Maybe one of those rubber bracelets, or maybe a special tattoo only women can see. Something in ultraviolet ink. Maybe a nametag that says, “I’m Todd, and I’m a homosexual.”
Maybe Kenny’s right. Some sleep could turn this around for me. Or at least stop the crazy thoughts form bouncing around in my head! Do I have any Xanax at home?
Kenny hits the spot, causing me to lean into him and moan.
“Why are all you good guys unavailable or gay?” I say absently.
Kenny’s hands stop what they’re doing and he stands stalk still behind me, not saying a word. I suddenly wish I’d kept my big mouth shut. I’ve offended him.
I take a breath, trying to think up an apology, when suddenly Kenny starts rubbing my shoulders again.
“Actually,” he says. “I’m not gay.”
It takes a moment before his words register in my head, and my eyes snap wide open with a shock.
Kenny leans down until his lips brush against the flesh under my ear. His breath is hot and it sends a shiver through my body.
“And I’m available, too,” I can smell his aftershave, I can feel the heat his body’s giving off. “Completely at your disposal.”
I gulp. I feel my body shudder, and my loins quiver.
I feel his hands slide from their places on my shoulders and I suddenly feel a stabbing sense of abandonment. I hear his steps as he turns to leave.
“You should get some rest. Could be a real late night tomorrow.”
When I turn around he’s gone.
~*~
I’m exhausted the next morning when I roll into work. I’d slept all right, but my dreams wore me out. I dreamt of Kenny’s magic fingers. Over and over again the scene would start, his hands kneading my shoulders, then working down over my breasts, slipping into my blouse and teasing my nipples.
“Would you like anything else?” he’d inquire, his lips brushing the flesh of my neck.
But before I could answer I’d be in my office, alone again, and I’d hear him come in.
This dream went on and on, and when my alarm woke me up I was exhausted, and my sheets were not only uprooted and twisted all about me, but they were soaked.
~*~
Kenny isn’t at his desk when I get in. I feel a pang of disappointment, and then a flutter of relief. And then I see my coffee, steaming hot, sitting next to a vase of a dozen red roses.
I gulp.
Oh boy, this is getting complicated before it even gets past first base. I reach for the card but my hand starts shaking. Get a grip, I tell myself. I pull open the envelope to the card and read the hand written message.
Carly,
Thanks for all your good work on my account.
We’ll have to have diner soon, and celebrate.
Regards,
Roger Stevens
I’m holding my breath again, and suddenly I let it out. Again with the fluttering relief ... but the disappointment is more of a gong than a ping. Roger Stevens is one of the firm’s newest clients, and the ad campaign I’d cooked up to sell their line of women’s intimate products had gone over well in the market.
“Your meeting with Rayburn has been moved up.” Kenny says.
I jump and drop the card from Stevens on the floor. Kenny strides in, kneels and retrieves it for me, righting himself and then handing the card back to me. “They’re waiting for you in Ms. Fuller’s office,” There isn’t a trace of a smile, or any flirting in his eyes. Just the same old Kenny, ever present, dependable ... maybe I’d dreamt the whole “not gay” and “available” thing?
“And Grim from Haberdash Inc confirmed your lunch date, at Lamont.”
“Thanks,” I say, turning to leave. If it had been just a dream then my day was going to a lot less eventful than I’d hoped. And as I walk away I start to regret my choice in underwear. A sexy red, satin bra with a matching thong. The braw was gorgeous, but the thong was already riding up my ass!
“Miss. Clark?” Kenny says.
I stop and
Maybe Kenny’s right. Some sleep could turn this around for me. Or at least stop the crazy thoughts form bouncing around in my head! Do I have any Xanax at home?
Kenny hits the spot, causing me to lean into him and moan.
“Why are all you good guys unavailable or gay?” I say absently.
Kenny’s hands stop what they’re doing and he stands stalk still behind me, not saying a word. I suddenly wish I’d kept my big mouth shut. I’ve offended him.
I take a breath, trying to think up an apology, when suddenly Kenny starts rubbing my shoulders again.
“Actually,” he says. “I’m not gay.”
It takes a moment before his words register in my head, and my eyes snap wide open with a shock.
Kenny leans down until his lips brush against the flesh under my ear. His breath is hot and it sends a shiver through my body.
“And I’m available, too,” I can smell his aftershave, I can feel the heat his body’s giving off. “Completely at your disposal.”
I gulp. I feel my body shudder, and my loins quiver.
I feel his hands slide from their places on my shoulders and I suddenly feel a stabbing sense of abandonment. I hear his steps as he turns to leave.
“You should get some rest. Could be a real late night tomorrow.”
When I turn around he’s gone.
~*~
I’m exhausted the next morning when I roll into work. I’d slept all right, but my dreams wore me out. I dreamt of Kenny’s magic fingers. Over and over again the scene would start, his hands kneading my shoulders, then working down over my breasts, slipping into my blouse and teasing my nipples.
“Would you like anything else?” he’d inquire, his lips brushing the flesh of my neck.
But before I could answer I’d be in my office, alone again, and I’d hear him come in.
This dream went on and on, and when my alarm woke me up I was exhausted, and my sheets were not only uprooted and twisted all about me, but they were soaked.
~*~
Kenny isn’t at his desk when I get in. I feel a pang of disappointment, and then a flutter of relief. And then I see my coffee, steaming hot, sitting next to a vase of a dozen red roses.
I gulp.
Oh boy, this is getting complicated before it even gets past first base. I reach for the card but my hand starts shaking. Get a grip, I tell myself. I pull open the envelope to the card and read the hand written message.
Carly,
Thanks for all your good work on my account.
We’ll have to have diner soon, and celebrate.
Regards,
Roger Stevens
I’m holding my breath again, and suddenly I let it out. Again with the fluttering relief ... but the disappointment is more of a gong than a ping. Roger Stevens is one of the firm’s newest clients, and the ad campaign I’d cooked up to sell their line of women’s intimate products had gone over well in the market.
“Your meeting with Rayburn has been moved up.” Kenny says.
I jump and drop the card from Stevens on the floor. Kenny strides in, kneels and retrieves it for me, righting himself and then handing the card back to me. “They’re waiting for you in Ms. Fuller’s office,” There isn’t a trace of a smile, or any flirting in his eyes. Just the same old Kenny, ever present, dependable ... maybe I’d dreamt the whole “not gay” and “available” thing?
“And Grim from Haberdash Inc confirmed your lunch date, at Lamont.”
“Thanks,” I say, turning to leave. If it had been just a dream then my day was going to a lot less eventful than I’d hoped. And as I walk away I start to regret my choice in underwear. A sexy red, satin bra with a matching thong. The braw was gorgeous, but the thong was already riding up my ass!
“Miss. Clark?” Kenny says.
I stop and
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