Page 52 of Worship
“No shit. Why do we work for this firm again? I keep saying it…”
Drew cuts her off, holding up a hand.
“I’m beginning to buy in.”
One night over margaritas, we’d joked about starting our own firm. But then we all moved up and the idea seemed to fall off the table. I enjoy the firm, but my department is more innovative than the others.
“If these meetings were an actual collaboration, I’d love them, but it’s an hour of ‘big dicking,’” I add.
Lyla giggles, and her eyes grow wide. “Gretch! Oh my god.”
I shrug in answer. She knows I’m right. Just a bunch of men who gather to talk about how important or big their departments are. Size only matters when it’s in reference to a dick.
And everyone knows that it’s me, Blair, and Drew who’ve put Cohen on the fucking map. We’re like Destiny’s Child after they dropped the fourth member.
Others begin to enter the room, and as we all sit, the meeting gets down to business. My mind is wandering while a very gray-headed man talks about how much his department is bringing in, when my phone lights up with a text. I casually put my hand over the phone to cover the screen and slide it closer to me on the table.
Waiting for a moment, I pull it into my lap and chance a look.
Luca: I can’t seem to find a translation for some things…
I smile and try to hide how giddy I’m feeling at him receiving my gift. I sent an Italian-to-English translation dictionary to his office with a note that read:For the next time you can’t find the words.
I return my focus to my meeting and nod along with whoever the fuck is speaking but then look down at my phone again and type out a reply.
Me: I was assured it was the absolute best, most current dictionary on the market.
His response is immediate.
Luca: Ah well, I’m looking for something very difficult to find.
Me: Like?
Luca: “Mettimelo dove vuoi” doesn’t have a translation.
Of course he would find a way to keep me in the dark. Jerk. I look back up again and try to focus, but all I can think of is returning the text.
Me: I can’t read in Italian either, Luca. What does it mean?
Luca: Maybe you needed this more than me? I guess “Metti il tuo cazzo dove vuoi” could work instead. Practice saying that.
Me: You’re still responding in Italian…you’re supposed to translate to English.
Luca: I’m not doing the dirty work for you. Maybe Google can help, baby.
My eyes widen with excitement. I hadn’t thought of that. Keeping my eyes up, biding my time, my knee bounces under the table. The waiting is making me crazy.
The boring gentleman from accounting requests the PowerPoint be set up, and I do backflips internally. I bring my phone to table level and copy his words, pulling up Google Translate and paste them in.
Holy shit.
“Put your cock wherever you want.”
I look back up to the table and down at my phone again, flipping it over so nobody can see. My finger taps the back of my phone as I make an attempt to concentrate on the meeting without the thoughts of his cock now floating around my dirty, filthy mind. Every once and a while, I pat my cheeks to relieve the burn that’s happening.
“You okay? You looked flushed,” Blair leans in to ask just as the lights dim.
“I’m a bit hot. It’s hot in here, right?” I whisper back, pouring myself a glass of water and taking a sip, hoping to put out the flames in my damn body.
