Obsession

Outside the car, all four of us stood on the sidewalk, we awkwardly wait for someone to initiate the goodbyes. Jack is the first to do so, taking hold of Alice in a hug and thanking her for her company. He then takes hold of me, leaving absolutely no doubt to anyone watching exactly whose company he has preferred more. I’m blushing hard when he finally lets me go, neither one of us left with any need to confirm verbally what we’re both thinking.

Logan follows suit, hugging Alice first before moving on to me, as though leaving his favorite chocolate for last.

“Same again next weekend?” Logan asks, when he’s finally come to terms with having to let me go for the night.

“Okay”, I say, unable to stop my eyes from flicking between the both of them. “I’d really like that.”

If the person with me were anyone other than Alice, she might feel a little heartbroken. As it is, Alice takes the absence of the same question from Jack - her date for the night - without issue. I know she knows how important this is for me, and without asking her I can tell she has the same opinion. Jack and Logan are clearly my perfect match.

“I guess I’ll see you on Monday”, Jack says.

“Yep”, I say meekly, unable to wipe the smile off my face.

“Think about the story in the meantime”, he adds. “We can’t bury a pirate’s head and not provide a map to find it.”

“I’ll call you”, Logan says, and a moment later they are back in the car.

I wave as they pull away and watch for as long as I can until the car finally disappears in the haze of lights in the distance.

“I’m in love”, I say, as though suffering shock. “I think I’m actually in love.”

Alice can’t help but laugh. “I don’t know how you do it, Penny”, she says, wrapping her arms around me, “but I don’t think you’re the only one.”

Part 3

Chapter Sixteen

I spend the rest of the weekend drawing: elaborate sex scenes that might not even be possible to achieve, a reworking of the end of Friday night in which the twins take me back home to the invented house they share in Brooklyn for hour after hour of passionate indulgence, a sneak peak into our future together as the world’s most interesting threeway couple. When I’m done, I have almost an entire erotic graphic novel with myself as the female protagonist, and an insatiable desire to act it out for real.

I haven’t heard from Jack or Logan, but I hope that while I’ve been busy illustrating my naughty fantasies over the last few days, they might have been working in collaboration to see whether what I am almost certain they both want with me, might actually work for real.

Last week I was on the way to the comic book store, dreading the drudgery that lay ahead, while right now I can’t wait to get into my brand new office to work on something I love, while Jack stands so close to me I can count the beats of his heart.

In all other ways, this is a normal morning. I share the bus with commuters going to work for the day, outside the weather is changeable, the world beyond my own head is the same as it always has been, yet I know I’ve begun the most important journey of my life.

To everyone else I’m sure I look like just another girl in a million others walking their way through the world like everyone else, only I don’t feel like that girl any more. I feel alive in ways I have never experienced before, ecstatically happy at the fresh possibility of true love with Jack and Logan, and genuinely accepted as myself, despite all of my idiosyncrasies, preoccupations and weird obsessions.

I know I shouldn’t get my hopes up in case I’ve completely misread the situation, but I can’t help it. I know I’m not Sherlock Holmes either, but by the way those two men were looking at me on Friday, even Lionel Hutz would have declared they were hot for me, ticking, tapping, prime numbers and all of my other myriad peculiarities.

I see the studios of Prometheus Productions looming in the distance like a gigantic secret science park only very important people get to work in, and wonder how I’ve managed to completely miss them before. To be honest, the collection of buildings look like anything but a film studio, and if I didn’t know they were, I wouldn’t have guessed it.

The bus drops me off with a collection of other people, a few of whom seem to be headed the same way. I fall in behind them, close enough that it looks like we are together for someone looking from a distance, far enough away for the opposite effect up close. I distract my mind away from thinking about Jack’s powerful forearms by pretending I’m a spy working for a rival organisation about to break in, seduce the boss and steal the top secret manuscript.

Forgetting momentarily about the restricted access in the place, I make a fool of myself by trying to push through the turnstile entry system as though the thing operates like the ones in banks, and give my wrist a painful twist when the metal bars don’t budge.

“Card?” the security guard says to me without rising from his seat. If this were really a film, he’d be reading the sports section of the newspaper without feeling the need to look at me at all.

“Sorry, I’m new”, I say. “I don’t have a card yet.”

The security guard sighs as automatically as a cloud turns evaporated water into rain.

“Which department?” he says, folding up his imaginary newspaper.

“I’m not sure”, I say. “I’m going to be working with Jack.”

He frowns. “Got a surname?”

I resist the urge to give him mine, shaking my head instead.

“Are you sure this is the right place?”

“Wait”, I say, suddenly remembering it. “I have the number of his secretary, Candy.”

I dig around in my purse and hand it over to him. He scrutinizes it, deems it appropriate and reaches for his telephone. “Name?”

“Penny Breen”, I say proudly.

When Candy has been informed of my arrival, and the security guard seems satisfied enough, he opens the top drawer of his desk, fishes out what must be one of several temporary cards, and hands it over to me. “Sign and date”, he says. “Make sure you hand that back at the end of the day.”

I sign and date the form, tap the card against the reader and smile at the grumpy security guard as I pass through the turnstile, the first mission of the day complete.

I remember the way to Jack’s department as well as I might the way to the bathroom at home, which considering the size of this place isn’t something I know everyone has the capacity to do. I smile at people as I pass them, normal people wearing normal clothes, wearing normal smiles and going about their normal jobs, with their normal lives just as perfect as they want them. They look happy to be here and content with their lot, which is a world away from the glum depression I had to deal with from staff and customers alike at the comic book store.

I tap my card like a seasoned professional, pass through corridors, turnstiles, gates and doors and eventually make my way to Jack’s department, while I pretend this might be Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory and I’m dancing my way through a montage scene. Candy smiles at me excitedly as she sees me arrive, before waving her arms like one of those huge inflatables outside car showrooms to call me over.

I feel bad about thinking she might try and advance her career by sucking a hundred meters of cock, because even though she might choose to dress provocatively it doesn’t mean she’s okay with devaluing herself like that.

“Hey, Penny”, she says.

“Hey, Candy”, I say back.

“Ready for your first day of work?”

I nod enthusiastically. “Is Jack here?” I ask innocently.

Candy gives me the same suspicious look she gave me last week at the interview, seeing straight through the reason for my question.

“Jack’s always here”, she says plainly. “And you’ll be pleased to know he’s asked me to send you straight into him. I think he’s got some kind of specific project he wants

to get you to start working on straight away.”

“Okay”, I say, trying as best as I can to hide my excitement.

“Great!” Candy says, her professional requirement to be animated at all times outweighing her clear personal envy at the close proximity I’m going to be working with our sexy boss. “You can go straight through.”

“Into his office?” I ask.

“You remember where it is?”

I remember the exact floorplan of a hostel in Maine we visited for summer vacation when I was five years old, of course I remember it. “Down here to the left, last office on the right?” I ask.

“Bingo! I wish I had a memory like yours”, Candy enthuses.

“Do I need to sign anything?” I ask.

“We’ll do all that stuff later on. Go and get settled in”, Candy says, and then with an ambiguous tone. “I’m sure Jack will keep you busy for a while.”

I smile, thank her for her assistance and make my way to Jack’s office. The department is mostly open plan with a handful of meeting rooms and offices, all of which have been finished in a modern, industrial architectural style. There are posters up, plants, huge windows to let in natural light, areas in which to get coffee and chill out and a workforce that look every bit as excited to be here as they would do in their own homes, kind enough to look up to me as I pass, to return the smile I give them.

At Jack’s office, I pause briefly to compose myself, take a deep breath and knock as firmly as I dare on the thick wooden door.

“Come in”, calls Jack’s inimitable voice from beyond, and it takes me immediately back to our first date and the rest of the weekend’s feverish endeavour to try and temper my overflowing libido.

This is it, the beginning of a new stage in my life. A new job, hopefully a new relationship with not just one, but two people, a real chance at the kind of happiness that helps to keep my obsessions in check. I take another deep breath, focus on what’s important and then push the door open to the magic that lies beyond.