“So are you enjoying Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment?”
“It was marvelous. I finished it this morning after I left your place.”
“You finished that nearly 600-page book in a day?”
“I process words very quickly. The main character, Rodin Raskolnikov, reminded me of you.”
“No, he didn’t. I don’t even know where you come off making such a statement.” I was angry. She was comparing me to a student who kills a pawnbroker because he thinks the world would be better off without such an evil person.
“Maybe if you read my notes you would better understand the similarities.”
“I don’t need to read your stupid notes to know that you’re totally off the mark.”
“Why so defensive, Joe?”
“I’m not being defensive. Just don’t insult my intelligence by telling me that a character who commits murder reminds you of me.”
“The murder was a symbolic stimulus to push the story forward. It was more about the undercover exploration of the Russian psyche and how the environment and culture affect the Russian people.”
“Great! Why don’t you go ahead and write a thesis on the book? Just don’t bother giving me a copy.”
“I thought you would appreciate an intelligent conversation about one of the greatest novels ever written.”
“Yes, an intelligent conversation, not a critique of me and the work I do.”
“Sorry you feel that way.” She half-apologetically looked at me over the menu.
“I must ask, do you drive?”
“I have a driver’s license, but no car. I crashed my car into a fire hydrant, which was the end of both the car and the hydrant. I just thank God no one got hurt.”
“How did you accomplish that feat? Jotting down a few notes instead of paying attention to the road?”
“Glanced down at a book I was reading and got caught up in the narrative. It was late at night. I still have to pay for the hydrant; I destroyed city property.”
“Does that make you feel stupid, or were you able to rationalize it and blame it all on the stationary object that got in your way?”
“I don’t need to rationalize. It was plainly my fault.”
“Wow! That must have been really hard for you to admit — taking responsibility for an unwise act.”
“No, you’re wrong. Admitting I’m jealous of that dimwit Maggie is hard, not crashing into a fire hydrant.”
“She’s really under your skin. You call her a dimwit but from where I’m standing you’re the loser. And by the way, she doesn’t think very highly of you either.”
“Does it make you feel powerful that two women are vying for your attention?”
“No, because there aren’t two women vying for my attention. That competition is taking place solely in your deductive-hallucinogenic mind.”
Nancy picked up a piece of a baguette and lightly buttered it. She bit off tiny pieces and chewed slowly, watching me like a superior being studying a less-evolved creature.
“What? A little tongue-tied?”
“Is that what you think, Joe? That a few insults thrown my way could so easily faze me?”
“No, I’m not that stupid. You only show your vulnerabilities when you have the security of a little shell to crawl into.”
“I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.”
“Sure you do, Nancy. A superior creature like you can figure out anything. Just apply a little deductive reasoning to the riddle.”
“Why are you behaving like an asshole?”
I picked up my glass of wine and took a sip. “You’re right, the wine is lovely, and if I am behaving like an asshole, it’s in response to your elitist attitude and unfounded comments.”
“I am going to order the boeuf bourguignon.”
“Funny, an elitist ordering a stew.”
“I’m not going to argue with you, Joe.” She continued eating tiny pieces of the bread, sipping her wine, and staring at me with untold curiosity.
“Is there something you see in my face that I’ve missed all these years of looking into mirrors?”
“No. You just have a nice face and despite your irascible attitude at the moment, I know you are nothing like that.”
I also ordered the boeuf bourguignon and another bottle of wine.
The meal was delicious, and after three bottles of wine all my bravado had dissipated. All I could think about was burying my head between Nancy’s breasts. I was quite sure she knew exactly what I was contemplating and as if to send the point smashing home, she unbuttoned the top button on her shirt. She ordered crème brulée for dessert then slowly and deliberately picked at it.
“You know, if you had been a little nicer earlier, I had planned a wonderful dessert when we got home.”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re a real bitch?”
“Not to my face, but I’m sure plenty of people have said it behind my back.”
I ordered a double espresso and a Sandeman Founder’s Reserve port.
“You know, Joe, caffeine won’t sober you up. It might make you a little more alert, but that’s it.”
“Thanks for that useful piece of information.”
I felt her foot working its way up my leg under the table and coming to an abrupt stop at my crotch.
“I see you’re thinking about ordering something off the menu.”
“Nothing that concerns you.”
“You know, it’s about five hours since you spoke to Maggie. I’m sure she’s ready and willing to go by now. She did say in a few hours?”
“She’s definitely a better option than you.”
Nancy moved forward just enough to give me a clear view of her breasts.
“Do you really mean that, Joe? Or are you just talking trash?”
The waiter placed the espresso and port down. “You might want to bring her the same,” I said to the waiter.
“Decaffeinated, please, and a double port. I’m about as alert as I need to be right now.”
“Why not call Maggie? I’m all in for a threesome,” Nancy offered.
“It would be a shame to even mention such a thing to Maggie. Besides, I would feel guilty about spending all my time with Maggie and having you feel unwanted.”
“Oh, that’s thoughtful, Joe, but don’t you worry. I’m fairly sure your precious Maggie is more than capable of satisfying me in ways you couldn’t imagine. In many ways, once Maggie and I get started on each other you’d probably be nothing more than an afterthought.”
“You really are one pompous, self-serving little minx. What college did you graduate from, USC?”
“No, MIT. Massachusetts Institute of Technology.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I told you, I don’t lie.” Nancy reached into her purse and pulled out a student ID card from MIT with her picture on it. She handed it to me and I looked at it carefully. “When did you graduate?”
“Five years ago, at the tender age of nineteen. To be fair, I started a year early, at seventeen.”
“You graduated one of the most prestigious universities in the country in two years?”
“Two and a half. I process information very quickly.” She reached back into her purse and took out another student ID from Stanford University. “I did my post-graduate studies at Stanford.” I looked at the Stanford ID, shook my head, and handed both cards back to her.
“Why are you doing makeup? You could be teaching and doing research at any university or laboratory in the world. You could be working for the government and making a fortune.”
“I’m exactly where I want to be.”
“Making talentless shitheads look pretty.”
“Working with chemicals.”
The waiter brought Nancy’s drinks as I tried to understand this beautiful, apparently brilliant, befuddling woman in front of me. She had suddenly turned into a giant brain with big blue eyes and voluptuous breasts. I thought about reaching over and touching h
er, but I instead asked for the check. I paid, had the waiter call us a cab, and back to my house we went. I was tired and couldn’t quite figure out how I’d gotten so drunk. Nancy, who drank just as much, seemed perfectly fine, or as normal as one could expect from a lunatic. I started to suspect that she had drugged me and was waiting for me to pass out so she could experiment on my far less-superior brain.
I told her I was going to the bathroom but instead went into my bedroom and locked the door, as if that would keep her out. I thought about putting a chair up against the lock of the door, but before I could do that, I fell down flat on my bed and fell asleep.
I woke up about six hours later and the door to my room was open. The sound of Duke Ellington came from the living room and all my clothes were still on. My brain felt fried but I was pretty sure that was from the booze. I stumbled into the living room and looked at Nancy’s bare ass. She was lying on the couch, dressed in one of my Armani sport coats, reading Dostoevsky’s Brothers Karamazov — a brief, 850-page masterpiece from the Russian genius. I gently touched her bare ass and she slowly turned around as though she’d been expecting me.
“Feeling better, sleepyhead?”
“Not really.” I sat down on the couch. She sat up and put my head in her lap. She ran her hand through my hair, and I couldn’t find the courage to ask her what happened. Instead I asked, “How do you like the book?”
“Great, but not as brilliant as Crime and Punishment. He could have easily cut a hundred pages. The part about the priest’s decaying body was chilling. What do you think it meant?”
“I think it was a reminder that human beings, regardless of how brilliant, compassionate, and loving they are, are still not God. Like all people, our bodies will decay after death. Despite all the accolades and reverence people might have for the deceased, we aren’t coming back to this life and we rule over nothing here.”
“That’s how I analyzed it, too. Thank you for introducing me to such a great writer.”
She continued to run her hands through my hair and even though my head ached terribly, it felt soothing.
“Did your mommy have thick and beautiful hair like you?”
“Yes, and my father, too.”
“They must have been a very attractive couple to produce such a handsome son.”
“I think so.”
“And did they love each other?”
“They adored each other. Why would you ask such a question?”
“Just curious, that’s all. It’s too bad they didn’t have more children.”
“I’m sure they wanted to but couldn’t.”
“You would have made a wonderful big brother. You protect the people you love, don’t you, Joe?”
I rearranged my head on her lap and looked up at her. Her overwhelming beauty never failed to amaze me, and her level of concentration was equally breathtaking. It was as though she had some superpower that allowed her to see right through to the atoms and molecules that make up our existence. She lowered her gaze and looked down into my eyes. I couldn’t read her.
“What are you thinking about, Nancy?”
“It’s not important.”
“It is to me.” She laughed and shrugged off the question. “Are you going to be here when I wake up?” I asked.
“Probably not.”
“But you’ll be back in the morning?”
“Probably not. I have a lot of work to get done.”
“You can do it here. I won’t disturb you.”
“Is this your way of saying you’re going to miss me?”
“Yes.”
Nancy looked up as she continued to run her hands through my hair. I closed my eyes to the sound of her soft breathing, which seemed to drown out all other noises. When I woke up hours later, she was gone.
She didn’t come back or call that day. I couldn’t call her because I didn’t have her home phone number. I was tempted to call the cab company and ask where they dropped her off, but decided against it. I walked to the French restaurant and picked up my car.
The rest of the day I relaxed and polished the presentation I was going to give to the Japanese auto executives the next day.
Chapter Nine
Maggie was already at her desk when I got to work. She had this unnatural glow about her and her eyes were glassy and glazed over. I didn’t smell anything to make me suspect she’d been smoking marijuana, but she was wearing this unusual perfume that led me to her like a teenage boy visiting a French brothel.
I shook the urge off. It wasn’t easy, but a flashback to her face in a bowl of lasagna helped alleviate it.
“Jack wants his book back,” she said to me in the most condescending tone. “You know, the album with all the hookers.”
“How do you know about that?”
“The janitor told me. I never would’ve suspected you were into that.”
“I’m not.”
“Of course not,” she said unconvincingly as I handed her the portfolio with the drawings and slogans we were going to use during the presentation. She put it aside as though it was of no importance.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m wonderful.” She attempted a weak smile.
“Are you high?” I asked as she turned her back to me.
“Just a little taken aback by the book.”
I turned her chair around to face me and held on to its arms. “The book is none of your concern, and I find it highly insulting that you would think I would be sharing women with Jack.”
“Whatever …”
“Seriously, Maggie, you’re calling me a liar?”
“It’s what we do around here. Isn’t that what you always say?”
“But not between us. We’ve always been truthful with each other.”
“I guess …“
She tried to turn the chair around again, but I held on tight. “What the hell is going on with you lately? Are you wearing a new perfume?”
“Do you like it?“
“What’s not to like? What are you trying to do, start your own harem?”
“Only you.”
“You can do better than me.” I let go of her chair and stepped back.
“Why don’t you let me decide what’s best for me?” She winked. Why was Maggie acting like this now when we’d agreed we didn’t want to go down that road together? Other than a few crazy times early on, we’d kept it professional. That’s probably the only reason we were able to remain such good friends and work together so well. It’s the reason Jack selected his rotating partners from a photo album of strangers. Sex complicates otherwise healthy relationships.
I decided to shift the focus to work. “Would you please look at the portfolio? The presentation is at two this afternoon.”
“I know, Joe. I have it written down. We have plenty of time.”
I walked into my office and grabbed Jack’s book. I wasn’t sure what was going on with Maggie, but whatever it was, it was working. It was like she had hooked me and was getting ready to reel me in. All of her glances and gestures were suggestive. It had been a long time since we’d been intimate. I tried to ignore this new energy she was giving off, but it was powerful. And that perfume … I tried to shake the feeling, but it took effort.
I averted my eyes when walking past her on my way to Jack’s office. She didn’t make it easy. “What a disgusting pig our fearless leader is,” she commented. Quickly glancing at her, I continued on my mission.
I knocked on Jack’s door but there was no answer. I could hear movement in the office, so I turned the knob but the door was locked. A second later, Jack opened the door slightly and stuck his head out.
“Joe, what is it?” he asked in a hushed voice. I handed him the book.
“The Japanese executives are here for a presentation at two o’clock.”
“You have it under control?”
“Yeah!”
“Great! I’ll provide the entertainment.”
He closed the door and from inside th
e office I could hear a female Russian voice say, “Come here my little Любовник.” From the sexy tone of her voice, I didn’t need a translator to tell me what was going on inside.
I walked toward my office and stopped at Maggie’s desk. She was looking over the portfolio. “What do you think?” I asked. She looked up at me and didn’t say a word. After a few uncomfortable moments of silence, I walked into my office. She followed me, locked the door, and flung the portfolio off to the side. “I guess you didn’t like it,” I said.
Maggie closed all the blinds on the office windows. “Shut up, Joe, and sit down.” This was a demand, as she literally forced me into my desk chair. Before I could say anything she had slipped all her clothes off, except for her bra and panties, and sat on my lap. It was futile for me even to try to resist, especially since my anatomy was already saying Yes.
“You know this could get us fired, right? Against company policy.”
She laughed as she undid my belt and opened my pants.
“Protection?” I asked.
“Don’t be silly, I’ve been planning this all weekend.” She took total control, and I submitted without any further struggle.
After it was over, I lay on the floor with my head against the couch. I struggled to get my underwear on as Maggie lay naked on the sofa above me.
“You’ve gone to school since the last time we had sex.”
“You complaining?”
“No, a few of those positions I never knew existed.”
“You know, Joe, I feel so relaxed right now. It would be a great idea if employees were allowed to fuck at work. Just think how much more relaxed and content the staff would be.”
“Maybe you should bring that up at the next staff meeting.”
She laughed as she sat up and wrapped her long legs around my neck. “You didn’t think we were finished?”
Once again, my other brain was doing the speaking for me. Maggie lowered her head and started kissing me.
A half hour later, I was back in the same position on the floor with my head against the couch. I was physically exhausted. Maggie lay resting on the couch, still naked. Apparently, sex really did relax her. When I told her we needed to get dressed before people got suspicious, she just laughed. I struggled to get my clothes back on while Maggie didn’t move.
Targeted Demographics Page 5