Yes, I Can Do This

by Laran Mithras

  She wanted to snap at him that she had, but coming so early on top of her discovery of her husband's fantasy, she pursed her lips and just nodded. She saw that twinkle in his eye and his gaze took in her clothing with a fraction of a second glance. She watched a small smile appear.

  He said, "I'll need that Attendance Projection first thing."

  She got up from her chair and stood so he could see all of her. She rubbed her fingernail up by her blouse as if in thought. "Of course." She gave him what she thought was an encouraging smile.

  He frowned a little. "Shannon hasn't finished the registration tally yet; you might give her a hand with that."

  Of course I have to. I always do. But let's focus on… She moved closer to him and smiled, lowering her chin a little so she could look up at him through her lashes. This always works with the guys. "Sure, I'll help her."

  He loomed above her, the smile returning. His eyes flashed a quick glance at the rest of her and returned to her face. That twinkle was there.

  She stopped in front of him and lifted her hand to touch his arm. "I think I'll get a coffee and get right on it."

  His face went stony.

  Uhh, what? Where'd the twinkle go?

  Michael straightened up, tall and stern. His words were low, pitched for her ears alone. "Let's remember to keep personal distance at all times. I view your contact as inappropriate and abusive."

  Inappropriate? Abusive? My kick to your groin would be inappropriate and abusive. You want me to go all out? She couldn't believe her ears. Inappropriate? Why you officious fucking prick. She blinked, looked away, and tried to move past him.

  He was blocking the door.

  Exactly what am I supposed to do? Turn into a ghost and go through you? Or would that be spiritually inappropriate? Metaphysically abusive? Her words came out with a touch of acid. "Are you going to move so I can get my coffee?"

  "I'm not sure I appreciate your tone."

  Her little fuse gave up without so much as a sizzle. "Appreciate my tone? What the hell does that mean? My tone must please you? Is that some kind of sexist comment Mister Taylor?"

  His eyes went wide and he backed up suddenly, hands raised as if to show he wasn't touching anything. "I simply said—"

  She advanced, pointing her finger. "I don't appreciate you blocking my door as if I need your permission as a man to enter or exit. I don't appreciate you looking me up and down. I don't appreciate your condescending chauvinist attitude that demands I pick up Shannon's work just because she has a bigger chest."

  Michael was pasty pale.

  The office was entirely silent. Only the hum of the fluorescents was heard. Heads were popped up over cubicles, eyes wide and shocked.

  Shannon stood at the other end of the office space and heaved her breasts as if breathlessly offended – her mouth open in mock outrage.

  Michael slowly lowered his hands. "I think maybe you should get your coffee."

  The nerve. What a pig. She stomped past him. Fuck you, prick. No way in hell you're ever getting inside these jeans. Fucking twinkly-eyed tease. What a dick. She swished through the office and into the small eating area.

  People parted for her as if she was on fire. No one said a word.

  She carried her coffee back to her office, deliberately challenging anyone looking to say anything. Each looked away.

  It was a full hour before someone stuck their head in. Derek gave her an eye and a grin. "Hey, just wanted to say good for you for standing up to him."

  "Huh?"

  He shrugged as if his muscles were tight. "You know, the whole Shannon thing. You're right, he lets her get away with too much."

  She stopped what she was doing and focused on him. "Oh. Yeah…"

  He was looking her over with an uncertain look. He glanced at the door. "If you want, I can straighten your nameplate for you. Easy fix." He gave her a grin that indicated he was wanting to do it to be close to her.

  She adjusted her glasses. "Why?"

  He looked confused. "Well…it's crooked."

  "Is it?"

  He really looked confused.

  She leaned forward a little and indicated her glasses. "You know, it might be, but my glasses don't sit exactly straight on my nose, so I guess I don't notice it. I see it straight."

  He looked seriously confused and sort of nodded as if he understood but obviously didn't. "Oh…right…"

  She turned away to her monitor.

  CHAPTER 3

  Tina leaned over to Cheryl. "I blew up today at my boss."

  They sat in the Velvet Lounge, a dark-wooded, low-lit cozy bar teeming with people. Conversations were private at almost any level of volume. While not loud, so many people talking and laughing created a safe buzz that made conversations the table over incomprehensible.

  Her friend always seemed on the edge of a decision. Black haired with a few strands of gray coming in, Cheryl seemed adrift and lost in a sea of opportunity – paddling one way and then the next in a focused effort to find something for which she wasn't sure she was searching. Cheryl said, "Oh? What happened?"

  She swirled her screwdriver. "I told you before he looks at me with that—"

  Cheryl's voice was sarcastic. "Yeah, old twinkle-eyes. You finally get in his pants?"

  "What? No—"

  "Did he have a teenie weenie or something?"

  Tina coughed. "Like, no—"

  "It was huge?"

  She laughed. "Stop it."

  "You aren't telling me anything." There was tease in her tone.

  "I wore this today—"

  A very dry tone. "No kidding?"

  Tina coughed. "It's not my normal work-clothes."

  "I noticed." The yeah-obvious look on her face was long and strong.

  "Would you shut up?"

  "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Go on."

  "So I decided to ditch the baggy clothes—"

  "Smart move."

  "You didn't like them, either?"

  "No, they made you look like you're trying to be an old woman who is trying to hide her figure."

  Her hand came up to her throat as if to close off view of her cleavage. "Well, I was, you know." She plucked at a button.

  Cheryl gave her a suffering look. "You have a figure to die for."

  Tina laughed. "What? Come on. I have no hips, no breasts—"

  An eyebrow stopped her. "Most women would kill a whole herd of helpless baby seals and feel no remorse to have a figure like yours."

  She coughed in indignation. "That's not nice. Poor seals."

  "Oh god, lighten up. It was just a joke. But really."

  She shook her head as if informing a credit applicant that their credentials sucked far too badly to get a loan. "I'm sorry, but I don't have the kind of assets you do or men desire." She was pointing to her own chest, waving her finger back and forth across it.

  "Some men, honey. Get over it. You're a stick; you should flaunt it and piss off all the land whales while you still have your youth."

  Tina sat back, considering the common sense her friend offered. "Hmm."

  "So what happened with your boss?"

  "I thought I might test that twinkle."

  "Didn't work out?"

  She shook her head.

  "What did you do to test it?"

  "I touched his arm."

  Her eyes popped open comically and her mouth dropped fully open. "Oh. My. God. No. Way."

  Tina broke out in hysterical giggles. "Would you stop it?"

  "Honey, they can't write a book or make a movie out of what you're telling me."

  She blew out an amused and frustrated breath. "He pulled the inappropriate card on me."

  Cheryl looked genuinely surprised. "Get out."

  "Yeah, I know. But I sort of lost it when he wouldn't move. He just kept standing there so I went off on him about he was being a sexist chauvinist—"

  Her friend covered her mouth and laughed.

  "He immediately backed off."

  Che
ryl leaned close and clasped her arm. "Good for you. All this inappropriate bullshit is tiring. Everything is inappropriate today. Instead of killing kids, these shooters need to clean out these stuffy school teachers and principals—"

  "What an awful thing to say." Tina laughed conspiratorially.

  "Better the stuffed shirts than the kids."

  "Oh, well…yeah. You're right."

  "Uh oh…you're getting a look."

  "Huh?"

  "Tall, dark, and sexy over at the bar."

  Tina looked.

  "Don't look, you fool. Oh my gosh."

  She turned back. "What? Why not look? If he's looking, why is it assumed that the person he's looking at isn't supposed to notice?"

  But her friend wasn't paying any attention. She was trying to hide an excited smile. "He's coming. I think I need to use the ladies room."

  "What? Wait—"

  "Try to have a little flirty fun, hun. You won't die." Cheryl scurried away.

  Tina scowled in confusion. Her friend was married, but not too happily. She claimed her husband was interested in blondes. She refused to dye her hair, just to rub it in his face.

  "Hey there…" said tall, dark, and sexy. His voice was interested, deep and immediately attention-grabbing. He was smiling down at her.

  She smiled up uncertainly. "Oh, hi…"

  "I'm Luke; mind if I sit?"

  "Oh…um…" She glanced off in the direction of the restrooms. Her friend was there, peeking. Cheryl gave her an oh-come-on look of encouragement. She smiled for the man and said, "Oh, um, sure." Her grin grew, excited at the prospect, and she nodded at him enthusiastically.

  "What's your name?" He settled down slowly.

  "Tina."

  "Pretty name for a pretty woman." He didn't say it hopefully, more as a simple observation that required no response. "Can I refresh your drink?"

  Tina felt panicked. He's great-looking, around my age, sexy as can be, and not full of himself. Can I flirt with him as part of my new hotwife thing? Would Gerald like this man? Would he approve of me talking to him? She glanced at her drink and then his. His left hand clasped his drink and the glint of an obvious wedding ring winked at her.

  She brought her hand up to her mouth quickly. "Oh, um, you know…"

  His eyes darted to her wedding ring. "Know what?"

  I can't flirt with a married man. Yucko! "I don't think we should…"

  One eyebrow slowly lifted and he looked pointedly at her ring. "Oh…I see." He gave a small grin and got up. "Nice talking to you."

  Relieved he had gotten the hint so quickly and easily, she settled back in her chair.

  Cheryl came back to the table and sat. "Why'd he leave?"

  "He was married."

  "So?"

  "I can't flirt with a married man."

  "You're married, too."

  "Yes, I know."

  "So it's okay if a single man flirts with you?"

  "Well, of course, that's different."

  "Is it okay if a single woman flirts with tall, dark, and sexy?"

  "No, of course not… Oh…"

  "Duh, it's just flirting. If you're married and someone doesn't mind it and flirts with you, why should you mind flirting with a married man?"

  Tina shrugged. "That's kind of messy."

  "Like the men who might approach you haven't thought the same? You're wearing a ring, dear."

  Darn it, you're right. "Well, I hadn't thought much about it—"

  Cheryl leaned forward. "What's there to think about? It's just some fun conversation."

  "I guess it's sort of new to me—"

  Her friend laughed. "With your past?"

  Tina scowled. "I wasn't a slut."

  "No, I didn't say you were. But you knew how to have fun."

  She opened her mouth and looked down. She tapped her glass - on the edge of telling her.

  "Hmm? What is it?"

  She leaned over her glass and motioned slightly to come closer.

  Cheryl leaned nearer.

  "I found out Gerald has a pretty interesting fantasy…"

  Her friend looked distant. "Oh?" She was probably thinking of her husband's thing for blondes.

  Tina said, "He has this hotwife thing."

  Cheryl's eyes went wide and open with abrupt surprise. She gripped her forearm firmly and squeezed. "What? Are you serious?"

  She nodded.

  "Oh. My. God. You are so lucky."

  She laughed uncertainly, looking for confirmation. "You think so?"

  Her friend's eyes closed as if enjoying the aroma of a fine coffee. "Oh, you don't know how much I'd love to be in your position."

  She laughed with more certainty. "Yeah, I thought it was a stroke of luck, too."

  Cheryl's demeanor changed in an instant. She glanced over at the bar. "And you chased that away? Are you for real?"

  Tina opened her mouth like a fish and said nothing.

  Her friend sat back and shook her head. "I can't believe Gerald has this fantasy, you appear excited over it, and you turn that away? Girl, you either need to grow up real fast or just end it all and get a lobotomy."

  "A lobotomy?"

  "Yeah, you can sit in one of those institutions and drool while some random and ugly male orderly fingers and uses you."

  "Ew."

  Cheryl's eyebrow completed the insult. "You turned him away? What were you thinking?"

  Her words were slow and very uncertain. "Because…he was married."

  "Do you think a hotwife is supposed to care?"

  "No, I suppose not." She looked over at the bar.

  Cheryl shook her head. "Too late for him. He won't give you the time of day now. Probably thinks you're a stuck-up hypocrite."

  She coughed in indignation and disappointment. "I wasn't thinking—"

  "No kidding."

  "But, maybe—"

  "Don't bother, you've already blown it with him. Next time, think before you act."

  "Isn't that what I did?"

  "Sure, but you didn't think about it from the hotwife perspective; you looked at it from your old view."

  Tina sighed heavily and drained her glass in defeat.

  CHAPTER 4

  Tina adjusted the straps on her one-piece swimsuit. Their townhouse association maintained an enormous pool and Gerald liked to go for swims occasionally.

  Her husband's tone was exasperated. "Quit fidgeting, you look fine."

  "I just want to make sure I'm covered."

  His tone turned dry with a light touch of sour. "Yeah, I know."

  Why does he seem so happy with me and so disappointed at the same time? She wrapped a beach towel around her waist.

  He said, "You know, I saw online that women in the Middle East swim in burqhas."

  "I'm not muslim."

  The doorbell interrupted their conversation.

  He said, "Would you get that, please?"

  She coughed. "I'm in a bathing suit."

  "And wrapped in a towel. Meanwhile, I'm naked." He wriggled his hips, sending his penis swinging. "Think I should answer the door like this?"

  She coughed again. "Fine."

  "I will if you think I should—"

  "I'll get it." She twisted her mouth as she left the room.

  It was Fed-Ex, needing a signature.

  She took the handheld device from a strikingly gorgeous young man. Blue eyes, chiseled face, and blonde hair – even if he was a little on the short side.

  "Sign right there," he said, all business and rush.

  Her breathing quickened and she signed slowly. The signature pad on his electronic device didn't want to register her pressing. She passed it back.

  "Last name?" he said.

  "Rina."

  He was writing, not looking at her.

  I'm wearing a bikini; take a look.

  He pressed a few buttons on the device and then handed her the cardboard envelope. "There you go. Have a nice day." He was already turning and moving.

&
nbsp; "Thanks," she said weakly. Come back and talk to me. You're cute. She watched him walk quickly to his truck, turning only once to look back at her.

  She went to wave but he snapped his head back around and didn't look back after that. That was lousy. Why didn't he say something? She looked down as she shut the door. I guess a towel isn't exciting to look at and bare shoulders? See them all day.

  She unwrapped the towel and slung it over her shoulder. She walked into the bedroom and handed her husband the envelope. "It's for you."

  He frowned. "You answer the door like that?"

  "No, I was all wrapped up."

  He grunted. "This is the signature sheet for Scott Trade."

  "Ah." She nodded. He was opening a trading account to buy stocks. "Are you ready? Or do you want to fill that out?"

  "Nah, let's go. I'm itching for a good swim."

  ~ ~ ~

  The association's pool was well kept and well-used. As there was no lifeguard on duty, the pool was required to be surrounded by a locked gate. Warning signs were plastered all over it. No glass, no skateboards, no alcohol, no dogs, no kids under seventeen without supervision, no pool-use after 9pm.

  Inside was a large pool - not Olympic sized, but large - surrounded by several umbrella-tables and pool chairs. People were scattered all over the place, as if a crowd had just descended at a garage sale.

  Tina scrunched her mouth. "Great. There's Valerie and Connor. Can we sit on the other side?"

  Gerald said graciously, "Sure."

  Valerie and Connor were the typical upscale couple. She was blonde and big-titted and let Tina know that she had more up top constantly. Her arrogance was astronomical. Connor was quiet and intelligent, sporting an athletic figure that whispered of hours spent with weights at the gym. He showed it off, though he didn't display the arrogance his wife did.

  Tina settled with Gerald onto two pool lounges. She unslung her towel down onto it and sat. Her husband set down the duffel and pulled out two bottles of water, in plastic. He left the bag open and slid it under her lounge.

  He said, "Remember to—"

  "I know." She took the bottle. Left in the sun, the plastic leeched toxic chemicals into the water. The plastic was leeching chemicals into the water at all times, anyway, but far worse when exposed to heat. This was the only time they used plastic. If they wanted water, that is.