Dr. Fellatio

by Author Stella

  In nothing more than a pair of ratty boxers and a DigiTech T-shirt I should have tossed out years ago, I waltzed out the door with only my keys and cell phone. I didn’t have anywhere to go, and while we didn’t live in a rough part of town, no woman should wander the streets alone in Atlanta after dark. I hadn’t planned to call the man who spurred the madness, but my fingers dialed his number as naturally as they had five years ago. He didn’t hesitate to come rescue me from the madness, then spend two hours talking about nothing in the parking lot of my apartment complex before I retreated upstairs after two of the three little pigs went home.

  “We’ve got two solid mock-ups. We all agree none of the others are worth submitting, but the proposal requires three. Anyone have any new ideas?” Kyle, the lead ad representative for Team F, spoke to the group.

  Silence followed. Long stretches of silence.

  “Guys, come on. This is one of the largest opportunities our team has seen. If we don’t land this account, heads are gonna roll. Anyone have anything? It doesn’t matter if you think it’s stupid, someone else might be able to turn it into brilliance. Throw it out there.”

  I looked around the room from where I sat in the corner. I’d seen the things they had generated—everyone at the table was incredibly talented, even if one of them was unusually grumpy. Men shouldn’t have any problem generating ideas on what would sell men’s clothing. It seemed pretty simple to me, but I didn’t have a place at the table and doubted anything I had to offer would be welcomed.

  Kyle slammed his hand on the wood. “Seriously? What the hell are we doing here? Without a concept today, the project gets moved to another team. Meaning even if one of our concepts are chosen, they’ll get paid for all the work we’ve put in. The bonus on this is huge. I’m not willing to walk away from it.”

  “I don’t hear you tossing out any suggestions,” Brad muttered. The morale was the lowest I’d seen it in all the meetings I’d attended, and Brad had an ax to grind. There was no indication of what caused the sudden animosity between him and Kyle, but it was definitely there.

  My eyebrows rose in surprise. These five men worked together like their brains were connected. When one put one piece of the puzzle in place, the others followed behind to create the full picture flawlessly. But Brad walked a fine line of insubordination, and I hoped I didn’t witness his explosion.

  “I think you’re approaching this from the wrong perspective.” I shouldn’t have said anything. I wasn’t supposed to talk. My job at this juncture was to sit in the corner and observe, not interfere. Not one time since I’d joined the meetings had any of these guys looked in my direction, much less asked for my opinion.

  “Excuse me?” Kyle’s attention snapped to my corner of the room, diverting it from Brad who was about to get his ass chewed.

  He stared at me with disbelief that honed into anger—or hell, maybe hate. If he could’ve shot lasers from his eyes, I would have evaporated on the spot.

  “Nothing, I’m sorry.”

  “Do you have an idea?”

  Between the issues with Candi and Jasmine, my thoughts never straying far from Chris, and now this, my confidence was a tad shaken and my mind not nearly as focused as it should be. I wasn’t in the best state.

  He raised his brows, silently telling me he was waiting and to either speak up or shut up. I swallowed hard and glanced around the room. I didn’t have anything to lose. They didn’t have any ideas, so if mine sucked, they hadn’t lost anything other than a few minutes of their time.

  “Who’s your target market?” This had already been established, but I wanted everyone to hear it again to illustrate my point.

  Kyle closed his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “We’ve been over this. And you were here. Were you not paying attention?”

  Clenching my jaw, I counted to ten before responding. “Humor me.”

  “Men, ages thirty to forty-five…primarily.” Kyle’s patience with me waned.

  “No, that’s who will be wearing them.”

  “What’s your point, Crestenowich?”

  I wanted to slap the taste out of his mouth. If he was going to be a smartass, at the very least, he could get my name right. But I bit my tongue.

  “Okay, so you guys are all in that age range. Do you buy your own clothes?”

  Five sets of eyes focused on me hunkered down in the corner of the conference room. Five sets of blank stares. Five men clearly didn’t get where I was going with this.

  “Kyle, when was the last time you shopped for clothes?” I asked.

  “I don’t. My wife buys them.”

  “Precisely. Your buyer isn’t the man who will wear the clothing line. It’s the women who dress their husbands. Those are the people you need to appeal to. Not men who couldn’t care less what’s on their body.”

  Kyle’s hardened eyes softened with intrigue. “I like it. Where are you going with it?”

  “Let’s be honest, men hate to shop, and women hate shopping with them. But every woman wants their spouse or significant other to dress well without the hassle of dealing with him in a dressing room or department store. There’s nothing wrong with the line—it’s actually perfect for the average man—but it’s hard to visualize how the look translates to the man she’s sleeping next to without enduring the hell of dragging him to the mall. And guys, you’re killing our sanctuary.”

  They’d all turned their chairs to face me in the corner.

  “As the primary shopper, your spouses are left with two options: listen to you complain, or see something on a hanger or in an ad and pray it looks as good on you as it does Brad Pitt. But most men aren’t Tom Cruise or Justin Timberlake. So regardless of what she picks, they aren’t going to look like the model in photographs. But this entire line is made of this crazy material no one has focused on. Whatever that fabric is designed to do, we have to find a way to make it appeal to the women who would purchase them. I’d pay a hell of a lot more money for slacks that made my husband’s ass look amazing but also doubled as something he could do yard work in without ruining them. It appeals to my sensual side, it appeals to my honey-do list, and it appeals to my wallet. Not to mention, I’ve just lightened my laundry load by not having to wash two sets of clothes—business and casual.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “So what are they designed to do?”

  “It’s an industrial-quality fabric tied to high-end fashion—lightweight and breathable.”

  I snorted. It was unladylike, but I couldn’t help myself. “Appealing to the women who purchase them is only one part of selling this line. We need to eliminate their need to have their men with them during the selection and buying process.”

  “Any clue how to do that?”

  “Develop an interactive software for their website that allows anyone—female or the occasional male—to upload an image to style him online. Their entire line could be available in the online dressing room, the buyer could enter sizes, and the software would then assemble the pieces on her husband while she watched Keeping up with the Kardashians from the comfort of her couch in her jammies. When she’s done, she checks out just like any other online store.”

  “It beefs up their online presence, leaves their store open online twenty-four hours a day, and saves them money by not having personnel in brick-and-mortar stores which are dying anyhow. Could we add a way for the company to add to the line?” Kyle had taken my bait—now I just had to hook him.

  “Realistically, the software could be customized for any number of things depending on how far they wanted to take it. Gift wrapping, monthly themes, birthdays—it could be one of those fashion boxes for men but instead of a personal stylist you’ve never met, your wife picks out everything that goes in the box, and it’s delivered to your door with a tool. Guys get off on that kind of crap, right? I don’t know. The sky’s the limit. If we offer the software, we can make it do whatever we want.”

  “Look, Alex, I think it’s a great idea. And I agre
e my wife would much rather surf from our couch than ever take me to a department store, but it’s Thursday.” Brad glanced at his watch. “And it’s late. There’s no way an idea of this magnitude can be pulled together by ten o’clock Tuesday morning when we have to give our pitch.” He scoffed and turned back to the group. “Could we get back to something serious? I don’t want to be here all night.”

  “I can get a demo by Monday morning. It won’t have all the bells and whistles, but I know a guy who can do it.” I had stepped out on a limb and prayed I hadn’t just offered up Chris’s services only to have him shoot me down.

  “Either he owes you big, or that’s one tight pussy.” Brad had overstepped, and Kyle knew it.

  I drew my lip into my mouth and chewed on it, but I didn’t respond. Not once in my career had someone ever talked to me like that, but acknowledging it would only serve to drive the issue, not solve our problem. I’d thrown out my idea and told the team I could get it done. It was up to Kyle to move forward or start over.

  “Brad, my office.” Kyle’s chest heaved.

  If I hadn’t known he was pissed, I’d think he was on the verge of a heart attack.

  “The rest of you stay here.”

  The second the two of them were out of the room, the other three guys glanced my way with looks akin to sympathy and embarrassment, but they didn’t say anything. They didn’t have to. They were as uncomfortable as I was; however, Brad didn’t have the power to take me down unless I let him. This was my shot, and I wasn’t giving it up without a fight.

  Twenty minutes later, Kyle returned minus Brad. “Brad went home for the evening. We’ve got work to do if Alex is going to get a demo done by Monday morning.”

  No one else had to verbalize their enthusiasm. Each of the remaining team members pulled out their iPads, and we went to work using the pictures we took of the clothing we had at our disposal to create ideas for me to take to Chris.

  Each of the guys called their wives in to help us with key features they would look for in an online style program, and Kyle’s wife brought dinner. The nine of us rattled off our thoughts while we ate. For the first time in years, being single left me feeling like I didn’t belong or that I missed something in my life. Seeing these women interact with their husbands—and each other—exposed the void created by not having a man in my life. Not just any man; the man—Chris. And I wondered if that space in my life would ever be filled.

  No matter how badly I wanted to reach out to him, I couldn’t. He was probably already home, and I couldn’t ask him to come in and help without throwing up a red flag to the entire team that he and I had some sort of history—even if I wasn’t sure of where we were in the present. Although, if I waited until the morning to approach him with this opportunity, he’d have less than seventy-two hours to write a program professional enough to serve as our pitch demo. I didn’t know what I’d do if he said no. If he refused to help, I’d just sunk my ship at Seneca Marketing—the entire team had put their faith in my ability to deliver.

  After the wives gave us their input and we said goodbye to them, I turned to gather my things so the team could get started. And while they worked, I could devise a fail-proof plan to get Chris on board.

  “Everyone ready for a long night?” Kyle’s spirits had changed drastically since we’d entered the room.

  I tried to sneak out after tossing away the trash and cleaning up. I’d offered all I had of value.

  “Criterowitsky, where are you going?” Kyle’s question caught me off guard.

  “I’m going to get out of your hair.”

  “Sit down, Alex. Your idea, you see it through.” His smile was genuine, and so was his command to stay.

  I rejoined the guys and dove into one of the best nights of my life. It was the first time since I’d taken the job that I belonged to a part of something that made me feel valued. We all fed each other, and every tweak that crossed the design only improved my original idea. This was what I’d wanted to do. I’d found a way to incorporate what I’d learned about men and women as Dr. Fellatio, what I’d gone to school for and my love of fashion, and every bit of it came together in what I thought was brilliance at four o’clock in the morning.

  “Nice job, Alex. Of the three mocks, this is by far the strongest and most unique—if you can deliver.”

  Kyle’s words danced in my head until long after I got home. I wanted to enjoy the compliment but knew my success depended on Chris, and I didn’t have any right to ask him for such a monumental favor. And even though I had to be back in at eight, I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. The adrenaline high I’d been on for hours overrode the anxiety of asking Chris for a favor and him possibly telling me no.

  12

  Chris

  Alexia: Hey, do you have a minute?

  Things between us shifted on the rooftop—her defenses weakened. There’d been texts and casual conversation here and there, and the two hours I’d spent in the parking lot of her apartment complex convincing her that Jasmine, Candi, and Carl had nothing other than her best interest at heart, but with her current workload, anything else had been sparse. It also gave her an excuse to take whatever we were doing at her own pace. She’d never been quick to rush into things, and this was no different.

  Patrick: Depends…who needs a minute of my time?

  Alexia: Me.

  Patrick: In that case, I have an infinite number of minutes. What do you need?

  Alexia: It’s something I need to discuss in person.

  This would either be good or bad. I hoped for the first and prepared for the last.

  Patrick: In person like over dinner and drinks? Possibly a candle between us? Some soft music in the background? Or do you mean in my office?

  Alexia: LOL. I’ll be up in a sec.

  According to the clock on my computer, it had taken her three minutes to get to my office, but that had to be wrong. It felt more like three hours. There was something about Lexi that distorted time. When I was with her, it flew by too fast. When we were apart, each second dragged on for an eternity.

  “You look nervous.” I stood when she walked in and then motioned for the chair across from me. “Should I be worried?” I’d take every ounce of trepidation from her if she’d give it to me.

  Her smile was hesitant, but at least there were no tears. “No. I’m the one who’s scared.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I have a massive favor to ask you, and there’s a good chance you’ll say no. And I really need you to say yes.”

  After resuming my seat, I leaned forward with my hands folded on the top of the desk. Lexi never rambled when she was insecure. “I don’t think you ever have to be concerned about that. When it comes to you, I don’t think ‘no’ is in my vocabulary. Do you not remember when you wanted to adopt that cat?”

  She giggled under her breath, as if she didn’t want to laugh but couldn’t fight it. “I felt so bad for it. Poor thing didn’t have a tail and could only open one eye all the way. No one wanted it.”

  “Yeah, you kept saying it just needed love.”

  She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “It needed so much more than that. Like a tranquilizer and muzzle.” Her wide grin softened as she regarded me, the memory clearly playing out in her head. Her features relaxed with the memory, and her cheeks warmed with color.

  “I could’ve told you that before you took him home. In fact, I believe I had mentioned something similar, but you wanted him…”

  “Yeah, well…” She turned her attention to the binder in her hand and the paper shopping bag next to her seat. “This is slightly different. Do you remember me telling you how Martin put me on the ad team? Well, I helped them come up with a concept last night at the meeting. They had two, but the bid requires three, and no one could think of anything good enough. So I kind of offered an out-of-the-box concept, but in order to do it, we need your help.”

  “My help?” This would be interesting. I was a computer guy; I knew not
hing about advertising. But if Lexi could learn statistics, I’d figure out whatever I had to in order to start tying our hearts back together.

  “Technically, anyone with software experience would be able to do it, but we need it by Monday, and I don’t know anyone else with the skillset.” She watched me hesitantly before continuing. “It’s like a virtual dressing room. A program that consumers can use to upload photos of themselves or their significant others and try on clothes before buying.”

  “I’m confused…how is this a print ad?”

  “It’s not. But don’t worry about that. I just need to know if you’re willing to develop the program.”

  “By Monday?” There was a difference between not wanting to do something and it being physically impossible.

  “Just the mock. We only need enough to show the client how it would work on a larger scale, so when the concept is presented, the team can run through the whole pitch.”

  “Lex, I’m not a software programmer.”

  “But you know how to. You used to do it all the time in college.”

  “For fun,” I argued. Designing crap video games no one ever played hardly compared to needing a professional program to land a multimillion-dollar ad campaign.

  “Just think of this the same way.” She batted her eyes. “Please, Chris. The entire concept depends on this…and so does my future on the team.”

  I huffed, and with that single action, she knew she’d won. “I can’t make any promises. But show me what you’ve got, and I’ll see what I can do. Just know, I can’t do any of this here. My laptop is at home, so I can start it after five today and work on it over the weekend.”

  Her grin brightened her eyes, colored her cheeks, and warmed my heart.

  The door was hard, and knocking hurt my knuckles. I stood with the pizza box in my hand, and the bottom seared my palm with heat while I waited outside. Jasmine had stopped me on my way out of the office and gave me advice I couldn’t ignore. Although now, I wondered if showing up unannounced was such a good idea. Lexi had removed a few bricks from the wall around her heart, but she hadn’t demolished it with a wrecking ball.