The Messenger

By

Lavinia Marksman

as

KC Blake

©2014 KC Blake. All Rights Reserved

Chapter 1

These kinds of meetings share a similar rhythm with sex: some innuendo, some back and forth, then after a bit of awkward interaction, someone comes out on top, while the other party more or less holds their breath waiting for a returned phone call. I’ve been running meetings like this for upwards of twenty years, and had long become acquainted with the signs of a deal, or a fuck, going bad.

In this particular meeting, for example, the red flags were waving like palm trees in the wind. If I didn’t know any better, I could’ve sworn that the guy at the other end of the conference table was going to cry. I began to hope it would happen, just to see something new for a change. I mean, they’d made so many mistakes. They let us choose the small conference room, for fuck’s sake. They had to have known that we’d use that to our advantage by using the small space to crowd them, to take turns standing up and pacing to give them the impression that they were in a cage with a wild animal. 

Or maybe, they’d made the fatal mistake of underestimating me because I’m a woman, or because I’m old enough to be most of their mothers. Whatever the case, this particular batch of young bucks came into my office expecting to pass over some insult of a deal, and we handed their asses back to them in a greasy paper bag. What did they expect? I’m what’s known, unaffectionately, as a ball-breaker in my industry. I’m the kind of CFO that inspires either nightmares or wet dreams, depending on if I’m on your side or not. Make even a single error and I’ll sniff it out like a bloodhound. All it took was a single terse glance from one of them to let me know that there were mistakes and miscalculations lurking within the offer like a virus. I didn’t even have to read it. 

“Tell me your numbers”, I began, knowing full well that they would begin making it up. 

“Uh… well… you’ll see our offer is more than generous… “

It was like blood in the water. 

“Tell me when you’d take the company public”, I asked. All I got in return was a hard swallow. I was already bored. 

“Tell me your projected overhead for your first quarter.” 

The wet behind the ears MBA only blinked.  

Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do. I’ve given this company my twenties and thirties. I survived layoffs and recessions by protecting this company with every ounce of resourcefulness I could muster. In return, I’m highly compensated. Not that I go in for the flashy stuff, but knowing that I could buy almost anything I wanted was as good as actually doing it. I’m more interested in the power than the money. 

Somehow, though, something had begun feeling different lately. There was something missing. It was beginning to feel like I’d been doing this for so long that it just wasn’t exciting anymore. How could I have ever thought I’d get bored with this job?

Mitchell, our CEO and my counterpart, noticed it as well. He popped into my office as soon as the meeting was over, and more demanded than asked that we go get a drink. While I never disclose what I’m thinking, I never turn down a drink. 

We walked to his favorite bar, a cavernous place that emulated a 1920’s speakeasy, right down to the flapper-girl bartenders and servers. He sidled up to the bar while I claimed us a small booth in the window. As he ordered, no doubt chatting up the bartender, pretty in a young, coltish kind of way, I looked outside as though something out there might have the answer to the question that had slowly begun unfolding itself.

To my dismay, there were no surprises on the other side of the glass. The same kinds of faces I saw day after day after day, tired and forlorn, no matter their color. The same weary shuffles, the same buses, all moving in the same rhythms. Just before I started planning a trip to some exotic country to go “find myself”, Mitchell returned, gin and tonics in hand. He looked disappointed. 

“Any luck with the filly behind the bar?”, I asked.

He looked surprised to be caught, but then shook his head sadly. 

“No joy. Maybe if I lost ten or fifteen pounds.”

“Or years”, I said, scoring the first friendly jab in our conversation, thereby setting into motion another sickeningly familiar rhythm, this time with someone who had known me for most of my adult life. Mitchell winced. Maybe that was a little close to the bone. 

“Yeah, you’re right. Maybe if I’d had that work done.” 

He began to gently pinch the flesh around his jawline. God, he’s as vain as a teenage girl, I thought. I didn’t know what nerve I’d hit, but I was beginning to feel guilty, like I’d unknowingly said something he’d heard me say in a nightmare. 

Not knowing what else to say, I started drinking. Thankfully, he followed suit. We sat in perfect silence. For a moment, I thought that this had indeed been an invitation for just a drink. 

“So I noticed something”, he began. Here we go, I thought. I didn’t even respond. I just swirled the ice around in my drink and gave him one of my unblinking gazes that told him to tread carefully. 

“Actually we noticed something… “

Now this was concerning. 

“We?” The only person Mitchell could mean was the managing board of the firm, the people who had founded this growing empire. Mitchell has become a de facto liaison between them and the rest of the executives, and wouldn’t let anyone forget about it. I feared disappointing them like I feared disappointing my parents. They’d hired me as a mail girl my freshman year of college and had nurtured me to heights I could never have imagined. My blood flashed cold for a second at the thought of me coming to their attention in a negative manner, but I didn’t dare let it show. 

“We noticed that you’re not as excited as you used to be. Don’t get me wrong, you’re still the fucking champ, but I’m asking you as a friend - you okay?”

How to begin? I looked around at the bar. Before I knew what was happening, I felt tears burning behind my eyes. What the fuck? I fought them back with everything I had. It felt like an unforgivable amount of time had passed before I could look at Mitchell again. 

“Things are great”, I lied, hoping that he’d buy it. He searched my face. The guy had known me for almost twenty years. I didn’t know how I’d wriggle out of this one.

“Well, that’s just fantastic, Lucy. The board will be thrilled to hear it.”

He downed the rest of his drink, holding up a finger to let me know that he had another round in him. He gathered up both our glasses and returned to the bar, emboldened to try again with the pretty bartender. I exhaled long and slow, feeling like I’d just survived some kind of weird interrogation. Somehow, Mitchell was on to me, sniffing out a problem before I’d wrapped my head around it. When Mitchell returned, I knew what my role was: I was to slag the competition and act like all I needed was some gin in me to be back to my old self. 

The real answer was, of course, to keep working. To work harder than ever before. It began to feel like a midlife crisis. Where some of my male counterparts might go buy a convertible or start fucking the babysitter, I resolved to work harder. I started pulling all-nighters again, like I did just out of college. It didn’t work. Somewhere in all the frenzy, I expected to find something to scratch this strange new itch that rendered me restless and cranky. It didn’t happen.

A few days later, as I paced my office in a kind of silent panic, a call came through from Margaret, my assistant. A document at the front needed my attention. Although I was doing nothing at all constructive, I bristled at the request to walk a few dozen feet to go sign my name, like she’d asked me to give her a pint of blood. 

“Too fucking busy, Margaret, have them send it registered mail.” I had important carpet to walk over again and again, after all. I expected Margaret to sigh and hang up, but instead, she hesitated. She never did that. 

“I already suggested that, Ms. McCleary. The messenger is… quite insistent that you sign in person.”

A messenger. Of course. Those dirty, bike-riding Socialists sometimes clomped in here like they were doing us a favor, when they were mostly just shedding their road grime all over the place. I could just about see one of them glaring at poor Margaret as she was trying to do her job. 

“Alright. Fine. I’ll be right there.”

I wasn’t any more willing to go out there, but I felt like I had to rescue Margaret. I straightened up my suit and stormed out, fully ready to take out my frustration on whichever gear-head had had the misfortune to boss my assistant around. 

I all but stomped out to the reception area, yanking doors open and taking long strides that probably made it look like I was stalking prey. All of that came to a stop, however, and was knocked completely out of my consciousness the minute I saw her. The messenger.   

Chapter Two

Like most of the other messengers who darted in and out of downtown traffic, this one wore tight jeans and a large, beaten bag slung over one shoulder. Unlike most other messengers, however, this one was female. Her bag was almost as big as her, but she didn’t seem to be bothered by the weight. Her jeans clung to her as though she’d been riding around in them for years. She wore a beaten black t-shirt advertising some kind of punk band, and wore fingerless gloves that gave her an air of toughness. As she twirled a pen in one hand, the long, taut muscles of her forearms rose and fell like a current just below the surface of water. Her skin was a rich olive, and glowed with the kind of health and strength that probably comes from having to fight against all manner of traffic every day. 

Everything about her, from her barely-controlled mop of jet-black hair, to the way she rested her weight on one hip, looked legit. So often, the kids we had coming into the office looked like they were going through a phase of their lives. Something in their eyes. Maybe it was the threat of constant vehicular death as they competed for space and time on the congested arteries of downtown. The messengers seemed to be divided into two camps: the ones who prided themselves on their wiliness, and those who prided themselves on their daring. 

You could tell them apart by watching them on the street. The wily ones escaped danger by anticipating a threat and darting around it. The other ones escaped danger by daring it to get them, by taking over lanes and muscling through it. This one standing before me was obviously one of those ones who didn’t ask for permission to enter your lane; she was one of the ones who simply took it. 

I don’t know why it shocked me so much that this pushy messenger was a woman - did I really assume that because Margaret was insistent, it meant that she was being pestered by a young man? Either way, this messenger, covered in road grime, had chosen the wrong day and the wrong woman’s assistant to fuck with, and I was all set to illustrate it when she turned and looked at me, squaring her shoulders as though readying for a fight. All at once I felt like I was coming face to face with an equal. It shocks me even now to say it, but as I squared my own shoulders in response and met her eye, which were almost a full foot lower than my own, I felt no dominance. 

“You need to sign this one”, she said, holding out a packing slip like there would be no question she’d get what she needed.

I need to? Who did this street rat think she was?

“You’re going to tell me what to do?”

“You want this package, you’re gonna sign.”

I studied her. She was not only a brute, she had a mouth on her. She didn’t know who she was talking to. She opened her bag and dropped the package in.

“What the fuck are you doing?” My voice rose higher than I’d intended. She buckled her bag. 

“You shouldn’t talk to people like that.” She turned and headed for the door. 

Margaret and I were stunned. 

“WAIT”, I yelled. What the hell was I thinking? I would like to say that I was totally in control, and knew exactly what I was doing. The truth was something else, though. The truth was that, unbeknownst to this young woman, as raw and unapologetic as a stray cat, she was some kind of last straw. I was either going to unload on her, taking out on her all the frustrations that had come with falling out of love with the only thing I’d ever been good at, or I was going to swallow my tongue, which would be an indicator of just how far I’d fallen. 

She turned. At one corner of her mouth, I swear I saw a faint hint of a smile. Beneath her thick black eyebrows, her dark eyes burned. If she wasn’t enjoying this, she was doing a good job of hiding it. She turned her palms out, as if to urge me to get on with it. I got ready to unleash my fury on her, but found that there was nothing. The tank was empty. 

“Fine. I’ll sign it. Bring it here.”

She covered the distance between us in two steps. She didn’t seem to take any pleasure in my acquiescence, which I appreciated. It fooled me into thinking I still had enough spark to threaten her. I said, in as menacing a tone as I could muster, 

“Your name. Your company. You’ll never get another call from us.”

She didn’t seem phased in the slightest.

“I ride for Bobby’s Messenger Service. And no worries, you’ve never called us. Your competitors do, because we get the job done.”

She waved the signed form in the air for emphasis, then headed for the door. Just as she grabbed the handle, she turned. 

“Oh, and my name’s Rabbit.”

“Rabbit?” Oh, come on.

“That’s how they know me. If you’re going to try and get me in trouble with my boss, that’s the name you’re going to use.”

She slipped out the door. 

“God, what a bitch”, Margaret said. 

For some strange, inexplicable reason, I felt compelled to defend Rabbit.

“She was just doing her job. She didn’t care who she was speaking to.”

Margaret sat back down. “Whatever”, she hissed. I returned to my office, but it was all over for me that day. I would get nothing done. 

And I would get even less done for the rest of the week, it turned out. Every time I stepped into my office, the place felt filthy, even the walls. I couldn’t get enough light into it. No matter what I did, the place didn’t feel right. I’d taken to haunting the doorways of my colleagues. 

It wasn’t until I was driving home one evening that I figured it out. A young woman on a bike was crowding the lane as I made my way over a hill. Although I’m normally the most careful driver around, I thought of Rabbit’s thick, confident thighs as I drove. Then, it hit me: although Rabbit hadn’t offended me, despite her apparent lack of respect, I couldn’t remember the last time someone had stood up to me. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had seen me as anything except the ball-busting, bitch on heels that I’d spent so long convincing other people that I was. Somehow, this “Rabbit” had seen right through all that. I began to wonder if it was all bullshit. 

As I made my way home that evening, as the sky deepened into the kind of azure reserved only for Southern California evenings, I felt shaken to my very core. Somehow, this Rabbit had seen into my soul. 

Chapter Three

Of course, the only logical course of action was to try once more to force those thoughts and feelings out of my head with work. A new project would be just the thing, I thought. Ideally, I’d be too consumed to feel anything for very long, let alone feelings that were totally foreign and discomfiting. The very next day, I launched a coup to acquire the company that had tried to acquire us the day that Rabbit showed up in the office. Somehow, I blamed them for it. Silly, I know, but the worst thing that could happen would be that we wouldn’t close a deal. The best thing that could happen would be me getting enough distance between these feelings and myself that they would cease altogether, not to mention getting the firm one step closer to total industry domination. It sounded like a win-win if I ever heard one. 

At the end of the day, I looked at my plans and achieved a kind of high from all the projected hours that would be involved. Is this what drugs are like? There was salvation in those hours; the more occupied my time was, the less I was vulnerable to those feelings creeping back up on me. Mitchell and his department looked over the project a few days later and gave the go-ahead. He grinned and called me, not unappreciatively, a vindictive bitch, and sent me on my way. By the end of the week, the memory of Rabbit’s eyes meeting mine with that frightening power began to fade. 

For a brief, haughty moment, I thought that I’d done it yet again, and had fooled my heart into trading work for feelings. Within a couple of days, I quickly learned that I couldn’t work those kinds of hours like I used to. Thoughts and words kept getting entangled with one another, rendering me exasperated, if not downright humiliated. It certainly didn’t help matters that when I tried to sleep at night, I thought of Rabbit. Her voice, husky for such a demure woman, lilting out of her perfectly formed mouth and sending words my way. 

It was disheartening, to say the least, like I was an athlete who’d played past her prime. I don’t know what happened, exactly; working like a demon had gotten me through the toughest times in my life. It felt a little like being abandoned by an old friend. Mitchell stopped by my office early one afternoon. He meandered around a bit, sticking his hands in his pockets and chewing on the inside of his lip. 

“Soooo… coming along well, I see… “, he began. Whatever was on his mind, I could tell I wouldn’t want to hear it. However, I wasn’t about to make it easy on the slick-haired fucker. I put my pen down and leaned back in my chair, throwing him the look I reserve for people who had better get to the point. 

“Look. We’re… oh, how do I say this?” he took one hand out of his pocket and whirled it around, as though he was hoping to blindly hit the words he was looking for.

“We’re a little worried. About the project. You holding up okay?”

I wasn’t expecting that. Even if I’d tried to keep throwing him my sardonic look, I doubt it would’ve made a difference. 

“Holding up?”

“Yeah… the board, well, they think you’re going after our competitors out of vengeance. Which, between you and me, isn’t a bad motivation at all. But personally, I think you’re running from something, Luce. I don’t know what it is, but you’ve got to deal with it. For your sake, if not for your career’s. Take the rest of the day off, and we’ll re-evaluate the project on Monday.”

Good old Mitchell, caring just enough to let me know there was a problem, but not enough to actually maybe get his hands dirty. It was when I began to wonder if Rabbit’s friends would’ve left her alone in such a state that I knew I had to get out of the office for a while. Reluctantly, I agreed. Mitchell smiled, apparently relieved that he could go back to the board and tell them that he’d accomplished his goal. As much as it pains me to admit it, I was actually glad to walk out of there that day. 

Had I known what I was going to see when I actually got outside, however, I might’ve insisted that everything was alright and finagled to stay at the office. After heading out, the siren call of a gin and tonic began to pull me towards my favorite seedy bar. I managed to focus my thoughts on the kind of gin I would request, and where I would sit in the cozy bar, which would undoubtedly be a cool, dark refuge from the harsh afternoon light. 

I was all but salivating when I caught myself studying a bike messenger hanging out in a small park. I’d never seen this one before; she was another young woman, a little taller than Rabbit. She had riotous pink streaks in her otherwise long, black hair. Like Rabbit, she wore tight fitting jeans that clung to her lithe figure. She sat cross-legged on a concrete bench, her hands dangling comfortably over her knees as she watched dogs frolic in the grass nearby. Something about the ease with which she smiled at them made me jealous of her. Her full lips framed a wide, bright smile. She seemed to be youth personified. For one unspeakably slimy moment, I imagined that if I were to somehow suddenly find myself nuzzling the crook between her hair and the long, soft line of her neck, I would inhale a sweet musk like I had never experienced. I felt like I was looking at a greek goddess in a moment of repose.   

 All my longing to send several gin and tonics down my gullet, as well as for the sweet, dark escape of the bar evaporated. I didn’t know anything about these thoughts suddenly tumbling about in my brain, and I needed to keep a clear head. Pretending to be interested in the dogs, I took a seat near the young woman. I watched her out of the corner of my eye, certain that she would catch me looking if I turned toward her even an inch. I felt like I was glowing like a lantern, and was helpless to quell it. 

After a few moments of watching other people come and go, I finally felt ready to get up and keep walking. I had no idea if I’d still be heading to the bar, but thankful to finally feel in control again, I stood. Before I could take a single step away from this embarrassing but engrossing moment, a familiar figure zipped by on a bike. Rabbit. 

She cruised through the grass like she owned the place, and laughed with delight at the ruckus it caused among the dogs in the park. She slowed down just enough to let them nip at her heels, giving them a sense of accomplishment. She came to a rest next to the young woman who had captivated me. I knew that I would be going nowhere soon. 

Effortlessly, Rabbit swung herself off the bike. For her part, the young woman turned her face toward Rabbit like a flower finding the sun, like she’d been waiting all day to see Rabbit. Rabbit said something to the girl, gesturing with that familiar gloved hand. 

The girl stood up. I thought she looked nervous; she ran her palms against the legs of her jeans and shuffled her feet. For a moment, she looked like an awkward teenager as she searched Rabbit’s face. It felt like a sin to be watching them like this, but I couldn’t look away. I can’t tell you what I was thinking, because all the thoughts in my head had turned to radio static.        

When Rabbit gently put her gloved hands on the girls slender hips, then leaned in to kiss her, my thoughts went from static to nuclear winter. My heart swelled, and not in a way that I recognized. I think I actually drew in a sharp breath, which caught the attention of a little terrier chewing on a tennis ball nearby. He looked at me with that quizzical look that dogs have. I was shaken. All I wanted in that moment was to be that slender hipped girl, held still by Rabbit’s gentle touch. My life had just changed, and the only witness to it was a skinny, wiry-haired dog.  

Rabbit finally released the girl and reached into a pouch in her bag, producing a thin cigar. She stuck it in her mouth and lit it like it was something she did every day. She moved in just the right way to be perfectly lit by the light reflecting off the glass-walled buildings. I felt like she was putting on a show just for me. On any other woman, the cigar might have seemed incongruous, but Rabbit owned it just like she owned the office when she walked in. Just like she owned me in that moment.    

Chapter Four

If you’re wondering why suddenly realizing that I ached for another woman was so life-altering, let me put it to you this way: I felt like I’d just looked in the mirror and saw a complete stranger staring back at me. As someone whose career had thrived on being able to look at myself each day with nothing but confidence and strength, this was a bit like upending a card table. 

No offense to those women who embrace their attraction to the same sex, but that just wasn’t me. It’s such a cliche, but some of my most respected friends and colleagues were lesbians. I would’ve had a tough time in the upper echelons of my industry if I had anything against lesbians, as the kind of woman who reaches such heights is the kind that makes her own rules and fears nothing. 

By my last count, more of my female competitors were lesbians than were not. I’d seen them around and even met many of their wives. They were just like anyone else in the industry, which is to their detriment as much as their credit; I knew exactly how conversations with them would go, exactly what jokes they would tell, exactly how they’d try to mine me for information. So maybe it shouldn’t be so surprising that I’d never had a moment with any of them like the one I had from afar with some women who were young enough to be my daughters. 

My first thought as I finally walked away from the park that afternoon, notably with a distinct warmth emanating from my crotch like a tiny sun, was that of utter confusion. What could this mean?, I wondered. Was it written all over my face? Was that was Mitchell was really trying to say, “We’ve noticed that you’ve gone homo, Lucy, why don’t you take the afternoon off to try and sort that out?”

The thoughts that followed, however, were ones of very cautious excitement. For all my nervousness about somehow being found out, there was a sense like I’d just discovered a whole new world that had been under my nose all along. It wasn’t the thought of clubs or bars or any kind of scene I could potentially join, but the feeling that I’d just pulled a lever in a bookcase to reveal a set of dark, mysterious stairs. I’d never been one to turn down a good mystery, or to let something as trifling as fear of the dark keep me from satisfying my curiosity. This, however, was something entirely different, because this time, the mystery was me. I wasn’t exactly sure if I wanted to know what was at the bottom of these stairs.

Somehow or other, I made my way back to the office. Although Mitchell had instructed me to take the rest of the day off, I knew better. It was a kind of test. Maybe a week ago, I would’ve called it a test of my dedication. Now, I wasn’t so sure. It seemed most likely that it was a test of my willingness to keep pushing myself, even when to do so could mean harm. 

Although the fresh air had been helpful, I was even more distracted than before. This time around, I didn’t even know what I was thinking. It was like all the power of focus had evaporated from my brain. I thought about doing the logical thing and going home to try again the next day, but I spied Mitchell walking around the floor, trying unsuccessfully to look like he wasn’t spying on me. While it was enjoyable to watch him make ham-fisted attempts at small talk with the assistants and the junior associates whose names he’d never bothered to learn, I knew that he was following up. 

So, I did my best. I made an honest effort to start working again, which was no small feat once I realized how little I actually cared if this deal went through or not. After a few minutes, Mitchell walked away from a nervous-looking associate. I assumed he was satisfied. I made a deal with myself that if I could get in just one more filing request for the day, it would be safe to go home.

Despite the wind-whipped feelings in my heart, I got my filing request done. I handed it off to Margaret and hurried back to my office to get ready to go. A small smattering of emails had to be answered, which I was not happy about. As I systematically went through them, Margaret called to me from her desk. 

“Lucy, we got a problem… “

The tone of her voice was concerning. It was like she thought we’d just sent out a bomb or something. 

“Can it wait?”, I yelled, still hoping to get to leave soon. 

She didn’t answer, which was her way of saying no, get your ass out here. I headed out to her desk to find her staring at our filing. 

“What’s wrong?”

“You push a rush on these, but you’re sending it to the wrong firm… “

I quickly did the math. It didn’t look good. Any information that fell into the wrong hands could spell disaster for not only my project, but for everyone else’s projects as well. While the mistake was not life-threatening, our industry thrives on exposing the cracks in one another’s armor. The last thing I wanted to be responsible for was a smattering of industry bloggers raising an alarm on us.

I stood there as though frozen, trying to rewind all my activities of the afternoon. What else could I have fucked up? I thought of all the emails that just went out, and struggled to see straight. In the twisted cinema of my mind, I saw awful mistakes that would make us the target of every bloodthirsty competitor. 

I didn't even notice it when the messenger came and grabbed the package from Margaret. 

“Uh, Luce?” Her voice sounded like it had danced across a taut clothesline between two tin cans. I was vaguely aware that I was looking at her. She gestured at the messenger, who was already halfway through the door, then held up her hands in the international gesture of what now, jerk? I quickly emerged from my fog like a diver coming to the surface too fast. My hands flew out from me like I thought I could throw them to get the messenger's attention. It was only then that I saw who the messenger was. 

Rabbit. 

If I'd had any breath in me then, it would've been knocked clear out of me. As it was, all I could do was squeak. 

“Hey!” I sounded like an aggravated mouse. 

Rabbit slowed down and looked over her shoulder, as though she wasn't sure she'd actually heard something. I gulped some air and tried to sound like a normal person.

“Wait! We need those back.” She turned to face me, but stood still. 

“What?”, she asked, incredulous. 

“We need them back”, I sputtered. “They’re wrong.”

Rabbit's perfectly groomed eyebrows knitted together. She took a few steps backward and pushed the elevator button.  

“Lady, once I log in a package, it's as good as delivered.” She held the thick envelope up for emphasis and dropped into her huge bag. I could hear the elevator making its way up. There would be no time. 

“Please.” I'm pretty sure I whimpered. 

Although my memory of this moment is clouded by all the things that have transpired between then and now, I swear that I saw Rabbit's eyes soften. She seemed to think for a minute. The elevator dinged. I thought for a second that she would walk away. With a gaze that told me she was already regretting it, she walked toward me and squeezed the two-way radio clipped to the strap of her bag. 

“Saul, this is Rabbit. I'm in the towers up on Grand with a hot potato. The suit's changed her mind. Requesting a void, over.”

Suit? It shouldn't have, but Rabbit calling me a suit stung me in a place I didn't know existed. She looked me right in the eye as she waited for a response. I couldn't read her. This girl was as mysterious as a shadow. After a moment, her radio crackled to life and confirmed the cancellation of the pick-up. With a smirk reminiscent of the one she gave the girl on the concrete bench, which careened my stomach into somersaults, she reached into her bag and presented me with the envelope. I took it and thanked her, fighting the temptation to touch her hand. Suddenly I became aware that I was blushing. Rabbit, for her part, looked intrigued. She raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Well. You have a good day or whatever”, she muttered. She turned and sauntered out, all her sense of urgency gone now that her mission had been cancelled. I wondered what she would do that all that energy. Margaret cleared her throat, as though she knew that she had just witnessed something. This woman missed nothing. She pursed her lips and sat down. I couldn't tell how much she was reading into it, and it would be a while until I found out. Standing behind me in the doorway to my office like some kind of office monster, was Mitchell.

Chapter Five

Mitchell held his hands clasped to his belly, like a soccer player defending against a penalty shot. All his earlier posturing of docility and concern had been just an act. He smirked at me for an uncomfortable moment before stepping aside and letting me back into my own office. He closed the door behind himself. This wasn’t going to be good. 

“I’m not spying on you or anything”, he said, as he pulled out a chair and sat. “But, I happened to be walking across the floor when I overheard your mishap with the file.” 

Although I tried to hold it back, I felt a long sigh escape me. Mitchell was the last person I’d wanted to witness my embarrassing little moment. There’d be no way I could spin this, so I took my seat and waited for him to get on with it, feeling suddenly like the office wasn’t my own territory anymore.

He looked at me expectantly. 

“Well? Anything you’d like to say?”

I felt like I’d been caught stealing or something; the sense of panic and failure that flashed through my mind was eerily reminiscent of the long-past days when my only job at this firm was to deliver the mail. I just shook my head. 

“Murphy, we can’t have sensitive information falling into the wrong hands, you know that.”

His condescending tone snapped me back to reality. I remembered that I wasn’t a lowly mail girl, and hadn’t been for many years. His attempt at bullying me wouldn’t go very far. 

“Really. I thought that we’d built this empire by distributing potentially career-ending information to anyone who bothered to ask.” 

“Sarcasm. Wonderful.”

Admittedly, he was right. I was just in no state of mind to behave appropriately. Rabbit’s gaze had bore a hole into me, and I hadn’t fully recovered.

“Alright, alright. It was just a mistake. Never happened before, never will again. And, we caught it. Just in time, but we caught it.”

He nodded slowly, as though that wouldn’t be good enough.

“See, that’s not all I’m concerned about. I’m a big picture guy, Lucy, you know that. When I see a mistake like this, I can’t help but wonder about all the mistakes that had to happen before all that.”

Shit. It was like he’d picked up my thoughts via transmitter. 

“To put it another way, I’m thinking we need to pull the project.” 

“Really. Is this coming from the board?”

At the mention of the board, he seemed to stiffen. My spider senses began to tingle. 

“No, not the board. In fact, no one knows about this little blunder. Yet.”

“Yet?” It sounded like a threat. 

“Yes, yet. I came to check on you of my own volition, as a friend. It was just… serendipitous that I happened to be in the right place at the right time to keep this from reaching the board.”

He smiled then. It was like being grinned at by a reptile. Mitchell and I had worked side by side for the better part of twenty years, and I’d never seen him like this. As though waiting for the right moment to strike, he held his gaze for a long, uncomfortable beat before continuing. 

“And as your friend, I’d like to offer to keep this between us, if you’ll do something for me.”

So there it was. I was almost afraid to ask, but there was a glaring problem in his attempted proposal.

“How would the board have found out?”

He winced and looked down at his hands. 

“That’s the sticky part about all this, Luce. I might feel obligated to tell them, out of interest for the company.”

“Are you blackmailing me?” My skin began to crawl. 

“Such a dirty word. I am most definitely not blackmailing you. I’m just offering you something you need, in exchange for something that I want.”

“Fine. What is it?”

“There’s a meeting tomorrow that I want you to take. It’s in the evening, at the bar in the Regency hotel. It’s the Viperion Group. You’re going to tell them that we can’t deliver the acquisition.”  

“Wait… isn’t that your project?”

It was a rhetorical question, of course. When he’d started working with this hot, new media company, he crowed about it for weeks. He had so many plans to take this company to the top, and made grandiose predictions that he was going to make them bigger than Apple. I vividly recalled how he strode through the hallways giving unsolicited updates on his work with them. It suddenly occurred to me that I couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken the chance to brag. 

He sighed and fidgeted. Although I felt no better about where this conversation was going, it was somehow comforting to see a glimmer of his usual awkward self. 

“Technically, yes. But, when you think about it, we should be taking responsibility for each other’s projects, right?”

He couldn’t even look me in the eye at that point. Instead, he pretended to be captivated with one of his fingernails. It was suddenly clear why he was demanding this of me. It flashed behind him in a neon sign that only I could see.

“Oh, Mitchell. You’re scared of them.”

He must have been expecting me to say that, because I could see the muscles of his jaw work as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. It looked painful. I wondered how long he’d been waiting for me to mess something up in order to have something to hold over my head, knowing full well that proving myself over and over was the only thing the drove me. That was one of the best and worst things about working so well with someone: they know what keeps you up at night. 

“My reasons aren’t really any of your business. Bottom line, you take this meeting, or I start carefully implying to the board that maybe their go-to shark is starting to lose her touch.”

He stood, and looked at me for a moment before heading for the door. I thought I saw some semblance of regret on his face, but it was probably more like relief that someone was going to do his dirty work for him.

As he took hold of the lever on my door, he turned. 

“I’m not going to make this offer again. I suggest you take it.” 

I swear he must’ve had a boner as he walked out. Knowing that bastard, it was probably the first erection he’d had in years.

Chapter Six

With the door closed behind Mitchell, and since Margaret knew better than to come in, my office was as quiet as a tomb. Despite the lazy brilliance of a late summer afternoon, it was dark there, as I’d never bothered to open the blinds that day. It hadn’t occurred to me to do so, and between being shot through the heart with some kind of barbed arrow by Rabbit, and being blackmailed for some petty concern by Mitchell, getting up to let in the light was simply more than I could bear, even though it was the only thing I really wanted then. 

Even the simplest thing felt like such a trial. It took me the better part of an hour to get my things together and get moving. There was still plenty of work to do, but now I knew better. I couldn’t take the risk of making yet another mistake, thereby adding chum to the water for Mitchell. Where I was normally so meticulous in packing up my bag and shutting things down for the evening, I simply dumped everything into a backpack I kept on hand, and turned off my computer. I gave Margaret a perfunctory nod as I walked past her desk to the elevator lobby. She raised an eyebrow that was at once sympathetic and suspicious. Her kids must not get away with anything, I thought, as I waited for the elevator. 

As I rode the elevator down, its smooth, noiseless descent kicked me into autopilot, for which I was endlessly grateful. Getting in the car and driving home would take no more thought than breathing. The familiar sights and freeway exits passed by in a blur. Before I knew it, I was home. However, it wasn’t long before the trouble started up again, and my thoughts turned once more to this nagging problem that sat upon my mind like a wet blanket. 

I walked throughout my condo as though I was haunting it. I’d filled the place up with the best money could buy of everything, but I was alone with nothing but my thoughts. A dreadful place to be. My mind had suddenly become a strange and foreign place. 

Although I went through the motions of a normal evening, I couldn’t shake my unease. Feeling mentally exhausted but physically restless, I elected for a good hard work out. I started on the treadmill. In no time, my heart was pounding and I'd entered an intense and familiar rhythm. After a few minutes at top speed, I lowered the intensity. Usually, I'd be staring out at the twinkling lights of downtown and letting my mind slowly float back to reality. This time, my mind went somewhere else entirely, to images that were far less real but far more vivid. 

I began to think of Rabbit. I hungered for her in the way that an animal might hunger for a mate. Where before I might have tried to derail that train of thought, now I simply let it happen. My mind, seemingly grateful for the permission to show me exactly what it was that I wanted, went to thoughts of Rabbit's long, coltish body. She seemed to simultaneously be composed of muscles and curves, and the few places where her skin, the color of perfectly creamed coffee, was exposed, she seemed to glow. I thought of the hint of collarbone that poked out from her t-shirt, and the soft, delicate line of her jaw. My stomach did a flip flop. 

I stopped running entirely, realizing that I was still out of breath not because of the treadmill, but because of the gnawing desire I had for Rabbit. I headed for the shower. I wanted her hands on my hips the way she'd put them on the girl in the park. If I'm being truly honest, I ached right then just to have her look at me one more time. Had anyone ever looked at me like that, like I was all at once an adversary and an object of desire? I'm sure there had been several men throughout my life who had, but there always seemed to be something of a territorial thing to it, like I would be just another conquest when all was said and done. 

The way Rabbit looked at me, on the other hand, was a stare of excitement. The fact that there might be something exciting about me to a young woman who didn't seem to give much of a shit about anything set my heart racing all over again. I got to the bathroom and peeled off my clothes, emboldened by the feeling of blood rushing through my muscles.  

As I waited for the shower to warm up, I dared a glance at my naked self in the mirror. Not going to lie, I was almost pleased with what I saw. For a woman of my age, which is none of your business, but which I can tell you is on the wrong side of forty, that's no small feat. My skin looked looser than I'd have liked in some places, but my frame looked strong, my biceps and hips, diminutive as they were, moved gracefully under my skin. In a word, I looked healthy. I realized that for as long as I could remember, I was as obsessed with my looks as any other woman, but had never actually considered what it meant for my body. How long had I ignored myself in this way? All my beauty products and treatments and cosmetics were simply to keep my looks from getting in the way of the success I was determined to earn. I was silently in awe of the fact that it took only a few subtly interested looks from a young punk to get me to think differently. 

Soon, the steam began to fog up the edges of the mirror, clouding the image of myself as though I was looking at an old photograph. I turned and stepped into the shower; all at once, the hot water stung my skin in the best way possible. It took my breath away and for a moment, cleared out every thought in my head. It was nice to have some quiet. Slowly, only one thought crept back in, as though I’d left every other concern on the other side of the curtain, along with all my sweaty clothes. 

Rabbit. She filled my thoughts. I wondered what her real name was, wondered how it would feel on my lips if I were to whisper it to her. I saw her in profile, with that stogie clamped confidently between her teeth. I thought of her confident gait, replaying her entrance into the office over and over again. As I scrubbed my increasingly sensitive skin, I imagined that she didn’t stop at Margaret’s desk, instead striding confidently into my office and fixing that gaze on me, stripping away my barriers with little more than a knowing look. She would set down her bag and I would take in the full sight of her, her straight shoulders and narrow waist, and the slight flare of her hips, that, when I saw them fully in my mind, framed in her worn jeans, sent a flutter of heat up from between my legs. 

I wanted Rabbit like nothing else then. I’d never been with a woman, but suddenly I knew what it was like to want one so desperately that my knees began to tremble. Daring myself to see how aroused I’d become, I put one trembling hand on my thatch. There was no mistaking it; I was dripping with something much different than shower water. 

One touch sent an electric trill throughout my body. It felt too good to stop. I hadn’t diddled myself in ages, but I went at it like a horny teenager then. I imagined that Rabbit came around to my side of my desk and sat on the edge, placing one foot on the arm of my chair. The very thought made me hungry. I imagined I could smell her captivating musk, and put my face right up against her, settling on my knees and clawing at her jeans while she ran her hands through my hair. 

I was getting close. Even if I’d wanted to, even if Mitchell himself suddenly pulled back the curtain with the entire board behind him, I wouldn’t have stopped. Before I knew it, I was coming; I leaned against the wall of the shower and held my breath. It was like riding a roller coaster and finally dropping into that first big dip that carries you through the rest of the ride. By the time I’d been able to catch my breath, the hot water was running out. Hastily, I slapped the water off and, although trembling from head to toe now, stepped out. I didn’t even bother to change into pajamas after drying off, simply slipping into bed and sleeping with deep, restorative sleep of the sexually sated, for probably the first time in my life.      

Chapter Seven

When I woke up the next morning, my poor, neglected honeypot still tingled with pleasure. Not even remembering the obligation that Mitchell had blackmailed me into could spoil the mood. I rolled over onto my back in my big empty bed and lightly ran my fingers over my naked body. I imagined that the lump in my comforter was Rabbit, and that she would emerge from the blanket to gently kiss me awake and begin exploring my body anew with her expert fingers. It was a nice thought, but realizing that the only person in the world who was expecting to hear from me was Mitchell brought me back down to earth. 

As I dressed, it vaguely occurred to me to get back into touch with my old college friends. I wondered about them with genuine interest. And when I stopped into my regular coffee place, I actually had a conversation with the young woman behind the counter. She mentioned something about her mother, which prompted me to call my own mother, just to say hello. The surprised joy in her voice lifted my spirits immeasurably. What I am trying to say here is that I didn't know what the hell was happening to me, but whatever it was, it was slowly urging me out of myself. I felt like I was heading toward something with a kind of inevitability. 

By the time I walked into the office, I knew I had a little smirk on my face, which went unnoticed by everyone but Margaret. When she saw me walk in, she raised an eyebrow. I did my best smooth operator impression and winked in response. She nearly spat out her coffee, which amused me all over again. As the day got underway, I could sense the usual gray somber mood settle over the office. I knew right away that I had to hide whatever it was that was glowing inside my chest. 

In an environment where everyone crossed their fingers when they spoke to one another, being outwardly happy for some indiscriminate reason was like Superman showing up for work at a kryptonite mine. It was fine to announce good news, like a birth or marriage or victory in the office fantasy football league, but having a smile on your face for no good reason would garner curiosity. Based on the kind of week I was having, attention was exactly what I did not want.  

So, I retreated to my office. I told Margaret I was going to spend the day doing research, which wasn't entirely a lie. Sure, I intended to work on my projects, but soon I found myself doing image searches for words like "lesbian", or "cute lesbian", terms searched for by teenage boys, or people who had ignorant ideas about lesbians, like me. 

To my surprise, lesbians sure weren't like the ones I knew in my college days, some twenty years ago. Back then, lesbians who were out of the closet were of the softball playing variety; big, strong girls who were brave enough to be themselves and not give one single fuck about what anyone thought about them. I always admired their bravery, even if I could never have imagined lusting after another woman the way I'd been transfixed by Rabbit. To say nothing of how much of a shock it was that I was trolling image searches for pictures of beautiful women.

Whenever someone knocked on my door, I reacted like a teenage boy being caught jerking off in the bathroom, quickly closing all my browser windows and acting like I’d been working extremely hard. Preposterous. I was almost glad when it came time to head out to take care of Mitchell’s dirty job. At least there, it would not only be easy to put on some kind of face and hide what I was truly thinking, it would be my job. 

As I packed up, it occurred to me that I hadn’t actually seen Mitchell all day. It wasn’t a bad thing, just unusual, seeing as how he’d been hovering over me like a smog all week. I was about to chalk it up to a stroke of good luck, when he suddenly appeared in my doorway like a vampire. 

“You haven’t left yet?” He sounded scandalized.

I explained that it was still a solid hour before the appointed time, and that I would be waiting for his soon to be ex-clients. I even told him what route I was taking, so that he could mentally calculate exactly when I would arrive. I thought that that would satisfy him, but he followed me all the way out to the street, like a tiny, annoying dog. If I’d had a dollar for every time he asked me if I was sure about what I was going to say, I could have probably afforded to skip the whole affair to go have a nice steak dinner. Thankfully, at some point he’d decided he’d met some invisible boundary and stopped following me. I looked back into his tense, artificially tanned face and gave a little salute as I walked away. 

Although I was more or less on autopilot on the way to the hotel, something stopped me from entering once I got there. My hand hovered over the ornate handle on the elaborate door for a moment, as though something was waiting for me inside, something that I didn’t want to encounter. It wasn’t anything malicious, and it didn’t feel harmful. It was more like I felt like I was heading for the wrong exit on the freeway. My gut was trying to tell me something, it seemed, but I couldn’t figure what just yet. I stepped away from the door and looked into the windows at the bar inside. 

The place looked sleepy. Mitchell’s soon to be disappointed clients were already there, looking down at their phones as though they were already searching for new business ventures. It would have probably made my job easier, but I still didn’t want to go inside. It wasn’t until I looked at the adjacent building that I learned what was keeping me out. 

The building right next to the hotel housed a dive bar. Just outside its door, a battered and familiar bike was locked to the rack. Rabbit’s bike. I couldn’t be sure that she was in there, but the rollicking yet soulful music floating out of the propped door seemed to fit her, almost like a theme song that she probably carried with her.  

If Rabbit wasn't in there, similar girls definitely would be, I told myself. Nothing wrong with seeing the real thing after an afternoon of image searching. Try as I might, I couldn't even look back at the hotel bar. I was pulled toward the sultry dive as though by magnetic field. It was like I didn't really have a choice. 

Chapter Eight

Somewhere in the back of my head, I'm sure I wondered what was going to happen as Mitchell's clients slowly realized that they'd been stood up, but none of that mattered as I walked into the bar. I pushed through the filthy, ancient velvet curtain. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the low light, that world of clients and multi-million dollar contracts and people like Mitchell slowly melted away. It was replaced by the somehow comforting smell that well-loved dive bars seem to have, and with the sense that the people here were all in some way known to one another. It was like walking into the house of an old friend, although maybe that’s because it reminded me very much of Moe’s Tavern from the Simpsons. 

The bar itself was situated along one wall in the small room. Small groups of young people of indeterminate gender congregated in the booths along the opposite wall. Everyone seemed to be pawing at one another, either out of playfulness or intimacy. It was interesting, these gentle gestures coming from people who wore chains around their waists. 

The bartender raised a gray fuzzy caterpillar of an eyebrow as I claimed a barstool and sat. He seemed to look at me with surprise, but truthfully, I could've looked at him in the same manner. He looked like more of a teamster, or maybe a grizzled ex-cop, than a bartender in a place like this. I expected him to shuffle by and take my drink order, but instead he turned away and attended to a young woman with a Mohawk and facial piercings. I'm not going to lie, it was surprising; I was too used to getting preferential treatment wherever I went. Instead of dwelling on it I took a moment to look around. No Rabbit. Plenty of girls I could imagine as her contemporaries, but not her. 

As Mohawk waited for her drink, she eyed me with equal measures of suspicion and curiosity. I wasn't used to standing out like this, but truthfully, I was enjoying it. I felt like a visitor to different, fascinating planet. Mohawk got her drink and rejoined her friends. The bartender seemed to think about it for a moment, then finally came over to take my drink order. I was about to request my standby, a gin and tonic, when a familiar voice barked out a different order mere inches from me. 

It was Rabbit, who had somehow materialized as though out of ether. She ordered a beer on tap. Because I was so pleasantly shocked to see her, I didn’t get a chance to place my order before the bartender shuffled away. 

“He’ll get you in a minute”, she said with the confidence of a regular. 

I didn’t know what to say in response. Was that even something you’re supposed to respond to? I cleared my throat and tried not to turn myself too much to face her, for fear of possibly saying or doing something to embarrass myself. I was all nerves, suddenly. The old man behind the bar couldn’t move fast enough for my taste. Rabbit leaned up against the bar, stretching out her hands on the wood. It was the first time I’d seen her ungloved hands, and I couldn’t stop looking at them. She had a spray of stars tattooed on her left hand, which trailed gracefully from the webbing between her thumb and index finger and ended at the delicate bone of her wrist. 

It’s funny, in retrospect, how the finest details of her are what got me so hooked. As I would soon find out, the lovely, thin delicate lines of her hands would be only one of the many things that would eventually comprise my devotion. The bartender returned and handed Rabbit her beer. He looked at me almost begrudgingly, as though he would take my order, but only because he had nothing better to do just then. I told him what I wanted, then watched as he shuffled away once more. 

Rabbit maintained her post beside me, despite having received her beer. I dared a glance to my side and saw her lightly running the pad of one fingertip through the foamy head. She looked at it almost lovingly, like she was teasing some lucky woman. The thought made me blush, but I didn’t quite look away. She brought the beer to her lips and held her gaze at me over the rim of the glass. Something was happening, but I didn’t know what. I only knew that I didn’t want it to end; I was trying to get stuck in this moment, where we seemed to be the only people in the bar. As far as I was concerned, everything around us went dull and fuzzy and my heart thrilled at the fact that I was closer to Rabbit than I had ever been.  

She leaned against the bar once more, and I was vaguely aware that I began to lean toward her. I couldn’t help myself. She didn’t move away. It didn’t seem possible that she was unaware of my creeping, which set my heart pounding. Did she really want me to be as close to her as I did? Before deciding to test my luck further, I stopped just as I felt her sleeve, which was rolled up to her elbow, touching my own. It may be just my imagination, but I swear I could feel her warmth, and could almost smell the salt of her skin. It was all I could do to keep my composure; inside, I was writhing. I wanted to rip this girl’s clothes off and feel every inch of her skin against mine. I would’ve done anything just to hear her whisper my name. The girl had no idea, the sea change she’d begun inside me.

When the shifty bartender returned with my drink, it was the first time in history that I was disappointed to have a gin and tonic set before me. For some reason, I felt like Rabbit would take it as her cue to leave. I looked at the drink mournfully for a moment before asking what I owed. 

“Seven dollars.” 

Fair enough, I thought. Not quite a happy hour price, but I’d definitely seen worse. I reached for my wallet, when Rabbit swallowed a gulp of beer and announced, 

“I’ll get it, Jake.”

I froze in my tracks. And for as long as I live, I will regret the next thing that came out of my mouth.

“No! Can you even afford that?”

Both Jake and Rabbit looked at me like I’d just sprouted an ear on my forehead. I felt like the whole bar had turned to stare at me. Suddenly a realization washed over me like a wave; I was being patronizing in the most awful way, assuming that she was poor just because she was a messenger, a position I just assumed was lowly and poorly paid. Even worse, I was undoing whatever had intertwined between us. 

Rabbit put her drink down and looked at me, probably searching my face for a reason why I would’ve said something so stupid. Jake skittered away, moving faster than I would’ve thought possible for him. My mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. I began to wish that the barstool was an ejector seat. 

“Shame you can’t buy any common sense with all that money you apparently have.”

Ouch. She slapped a twenty on the bar and rejoined her friends. I worried for a second that she would point me out and that they would all turn to face me with looks similar to the one she gave me, but they carried on none the wiser of my existence, or of the ignorant thing I’d said to their friend. Rabbit must have been right; common sense would dictate that I should remove myself from the bar immediately, but I lingered instead, nursing my drink and letting the music and overheard conversations envelope me like a cloud.  

Chapter Nine

About halfway through my drink, I felt my phone buzz in my purse. Oh, right. The meeting I’d never gone to. I peeked at it. It was Mitchell. The phone felt like an intrusion from a world I was actively trying to block out, so without answering, I turned it off and dropped it unceremoniously into my bag. All that stuff could wait. For now, I was just enjoying the view as the bar became more crowded, and was all but packed with happy, chattering young people. They were so full of life, drinking to have a good time, instead of drinking to escape, which is what a drink had become to me many years ago. Some of them I recognized as bike messengers. I wondered how many of them had come through my office, without so much as a second glance from me. 

Finally, I felt it was time to go. I would have to face the music sooner or later, and got up to leave just as my second gin and tonic began to warm my veins. As I took a moment outside to let my eyes adjust to the evening light, Rabbit spilled out of the club door. She looked embarrassed to have been caught hurrying. She approached me, quickly pulling herself back to her usual cool self. 

“Hey.”

“Hi.” I considered playing it cool, but I was still ashamed by what I’d said to her.

“Look”, I began. “I didn’t mean to… suppose, I guess you’d call it, earlier. It was a sucky thing to say. I’m sorry.”

Rabbit looked down at her feet. I couldn’t tell if she accepted my apology, but if the butterflies taking flight anew in my belly were any indication, I was just glad that she was still standing there. 

“Yeah, it was pretty sucky”, she agreed, kicking around some discarded cigarette butts on the asphalt. “But, it was kind of sucky for me to assume you wanted me to cover your drink. I didn’t mean to be so forward. Can we start over?” 

Start over? So she thought something had been started? She looked at me, training her gaze into that spot in my gut that only she seemed to have access to. I would’ve said yes to anything. I swallowed hard and involuntarily looked down at my feet, like I was a freshman in high school all over again. 

“Sure”, I said, hoping that she couldn’t hear a tremble in my voice. I held out my hand. 

“Lucy Murphy.”

She smiled and shook my hand, sending little electric sparks up my arm. 

“Elena Acevedo.”

Elena. Elena. How many times has that name tumbled through my lips since then?

“Not Rabbit?”

She shook her head and smiled. That smile, perfectly framed in her face. I still see that singular smile in my dreams. 

“No, that’s just what they call me.”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

She gestured to the bar, but I got the impression that she meant all of downtown.

“Them. Co-workers, friends, people who know me a certain way.”

That made my heart sink a little. It was presumptuous, of course, to think that I might be anything else to her than someone who’d been nothing but cold and insulting, but I wanted to actually mean something to this young woman. I nodded as though we’d just agreed on something. 

“Well, nice to meet you, Elena”, I said, turning to leave. Maybe I’d see her around sometime, I thought. However, I didn’t get more than a few steps away before she called out. 

“Hey!”

I turned around. She gave a disapproving look to a bouncer that had come out to guard the door and was overseeing our conversation, then jogged over to me. I could tell that she was nervous.

“I… I don’t know how to say this. But, since I saw you sitting at the bar, the only thoughts in my head have been of you.”

She swallowed hard and looked at her hands. My brain was scrambled. She seemed like she was gathering up all her courage, then looked back up at me, piercing me with those dark eyes. 

“And if I don’t kiss you tonight I think I am going to explode.”

Without another word, and before I could chicken out, I leaned down and kissed her. Our lips fit perfectly together. Instantly my desire began to boil over, and I found myself pulling her close to me. She was surprisingly supple, giving in and melting against me. Just as quickly as our kiss began, she pulled away. I was confused. 

“I’m sorry - was that… I’ve never kissed another woman, I don’t - “

She shook her head and held a hand up to quiet me. 

“No, it’s not that at all. It’s just… fuck, this is crazy… “

Elena leaned in close. 

“I’ve never done this before, but… if I asked you to follow me home, would you?”

I’d never gotten back to my car so quickly. Elena was right, this was indeed crazy, but I was in full-on heat by that moment. I had no idea what awaited me at her place, or what I would do. I only knew that I needed to get there as quickly as possible. I waited in my car until she appeared on her bike as though from a vision. She led me out of downtown. As we stopped for lights and she planted one foot on the ground, I felt like we had a delicious secret between us. I watched her intently, studying how she navigated traffic with a sense of authority and toughness. I felt oddly territorial. This woman is mine, I thought, even if only for tonight. I wondered if it was what men feel when they know a woman will have them. 

Once we were out of downtown, she led me into the hills above the trendy, bohemian neighborhood of the city. I’d been through the neighborhood countless times, but had never really thought it about it. It was amazing, that simply following her through it got me to appreciate it in a whole new way. As the streets got increasingly steep, she had to stand up to pedal in some spots, and I absorbed the sight of her perfect heart-shaped ass. God, I was lecherous, and was enjoying every second of it.

Finally, she pointed at a driveway and dismounted her bike. By the time I parked and got out of the car, she was already inside, but had left the door open. I followed, as though trailing an enticing sent. Her building was Spanish style, probably from the 1920’s, probably a one-time love nest for a silent film star. Very romantic. A steep stairway led up to her apartment. As I went up, I could hear her putting things away, opening and closing drawers. I guess she wasn’t counting on company that night, which was somehow charming to me. 

When I got in, I gently closed the door behind me. For a moment, I was worried that I would have second thoughts, and that the true impulsiveness of following this strange woman home would finally reveal itself. But, when she emerged from the hallway wearing only her jeans and a look of unmistakable desire, that all went away. Every inch of my body knew exactly what to do. 

We wasted no time; she walked into my arms and lifted her face to mine. When our lips touched I felt it throughout my entire body. I was electrified with plain, animal lust, and couldn’t hold her close enough. When she gently licked my lips with just the tip of her soft tongue, my knees all but buckled. She pulled away just a little, and gave me a devilish smile. She knew exactly what she was doing to me, which made me want her even more. 

She took my hand and led me to her bedroom. I was only vaguely aware of the art and books all over her apartment. Maybe there would be time for a tour later, but for now, we shared only one purpose. The only light in the room was the gentle orange glow from the streetlight outside, which accentuated every curve of her body. She looked like a living work of art. Instinctually, I slowly ran the fingertips of my left hand over her hip, up the curve of her torso, then across her delicate looking collarbone, where I could feel her pulse pounding. 

She sighed, then took my hand in hers and kissed my palm. She turned my hand over and gently licked the spot between my index and middle finger, setting off tiny fireworks between my legs. Releasing my hand, she set to work undoing my blouse. She must have been some kind of expert at that kind of thing, because before I knew it, I was down to my bra and panties. She pulled me close, pressing her hip against the spot where I cared for it most. 

She undid my bra like a magician. Suddenly feeling her naked breasts against my own was like discovering a new world. We tumbled onto her bed in a movement that would’ve been hilarious if not for our shared sense of urgency. I pressed my lips against hers once more and, gathering all my courage, took her in hand through her jeans. We both cried out; I could feel how wet she was, even though the tough fabric. I had to get at what awaited me there. I went to undo her pants, but she stopped me. 

“Not yet”, she whispered. 

She then pressed her fingers against my own, guiding me to use my middle and ring finger to massage her through the jeans. She was impossibly wet. After a few moments of kissing her, our tongues dancing and exploring, she put her hand down my panties and with one deft motion, had them off me. We giggled like schoolgirls, then she flipped me onto my back. She gently opened my legs and gave me a mischievous look as she stroked my thighs. She leaned forward and licked my hard nipple. I shivered with pleasure.

“You ever had a blow job, Lucy?”, she murmured.

I could barely comprehend language at that point.

“Hm, yea-yeah, no, I… “

She laughed. 

“I bet you’ve never had one by someone who actually knew how to lick your pussy… ”

She sounded like she was on a personal mission. Ever so gently, she kissed my landing strip, then ran her tongue from the top of it, all the way down. I cried out. She gently shushed me. 

“Poor thing… “

For a moment, she must have been watching my lips open up for her. I could feel myself getting even wetter, and I couldn’t stop myself from writhing in anticipation. 

Finally, she ran her tongue across my clit. My hips bucked and I cried out in ecstasy, but this time she didn’t sush me. She went right to work, settling herself between my legs and burying her face in my honeypot. I looked down at her relished the sight of her diddling herself as she pleasured me. Although her eyes were closed, the look on her face suggested she was in a trance. I could feel her inhaling my musk and slipping her tongue inside me. 

I couldn’t get enough; I grabbed her hair and began to fuck her mouth, and she made no move to stop me. I could tell that I was moaning and yelping extremely loudly, but couldn’t have stopped if I’d tried. In a matter of minutes, I came so hard that my ears popped. My hips bucked wildly, but she held on and never took her mouth off me, even though she was in the throes of her own intense climax. When I finally stopped coming, she gently kissed my swollen clit and rested her head on my belly. I recall brushing the hair away from her forehead before falling into the deepest sleep I’d ever known. 

Chapter Ten  

I don’t know how long I slept. It was probably the first time in my life that I’d woken without an alarm clock. The sun glowed meekly through the roman blinds in the window, gently rousing me even though I probably could’ve lied there for countless more hours. There was the requisite moment of panic from waking up in a strange place, which was tempered by the happy, relaxed feeling still coursing through my veins like an opiate. 

I looked to my side and saw Elena. She was lying on her stomach and snoozing. With the sheet wrapped around her naked body, she looked so young that I began to feel a little guilty, but then I remembered the expert way she’d handled me. She was no innocent.

She began to stir. For a second I was worried that she’d never intended for me to sleep over. I flashed back to all the times I’d made sure to let my latest encounter know that he wasn’t welcome to stay mere minutes after our fun was over. She opened her eyes. I tried to prepare myself to not take it personally if she told me I should leave, but if I’m being honest, it was the last thing I wanted to hear. I wanted to smell her skin again. I wanted to know everything about her. If I’d been a smarter woman, I might have realized that I was falling in love with her then. 

She wriggled one arm free from the sheet and wrapped it around me. I can’t remember the last time anyone had made such a sweet and gentle gesture toward me. Her arm felt warm and good and heavy, like a security blanket. 

“Hi”, she mumbled. 

I couldn’t help but smile. “Hi.”

“I’m glad you stayed.”

She pulled me close. Without thinking about it, I ran my fingers along her back, a surprisingly intimate thing. It felt startlingly normal. I looked around her room. It was spartan, with only a dresser, one nightstand and a lamp as her furniture. The walls were adorned with art, and a piles of books climbed up the whitewashed walls. I felt like I’d woken up in an artist’s garret. She caught me looking. 

“What do you think of those?” She gestured toward the canvases.

I didn’t know if I should lie. They certainly looked pretty, but I couldn’t make heads or tails of them.

“I… enjoy them.”

She laughed.

“You’re such a bad liar.”

I thought that was interesting; I’d made an entire hugely successful career of doing things that could be considered a lighter shade of lying. We gently stroked one another for a few more minutes. A thought suddenly occurred to me, one that I wish I could’ve tapped a delete button on. 

“Hey… the next time you come to the office, it’s maybe best that we don’t, you know, acknowledge one another”, I said, for some unknown reason.

She stopped stroking me and raised her head. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it wouldn’t look right.”

“Wouldn’t look right?”

I knew I had to explain myself, but truthfully, I didn’t know what I was saying. 

“Look, you might not understand what it is that I do, but it depends a lot on appearances, not only to my clients but to my staff. If a messenger came in, looking like you do, and acted familiar with me — “

She pulled away and looked at me with equal measures of disgust and bewilderment. 

“What do you think I’m going to do? Show up with a bouquet of roses or something?”

“No, but you understand, right, it wouldn’t be appropriate.”

She rolled over and sat up, clutching the sheet around her chest as though she was suddenly embarrassed.  

“You know, I wasn’t expecting a relationship or anything, but I didn’t think you’d be such a… such a… tourist.”

She didn’t even have to explain it. The word “tourist” cut me deep. Somehow, I needed to make her understand that this attraction, while primal and undeniable, was not based on some kind of ignorant assumption about who she was, just based on the color of her skin or her chosen profession. She had me so scrambled inside that I was saying things the exact opposite of how I meant them. I felt like my superpower had been wrested from my hands.  

“You can show yourself out.”

She got up, throwing the sheets behind her, and stormed into the bathroom. I heard the shower begin running. Although I was bewildered, and spent an embarrassing amount of time sitting up in Elena’s bed wondering what had just happened, I knew better than to be around when the water shut off. I hunted around for my clothes. Somehow, my panties had ended up clear across the room. I quickly got dressed and made my way out. When I closed the door behind myself, I made sure to test the lock. Despite being kicked out and feeling like she’d probably spit on me the next time she saw me, I wanted to make sure she’d be safe. 

The drive back down the hill felt windier than the trip up had been the night before. Probably because Elena was guiding me, and as long as I’d kept my eye on her sweet little ass, I didn’t notice how small the streets were, or how all the curves were blind. Slowly, I made my way down and joined the throngs of commuters on their way into downtown. Suddenly, I remembered that I’d skipped out on Mitchell’s meeting. I pulled off at a coffee shop to try and come up with a plan. 

My phone charged up right away, faster than I think I’d ever seen it. Traitor, I thought. 

As soon as it booted up, I saw an ungodly number of messages waiting for me. None of them could possibly be good. The regret weighed on me like a wet coat. What the hell had I been thinking? Who was this middle-aged woman staring back at me in the rearview mirror? I forced myself to watch the traffic go by for what felt like half an hour, hoping to get lost in its hypnotic rhythm. 

When I looked at the time, however, only a few minutes had passed. I knew I had to face the music sometime, and had to accept the consequences of the choices I’d made the previous evening. What better way to gird myself for the messages awaiting me than with a coffee and a bear claw? 

Both the pastry and the coffee were substandard, and were not much comfort as I played through the messages. I put my phone on speaker; although angry voices might fill my car, it was somehow more appealing than having them blasted directly into my ear. The first few, unsurprisingly, were from Mitchell. They began around an hour into the abandoned meeting.  

His voice was shrill and panicked, like an elf who’d dropped a mallet on his foot. He was upset, understandably. After the first few messages that began with him screeching at me, I started to skip them. The last one, time-stamped well into the early hours of the morning, was of Mitchell slurring his words and spewing abuse at me. He must have gone home and had himself a hell of a drinking session, because he neglected to hang up after calling me a bitch for the tenth time in the message. The remainder of the recording was of him snoring. 

There was one more message left. It had been left around the time I was being unceremoniously booted from Elena’s apartment, which told me that it probably wasn’t Mitchell. I played it and the voice in the message nearly made me choke on my tepid coffee. It was Barbara Copper, the matriarch of our corporation, the only person the board answered to. She’d single handedly taken the company to Fortune 500 status, and the rest of us labored constantly to match her brilliance. I’d met her only a handful of times in my career; she was the type to keep a hand out of the business unless it was absolutely called for. She asked me to come to her office that afternoon, then promptly ended the call. It was like being paged by the Great and Terrible Oz. 

My thoughts raced. Had Mitchell been informing on me? Was I fired? I didn’t know what to do. Going straight to the office was out of the question. I realized that I wished I could go back to Elena’s place. I actually laughed. The only logical thing to do was to go home and do my best to clean myself up. I had been up and down so many times in the last twelve hours that I looked a fright. 

Plus, I had an almost superstitious faith that looking the part would help me keep my composure amid all the uncertainty that was facing me. I seemed to have misplaced all my nerve and cunning, and felt that it might be hiding for me in the pocket of one of my well-pressed suits.  

Chapter Eleven  

Despite putting on what I considered to be my game face and my uniform, nerves were still jittering from within my bones as I made my way up to Mrs. Copper’s office. I'd never been fired from anything before; any job I'd ever left had been to make some great leap upward. However, I was glad that it would be her doing the firing, and not Mitchell. If it'd been up to him, I'm sure he'd have done it by meandering around my office with his hands stuffed into his pockets, going on and on about how "sorry" he was, while barely concealing a look of glee behind his beady little eyes. Granted, I had no idea how Barbara would deliver the blow, but I imagined that at least it would be done with a little more class. 

As I sat in the lobby, I realized that I hadn't actually seen or heard Mitchell when I'd stopped by my office. It seemed strange; it was more like him to be lying in wait for me to give me the business, if not to gloat that I was being called on the carpet for letting him down. I just assumed that he was too hung-over to rub my face in it. It was dreadfully quiet, a stark contrast to our floor, where phones were constantly ringing and people hollered to one another instead of actually getting up. I should've bothered to prepare a speech of some sort, but I didn't; I deserved what was coming to me. I found myself longing for Elena the way one might long for a security blanket. 

Finally, the big wooden door opened up. I expected to see a secretary, but it was Mrs. Copper herself. She was a sprightly old lady, and greeted me with a surprisingly firm handshake. There was no maliciousness in her bright, blue, twinkling eyes, despite the fact that she’d likely learned some unsavory things about me recently. She led me into her office, which, to my surprise, wasn't much different than mine, albeit with a much better view. 

She must have noticed me gawking, because she chuckled and said, "Well, we must move you to a better location if you're this impressed with the view of the mountains."

Was she testing me? I didn't know what to say. Why would she talk of moving me if she'd probably called me up here to give me the chop? She studied me for a moment, then tapped on a manila folder on her immaculate desktop. I felt like my whole career was somehow inside that folder.

"I didn't build this company by being well-versed in small talk, Ms. Murphy, so I'll get right to the point. It's come to my attention that you skipped out on a meeting arranged by your colleague."

“That’s right.”

“What did you know about this meeting going into it?”

I racked my brain. No matter what I said, I knew that it would sound like a lie. I told her that all I knew was that Mitchell was backing out of a deal. As to the particulars of the aborted deal, I had no idea. She looked down at the file, then turned her gaze out the window. 

“Is that all you knew?”

The way she said it made me question what I’d just said, as though I could no longer trust myself. I only nodded, before my mouth went off spouting words, just to have something to say in response. She stopped me with one wave of her delicate hand. 

“I believe you. I didn’t think you had anything to do with it.”

I felt like I was missing something. 

“With… what, ma’am?”

She smiled and leaned forward. There was that twinkle in her eye again. 

“Well, it turns out that Mitchell was telling some tales to our clients. I don’t know how much I’m technically allowed to tell you, but considering that it nearly cost you your career as well, I feel it would be unfair not to fill you in.”

The wheels were turning now. Just what the hell was going on?

“The long and short of it is that Mitchell was conducting something of a Ponzi scheme, in-house. Promising payoffs to one startup while pocketing money from another for jobs he hadn’t completed. Those boys you were supposed to meet with last night were the alarm we could no longer ignore - they got in touch with me directly yesterday and told me what Mitchell had promised them. It was dismaying, to say the least.”

She gave me a second to let that sink in. It was like suddenly, all the pieces of a puzzle I didn’t know I’d been assembling came together. Everything Mitchell had done in the past few months made sense: all the veiled threats, all the offers to be the intermediary between me and the board. They were all efforts to get me to do work on his behalf, in order to keep his scheme afloat. 

“Had you gone to that meeting, Ms. Murphy, you would have been implicated as well. And you would be out on the street right now, with Mitchell. Now, the rest of the board tried to talk me out of calling you in for a meeting, but I told them that I had a good feeling about you.”

She leaned back in her chair. I felt like a third grader in the principal’s office. 

“I’ve watched your progress since you joined us, you know. You are a bulldog. I told the board that you simply didn’t have the time to get caught up in this kind of bullshit.”

She smiled. 

“I… that’s right.”

I realized, with no small measure of relief, that I was telling the truth. She excused me. Just as I got to the door, she called to me. I turned around.

“The board will probably ask me a bunch of stupid questions again, but I’ve decided to give you Mitchell’s accounts. It’s a tremendous amount of clean up, but if you’re up for it, you’ll be making more money than you ever have before. Are you interested?”

She seemed to be studying me, as though looking for any signs of fear or trepidation. I was back in my element; there was no scaring me away from work. 

“I am indeed, ma’am. I’ll get started on Monday.” 

She slapped the file and gave a modest little war whoop. 

“Hot damn, I knew I was right about you. Happy trails, Murphy, see you on Monday.”

She placed the file back into a drawer in her desk and spun around happily in her chair. She’d gone out on a limb for me. I made my way out of the office. Although my career had taken another great leap forward, work was the last thing on my mind.   

Chapter Twelve

Elena. The only person, the only word on my mind as I walked out of the office as though it had been imploding all around me. I knew that the people on my floor would be clamoring for news, so I purposely avoided everyone, taking the stairs all the way down to the street. By the time I got out onto the sizzling sidewalk, my legs were trembling, but I couldn’t tell if it was entirely from the exertion, or if it was my fervent, bone-deep desire to find Elena. I had the odd urge to give her the money I knew was coming to me from the new contracts, but I also had an inkling that that would just make it worse. As I began my search, I decided that that would be one of the things I would need to work on. 

And it was at that moment that I realized I loved her. I was already making such ostentatious plans as realizing a problem I needed to fix in myself, all for a person who had just kicked me out of her apartment that morning. A new problem had arisen, one that I couldn’t throw money at. I had to find Elena, and I had to convince her that I wasn’t the tourist she had come to believe I was. 

But, that raised another question: who, what, was I? Was I gay? Did I need to be able to answer that before I could expect her to talk to me? Was it, could it ever be, enough to know that she was all I wanted, that in a life-changing moment, all I wanted in the world was to see her face?

I decided that I didn’t have time to answer all those questions; I needed to see her. I headed toward the dive bar. It seemed impossible that less than twenty-four hours ago, we’d had our first conversation. The place seemed to have lost some of its magic. In that moment, it looked like just another dingy place in the center of a city full of other dingy places. There was a whole different crowd there, blue-collar types who all seemed to be drinking a shot and a beer. It was like the bar I’d seen the day before had been some kind of mirage. One thing looked familiar, though: the shuffling bartender.

He saw me and there was an amused light in his eyes. I prayed that he would take pity on me and approached the bar.

“Can’t get enough of us, eh, lady?”, he said. 

I didn’t know what to say. Could I really ask if he knew where Elena might be? I looked around. He seemed to read my mind.

“Those kids who were here yesterday? They only come around on Wednesdays and Fridays. It’s like they adopted us.”

“How did you know?”, I asked.

He leaned against the bar and looked almost sympathetic. 

“I know that look in your eye. You don’t stand on this side of a bar for forty years and not know when someone comes in looking for a girl.”

I’m pretty sure I blushed. If I’d been close to giving up, I would have kept ordering drinks and pouring out my heart to him. He’d known me all of a day and already treated me with more respect than Mitchell ever had. As it was, however, I was only getting started. If she wasn’t here, I had no idea where to look. The thought of giving up crossed my mind, until he said, 

“Try messenger alley down on ninth.”

“Messenger alley?”

“Sure, it’s where they all work. Lemmee guess: you’ve never been down there… “

I hadn’t been below sixth street in over twelve years. Twenty years ago, that area was nothing but low-lifes and criminals. I would brave that again if it meant I could see Elena. I thanked him and headed out, making the turn southward before I had a chance to talk myself out of it. 

Slowly, the terrain of downtown changed. As I hurried down the street, the buildings went from the shining towers that I was used to, to old bank buildings repurposed into high-end lofts, to small, hip bars housed inside tiny spaces. Although there was no official signage, I knew I’d arrived in Messenger Alley when I saw hip young people lounging at the tiny sidewalk cafes, one foot or hand draped protectively over their scarred and battered bikes. It was as though I’d passed through different levels of a world and had finally arrived at the secret society within. 

However, I also knew that I was something of an interloper there; I was one of the people that treated them like office equipment, one of those who saw them as nothing more than a delivery device who summoned them up from the depths when I needed them. Whatever I was going to do here, needed to be done fast. I stopped and assessed the situation. I wasn’t leaving without some kind of lead. 

I spotted a familiar girl at one of the cafes. Although she was dressed in a nondescript grey sweatshirt and worn, faded jeans, she was still ultra feminine and very beautiful. She was the girl Elena had kissed in the park that day. I might have been projecting, but to me she looked like she was pining for her, just as I was. Mustering up all my nerve, I approached her. 

“Uh… excuse me”, I stammered. 

She looked up from her worn paperback novel and looked surprised, as though she thought she might be in trouble for messing up a delivery. 

“Yeah?”, she said, wary. 

“I’m looking for someone, maybe you know her?” I wanted to add, “She kissed you in the dog park the other day and you looked like you were about to explode in to a million tiny pieces”, but I restrained myself. She just tilted her head as though she couldn’t believe that someone would ask such a stupid question.

“Her name’s Elena. She’s a messenger. She has short black hair, a tattoo of stars on her left hand… “

Her eyebrows shot up. 

“Elena?”

“Yes”, I said. 

“That’s her name? I only know her as Rabbit.”

She looked sad that she hadn’t already known that. I felt bad for exposing that hole in whatever connection they had, but I was also soaring inside. Apparently her real name was a secret. In my head, I was saying her name over and over again. Elena, Elena, Elena. 

“Yeah, well. I need to see her.”

“Is she in trouble?”

“No, I just need her, I mean… “ I decided against correcting myself. It was the truth, after all. 

“I don’t know where she hangs out. I haven’t seen her in like, days.” 

 The girl shuffled her feet and looked stricken, as though she’d just realized she didn’t mean to Elena what she thought she did. I turned around, close to tears. I felt like I’d misplaced a winning lottery ticket. The girl called out to me. When I returned to her, she looked down, but I could tell she had tears in her eyes. 

“Are you… that lady from tower on Grand?”

My heart beat in my chest like the speakers at the bar. Elena had talked about me. I could only nod. The girl seemed to take it like she admitted defeat. She put her hands in her pocket and seemed to shrink into herself. 

“She’s probably at the shops. Down that alley.” She gestured to and alley around the corner. I felt for her, but I needed to find Elena. 

The alley was narrow; if I hadn’t been directed here, I would never have known it existed. It was lined with messenger headquarters and bike repair shops. As I passed each one, conversations between the messengers momentarily came to a halt. In my expensive suit and watch that cost more than most of them made in a few months, it was obvious that I didn’t belong there. I got to the end of the alley. No Elena. I stood there for a moment, wrapping my fingers around the grimy chain link fence. It might be time to give up, I thought. 

I made the trek all the way back to my car in a haze, with no idea what I’d do with the rest of my day, or my life, for that matter. Every thought or plan that presented itself left my mind as quickly as it had appeared. Stalling for time before I had to face whatever would come next, I looked up at the shining towers where I’d learned to become something that was no longer familiar to me. 

Suddenly, though, I began to feel grateful. Grateful for all the turmoil I’d been in recently. It reminded me of the life still thrumming through my veins. Even if I never got to see Elena again, or feel her plump lips against mine, every tiny moment of excitement was a gift. I had to be thankful for at least that. As I was getting into my car, Elena came to a skidding halt on her bike mere feet away. She was out of breath. She’d come after me.

It was funny. After all this feverish searching, I had no idea what I’d say. I only gazed at her, as though it would be the last time. Thankfully, she spoke first, after getting a handle on her breath. 

“I told myself I wasn’t gonna chase you… “

I nodded. She seemed to be winding up to give me more of a talking-to. I didn’t know if I still deserved it at that point, but I was such a mess that it was enough just to have her attention, however briefly.  

“But, if I’m being honest, I was worried I would never see you again. There’s something about you, Lucy Murphy. I see you in my head even when you’re not around. Do you know the first time I came to your office?”

I shook my head. It felt awful. 

“It was almost a year ago. You came out and signed for a package. You looked like someone I knew, even if I’d never met you before. It was strange. But, every time since then, I’d gone there hoping to see you. I… I think you’re beautiful in a way I’ve never seen before.”

Inside, I was reeling. What else in my life had passed me by?

“Did I ever speak to you before this week?”, I asked, knowing full well that the answer was no. I just couldn’t believe that all this time, I could’ve had Elena but was too wrapped up in my work to have seen it. Could this have been the feeling of unease?

She shook her head, then pretended to examine the chain at her feet. 

“I’m so sorry”, I said, tears beginning to well up in my eyes. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cried, much less out of regret for pain I might’ve caused someone else. She shook her head again, seeming to search for something to say.

“Nah… I know I don’t make it easy. Look, I don’t know if this is a good idea or not, but, can we try one more time? I promise not to be such a sensitive flower anymore, if you promise to be a little more open minded.”

I laughed, sending my tears rolling down my face. Elena gracefully dismounted her bike and approached me. She gently placed her tough, gloved hand around the back of my neck and pulled me close to her, kissing away my tears. When she pulled away, she gave me a smile and a look that electrified me. I thought of her soft, coffee colored nipples and got the chills. We could iron out the details of what we each needed to work on, but for now, I needed to hold this girl’s naked body close to me, as soon and for as long as humanly possible.  

“Can we try at your place again… right now?” 

She grinned and remounted her bike. 

“Race you”, she said. 

KC Blake is the pen name of Lavinia Marksman, who writes the Corporate Cougar series, available here: http://tinyurl.com/mch3a6e. 

Thank you very much for taking a chance on my story. As an independent author, reviews are the lifeblood by which I gauge my successes and failures. If you have enjoyed this story, please take a moment to leave a review. If you would like to contact me for any reason, feel free to leave me an email at: laviniamarksman@gmail.com

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