I am one half of a well-functioning award-winning team, seriously we win awards yearly for the accounts we close together. For the past three years we have been unstoppable, the underdogs they put together to make sure we failed out of sight but we crushed it. That was until recently, my partner, my teammate, my work wife has been dropping the ball. Something is going on and I have been trying to be respectful and not get into her business, we are coworkers, not "friends" per se our arrangement is professional. Sure, I have been invited over to her house for the occasional BBQ to hang with her husband, which I assume is to alleviate any thoughts that something is going on between us. We work a lot of late nights and weekends and I can see how a husband wouldn't like that. So I presented as not a threat and played the game so our team would thrive. I have always been 100% about the team but something is off and I need to figure out what it is.
I looked over at her sorting through papers, we shared an office with a large desk in an L shape. She gave me the bigger side and so she got the window, see teamwork. I had to bring it up, I cleared my throat and blurted like an idiot.
"What is wrong with you Skye you are off your game?" Shit.
Skye was a rough woman, she took no shit, ever! A true shark in a blouse and skirt, and I just came at her the absolute worst way.
"Excuse me! My game is perfect, Mr. Kettle misfiled TPS report." She retorted, staring daggers at me.
Kettle was an inside "pseudo joke/insult" from the phrase "the pot calling the kettle black". It was a dig one of our co-workers laid on me to try to be obtuse about his blatant racism about the one black guy in the office outperforming him. As the only woman in the office, she got her fair share of strife and we often bring it up as motivation but throw it at each other when proving a point.
I held my hands up in surrender, "that came out wrong. I apologize I have just been thinking about this a lot and our team is...misaligned." I chose my words more carefully.
Her face softened and I saw an understanding flash across her face. "Ok, misaligned, what do you mean?"
I paused, putting down my pen and again trying to choose my words carefully.
"Something is off between us I feel a distance, are you planning on quitting and don't want to tell me?" I knew that wasn't it, she worked far too hard for this job she wasn't giving up but I needed to offer something.
"I am not quitting." She paused.
"I am having trouble at home, I thought I was hiding it well but it seems I am wrong or you just know me too well."
"I am sorry to hear that, and I am sorry for pressing. We just have some big deals coming up and I wanted to be sure we could give them the ol razzle-dazzle." I offered a nervous grin that was beyond me. I was far from married, I was perpetually single by design making sure relationships do not last through a month. To my surprise, she laughed leaning back in her chair looking at the ceiling.
"Razzle dazzle is what I could use Darius." She groaned, shaking her head.
My eyes went wide at the implication this is uncharted territory for us. We never had a conversation outside of work. I said nothing.
"Don't be a prude D you started this and we are here now, you wanted to talk we are talking."
"I am far from a prude lady. I got more freak in me than you could muster in one of your stereotypical valley girl blond hairs." What I was so offended at being called a prude I would never know but I went for a sensitive spot for her, much like I was "kettle" she was the office "blonde bimbo". She wasn't really, not even close her proportions were that of a normal housewife but men are mean once advances are turned down.
She laughed, "If you say so, well that's my issue. I'm not getting laid at home because my dear husband thinks something I wanted to try is disgusting and now he won't touch me. So yeah maybe our team is "unaligned" because I am being neglected. I apologize for that I will work on it.``
With her apology, she went back to work leaving me with so many questions I knew better than to ask although I REALLY wanted to find out about what could be so bad. My mind raced to all the "disgusting" things I had done with various no-name women. The silence between us filled the room so much I hadn't noticed I was staring until she dropped her pen and looked at me.
"Ask or move on, I'm going to malign your face if you keep staring at me, Darius Jesus!"
"Shit, sorry you are right it's none of my business I'll just uh..umm get back to work." I fumbled my words seeing in my mind how my view of my work wife switched from valued teammate to sexual deviant and I felt the rush of excitement over it I needed to stifle.
We got back to work in silence for over an hour until I needed her to sign a document.
"Hey, can you sign section 3 for the-."
"Anal Darius he thinks anal is disgusting! He actually called me a slut for wanting to try it with my HUSBAND." She blurted, locking eyes with me. I exhaled; she needed to talk and I needed my teammate back.
I put the paper down, time to be one of the girls and shit talk her husband.
"Ok, that was rude as hell and there is absolutely nothing wrong with anal. Also if you were a slut isnt it ideal to be a slut for your husband?" Boom, I agreed, validated her thoughts and put her husband down while bolstering the ideals of marriage. I am an outstanding girlfriend now we can move on.
Wrong, so wrong.
"Exactly! That's my whole point! I have been practicing for months building up the courage to ask him and he actually quit in the middle of sex because I asked for it!"
Shit, this is why I don't have girlfriends.
"Well you shouldn't ask for new things without discussing them first consent is-." Daggers again.
"I mean I personally wouldn't do that but you ARE married you should be able to ask for what you want."
She sighed, "Yeah I should be able to ask for whatever I want and we at least discuss it without judgement. Give me the form."
I handed it to her and took the cue to change the subject. I should have left it at that but I am an idiot and dove deeper.
"You know there are therapists for this kind of thing."
"Unless the therapist is going to fuck my ass the outcome here is set in stone he is not with it and I am with a man who is willing to put my sexuality in a box."
Well fuck, now I am sad.
"Sorry, I feel for you."
It stopped there and things got a little bit better for about a week. In that time I resisted the thoughts forming in my mind about fucking my co worker for the sake of the team. It was stupid and would not work under any circumstance but my fantasies took flight. I scrolled through my rolodex and found someone to take my frustrations out on several times and somehow it always ended up the same way, my dick buried in a nameless woman's ass.
It was the Friday before a weekend conference in the vein of what would be our "catalina wine mixer". Every year we closed double digit clients into 7 digit profits for the company leading to SUBSTANTIAL bonuses for us and her head was not in the game, things were getting worse. It had been a month since our conversation and things seemingly were not getting better at home. It was late and my anxiety was high. We were not prepared for the morning.
"We are screwed, we don't have dockets on over half the potential clients and even fewer proposals. Fucking Jarret and his stupid flunky squad are going to crush us this year." I groaned, invoking the names of our nemesis.
"We got this, we have time, it's just going to be a long night and a highly caffeinated day." She tried to encourage the already yawning.
