Eight until Four

2.

"Yes, I'm ok", Kevin snapped.

Jo had enough of Kevin's weird demeanour.

"Look, I don't think I want to stay. You can keep your money," Jo said, concerned by his weird behaviour.

"That's a disciplinary offence, Joanne. Your contract will be terminated," snarled Kevin.

"Unless," Kevin paused.

"Unless what?" asked Jo

"You let me touch your muscles and arm wrestle first, then wrestle on the floor, best of three", Kevin blurted out his desire, his request.

Joanne was shocked. And she felt threatened. Not to mention creeped out.

"So, is it a deal?" asked Kevin

"No. Go away, you perv, or I'll"

"Or you'll what?" countered Kevin

"I know everything about you, where you live, what car you drive, how much you lift, your diet problems, your boyfriends... everything", said Kevin.

"Keep away from me!" shouted Jo

"Ahh, come on, you know you can squat me. You could crush my skull with your biceps!"

Jo was worried. She might be twice, if not three times, stronger than Kevin. But Jo wasn't a fighter. She was powerful and physically strong, but the very thought of touching him creeped her out. Jo frantically looked around. She ran over to an office and shut the door. Kevin soon followed.

Jo's phone was outside the room.

She heard Kevin at the door, fumbling with a key. It was his office, and he had just locked her in.

"Don't go anywhere. I'll be back soon!" he said as he walked away.

Jo tried the door, but it was locked. She looked around the small office, noticing a filing cabinet. There was a jumper trapped between the side and the drawer. It gained Jo's interest as it looked like a sweatshirt that belonged to her.

Jo went over closer to the standard three-drawer metal grey filing cabinet. Her hand grabbed the handle of the top drawer. The filling cabinet started to rattle as Jo pulled harder. Her forearm muscles flexed and tensed as she applied more force, and then her bicep grew, expanding in size.

Jo pulled harder; the draw started to bow outwards, giving into her firm, muscular arm. The metal drawer stretched out of shape as her bicep and forearm became rigid muscle, her strength easily deforming its structure and integrity. Her other hand steadied the five-draw filing cabinet in the corner. The small handle snapped off, unable to resist her strength any longer. Jo dropped the handle and then put her hand in between the gap at the top between the deformed draw and the top of the cabinet.

Her hand continued pulling down the metal in front of the draw, crushing it firmly. It groaned and creaked. She peeled the top of the metal draw front down. Her right foot added stability against the bottom drawer, pushing into the bottom drawer, her white trainer denting the base as it pushed inwards. The top drawer is now wholly bent out of shape. A loud snapping noise is heard between the twisting and protesting from the metal as the bent lock breaks off. Jo doesn't stop. Jo's knee pushed into the middle drawer, forcing it against the metal. It crumpled quickly, and her knee dented the drawer inwards.

The sorry-looking filing cabinet stood silent, twisted and bent out of shape. Jo looked inside. It was her sweatshirt, which she lost a few weeks back. There were photos of her in the warehouse lifting boxes, a small box of mini DVCs, which she didn't know what they were, and some staff rotas, which Jo was on. With the rotas was another piece of paper with around twenty user names. Some of the names were crossed out. Jo took a look and studied the paper. For some reason, she noticed some user names seemed familiar. They were user names on social media, accounts that sent her rude images and said awful things to her. It was Kevin all the time. He was the one who had been sending her dirty messages. Jo didn't mind fans who followed her online social media presence. She didn't even mind some of the whacky questions she was asked. But when she wasn't treated with respect or courtesy, that's when it mattered to her, and spreading hate or sending rude images was way across the line.

Jo was fuming. Kevin was such a creep. The fact that she was now locked in his office did scare her. What was he planning? It's time to use these muscles, she said to herself. She planned to get her phone and take pictures of the evidence. She wanted to avoid confrontation and involve the authorities.

Jo walked back to the wooden office door. She grabbed the handle, which confirmed the door was still locked. She gave It a little rattle. The door shook in the frame. Jo pulled on the handle, her powerful grip bending the handle slightly. The wood around the door plate creaked as her strength started to pull the base plate away from the doo. Her firm grip bent the door lever as her strength increased, and her arm muscles were fully pumped. The door lever suddenly broke off the door, and the door was unable to stand this amount of force. Jo dropped the handle. She took a step back and then kicked the door. Immediately, there was a wood splintering sound, and hairline cracks started to appear in the plaster around the door frame. Jo's powerful quads drove her foot again against the door. The architrave was splintering and breaking off away from the jambs of the door frame. One last powerful kick did it. The wood cracked, and the stops came away from the sides, the door hinges ripping out of the wood as the door flew open. It hung by one skew, and the lock mechanism fell onto the ground. Jo looked out but couldn't see or hear Kevin, so she retrieved her phone and recorded the evidence what Jo had seen made her feel ill. He was a voyeur, taking his obsession too far. He needed to be taught a lesson.