The Truth

“This thing is as big as my face!” I exclaim, grinning as I hold the drink up next to my head. With two hands, of course, because after Jasmine’s buildup of this thing, I’m not going to risk spilling it.

“Probably bigger,” Stephanie corrects, flicking her eyes left and right as she compares. “More like the size of Megan’s ass.”

Megan makes a noise of surprise, and Stephanie pats her hand. “It’s a compliment. It’s a big drink, but you’ve got a little ass.” When Megan smiles shyly, Stephanie toasts, “To tiny tooters, big hooters, and a weekend of utter debauchery.”

Megan pales but lifts her glass carefully. I do the same, adding, “Could we not get an HR complaint, please? The sexual harassment video is so stupid, and I don’t want to waste time watching it more than once a year.”

Megan laughs, telling me, “It’s fine. Steph and I give each other a hard time, but we’re good.”

“Yeah, I’m teaching her things.” Stephanie does air quotes around ‘things’ with an exaggerated wink.

“Slutty things,” Megan adds, though she stutters even saying the word ‘slutty’.

Stephanie is the first to take a sip, both Megan and I being a little more cautious. Her eyebrows go up, and she takes a deeper draw the second time before exclaiming, “Mmmmm! Sweet and creamy. They should rename this the Fantasy Blow Job! Because I’m gonna swallow every drop!” She makes a slurping sound, encouraging Megan and me to drink up.

Megan blushes, but her reaction to the drink is the same, and I have to admit that it’s a damn good drink. It’s fruity and sweet, like dessert more than alcohol, and after a few sips, we’re all able to loosen up.

“So . . . this giving you any ideas for Davis?” Stephanie asks Megan at one point, taking the big straw and licking it up and down before sucking a big mouthful of her drink through hollowed cheeks. After she swallows, she crosses her eyes and opens her mouth in some facial expression she calls the ‘ahegao’, moaning loud enough to get the attention of the guys at the next table.

“Uhm, hey there,” one of them says with a wave.

“Stellar opener,” Stephanie replies sarcastically. Her eyes flick around the few other slack-jawed guys at the table, and then she adds, “Though I guess you get credit for having the biggest balls at your table. Only problem? They’re still not as big as mine.”

The guys squirm uncomfortably, and I have to laugh. “You are something else. Reminds me of myself in my younger days.”

“You’re not old,” Megan says reassuringly.

I lift a brow. “I didn’t say I was. I said, ‘in my younger days’. You know, like yesterday.” That’s not true, though. I used to be much crazier and more confrontational, but I’ve settled down a bit now, growing up and maturing. I can still go a bit wild, but it’s a one-off, not my lifestyle.

Megan tries to recover from her verbal misstep and returns to Stephanie’s previous comment about blow jobs. As innocent as she is, she suggests, “You should try that with Ken in the IT Department.”

Stephanie grins. “Maybe I already have.” They both laugh, and I can tell this is a continuation of a conversation they’ve already had. I don’t feel left out, though. Instead, I appreciate their friendship. The conversation shifts to Ken in IT and then to office gossip. I join in but mostly listen, paying attention to the news tidbits they drop. The truth is, even though I’ve made the front desk staff more respected and professional than we ever were before, we’re still invisible.

But that’s to our advantage. Being no more noticed than the corner Ficus tree means people talk around us all the time. It’s not hard to get your fill of the tea when folks just spill around you constantly. We might as well be the Boston Harbor.

Like Mark and Brandon, two rival junior executives. They don’t know it, but they’re both dating the same woman, and both are so wrapped around her finger that they might as well have her name on collars around their necks.

How do we know this? Because we’ve transferred her calls to both of them.

“So, The Lady picked up Brandon yesterday,” Stephanie reveals. “He looked like a puppy dog getting into her BMW.” She holds her hands beneath her chin like paws and sticks her tongue out, panting.

The guys at the next table swat each other, drawing attention to Stephanie’s new posed expression. She sighs, dropping her hands, and adds, “Probably had a gift ready for her, too. Dick or dollars, one or the other for sure.”

“You think we should tell them?” Megan asks. “I mean, if they want to be a sugar daddy, that’s one thing, but milking two guys in the same office dry? That could be trouble.”