Overcoming

by H. R. Kitte-Rojas

  ***

  Denny arranged the trade between departments, so Miles could transfer to Service, but Berger insisted that the exchange be delayed for a while, until the next area evaluation was complete. Miles continued installing, but was relieved to know he'd be going to Service eventually. Denny also assured him that his preconception about standby was misguided: Service techs did pull more standby, since there were less techs in their pool than the Install pool, but it was still a week at a time, and happened about once a month.

  When off-duty, Miles visited Rita a lot. The sex was fantastic. And true to her word, Rita apparently attached no strings. She was a fantasy come true. Her sexual appetite was insatiable. She came at least fifteen times a night, and put on a show that would stoke any man's ego: moaning; wailing; digging fingernails into his back; talking dirty; no inhibitions whatsoever. After the initial desperation of release that first time with her, Miles delighted in building her lust up slow, then finding new ways to give her pleasure--a student who never tired of learning.

  Rita was on the pill, but insisted on condoms too, for safety. And because it made Miles last even longer, and she liked the added sensation of the ribs. She rented pornographic movies for them to watch together. She read erotic stories, and shared her favorites with him. Sometimes, they acted out something they'd just watched or read about. When her period came, she unselfishly kept Miles satisfied with expert use of hands and mouth.

  Rita was pleasant company, too. They often talked after or in between sex, and had an unspoken competition over who could come up with the naughtiest innuendos during normal conversation. As long as they avoided certain topics, like politics, they got along just fine. Sometimes, exhausted after multiple bouts of intercourse, Miles fell asleep. Rita didn't seem to mind. In fact, she often fell asleep with him. She was a fun date. They enjoyed the same kind of movies, had mutually interesting conversations over dinner, and took advantage of every free ticket Avcom gave him for hockey games or other local events.

  There was an emotional involvement, but no pressure for commitment or exclusivity. Miles had found the perfect woman, he thought.

  So it made no sense why he was still so drawn to the CSR girl he'd never even seen.

  The day of the conference arrived. Schedules were arranged and routes cut in half so every Avcom employee could attend. Each department had to get on stage, perform some ridiculous skit or song, and tell everyone how they were doing their part to meet Avcom's goals for the year. The audit crew actually rented police costumes and portrayed themselves as "the Cable Cops" while breakdancing to "Bad Boys." The warehouse team sang "we are the wind beneath your wings" dressed in angel costumes.

  Miles had seriously considered calling in sick that day, but didn't want to lose his upcoming perfect attendance award. So, with the rest of Berger's install crew, he climbed on stage wearing a paper Burger King hat and played air guitar while Tyrell took the mike and sung slogans about on-time guarantees, voice-over IP and sports packages to the tune of a popular song.

  Several teams from Customer Service went on stage to perform-each with their own skit, song and motif. One of them drew raucous laughter before they even started. They wore hula-dancer outfits, including the guys. The females wore grass skirts over their clothes, and tropical-themed blouses. The males danced in the front row, obscuring the view of the women behind them, and wore stuffed bikini tops--some of them fashioned from coconut halves, Gilligan's Island-style.

  By this time, Berger's Installers were seated. Miles had thrown the hat away and now snickered with the rest of the company at the poor chumps making fools of themselves on stage. He paid no attention to the song lyrics, or anything else being said, until he heard a familiar name.

  "Added to our long list of victories," a woman was saying, "we've just gained a new team leader from within our ranks. In the last few weeks, Shauna Gales has led her team to the second-lowest average call time in the division!"

  Miles stopped snickering, eyes snapping to the stage, searching for a 300-pound redhead with cystic acne. "Who did she just say?" he asked the guy next to him, but his question was lost in the din of applause.

  In front of the other "hula dancers," two women stood by the microphone. One was a middle-aged blonde. The other looked like a chubby ghetto fly girl.

  The well-endowed young black woman took the mike, and waved one tiny hand back toward the CSRs behind her. "I just want to thank my reps, because it really was a team effort. It seems like a thankless job sometimes, but I want to thank them here and now for working with me to increase our excellence."

  Miles' jaw dropped. It was her voice.

  More departments came and went onstage, but Miles paid no attention. He just laughed to himself, amazed at how, of all the mental images he'd painted, good and bad, none of them even came close to what Shauna actually looked like.

  Miles replayed their phone conversations in his mind. She never gave him the impression of being as materialistic and superficial as other black girls he'd known. She put out vibes of humility, honesty and compassion, which he couldn't help but admire. And her accent, or lack of one, had thrown him, too. He thought, at times, that they were flirting with each other. Now he realized that was all in his imagination. Certainly she would have no interest in white boys with dead-end blue collar jobs. He laughed at himself again.

  When the meeting broke up, he swam through the mob flooding out of the auditorium, and visited the restroom. When he came out, approximately one third of the attendees remained, milling about. Shauna stood talking with some other CSRs in the hallway leading to the main lobby. He started and stopped several times, unsure now if he should instigate the meeting he'd been hoping for. Finally, he decided he should at least shake her hand and thank her for the help she'd given him.

  As he approached, and she grew nearer in his vision, he felt ashamed for ever classifying her as "ghetto" or "chubby." She certainly did have some dangerous curves, but she also had tons of class--it was obvious in her posture, her smile, and the way she spoke to those around her. And she was drop-dead beautiful: her warm brown eyes put both Barbara Rush and Natalie Wood to shame. Technically, her nose was too broad to pass the inspection of the Hollywood and fashion czars who decide what is beautiful for the rest of society, but it completed the design of her features perfectly. Her face was delicately exquisite. Her hands small, wonderfully formed and extremely feminine--both in shape and the way she used them. Her black hair was braided, hanging just to above her shoulders. Her legs...and she was showing a lot of them...were thick but still nice. She still wore the hula costume skirt over her outfit. Her soft, knit minidress was lime green, form-fitting and sleeveless. Matching that bright, robust green were her lace-up stiletto heels and something resembling a frilly garter around her wrist. She wore a lei made of white flowers, a matching flower in her hair, and a gold ankle bracelet.

  ***

  Shauna broke off her conversation with Marcie when a man in a technician's uniform approached her. He was tall, athletically built, and white, with a farmer's tan. She had never seen him before, for surely she would remember eyes like his. She wondered, at first, if he might be wearing contacts. Most "blue" eyes were actually gray, like Jenny's. These eyes were as deep blue as a clear sky, and resembled marbles, with black and white striations, but with an intense glow of intelligence behind them. His jaw was strong, his ears perfect, his hair brown, cut short.

  "Shauna?" he asked.

  "Hello," she said, wondering where he knew her from.

  "Miles Bowser," he said. "We talked on the phone a couple times."

  "Miles?" She laughed nervously. He certainly looked nothing like her father! Only now did she confront the subconscious portrait she had rendered of him--which resembled pictures of Daddy when he was young. She not only felt surprised, but betrayed--by who, she didn't know.

  Marcie saw someone she recognized walking by, and glided over to intercept, leaving Shauna and Miles in relative privacy.
<
br />   "I wanted to thank you," Miles said. "First of all, I'm still grateful that you believed me back when that customer accused me of drilling through her wall without permission. We get accused of stuff all the time, and it was nice to feel like somebody was finally on my side."

  She waved dismissively. "Oh, no problem. We got your back."

  "I also want to thank you for processing the sales I've made," he said.

  "You're welcome. Just doing my job."

  His expression turned strange for a second. "Really? Up until I started going through you, I hardly ever got anything back for my sales. I think I got a poker chip for every single sale you processed, though."

  Shauna bit her lip. If this were true, then somebody in the call center had been stealing his sales and turning them in as their own for points in the incentive program.

  "Anyway," Miles said, "I'm very grateful. And congratulations on your promotion, and the good job you're doing and all that." He extended his hand as he spoke, locking eyes with her.

  She shook his hand and something like an electric charge went up her arm. His hand was hard and strong; his grip gentle. But it was more than that. Maybe the direct eye contact, so close up, disturbed her? No. It felt like a tiny electric jolt shooting up from where his skin contacted hers. She broke off the handshake. "Oh, it's nothing," she muttered, gesturing dismissively again.

  "Well, the other office people evidently think you're doing a bang-up job," he said. As he spoke, his gaze dropped down to where she had hastily released his hand. He flashed her a nervous grin. "Anyway, I didn't mean to interrupt anything. It was nice to finally meet you."

  He turned and strode down the hall, through the lobby and out the door. She watched him go, accidentally letting her gaze drop. His pants weren't very tight, but she could tell he had a cute butt.

  Jenny slid over, facing Shauna, but her eyes darting back after Miles. "Who was that, Shauna?"

  "That was Tech Number 7188," Shauna said.

  "I know that number," Jenny said, then covered her mouth as if stifling a laugh, and playfully slapped at Shauna's shoulder with her other hand. "He's been giving us a lot of sales, this year."

  Shauna snapped back into the present, the spell broken. "Who is 'us'?"

  "Me and Brad," Jenny said. "Mostly Brad, the little fruit. I think he's going to win the hi-def TV."

  "You and Brad have been stealing that man's sales?" Shauna was indignant, feeling heat in her face.

  Jenny took a step back and made a face. "Whoa, calm down! That's just the way it works."

  "The way it works? How long has this been going on?"

  "Since the incentive program started, I think. C'mon, Shauna: we have to process all the account changes. The technicians don't do a damn thing. Why should they get the poker chip?"

  "Because they made the sale, Jenny."

  "They don't make enough sales to win any prizes," Jenny reasoned. "At least we have a shot."

  Shauna turned away, raising her hands and wiggling them. "We'll discuss this later," she said, and marched through the lobby to the door.

  ***

  Miles cursed as he climbed into the van. One of two things had just occurred: Either Shauna jerked her hand away because she found him repulsive; or he had held onto her hand too long, made too much eye contact, or otherwise came off like a creep.

  He was sure the handshake didn't breach any professional etiquette, but maybe he did hang on too long. Or maybe she disliked white men. Or maybe his eyes lingered on her voluptuous curves too long as he walked toward her.

  No. The handshake was too long. That had to be it.

  Her small, soft hand just felt so good inside his, he didn't want to let go. But that was rude. Any woman would have been creeped out.

  He shook his head to clear it, and started the van.

  On his way home that night, he phoned Rita.

  "Hello, my stallion," she said, with amusement in her voice.

  "Hello, my she-cougar," he replied. "Listen: I think I'm gonna stay home tonight."

  "What's wrong?"

  She had emphasized the importance of honesty, in and out of the bedroom, since their first night together.

  "I don't know," he said. "I just feel kinda' weird."

  "Weird sick?"

  "No."

  "Weird about me?"

  "Not at all," he said. In fact, he was aroused just remembering being with her. But he didn't feel right about sleeping with her tonight, for some reason.

  "Well," she said, "I do have some work to catch up on anyway. Somebody's been keeping me up at night and I'm too worn out in the morning to get out of bed and start working when I'm supposed to."

  "Who keeps who up?" he teased. "Just for that, I think I will wear you out one night, so you see how it really feels."

  "Mmm. Promises, promises," she purred. "Anyway, get over your weirdness quick. You don't want this fire getting too hot before you come back, or you might get burned."

  "Promises, promises," he said, and they hung up.

  He marveled at how, despite their age difference, they matched up so well sexually. They enjoyed teasing and taunting each other, pleasing and exhausting each other, then recuperating to start all over again. Their stamina in the sack was roughly equal, though each jokingly accused the other of not being able to keep up. Both also took pride in their ability to make the other cum, whether conventionally or via experimentation. He was the obvious champion, quantitatively, while the quality championship was impossible to judge objectively.

  Once home, Miles showered, ate and spent some time working on his miniature helicopter. He wondered if he should dial Shauna's extension next time he needed to speak with a CSR. Would their phone conversations be the same as before? Probably not. Should he apologize for making her uncomfortable? No--that would only make it worse.

  He turned in early, but despite his fatigue, he didn't sleep well that night.

  7

  Shauna had another erotic dream that night. She woke up at 3:30 wet, and not just from sweat. She rinsed off in the shower and went back to bed.

  Clarence called immediately after work that day.

  "When we gonna get together again, Shauna?"

  "Clarence, I don't think we should."

  "What's wrong now?"

  She steered her little green Saturn out of the front parking lot,

  onto Broadcast Lane. "There's nothing wrong with you. I think you're a really great guy." "Sounds like a kiss-off, to me. Is this because I can't get you there yet?"

  "No." She turned left, and accelerated toward the intersection with Wilmington. "Not everything is about sex, Clarence. That's just one part of the big relationship puzzle."

  They'd had this discussion before, but Shauna was determined not to be appeased this time. He promised her they would work through it; told her how much he needed her; reminded her of the financial security he had to offer. He even dangled nursing school in front of her nose--he could pay her tuition and expenses with no need for her to work. She told him she wasn't in love, and that was the bottom line.

  "So you ain't gonna see me at all?" Clarence asked, as Shauna parked in front of Mum's house.

  "I'll still hang out with you, Clarence. You're still my friend, if you want that."

  "You know I already scheduled a day off for that stupid company picnic of yours."

  "Thank-you," she said, sincerely. "I still want you to take us, OK?"

  "Damn, Shauna. What does a man have to do for you?"

  The call center settled down a bit with the conference behind them. Shauna got back to reviewing call logs, brainstorming for ways to be more efficient, and, careful not to single out Jenny or Brad, she put an end to sales thievery in her team.

  One day Marcie brought in a short, pale, stocky technician with a pony tail and a pierced eyebrow. She gestured for Shauna to come over.

  "Shauna, this is Jason Rumkis, Matt Berger's lead tech." Shauna and Jason shook hands.

  "He's going t
o be observing what goes on in the call center

  today," Marcie said. "I think you've got an empty cubicle in your team. Have him watch one of our reps for a while. Later, let him handle some calls himself, once he's familiar with the criteria."

  "Oh," Shauna said. "This is part of that trade-off thing." Every so often, Avcom had office personnel observe actions in the field, and vice-versa. It seemed like a good idea.

  "Right," Marcie said. "And tomorrow, you'll need to dress down a bit: pants and sneakers, at least, because we're sending you to the field."

  Shauna was stunned. "Huh?"

  "You've answered phones, and scheduled appointments with customers," Marcie explained. "So you'll get to see how that plays out in the field. Then, as a team leader, you'll be able to implement ideas or strategies you develop as a result, when you get back."

  "Um, Marcie, will I have to climb up a pole?" She was a little scared of heights.

  Jason sneered and chuckled.

  "No, of course not," Marcie said, patting her shoulder. "Safety first. But I want you to get the most out of the experience you can, all right?"

  Shauna took Katina to the park after work that day, with a picnic basket full of chicken, macaroni & cheese, and fruit for dessert. She read a new paperback while Katina blew bubbles and chased butterflies.

  When she reached a chapter break near the middle of the book, she marked the page and laid back on the blanket, watching Katina play, listening to the birds, and enjoying the breeze. She hadn't liked Jason Rumkis. He was a smug, egotistical weasel, so far as she could tell, and stared at her chest all day. Why couldn't they have sent somebody like Miles Bowser? At least he knew how to talk to people. If he had a fetish for big titties, he at least kept it to himself. And, white or not, he was refreshingly funny, and fun to talk to.