|
The Secretary Winked
"I'm wearing edible panties," said Norma Jean.
"No thanks," said Mister Blister. "I had panties for lunch." He was all
business. His last secretary got him into trouble with the FBI.
"You're not ever likely to be accused of sexual harassment, are you, sir?"
she asked, her eyes having never left the screen nor her fingers the
keyboard. She entered long columns of numbers into the computer.
"No, but you might be," he said. "Why do you insist on flirting with me?"
He removed the folder, closed the file drawer and turned to look at the
framed poster of Monet's Water Lilies from an exhibit at the Metropolitan
Museum of Fuzzy Art some time in the indefinite past.
"Because I know nothing will come of it. Why are you so, so... ?" She
hovered between concentrating on the numbers and finding the right word.
This required different regions of the brain and was how mistakes are made.
"Serious?" Was that a bug on the bright magenta blossom? He waved his hand
across the print. No, it was a fly on the glass. It zipped away.
"Yes, serious, unfriendly even." There was an audible nasal shift to her
tone of voice, never a good sign.
"Because, I've been burned before in a relationship with a former
secretary." Bamboozled was what he meant.
"Was it over flirting?"
"No, money."
"That figures. Were you always so unapproachable?" It took a little longer
to enter the numbers now, because she had to check each one. Why did she
start this conversation?
"I learned in prison that I was a control freak and that I was unfriendly."
He saw her reflection in the glass, though he didn't want to. Why didn't
they use non-reflective glass to frame the picture? It's so annoying when
images of life compete with a work of art for one's attention.
"Oh, you took group therapy?" She paused and bit her lower lip softly, even
sucked on it a little bit. Damn, that probably ruined her lipstick.
"No, I learned it from my cell mate." Bite on that, Baby, he thought. OK,
so I'm an ex-con. I paid my price.
Still, he hadn't even put that on his application. He said he went back to
college for his MBA. It wasn't a complete lie. He did take online courses
while he was in the slammer.
"Was he able to help you?" She activated the camera that she used for
videoconferences. This was better than a mirror. He wouldn't know. His
back was turned. The lipstick was a little smudged, but passable.
"Only after he slammed me against the wall and stuffed my head in the
toilet." Whoa, the reflection was good. What's she doing, looking at
herself?
"Ouch, did that happen often?" She switched the camera off.
"Only once, then we had a serious talk. He told me that without a shotgun,
I wasn't going to tell him what to do and he didn't care about being my
friend, but if I didn't adjust my attitude, I was going to have a short and
unhappy life." Nah, it must just have been a pop-up ad. Mister Blister
will have to talk to her about blocking them.
"What was he in for, murder, mayhem, assault?" My God, he could have been
killed. Served him right, though. It's what he needed to be told.
"No, it was a white collar prison. I asked, but he told me it was none of
my business." Should he be telling her all of this?
"How long was your sentence?" How long was it before he saw a woman again?
"Five years, I got off in three for good behavior." He spent most of his
free time in the library after that and finished the work for his degree
within his reduced sentence.
"This is the most you've spoken since I started working here."
"I know. I'm beginning to like it. What flavor are your panties?" Was she
serious?
"You didn't really believe that, did you?" Uh oh, he took the bait.
"No, but if it were true, what flavor would they be?" It's an academic
question, harmless.
"Uh, I don't know, maybe lentil soup." Back off, Buddy.
"Lentil soup, is that erotic?" She wasn't serious.
"No, I just like lentil soup."
"Could I buy you some lentil soup after work?"
"Is that supposed to be romantic?"
"No, I just wanted to do something nice for you. You're the first woman
I've talked to like this since I got out of jail." She's the first woman
he's talked to like this in his whole life.
"Hmm, that sounds dangerous." What had she gotten herself into? Now she
was going to have to fix her lipstick.
"What could possibly happen over a bowl of lentil soup?" Perhaps Napoleon
ate a bowl of lentil soup before the Battle of Waterloo.
"Will you be having one, too?" She would if he would.
"No, I prefer tomato bisque."
John A. Ward was born on Staten
Island, attended Wagner College in the early 60's, sold his first poem to
Leatherneck magazine, and became a scientist. He is now in San Antonio
running, writing and living with his dance partner. He has published in
Doorknobs & Bodypaint, Clockwise Cat, Apollo's Lyre, Ascent Aspirations,
Toasted Cheese, Green Tricycle, Alighted Ezine, Lit Bits, Cenotaph Pocket
Edition, The San Antonio Express-News, Antithesis Common, Wild Child, Holy
Cuspidor, Idlewheel, Cautionary Tale, Sentence, Sun Poetic Times, Byline,
Quirk, ken*again, R-KV-R-Y, The Smoking Poet, Long Story Short and Rose &
Thorn. Links to his work can be found at
Web Site.
Email: John A. Ward
Return to Table of Contents
|