Page 92 of Fun Together
“You can’t be serious about this. What if someone else in the office finds them?”
“Then it’s their lucky day.” We laugh together.
“We’re at work. You work in HR for Christ’s sake!”
“If you’re too chicken, then forget it.”
We stare at each other for a couple of seconds, and I think she might actually be considering this. “How much time will you have to find them?” she asks.
My pulse quickens. Is she really going to do it? “Let’s say three hours?”
“Two,” she says.
“Two and a half,” I counter.
“Fine. Shake on it?” She holds her hand out.
“Kiss on it.” I grab her hand and bring her wrist up to my mouth and kiss it the way I want to kiss all over her body. I watch her watch me. I kiss her palm, and then the tips of each finger. “Just let me know when you’re done.”
It was way tooeasy to find them. So easy, I wonder if she placed them where she did because she knew it would be a no-brainer for me.
“Good update, Katie. Sounds like you’ve got some good leads. Eli, how are things going? Eli?”
Melissa’s question snaps me out of my daydream, and I force myself to be present for our weekly team meeting. We’ve been going around giving updates on current projects and I guess I missed that it’s my turn.
“Sorry about that, didn’t sleep well last night.”Because I was fantasizing about my best friend’s ex-girlfriend masturbating in the bath, as one does. In fact, funny story. I have her underwear in my pocket right now.
The first place I checked was behind the espresso machine, which was a stupid place to check because Faye would never put them in a high traffic area. Then I started thinking of places in the office where we’d interacted. The elevator? No. The stairwell? No.
Eventually, I went downstairs to the lobby and asked Tom if he had seen Faye down there at all since that morning. He said he saw her leave and head toward the back of the building a couple of hours ago, and that’s when I knew.
The duck pond.
And there they were, taped beneath the picnic table, sealed up in a sandwich bag and wrapped in a paper towel with the words “Return to Sender” written on it. This detail, for some reason, majorly turned me on. Something about her taking the time to do that, knowing that I would unwrap them.
I resist the urge to touch them in my pocket. They’re pale pink with little hearts on them, and it’s like they’re burning a hole through my pants, begging me to take them out. I can’t stop thinking about her sitting at her desk in that blue dress with no underwear on. How nice it would be to kneel down and slide my hands up?—
“. . . heard there was an interview set this week with an internal candidate?”
“Uh, yeah, yes. Faye Wilson. She’s worked here for several years, and the team is eager to speak with her.”
“Excellent. Can’t wait to hear more next week.” She stands up, indicating that the meeting is over. “And hopefully you’ll be able to get some sleep tonight.”
I doubt it.
I haven’t told Faye the game is over yet because I like the idea of her wondering what I’m doing. She’s so shy in person about anything sexual, but after last night, I want so badly to draw out that part of her.
After the team meeting, I get back to my desk and send her a text.
Eli: Too easy.
Faye: You found them already??
Eli: I think you wanted me to find them.
Faye: I would rather die.
Eli: Don’t be so dramatic.
