Under My Skin

by A. E. Dooland

  It made my heart race. “Henry, I really don’t want to know.”

  Noting my expression, he nodded, then leant over me to place my phone on the coffee table. “Okay,” he said. “But can I just say that there’s a whole heap of women who’d step in for me if I bailed.” He winced, thinking about it. “And I know this is really problematic on a number of levels, but that’s actually a turn on.”

  “Imagining me with other people is a turn on?”

  He shrugged. “I told you it was problematic. You want some champagne? Maybe that will make you feel better.”

  I made a face. “Nah, I haven’t eaten anything.” I was still thinking about what he’d said. “Did all those girls really say I looked good? Because on top of looking like the grumpiest person on the planet, that photo shows what an enormous giant I am.”

  He had such a warm smile. “Min,” he said gently. “I like that about you. It’s great to be able to actually feel I have my arms around another whole person, and I can’t be the only one that feels that way.”

  I breathed out, watching my chest fall. I was hopeless. “It sucks that no matter how many times you tell me this stuff, I just can’t believe it.”

  There was so much affection in his eyes as he nodded. “Okay,” he said simply. “Then let me show you.”

  That was a really sweet, romantic thing to say, and I should have been completely touched and jumped lovingly into his arms, but instead, my heart sank. Of course this is where it was heading.

  Even before he’d leant his torso down over me and put his lips against mine, I knew what was going to happen next. He had his eyes closed when he kissed me, too, which meant that he didn’t notice when I jammed mine shut for a second. Fuck, and he was just so goddamn wonderful that I couldn’t say I didn’t really feel like it now, could I? Not when he’d been so nice. It had been a couple of weeks, too, so it was probably about time I let him do it again.

  He slipped a hand under my pyjama top. I wasn’t wearing a bra because I really didn’t need to at home, and that meant he was able to take the little that was actually there into his hands. A sound escaped from the back of his throat as he slipped one crisply suited knee between my two bare ones.

  I stared up at the light fixture above my head while he kissed down my neck. Come on, Min, it’s going to be like fifteen minutes, tops. Quicker than doing the ironing. Quicker than doing my makeup, even. I should really have been counting my lucky stars that I’d landed an attractive, rich, wonderful boyfriend completely unlike the other idiots I worked with. He even cooked. Having sex with him was the very least I could do. Really, it wasn’t his fault he’d picked a frigid girlfriend who had weird body image issues. I shouldn’t turn those things his problem when they were obviously my own.

  When he started unbuttoning my pyjamas, I realised I had just been stiffly lying there, and I only noticed because he leant away from me with a look of genuine concern on his face. “Min,” he said, “you’re not up for this, are you? Because it’s fine if you’re not, I’m happy to stop.”

  Looking down between us, I could already see how hard he was through his suit pants. Man, this just wasn’t fair on him. I really should put in more effort. Rather than answer his question, I pulled him down into a firm kiss.

  He leant heavily into me and I could feel his erection dig into my thigh. I slipped a hand between us to find a more comfortable position for it, and he exhaled forcefully when I touched it over the fabric.

  “See?” he murmured in my ear as we continued, “you’re gorgeous.”

  It would have been over much sooner than I’d anticipated, but Henry insisted on making sure I came first, so I had to put on a really convincing act about being into it. The whole thing took more effort than I had expected.

  When we were done, he always insisted on kissing for a bit. We were both a bit sweaty and it was kind of gross, but I exhaled exaggeratedly for his benefit and pretended to enjoy it. “Thanks,” I lied, feeling guilty even before I’d said it, “I needed that.”

  He’d put his head on my chest, and the beginnings of stubble scratched me as he smiled. “You’re welcome,” he said breathlessly. “Do you mind if I have the first shower?”

  “Go for it. I had one before.”

  He pushed up, grabbed his clothes and then swaggered off into the bathroom. I just sat there for a minute after pulling my pyjamas back on. Well, at least that was done, now we’d go a couple of weeks without him asking for it again. I was due around then, too, so maybe even a bit longer.

  My stomach grumbled, so I got up to explore what food Henry had bought us: boxes of noodles from that Hokkien place around the corner. I couldn’t be bothered washing dishes—although to be honest, Henry would probably do them, but I didn’t want that either—so I just grabbed a fork out of the drawer and took a whole box out onto the balcony.

  In these frilly pyjamas and with all my makeup on, my reflection looked quite different than the one I’d painted the night before. I watched it as I ate a few mouthfuls of food. I didn’t like how it looked, of course, but Henry obviously did. I just didn’t understand that at all, and I wondered if he’d been lying about all those girls saying nice things about me. I wouldn’t put it past him to be that nice...

  Once that thought came into my mind, it was difficult to dislodge. Nothing was going to settle this except actually reading the comments, so I abandoned my dinner on the outdoor setting and went inside to get my phone. I didn’t open the notifications straight away, though. I had to spend a few seconds psyching myself up in case he had been lying and they did say awful things.

  When I finally opened it, it only took me one glance to realise that he’d actually been telling the truth.

  I scrolled through the comments. They ranged from, ‘Oooh you look so fierce! I love it!’, and ‘I like this one too’ to ‘OMG you’re so tall!! I’m jealous!!’ and ‘Yup, I’d still hit that, although it looks like it might hit me back’. There wasn’t a single nasty one. And, judging by the usernames, most of them were from women. That felt a little strange because I was so used to women being really judgmental of each other. It was also strange because many of them were clearly hitting on me, which must have been what Henry was referring to earlier. I took a second to try and imagine what being with a woman would be like. Women were usually a lot smaller than me, so being the tall one and being a woman didn’t sit right. Also, the only women I could think of right then were Diane and Sarah, and both of them were just… no.

  Alongside the comments there were a couple of private notes as well, so I opened my inbox and selected one. It was from one of my regulars. ‘omg ur a girl??????’ I counted them, six question marks. ‘wow okay this is a bit of a surprise!! ur still gorgeous tho! *^w^*’ That particular one was from the girl who’d been having friend trouble yesterday.

  Whoops, she messaged me quite regularly and had thought I was a guy the whole time? Even though she seemed pretty fine with it, I felt bad for her and typed a quick reply, ‘Now that you know my secret, I’m going to have to kill you’. I sent it before I realised that my sense of humour might actually not come across that well on the internet. Rather than risk having the police called on me, I quickly typed another one. ‘Kidding. And thanks’.

  Taking my phone with me, I returned to my food. While I sat down and fished out all the baby prawns from the noodles, I reread the messages. It was pathetic how good it felt reading them, even though I couldn’t figure out what they saw in me.

  Henry came outside while I still had my phone out. “Plucked up the courage to read them?” he asked, kissing the top of my head as he sat down next to me with his own noodle box.

  I nodded, swallowing my mouthful. “I’ve decided I’m going to leave you for this one,” I said, and showed him the screen so he could read the comment.

  He held my wrist to steady as he read aloud. “’If you’re married, leave him. I’m richer’.” He laughed. “There’s a wink, though. I think that means he’s joking.”
He paused for a second, reading the username. “Wait, ‘she’? Well that changes everything,” he released my arm and opened his meal. “Invite her for dinner. I’ll even cook.”

  I flicked a prawn at his cheek. It didn’t hit him, but it did sail past his nose and fly off the balcony. He kept eating. “You’d better work on that aim if you want to beat my score in Free for All.”

  I couldn’t scoff loudly enough. I always beat him. “You want to settle who beats who right now? I will camp your spawn points until you’re begging for mercy.”

  “I like the sound of that,” he said, and shovelled some more food into his mouth. “Come on, let’s do it.”

  After the day I’d had, that was one ‘do it’ that I could really get into with him.

  THREE

  There was something beautiful about arriving fresh at work the following morning to an office full of groaning, baggy-eyed co-workers half of whom were cradling their head on their desks. The timing couldn’t have been better, either, given that awful photo that they’d taken of me yesterday. I took far too much pleasure in making zero attempt to be considerate. Michelangelo nodded violently as I kicked my bottom drawer shut and sat down.

  “Give me a break, Mini,” a voice droned from the other side of the partition. It sounded suspiciously like it was being mumbled through a forearm. “I have the world’s worst hangover.”

  And I’m playing the world’s smallest violin. “Sorry,” I said, aware of just how un-sorry I sounded. I may have even been grinning.

  Working at a global company meant that most of my important emails arrived overnight, and I had to spend a few minutes combing through them for anything that needed my attention. It took more effort than usual today; some other poor sucker had drunk too much yesterday and passed out in a weird position on a bench. One of the reps had Photoshopped him into a series of settings, like footy matches, Lady Gaga concerts, Centrelink office stairs… the list went on. The pictures were being circulated with serious subject lines so when you opened them, you had no idea what you were about to see. My ‘delete’ key was certainly getting a workout.

  There were actually some important emails in the mix, though. Frost was conducting explorations in a couple of countries in Africa, and my best guess about the next assignment we’d all be on was to canvas for investors to establish mines there. I sat back in my chair and read through some of the documents, ignoring all the email notifications popping up from my own team. I wasn’t a big fan of marketing to investors—it was a really dry topic and I usually ended up using pretty much the same content and layout each time. On the other hand, it could mean scoring business trips to Botswana and New York. That would be cool.

  I had been Googling the closest major airport to Botswana when hands loudly drumming the partition behind me made me jump. I swivelled towards the racket.

  “Hey, Marketing!” our executive marketing manager Jason boomed over the top of me. He was possibly the only person aside from the two CEOs who wasn’t known by a nickname, and that’s because he was this imposing, extroverted man who everyone was a little afraid of. My usual interactions with him involved a combination of the following: him barking instructions at me on an airplane while, in the background, hostesses were telling him to turn his mobile off; getting emails at 4 am because he’d ‘just had an idea about something’ and as a result needed me to change 20 pages of documents right now; and having him suddenly appear behind me out of nowhere to drop documents on my desk and casually suggest I clear my calendar for the next two weeks. There was a rumour that he and the other co-CEO Sean Frost worked out together. Jason’s biceps were so thick his shirt sleeves looked like they were about to tear open at the seams, so it was probably true.

  I must have been looking at them while he was thumping away at the partitions, because I made eye contact with Sarah across the floor and she grinned at me. Two seconds later I got an email from her and the text read, ‘Pretty sure you’re not his type...’ I snorted and replied, ‘what a coincidence, he’s not mine, either ;).’ Sarah raised her eyebrows at me, and I quickly realised what I might have inadvertently implied in comparing myself to him. I didn’t have a chance to correct myself, though, because Jason started his announcement.

  “It’s that time of the month again,” Jason was calling. “And, no, I don’t mean where I get neurotic and start crying hysterically. Although you guys will be doing that pretty soon, judging by the number of contracts we need. Nope,” he leant theatrically on the partition. “Sales, management and of course, me, have picked teams for the next pitches and we’ll be sending out an email in a sec with the details. Some of you might be on more than one team. Sorry about that. Not really, though. If you have questions, I’ll be in my office.” He gave us an exaggeratedly macho wave, and then disappeared.

  I looked back over towards Sarah, but she had already been accosted by a couple of other reps. I watched them for a few seconds to figure out if they were just passing by, but from Sarah’s expression it was actually business. To her it was, anyway. The two men were watching her white blouse a little too closely; it was both disgusting and fascinating. She noticed it, too, but didn’t seem to care. She just tapped her pen on her glossy lips and read whatever document they’d handed her.

  Someone groaned across from me. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said aloud. “I’m on investment in Canada again.”

  I glanced over at him; he was leaning up to his computer screen with a frown on his face. Just as I realised that everyone else was doing the same thing, my computer chimed and a new email appeared—it was the one Jason had been talking about. Leaning up to the screen myself, I scrolled down the list of names for each project.

  My name wasn’t anywhere.

  I must have missed it. I opened the search field and typed ‘Lee’, and it returned no results. I sat back for a second, my stomach dropping. Up until that point, I hadn’t given much thought to my exchange with Diane Frost yesterday. Right now, though, that’s all I could think about. Fuck, had my colour scheme in that brochure really been that bad? I’d heard of people who’d performed badly being transferred out of marketing into admin, but I’d never had anyone criticise my work before. Sure, management sometimes wanted me to change a few things, but it was never serious. I couldn’t lose my job, I just couldn’t. I was my job. I took a deep breath to try and steady myself. Chill, Min, just chill. It was probably just an accident that they didn’t assign you, I’m sure it’s happened before. There are a lot of reps here, they probably just missed you. Despite trying to reassure myself that there was probably a normal explanation for why my name wasn’t there, I had a bad feeling.

  While I was busy stressing the fuck out, my chair spun around. It was Sarah’s arm on the spine on it. “Can I borrow you for a second?” she asked with urgency, and then ushered me over away from the floor before halting in front of me. “Wow, Min,” she said, glancing back towards everyone to make sure no one could hear us. “Who else knows?”

  I gaped down at her, my heart still pounding from the email. Did she know something I didn’t? “Who else knows what?”

  She leant in a little. “You know, that thing with Jason…”

  I had hardly spoken to Jason in at least three weeks, I was pretty certain that nothing had happened between us that would get me in trouble. Especially not something that Sarah would know about before I did. Just in case, though, I tried frantically to rehash my last few contacts with him to figure out if I’d done something wrong. “What thing? What did you hear?”

  She just looked blankly at me for a second as if she had no idea what I was talking about. “Min, you sent me an email like five minutes ago.”

  Sent an email like… oh! Oh. That email where I might accidentally have implied I was gay by comparing myself with Jason. She thought I’d just come out to her? That was it? I was so relieved I laughed. It was a million times better than what I thought I was going to hear—that I’d transgressed and was going to be ejected from Mark
eting. “God!” I said. “No. No, no. I’m not… I’m sure I told you about Henry, didn’t I? Wow, I thought you were going to tell me something else!”

  “Well, yeah, I knew you two were together, but…” She didn’t finish that sentence, shaking her head and laughing along with me. “Jeez, Min, I was like—am I the last person to know about this? You said it so casually. Whoops.” She took a deep breath. “Sorry for freaking you out. Anyway, which project did you get?”

  I stopped laughing and winced, remembering what I’d been worrying about. “That’s actually what I thought you were going to ask me about. My name isn’t on the project list.”

  Sarah’s brow furrowed. “Like, not at all?” I shook my head, and she blew a gust of air out through her lips. “Well, there are thirty of us. Maybe it’s an accident.”

  “Maybe,” I said, doubting it. “Which project did you get?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Two, unfortunately. I’m doing web analytics and social media for private consumers again. I need to stop doing a good job with that.” I remembered a year or two ago Sarah, who had previously been obsessed with Facebook, announced that marketing had put her off Facebook forever. I never saw her online anymore. “Also I’m on another project that doesn’t have specs yet. It’s called ‘Pink’, though, so it might just been one of Jason’s really unfunny jokes.”

  I had opened my mouth to make a snide comment about that, but before I did we were interrupted. “Hey, Mini!” someone shouted across the floor. We both looked out towards the voice. A rep from my workstation was holding his phone with the handset pressed across his shoulder. “Phone!”

  I looked back at Sarah. She gestured towards the rep, her elaborate bracelets jingling. “Maybe there’s your answer?”

  I swallowed. “It’s been nice knowing you,” I said darkly.

  She laughed. “I bet it’s just a mistake,” she said, touching my arm amicably like she usually did with everyone. Because I had been distracted, though, I wasn’t ready to try and feign being cool about it. She noticed my unease and quickly put it back down by her side, making me feel awkward. I could have kicked myself. She didn’t mention it, and I didn’t mention it, but I just felt like I’d failed a test.