Choppy (Desk Surfing Series Book 2)

by Davila Eggert

  "More."

  "I got more," said Stefen.

  "Don't pop."

  "Just stay wet, Hawaii-girl," said Stefen, "I’m not poppin’ or stoppin’."

  "Bring it!"

  "I’m not stoppin’!" said Stefen.

  "Bring that!"

  "Not stoppin’!" said Stefen.

  "Don’t stop, Bama!”

  "Not stoppin’!" said Stefen.

  "That all you got?"

  It was a competition. Who could best whom. Whose worst was worse. He flipped me up, off the table. I panicked. I wasn’t in control, no physical orientation. The view changed so rapidly. Flat on the table, I could see the ceiling. Then I could see the door, then the wall. No idea where I was going, then he slapped hands on my ass. Guess he thought I had an ass. He slapped it hard. I felt like he left a dent in my simple butt. I understood why girls got ass implants, when you needed one, you needed it. But he grabbed it. Each side was assaulted. But it wasn’t an assault. It was support. I was mid-air, not on the pool table—not on the floor. Heels on, but my feet were useless. They just dangled. I was hanging on his Johnson. He wasn’t resting on the moment. For me, it was a first. For him, it seemed like Olympic tryouts—something he was practicing for. He desperately wanted to make the team. He was boxing my body, with his dick. And his body looked like a landscape. His shoulders popped, mountain-like. His chest hair folded like grass. The separation between his biceps and his shoulders formed a perfect valley. His biceps bulged with veins, like rough peaks. Everything was tense. I could see where his muscles folded into his chest. It wasn’t just chest. I could see my old biology quiz coming at me—the one with an arrow and a blank pointing out all the muscles on a human diagram. I just had to fill in the names. It was that shit. All those muscles were screaming What’s my name? I could see the separation in his chest. I could see multiple impressions. I forgot there was more than one chest muscle—biology class. It wasn’t just what I could see. It was what I could feel. My pussy was circled around his dick like shrink wrap. I could just feel every movement of his dong. It was great. He was big. He wasn’t as big as Longboard. But that was where his movement made up for it. His dick wasn’t so big that I felt like I was giving birth to the damn thing. But it was big enough for me to feel it no matter where it went.

  And that was the thing. He knew where to go. He wasn’t just inside me for himself. He was giving me benefits, working those out-of-work areas. I could feel him so easily. It was so earthly and warm, even though I was suspended mid-air. I had to hold on to his shoulders to keep myself anchored. I was floating, literally on Cloud 9. His dick was the pilot, just navigating. He started to move forwards, backwards for me. He slowly lowered me back on top of the pool table. He joined me on top. He surfed his hands up my arms and kiss both my breasts. When his hands reached mine, he wrapped my fingers with his. Then he just got hard licks in, noise-making—breath-taking muscle. My body was just reverbing. My thighs felt multiple concussions. The wind was knocked out of me. It forced my eyes closed. I spilled all over his dick. I could feel the wet expanding. I was so into me, I forgot about him. It took me seconds to realize he stopped pushing in. He was slowly pulling out. He spent his. I let go mine. Good show Alabama!

  “Points, props whatever you want. You get them!”

  “You liked that did you?” said Stefen.

  “9.0.”

  “I can’t get a 10 for the acrobatics?” said Stefen.

  “I’ve never given a 10.”

  “That’s harsh,” said Stefen.

  “Nah. Just practical.”

  “How so?” asked Stefen.

  “Gotta leave you something to work for.”

  “Dangling the carrot,” said Stefen.

  “You’ve already got your carrot dangling. I’m just trying to keep people honest. Everybody gives themselves an A for effort.

  “But you want results,” said Stefen.

  “Don’t we all. But I’ll be honest. I don’t give many 9s either.”

  “That’s encouraging,” said Stefen.

  “Sure it is. Keep up the hard work.

  “Will do,” said Stefen, “Do you stay nights?”

  “Is that an offer?”

  “It’s an invitation,” said Stefen.

  “Sure. I’ll stay.” And I did. It was awkward. But he earned it. He wasn’t too much of this or that. He did everything nail-on-the head. I didn’t want to make drama with a debate over whether I’d stay or not. And he’d take me home, if I wanted. But I stayed cuz he wanted. After all his heroics, the sleep came easy and fast, like the morning. He didn’t take me home right away. We woke up and he told me that his place on Kaua’i had an espresso maker. But his boy’s guesthouse didn’t. He almost treated me to Starbucks on the way back to my place. But there was a Bean Connect coffee shop on the way back. They had things like coconut oil added to your cup of Joe. They even roasted beans with dried pineapple chips. You could taste the kick in your coffee. It was a more appealing kind of store than Starbucks.

  “You know,” said Stefen, “I’ve driven by these places before but I’ve never been in one.”

  “Why not? You’re an obvious adventurer.”

  “Dunno, it just always seemed like a Starbucks rip off,” said Stefen.

  “It is a Starbucks rip off!”

  “It’s got a different vibe,” said Stefen.

  “It’s not a clone. I mean the color scheme’s different but it’s for sure a rip off.”

  “The selection’s different,” said Stefen.

  “But the service is the same.”

  “So I’ll just say thank you for bringing me here, then shut up and drink this mocha,” said Stefen.

  “You could do that.” Something came from behind me. It had the rush of wind but it didn’t do what wind did. It didn’t ruffle my hair. It didn’t tingle my skin. There was no hot-or-cold sensation. But there was the pressure. It wasn’t flowing over my pores, like wind. It was circling the track in my head. It was the beginning of something, a realization. I was starting to notice Stefen. I liked the guy. He took me back to my place and kissed me on the forehead. It wasn’t the daughter’s first day of school type of kiss. It was the no matter what, you are something special type of kiss. It was nice. I had to call Jessie.

  “Sorry I’ve been MIA.”

  “I’ve gotten used to it,” said Jessie.

  “You working today?”

  “I’m night shift today,” said Jessie.

  “What time?”

  “7 pm,” said Jessie.

  “You wanna meet up?”

  “Can we do next weekend?” said Jessie, “I’m hung over.”

  “What happened?”

  “Met someone,” said Jessie.

  “From work?”

  “Well, at work, but I don’t date coworkers,” said Jessie.

  “Ok. I want details when you can.”

  “Thanks,” said Jessie.

  “For?”

  “Being a friend,” said Jessie.

  “That’s what I am. Talk to you.”

  “You too,” said Jessie. I didn’t make Jessie spell anything out. She was just glad I was her friend. And I didn’t make it anything else. And that was the truth. I did accept it. I think.

  Chapter Five

  Monday was never magic. But I worked mine. I got a lot done, with a Sunday evening to myself. I finished reviewing the new summary plan description. And I put everything into a PowerPoint presentation. I followed my rules: put three bullet points on each slide; ten slides maximum—nine slides optimal. I used a simple 3D text background of a question mark. I just wanted that idea to get across. I wanted the employees to know there were changes to the plan. So, they should have questions.

  It should have been me asking the questions. I sent out a meeting post for the next Friday at 10 am. I thought saying the meeting would last less than an hour wouldn’t ruffle any feathers. It didn’t. It straight pissed some people off. Two of the three female
senior managers, Karen and Olina, flipped a bitch. They were both bitches. Maybe they flipped each other. Even though senior managers had access to the posting system, it was protocol for senior managers to check with each other before posting in the system. Only the CEO could post without manager approval. That I didn’t know. Karen and Olina came into my office uninvited. They wanted to speak with me for a moment. Yehuda and David, the two guy managers, were there. Yehuda was general counsel and VP over the Legal Department. David was the manager of the claims adjusters’ team. Tori, the Director of the Claims Department, came from downstairs. She never came upstairs, except for manager meetings. The floor below was all Key Way claims processing department, including the adjusters. That was her den. It was relaxed, like she was. Tori didn’t talk. Karen basically said she thought I was trying to be the acting CEO of Key Way Insurance. Olina straight asked me if Longboard gave me such authority when he left. Everyone admitted that they only knew what Longboard said in his memo. No one talked to him after he left. As far as the management structure, Karen suggested the role of CEO fell on all of management. Yehuda held to the idea that the CEO was the CEO. He was supportive, like a foam mattress is supportive. He said calling meetings with company staff was within the job description of the office manager. He did think it was important to announce meetings to senior management before they were posted. But David admitted that Longboard seldom did it that way. Olina was quick to remind everyone I wasn’t Longboard. Karen agreed with Olina. Tori agreed with them both.

  It was the real world example I imagined at high school graduation. At graduation, it was underage insecurity. But now it was fact. I knew all my friends were leaving the Island and I thought it was me against the world. Now, the whole world was really ganging up on me. David was cool but somewhat condescending. His line burned me the rest of the day. You’re not quite there yet kiddo. I had no idea what that meant. Was he saying I didn’t have the chops to be an office manager? Or was he agreeing that I usurped the roll of CEO from Longboard? It was just a meeting I posted. And there was no one who provided me with any sort of training. A memo dropped and I was office manager. That’s literally how it went. Longboard was gone. And I no longer gave a fuck about his big dick. I was beginning to see that he left me in a fucked up spot. The senior managers agreed to rework their schedules and the schedules of their staff to allow the meeting to go forward. It had nothing to do with me. They said it was reasonable because the meeting was already posted. Being posted meant a lot of employees had already seen it. And with Hank gone, they wanted everything to go smoothly. They didn’t want a meeting to be posted, then cancelled. Hank didn’t leave a spiral binder of shit for me to do. So I just asked. Is there a spiral somewhere with all the protocols in it?

  The rest of the day was about avoiding the temptation to stay in my office. It failed. My office was my Alamo. That wasn’t an exaggeration. The reason was that except for the six senior managers, everyone in the office was under someone. Soldiers were loyal to their commanders. I was office manager. I guess that meant the walls, windows and work stations were under me. Those were my soldiers. There was no actual team known as office management. But that made me think. Was there anyone on my squad? I thought about it and realized there was, Romy. She was the receptionist. Her job wasn't specific to any other branch of the Key Way forces. She worked for the office. The other managers dealt with her only when they were expecting someone. Just point him to my office when he arrives, tell him I'm expecting him. Romy did just that. And Brianna was her main contact when Brianna was office manager. Now, that job belonged to me.

  That was the rest of my week. I just strategized to avoid damage to my position in the office. I made sure to check on Romy without seeming fake. Maybe it seemed fake. She wasn't stupid. Probably the smartest one in most offices is the receptionist. The job is straight-forward. No late nights, and you pay your bills. If you care about money and status, you can get a master's degree and try to become a manager. But was that really worth it? Romy was smart enough to realize it wasn’t. If I had a soldier in the office, Romy was it. I never had to worry about that kind of stuff before. But the title office manager implied office politics. No one ever brought me a spiral binder with company protocols. So I mitigated. Mitigating was making my own protocols. To supplement, I went over my employee handbook that was two years old. That was all I had. But I did some more mitigating on the weekend. I called up Jessie, so I could bitch about everything. And Saturday afternoon I called Alex. He was the tall Eurasian California boy I met at Club Osmi. He was actually taller than I remembered. I blame it on the alcohol. I always felt taller after sipping.

  I met Alex at a noodle bar on Saturday. The noodle bar had nothing to do with him or me being Asian. I went out of my way to be out of my way. I knew Stefen had friends on the Island. He even stayed at a friend's guesthouse. He was back to Kaua'i. But he said he started out in the music scene on O'ahu. Those music guys were like roaches. They were everywhere. I wasn't serious about Stefen. But I'm a soldier. I've got training. Actually, I've trained myself. I'm a jealous bitch about things like that. If I saw Stefen at a noodle bar with some chick, I'd be upset. I was old enough to assume it'd be the same on the other side of the aisle. Stefen was cool. No guy was that cool. He'd flip. So I took Alex to a local place, mom-and-pop. I didn't want any restaurant chains. You never knew who would walk in. Green Sticks was a local favorite. It had been nestled in The IV since I was a kid. I couldn't even remember when it opened. I just remembered it was there. The IV was District IV. The island of O'ahu is divided into nine districts. Hawai'i Kai is a community at the very eastern tip. It's mostly houses and hills. But there are a few places to hang out. Green Sticks was down the street and across the water from Hawai'i Kai Shopping Center. It was in a shopping plaza that shared a parking lot with a McDonald's and a nail salon. It didn't look like much on the outside. They didn't invest in glitter. The sign had always been the same and it didn't light up, ever. But the noodles kept people coming back. The owners were from Hong Kong. And they brought the Hong Kong-flavor with them. But Green Sticks wasn't the place to go to see-and-be-seen. That was the point. When Alex showed up, I thanked him for coming down to meet me.

  "I'm ready to try these noodles that you bragged about," said Alex.

  "Prepare yourself, my friend."

  "That good huh?" said Alex.

  "This place is at least twenty-five years old. How could they compete with all these franchises if they weren't selling a damn good noodle?"

  "Good food sells itself, right?" said Alex.

  "On O'ahu it does. I spent my whole life here."

  "In Cali, it's pretty much the same deal," said Alex, "But you go some places for drinks, despite the food. It's like here."

  "Can you put in an order for me?"

  "Sure," said Alex.

  "I want the No. 5 with spicy pepper sauce on top."

  "No. 5 with spicy pepper sauce," said Alex, "Should I have one too."

  "If you can handle the spicy pepper sauce."

  "We'll see," said Alex.

  "We will." He left. Then he came back.

  "Here you go," said Alex, "No. 5 with spicy pepper sauce."

  "Thank you."

  "So what's up?" asked Alex, "You said you wanted to run something by me?"

  "Do you have your card on you? I got your number at the club but do you have your card?"

  "Do you?" said Alex, "We're both in marketing. If you have your card, then I have mine."

  "I have mine."

  "And now you have mine," said Alex.

  "Alex Koo."

  "Yep. And you're Dawn..." said Alex.

  "Krizman."

  "What kinda name..." said Alex.

  "Slovene."

  "You don't meet too many Slovenes around O'ahu," said Alex.

  "Yeah, I know. But my grandma did."

  "Where was she from?" asked Alex.

  "Here, but her parents were from Japan."

  "W
here was your granddad from?" asked Alex.

  "Here, but his parents were from Slovenia."

  "How did an ethnic Japanese girl hook up with a Slovenian-American guy?" asked Alex.

  "Good question. You've heard of Mussolini the Italian dictator?"

  "Yeah," said Alex.

  "Mussolini's Fascist government tried to Italianize the Slovenes. They invaded Slovenia and outlawed speaking Slovenian. So my great-grandparents escaped and settled here. That's why my grandpa was born here. My grandma's parents left Imperial Japan after Japan surrendered in World War II. In fact, my grandma was actually born in Japan but she grew up here from like seven years old. So they met here on O'ahu. They were high school sweethearts."

  "That's so cool," said Alex.

  "Well, apparently my grandpa was a stud."

  "Really?" said Alex.

  "Yeah, a tall blonde guy running around O'ahu. He stood out."

  "Your grandma must've had serious game to pull him," said Alex.

  "My grandma's still got game."

  "Really?" said Alex.

  "She can pull dudes today faster than I can."

  "Damn!" said Alex, "Don't send her to a nursing home. She'll clean up!"

  "She'd be running the place. That lady invented swag."

  "That's funny," said Alex.

  "Yeah, but let me tell you about my week."

  "OK," said Alex. So I told him. And he actually listened. I designed it down like an architect. I tried to give him a picture of what my first few weeks as office manager were like. I explained it. And I realized my weeks as office manager had me working for a whole new company. I added a little exaggeration, like I do. I wasn't trying to win him over. I was trying to get my point across. We were both adults. We knew the workplace wasn't high school. But it wasn't all business either. There were cliques. There was bullying--same as high school.