by Ava Michaels
"What was his name, anyway?" I asked.
"Um... Gaines."
“Was that his first name or his last name?” I was pushing the envelope asking all these questions. Sooner or later I’d hit that nerve and I’d have a pissed off roomy. If I wasn’t careful I’d spend the rest of the semester sleeping with one eye open.
She buried her face in a pillow as she giggled.
Good for Jess. She had hooked up with a meathead. Never mind his name sounded like a laundry detergent.
"Well, did you like, like him or anything?"
”Well, yeah. He was sweet. He brought me chocolate…I think.” She looked around the room for the box of Stovers I devoured in the hallway then shrugged her shoulders when she didn’t immediately see them lying around.
As much as I was disgusted, a small twinge of jealousy just wouldn't leave my stomach.
“Will you see him again, preferably in his room?” I couldn’t hide the snarky tone in my voice.
"I hope so. It was fun,” she said while examining a cuticle. Poor Gaines was already a memory being pushed aside by a hangnail.
I stood up and slid into a tight brown sweater. I was done with Jess for today.
"You are aware that no one is going to buy the cow if the milk is free?" When did I transform into my mother? I sounded so much like her I turned to look if she had walked into the room and made that comment.
She wiggled around on the bed and laughed at me.
"It could be worse. It could be like Alisha and that chick down the hall... Not only was that totally lesbo, but it was totally room-cest."
I had heard over and over about Alisha’s experimental exploits with her goth roommate, as had the whole campus.
"Yeah, I guess at least it wasn't like that," I said as I looked around the room searching for something to help that comment make sense.
"Don't give me that smart mouth this early in the morning, young lady," she said indignantly, but with a smile.
"Okay, okay," I said. "Maybe he was kind of cute. I was really just trying to say, Jess... That you're so beautiful you could have had any guy on campus you wanted. Why settle for just some ‘sweet’ dude who brings you stale chocolate candy?”
This perked her right up. Jess rolled herself back on the bed, grinning, almost purring with pride until she put one and one together.
“Hey, did you eat my chocolates?”
I rolled my eyes at this.
"Good luck with your day, Jess," I said with a smile. "Catch up tonight?"
She had already materialized back on her side of the room and was fiendishly Facebooking while wiggling around. Yeah, we'd catch up later tonight with the cheap bottle of white wine we'd split, and a box of Cheese Nips.
Freshman year, this was turning out to be a major drag.
----------Chapter 3----------
I got out of our apartment building and the cold, sweet fall air greeted me. The campus was perfectly manicured and it seemed like the fall leaves coordinated themselves to achieve maximum beauty. Purple leaves flowed elegantly into red ones that popped and set off the yellow and brown foliage like splattered paint. No matter how lousy I felt this was too pretty to just grumble by. It was clearing my head and waking me up a bit, which I definitely needed before I got into work. I certainly didn't want to be falling asleep at my desk and daydreaming about all the sex that has been on my mind recently.
Hanover was a nice little town to live in. My work was only a twenty minute walk down East Wheelock Street. I worked part-time for We Can Do It! which was a crowd-sourcing fundraising firm which financed projects relating to women's issues. The company facilitated the gathering of funds through calling, outreach and public investment on its website. Each project creator would choose a deadline and a minimum amount of funds needed to work the project.
Sometimes there were projects that I really felt for, like the project to start a women's magazine that the profits would then go to helping provide water sources in African villages. But then there were projects that I thought were maybe a bit on the ridiculous side, like helping create a new line of clothes or shoes, which was hardly what I would call Nobel Peace Prize worthy.
It might sound a little snobby but it was the greatest feeling when the Office Administrator said I could work part time in their accounting wing before or after class. I had worked with my dad in his small business, selling computer parts online, so I knew more about accounting than the average eighteen year old. But I soon realized it wasn’t what you know but who you know. Some people treated me like I didn’t belong there. My supervisor was someone like that. Betty Barkov.
She hated me from the first day I set foot in that office. It was my second day of work and I felt like making a good impression, so I wore my power suit that my mom bought me for job interviews. A navy skirt suit that just screamed to everyone in the office that I was a serious working woman ready to make not only a positive impression but a serious impact on the entire staff of We Can Do It! Unfortunately, my eagerness screwed everything up.
That day, Betty zeroed in on me and made sure I knew I was the lowest rung on the totem pole. There I was, an hour after I got there with my hair back in a ponytail, my shirt hanging messily out of my skirt waistband and a run in my panty hose filing papers in the annals of We Can Do It!.
So this morning as I rounded the corner to the office building, I noticed Battle-Axe Betty's car and took a deep breath. No way am I going to let her get under my skin today.
I walked in through the doors to the office, which was designed by one of the former Dartmouth students when the office was first opening up 3 years ago. Inside the office the designers left the brick wall up, from when the building was a factory many years ago. Along the walls were framed posters of the women’s magazines they had made, the people they had helped, and the companies they had started.
The office had a creative department, working on press releases and copywriting as well as designing websites. This was tastefully decorated with light green mesh desk chairs that had rocking bases, cubicles separated by a refashioned brick wall that had English Ivy, Jade Plants, local ferns and I suspect Betty's favorite: Mother-In-Law's Tongue growing from the top.
There was a green inside the middle of the building for the employees to relax and eat lunch on a nice day.
I was over in the accounting office. The higher-ups unfortunately gave the Iron Lady control over the design in this part of the office. So it was office grey with filing cabinets, soul-wrenching white walls with pictures of cats saying "Hang in there" and shit like that.
Betty had no taste.
"Hey, girl!" Veronica said to me from behind her receptionist’s desk. "I guess you had a little too many tequila shots at the office party last Friday."
I laughed, pumped my arms in the air, raising the roof.
"You know us college girls. Never too many!"
Wow, I felt ballsy today.
Veronica laughed and answered a ringing phone. Her lacquered nails held the phone close to her mocha-chocolate colored face. Veronica had rounder cheeks that were framed by a long cascade of miniature braids. She was what the brothers would call ‘thick’. She was well endowed, a fact that she broadcast with her deep plunging necklines, sported a tiny waist and a big ass supported by equally big thighs. She always wore pantsuit bottoms to work that, I swear, were intended to accentuate her curves. Like she really needed to? Her features were so well defined she was like a cartoon character.
Veronica was a ‘fag-hag’, so Alex called her. She was almost always with him, her partner in crime. He had some of the best advice around.
Just then Alex came in with some paperwork. It may not be politically correct but he was as queer as a three dollar bill. He also called himself that. Hey, I wasn’t going to tell him what he could and couldn’t say. There was no mistaking which team he played on. He was another office worker who had a perfect ass. His wasn't as luscious a booty as Veronica's, but he sure could wiggle that li
ttle apple bottom. His features were boyish, with a rounded nose and fuller lips to him. His eyes were grey and he always matched some part of his outfit to them. Today it was his grey DC sneakers.
"Hey there Special K," he said with a grin. "Fun office party last Friday."
I raised my eyebrows and nodded. Did I miss something?
"Yeah, it was..."
He looked at me, turning his head to the side.
"You don't remember, do you?" he asked, his grin becoming wider.
"Remember what? Just tell me…"
He laughed out loud.
"Oh, this is too much. Too much. This is going to be an interesting day for you.... You don't remember talking to Veronica really loudly, where everyone could hear you?"
Oh my god. I remembered talking with Veronica, but I had no idea I was loud enough for everyone to hear me.
"You called Betty the Bridled Beast of Bunt-town."
He then cackled and wrapped his arms around his very well-maintained body.
"Everyone thinks it is hilarious... Minus one Bridled Beast."
He continued laughing as I realized how much I had truly screwed up. He dropped the papers on the desk, labeled "To Be Filed" and laughed his way out of the room.
When I came into the office, thankfully Betty was nowhere to be found, so I sat down at my little desk in the back and put my bag down. After Alex was out of sight I laid my head on my desk. This was going to be the most awkward day of work I'd ever had.
Might as well get it started. I took off my jacket and brought the papers over to the cabinet to start filing.
………
Half an hour later, Betty came walking in. She was wearing a tan pant-suit and carrying a cup of coffee. She was a middle-aged woman, a few lines, but with expertly highlighted hair cut into a pixie style. I’ll bet she was a pretty woman once. Like when she used to smile. You could tell it. Although she kept herself up, it seemed that years of bitterness and the work of an accountant must have soured her. Whenever she was displeased, she puckered her lips like she was biting into a lemon. There was one thing to Betty though, either she had implants, or her breasts stood the test of time. Believe it or not they still caught men's eyes as she passed.
"Spurgeon," she said with a flat tone. "We're starting the process of getting the place in line for the annual audit. I want you to start from the beginning and pull the summaries out of each file and re-file those in the blue cabinets near your desk by case number. You can take your lunch in here today."
Holy hell! This was going to be a long process.
"Where will I find you if I have a question?"
"I'll be at the spa today, getting my bridle oiled."
With that she turned around and left.
Okay, I was being punished. I wasn’t fired. Being fired from an internist position would not look good at all. Especially my freshman year. That was it. I was never going to drink again… I should have listened when they said no underage drinking but Veronica kept slipping me drinks. I took a deep breath and began this grueling project. Perhaps I could smooth things over if I got this accomplished quickly.
………
Somewhere near lunch time my eyes were getting bleary from the work. Veronica and Alex came in with their lunches.
"We heard you were stuck in here today, so we thought we would get you something from Panera," Veronica said.
"Oh, thank you so much. This has been killing me here. My eyes are starting to cross."
They both sat down on the floor with their backs against the filing cabinets and dug into the toasted deliciousness.
Alex turned to me.
"So V tells me that you have a few names for the B. Can we trade? I sometimes call her the Iron Beef Curtains."
I shook my head as I laughed. This is what got me in deep to begin with.
“I call her Betty the Barker, or the Molotov Cock Rail.”
I laughed even harder.
"Wow, I never thought of trying the Russian angle. You guys are good."
I told them some of mine, Ball Busting Betty, Battle-Axe Betty and of course the Bridled Beast of Bunt Town and they laughed, nodding.
"It's funny that all of ours are about her being Russian and all of yours are about her being old."
We laughed together, clinked our teas and started gossiping about our personal lives. They wanted to hear every juicy detail about Jess’ late night escapades.
"Oh, my roommate used to do that all the time," Veronica said. "She once had a three-way when I was sleeping in the bed across the room."
"More like you were the third wheel on that trike," Alex said.
She slapped his arm, laughed and shrugged her shoulders.
"No. They had a third wheel. I was like the spare tire that time," she said.
Wow. I couldn't believe they were being this free with their personal lives. I hoped I wasn't expected to tell a story.
"Well, in college I was always the one waking up someone else's roommate," Alex said with a mischievous grin. "Or we were waking up the whole quad... Or the security guards in the dining hall..."
He laughed and Veronica cackled. I couldn't help but look shocked. Wow, I felt like such a prude.
"So what about you, Miss K?" Alex said. "Where's the craziest place you've done it?"
My mind raced. Make something up. Don't let these work friends know that you are still a virgin. That would be awful!
"Umm..." I started.
"Oh, she's a bit shy about it," Veronica patted my arm. "She's from Nebraska. It was obviously a corn field."
Alex laughed and my face went red.
"The cabin of a backhoe," I blurted, wanting it to come out seeming like I was worldly or experienced, but in reality seeming a bit trashy.
Alex and Veronica looked at each other puzzled.
"You went to the cabin of a prostitute who only does anal sex?" Alex looked at me with a laugh on his face.
It was my turn to laugh. Wow, people here really didn't know the country.
"A backhoe is like a front end loader."
Alex and Veronica looked at each other again.
"So, she does both?" Veronica looked at me with an eye brow raised. "Are you the back-ho or the front end loader?"
Okay, I didn't realize how sexual both of those names for excavation equipment were.
"Steam shovel," I said, using the ancient term.
"Ohhh..." they said together.
"Awesome," Alex said. He gave me a little high five and I felt good. Even though I lied, I felt like I was part of a club now. I was accepted because I had fictionally lost my virginity in a backhoe.
"Okay, I need to get back out there," Alex said. "I don't have the luxury of taking hour long lunches like you two freeloaders."
“Don’t you mean front-end loaders?” I replied giggling at my own joke.
"Oh, so you're going to be at your desk?" Veronica asked with a smile and a quirk to her eyebrow. "You aren't going to phone your boy and maybe visit the 'cabin of a backhoe?'"
Veronica used her fingers for air quotes and laughed. Alex threw a napkin at her and shushed her, striding out with a grin on his face.
Those two were like a sitcom sometimes, a sassy gay secretary and a sassy black receptionist. And here I was the 18-year old blonde virgin in accounting.
Veronica looked at me and gave me a knowing look, tilting her head down and staring at me. It was a look that said, "I know you just lied, and now the punishment is that you have to tell me everything."
I sighed. Nothing was going to stop her now, so I had to just tell her.
"Yes. I'm a virgin. Sorry for lying."
Veronica nodded and gave me a one armed hug.
"And you're ashamed of it, right?" Veronica asked.
"Not necessarily ashamed. Just a little embarrassed. Tired of it. I'm already looked at as young or naive. If everyone knew, all my flirts would come attached with a big glaring red sign that says, 'I don't know what I'm talking about.' I'm a
virgin.'"
Veronica laughed.
"Don’t worry. It’s no one’s business. Your dirty little secret is safe with me."
I smiled. "Thank you."
"However," she started, with an edge to her voice. "There's nothing to be ashamed of if you're a virgin. And let me tell you, as someone who knows a little somethin' somethin' about the sexual world: Having sex and making love really are two different things. You’re an 18 year old blonde country girl alone for the first time at college. If all you wanted was to get laid, you could trip in the apartment building and fall on at least one penis. That’s how easy it is. But, if you want your first time to be special, well, be prepared to kiss a lot of toads before you find a prince.”
I could understand that. I'd already had some experience with that language through my sheer amount of failures lately.
"You just gotta be confident, Olivia, and it will happen. I just hope it happens with the right guy."
I snorted.
"I'm not sure I even care if it's the right guy at this point."
"No, don't talk like that. If it isn't the best experience, then you will forget about it. But if it is a great one, then you will remember it."
I thought about that. Well, what the hell. Why not at least put the effort out there to find the right one. But I didn't want to wait too long.
“And like the saying goes, great things come to those that wait.”
“Well, all I have to say is when Virginity goes, it better be freaking fantastic! I’ve waited a long damn time.”
“I hope it is,” Veronica mumbled through her laugh.
I looked at the clock.
"I gotta get to class. Thanks for the advice, V," I hugged her and picked up my trash to put away.
"Okay,” she said. "Catch you tomorrow."
-----------Chapter 4-----------
"How is everyone today?"
Professor Tunde's question brought the whole class to attention at once. His voice was commanding - like Morgan Freeman with an edge that I found almost sensual. I was like those girls in the beginning of Raiders of the Lost Art, when Henry Jones is teaching his archeology course and all the women are just dreamily staring at him.