The shrieking of the alarm shattered the most delicious dream, on a Saturday no less. But today was mandatory overtime for the skeleton crew of IT staff tasked with babysitting the final migration of our data to the new parent company. Not that it was really necessary, the transition was already largely complete, migrating the cloud instance was carefully scripted to a few keystrokes, and as a last resort a backup of all the company's data was already on an encrypted drive overnighted to the new company's datacenter in Europe. Still I stumbled to the shower, pulled on my favorite t-shirt and a pair of comfortable jogging pants that would almost pass as work attire on a weekday but would be fine for today's barely necessary mission of watching monitors for alerts that would never come. I reflected on the week's events as I made the early morning commute into the city for what was likely one of the last times. At least there was no traffic as the sunrise illuminated the empty office buildings.

The merger announcement had been made earlier in the week and they weren't wasting any time. The founders wanted their investments back fast. Friday's work meetings had been cancelled and a huge catered party for the remaining staff had been hastily arranged.

The merger announcement was welcome by the executives, but the party's main purpose was obvious to everyone. The company was struggling for a long time. The VC firm backing us had thrown us a party in a cynical attempt to boost morale following months of layoffs and budget constraints. Never mind that most of us were now facing a couple month's severance and a hollow invitation to apply for our own jobs with the new company. Better off taking the money and a well earned break to look or a new job.

The party catering was amazing, although in her haste, or possibly out of spite for the new owners, the receptionist had just duplicated the catering order from the holiday party when our company was three times our current size. This combined with the fact that many of the staff had ducked out to enjoy the work-free Friday afternoon rather than mingle with co-workers and endure the new owners' barely contained contempt for 90 minutes meant there was more food than anyone knew what to do with.

As I badged in to our office, stacks of catering trays and pans still littered the tables and cluttered the breakroom. I opened one of the fridges to drop off my lunch, but they were stuffed with even more trays and shelf after shelf of untouched desserts. Whoever had decided that dozens of banana cream pies were the best dessert for a work function needed to have their head examined. I gave up and dragged my lunch box with me back to the IT department.

Already seated at her workstation was my stunning colleague Stacy, a recently divorced 32 year old self-described gamer girl with pink shoulder length hair, a vintage Pokemon t-shirt two sizes too small, and a talent for seeing the humor in everything. Stacy could turn anything into a competition. Her shoes were kicked off, her socked feet were up on her desk and she was absentmindedly nibbling on a leftover chicken parm from the night before, her delicate fingers dripping with marinara sauce as she swirled it around in the catering tin. "I like your breakfast." I teased her as I dropped my work bag at my desk. She stuck her pierced tongue out at me playfully.

"You ready for the world's mot worthless overtime?" she said with an eyeroll.

"It might be fun, I've got some videos I've been wanting to watch and can get a head start on my resume." I responded optimistically. She rolled her eyes again. "At least we won't starve." I chuckled. She raised her remaining slab of breaded chicken as a toast.

The morning passed slowly, we responded to the new company's notification that the migration was underway, and joked lightly as we watched for any alerts that we knew would never come.

Around 11:00AM, Stacy wandered over to the breakroom to more thoroughly inspect the leftovers. She practically sprinted back, out of breath. "I know what we're going to do this afternoon!" she exclaimed, not leaving any room for doubt or any assumption I wasn't going to be involved. "We're going to have a pie eating contest!" she smiled broadly, eyes lighting up. My heart leapt into my throat. I'd always had a thing for Stacy but work policy against workplace romances had prevented me from ever pursuing it. The thought of doing something so ridiculous with her sparked a renewed sense of excitement. "Okay...how would that work?" I asked, puzzled.

"Simple, we each get a pie. First one with a clean pie tin wins. But you can't use your hands, obviously." she added.

"Obviously." I snarked back. "Won't we get pie everywhere?" I cautioned.

Stacy thought for a moment, then stepped over to a closet near reception. A few coat hangers and a dry cleaning bag were inside. She slid the clear plastic bag on over her head. "Easy, see?" she smiled.

"Uh, what about my shirt?" I grumbled.

"You could just take it off," she said quietly, her tone changing. I blushed.

"Alright, that works." I said sweetly, slipping off my favorite t-shirt and dropping it by my work bag. I caught her bite her lip before she looked away. She hurriedly walked to the break room while I cleared off a nearby table and slid our office chairs on either side. She returned, sliding two of the massive banana cream pies onto the table in front of our chairs.

My heart was pounding in my chest as we both sat, her clear plastic tunic crinkling comically as the AC chilled my bare chest. "Ready? On three." she said excitedly. She called loudly, "one...two...THREE!!!" I plunged my face into the thick pie, confident in a win and desperate to impress my beautiful competitor. I slid my tongue around trying to break up the graham cracker crust through the thick whipped cream and cold, sticky banana filling. I glanced up. Something wasn't right. Sure enough, she was sitting upright, face completely clean sporting the most impish smirk I'd ever seen, holding her phone in one hand recording my embarrassment while looking smug. I froze, suspecting I'd been had. "No fair!" I grumbled, placing my hands on my hips She leaned back, almost catlike. Stacy lifted her socked foot onto the table and slowly slid her pie over to my side, tipping it into my lap. Before I could react, she'd rushed to the other side of the table and planted her socked foot onto the pie tin, mushing the pie firmly into my lap and rocking it back and forth. My manhood betrayed me, leaping to attention at the weight of the pie plus Stacy's foot. She grinned knowingly before gripping the edge of the pie tin with her toes and lifting it away delicately, to reveal a now spotless pie tin and my banana cream pie destroyed lap.

"Looks like I win." she grinned. I could only stand there, my pie-coated face agape in shock. For my prize, you're going to buy me dinner after work tonight." She purred.

"It's a date, on one condition." I smiled, glancing toward the break room loaded with additional pies. "I get a rematch. Best two out of three." Stacy raised her eyebrow, thought for a second, then retreived a box holding four more pies. She placed them methodically on the table between us and sat down again. "Fine. she said. "One...two..."Before she could say THREE I picked up a pie and gently twisted it into Stacy's gorgeous face. She let it hang there momentarily, whipped cream and pie filling dripping down onto her chest before the tin made its slow inevitable plunge to her lap. "I lose!" I smiled cheekily. She stuck her adorable tongue out at me through her pie coated lips. "Now you're in for it Mister! Looks like you're buying me dessert tonight too!" she giggled sweetly.