This story is a continuation of I'm Dating Our Mailgirl. The 1st 7 chapters of that story should be read first for context. All characters are 18 or older and are completely fictitious as is Seahawk Industries. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental and unintentional.
MY LOVER PAYS ME A VISIT -- OR WAS IT THE HEAD OF HR?
I spent all day Friday nervous that I would receive a call, an email, a personal visit from Joyce or anyone else about my exploits Monday and Thursday night in the warehouse. Did Olivia really have tape of me and 9? Was Rose perhaps compiling a "The Best of Monica and 9" tape as I write? No message was ever received; but I nearly panicked when Joyce came into my office unannounced at around 2:00.
She appeared to be stern faced and asked, "How have you been doing? We haven't talked since Sunday." I really did appreciate that she wasn't the lovey-dovey type who always had to call or text me. It added to the strictly business nature of our arrangement.
"I'm well, thank you." No admonition, yet. But I wasn't sure if I was out of the woods.
She continued, "You realize I have a lot of expectations of you." Oh, no. Was this it?
"Go on."
"I'm expecting you to make all the preparations for our Thanksgiving meal, including the shopping." Oh, well, I thought. Have I dodged the bullet of the great double bed caper?
"Of course. I would disappoint you if I gave you anything less. In fact, I've already arranged to pick up a 20 lb. turkey Tuesday. It will be fresh so it doesn't have to be defrosted. It will be organic, so it needs to be slightly larger in order to feed 12 people. I'm sure you wouldn't want to serve your guests anything stuffed full of hormones." I savored the irony of 9 serving us when she was stuffed full or estrogen and I was starting to stuff myself full of estrogen with my increasing diet of gruel. Joyce was reaping the benefit of my increasing hormone intake by a heightened sexuality which I'm sure she was enjoying.
"You are the perfect partner for me, aren't you. I'll give you a cash card with $400 to take care of all the shopping. Do you think that will be enough?"
"More than adequate."
"Buy yourself something nice with anything left over." I thought, a little tip for your whore, but I didn't say it. But it did remind me that I was little more than Joyce's whore. She said, "I need to get back to my office." She came over and kissed me, passionately.
"Joyce, that was nice, but is it really appropriate in the work place?"
"What's appropriate in the workplace is what the head of HR says is appropriate in the workplace." She winked, give me another peck on the lips, smacked my ass and disappeared. I smiled, enjoying the affection, but wondered, "Did she just give me the basis for a sexual harassment complaint?"
DATE NIGHT -- WITH 9
9 and I had agreed that she would come to my office after her evening shower in the fishbowl. We had arranged for this unusual rendezvous to start our weekend just to provide a little variety in our routine. Strange how such a chaotic and whimsical relationship needed "variety".
As I was waiting in my office for 9, I realized I had not filled out my December date calendar for Joyce to plan our activity for the month. I opened my email and went to an interactive calendar Joyce had sent me. The symphony on December 3 was filled in, but that was technically a November date. I scanned the proposed activities and nothing really jumped out at me. There was a performance of The Nutcracker on a Saturday. I wasn't 8 years old anymore, but I remembered fondly my parents taking me and my little brother to The Nutcracker in Atlanta. I always had fun then. Besides, Joyce liked my Tuxedo outfit for the opera, I figured my passive aggressive nature would allow me to dress up like a little girl for the evening. Handle's Massiah and a Mahler concert really did nothing for me. Besides both of those performances were on a Saturday and the ballet would allow me to fulfill my one Saturday per month obligation.
The were 3 Christmas "parties" listed. One was at the home of the COO. That sounded boring so I passed. I really couldn't distinguish between "The Everson's" and "The Stavros's" party. So I opted for the Stavros's party on a Tuesday. Maybe they would have some good Greek food. There was a Monday night party at the Milner's. I knew some Milners in Atlanta and they were some real party animals. Maybe I'd get lucky and I could just get wasted with booze. I assumed Jaime would be driving us.
The entry for December 30 was intriguing, "The Bacchanalia". Somehow I couldn't see Joyce attending an drunken orgy. Maybe it was just a geriatric version of a drunken party. It had the additional benefit of not being on New Year's Eve so I signed up.
There was an art gallery opening on a Friday. I would much rather have gone to such an event with 9, but I signed up for it. Perhaps Ted and Jennifer would be there.
I was finishing up my date card and I emailed it back to Joyce. A little after 8:00 9 came into my office. She was naked. We had made no real plans for the weekend, but I thought we could go to the Club 869. We could eat there and then dance afterward. I hadn't brought a dress for her to wear, so we decided to head to the warehouse so she could make herself presentable.
We got into the elevator and I hit the 2nd floor button to go to my car. She hit the 1st floor button, "No, we can just walk to the warehouse and then walk back to get your car." I thought it was a little inefficient route, but I acceded to her request. We greeted Evelyn Taylor as we left the building.
"Aren't you over dressed, Ms. Ross." I smiled. I wasn't sure if she was just kidding with me or not. I kept my clothes on as we walked to the warehouse.
9 grabbed the glam dress she kept at the warehouse and said, "Let's go." She carried the dress and walked out in her naked body. We returned to the garage but she still was carrying the dress as she got into the car.
"Are you going to put that one?" I asked her.
"There'll be plenty of time in the parking lot at the club." I could have told her I wanted to go back to my apartment to change, but there really wasn't anything wrong with my business clothes I wouldn't be the only woman at the club dressed this way.
Sure enough, when we parked the car, 9 got out of the car and got dressed. There were people in the parking lot and an audience gathered around. She pretended to ignore them, but I'm sure she was basking in their adoration.
We went inside and were shown to a table. We ordered drinks and some bar food. I started the conversation, "Last night was sheer ecstasy. I've never been so happy in all my life."
9 replied, "I can't believe you actually walked naked to the warehouse. Whatever possessed you?"
I took 9's hand in mine. "9, I want to share all of your experiences. I want to climb into your shoes and be you."
She giggled, "But I hardly ever wear shoes any more."
"Alright, I want to crawl into your skin and be you."
"Are you saying that you want to become a mailgirl?"
"No, no, no. I just haven't expressed it very well. The sexual creature, the brazen peacock strutting her stuff. The person addicted to sensual pleasures. That's the person I want to be."
"But aren't you already?"
"I think I'm getting there."
We talked awhile longer.
"Oh, Monica, I forgot to tell you. I have to work tomorrow. You know, demerit buildup."