Amber sat at her desk, scanning through the selection of photographs on the screen in front of her and looking for some to accompany her current article, an interview she had recently conducted with a young, local soap star. Sounds of activity were all around her. She wasn't important enough to have her own office, and had to make do with a desk on the main floor. Not that this bothered her. It gave her the chance to catch up on the gossip from all the other girls, as long as she didn't have too much work to do. Today was a busy day, though. It was a Thursday, and Thursdays were her deadline days for her weekly article. Even though the next issue of the magazine wasn't due for printing until Saturday, the editor stipulated that her weekly celebrity interviews had to be finished and printed with the master proof on her desk by 4pm every Thursday. She already had all her text inputted and the page was laid out with headlines, subheadings and graphical placeholders where the photographs needed to go. All she needed to do was find the right pictures, insert them into the gaps and print the page. A job that could take her thirty minutes. Or three hours. With a sigh, she dismissed yet another shot. The girl's dress didn't go with the colour of the page background. She pressed the button to advance to the next image, and took a sip of coffee from the Styrofoam cup on the desk in front of her. Then, pulling a face, she spat it back into the cup. She couldn't stand cold coffee! Pressing another button to save a back up her work, she stood up, straightened her skirt and the jacket of her suit, and headed down the office to another desk nearer the door.
The office was divided up into six or seven workspaces, each separated into cubicles by partition walls. Each workspace came with the same basic standard features, a mackintosh computer with scanner, printer and digital memory card reader, a waste paper bin under the table, a phone, a small filing cabinet and a couple of trays to keep papers. None of them were the same, though, as each individual had modified their own space to make it as unique as they were. Some people had added items for functionality such as additional hardware items for the computer, or a fax machine. Others had added items for recreational use. A radio or CD player, or even a small hand held TV. A lot of people had brought ornamental items in, such as potted plants, or framed photographs of the family. Apart from the basic standards, Stacy's cubicle had a small cactus plant, a photograph of her boyfriend and some posters and a calendar on the wall. She also had a stool that Amber had bought, that her best friend could use whenever she came to pay her a visit in her cubicle.
"Hiya, Stace. What you working on?" Amber asked, as she pulled out the stool and sat down next to the short, blonde haired girl.
"Not much. I've got an interview in half an hour for the Real Life column next week." She finished typing the sentence she was on, then swivelled round on her chair to face her friend. "I was just doing some research and background. What about you? What you working on?"
"Still finishing up my last interview. Can't find the right pictures, though. Fancy going for a coffee? The stuff from that vending machine's awful."
"Sure. I've got a bit of time." She pushed her chair back a little and stood up, pausing a moment to save her work and shut down the browser she had been using. Now that she was standing, Amber had a chance to get a proper view of that the girl was wearing. Unlike Amber, who went for the more formal option of a business suit, Stacy wore a casual t-shirt and tight denim shorts, lightly frayed at the bottom. The t-shirt had a relatively low neckline, giving a nice view of her cleavage, and the skirt she wore was very short. The girl looked like a college student looking to catch someone's eye, rather than a magazine reporter. Not for the first time, Amber allowed her eyes to run over Stacy's gorgeous young body. The 24-year old had long, shiny blonde hair that cascaded down her back like a fountain, and the soft, youthful features of a girl ten years younger. The t-shirt, though not tight, stretched over her breasts, and revealed a cleavage that made Amber want to lick her lips with desire. The shorts clung to Stacy's slim figure, closely following the shape of her body. Amber wished she had the confidence to take the risk and tell her best friend how she felt about her, but she was scared of what her reaction would be.
"You gonna stand there and look at me all day, or are you gonna come and get that coffee?" Stacy asked, her face breaking into a smile that lit up her stunning features, and made Amber want her even more.
"Sure. Lead the way," and Amber followed her friend through the office to the doorway, and down the corridor to the lift.
The staff restaurant was almost empty when the two women got there. Not surprising, as it was too late for breakfast, and too early for most people to be taking their breaks. One of the editors from another department was sitting alone on a table near the kitchen, and a couple of the magazine's few male staff were sat together on a table near the entrance. Forgetting the trays, Amber and Stacy went straight to the counter and asked the woman there for two coffees. She was the only person serving, but sounds of washing pots and cooking food could be heard coming from the kitchen behind her. Amber paid for both drinks, and then the two of them went to find a table.
"So, what you've got planned for the weekend?" Stacy asked, taking a tiny sip from the scalding hot cup of coffee and savouring the sensation as the hot liquid slid down her throat.
"My sister's invited me down for a few days," Amber replied. "She's coming to pick me up tomorrow night." Amber was nursing her cup in her hands, allowing the heat to warm her fingers. "What about you?" Stacy was quiet for a few moments, staring into the dark depths of her coffee cup. "Stacy?"
"Hmm?" she gazed up from her drink, and looked across at the other woman. "Sorry?"
"I was asking what you were going to be doing."
"I know, I heard you," Stacy replied. After another few moments she said, "I'm supposed to be going out with Sean. He's taking me to see a movie. Then he wants me to stay the night again." Stacy looked like this was the last thing she wanted to do.
"Oh? That's good, isn't it?" Amber asked, a little confused. "I thought you liked him?"
"I do," she admitted, and took another, longer sip of coffee. This time it burned her mouth, and she had to swallow quickly.
"What is it, then? You don't like the sex?"
"That's just it," Stacy confided. "I don't know. I mean, I do like sex. I've masturbated since I was a teenager, and I've seen plenty of dirty movies. But when I do it with Sean, I just don't seem to enjoy it."
"So you mean you don't want him to do it with you? You don't like what he does?"
"I don't know what it is. I want to do it, and I like doing it. But when I'm in bed, doing it with Sean, it just doesn't excite me. He thinks I came four times last week, but I had to fake every one of them." Stacy was staring into her coffee cup again, and looked like she was going to start crying.
"Maybe you need some help?" Amber asked. What she wanted to say was that perhaps Stacy was putting her interest in the wrong place, that maybe she should try a relationship with a different kind of person. A woman, for example. Seeing how upset she was, though, Amber didn't think it would be a good idea. She might only succeed in driving Stacy away from her.
