Romancing the News: A Lesbian Office Romance

by Violette Grey

  She looked down at me, a mischievous grin on her face. “Be right back,” she whispered. Her lips worked their way down my neck, chest, breast, stomach, and then she was up and walking to a tall dresser, her naked behind firm and suppled as she moved.

  "Are you ready for some fun, baby?" she said as she ambled back to the bed, a toy in each hand, her eyes gleaming.

  Brook liked her sex rough. I did not mind it but would have preferred some lovemaking from time to time. Yet, I said nothing, waiting in anticipation to see what she had in mind for me this time.

  Her hand found my breast again and then her lips were on a nipple, sucking, biting, the familiar swelling of my insides making it hard to breathe. The other hand moved inch by inch down my side, to my stomach, and then lower, until she was rubbing me with slow, deliberate circles. My hips moved as they ground against her fingers, and her lips muffled my moans as I neared that precipice. I felt myself on the edge, ready to fall, or be pushed.

  I thought someone had poured cold water on me, the halted sensation was so sudden. My lungs refused to draw in air in the absence of her stroking fingers.

  "Sorry, babe, not yet," she said, her face almost a sneer.

  She pulled out a rubber dildo and rubbed lubricant on it. Then she leaned down and rubbed the tip of it against me, and I writhed at the feeling, wanting to take it in, wanting to be on that cliff once more.

  With one plunge, the toy was inside me, Brook moving it in and out with steady jabs. Her breathing matched mine as I climbed that mountain once again. Her lips kissed my breast and she moved with the toy, bucking her hips forward with each stroke as if the toy was an appendage of her own body.

  Slowly, breathlessly, I returned to that summit and felt myself falling as my body exploded and pulsated. I grabbed her hand to stop the movements, the sensation too much, and she laughed huskily.

  "Now, baby, you do me," Brook said as she leaned over and kissed me, our tongues intertwining.

  I took the dildo and pressed it against Brook, but held it still, and she grabbed my hand.

  "What the hell, Paul?" Brook gasped. She never liked any sort of teasing or foreplay. It was just wham, bam, thank you, ma'am, or as Brook put it: hike, spike, thank you, dyke. She had always been crude.

  ***

  Ten minutes later we were back in the living room watching some detective show on TV that Brook was addicted to and that I hated. Brook did not believe in cuddling after sex. She said that old couples did that, and if she started now, it would set her on that downhill path of decrepitness. It never made sense to me, but I did not say a word about it.

  I would have preferred to watch a comedy or even a romance, but I wanted Brook to be happy, so I never complained about what was on.

  "So, when you go tomorrow, what are you going to tell Jason?" Brook asked. We also never talked about our time together sharing what should have been a very intimate moment. It might not have even happened.

  I shrugged. "The usual. Probably a doctor’s appointment; maybe the Gyno.” I laughed. “It makes him turn green whenever I mention it."

  Brook shook her head. "Well, he's an asshole anyway, so don't worry about it."

  I knew I wouldn't. I just hoped I would get that job. Then I would not have to worry about Jason, or the Free News, anymore.

  Chapter Five

  The next morning, I gave my excuse to Jason, who, as expected, did not want to know the details. So at nine-thirty, I headed to the bus stop and made my way across town to a small office building off of Almeda Avenue.

  A much newer and better-maintained property than where the Free News was located, the building had five stories with several shops running along the first level, their entrances facing the street. Large plate-glass windows looked into a deli, coffee shop, nail salon, and a gym. Everything I needed all in one place. It had to be a sign.

  Well, maybe not the gym, but for sure the coffee shop.

  It hardly felt as if the elevator moved as I made my way to the third floor. The doors opened to a long hallway, and I followed it, checking each suite number until I found the one I needed at the far end. Waiting outside the door, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, willing my nerves to unravel. Then I opened the door.

  The office was much different from the Free News office. Rather than an enormous open space with desks strewn about, there was a small waiting area with six chairs and a small receptionist’s desk. To either side of the desk was a wide hallway that led to what were probably offices.

  The other difference that stood out to me was that the employees were very well-dressed. Business attire, with suits and ties for then men and either business suits or dressed with heals for the women. No one was wearing anything casual. I looked down at my clothes and felt my face flush. This was the most business-y outfit I owned. A gray button-up blouse and black slacks. Plain, simple, I sure hoped it would do.

  “Hi, I’m here for an interview with Ms. Hendrix,” I said to the woman behind the desk. Her nameplate said Sarah Barnabas.

  “I’ll let her know you’re here,” Sarah said before picking up and dialing the phone.

  “Ms. Hendrix, your eleven o’clock is here…Very well.” Sarah turned to me and smiled. “You may go back. It will be down the right hallway and then straight across the pod.”

  I headed the direction she indicated, down a short hallway that opened into a large round room. Several offices branched off the middle section, much like spokes on a wheel, with a desk outside each office for an assistant.

  This company had to be doing fairly well if each writer had an assistant. Although the Free News was a complimentary publication, the amount of money brought in from sales of ads had to be more than enough to hire more help and make the place a little more presentable. However, I figured the owner, Bart Straker, was probably living a very comfortable lifestyle by keeping his overhead down.

  It was easy to find Ms. Hendrix’s office; it was the largest office in the pod, with giant windows that looked out onto an unobstructed view the mountains.

  “Ms. Stevens.” Ms. Hendrix was a formidable woman with short brown hair, brown eyes, and a well-built body. It was clear she worked out, probably on a daily basis. She stood only five-foot-three, but the way she carried herself made her seem somehow taller than my five-foot-six.

  I shook her offered hand and then followed her into the office. Glass shelves hung on one wall lined with books and several model boats. I glanced at the titles of the books and was not surprised that many were on politics and journalism; however, a good selection of them had to do with boats. There were books on yachting, boat maintenance, marine laws, and a coffee table book with a painting of a marina scene leaned against a book stand. A large painting of an ocean landscape with several sailboats adorned the opposite wall, and two green plants sat on the window sill flanking an award for journalist of the year from Wisconsin.

  “Yes, I love anything about boats,” she said when I mentioned her book collection. “I grew up in Santa Monica. Spent most of my formative years on my father’s boat.” She pointed to the book on the stand. “That painting is of my father’s boat the artist did for the book. Isn’t it beautiful?”

  I nodded. “It is.” I was not really sure what else to say. “I’ve never been on a boat before,” I said as I took the seat she offered in front of the large cherry wood desk.

  “Well, maybe one day I will take you out on one. I have a couple stored up by Carter Lake in Loveland. I try to go out as often as I can, which is not as often as I want.”

  “Yeah…” I said, not sure how else to respond.

  She grabbed a file from a stack and placed it in front of her. “Well, Ms. Stevens, let’s get started.”

  “Thank you for this opportunity, Ms. Hendrix,” I said.

  “Please, call me Joanna. Ms. Hendrix is just so formal. Reminds me of my mother at her garden parties.” She laughed. I laughed too, although I had no idea what was so funny about it. I had no idea what it was like to
be at a garden party.

  “Well, then call me Paulette,” I said with a smile. Joanna was welcoming and pleasant. I could see me working with, and learning from, this woman in a place that was comfortable, and strangely, supportive. At least it was strange to me.

  “Very well, Paulette.” She opened the file and took out several sheets of paper, one I recognized as my resume. “I see that you are working on your journalism degree.”

  “Yes. I’ve been taking night classes so I can work during the day. I only have three more to go; one I’ll finish in December.”

  Joanna nodded as she made notes. “Tell me about your current job.”

  How did I explain to this woman that my current job was made up of a bunch of sexist self-absorbed men who had little or no skills in writing?

  “I am an assistant to a man named Jason Thopolopogos. Most of the writers share jobs, so there’s not just one person, or even a team, who works on just a single section. I help with copy editing and reviewing not only Jason’s work, but other writers’ as well.”

  “Do you do any writing yourself?”

  I shook my head. “Not yet, most of my time is spent giving feedback on other people’s writing. I look for holes in articles, see where they could improve, and help with bias.”

  “And is that your job, was that what you were hired for?”

  I laughed. “Oh, no. I was hired to be Jason’s assistant. I was told I would look at his work, proofread, take care of scheduling meetings, do the normal things a secretary would do. It grew to what it is today. So, I guess you could say that I go above and beyond what is expected of me.”

  “That is definitely something we need here,” Joanna said. “I have to be honest, the applicants we have had so far have been, shall we say, less than desirable. From what I’ve seen, I think you are certainly in the running for the position.”

  This broadened my smile. I could not wait to tell Brook.

  Joanna looked down at the page she was making notes on. “So, where do you see yourself in five years?” she asked.

  This was an easy question for me to answer. “I will have finished my degree and gotten a job as a journalist at one of the most reputable newspapers or magazines in the country,” I said. “Perhaps even make my way up the ranks in this one. Maybe even become managing editor sometime.”

  Joanna laughed, but it was not that same mocking I got from Brook or Jason. It had an encouraging ring to it, as if this woman believed that I could do just as I said. “I like when someone has a clear vision. It brings forth drive, and with drive comes a strong work ethic.”

  I beamed. No one had seen my hopes and dreams as a ‘clear vision’ before. Well, Daisy, but no one else. And it felt good.

  “What have you done to work your way up where you are now?”

  I took a deep breath. This would be difficult to answer without making the Free News look bad, which I knew would make me look vindictive. No one wanted someone vengeful.

  “I have placed my name on the list for an apprenticeship program every quarter for the past year. It really is the only way to move up from an assistant position there. It’s very competitive and I haven’t been chosen yet, but I keep trying.”

  “Well, you’ll be happy to know we have our own apprenticeship program here.”

  I nodded. “Yes, I saw that. That’s exciting.”

  “Why do you think you were not chosen for your company’s program?”

  My fingers hurt from clutching them in my lap. I eased the pressure on them and tried to relax. “The people who were chosen had completed their degrees, so they were bumped up on the list.”

  Joanna laughed. “Are they still telling people that the degree has to come first?” she asked, shaking her head. “God, they were saying that back when I started in this business.”

  I smiled but said nothing. She had to be in her late thirties or early forties, so I could not imagine how long ago she was talking about.

  “All men?” she asked, looking at me expectantly.

  I nodded.

  “Figures,” she said, shaking her head. “Well, you are definitely one of my top candidates, I can tell you that.” She closed her folder and clasped her hands on the desk. “Is there anything you would like to ask me?”

  I had only one question. “Can I look at you as, say, a mentor? I would still like to apply to the apprenticeship program, but having someone I can work under, run ideas by—while maintaining my position responsibilities, of course—would be the best experience I could have. I’m hoping to take both of my last two courses next semester so I’m able to finish my degree sooner, but it depends on if they are both available or not.”

  Joanna seemed to consider this question and then smiled. “But of course you could consider me a mentor. Who better to learn from than someone who is where you would like to be one day.”

  The idea of working for this woman made me extremely happy.

  “Well, I will get back to you as soon as I have made my decision. And don’t worry, I’ll call you back to let you know regardless.” She stood and I followed suit.

  “Thank you,” I said with relief.

  I shook her hand and then made my way out of the office. As soon as the front door of the office building closed, I dialed Daisy’s cell. It went to voicemail.

  “Daisy, I just left the interview. They will call me soon to let me know if I got the job or not. But it went really well! I’m so excited! I’ll tell you all about it later!”

  I sat at the bus stop waiting for the 3 Bus to take me back to Thornton in north Denver. I could not wait to tell Daisy how things went. Oh, and Brook; although telling her was less exciting.

  I never knew how she would react.

  Chapter Six

  Sleep eluded me that night as I lay awake worrying. This new job had so much to offer. There were women in leadership positions, which indicated more chances for advancement there than at the Free News. When I looked up the employees listed on their website, four of the journalists were women. Plus, there was Joanna, who sat in the second-to-highest position at the magazine.

  Brook had come home grumpy from work and went straight to bed. Rather than deal with her mood, I stayed up, poured a rare glass of wine, and watched a comedy, something I didn’t get to do very often. I had to cover my mouth so my laughter did not travel into the bedroom and disturb Brook, who would only become crankier if I woke her up.

  My eyes grew heavy, but I was determined to take advantage of my rare TV privileges, so I sat to watch as many of my favorites that I could. I only made it through half of the second one before sleep won out.

  “Paul?” Brook’s voice sounded far away. She was across a chasm as wide as the Royal Gorge, a place I had always wanted to see but could not talk Brook into visiting. I was standing in the middle of the highest suspension bridge in the world, the wind making the bridge sway, but I was not afraid. She had refused to come with me, having waited at the entrance to the bridge, but once I made my way alone, she was calling me back.

  Someone shook my shoulder. “Paul, get up!”

  I opened my eyes and squinted. The sun glared through the living room window onto my face.

  “What are you doing out here?” Brook asked once I sat up.

  Rubbing my eyes, I replied, “I fell asleep watching a movie. I didn’t realize how late it was.”

  Brook sniffed derisively. “Well, you’d better get up. You’re going to miss your bus. And I can’t drive you. I have a staff meeting at the restaurant at nine.”

  I grabbed my cell phone. “Shit!” I had fifteen minutes to get ready and be out the door. “Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?”

  “Hey, you’re usually my alarm clock,” she said, pouring herself a cup of coffee. She had time to make coffee, but did not bother to wake me? Sometimes I just wanted to scream at her.

  I rushed to the bathroom and finished my morning ablutions as quickly as I could. There was no time for a shower, and luckily I did not wear makeup�
��Brook preferred I didn’t; she said I looked better without it.

  Ten minutes later, I gave Brook a quick kiss and headed out the door.

  “Hey,” she called after me. “Aren’t you going to tell me to have a good day?”

  “Oh, yeah, sorry,” I said quickly. “Have a good day.”

  It would be nice if you said it to me once in a while, I thought. Yep, it was going to be one of those days, I could tell already.

  Daisy got on the bus at her usual stop, smiling broadly. “Good morning, girlfriend,” she said happily. “How’s your morning been?”

  I glared at her and then immediately regretted it. It was not her fault I was having a bad morning. “Sorry, sweetie, I just got up late. Other than that I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked. She looked at me like I was a sick child who wanted to convince her mother she was well enough to go outside and play.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” I explained how my morning had gone and she shook her head.

  “Brook can be a real bitch sometimes.” When I gave her a warning look, she added, “No, it’s true. I don’t care how mad you get at me for saying it, but she treats you like shit. You’re my best friend and I don’t like it. If Dean treated me the same way, wouldn’t you say something to me?”

  I thought about this and realized what she said was true. I would kick Dean in a place that would make him sing soprano if he behaved toward Daisy the way Brook did me. But somehow I felt I had to defend Brook. She was not that bad.

  “You know how she gets sometimes,” I said. “She loves me, but it’s hard for her to show it. It’s her childhood and all the baggage from her last relationship…”

  Daisy flicked her hand at me. “Yeah, whatever.” She pushed back into the seat and looked toward the front of the bus. “I’m not going to argue with you about it.” Then she turned back to me, her face anxious. “But you would tell me if she were….hurting you, right?”

  I gasped. “Oh, my God, Daisy. Brook get grumpy but she’s not abusive. Sweetie, of course, I would tell you.”