by Shay Warner
“Not as friendly as he was to the waitress and her perky, perky tits,” she said. “Frank noticed, too, and my Frank has the subtlety of a two-by-four.”
I rolled my eyes.
“So what if he looked at her chest?” I asked. “Apparently you did too.”
“It was hard not to,” she admitted. “Hey, as long as he makes you happy. It’s not like he’s going out to strip clubs every weekend, or anything.”
“Okay,” I said. “Hope you had a good weekend, but I’ve gotta get back to work in a minute.”
We chatted about her and Frank and their neighbors for another few minutes, and then she headed to her own office.
Looking out the frosted glass window of my office door, I was pretty sure I saw Terry Shaw walk past a few minutes later. Part of me wanted to leap out of my chair, hurry around the desk, and confront him, but I knew it would be a bad idea. That would guaruntee no promotion for me, possibly ever.
It wasn’t like it was a promotion up to supervisor, or anything. Just another fifty cents an hour and a better parking spot.
I had to let it go.
The next day, I slept in and didn't get to the office until seven-thirty. Karen showed up at five minutes to nine, just like always, and ducked her head into my office.
"You, me, lunch, today," she said, pointing at me sternly.
"You've got it, boss," I said. "I've got to run out to double-check page seven of this form, but I should be back by noon."
"See that you are, underling," she said. Karen was, technically, my supervisor, after all.
I was, in fact, back by noon. Karen immediately dragged me back out to the parking lot.
"Come on," she said. "Come on, come one. Food."
We walked to the little cafe only a block away that served cheap sandwiches and cold drinks. Karen was anxious and bounced the whole way.
"Calm down, " I said. "You have big news?"
"Oh, God," she said. "The biggest. There has not been news as big as mine in ages."
We went through the line quickly and met at our usual table.
"A salad?" I asked. "What happened to your ham sandwich."
She looked longingly at my roast beef.
"I can't have lunch meat right now," she said, poking at the greens on her plate.
"That bites," I said.
"No, it's awesome." she said, grinning at me. "I can't have them because I'm finally knocked up."
"Are you serious?" I squealed. "That is fantastic!"
We squealed and tapped our feet and giggled when the man at the next table glared at us over his newspaper.
"When did you find out?" I asked. "How far along are you? Do you want a baby shower at work? What does Frank think?"
"So many questions! First of all, I found out last night, I've been feeling kind of crappy and so I peed on a stick. It was positive, and I freaked out and peed on two more, and they were super clear. I am really, really pregnant," she said. “I was so excited that I ran out to tell Frank and forgot my jeans were around my ankles. I fell over. It caught his attention, at least. He about fell over too when I showed him the sticks.”
"I am so happy for you," I told her. "You've been trying for, what, a year now?"
"Almost," she said. She looked so happy and relieved, I couldn't wait to hug her when we finished our lunches. "I'm probably five or six weeks along, that's it, so if you spill the beans at work I'll never tell you anything again. Frank wants to keep it private until I'm, like, six months along."
We finished our lunch going over every detail of how she was feeling, and trying to decide whether she’d rather have a boy or a girl.
“-and she’s about six weeks along,” I said, cradling my cell phone between my shoulder and my ear.
“Cool,” Mike said. “Are you going to get her a present or something?”
I laughed.
“I’ll probably arrange the baby shower at work, and I’ll definitely get her something nice. Maybe a fancy rocking chair or a gift certificate to her favorite Chinese place. They deliver, and I know she won’t want to cook for a while,” I said.
“Right,” he said. “That sounds good. Do you want Chinese?”
“When?” I asked.
“Tonight,” he said. “I can swing by and pick you up.”
“I’d love to,” I said, and he interrupted me before I could finish the sentence.
“But,” he said. “But, you’re busy? But, you don’t really want to? There’s always a ‘but,’ isn’t there?”
“No,” I said. “I’m just tired. I’d love to go out, but I’m tired. Would you like to pick some up and come eat on the couch with me, have a lazy dinner?”
The silence that came through the phone spoke volumes.
“It’s fine,” I said, quickly. “Why don’t we go out another time? Or I’ll come out if you want me to, I just need to drink some coffee.”
“No, don’t worry about it,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your lazy evening.”
He laughed cheerfully, but I wasn’t entirely convinced.
“I’ll see you on Friday,” he said. “Pick you up at seven?”
I agreed, and hung up.
I headed from the bedroom to the kitchen, opening the fridge and trying to figure out what I could have for dinner.
I had a chicken breast and some broccoli, and started some pasta to boil while the meat cooked. That should give me lunch for the rest of the week, too.
As I cooked dinner, I hummed aloud and thought about the meal I’d eat with Mike on Friday night. It would probably be Chinese, since I mentioned it, but he might surprise me with something else. I never knew quite what I was getting, and I enjoyed the novelty, most nights.
I just wished sometimes to date someone who wanted to just curl up on the couch with me every once in a while and watch a movie, or read a book. Someone who wanted to spend time with me and relax, not having to go out all the time. I couldn’t help but feel like he didn’t really want to be a part of my life. He had barely seen my apartment, and I was only at his when we were sleeping - or having sex, I thought.
The sex was wonderful, and the restaurants he took me to were generally spectacular.
I didn’t really have anything to complain about.
I felt guilty at wanting more. Mike brought me flowers and remembered my birthday - with a very expensive necklace - and was pretty much a model boyfriend.
Friday afternoon, I had one of the worst visits to a ranch I could imagine. Not only did the owner blow me off and call me “little lady,” not only did I trip over my own feet and land in a cow pie, but I made a mistake on the paperwork that he caught.
Karen told me repeatedly that every single person makes mistakes, and I was still good at my job. She let me off work an hour early to scrub off the cow poop and get prettied up for my date.
Even though I (mostly) believed her that everyone made mistakes, it still stung that it had to happen in front of that man.
By the time Mike picked me up outside my apartment building, though, I felt better about life. No longer smelling like manure will do that to a girl.
I had changed from my work jeans and blouse into a fun little sundress with high heels. I even blew out my hair for the first time in months, and spent extra time with my makeup. I was looking good and feeling good.
“Wow,” he said as I got into the car. “You look amazing. What did you do with your hair?”
“I just took a little extra time on it after work,” I said, off-handedly. “Karen let me off an hour early to primp.”
“It hasn’t looked that good since we started dating,” he said. “You look completely hot. I can’t take you out to Chinese looking like that, I’ve gotta take you out somewhere more fun.”
I laughed and elbowed him gently over the gearshift.
“Flatterer,” I said.
“It’s my best thing,” he said.
We both laughed, and he drove away from my apartment building.
/> It didn’t take long to arrive at a little Thai restaurant, much fancier than the Chinese place I’d introduced him to.
We ate our curries off of china plates sitting on white linen tablecloths and grinned at each other in the candlelight.
“I’m so glad to take you out,” he said. He leaned forward to whisper to me. “Every man in this place wishes he was taking you out tonight.”
I giggled a little. It was flattering, but it made me a little uncomfortable when he went on like that.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’m… I’m really pleased to be out with you, of course. Always.”
He reached across the table and squeezed my hand gently.
“Good,” he said, decisively.
I was halfway through my chicken curry when I told him about the conversation I’d had with Karen earlier in the week, the one about promotions.
“So, she said I probably wouldn’t get promoted as quickly because I’m female,” I said. “It took her eight years to get to her position and it apparently took the men that started where she did hardly five years. Can you believe it?”
He nodded and shrugged.
“Sure, I can. It’s not much different at the bank,” he said. “Women pretty much seem to stay in the bottom positions.”
“It’s ridiculous,” I said, just like I had during my conversation with Karen. “I wish I could do something about it.”
“You don’t have any proof,” he said. “You can’t sue without proof.”
He pulled out his phone as it buzzed in his pocket, and replied to a text message without looking at me.
“I don’t want to sue anyone,” I snapped. “I just want to get the promotions I work for before I die of old age.”
He shrugged. “That sucks,” he said. “You’ve said all this before, though, you know? When that guy got a raise last month and you didn’t. Maybe you’re just not working as hard as they are.”
I gasped in outrage.
“You’ve heard me talk about how much I work since we met,” I said.
“You left work an hour early to primp for a date,” he said. “I didn’t. Maybe the men who are getting promoted ahead of you don’t, either.”
“I get to work at least two hours early every morning,” I said. “I stay an hour or two late almost every day. I haven’t taken a single sick day since I started. I got off one hour early, one time, because I fell in cow shit, and you say I don’t deserve a promotion as much as a man does?”
“Does that man get there three hours early?” he asked. His brown eyes were expressionless.
“I’m the first one to the office every morning,” I said. “I put in more hours than anyone else there. Everyone knows it. Everyone has commented on it.”
“Maybe you’re just not efficient enough,” he challenged. “Why do you have to spend that much time there to do your job?”
“I do my job and I do the work of another entire employee,” I ground out. “I’m efficient and I put in a lot of hours.
I couldn’t believe that he was doing this, talking so casually as he revealed that he didn’t have faith in my job.
“I work myself to the bone for that office and I deserve a promotion, and a raise, and I deserve it sooner than any of the men in that place!” I snapped.
He grinned at me, and I glared in confusion.
“That’s right,” he said. “That’s how you need to be when you go get your raise. March in them and tell them they’d need to hire two people to take your place, and you deserve extra money.”
“What the hell?” I asked, still upset. “Don’t do that to me!”
He held up his hands, ingratiatingly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said. “You want a boyfriend, not a business coach. I shouldn’t have done that.”
I glared at him.
“Of course they’re sexist, of course it’s terrible, of course you deserve a promotion,” he said. “You care more about that job than anything else in your life. You’re amazing at it, you work incredibly hard. If you worked at the bank, I’d promote you like a shot.”
I eyed him, but I was softening.
“Promise you’ll never torment me like that again?” I asked.
“Cross my heart and hope to die,” he said. “How can I make it up to you?”
“Ice cream would be a good start,” I said, cracking a smile.
He signaled for the check. “Can we get this boxed up?” he asked the waiter. “We have to go buy some ice cream.”
The poor man hardly blinked, and carried the rest of our food back to the kitchen.
“Mike!” I said, laughing. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m sorry, were you still eating? We can finish at my place,” he said, with a salacious smile. “Ice cream first, though. Very important. Have to go pick up a pint of forgiveness.”
We showed up at his place with our Thai food in one bag and two pints of ice cream in another, laughing and shoving each other as we went up the steps to his condo.
“I can’t wait to have this,” I said, holding up the bag with the ice cream in it.
“Forget about the ice cream, I can’t wait to have you,” he said, and pulled me close for a searing kiss right there on his front steps. My toes actually curled with pleasure.
He kissed up my neck, under the streetlight, and whispered in my ear “I’m going to fuck you until you see stars.”
I turned to catch his lips in another kiss.
When we parted for breath, I leaned up to whisper back in his ear, "I can't wait."
He growled, a primal sound that send lust shooting all the way to my toes, and his hand shot into his pocket for his keys.
He unlocked his front door and let it swing open, tossing his keys into the bowl on the table just inside the door.
"Oh, time to go in already?" I asked in a mock-innocent tone.
Mike grabbed my hand and pulled me firmly into the house. As soon as he shut the door, he had me pressed against it, trapped there by his strong body.
I wanted to feel safe and protected in his arms, but I couldn't pretend to myself that I did. I felt like I was watching myself, and I knew what I should be feeling, but all I felt was desire.
Apparently I winced, because he pulled away.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I said. “My hair was caught behind me.”
It wasn't fair to him that I didn't feel what I wanted to, after all. I didn't want to ruin the moment – after all, it was a good moment, shaping up to be an excellent one.
I pulled my hair from between me and the door and let it drape over my shoulders.
He grinned at me and claimed my mouth in another expert kiss. His hand moved up to grab one of my breasts in a strong, assured motion, and he found my hard nipple through my shirt, tracing little patterns around it with his thumb.
I moaned and leaned against him, enjoying the feel of his muscular body against mine. Through his thin wool trousers I could feel how hard he was.
I bucked against him and was rewarded with a small moan.
“God, I want to feel your mouth,” he said. “Will you get on your knees for me?”
I would.
I sank to my knees right there in the entryway. He backed up to give me a little room, and unzipped his fly to free his shaft from the pants and boxers he was wearing.
As I opened my mouth and leaned forward, I shut my eyes and breathed in the rich scent of him.
I leaned forward until my tongue was touching the underside of the head of his cock, licking off the bead of pre-cum glistening there with a flick of my tongue.
He tasted salty, but not unpleasantly so.
I adjusted my hand on his shaft and leaned forward, taking his cockhead into my mouth and flicking my tongue against the underside, licking away the precum as it appeared.
Carefully, I sucked on the heavy organ in my mouth. I stopped flicking my tongue and began running it in circles around the head.
Mike reached his hand do
wn and wrapped it around my own, slowly moving it up and down his thick shaft, from my lips to the root. After three long strokes, he let go of my hand.
"Keep stroking," he said quietly.
