quiet from the cubicles outside her door told her that she was probably the only one still here.
The days were longer now, but she’d grown accustomed to working well past dark.
Wynne turned over in her head the reasons for her discouragement, with two looming very large: her work and Paula McKenzie. Soon, she would likely be out of a job, a job she really liked. Even if her position got a reprieve, it was possible that she wouldn’t be moved up the corporate ladder as long as Ken Markoff held the reins. She could potentially languish in mid-management her entire career. Perhaps it would be best if she was terminated after all, and forced to find something that held more promise.
Speaking of promise, Paula McKenzie was full of promise. Wynne had never met another woman who stirred her the way the pretty blonde hotel manager did, and if their kiss was any indication, the feeling was mutual. But Paula wasn’t in the cards for Wynne, she knew. There were too many obstacles to overcome. So again, she reminded herself that she had nothing to offer but friendship.
Still, Wynne hated where they’d left things last week, not even making plans to see one another again because she had freaked out about Ken Markoff. The way she figured it, she had only two remaining trips to Orlando, and she wanted to have fun.
———
Slayer eyed the distance carefully between the small dining table and the bar at the kitchen, where the woman who lived here at his house was making pictures on a screen by clicking her fingers across its base. If he could get closer, he might persuade her to stop for a moment and scratch his head.
Thump!
“Hi, sweet boy.” Paula’s right hand automatically rose to do his bidding, her left hand manipulating the mouse to log on to her internet connection. She had sent Wynne a cheery email last Thursday, hoping to ease the angst the woman obviously felt about what had happened at dinner the other night. So far, she’d received no reply.
Today, though, was different. Among her 11 new messages — including three that promised to make her penis longer and thicker — was a note from Wynne.
Hi Paula, I’m sorry to be so slow getting back to you. As usual, there is a lot to do when I return to Baltimore, and again when I’m preparing to leave. This is the lull between those times, when only a 10-hour workday is required.
I’ve confirmed with E-M that I have only two remaining trips to Orlando, this weekend and again two weeks later. If I’m invited to participate in the presentation of our plan, that will be in New York, but I’m not holding my breath.
So if you can overlook the fact that I became a total basket case the last time we went out, I’d love it if we could get together again next Tuesday.
Since you mentioned the fireworks at Disney, I wonder if you’d be willing to consider an evening there. I sure hope so.
Wynne Paula reread the note several times, not just to understand what it said, but to come to terms with what it didn’t say. Two more visits and that would be it. Obviously, Wynne wasn’t thinking past her work here in Orlando. In fact, that kiss they’d shared seemed a long time ago, and Wynne hadn’t made any kind of sign at all that she wanted to go there again.
Disappointment hung in the air as Paula shut down her computer. She had been nearly certain that things had clicked for Wynne just as they had for her, especially after their kiss. Her practical side said it was probably just as well — not much you can do with a girlfriend in Baltimore when you live a thousand miles away and work at a job that gives you Tuesdays and Saturdays off. But the impulsive side was frustrated. She had hoped that they might be able to work something out.
At the very least, though, she’d made a friend, perhaps even someone she would see again if Wynne held onto her job and made occasional trips to the company’s headquarters. But the idea of having Wynne Connelly as a friend
The days were longer now, but she’d grown accustomed to working well past dark.
Wynne turned over in her head the reasons for her discouragement, with two looming very large: her work and Paula McKenzie. Soon, she would likely be out of a job, a job she really liked. Even if her position got a reprieve, it was possible that she wouldn’t be moved up the corporate ladder as long as Ken Markoff held the reins. She could potentially languish in mid-management her entire career. Perhaps it would be best if she was terminated after all, and forced to find something that held more promise.
Speaking of promise, Paula McKenzie was full of promise. Wynne had never met another woman who stirred her the way the pretty blonde hotel manager did, and if their kiss was any indication, the feeling was mutual. But Paula wasn’t in the cards for Wynne, she knew. There were too many obstacles to overcome. So again, she reminded herself that she had nothing to offer but friendship.
Still, Wynne hated where they’d left things last week, not even making plans to see one another again because she had freaked out about Ken Markoff. The way she figured it, she had only two remaining trips to Orlando, and she wanted to have fun.
———
Slayer eyed the distance carefully between the small dining table and the bar at the kitchen, where the woman who lived here at his house was making pictures on a screen by clicking her fingers across its base. If he could get closer, he might persuade her to stop for a moment and scratch his head.
Thump!
“Hi, sweet boy.” Paula’s right hand automatically rose to do his bidding, her left hand manipulating the mouse to log on to her internet connection. She had sent Wynne a cheery email last Thursday, hoping to ease the angst the woman obviously felt about what had happened at dinner the other night. So far, she’d received no reply.
Today, though, was different. Among her 11 new messages — including three that promised to make her penis longer and thicker — was a note from Wynne.
Hi Paula, I’m sorry to be so slow getting back to you. As usual, there is a lot to do when I return to Baltimore, and again when I’m preparing to leave. This is the lull between those times, when only a 10-hour workday is required.
I’ve confirmed with E-M that I have only two remaining trips to Orlando, this weekend and again two weeks later. If I’m invited to participate in the presentation of our plan, that will be in New York, but I’m not holding my breath.
So if you can overlook the fact that I became a total basket case the last time we went out, I’d love it if we could get together again next Tuesday.
Since you mentioned the fireworks at Disney, I wonder if you’d be willing to consider an evening there. I sure hope so.
Wynne Paula reread the note several times, not just to understand what it said, but to come to terms with what it didn’t say. Two more visits and that would be it. Obviously, Wynne wasn’t thinking past her work here in Orlando. In fact, that kiss they’d shared seemed a long time ago, and Wynne hadn’t made any kind of sign at all that she wanted to go there again.
Disappointment hung in the air as Paula shut down her computer. She had been nearly certain that things had clicked for Wynne just as they had for her, especially after their kiss. Her practical side said it was probably just as well — not much you can do with a girlfriend in Baltimore when you live a thousand miles away and work at a job that gives you Tuesdays and Saturdays off. But the impulsive side was frustrated. She had hoped that they might be able to work something out.
At the very least, though, she’d made a friend, perhaps even someone she would see again if Wynne held onto her job and made occasional trips to the company’s headquarters. But the idea of having Wynne Connelly as a friend
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