It was Mary Kelly, the young red headed secretary, who caught Samuel Coe looking out of the office one morning into an apartment across the street. He could have been looking at a thousand things outside, but he wasn't. On this day, as usual, Samuel was taking a brief look into the apartment before the reflection of the morning sun obscured his view. A gap had opened widely where his shirt wasn't completely tucked under his pants and his belt squeezed tightly around his waste, distracting him from the pleasure of his observations. His efforts to get his shirt tail to stay straight under his belt were normally unsuccessful and his bloated stomach was to blame; he had been eating too many sweets, mainly muffins which, he believed were healthy.
Most of the office building had yet to fill with workers at such an early hour; or at least this is what Samuel thought. He turned his head to make sure no one had arrived in the office, even though he hadn't heard anyone enter. He leaned to the side to place himself at a better viewing angle, and saw a flash of movement through the window. Mary Kelly tapped him on the shoulder. "What are you doing there, Samuel?" Samuel didn't know whether she was reprimanding him or teasing him. He blushed and shuffled to his cubicle. Samuel had been a clerk at this office for many years. Even after the years of faithful service, he didn't have a clear idea of what the small company did to employ so many well accessorized young men who would occasionally look at him as he walked by, at times with their lips pursed or nostrils aflare. The young men always had some deal or another in the making. When no one was around, sometimes one of them would come up to Samuel's tiny cubicle and announce that he was involved in something huge and predicted that pretty soon things were going to blow sky high. Samuel understood none of it and wished all of them would limit their discussions to the filing and typing he was completing or pending requests to bring them lunch or coffee. In the hours that passed after Mary Kelly had discovered his secret morning ritual, fear of all the possible repercussions almost paralyzed Samuel. He hid in his cubicle and fiddled with papers and sharpened pencils; the grinding and pressure he felt at the end of the pencil after he inserted it into the hole offered him momentary alleviation of the stress he suffered. He wasn't on excellent terms with Mary, nor was he on poor terms with her. Their relationship was limited to meaningless yet cordial greetings and completing occasional tasks for one another, collegiality which, never had developed into more intimate nor frigid relations. Occasionally though, during slow work periods, sneaking into his mind were images of Mary's naked, pale body splayed on a large bed and her red hair spilling out onto the clean white sheets. To Samuel, Mary was about as real as his daydream of her.
Without any office confidant, Samuel was left with no other option than to sit at his desk imagining how the news of his transgression would be met throughout the office. Would he be brought in for a private conference, which had been the forum on many previous occasions when he had been admonished? Or would it be a dramatic escort to the elevator, with no allowance of time to clear out his possessions. Samuel lingered on the latter option, imagining his kitten calendar left in his cubicle as he was directed out of the building. His eyes welled up with tears. When Samuel gathered himself, he looked up to find Bill Mattson examining his cubicle. Bill looked at Samuel, the kitten calendar and the neat rows of sharpened pencils. Mary gave Samuel some documents to file and her smile lingered just long enough to frighten him. Mary and Bill departed together. Samuel placed the documents in his "to be filed" bin and decided to stay seated for a little longer as he expected that an answer to his fears would present itself and he wouldn't have to decide exactly what to do. Samuel completed the basic tasks of his job for the rest of the morning. At his side there was a chocolate muffin that he was reserving for later enjoyment. Everything was normal except that he had become the object of everyone's interest. Thankfully no upper managers stopped by, but from middle management down, they all strolled to the vicinity of his cubicle and lingered briefly as Samuel continued what he was doing, trying to ignore their presence. By morning's end, Alex Powers, the highest ranking of the middle managers, came up to him from behind and simply asked him how things were going, as he grasped Samuel's shoulders with his large, thick hands, and for a moment, squeezed the soft muscles before departing. All of this interaction had left Samuel overheated and flushed. He couldn't bear to remain in the cubicle a moment longer and walked quickly to the bathroom where he planned to relieve himself, take stock of the morning's events and to straighten his shirttail. All of the stalls were occupied and after being confronted by an almost overpowering stench, the scent of perfumes and colognes began to prevail. A young boy in uniform was spraying perfumes into the air. Samuel never remembered such an attendant working within the company. Was he not the messenger boy who transported files to other offices? Or perhaps it was the president's errand boy; the one who dry cleaned his uniforms daily. The boy waited next to the stalls to assess the nuances of the smells in order to eradicate them most swiftly. From the sink area he pulled a specific bottle from a large tray and darted back to the stalls where he sprayed into the most intense zones of potentially embarrassing stink. Randy Braddock stood in front of a urinal with his trousers unclasped and opened widely. He looked up to the ceiling as he attempted in little thrusts and surges to perform the task at hand. Samuel unzipped his pants feeling almost as if he too should open his trousers like Randy. He decided against it and pressed his body so close to the urinal that he could feel the cold porcelain against his arm. The uniformed boy returned to the perfume tray, examined the bottles on it for a few seconds and snagged another bottle from it before returning to the stall area. Now he had two different perfumes in his hands. A few beads of sweat ran from Samuel's brow as he discreetly observed Randy's behavior beside him. Randy turned his body slightly out towards Samuel and upon finishing, dramatically wiggled and yanked himself dry. The men exited from the stalls. They sniffed the air and were obviously overjoyed that the air was as sweet as if they had never visited the stalls. Samuel couldn't relieve himself. He stepped away from the urinal and all the men moved towards the sink. Samuel wanted to leave, but he would have to wash his hands since the men would be witnesses to his lack of hygiene if he had just walked out without cleaning himself. He washed his hands and the boy pulled steaming hot wash cloths from a silver box and handed them to the men who used them with great care. The boy collected the soiled cloths as the men waited to be offered lotions and gels. Once this base was applied, the boy pulled specific colognes from the tray for each man, except for Samuel, who washed his hands with delicate care for fear of splashing any of his superiors. The boy applied the scents to the men, squirting them in a rapid and efficient fashion. The men patted and petted the boy's head and tipped him with shining quarters. For a moment, Samuel directed his gaze into the mirror. The men stroked their necks and ran their long pink fingers through their hair. The men, as well as the boy, stood watching Samuel's every move. The room was quiet except for the sounds of rubbing and squirting as Samuel left the bathroom. Samuel was happy to get back to his cubicle. What had been oppressive and unbearable now became a safe haven once again. Perhaps he could just sit inside of it all day and when everyone left he would quickly gather his belongings and sprint out. His cubicle, however, wasn't protecting him completely. Despite the heavy application of perfumes and colognes, an unpleasant stink from the bathroom was still clinging to him. His shirt tail bulged out from his waist and he ripped off a piece of the chocolate muffin and stuffed it in his mouth. The office was quiet and deserted now. It seemed like he would have enough time to quickly open his pants and tuck in his shirt. Before he unhooked his belt, he placed another large chunk of muffin in his mouth. As he chewed, he turned his back to the outside of the cubicle and began to arrange himself. He bent his knees slightly so his pants wouldn't fall down. Mary Kelly then appeared behind him, saying, "Samuel, what is it that you're doing now!" Samuel closed his trousers quickly and opened his mouth to speak, but the thick chocolate from the muffin coating his lips and inside of his mouth prevented him from speaking. Mary pursed her lips, and stared at his mouth as her nostrils dilated. With her hand over her mouth and nose, Mary left. Samuel fumbled with his shirt and pants to put himself together as fast as he was able. It was about time for lunch and the president of the company strolled by Samuel's cubicle. He looked into Samuel's space, jiggled the change in his pocket and left in the direction that Mary Kelly had gone. Samuel sat down in his chair. He breathed through his nose as he chewed the rest of the muffin. The recent alarming events prevented him from fully enjoying the muffin and large pieces of the snack traveled in chunks down his throat. The chocolate from the muffin coated his teeth like grease that stains a freshly dry-cleaned white shirt. His telephone rang. The president requested that he come to his office. The worst possibility was happening. Samuel walked quickly down the hallway towards the corner office. He tried to jab his shirt under his belt and ran his dry tongue over his teeth. Sweat ran in thick rods down his face and his mouth became even drier. He passed a glass-walled conference room filled with men who appeared to be speaking candidly about something important yet humorous. As he approached the office, the bright light coming through the corner window shined into the hallway. Samuel walked into the light. "Samuel," the president said. "Come right in." A long trophy case stretching from ceiling to floor lined one wall. The president was leaning back on his desk and stood up when Samuel entered. The president slid his hand in his pocket and rattled around some change. "Samuel, I need to ask you a small favor," the president said. Samuel nodded his head. Would this be another discreet beginning to a humiliating reprimand, the type Samuel remembered suffering through during elementary school? Or was the president truly soliciting a favor, one man to another, regardless of the difference in their company rank? "I lost some change down behind my desk and I was wondering if you would retrieve it for me," the president said. Samuel bent over the president's desk. He could feel his shirt untucking and the uncomfortable pressure of the desk pushing against his stomach. The president stood behind Samuel and encouraged him. "Yes, there you are, if you only bend down a little further you shall undoubtedly find it all." Samuel came up a bit breathlessly and handed two quarters to the president. Sweat soaked his shirt and one side of his shirttail was hanging over the front of his pants. "Wonderful, wonderful," the president said. "Now go back down there one more time, if you would, and I believe you will find some more. I think it would be best if you positioned your entire body on my desk to increase the length of your reach. You don't know how much I appreciate this. I really do." The president's hand remained in his pocket as he casually leaned against the corner of the trophy case. As Samuel leaned over the desk to search more, the president looked at all of his trophies and award plaques and then watched Samuel perform his work. Samuel came up with a handful of change and handed it over to the president's puffy hand. "I think that's all of it," Samuel said. "Yes, I think you are right," said the president. "Samuel, if I may be frank, you have something brown on your teeth and this task has left you quite disheveled. Here, rinse you mouth out with some seltzer and lime and take a few moments to tuck yourself in. There's no need to worry, it's perfectly alright to do it right here." The president poured Samuel the seltzer, which sparkled radiantly in the sunlight coming through the corner windows. He smiled and said, "now go on, tuck in that shirt and I have one more task for you before lunch time." Samuel opened his pants as he had before, squatting a little as his belt hung to the side. The president leaned against the trophy case and watched Samuel flatten and even the shirt over his boxer shorts. Samuel inhaled and buttoned his pants and clasped his belt tightly. "I don't know if you’ve heard yet this morning, but the office is in a bit of chaos. To make matters worse, my assistant Frida is not in the office today. She called saying something about an illness. I don't know exactly what the excuse was since it was relayed to me from a second party who said she had received the message from the receptionist; but what has happened to her really isn't the issue. What I am telling you is that I'd like you to fill in for her for a few moments, or whatever time it takes for you to order lunch for all of those men in Conference Room A." The sun shined on the trophy case. The president's wife and children were frozen in portrait next to an autographed basketball and football. Samuel did nothing and suddenly noticed the great abundance of trophies and gilded plaques inside. The president was obviously very accomplished. "Samuel, I assume you are up to the task. You do need to know that many of the men have specific dietary needs, all of which I cannot tell you now nor would you be able to gather that information yourself since interrupting their meeting is out of the question. You can order whatever you want, but be very careful. Some of them are very sensitive and it isn't uncommon for them to fall ill if they are not offered a proper menu. Do you understand what I'm saying? You are familiar with the latest food intolerances and allergies?" The basketball was an official game ball of the NBA and the trophies lined up like a miniature skyline overpopulated with the tallest skyscrapers. The president's wife smiled with an almost grotesque twist rising in the corner of her mouth, an attribute that appeared to have been generously passed down to her progeny, who all smiled in the same manner. "There is a drawer full of menus and you can order by phone from Frida's desk. Get to work and let me know when the food arrives. I am growing very hungry," the president said patting his belly as he fondled the change in his other hand. The chocolate taste lingered in Samuel's dry mouth and his belt pressed tightly into his waist. Samuel pulled open the drawer and menus spilled from it. Completing this task would be the apex of his career as an office clerk. Never before had he been given so much responsibility nor put in charge of such a seemingly futile task. The phone rang and Samuel stopped as it continued ringing. The president said, "Samuel, pick up the phone." Samuel answered and transferred the call into the president. He began to separate the menus and the phone rang again. Samuel lost track of time as he answered more calls and read menus in between. The president called out, "Samuel, when will the food be arriving?" Samuel was sweating more and there was an unbearable hot zone building in the general area of his groin. The phone rang often and time passed with alarming rapidity. Samuel finished choosing the menus from which he would order and the heat intensified in between his legs. Samuel ran his tongue over his teeth and noticed a few hairs coming out of a gap in his shirt just over his belt. The president came out and asked, "When will the food be arriving?" Samuel said nothing and the president then saw the menus scattered across the desk. "Frida," the president called, "please relieve Samuel." Frida entered the room. Samuel started to put the menus back into the drawer but Frida stopped him. He stood up to leave and Frida gasped, putting her hand over her mouth and nose. A small, round spot of moisture soiled the center of the seat of the chair. Samuel opened his mouth to explain, but Frida, with her one hand still covering her mouth and nose, shooed Samuel away with her other hand. "Please, please," she said to him. Samuel waited in the hallway. The president came out and put his hand on Samuel's shoulder. "Samuel," he said, "why don't you take your lunch, come back and straighten your desk and finish up anything that you absolutely must complete. Once you've done everything, come to Conference Room A where we will be having a staff meeting around 4:00." Samuel went back to his cubicle, where the phone never rang and no one normally ever visited. He didn't want to leave the office for lunch nor did he want to stay and attend the meeting in Conference Room A. Samuel played with a quarter, running it in and out of his fingers as he fantasized about escaping his situation until he realized that it would be difficult to find another job so perfectly suited to his abilities as his current position. The quarter dropped out of his hands, rolled towards the back of his desk and fell into a corner under the desk before Samuel could snatch it up into his hand. He crouched down to look for it, adjusted his pants and crawled under his desk to search for the quarter. When he found it, he didn't immediately come out and paused to consider the morning’s events. Where did Frida come from? Wasn't she supposed to be ill? Did the president take him to be a complete fool? He remained, enjoying the quiet and the darkness. It would be a very pleasant area to take a nap and forget about all that had happened to him on this day. Mary Kelly walked by and Samuel saw her rosy painted toenails poking out of her sandals. The image of her naked body zipped through his mind for a moment. He rushed to come out from under the desk and when he stood up Mary was gone. Samuel put the quarter in his pocket and left for lunch. The president stood just inside of Conference Room A as Samuel passed. With his hand in his pocket, the president entertained all of the men who quietly listened and laughed when it seemed what he was saying was indicative of something humorous. The president pursed his lips and nodded once as Samuel passed him. Samuel spent lunch standing on the sidewalk, watching people pass by him. He drank several cups of coffee and smoked many light cigarettes before taking a short walk when he indulged in violent fantasies about his male co-workers and sexual scenarios involving Mary Kelly's luminescent flesh. On his way back to the office, he passed a few of his co-workers and they failed to notice his presence. Stepping into the elevator, Samuel's greetings directed towards other colleagues were met with silence. His lunch hour had well exceeded the hour and a half he normally took. Samuel expected some kind of note attached to his computer when he returned but no such note had been written. When he had walked to his cubicle, the president and all his men were still in Conference Room A and raucous laughter filtered out into the hallway; the president was obviously on a roll. The rest of the office was silent and Mary Kelly wasn't at her desk. Normally the afternoon mail was in his in-box, but the box was entirely empty. Samuel sat with nothing to do in his cubicle until the meeting started later that afternoon. Samuel walked into Conference Room A not a moment too early nor too late. All of the men were seated around a large mahogany table and Mary Kelly quietly sat at the far end. It appeared that the men had just enjoyed a four-course meal, with wine and dessert and an expensive liquor from a handsome bottle. Now they were sipping espressos. The impressive array of food scattered around the table startled Samuel as much as the casual presence of Mary, who also was drinking an espresso. As he searched for a vacant seat, two lower level managers were deciding on the position of a chair they put to the side of the table. At the other end of the table, the president stood up and said, "Samuel, why don't you sit down in that chair," as he pointed to the chair the men had just arranged. Mary Kelly pursed her glossed lips that glistened under the florescent light. When Samuel was seated on the chair, Mary walked over to a seat next to the president. She reached down to pull the chair under her and bent slightly forward, revealing her alabaster breasts. Samuel became slightly dizzy when he saw this incredible sight. He tried to focus his vision, but all he could see was a blur of red hair and pure, white skin. His bladder was now throbbing from the water he had drunk to counteract all of the jitters he had from the coffee he consumed at lunch. The president opened the meeting by saying, "I'm glad all of you could make it to the meeting. Most of you know why you are here this afternoon." He paused, looking contemplatively down into the grains of the mahogany, and jiggled the change in his pocket. Samuel was perplexed why the entire staff was present and only desired that it would soon end so that he could quickly make his way to the men's bathroom. The president placed his hand on Mary's shoulder and she inhaled deeply, squeezing her breasts together with her arms extended straight down between her legs. "Mary," he said, "congratulations on your promotion to Associate Researcher. We're happy to have you on board." The staff politely clapped and the pain in Samuel's bowels increased. The uniformed boy from the men's bathroom entered the conference room and handed Mary a gift that all associates received: a silver platter filled with aromatic soaps, perfumes, lotions and gels. With the president's encouragement, Mary patted the boy on his head and handed him some change she took from her purse. Samuel could no longer endure the sharp pain in between his legs, and he quietly slid his chair out from under the table and began to discreetly leave the conference room. "Samuel?" the president said, looking at him, and then, Mary. Mary giggled in return, her chest shaking in a nervous shudder. Staff members glanced at each other, their eyebrows raised, lips pursed, and nostrils flaring. They chuckled, and Mary and the president exhaled the big laugh they were barely trying to hold back. The laughter turned into guffaws as everyone looked back and forth, from Samuel to each other. The unrelenting laughter echoed down the hallway as Samuel headed to the men’s room. The men's bathroom was deserted when Samuel rushed in. After he relieved himself, he paced back and forth and nervously jammed his shirt haphazardly under his belt before he returned to his cubicle in order to collect his things before leaving this nightmare behind him forever. No job was worth such outrageous humiliation. He rubbed some lotion on his hands and applied some kind of cologne under his chin. The cologne smelled nice. Samuel left the bathroom and noticed that everyone was still in Conference Room A. The sun had passed over the office building, casting shadows into its interior. Samuel walked up to the same window that he had been looking through during the morning and glanced one more time into the apartment across the street. As he looked, he thought about Mary, her promotion, red hair and powdery-soft skin. His position in the company repulsed him, but he also reflected how much he would long for his cubicle if he quit his job and the camaraderie with his co-workers, even if it were somewhat distant. When he had decided that he would try to keep his job at all costs, a woman appeared before him in the window. Their gazes met and a shock ran down Samuel's spine at the vision he beheld before his eyes. She smiled at him and then Mary tapped him on his shoulder and said, "Samuel, what is it that you’re doing now? There's work to be done in the conference room." |
