Canadian Julie

We called her Canadian Julie because we already had two other Julies in the office. One of them was was Fat Julie and another one was Hot Julie. I was in my mid-thirties when I met Canadian Julie at our soda bottling company in Seattle. She worked as our senior accountant and I was a director for planning.

She'd been working for us for less than a week when, on a Friday, the company held one its weekly after work beer and wine parties. I had just finished talking with a co-worker when she came up to me from behind and tapped my shoulder.

"Oh hi," I said. "I've been meaning to introduce myself. How are you?"

She smiled and vigorously chewed what must have been a huge wad of gum, exactly as my mother had told me never to do. She had a wide gap between her two top front teeth that she kept exposing and that I kept looking at. How the heck did this one make it through the front door, I asked myself.

"You must be Julie," I continued.

"I am," she said. "I wanted to say hi. I haven't introduced myself."

"Stephanie," I said.

"I know."

Shit. I shouldn't have been surprised. Only lipstick lesbian in the whole company, with a whole library of sordid stories to her name. Of course word had gotten around.

"How come I haven't seen you around?"she asked.

"I guess we move in different circles. I work on the other side of the floor." I pointed.

"Oh, yeah? That's right," she said, laughing "I'm Julie. CPA. I sit over there," she said, thrusting her head toward our large bay of cubicles that acted like a moat that separated the executive wing from the managers.

"So how long have you worked her, Julie?"

That's when I noticed that she hadn't stopped smiling and swaying in front of me. She was actually dancing to the ridiculous elevator music that the company insisted on playing out in the lobby.

"Three weeks," she said and took a gulp from her beer.

Man, she had no manners but she sure was beautiful. She was of medium complexion but with the curliest curls you'd ever seen on a white woman. She wore a nice ankle length black skirt with black stockings and a white blouse, sexy and cute in that usual business sort of way. She had a nice fit figure, very toned calves, and she looked the part of the business woman, except for that darn aggressive gum chewing. She was friendly though.

"Another Julie, huh?" I said. "Like we didn't have enough of them." I hoped she had a sense of humor.

"I know," she blurted and nudged me with her shoulder. "What do you think? You think it's going to get too complicated around here?"

"It's already complicated! But three? Three's kind of asking for trouble, don't you think?"

"I'm willing to change my name," she said and smiled, long enough to pause her incessant chewing. Then resumed the vigorous smacking.

"I'd think hard about it. Take one for the team, you know. Do you have a middle name?"

"No. Unfortunately not. Would come in handy just about now I think."

I nodded in sympathy.

"Excuse me," she said and turned her head away. She pulled the pink wad of gum out and wrapped it into a crumpled napkin that she pulled out from the hem of her black skirt. She placed the spent gum in her palm. She was kind of gross.

"We could maybe come up with something," I said.

"Any thoughts?"

I put my finger up to my chin and thought for a while but nothing was coming to mind.

"How about, Jules?" I offered.

"Not bad. Let's hold onto that. Let me think. Girl names...girl names...think...think."

"So many," I said and gave her a chance to ponder the deep question.

"I got it." She paused for dramatic effect. "Bambi. God I always liked Bambi."

I gave her a look. She had to be kidding.

"Are you sure? The deer?"

"She's a deer?"

"You don't mean Barbie like the doll, do you?"

"Oh shit," she said. "You're right. "Yes, Barbie, that's what I meant."

"You're too smart looking for that," I said.

"Oh don't tell me you're one of those anti-Barbie women."

"Afraid so. That chick gave us a very tough ideal to follow. No matter who you wanted to be when you grew up, it was never good enough. You had to be everything else too and have it all."

"Always have to have it all." She nodded.

"I hated her so much. Hey what about this? Jules."

She wasn't impressed, her face told me.

"Jules sounds cool," she said, but she was just saying that to be nice.

"It does," I countered. "Think about it."

"No one's ever called me Jules."

"Really? Here, let's practice."

She straightened up.

"Hi, Jules. Nice day we're having today. How've you been?"

"Just great. Couldn't be better and you?"

"Just fine. Just relaxing after a long week of selling soda."

She laughed out loud.

"Jules," I said, leaning into her ear. "Have you been drinking too much?"

She covered her mouth and snickered.

"No," she said. "Well. Maybe a little. It was just too much temptation. All that free beer."

She was getting louder.

A few heads looked over to us. I looked back and smiled at Fat Julie who had turned to look at us from far across the room. Fat Julie turned away after a second and resumed her chat with Tim, a guy everyone knew she had a crush on. Fat Julie wasn't all that fat. I mean, she had a pretty face and she was tall and statuesque. So what if she had a few extra pounds on her.

"Hey, Julie," I said under my breath. I looked toward Fat Julie again. The bitch just wouldn't stop staring.

Okay, she was fat, but maybe she was a bitch because other people called her Fat Julie and because she was a bitch.

When I turned back on the New Julie, she was grinning hard and again vigorously chewing gum. The tooth gap may have seemed odd looking at first, but she was so unselfconscious in the way she smiled and laughed and she was so beautiful, it didn't seem odd at all. It fit her perfectly.

"Where are you from?" I asked, figuring that she wasn't from around here. No one's from around here.

She turned and I followed her back to the table with the assortment of already poured cups of beer with their little typed signs. She turned the signs so she could read them.

"Canada," she said, in a way I had never quite heard it pronounced before.

"Must be nice."

"It's not. At least not where I'm from."

"Well, you have to tell me more. Let's go some place quieter. I'll show you around."

" Sure. Okay. Let me grab a beer first," she said and grabbed two. She handed me one, with her pinkie up."One's for you."

"Thanks," I said.

"I always liked Susie. What do you think?"

"That's a nice name," I said and gave her my arm.

Her hair smelled like strawberries.

***

She burst out laughing, after I closed my door.

"Whew," I said. "Things were getting kind of nasty out there. One of the Julies was staring at us."

"Which one? I didn't notice."

"The mean one. She was burning a hole through your head with her laser vision."

"She doesn't like me."

"Cute new pretty girl. Same name as her. What's not to like. Just kidding, you're a bad contrast."

"What do you mean?"

"You're cute and pretty. She's not. She's jealous."

Julie walked around the room and over to the floor to ceiling window, 23 stories above Puget Sound.

"Holy shit," she said and took a step back. "You have got to be kidding."

I smiled with pride. It hadn't been easy and I dealt with a lot of crap to get my trophy window. I was willing to do the hard work and sleep with the female CTO and CFOs.

"Welcome to the executive wing," I said.

"Wow, no wonder they don't want us over here. I'm jealous."

She looked around for a place to sit where she could continue looking out and found a waist high filing cabinet right next to the window.

"Mind if I move this?" she asked.

"Go ahead." It was a heavy filing cabinet, I saw for myself the next day when I moved it back where it belonged, but that girl had some muscles on her.

The sun was low on the horizon and we still had a few hours left before dark but for now the weak sun sparkled on the glassed buildings and still waters of Puget Sound.

"You've done well for yourself," she said, turning her attention back to me. "Good for you. I'm glad to see a woman make it in this world."

"Thanks," I said, and poured a cup of ice water from my glass pitcher.

She couldn't have looked any more sexy if she tried. She was exceptionally well put together and the sunlight lit her up beautifully. She grabbed a hair band from her wrist and magically pulled her hair up into a pony tail, giving me a clear view of her lightly freckled face and beautiful high cheekbones. I wished I could take a picture.

"Water?" I offered.

"Yes, please."

She licked her lips and pulled her bouncy hair away from her face. I gave her my cup and I went to pour another one for myself.

"Have you met them? The Julies?" I asked, suddenly feeling gossipy.

She whispered. "You mean, Fat Julie and Hot Julie?"

So, she had.

"I met them," she said. "Kind of sucks that the Hot name is already taken. I could be Hot. I wouldn't mind being hot. I wouldn't take it the wrong way if people called me hot."

"I don't think Hot Julie minds it either. You sure can't be Fat."

"I heard about that. You people are awful."

"I didn't come up with it," I said, and smiled behind my cup, as I took a drink and admired the young woman in my office.

"She's not very nice," Julie said. "I hung out with her a few weeks ago with a bunch of people from accounting."

"You wouldn't be nice if everyone called you Fat Julie. She's angry."

"It's messed up. You don't think she knows, do you?"

"I don't see how everyone in the office can call her Fat Julie and somehow never find out."

"No shit," she said. "She's not that bad looking when you think about it."

"I think so too. She could be someone's project. Maybe she can be turned around."

"Fat chicks can be cute."

"Sure," I said. "Of course." I looked at this beautiful specimen. Who was she to talk?

"I used to be a little plump."

"You were?"

"When I went to college. A little too much bacon and cream cheese with my bagels."

"It'll get you every time."

"Unlimited free food," she said. "Away from home, no one to tell you to watch, what you eat. No self control."

"Never would have guessed."

"It's a constant struggle. Have to watch what I eat. Beer's my undoing, but I'll just run it off. Hey, you know what?"

"Don't say it. I'm not running."

She smiled.

"We should go out to lunch sometime."

"That I can do," I said.

***

The next week, Canadian Julie and I finally managed to meet up for pizza. True to her word, she insisted on walking off the calories. I looked ridiculous in my slacks and white sneakers.

"We could have two Hotties," she said, as we bounced down a steep hill.

"What?"

"Just saying, we could have two hot Julies."

I laughed.

"But that defeats the point," I said. "How are we going to tell you two apart?"

"Hottie Julie. I can be hottie. I'm younger. Trust me, I wouldn't get offended. Only if it wasn't for these fucking teeth."

"Really? What's wrong with your teeth?"

"Look."

"They're fine."

"I have a gap!"

"A little one. It's cute. Pretty."

"I wouldn't call it pretty but I wouldn't call it ugly," said Julie and stuck her front teeth out. "Just distracting."

"I'd disagree," I said. "Every great beauty needs a distinguishing feature to punch it up."

"I don't know," she said, still pulling back her lower jaw. "Look at me." People walking the opposite direction looked. A little kid stared. "I was thinking of getting it fixed."

"Don't," I said, feeling sorry for the gap. "You'll end up like that actress from Dirty Dancing. You'll be unrecognizable."

"Ouch my face hurts," she said after a while and massaged her cheeks. "You know the way. Where to?"

"Over here," I said, and ran forward to make a light. She jogged ahead of me and was bouncing up and down, until I made it over.

"You're very pretty," I said. "I wouldn't get all worked up about it."

"Let's run."

"Walk."

"Half an hour," she said.

For the next hour I walked her down to the club district in Pioneer Square. The doors to many of the clubs were open and people were sweeping and cleaning up. The clubs were open most days of the week, more for the office crowd than the kids that descended on Fridays and Saturdays. I knew every club in the area.

"I hang out here," I told her, as we crossed the middle of a street.

"I heard."

"Oh really, what did you hear?"

"Just that you club a lot. Never would have guessed. I'm the hard drinker but you're the clubber. How often?"

"Couple times a week. Okay, almost every night of the week. It's a habit."

Her eyes got huge.

"Must be nice," she said.

"I have friends," I told her. "We've been going out for years. Move from bar to bar. End up in Capitol Hill after a while." I don't know why I said that. Capitol Hill's the gay capital of the city. I guess I felt the urge to come out to her.

She didn't say anything and kept on walking.

"I heard."

"Yeah, I'm sure you have."

That was her way of bringing up my gayness and my way of acknowledging that I knew what she knew.

"Maybe you and I have more in common than I thought," she said.

"I'm sure we do," I said, not quite clear what she meant.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"We both like to drink."

***

On the way back, I invited her into my office. We were both overheating, red-faced and sweating. I threw off my shoes and enjoyed the coolness of the wood tiled floor. I collapsed on my chair. She closed the door behind her as she walked in, and then leaned her back on it.

"I'm never doing that again," I said and laughed. My feet were still hot.

"Feels good," she said, pulling on her white blouse, which was drenched in sweat.

She winked at me and unbuttoned a single button on her blouse. My heart skipped a beat. It wasn't much but it was enough. One more I hoped.

The second button popped. Was I dreaming? Was I imagining all this? I wanted to run up to her and plant a big kiss on her smooth neck. She wore a white lace bra.

"Sorry," she said. "I feel like I'm overheating."

"Remember, I'm a lesbian. Be careful."

She undid another button.

"Let's do that again," she said, pretending not to have heard my half hearted warning.

"Walking? Maybe not walk during mid day."

"Come on. That was good. You'll get used to it."

She fanned herself with an old new magazine that she took from a coffee table.

I poured us cups of water.

"Do you have anything to dry off with?" she asked and undid her hair. Her big mass of curls came crashing down her damp neck and face.

"I have a towel," I said and dug out a rag that I used to wipe down counters. "It's clean. Mostly."

She took it and dabbed her bare chest and stomach, then her arms.

I couldn't help but stare. Here we go again. The falling for a straight chick. And she was going out of her way to get my attention. I kept looking and that was my bad. A stupid move. The stupidest move according to the great lesbian handbook.

She took off her black heeled shoes and lifted herself back onto her favorite filing cabinet. She pouted. Her shoes dangled from her fingers before she dumped them. Her long beautiful legs dangled and kicked.

"I'm too hot," she said, and opened up her blouse. "I said, I'm too hot." The blouse hung by her shoulders.

"Hot Julie's taken," I said, and pretended I wasn't looking.

"Damn it."

"But I was thinking. How about Canadian Julie?"

She looked at me cockeyed and adjusted the blouse so it only showed her cleavage and her tight stomach. Fuck me.

"I can work on it," I said, but I never did. Canadian Julie it was and always would be.

***

I went home, turned off the lights, covered up in a blanket, and laid down on the couch, I was so happy with the little scene in my office that I wish I would never forget it. I closed my eyes and tried to bring Julie back into my mind with as much clarity as I could muster, bra, skirt and all. Crazy curls, gap toothed, and all.

What a crazy kid.

***

I talked with Julie all the time at work, and she soon had an office of her own, not quite next to mine but close enough. Whenever I walked by her office or I was bored, I would stick my head in and say hi, joke around, or talk about my plans. She loved to hear what I was up to, maybe because although I was older by ten years I seemed to be having way more fun than she was. I was going out a lot with friends to bars and dancing, and she envied that. She wanted to know all the details so I made sure I lived it up. I told her about my ex, which she didn't approve of. You have to move on girl, she would say.

I asked her to join me more than a few times, but she told me that her husband probably wouldn't appreciate his wife clubbing with a bunch of lesbians. The husband seemed like a nice guy but she made me understand that he was overprotective, in addition to being a homebody.

"You don't have to tell him what I do under the covers."

"Too late. I already have," she said with wide opened eyes, rattling her head like she was about to explode with the scandalous scenario.

"What did you say?"

"Just that I know this woman at the office and that she's the most incredible, smartest lesbian that I've ever known. And easy on the eyes."

"Thanks, I think. And you're the second hottest Julie I've ever known."

She hated that and stuck her tongue out at me, and I ran back to my office.

Later on she came around to my office, knocked, and opened my door just enough to stick her mouth through the gap.

"You didn't mean that about being second, did you?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, although I knew perfectly well what she was talking about.

"You know, about not being as hot as the other one."

"What do you care what I think, Julie?"

"I care very much what you think."

"What's important is what you think."

"She's kinda pretty."

I walked over.

"You mean, hot?" I asked.

"She's hot, fine. But what do you think?" She whispered, "Do you think I'm hot?"

I took my time answering.

"That's subjective."

"But who do you think is hotter?"

I opened the door.

"Come in," I said.

She walked in and put her hands behind her back and walked into the middle of my office. I folded my arms and stuck out my hip, like a boss. I looked her up and down, then walked over to her. She was nervous, which made me nervous. She bit her lip and ran her tongue over her teeth and lips. She chewed her gum once. I stepped behind and around, taking in her every curve and line. I walked around and looked her in the face. She was immobile. I leaned in.

"I think you're the hottest," I said, whispering it into her ear.

She lit up like a child that had just gotten a gold star.

"Thanks," she said.

She turned to my face which was inches from her and she did the unexpected. She kissed me. Sweet and soft. I never wanted it to end. She rubber her lips on mine. I didn't move. She did all the kissing. Her face saddened and a tear ran down her face.

"I wish things were different," she said, stepping back, and moving her hands down to my waist.

"I understand," I said.

She wasn't the first married woman I had kissed, after all, and I knew the pain that divorce puts on everyone involved. I didn't want that for her if she didn't want it. I didn't need it. There's no joy being around that. Just stress. I was too old to be breaking homes that didn't want to be broken.

But I wanted her anyway.

"Can I get another hug," I asked.

"Anytime."

I kissed her neck, as if it were the last time.

"One more kiss," I said. "I promise. Last one I'll ever ask for."

She kissed me passionately. She wanted it to be memorable. Her tongue touched mine and then was gone and her lips left mine.