Page 116 of Flirtasaurus
“Super hot!” Sasha says on a cough.
“…disrespectful to the museum, to its patrons, and to you, sir. I can assure you it will never happen again. I am ashamed and profoundly apologetic. Sir, this job—”
“Is no longer yours.”
Oh, shit.
“Of course, sir. I understand, sir,” Ralph says quietly and starts moving toward the door.
“Can I say something?” Bruce pipes up.
What on earth could Bruce possibly have to add to this horrifying turn of events?
Dr. Knowles tries to limit the fallout of whatever insanity is about to spill from his mouth. “Bruce, this is not up for discussion. Dr. Abrams’ decision is final. He is well within his bounds as the head of the Astronomy Department to terminate one of his employees who—”
“Sure, sure. I get that,” Bruce says with full seriousness. “But there were two people shooting the meat rocket into the sausage wallet in that video. And Ralph, though his moves were clearly top-notch… cheers, brother!” He offers Ralph a salute while Ralph averts his eyes and stares down at his shoes. “…we all know he was not batter-dipping the corndog alone. No, my friends, he most definitely was not. There was a lady up there engaged in gland to gland combat with him. And if you looked closely, as I most certainly did, you’d see that although she was otherwise completely unclothed, she had one of our trusty Museum of Natural Science lanyards hanging from her neck. Kinky, if you ask me, but to each his, or in this case, her own. In conclusion, that means that Ralph’s pelvic pinochle partner is one of us. Might be here in this very room.”
“Bruce,” Dr. Knowles warns.
“All I’m saying is it would be some serious reverse sexist bullshit if you can this man for doing squat thrusts in the cucumber patch, but you don’t also take down the lady who was riding the baloney pony.”
God. Damn. It.
I knew from day one that Bruce would be the end of me.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Dr. Knowles sighs, “but Bruce has a point. Whoever was… engaged in coital activities with this gentleman here… Bruce, by the way, your knowledge of sexual euphemisms is disturbing—”
“I thank you, ma’am,” he says while tipping an imaginary hat in her direction.
“Whoever that woman was… now is your time to come forward.”
I’m frozen.
I can’t come forward.
I can’t.
I should.
But I can’t.
I’ve worked too hard to get to this point. To finally have a smidge of recognition and trust from Dr. Knowles. Ralph knows that. He understands. Right?
“Ralph,” Dr. Abrams says, “please identify your… partner. Then we can all put this behind us and get back to our work.”
Ralph catches eyes with me for the most minuscule of moments, then looks away.
“Ralph?” Dr. Abrams presses.
“I’m sorry, sir, but no. I won’t do that.”
This man is my hero. I love him. It’s only been a few weeks, but I do. I am head over heels, ass crazy in love with him.
“I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!” Mabel shouts from the opposite side of the room.
What the hell?
“Miss McGonigle,” Dr. Knowles says. “You were the woman in this video with Mr. Anderson?”
