Craig Nichols was as quiet as a church mouse.
It was another long, drab meeting in which he had nothing to offer.
Sure, the 21-year-old intern, for a lack of experience, could be excused for hiding in the corner of the smoke-filled conference room.
But Craig felt even if he had been there 10 years, he'd still have nothing to say.
Once the meeting on the new toothpaste ad broke up for the day, Craig returned to his desk.
He slunked down, staring at the clock and counting the minutes until it was 5 p.m.
The summer's supposed to be a fun time, he thought, not a time for boring summer internships draining your batteries.
"Craig? Can I see you for a second?" chirped Holly Preston, his sweet but demanding boss.
Craig grabbed his notepad and pen, tucked in his dress shirt and dutifully walked to her office.
She urged him to take a seat.
She smiled, and pushed forward.
"Hon, this isn't working out," she said directly.
Instead of disappointment or worry, Craig instead felt a sense of relief.
"I know," he said.
"Hon, you just seem lost," she described. "You don't bring anything to our meetings, you look bored out of your mind, your work is always behind..."
"I know, Ms. Preston," he said, apologetic in tone. "I'm starting to think advertising just isn't for me."
She had a sad look of disappointment, not so much in him, but rather for him.
"Thought I would follow in my dad's footsteps but. I think I need to do something else," he admitted.
She nodded slowly, still feeling for him.
There was quiet for a moment.
"Well," she announced, leaning forward over her desk. "I have an idea. I don't want to see you not get your six credits for the internship.
"So I was thinking, if you could get in touch with someone at Oklahoma, make sure this is okay. I was going to have you fill out the rest of the summer as our office administrator."
"You mean a secretary," Craig translated easily, having picked up plenty of the jargon from his dad's office.
"Well, yeah," she said upbeat. "Believe me, there's plenty to do. Answering phones, running errands, taking notes, making copies..."
"Yes, mam," he said.
She smiled.
"Is that a 'yes?'" she asked.
"Oh, yeah, definitely. Sounds good to me," he answered, again, sort of relieved and feeling this could be an easier, less taxing job for him.
"Well, great," she gushed. "We could use you, that's for sure."
Again, there was a silence, but this one sort of comfortable.
Craig got up to leave, but Holly stopped him.
"Oh, before you go," she interjected.
She got up, and trotted lightly over to the door, closing it for further privacy. Her stocking-covered feet pranced along the carpet.
"Sweetie, I have to ask," she said, now giggling, as she got something out of one of her folders. "I found this."
She retrieved a single sheet of paper, and now placed it in front of Craig.
It looked like the cover of a comic book.
In big, bold letters, it read along the top: "CFnm Costume Party, Big Blowout at Adriatico's B & B."
And beneath, the artist had drawn several stimulating cartoons - the detail something to behold - of many scenarios one might see at such an event.
Craig recognized this design quite well because he drew it.
An overwhelming feeling of embarrassment came over him, as his female boss was suddenly peaking into his private world. But with that, came a slight, building feeling of arousal.
"Hon, it was on the copy machine - someone left it," she calmly informed. "I checked out of curiosity, to return it to its proper owner, and the copy machine allowance code entered belonged to you."
He felt as though his face turned three shades of red.
He felt denying it was pointless.
"It's. it's mine," he stammered.
"It's very impressive," she gushed.
"Really?" he asked, surprised out of his seat.
"Well, yeah. the artistry. you're very talented, Craig," she insisted. "I wish you had this kind of passion for advertising but. nevertheless. you're gonna go places with designs like this."
She praised the artwork and the craftsmanship, but it was inevitable she delved deeper into the subject matter.
"Craig," she began, sort of chuckling, the big-bosomed Ms. Preston getting up out of her seat and coming around to sit next to Craig.
She crossed her legs, her skirt hiking up a big.
"You're gonna think I'm such a square, but what on Earth is CFNM?" she managed.
From the sound in her voice, Craig could tell she probably did her best to find out, but came up empty.
"Um," he began, trying to gain traction.
He felt the easiest way was to be direct.
"Well. it stands for Clothed Female Naked Male," he informed.
"Clothed. Female, Naked Male," she repeated, trying to process things.
"Yeah, it's a party, or an event where the women are fully clothed and the men."
"Are completely naked," she deduced, finishing for him.
"Yes, mam" he answered.
She turned the sheet of paper around, back towards her, and studied it further.
"Interesting," she said sincerely, not at all placing guilt or shame upon the artist.
"So," she began, struggling to get out what she wanted to say next.
Obviously, she had some questions.
"It's a niche party, is what I tell people," he said.
"I understand but what is this," she asked, holding the piece of paper up. "What is this? This actual sheet of paper?"
"Oh," he answered, as if to say, 'that's easy.'
"That's an invitation."
"Ohhhhh, it's an invitation," she answered, wide-eyed and intrigued.
"Yeah, I made about 20 copies, for my buddy to take to work," he answered. "My buddy, Barney, he's a stripper, works at Guns of the Dusty Plains."
"He's a stripper," she answered. "I see. Oh, and so you were making copies of the original, and forgot to - "
"Yeah," he said, laughing at himself. "I'm sorry, Ms. Preston."
"No, no, it's fine," she answered.
She looked the photo up and down.
"Geez, and I thought the '70's were over," she smiled. "This is absolutely wild!"
Craig felt a little bit more comfortable with Ms. Preston's "discovery," but his heart was still racing a bit, and he felt more and more aroused and excited as the conversation delved deeper.
