10: Tossing the Trojans
Gail’s dropping me off at Pete’s apartment the next morning felt just a bit like a drive-by dump, thanks to some meeting she said she couldn’t be late for. We pulled up to the building, and I got out from the street. Gail had leaned over so I could see her from the street, and said, “Bye, lover!” before she peeled off for business parts unknown.
I reflected on our now-typical wild night last night, as I made my way inside. Three times, I had tried to broach the Wonder Woman thing, and each time, Gail had started to…
do things… that promptly made me forget I was asking anything. After awhile, I came to the full understanding that the subject was off-limits, and gave up on it in order to enjoy the rest of the night. But I had gotten a strange impression, by about the fourth orgasm of the evening: I had the distinct feeling that Gail was holding back… something. Besides old nicknames, I mean. Although, frankly, it was hard for me to imagine what this woman could possibly not be giving me.
At any rate, we had gone at it until we’d collapsed and passed out, on opposite ends of the bathroom this time (I got the shower, while she ended up on the rug… gotta plan that better next time), and when I woke up, she was already washing up at the sink. As soon as she saw I was awake, she hustled me at my clothing, so she could drop me off on the way. I could tell she was in full businesswoman mode now, so I threw my stuff on, and followed her out when she was ready.
“One of these days,” I’d said on the way, “maybe I’ll visit your office.”
“I don’t think so, Romeo,” Gail had said. “It would give them the wrong impression.”
“Letting them think you have a boyfriend is giving them the wrong impression?”
“They don’t think I have a social life,” she’d replied. “Just work.”
I’d thought back on all the times she seemed to be able to get out of work during the day, to hang out with me or help some friend of hers. “How do you convince them of that?”
“By being very careful,” she’d said. “And I can’t afford for that to change right now. So for the time being, I’m afraid you won’t be coming to any office picnics.”
“Does your office actually have picnics?”
“No.”
I was still thinking about that, when the elevator door opened, and I stepped out on our floor. I entered Pete’s place, to find him out on the balcony… like he’d never moved since I’d left. No, strike that: The drink was a different color. So he’d moved at least once.
Pete twisted about when I came in. “Hey, Mike! How did everything go?”
“We pulled it off,” I replied, walking up to the balcony and leaning against the open glass door. “Inside job. The receptionist and the ex-receptionist were in on it together.”
“Kinky,” Pete smiled.
“Weird,” I said. “Apparently the ex-receptionist had a severe inferiority complex, exacerbated I guess by working with all those hardbodies in there. But if you get a good look at her, she’s got no reason to have a complex at all. And I hate to think that’s what made her go for the height-challenged guy…”
“Overcompensation, huh?” Pete nodded, and stared somberly into his drink. “Yeah, that can be hard to handle.”
“Yeah. Oh, by the way: Does Gail go by any nicknames?”
“Well,” Pete mused, “I’ve been using ‘B***h who ruined my life,’ but it doesn’t seem to stick.”
“Heh.” I started for the shower—after last night, I was a bit ripe—but before I left the balcony, I paused a moment. “You know, that Coyote Chow setup didn’t look bad. Lou seemed to like my work… she as much as told me to write my own check for this job. Maybe I should see if they need a full-time IT expert.”
“Not there,” Pete said. And he said it quickly. So quickly, in fact, that he winced, as if he was regretting that he’d said it so quickly. Yes, I noticed.
“Why not?” I asked. “Is there something about that place I should know about?”
“Well…” Pete paused a moment and shrugged. “I told you, I know Lou Chow, right? Well, take it from me… I really don’t think you’d want to work for her. I mean, she’s not an easy… person to deal with, know what I mean?”
“Not really.”
“Well, trust me on this,” Pete asserted. “You
really wouldn’t be happy there. Say, you’re a bit ripe. Why don’t you hit the showers, and then we’ll hit the beach?”
“Sure,” I said after a slight pause, and started for my bathroom.
I didn’t hear my brother, once I was out of earshot, saying to himself, “I have gotta introduce him to some
normal people…”
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