~ a story ~
I said it as we were leaving. The office was almost deserted. It was a Friday. A payday, no less. And it was Judy’s birthday. Everyone loved Judy’s parties.
So they all ran home to get ready. To put on their small dresses and tight shirts. To don clothes not appropriate for work.
But I had a project due on Monday. And I wanted to sleep in on Sunday. And Judy’s punch had too much kick for my taste.
You were still here, though I didn’t know why. Your project had gone well. Your presentation was praised by the partners, and there was talk of a possible promotion for you. You could coast for at least the next month, if not more. You had, after all, slaved away for half a year. Yet you were still here.
When I had gotten my outline to a workable fashion. When my slide show ran without fault. When the graphics were set and the last fact checked. When I was ready to go home, open a bottle of wine, and try to not allow myself to go to Judy’s party. When I turned off my light, grabbed my bag, and saw you about to go as well.
“Good night, Joseph.”
I gave you the coy smile. The twinkle in the eye smile. I gave you the cute that I normally held onto until a first date.
But we’ve never gone out on a date. Every time I spoke to you, the chorus in my head screamed, “Ask for my number.”
But you never did.
Still, I said it, plain as day, in three little words.
But you didn’t kiss me. You didn’t throw me down to the floor, or splay me across the conference room table, or drop to your knees while I rested against a cubicle wall.
You strolled behind me as I made my way to the elevator, dreaming of your hands on my body.
Will you ever fuck me?
I heard it in your voice. The lilt, the plea. Heard the words you didn’t speak. Your invitation as you left for the evening.
I heard it when you congratulated me on my presentation last week. When you passed me the creamer from the refrigerator this morning. When you held the elevator door for me a few days ago. I hear it all the time.
In your looks each morning and each night. When you didn’t even know you were saying it, I bet. I’ve known what you’ve not said.
But you never heard it back.
Never noticed the way I brush your hand whenever you hand me the creamer. Never noticed the caress in my voice when I said “Good evening, Eloise.” The business card tucked into your jacket. Or that I stayed late many nights so I could see you before you went home.
But tonight, you will notice.
That coy smile. That cute lilt. It’s time to end our play, and start the real fun.
Tonight you will hear me, as I always hear you. You will say what you always say, but in the true words of your desire. And I will speak the words you long to hear.
In thirty steps, from your desk to the elevator, that will be the long walk til we both get what we want. When those elevator doors close, we will both speak what has only been said in veiled words.
Our desires will be heard.
Categorised as: Gen Fiction
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