Confessions of an Alli Cat (11 page)

He nods and smiles.  “Noted, then.  From now on, if I notice something like that, I’ll tell you.  I just never know what will offend someone.”

He’s such a warm person.  It’s a little surprising since he holds such an important position.  But I can tell that he likes to joke and laugh.  And I love that kind of person. So combine that with his devastating good looks and I might be in serious trouble here.

“Oh, I don’t offend easily,” I promise him.  “Seriously, you can treat me like one of the guys.  Just pretend that I don’t have ovaries.”

He raises an eyebrow.  “Um, okay.  I’ll try that.  What I was coming back for, though, was to see if you had a file on our new client, Malochec?  I’d like to look through it.”

“Of course,” I tell him.  I buzz Taylor and asked her to bring it in.  She trots in a couple of minutes later and hands it to me and I pass it to Alex.  Our fingers touch and I feel a jolt of imaginary electricity.  He looks at me, seemingly oblivious. 

“Perfect,” he says. “I’ll see you in a few.”

I gather a few things and then follow him out, making my way to the conference room.  I am painfully aware of my raw crotch.  Unfortunately, the tea bags’ effect doesn’t last that long.  If I could limp without drawing attention to myself, I so would.

As it is, I walk stiffly in and take my normal seat. 

Alex sits across from me and I grab a pen to make notes.  I start the meeting as I usually do and allow the various managers to speak to their various points, current projects and so on.  I squirm uncomfortably in my seat for the duration, spreading my knees slightly to allow the cool air to brush over my girl.

I listen to Jack, Herb, Angela and Marla all speak.  I ask if there are any concerns that I need to know about.  I silently pray that there isn’t.  Everyone shakes their heads.  Like me, they just want to go about their business and end this meeting.  Not for the same reason, though, I’m sure.  So, I smile and turn to Alex.

“Would you like to end the meeting?”

And I’m surprised when I am speaking to his hunched back because he’s digging under the table.  I pause and he comes back up with a pen in his hand, his cheeks slightly flushed, probably from being upside down. 

“What?” he asks, seemingly flustered.

“I said, would you like to end the meeting?” I repeat politely. 

“Oh. Um, no.  I have a couple of questions for Herb and Angela, but I’ll come by your offices later in the day.   Everyone have a good Thursday!”

Everyone grabs their coffee and their notebooks and makes a mad dash for the door. Except for Alex.  He stays put and after everyone else has left, he turns to me. I don’t know what to make of his expression. It’s sort of amused, sort of confused, sort of shocked.  I’m intrigued as I wait for him to speak.

“Remember when you said that if you ever forget something again, not to hesitate to tell you, because you wouldn’t get offended?”

I nod, confused.  “Yes, since it was just this morning, I do remember that.”

He smiles.  “Great.  Because you seem to have forgotten your underwear today and I thought you might want to know.”

He picks up his coffee and strolls out of the conference room.

And I seriously want to effing die.

Chapter Ten

(Or: Embarrassment is a wine best served cold)

I storm as quickly as I can back to my office and pick up my phone.  I type so fast and furious that it actually hurts my texting finger.

You. Me. Wine. My patio.  Tonight. 

I send this to Sara. 

And then I add,
You’re lucky that I haven’t hired a hit man.

I stay in my office as much as I can all day for two reasons. 

1)
     
Because my crotch hurts too much to walk; and

2)
     
Because I will die if I have to look Alex in the eye right now.

I try to decide how best to handle this.  I can’t believe he saw my dainty lady bits from under the table and I am absolutely mortified.  Alex is going to think that I’m a flipping freak.  And I can’t believe that he even said anything!  But to be fair, I did tell him that I never get offended.  And that’s partially true. 

I’m not offended.

I’m humiliated. And there is a difference. 

Good Lord.

I re-position myself in my seat trying to stay off of said dainty lady bits.  I do a quick search online to see when I can expect the pain to subside.  Most articles say that the pain should’ve decreased after the first night.

Wrong.

I cringe as I move.

This is horrible. 

Absolutely freaking horrible.  And it is the last time I listen to Sara. Ever.

My pity-party is interrupted by Taylor knocking softly on my door.

“Hey, boss,” she says, coming in before I tell her to. “This was just delivered for you.  It says private, so I didn’t open it.”

She’s holding a little box with a card.  She’s clearly curious.  As am I. 

I take it from her and start to open the card before I realize that she’s waiting to see what it is.  I raise an eyebrow.

“Thank you,” I tell her. 

“Oh, no problem,” she answers.  She stays put, still waiting. 

“That will be all,” I say, hinting again .

She looks at me. 

“Oh!” her eyes widen.  “Okay.”

She turns around and walks out with a bewildered look on her face.  I can understand her confusion.  She has practically shared every part of my life since she came here.  She takes care of my calendar (including doctor’s appointments), and opens all of my mail, including the court papers from the divorce.  There has never been anything marked ‘Private’ before.  She’s dying to know what it is. And I am too.

I open the card.  Bold handwriting is scrawled across a linen card.

Alli Cat,

You said that you weren’t sure what you wanted.  So I decided that you need to connect with your inner Freak.  You need to let loose every once in a while.  It’s fun.  And it’s good for you.

Wear this on your date tomorrow night.  I will have the remote control with me.  Text me where you will be.  I’ll be there too. 

XX,

Shade 

I am instantly nervous as I open the little white box.  As well I should be.

A long silver egg slides out from the tissue and into my fingers.  It is cool to the touch and heavy.  I stare at it for a moment before I realize what it is.

It’s a vibrator.  And it’s meant to be worn internally.

Oh, sweet Mary.

I’m shaking my head as though Shade were here with me right now.  I’m not wearing this.  I’m not doing it. 

My phone buzzes.

Have you received my gift?

Shade.

I practically pant now.  Both from the gift and from the idea that Shade sent it and expects me to use it.

Yes.
I text back. 
And there’s no way in hell.
 

There is a pause.  Then a reply. 

You’ll do it.  Because you’re daring and fun.

I pause. 

Am I?  Daring and fun? 

Maybe once upon a time, back before Rick the Dick.  But being married to him sucked all of the fun out of life.  And out of me.

But you’re not married to him anymore
, I remind myself.  Shit.  Do I really need to do this to prove that I’m still daring and fun?  I mean, I already got a Brazilian wax and had sex with a gigolo.  But honestly, in the face of those things, this is a small little thing.  Right?  It’s just a tiny little vibrator.  How much of an impact could it possibly make?

I sigh.

Fine.
  I reply. 
I’ll do it.  I’ll text you the info later.

Think about me this afternoon
, he answers. 

I shake my head and put my phone away.  I can’t carry on like this at work.  I need to concentrate. 

Right after I go to the bathroom and rub a piece of ice on my crotch. 

By afternoon, and three pieces of ice later, Bald Brazilian (whom I have affectionately dubbed, BB) is feeling surprisingly better.  Apparently the websites that said that the pain should subside within twenty-four hours were right.  It doesn’t make me less irritated with Sara, but still.  It feels good to walk normally and in an upright position again.

Brian, however, is acting strange around me, which is precisely why I didn’t want to date someone from work in the first place. And I realize, too, that I haven’t gotten to the bottom of how Sara talked him into asking me out.

So I take a little trip to his office, which just so happens to be located on the second floor in Accounting.  Like me, he is an Executive Director and has a corner office. 

When I walk in, he is sitting with his head buried in a spreadsheet.  I sigh.

This is one of the reasons why I know that he and I would never click.  He’s a numbers guy.  I’m a creative girl.  I interact with him when I need to get his input on numbers for my projects, but other than that, we don’t even move in the same circles.  We don’t think the same way. Plus, he’s got a little coffee stain on his chest. 

And yes, I’m a bitch today.  But I knew that I would be going into the day.  And that probably means that I should call my vagina Bald Bitch, instead.  It’s ever so much more fitting.  Plus, I like it.  It makes me feel spunky. 

BB and I sit down and I have a little chat with Brian, who is boring, but still nice.  I insist that there’s no reason to act strangely, that we’re just going to dinner as friends.  He smiles and acts relieved and then admits that I intimidate him.

“I intimidate you?” I repeat, staring at him in confusion.  “Then why in the world would you ask me out?”  I pause, then smile.  “I forgot.  My friend Sara got to you. Tell me, Brian.  How exactly did she do that?”

“She friended me online,” Brian admits, somewhat sheepishly. “She’s very nice.”

“Oh, she certainly is,” I agree. “Especially when she wants something.”

“She said that she just wants you to get out more,” Brainy Brian shrugs, smiling his limp smile.  “She’s worried about you.”

I stare at him.  Then count to three.  “Well, there’s no need, is there?  You and I are going to dinner tomorrow night.  And I’m fine.  And I’m looking forward to dinner, by the way.  Where would you like to go?”

He looks blank.  “I’m not sure,” he answers.  “What do you like?”

I sigh.  I think Shade was right about me.  I would really like to date someone who will take charge for a while.  I’m sick of having to make all of the decisions, even about something so small as a restaurant. 

“How about Manini’s on twenty-first street?” I suggest.  “I love Italian.”

“I do, too,” Brian says.  His face is contorted in a weird way and I can’t really tell if he’s smiling or grimacing.  I choose to believe that it’s a grin.  “6:00?”

“That’s perfect,” I tell him, still staring at him, trying to decide. “I’ll just meet you there since I have to be somewhere later that evening.”

I leave Brian to his number-crunching. 

And by now, now that she isn’t on fire anymore, I’m starting to enjoy the smooth feeling of BB when I walk.  There might be something to this whole Brazilian thing.  I feel sexy as hell knowing that I am completely hairless. 

I’m a freaking vixen. 

********

I’m a freaking vixen who managed to stay clear of my new boss for the rest of the day. 

I am commending myself on that feat as I sit outdoors on my patio waiting for Sara to arrive.  I’ve got four bottles of red Moscato chilling in my fridge at this very moment and I am also making a mental note to buy a wine fridge at my earliest opportunity.  It’s a necessity in life, really.  It’s a need, not a want.

I
need
the option of having multiple bottles of wine pre-chilled at any given opportunity for nights just like this.  And again, that’s a need and not a want.  Obviously.

I lie back in the pool lounger and stare up at the dark sky and the glittering white stars.  I stare around the tiled pool, at the silent ripples on the water, at the waterfall that feeds into the pool, at the hot-tub that sits slightly above the pool. 

Hot tub.

My thoughts freeze, refusing to take another step past the hot tub. 

After my day, I obviously deserve to sit in the hot tub.  I quickly decide that BB has healed enough that the hot water won’t hurt.  I also, in my slightly inebriated state, decide that I’m too lazy to make the short walk into my house for a bathing suit.  I glance around briefly, deciding that the three foot tall fence provides enough privacy and step out of my clothing. 

I leave them in a puddle by my chair and walk buck-ass naked across the stone tiles toward the hot tub.  I take a bottle of wine and my glass…the important things.  I will worry about unimportant things, like towels, later.

I turn the hot tub on and step in, and the hot water bubbles up and around me, soothing my stress and worry away.  The heat doesn’t hurt BB at all, which she silently thanks me for. 

I am chin-deep in the water when I hear Sara calling for me.

I poke my head up and wave her over. 

“I didn’t bring my suit,” she tells me, standing above me. 

“You don’t need one,” I tell her.  “It’s only you and me.  I’ve seen you naked a hundred times before.” My thoughts are only a bit blurry now after one bottle of wine. 

“No?” Sara raises one thin eyebrow.  “Two naked women in one hot-tub?  What will your neighbors think?” 

She obviously doesn’t care since she is already stripping off her clothes. 

“Well, Mr. Darnell will think that he has won Lady Luck’s lottery,” I tell her with a grin.  “He’s always watching Sophie and me when we swim.  Perv.”

“Speaking of Sophie, where is she?” Sara asks as she settles into the water, across from me.  She props one leg up next to me as she sips her wine. I almost tell her that she needs to shave her legs, but decide against it.  She might decide that we’ll start getting our legs waxed too, which is insanity.