shoes.
* * *
Oh, my God, it’s so hot in here. Do I have pit stains? I can feel my vagina sweating. Do vaginas smell when they sweat? My head itches. I can’t itch my head or they’ll think I have lice. Eeeeew, lice are gross. Why do my hands look sparkly?
Holding my hand up in front of my face, I turn my wrist back and forth and watch my pretty, sparkly hand glitter in the sunlight streaming in from the floor-to-ceiling windows in the reception area of the building.
Why does my skin look like Edward Cullen’s? My head itches.
“Twilight, Mr. Front Butt will see you now.”
I giggle, dropping my hand to look up at the receptionist as she stands in the doorway holding the door open that leads to the offices.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I ask in confusion, shaking my head to clear my thoughts.
“I said, Noel, Mr. Fronbet will see you now,” she repeats with a soft smile.
Grabbing my purse from the chair next to me, I quickly stand and stumble forward when the room spins, planting my feet wide and holding my arms out to the side to steady myself.
“I think the floors are uneven,” I mumble, my voice sounding like it’s echoing in a wide cavern in my ears. “Do you hear that echo? It’s so weird.”
The woman looks at me in confusion as I walk very slowly past her, running my hand along the wall next to me as I go to keep me upright.
“Turd crawfish on the breast,” she tells me with a tight-lipped smile.
I clap my hand over my mouth to contain my giggle, stopping in the hallway just beyond her to lean against the wall.
“Third office on the left,” she repeats.
“Yes, that makes much more sense,” I tell her with a grin, pulling my shirt away from my body and fanning myself with the material. “It’s like an oven in here. I have boob sweat.”
She lifts her arm and points down the hall toward where I’m supposed to be heading, not saying anything else. Which is probably for the breast. I mean best. Ha ha, oh my God, I feel like dancing! Why aren’t they playing music in here? It could really liven this place up if they had a little techno piped through the speakers.
With a nod, I turn and head down the hall, knocking on the open door of the third office on the left. A man in a grey business suit looks up from his desk and smiles, waving me into the office.
Wow. He’s hot. Like, really hot. I should have sex with him right now. On top of his desk. My vagina feels funny. All tingly, like my itchy head and my sweaty boobs.
“Miss Holiday, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Dick Front Butt,” he tells me, standing up from his office chair and extending his arm out toward me over the top of his desk.
“Wow! Dick Front Butt is an excellent name,” I tell him, walking quickly across the room and grabbing his hand.
He laughs, dropping my hand and pointing to a chair next to me. “It’s Rick Fronbet, actually, but that was pretty funny. Never heard that one before.”
Flopping down on the chair, I toss my coat and purse onto the floor at my feet and take a few seconds to wipe the sweat from my palms on the top of my skirt.
“Sorry, I have sweaty palms. Not to be confused with hairy palms. It’s like, really hot in here. Do you care if I take my shoes off? My feet itch and these shoes are ugly,” I tell him, kicking my heels off before he can say anything.
I sigh in relief when my feet are bare and start rubbing them against the scratchy carpet.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he says with a smile, sitting back down behind his desk. “One of my managers recommended I meet with you. She told me her husband and your fiancé are in the Marine Corps together.”
I start fanning my face with my hand when I feel a bead of sweat drip down from my forehead.
“He’s my fake fiancé, actually. He proposed to me on Christmas Eve, but he was pretending to be my ex-boyfriend at the time because I didn’t want my family to know I’d broken up with the real one right
* * *
Oh, my God, it’s so hot in here. Do I have pit stains? I can feel my vagina sweating. Do vaginas smell when they sweat? My head itches. I can’t itch my head or they’ll think I have lice. Eeeeew, lice are gross. Why do my hands look sparkly?
Holding my hand up in front of my face, I turn my wrist back and forth and watch my pretty, sparkly hand glitter in the sunlight streaming in from the floor-to-ceiling windows in the reception area of the building.
Why does my skin look like Edward Cullen’s? My head itches.
“Twilight, Mr. Front Butt will see you now.”
I giggle, dropping my hand to look up at the receptionist as she stands in the doorway holding the door open that leads to the offices.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I ask in confusion, shaking my head to clear my thoughts.
“I said, Noel, Mr. Fronbet will see you now,” she repeats with a soft smile.
Grabbing my purse from the chair next to me, I quickly stand and stumble forward when the room spins, planting my feet wide and holding my arms out to the side to steady myself.
“I think the floors are uneven,” I mumble, my voice sounding like it’s echoing in a wide cavern in my ears. “Do you hear that echo? It’s so weird.”
The woman looks at me in confusion as I walk very slowly past her, running my hand along the wall next to me as I go to keep me upright.
“Turd crawfish on the breast,” she tells me with a tight-lipped smile.
I clap my hand over my mouth to contain my giggle, stopping in the hallway just beyond her to lean against the wall.
“Third office on the left,” she repeats.
“Yes, that makes much more sense,” I tell her with a grin, pulling my shirt away from my body and fanning myself with the material. “It’s like an oven in here. I have boob sweat.”
She lifts her arm and points down the hall toward where I’m supposed to be heading, not saying anything else. Which is probably for the breast. I mean best. Ha ha, oh my God, I feel like dancing! Why aren’t they playing music in here? It could really liven this place up if they had a little techno piped through the speakers.
With a nod, I turn and head down the hall, knocking on the open door of the third office on the left. A man in a grey business suit looks up from his desk and smiles, waving me into the office.
Wow. He’s hot. Like, really hot. I should have sex with him right now. On top of his desk. My vagina feels funny. All tingly, like my itchy head and my sweaty boobs.
“Miss Holiday, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Dick Front Butt,” he tells me, standing up from his office chair and extending his arm out toward me over the top of his desk.
“Wow! Dick Front Butt is an excellent name,” I tell him, walking quickly across the room and grabbing his hand.
He laughs, dropping my hand and pointing to a chair next to me. “It’s Rick Fronbet, actually, but that was pretty funny. Never heard that one before.”
Flopping down on the chair, I toss my coat and purse onto the floor at my feet and take a few seconds to wipe the sweat from my palms on the top of my skirt.
“Sorry, I have sweaty palms. Not to be confused with hairy palms. It’s like, really hot in here. Do you care if I take my shoes off? My feet itch and these shoes are ugly,” I tell him, kicking my heels off before he can say anything.
I sigh in relief when my feet are bare and start rubbing them against the scratchy carpet.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he says with a smile, sitting back down behind his desk. “One of my managers recommended I meet with you. She told me her husband and your fiancé are in the Marine Corps together.”
I start fanning my face with my hand when I feel a bead of sweat drip down from my forehead.
“He’s my fake fiancé, actually. He proposed to me on Christmas Eve, but he was pretending to be my ex-boyfriend at the time because I didn’t want my family to know I’d broken up with the real one right