One eye popped blearily open, I check out the digital clock by my bed. Who in the hell is sending text messages at 4 in the morning? Somebody better need a kidney or have at least lost a major limb, I think to myself as I half fall off the bed to make the ringing stop. With a grunt of disgust, I pop open the phone. With one eye barely open and the other one deciding not to cooperate in the opening process, all I see is the symbol for picture mail.
"Whoop-de-fuckin'-doo, man!" My voice cracks with sleep and irritation. "Sending pictures of whatever-the-hell couldn't have waiting until the morning? Ugh!!!" Disgusted, I toss the phone on the bed and head for the bathroom. Might as well be productive if I am going to be up at this horrible hour. Refreshed and empty, I head back for the bed.
By now, both my damn eyes have decided to cooperate and I am still irritated but awake. "Fuck!" I throw myself across the bed and scream into my pillows. Momentarily, I get distracted because these new pillows are so firm and fluff. I think I am getting my money's wort....man..fuck that! I can't believe I am up and thinking about a pillow. UGH! I sit up and rearrange the pillows so that I can head back to sleep. Won't even think about the fact that I have now lost a good 15 minutes of sleep and I have to be up in an hour. As I am lying to myself and pulling the covers back up, the cell phone hits the floor.
Should I get it? Nah. Fuck 'em. Ain't shit that important at 4 a.m....
*********************
So twenty minutes later, I am crawling around the floor, trying to retrieve the cell phone from up under the bed. Lemme tell ya, if you are planning to get pissed about folks calling you at 4 a.m. and let the phone go under the bed, get one of those high numbers with the stairs. Don't go for the fru-fru chic ones from Scandinavia. You aren't getting under there. Anyhoo, I end up getting out the putter from my ex-boyfriend's golf bag. I knew these clubs would eventually come in handy. That is why I told him I sold 'em.
Breathing heavy, golf club thrown haphazardly in the closet next to my Jimmie Choos, I settle back on the bed with phone. Scrolling to the picture mail, I see a message from a number that I don't recognize. I cannot believe that my beautiful rest on my new 800 count pillows was interrupted by a message from a wrong number. I almost didn't open it, but, come on... What woman do you know that wouldn't have opened that message?
At first, I don't know what to make of it. And then, duh, it hits me. Somebody has sent some shots of their dick to someone. Unfortunately, they came to me instead. OK, maybe it wasn't unfortunate because this particular dick had the sexiest curve to the right that I had ever seen. And it was so thick and laced with veins. It looks so yummy, that I feel a twinge of regret that I don't know the guy attached to it.
Oddly, after seeing that picture mail, I was able to go right to sleep. For all of 13 minutes, I got to sleep. You talkin' 'bout a mad sista girl when that alarm went off. But, the thought of that pretty dick made me feel just a little bit better about the situation I was able to pull myself together and make it out of the bed with only a minimum of attitude.
*********************
The eight o'clock meeting with the department heads goes off without a hitch. My presentation about implementing new technology in our marketing strategies went over well. Since getting promoted to Director of Marketing, I have been waiting to be told in the meeting that it was all a mistake. They meant to give my job to the only other black person at my firm. He is my only real competition and makes me feel like a bug under a microscope. So, far though, other than Mr. Rodgers playing pocket pool while he looks down my cleavage and thinks I don't know, I haven't had any problems.
By the end of the day, I am feeling pooped. Issa, my secretary pops into my office to tell me she is leaving for the day. She and her girlfriends are heading to a spot known to be a new hot hang out for girls that dig girls. She has been giggling and talking in code on her cell phone in the bathroom all day, so I am glad to see her go. All that damn giggling was working my nerves.
I am packing up my briefcase when my line rings. Forgetting that Issa has already left for the day, I let it keep ringing. After 10 rings, I remember she is out trolling for chicks. "Lynn Walker speaking." I am trying to prop the phone up to my ear and grab for my keys at the same time. The phone wins. The keys land under my desk right out of reach of my now-seeking 3 inch heel.
"Hey, Lynn. This is Alejandro. Is Issa still there?" Great. Issa's boyfriend grilling me is not a good sign for her. "I tried her cell, but she must have forgotten to turn it on when she left the office." His big 6'8 gruffness is palpable through the phone.
"Hi Alejandro. Ya know, I think Issa might be in the restroom or copying something. I was just about to leave and I don't see her desk." I really hope this girl has some insurance. If I am going to have to develop stories for her boyfriend, she is going to have to put me in the will in case he chokes her out for cheating on him. "I will leave a sticky note on her computer before I head out though. Hey, and tell your mom I said hi! I loved it when she sent us all those pastries for my birthday last month. She is the best! Ciao." Who am I to bust up Issa's game? Hate the player, not the game, baby.
On my knees, I can't believe that I am trying to reach up under something tight yet again in less than 24 hours. I am going to have to get a breast reduction or something if I am going to have to start fitting up under all these low lying things.
"Man, I can't believe how wasted we were last night." Ward, the only other black person in my firm and my arch nemesis is loud and right outside my office door.
"You were wasted, my friend." Mr Rodgers, the company's head CEO laughs. "The rest of us were delightfully pleasant."
WHAT THE FUCK!!! I can't believe kiss-ass Ward is fraternizing with Mr. Rodgers after hours. I am so undone that I stop reaching for the keys to see what other little gems they will tell while standing right in front of my door.
"You didn't really let me send that picture did you?" I hear Mr. Rodgers laughing.
"Yes, I did, my boy." I have never heard Mr. Rodgers this laid back. He is always so gruff and short with me. "I am surprised that she didn't say anything about it to that secretary of hers about it."
"I am glad that she didn't." Ward was laughing but I could hear a little bit of anxiety in his voice when he talked. "Maybe she didn't even get the picture."
Mr. Rodgers pats Ward on the back. "If I had a dick half your size, I would be doing porn and taking all kinds of pictures of it."
Dick?.....DICK??? THEY ARE TALKING ABOUT A DICK SHOT??? No way... There is no way that the beautiful curved dick belonged to Ward. No fuckin' way...
"Excuse me?" Mr. Rodgers is now peering at me over the top of my desk. "Lynn, are you eavesdropping? That is most unprofessional." The gruff exterior is firmly back into place.
Trying to gracefully pop up from the floor, I try to make myself a little less wrinkled from writhing on the floor in search of my keys.
"No sir, I was not eavesdropping. I happen to drop my keys and was trying to retrieve them when you all stopped outside my door. I would never intentionally eavesdrop." I could see Ward standing the hallway trying to blend into the honey wood paneling. His eyes and mine met for an instant and I could see the truth. The picture that had been sent at 4 a.m. came from his phone. It was his dick.
Mr Rodgers is looking a little uncomfortable as well. But then, suddenly his eyes take on a gleam. The pocket pool gleam. "Do you need help getting them. The keys, that is. I notice that you don't have them yet." His eyes become a deeper blue and I notice that he is looking down at my breasts. I look down as well and see what has his attention. My white lacy bra is showing. Most of the time it is great being well-endowed. But at this moment, with my milk chocolate breasts heaving from exertion and confusion, it is embarrassing. Before I can declare myself capable of getting my own keys, Mr Rodgers tells Ward to come in and help me with getting the keys. Then, that dirty old coot walks out.
Talk about an uncomfortable moment. Me fumbling with the buttons of the blouse and Ward trying not to look. I look down and notice that one of the buttons have popped off and is under the desk as well. Well, shit! This is not my day! I hurriedly grab for my blazer and realize that I left it in my Saab convertible after lunch.
Ward looks as he is as uncomfortable as I am as he drops to the floor. His long fingers swoop up the keys and my button easily. In my next life, I want to be a man so that I won't get caught in another situation like this. Ugh!
With my keys in my hand, finally, I gather up my briefcase and what is left of my tattered dignity and wait for Ward to unfold himself off the floor. I have never noticed how tall he was before. That was because I was always trying to stay away from him so he couldn't knife me in the back with a little in-house sabotage. But right now, as he comes to stand next to me, I am having the little black midget feeling. At 5'2, I know I am short. But Ward has to be at least a good 6'6.
"Thanks for getting my keys. I will pay for your suit to be cleaned. I didn't mean for you to get down there in Armani, Ward." I cannot get out of there soon enough. I am just trying to get past that whole dick thing and get home to cover up my breasts at this point.
"Hey, Lynn. It is no problem." Ward looks as if he would rather be anywhere rather than here at this moment. "Have a good evening."