The following weeks were difficult not only for Vanessa but for everyone in the office. She was, as one person put it, constantly on the 'war path'. These were periodic moods of hers, and, unknown to her associates and subordinates, always corresponded to those times, when she went 'prowling' and let out her 'Nessa' personality.
In the wake of this past experience, she was more determined than ever to keep 'Nessa' under wraps and just get all that 'shit', as she described it, under control. She had, to use her own words, 'prowled' for the last time.
A part of her mind still insisted that the incident with Dave and his middle aged, rednecked pals was the hottest sexual encounter that she could remember. But she suppressed that kind of knowledge or acknowledgement also. She simply set it aside and went into one of her periodic celibacy periods. (Is how she referred to them.) The result was almost always the same: her energy was put into work and making sure that the work was being done timely and in as correct a fashion as humanly possible.
During those weeks, she ruled her roost at work and made constant demands on the crew that worked under her. She got results also! People tiptoed around her and tried to anticipate what was wanted or needed, in order to not come under her withering stare.
Her newly shaved head only leant to the whole mystique. It made her look more formidable, in a way, and exotic. It simply added to the 'hard assed' image that she was interested in projecting at work.
Part of this syndrome, that had become so normal for Vanessa that she didn't notice how difficult she was being, was brought home to her by her secretary, Gail. It was that time of the morning, when she'd been giving Gail instructions about the day's events. As Gail was leaving the office she ventured, and was perhaps the only one in the office that could get away with it:
"Are you okay, Ms J?"
Vanessa looked up and smiled; she did like Gail very much.
"Why, yes, why?" Vanessa asked.
"You seem to have been so much on edge these past weeks," Gail answered.
Vanessa sucked in a soft breath, realizing that Gail had indeed picked up on the storm and stress within her for the past few weeks, since her latest 'prowl'.
"It's nothing," Vanessa said, with a smile, "Just some personal things, and they are fine now."
"I must say," Gail continued, changing the subject to a more pleasant one,"That those lovely hoop earrings are marvelous with your new look."
Vanessa looked up at Gail a look of inquiry on her face.
"I mean the shaved head look and all; very mysterious, really exotic, and the loop earrings that you've been wearing really add to the look. I like it!"
Vanessa was prodded out of her personal reveries by what Gail had said. She said 'thank you' with a smile and Gail was gone. It was only then that she realized the truth of what Gail had said: she had been wearing those earrings, 'his earrings' every day since she'd gotten them.
"Ohhhh," Vanessa moaned and sat in her chair. She didn't like this; didn't like this at all. She spoke to herself then:
"Ignore the earrings, tomorrow I'll wear different ones; it means nothing, nothing at all."
She sat back in her chair feeling more satisfied that she'd allowed herself that little reverie but had a momentary notion that maybe it was more than the 'nothing' that she proclaimed it to be. She shoved that thought back into the dark closets of her mind as quickly as possible and got on with work.
The next morning Gail greeted her with her customary cheery politeness: "Wearing your loops! I see! Lovely!"
Vanessa tried not to look shocked but when she got into her office, she simply leaned against the door with her hand over her eyes.
"Done it again, girl!" she said severely to herself. "Wearing his earrings! Damn it! Straighten up!"
But the major shock for Vanessa was still to come that day. It was in the afternoon that Gail buzzed Vanessa on the intercom to tell her that Mr David Ross was there to see her. Vanessa didn't immediately recognize the name but thought that he might be a sales rep, since some of her suppliers had indicated that they'd be sending new reps to see her.
She got up from her desk and walked forward, as the door opened and Dave from her 'Nessa' evening encounter entered her office. Vanessa was too shocked to say anything right away.
He stood and let the shock settle in, only smiling at her.
Finally, Vanessa pushed her shock away and said softly:
"Mr. Dave, . . ."
She hesitated as he looked at her, still smiling, and seemed to be enjoying her discomfiture.
"I'm sorry," she said, finally, pushing a smile onto her face. "Nice to see you . . .er . . .sir?"
She realized immediately what she said and how she was simply lapsing into the old way. She tired to shake it off but he spoke up then, not giving her a chance.
"Very lovely, Nessa, very pretty, exotic even, with the gorgeous bald head and the looped earrings. Nessa, you are beauty itself."
"Thank you, sir!" she said, without thinking and immediately got angry.
"Why are you hear? I don't want to do this!" she said all in one breath.
Dave just smiled at the agitated woman, who was looking caged in her own office just then.
"But I think that you do! Maybe not enough right now but the feeling will grow and you'll want to act on the feeling. Nessa, I can guarantee that."
"Don't call me that!" she rasped at him.
His eyes flashed and he barked at her: "Shall I slap you, girl? You think you're okay, protected here in your office? Do you want me to out your little 'Nessa' games to all your co-workers."
Vanessa lost ground immediately. She realized, quickly, that it wasn't so much his threats, although they were potent, but the very tone of his voice. She was getting lost in it, losing ground.
"Ohhh," she wailed, her face in her hands then, "I don't want to do this, I don't, I don't!"
"Not now, pretty Nessa, now just now but I guarantee that you will want to do it, and soon, and,when you do, you'll need to find 'Massa Dave'! Won't you?"
He waited for a moment and said to her softly: "Now, Nessa, if you don't answer Massa Dave right now, I'm going to slap you and humiliate you in front of your pretty secretary. You don't want that, do you, honey?"
"No, Massa Dave," she said softly, losing the battle, and so quickly, all her reserve and resolutions gone that quickly, "Dis nigger don't want dat no how, Massa Dave!"
"Better!" he said to her. "But we don't want that now; we don't want that Nessa here now; it's not why I'm here. So, dear, take a moment, compose yourself, we both know what just happened, don't we?"
