Page 70 of Touch Me

It’s then I notice a distinct rhythmic clicking noise. It’s faint at first, but moving closer, and getting louder. My teeth clench as I whip my head around, searching for the source of the sound that’s akin to a cartoon ticking time bomb increasing my heart rate with each audible click.

Jen mimics my movement as her eyes roll with a knowing head shake. “Please tell me that’s not Clicky Chloe.”

Alex sighs. “I don’t see her yet, but I hear her.”

“Who or what is a Clicky Chloe?” I ask.

“She’s a supervisor on the eighteenth floor. She doesn’t come around often, but when she does, you’ll hear her before you see her.” Alex sighs, slapping his laptop shut and rubbing his temples.

“Isn’t she done with all that by now? I mean, she started that like a year ago.” Jen looks over her shoulder, trying to spot the culprit. “How long does it take?”

“What is she trying to do?”

“She has this little fidget cube with buttons and switches and she’s using it to train her brain to think positively. Every time she has a positive thought, or someone tells her something good, she pushes a little button that clicks. She thinks eventually, she’ll be able to just click the button, and she’ll have only happy thoughts,” Jen explains. “That also means she clicks the thing when she has a negative thought, or someone says something she doesn’t like. Hence the constant clicking.”

“Are you telling me she’s trying to Pavlov herself?” My eyes bounce between the three of them, and they all nod.

“She’s already an embroidered pillow with legs as it is. Walking around likeTeamwork makes the dream workandYou’ll never succeed if you fail to start,barf.” Ashley puts her finger half-way down her throat and fakes a gag.

The clicking draws nearer, and I turn toward the sound. Mark Waters pokes his head out of his office door at the approaching sound and smiles. I stand to peek over the edge of the next cubicle and finally spot her. She’s a tiny pixie of a thing that probably weighs eighty-five pounds and has a Tinkerbell haircut. Mark says something, I’m assuming it’s gag-worthy, and does the little fingers under the chin thing so she can look up at him. We all hear a distinctclick.

“Eeewww,”we all say together.

“She’s really trying to program that dickbag into her brain?” Ashley shudders.

“He’s so gross,” Jen says.

My phone dings with a text and butterflies take flight when I see Jace’s name. Nothing like the elusiveI have something to show youtext to instantly elicit fantasies.

And I would love to see, good sir.

Floor supervisors roam freely, so after asking Jace to email me so it looks like I’m working, I fight the urge to put my computer in my lap, anticipating a naughty picture my brain has no business expecting. With my lips between my teeth, I barely hold back a sigh when the notification pings.

I don’t have as much luck holding back the gasp that leaves my mouth when I open the attachment. It’s a collage of four pictures set in a square. All four pictures are taken from under the pier with the ocean in the distance. The pictures on the right have the setting sun and a full moon perfectly centered in the stilted legs of the pier in the distance. The pictures on the left are the same, but they feel different, and I can’t quite figure out why.

Me:

Jace, these are gorgeous!

Jace:

Thanks. The right side is summer, and the left side is winter.

Me:

Amazing. I couldn’t quite figure out the difference. So beautiful.

Jace:

It took me five years. I just took the summer sun yesterday. It's only perfectly positioned under the pier a couple days a year.

Me:

And it took you five years to get it right?

Jace:

Well it was the only time I’ve been there when there weren’t people under the pier to obstruct the picture.

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