In my absence, they've come up with the brilliant idea of shared community service in the form of office events, birthday's retirements etc; compulsory team-building bullshit in this cliquish cult.
They seem to be going to great lengths to make our new CIO whose name escapes me feel welcome. I did vet him so I'll play nice today.
Everyone's always pretty nice to the IT department, it's small, they work very hard, and, like God, they see everything.
He's lucky, I'm still waiting for my birthday pizza and we're coming up on my birthday again in a few months. I must be tired because even in my head that sounds damned whiny.
I don't know why I care. I hate celebrating my birthday. It'd only serve to engage my gag reflex.
Actually, I kinda missed this place. Granted there still aren't enough black people around here. But given how much of the US population we actually comprise, I don't know what I expect. As exasperating as it is, this is probably a fair representation of us as a whole here in the US demographically speaking.
America has its finer points though. Dependable water-pressure, Basketball, commercials, driving on the right side of the road, though as a lefty I must admit to liking the left hand drive, well heated rooms, our obnoxiously thick pizza dough. BBQ chicken on pizza?
Good ol American junk food, pizza, ice cream and soda. Mmmmm . . . will have to pay a visit to Mary Angela's, I could really go for a cheese steak and a pint of coconut pineapple Haagen Dazs.
My irregular period's about to make an appearance I think, and considering what I almost got up to in England I am glad to see it.
Lying right next to him and dreaming about his hands and mouth on me. I cannot believe that I almost . . . I wanted it so very badly. Six days alone with a handsome stranger and I lost my mind. It was that way of his of watching me, intense enough to make your hair stand on end.
And that hard and narrow body of his - I generally like my men a bit broader but he was lanky and elegant, the body beautiful; long ropey muscles, hard and wiry, a runner's body. I was practically out of control towards the end. His patient teasing and pleasing was sending me over the edge, that and the kissing.
Besides, that fucker actually tried to flip the script on me! Using sex as a negotiating tactic for information.
Where do you live? Do you have brothers and sisters? I know you have a sister; you gave her your hair appointment. Where'd you grow up? Ever been married?
A million questions and all too personal. Like seeing me naked and knowing my real name wasn't enough. He just wouldn't let up. I ended up locking my purse and passport in the hotel room safe for privacy's sake.
And so I did what I had to - got him liquored up on good scotch, he's a damned lightweight, go figure and left for home in the middle of the night on a plane going east to west.
I liked him, I did. He was fun and gentle and sexy. First man I've liked in years.
But there was the black & white issue. I'm not 'kill the white people' with mine, but I do have 'bad white days'.
Not very many having been abroad for so long, and steering away from anything but financial and business news but still, I have enough going on in my life without that.
Though honestly I was so caught up in everything else going on I'd never really considered the race issue At all until he started talking of home and mentioning the future.
It's neither here nor there now; it's over and done with and though I feel somewhat regretful my life is really too full right now and I find that I am glad we didn't exchange information.
I'm glad for this dude and his day of pizza but his staring is starting to become embarrassing which evidently he fails to realize. If I don't give in and look directly at him he'll go away.
I don't think I have anything on my face and I'm fairly certain I've managed not to drop anything on my shirt. It's probably my hair. It's not exactly professional but c'mon I'm wearing Prada I can have deconstructed hair in a suit like this. It's called style. I've done my time and am home for the foreseeable future. I can let my hair down or rather not, for a bit. I missed my fro. Besides, my scalp is sore from wrestling my hair into submission every other day. I'm done with that for a minute.
Not to mention the sublime pleasure of being perversely other in this WASP environment is just too good to pass up on a Monday. Yep, I am fucking out there today and because I work my ass off around here there's not a damned thing anyone can say. He's still staring. I don't know why and don't care. Whatever his particular problem is he needs to get over it. Without contact lenses I have no peripheral vision whatsoever. Exasperated, I turn to look at him and give him what for and I'm stunned.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"It is you!"
"I work here."
"I'm D. Wilde."
"You're Dax Wilde?" I sound crazy as hell.
He nods slowly. "And you're L.J. of the emails?"
"Lou James."
There's a pause.
"D.W.?"
"That's me. What's with the hair?" I swear he's looking at my hair like I've got a knife stashed in my fro.
"This is America. What?"
He smiles. Oh god no! Not the smiles. That fucking dimple. Not here. Not at work.
"My hair is the least of it. No wonder the concierge thought we were together, the firm has an account there, which you were clearly using as well. Shit shit shit and fuck!" I've really stepped in it this time.
We pointlessly shake hands. He looks deceptively wholesome and non-threatening in khaki's and a button down white shirt and brown oxfords, nice shoes. How on earth could I have forgotten a name like that? Wilde with an 'e'.
I know now that I absolutely need to come home for a while. I've started missing details. I never miss details. I'm paid damned well not to.
They actually took my advice and hired him. He's qualified, more than, we were lucky to get him. But our HR department is not known for their expertise.
Look at them over there. David and Kelli, up to no fucking good. I'm not back for a hot minute before their bullshit starts up again. I so have not missed that.
And now there's this to deal with. First person I happen to fool around with on a business trip turns out to be a goddamned co-worker no less. Never a break.
There's nothing for it but to laugh it off and try to keep it civil and professional and try my damnedest to pretend we don't know what each other looks like naked.
--
They are having an office birthday party for me, their version of southern hospitality. Which, while very kind, I am not exactly looking forward to; these events can be awkwardly uncomfortable. An hour of forced conversation with people you wouldn't talk to outside of work. They're not easy these middle southerners.
But it's been a while now and I've finally settled in and decided it's ok. My favorite BBQ chicken pizza has been ordered and an ice cream cake purchased.
I look around the table and stop doing a double take. No way!
She's wearing glasses and the hair is different but it's her. I'm not hallucinating. That hair is a lot to take in; a seriously luxuriant mass of uncultivated coils and curls, with a few spirals and ringlets framing her pretty face just so, all lips and cheeks. It's definitely her. Down to the four freckles high on her left cheekbone. I can only blink as I look at her.
A Lawyer. I guessed correctly. I don't know what I imagined but it wasn't this. Immaculately dressed if not positively severe; black slacks, black shirt, and black leather wing tips. A lawyer, with hair like that?
Intent on eating. Unfazed by the fact of my blatant staring which I cannot help as she really does draw the eye.
Tucking two napkins into her shirt she picks up a slice and takes a hearty bite, chews thoughtfully and nods her appreciation.
"This was a good choice. I've not had this before." She sighs appreciatively.
I recognize that sigh. I've been hearing it in my dreams.
June's caught me staring at her boss and is smirking. I put my head down and tend to my slice. The IT department is very small, so various people around the office have been invited to this small gathering.
There are quite a few people I recognize. I know Matt from the 18th floor and June from Human Resources. I've seen Blanca around she's from the Dominican Republic I think, attractive with her pale skin and dark hair. The strawberry blonde whose name I can never remember and David her colleague, lawyers I think.
Small talk ensues and sure enough we get around to politics.
"Lou what do you think, have business owners made it solely on their own merit with no help or what?"
He seems to be deliberately baiting her. He and Kelli have expectant looks on their faces.
Putting down her second slice, she takes off her napkin, wipes her mouth and regards him quietly before responding.
"The United States is in no way the paragon of democratic perfection it purports itself to be. This country, like many others, is founded on the misfortunes of others. The difference is the rest of the world isn't as hypocritically delusional about their origins as we seem to be.
First - Kill off most of the indigenous people round up what's left, shuffle them across the country in what's basically a death march, deposit them on arid, infertile land and leave them to fend for themselves, and in the end pat yourselves on the back for giving them casinos and sovereignty on the stolen land.