"She broke out the whole package...the high heels, the lip gloss, all juxtaposed against that perfect coca skin."
Yet Leta’s been anything but discreet in the way she dresses. Each day last week was warmer and warmer, and each day her skirt got shorter and shorter.
Last Thursday (when I began this post) Leta wore a plaid mini skirt so short it was borderline porn-gear. That might be a bit of an exaggeration, but not by much. Not when you look like her. She broke-out the whole package too: the high heels, the lip gloss; all juxtaposed against that perfect cocoa skin. I almost popped my jizz-nut when I passed her in the copy room.
Leta’s ridiculously hot and I thank God for it; but there’s always one asshole in every crowd. At least one. And at our office his name’s Claude.
Claude’s from Guyana. He’s a deacon at his church when he’s not an overtime drone for our company. He’s very soft-spoken. Humble. Laughs like an 8 year old school-girl, but otherwise speaks at the same volume under all circumstances. I doubt he’s ever taken a sick day when he wasn’t really sick. And I’ve never seen him lose his temper. Not even on Thursday.
Thursday we had a unit meeting in my company’s conference room. It was supposed to be at 2:30, but when we underlings arrived at the doors we discovered them closed. Apparently the managers had a few things they still hadn’t resolved.
A lot of my co-workers went back to their desks to be summoned, but some of us remained in the hallway to shoot the shit. Water-cooler stuff as we stood around and waited.
“You get that email I sent you?”
“How ‘bout them Yankees. They lost last night you know.”
"What’s the weather supposed to be this weekend? Shitty? I knew it!"
Then unexpectedly, out of nowhere, Claude had something to say. His Guyanese accent resembles the sing-song cadence of the West Indies, but its more subtle.
“You know, I can’t help but wonder if any of you noticed Leta today?”
The rest of us looked at each other and laughed. Only Claude would approach the subject this way.
“Yeah Claude, my co-worker told him, “that was me you heard jerking-off in the bathroom. I couldn’t even make it to my desk she’s so hot.”
“That was you Hal?” another worker asked, “I was in the stall next to you.”
Laughs all around.
“I just want all of you to know one thing,” I said as I lowered my voice and motioned for the group to huddle towards me, “I would shoot everyone of you in the head right now if I thought it could somehow result in sex with Leta.”
“Thanks Lodo!”
"We knew we could count on you!”
"Justifiable homicide, eh?"
"The way she looks today?--seems fair."
Stupid talk, I’ll admit. Office talk. I can assure you I wasn’t emotionally invested in it.
But Claude seemed to be. His eyebrows furrowed and he momentarily stroked his chin before he commented in his professorial manner.
“Well now Lodo, the talk I’m hearing validates my concern.”
“What does what now?” I asked as my smile dissipated.
“Well I think it’s obvious that the girl is dressed inappropriately,” Claude responded. “I know that she’s from the Dominican,...perhaps she doesn’t know the proper way to dress at an office.”
“Doesn’t know?” I asked.
Claude laughed, but stayed on point.
“I think we should mention it at the meeting today.”
“Mention what?” my co-worker Hal suddenly interjected as he took a step forward.
“..That Leta needs to dress in a more appropriate manner,” Claude answered in Hal’s direction, “or else she becomes a distraction. Plus she may not know.”
“Doesn’t know?” Hal responded as he looked at us in exasperation. Hal’s overweight and tends to breathe hard. I could see his chest begin to heave. He looked ready to spit on the floor, but instead he exclaimed “That girl knows everything Claude, I can assure you. Everything she needs to know. This girl’s a gift! You’re not a manager Claude. Its not for you to bring it up! Control yourself.”
“It was you who said that you’d masturbated this morning,” Claude answered.
“I was just kidding, man!”
“He was just kidding Claude!” a couple of the other guys chimed in.
“Well look at the ideas she’s introduced into the conversation,” Claude responded to the group at large before he returned his attention back to Hal. “I can assure you Hal if I thought you were going down the wrong road or doing something to hurt your career, I would tell you. I wouldn’t want you to lose your job. No one is going to respect this girl the way she’s dressed and she may need someone to explain the proper...”
“Oh give me a break!” Hal responded with a wave of his hand. “I can’t believe what I'm hearing. You wouldn’t know what to do with a piece of ass like that. That’s the problem with you Claude.”
Claude and Hal locked yes. All of us were shocked into silence. Up to that time, I was on Hal’s side of the argument; but this was a personal attack.
“...I have four sons,” Claude finally said.
“You’re not a manager Claude,” was Hal’s unapologetic response. “You should just leave it alone. You're not my father.”
Suddenly the conference room doors opened and my supervisor appeared. He’s 6’ 6” tall, so he can see (and be seen) over all the cubicles.
“We’re ready people,” he called to those who’d returned to their desks as he gestured for the rest of us to enter.
All the chairs 'round the conference table were taken by managers, so we filed past toward the back. It was Hal, a guy named Wayne, and myself; whereas Claude and some of the others who’d been in the hallway separated themselves toward the front.
It took a few minutes for our co-workers to file into the room, and in the interim Hal continued to mumble beneath his breath.
“I didn’t mean to say that about Claude--that just slipped out. But why’s he gotta mention anything? He tries to act like he’s better than us--I don’t like that in these religious types. No straight man would ever go to his manager and complain about Leta. No way. Isn’t he supposed to be a preacher or something? Or a pastor. You know what? He’s a hypocrite! The man must be gay. To complain to your supervisor about a gorgeous girl at the office? She answers phones for Christ’s sake! He’s gotta...”
“Alright Hal,” I finally said, “I’d just leave it at this point and see what happens.”
Hal twirled a toothpick in his mouth and rocked in his chair. He kept his mouth shut and seemed to contemplate Claude who sat next to our company’s VP.
“...Look at him,” Hal finally said to me. “You think he’s gonna say anything?”
I stole a glance toward Claude. He sat rigid in his chair--eyes straight ahead, feet flat on the ground.
“Definitely,” I answered.
“...God damn it.”
God damn it indeed.
5 comments:
There certainly is one in every crowd.
Sexual repression can do ugly things to people.
Hey Lodo, don't be a jizz-nut,( I love the phrase) and not tell us what happend. You wouldn't be that cruel.
Hey Willie:
Thought I'd made it clear, but as I review I can see how there may be a lack of closure there.
But yeah, Claude definitley brought it up at the meeting. Chomped at the bit the whole time our managers spoke and when they opened it up for questions or comments he was the first and only one with his hand up. Freaking a-hole; but hey--Hal's comments (or at least that one personal comment) were out if line as well. At least in my book.
But that's what pussy'll do to an office!
Looking forward to part 3.
I think it will be fun to see you develop this Hal character.
My apologies Spence (and to any other readers I may have confused/misled). Part 2 was the conclusion of this post, though I can certainly retun to Hal for a later post or two. He's definitley a character.
Thanks to all for reading. And again, my apologies to anyone led astray or left hanging! Certainly not my intention.
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