WAGE WHORE
Work had a new luster. Bob had no power to ruffle me, much to his irritation.
What the Hell could he do to me? Fire me? Right, I'd love to make 80% of my
wage to sit at home and write for a year and a half. My workload seemed to be a
breeze and handled fairly easily. It was almost a treat to be there I felt so
good. Relaxed and very satisfied. The delicate pull of my muscles and my
various bruises almost a delight. An undertone to the buzz of sexual energy
that floated around me in, what I thought was, an invisible cloud. [It wasn't.]
Janie noticed it. At about 3:30 PM the curiosity got the better of her and she
came over to me. My usually messy desk was clean. She grinned when she sat on
the edge of my desk.
"You had a good weekend." I shrugged, grinning back at her. "In fact, you had
the best weekend that you've had in a long time, maybe years." Her face was
alight with the radiance of knowledge. She knew what I had done, just not the
details.
"Jesus, Janie. Why do you say that?"
"Don't be dense. You got laid. Want to tell me about it?" I shook my head. I
somehow didn't think that she would understand. I could just see her face if I
looked her in the eye and said; ` You're right. I was tied up and beaten all
weekend.' I knew she wouldn't understand. Not at all. I had no one to tell.
The thing was that I didn't know if that was good or bad. I let Janie stew.
She was sure that I would eventually tell her all, so I let her think it.
Trying to come up with some suitably vanilla lie about my weekend. Already I was
insulating my life in a cloak of deception. What would it do to me in the long
run. Something to think about.
