Page 55 of Flirtasaurus
So… I enter, peeking my head through the crack and peering cautiously into Dr. Knowles’ truly… shocking office. Seriously, it’s nothing at all like I expected. Not that I consciously imagined what her space would look like, but if I had? It certainly would not have been the Barbie Dream House cocoon of cozy I’m looking at right now.
Let’s break it down, shall we?
The walls are a deep Pepto pink. The floor has at least… seventy-four ivory shaggy faux lambskin rugs. They have to be faux, right? An animal lover like Dr. Knowles wouldn’t submit to the slaughter of at least seventy-four baby sheep simply so her floor feels like a slumber party, would she? Nah, no way. The furniture is not your typical dark, sleek office furniture. Nope, it’s all white and shabby chic. And there are framed photos on her bookcase featuring… it’s hard to tell from a distance. I really need to get my eyes checked, but they seem to be images of her with a salt-n-pepper-haired man and a golden retriever with a toothy smile. Could this tough-as-nails woman possibly have decorated this girly, whimsical office herself?
“Hi, Dr. Knowles. I appreciate you taking the time to see me this afternoon.”
“You appreciate it?”
My God, the woman’s face is like stone.
“I… do? Yes?”
“Is that a question or a statement?”
“A question. I mean, a statement. A statement. I’m always thrilled when I get to spend time learning from you.”
“Hm. That’s not the reaction I usually get when I summon someone to my office.”
Seriously. Not a single muscle on her entire face moves while she stares me down. And it is definitely not Botox. It’s a decision.
“Would you say you summoned me, though? It felt more like you… invited me.”
“No, I summoned you. Your performance review couldn’t wait another day.”
“It couldn’t?”
“No, it could not.”
She’s silent. Am I supposed to kick off this conversation? How the hell do I do that?
“I’m just curious… How did, um, how did you even, um, how did you know that I had arrived? I didn’t knock or anything. Do you have a door cam or something?”
“Nervous, Calliope?” Her head cocks to the side slightly, mirroring the image of what I presume is her dog in the frame directly behind her.
“Completely fucked in the head and out of my gourd nervous, yes sir. I mean, ma’am. I mean, Doctor. Apologies for the fuck just now. Forsayingfuck, I mean.”
“It’s understandable. And no, I do not have a door cam. I sensed your presence.”
“Oh. How did you—?”
“I’ve been a woman for quite a few years now, which means I have trained myself to be extremely aware of my surroundings at all times.”
“Oh that’s good, that’s—”
“But we do have cameras set up throughout the entire museum that see everything. Everything, Calliope.”
“Even inside the left ventricle of the giant heart?” I peep. “Because I checked, and I didn’t see one.”
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing, sir. I mean, ma’am. I mean, Doctor. I am incredibly sorry for my lapse in judgment in there. It won’t happen again, I promise. Please, I just really love this job, and I would be so incredibly grateful if we could—”
“Stop talking.”
“Sure!”
“Sit down.”
