Dr. Fellatio

by Author Stella

  “Yeah, sure. That would be great.” This was what I’d been waiting for since the day I started. The grin that lifted my lips made my cheeks hurt, and I fought tears of excitement. All I wanted to do was jump up and down in a circle, but I managed to maintain my composure to continue listening.

  “You’ll need to sign the wage increase form for HR. When you move into the role in an official capacity, you will get the full benefits and bonuses of a full-fledged rep. But while you’re training, it’s just the base salary. I’ll get you added to the ARs’ calendar so you know when to be where. But primarily, I want you to observe and take notes.”

  I looked at the paper he’d given me just moments ago. It was a respectable increase. More importantly, it was the first step I’d taken toward getting off this floor since I got here five years ago. I didn’t hesitate to sign on the dotted line.

  “Fantastic. I’ll get this turned in. Team F has a meeting this afternoon at one in conference room twelve on the third floor.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  I raced out of his office before he could change his mind. I couldn’t fathom what I’d said or done in the meeting with Chris that impressed him, but if arguing with my ex was all it took to get ahead, then I’d engage in verbal sparring anytime Chris came near me.

  Jasmine wasn’t at her desk when I stopped by, and Carl wasn’t in our cube, so I had no one to share my excitement with. Maybe that was for the best. They’d both been here as long as I had, and if there were five possible spots open on a new team and twenty-nine other juniors hoping to move up, they might not have gotten the same offer I had.

  Veering away from my desk, I went to grab the cup of coffee I’d been trying to drink since six thirty this morning. I’d only been in Martin’s office a handful of minutes; the brew I’d started should have had time to percolate in my absence. With a smile smeared across my face, I strolled into the breakroom with newfound confidence to find the second pot of the morning gone. I stopped and stared at the empty carafe from across the room. Everything around me blurred, leaving only a focused line of sight on the machine I’d visited three times today. My shoulders slumped, and my back rounded with disappointment. There were days I hated every person on this floor—and without caffeine, this was turning in to one of them.

  “Carrotcart.” Carl’s making fun of my last name did nothing other than cause me to roll my eyes and ignore him. “I heard you were making a Starbucks run.”

  I looked around, unsure of who he’d heard that rumor from since I’d been sitting across from him for the last hour and hadn’t said a word, and he hadn’t left once. “From who?”

  “Martin.”

  “When did you talk to Martin?”

  “I just figured since the two of you are in a relationship that you’d be making the trip to fetch your beau his favorite java before the meeting at one.”

  “That doesn’t even warrant a response.”

  “Yet you gave it one. Don’t be so defensive. If you guys are trying to keep the zip-and-slide on the DL, getting riled up just gives you away.”

  “The what?”

  “You know…zip”—he pinched the air in front of the zipper on his pants and animatedly acted out pulling it down—“and slide.” And then made the worst impression of rolling his hips forward in slow motion. It wasn’t so much the action of any of it—or even his ridiculous phrase—that left me staring at him like he’d just escaped from a clinical drug trial gone wrong. It was the way he only closed his lids halfway, fluttered his eyes, and opened his mouth with his tongue sticking out to one side. Seriously, if this was his O face, he might as well marry his hand now, because that’d be the only thing that would stick around afterward.

  I glanced at the clock, needing something other than Carl to look at, and noticed the time. I was due upstairs in less than ten minutes. Unsure of what I might need, I gathered a pen and paper. Then it occurred to me how asinine it would be to show up to a team meeting with a legal pad instead of an iPad. Without the device, I wouldn’t be able to see the same things they saw on the company portal, and I doubted anyone would want me hovering over their shoulder and breathing in their ear. But having both couldn’t hurt, even though there was a Notes app on the iPad that eliminated the need for anything to write on or with.

  “Where are you heading?” he questioned with a suggestive tone and ridiculous wink.

  If I hadn’t seen him do it a thousand times before, I would have assumed he’d sneezed without making a sound. “Is my schedule not listed on your fancy calendar you’ve been staring at all morning?” I indicated the sheet of paper he’d tacked up earlier.

  “Oh, no. That’s Patrick’s—”

  He stopped speaking when my cell rang inside the desk drawer.

  “Loverboy wants his coffee. Grab me a latte while you’re out.”

  I scowled at him and then my phone. Candi’s name on my caller ID in the middle of the workday couldn’t be good. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a choice not to answer it or she’d go to voicemail, and she was the last person I wanted to hear my company greeting—I’d be explaining more than my odd visit to her house; I’d be explaining my connection to Chris. Ignoring it wasn’t an option unless I fancied getting written up. My eyes lifted from her name to Carl, and I wanted to cry.

  “Hello?” Having this conversation in front of my cube mate wasn’t ideal, but it was safer in here than it was on the floor where any number of people might overhear me.

  “Hey, Alex. Did I catch you at a bad time? I thought you’d be at lunch, so hopefully, you can talk.”

  “Well, actually, I was just getting ready to leave my office.”

  “Oh, great. I caught you at the beginning of your break, so you have an entire hour. Phew. I was worried I’d be rushed. And I have so much to tell you.”

  Carl stared at me with piqued curiosity and an eyebrow quirked high enough it almost touched his hairline. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  “No.” Before I could get another word out, she’d launched into details of her sexual exploration.

  I had been foolish to assume she was smart enough not to call me during business hours to discuss this, but I had made it longer than I thought I would without hearing from her.

  “I did everything you told me to do. I’ve been working the three Cs. But the only one he seems to be taking to is communication. I’ve tried being cognizant and confident, and he just smiles and holds my hand or tries to tell me about his day or how I reminded him of his childhood—that’s a C that doesn’t need to be in the bedroom. Eww.”

  Clearly, Carl could hear every word Candi said. His lips rose in a mischievous grin that I wanted to wipe off his face. I turned away from his gaze and squatted next to my desk to feign retrieving something from the bottom drawer. But when I peeked up, he had leaned over his space into mine and had to be lying across the surface of the desk, staring down at me. The childlike curiosity that danced in his jade-green eyes would have made me giggle any other time.

  I covered the phone while Candi continued her monologue and hissed under my breath, “Do you mind?”

  “No, of course not.” And his head disappeared from view.

  Assuming he’d gone back to work, I sat down and shimmied under the desk, hoping to create as much privacy as possible in these tiny quarters.

  “All he wants to do is talk. What guy doesn’t want to get busy? No matter what I try, he doesn’t seem interested in moving past third base. Do you think maybe he’s having…you know…”

  Maybe I should have known, but I didn’t, and guessing games weren’t on the top of my priority list at this juncture.

  “What if it’s not working, and he’s too embarrassed to admit it? I’ve heard that happens to guys later in life.”

  I seriously doubted this guy suffered from erectile dysfunction even though I didn’t have a clue how old he was. I closed my eyes unsure how to address any of this at work, in my cubicle, with Carl three feet away. “Candi, I have a meeting to go
to in a few minutes.”

  “Are they going to mind if you’re late?”

  My head hit the back of the desk in frustration. “I’m going to need to call you after I get off.”

  “Oh,” she exclaimed, finally seeming to understand. “Look at you. Dr. Fellatio getting busy in the middle of the day.”

  I could correct her assumption. But I won’t.

  “You didn’t have to answer. You could have called me back after the big finale.”

  I had no idea how Candi had confused a meeting with sexual adventure, but I didn’t care if it got me off the phone. “Great. I’ll call you tonight,” I whispered into the speaker and prayed she let me go without anything further.

  Thankfully, she disconnected. And when I opened my eyes to crawl out from under my desk, I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sight of Carl tucked into the cramped space with me.

  “This is kind of like a fort. But next time we should use my side since yours opens out to the floor.” He had his arms around his knees that were pulled into his chest to fit into the confined space.

  “I had hoped for a little privacy.”

  “You had your chance.”

  I tried to crawl past him but stopped. “What?”

  “Four and a half years ago. But under the desk probably isn’t the best place to get busy—at least not on your side of the cube. I’d hate for Martin to get jealous. Maybe when you get back from Starbucks, you can come to see what my fort looks like.” He wagged his brow.

  It was official. Carl was an idiot.

  “Ugh. You’re insufferable.”

  I scooted out without laying a finger on my cubie, and then I managed to make it to the conference room and find a seat off to the side with a minute to spare.

  The rest of the afternoon flew by listening to the team talk through the latest pitch they were designing concepts for. The clothing wasn’t bad, but I couldn’t believe Abiti would ever bother running print ads for their new high-end line—magazines were so outdated. Individual garments were passed around the table for each AE to see and feel. They were made from some fancy material Abiti had patented, but it looked like a rayon blend and felt like it had been sprayed with Scotchgard. While the colors were rich, I hoped the fabric lost its stiffness after a wash in hot water. Abiti had surpassed most of the name brand, male clothing companies in the last two years. The Italian designer dominated the US market, and all of the hottest celebrities wore the label. Since I wasn’t here to offer my opinion, I kept it to myself and listened to the genius behind the designs.

  My head swam with information and new knowledge by the time I went back to my floor. I’d given up on taking notes and decided I’d retain more if I listened and recorded the conversation with an app on my iPad—that was probably against some company privacy policy, but I’d take my chances. I stopped at the entrance to the cube I shared—with what I had started to believe was a disturbed man—to watch Carl as he studied the piece of paper on the wall with great interest and wrote something in small letters to the outside of the day.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Taking notes for Patrick.” He didn’t look up. “Martin must be really good…or incredibly bad.”

  “Huh?”

  “Don’t worry, Chewbacca. Your secret’s safe with me. I won’t tell anyone you were gone for three hours, and I’m sure Martin won’t rat himself out. He probably has a great excuse worked up for missing his meeting.”

  I rolled my eyes and sat down. There was no telling how much work had come in while I’d been with the ad team. I hadn’t checked my emails while I was away, and thankfully, my phone never rang—likely because the people who called it during the day had been in the same room I was.

  When I opened the group email account, it was riddled with messages flagged as urgent that hadn’t been dealt with. “Did you do anything while I was gone?”

  He stood up like I’d slapped him across the face. “Yes! I just told you I took notes for Patrick.”

  I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, but these days, I felt like he spoke a language I didn’t understand. I wondered if he’d taken up drinking in the last couple of weeks or possibly come off his meds. “Why are you taking notes for the IT director?”

  “He asked me to keep an eye on things for him. I figured you could handle the team’s work for a few days. I don’t want to let him down.”

  There were so many things wrong with what he’d just said that I didn’t know where to start unpacking all of it. But the one that struck me hardest, nearly knocking the air from my lungs, was the part about Chris asking Carl to be his mole.

  I’d entered the twilight zone and couldn’t figure out an escape route. Jasmine had acted weird this morning. Carl didn’t want to disappoint a man I wasn’t aware he even knew. And I felt the way I had years ago when Chris had gone to Washington—cast aside and lost without the love of my life. I was overreacting. Chris had no obligation to me, and Carl wasn’t any stranger than he’d always been. I didn’t have a clue what was going on with Jasmine, but I needed to get control over the connection, or lack thereof, I felt to my ex.

  9

  Lexi

  Carl left promptly at five after riddling the calendar on the wall with messages—in French. I had no idea he spoke another language. Whatever he detailed for Chris, he didn’t want anyone else to read. I guess he’d never used Google translator.

  As it turned out, I needed to stay late to catch up so having my own car worked out. The department was eerily quiet without anyone here. I couldn’t hear the incessant clicking of fingers on keyboards and phones didn’t ring constantly. There was no chatter or even the ding of the elevator. If I were easily creeped out, this would be a horror movie waiting to happen.

  I tried to ignore the solitude and quiet my thoughts of Chris that had clung to the forefront of my mind since he left so I could get the work done for the team. I still hadn’t called Candi back, and Salivating Samantha sent me a text asking me to reach out to her when I could. I’d be lying if I said I weren’t looking for reasons not to contact Candi—she was a tad overwhelming—but Samantha likely just wanted to schedule her next appointment. Paranoia kept me from my obligation to both of them while I was still here, so they’d have to wait until I stepped out of the building.

  The ding of my messenger rang out through the open space like an air horn, and I nearly jumped out of my skin just after my heart skipped a beat. My fingers trembled when I moved the mouse to bring the program to the front of the screen.

  Patrick: Are you still at the office, or did you leave your computer on? The IT guy might get pretty upset if you didn’t log out—security risk and all.

  Once I was certain I hadn’t had a stroke, I stared at the message, unsure of how to respond. Nothing in the text was anything he’d said before, but the way it read reminded me of who he used to be—who we used to be. Or, maybe I wanted to see something that didn’t exist. We’d always had a playful banter that never failed to bring levity to my day. He’d turn his hat around backward, fold his arms across his chest, and lean back with a smirk on his face. Then he’d cross his ankles, and let the verbal boxing begin. It usually ended with me giggling in his lap—clothed or not. I still had that hat, and every time I saw it or put it on my head, those same feelings invaded my spirit and wrapped me in a blanket of wistfulness I’d never been able to let go of. Even thinking of it now brought a smile to my face and warmed my heart. I’d held on to the animosity for so long, the nostalgia running through me now caught me off guard.

  Alexia: I’m still here. But don’t worry, I’ll add the infraction to Carl’s notes for your review. I hope you read French.

  Alexia: Parlez-vous francais?

  Google was a god in the world of information. I loved it almost as much as I adored Amazon.

  Patrick: Oui, mademoiselle.

  He made me giggle. Those were probably the only two words he knew, and I found them strangely intoxicating. My heart flutte
red, and my face flushed the way it did with a shot of alcohol. I refused to acknowledge the heat that pooled between my legs.

  Patrick: For real though, what are you talking about?

  I could fill him in on his protégé’s antics. But I won’t. The lingering mystery was far more fun than obvious explanation.

  Alexia: How’s the trip?

  I made no attempt to casually change the subject. Text messages were great that way; they didn’t have to follow a logical flow like conversation, and without facial expressions, he couldn’t tell if I were merely distracted or avoiding something. I had become a pass master at aversion; it was like a mote around my heart.

  Patrick: It’s California.

  A sense of longing flooded my soul. Those two words woke something inside me that had been dormant for years—or maybe just cloaked by a blanket of hurt. I wanted to hold onto the anger I’d carried for so long as a layer of protection, yet each word that came up on the screen only served to chip away at an already crumbling wall, revealing a love that had never faded in his absence. If I could turn back time, I would have followed him then, and if I could have gotten away with it, I’d be there with him now.

  I found myself wanting to share my day with him the way I used to. He knew when I got the job offer from Miriam Pratt that my dream had been to secure a coveted ad rep spot. Just like his had been getting into DigiTech. But he’d left, and mine hadn’t happened.

  Yet somehow, he stepped back into the picture—in whatever capacity he’d returned—and the pieces of that dream were falling into place. The two weren’t related, and I shouldn’t allow myself to think Mars was in retrograde, yet I couldn’t stop myself from sharing my excitement or wondering if the two of us could pull off the greatest second-chance romance ever told.