At Work

Leigh sat at the large oval conference table drumming her fingers on the polished mahogany. The first hour of the meeting had been entertaining. She wondered how the union representative could argue so fervently against the elimination of vacant positions without actually frothing at the mouth.

The second hour was rapidly approaching a torturous mix of tooth extraction and hemorrhoid inflammation. She thought to herself how she would rather strap on a wooden beak and go peck shit in the yard with chickens as opposed to sitting here. OK, so she was the one who made the recommendation for those cuts but it was the Vice President who finalized the deal. Let her argue her case.

And argue she did. Forcefully--with passion and conviction. It was a sound business decision. The money saved would pay for other, more necessary jobs—a fact that any being higher on the evolutionary scale than a grub worm should be able to see.

Leigh found herself drawn to the voice of Vice President, Margaret Hathaway. First female Vice President of Customer Service in the history of the company. Quite an accomplishment but one that brought with it a great deal of criticism and second guessing. Maybe that’s what caused Margaret to be so aloof, almost cold in her demeanor. Her features, at times, appeared drawn, pinched, as if she was perpetually sucking on a sourball. At other times, if only briefly, she would laugh and Leigh would be caught off guard by how much more attractive Margaret became.
Margaret's eyes were deep brown—bottomless. Her skin had that rich olive tone which was contrasted very nicely by dark brown almost black hair streaked here and there with grey. Distinguished. Leigh watched the way Margaret's lips formed her words and she found her thoughts drifting towards images that had no place in this setting.

Leigh was brought out of her reverie by the sharp slapping sound of Margaret's hand against the table. “I’m through discussing this issue with you Rick. The decision has been made and I stand by it. No amount of arguing, sniveling, cajoling, what-all, is going to make me change my mind,” she stated.

Strength and determination.

Power.

Leigh shivered.

Leigh recognized that the meeting was over and began gathering her pile of papers. She smiled to herself because the members of the union grievance team were looking as if they had just been pole-axed. It was all she could do not to laugh out loud at their plight.

"Leigh, come with me please.” Margaret walked purposefully from the room leaving no time for any other discussion or objections. She followed the Vice President down the hall and into her office. The corner view on the upper floor was spectacular. It looked right out over the park sitting on the bluff overlooking the lazy river. The water was hypnotic and she was grateful that her office did not have this view. She’d never get anything done.

She heard the office door close and turned to see Margaret throw her things on her desk then gesture to the small conference table. “Have a seat. I’ve got 5 more departments that need to be examined just like that one. I’ve asked to have you permanently assigned to this project, at least until it’s over. We’re going to make sure that we get this right which means you and I will be spending some time together up here. So help me, I will not deal
with that group of cretins again.”

Leigh nodded to the offer of coffee as she pulled the chair back away from the table and sat down. “What I don’t get is why we include them in the conversations in the first place.” She pulled the tray with the cream and sugar closer then added a bit of each to the hot coffee. Slowly, she stirred the mixture then took a sip all the while waiting for a response from the Vice President.

"Courtesy I suppose, which I find highly annoying.”

Margaret was now sitting across the table. Long fingers with medium length manicured nails curled around the plain white mug. Leigh saw strength and felt her cheeks redden slightly as she imagined the sensations from their divine intrusion.
In the days that followed, Leigh worked almost constantly with Margaret. When working in Margaret's office, she sat where she had an unobstructed view of the door and watched the Vice President coming and going down the hallway. There was a distinct sway to Margaret's hips that Leigh found very enticing. It mimicked the swing of a lantern hung from the mast of a boat. It drew one’s eye and held it. Many times Leigh had found herself holding her breath while watching the woman walk away from her. People may have complained about Margaret's lack of personality but most had to agree that she sported a very nice ass.

Leigh also noticed how the medium-heeled shoes helped shape Margaret's legs. Legs that showed definite curves and the slightest hint of muscle which were covered in black stockings. Leigh loved that. Margaret wore them everyday and it was all Leigh could do not to put her hands on the woman’s legs. The feel of silk beneath her hands was a powerful aphrodisiac.

Still, there was a certain coldness about Margaret. Not exactly insecurity in her position but certainly one of constantly looking over her shoulder for attacks on her ability or lack thereof, as some hinted. That had to wear on a person. It made her short-tempered at times and led many to use unflattering names when referring to her.

It was late on a Friday evening and they were still in the office. Leigh’s stomach had the bad manners to growl in protest, certain that its access to food had been permanently interrupted. Margaret looked up over the rim of her glasses sitting low on her nose and suddenly barked out a laugh. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hungry?”

"I don’t even think I was aware of it until just now.”

Margaret pushed back from the table and walked over to her desk then flipped through her rolodex. “Chinese OK with you?”

"Of course.” Same as it had been on any number of nights that they’d called it in. “I’ll go get drinks.”

Margaret gestured for Leigh to wait then covered the receiver with her hand. "Look in the refrigerator. I brought some drinks from home.”

Leigh bent down and peered into the mini fridge and was a bit surprised to find bottles of beer in there. “I would never have suspected you to be a beer drinker.”

Margaret laid the phone in the cradle and returned to the table. “I expect there are lots of things you wouldn’t suspect me of.” She smiled and took the offered beer. With great ease, she twisted the cap off and took a good long drink. “Well, that just hits the spot."

Leigh nodded, still a bit surprised, and followed suit. “Should I go wait for dinner to show up?”

Margaret shook her head. “No. I’ve asked the security guard to bring it up after it gets here.”

The phone rang. Leigh got up to answer thinking it would be the guard’s desk. “Margaret Hathaway's office. Leigh speaking.”

"Is she there?” came the hollow sounding voice from the other end.

Leigh raised her eyebrows a bit and looked over at Margaret. “Hey David. She’s here….” Margaret was vigorously shaking her head no. “…..but she’s gone downstairs to get dinner. Can I take a message?” Leigh moved the phone away from her ear certain that the voice exploding through from the other end could be heard across the room. Margaret sighed and walked over yanking the phone from Leigh’s hand.

Diplomatically, Leigh left the room and went downstairs to pace about the lobby. After what seemed like an eternity, the food was delivered. She went back upstairs hoping that enough time had passed for the phone call to end. Margaret's husband had called almost every night and almost every night they ended in an argument. Not only was Margaret catching it at work but she was taking hell at home as well. I’d be grumpy too, Leigh thought.

It was quiet when she reached the outer office. She stood for a moment listening to make certain Margaret was no longer on the phone. When she walked in, she found the Vice President standing by the windows looking out into the darkness. The headlights on the streets below looked like lightening bugs flitting about in orderly lines. The river reflected the lights’ glow back up and it twinkled in her dark brown eyes. Without
turning around she spoke in a measured voice. “He just doesn’t understand. He has never understood.”

Leigh said nothing and began to take the food from the bags and place them on the table. She often wondered who came up with the idea of these small cardboard buckets for Chinese food.

"He’s never had to work twice as hard to prove himself…………on anything.”

"No, I would guess not.” Leigh replied.

"He’s never been talked about behind his back.”

Leigh kept putting food on the table. This was a little personal for her taste.

"He’s never been the first at something. He doesn’t understand the pressure to succeed.” Margaret turned and Leigh could tell that she’d been crying. There was that tell-tale puffiness around the eyes that no amount of make-up could hide.

"I don’t imagine many would understand the pressure. Come sit and eat before it gets cold.” Leigh had no idea what else to say. No, Leigh had no idea what was appropriate to say.

Margaret walked over and plopped down in the chair, an air of resignation and defeat floating about her. “They call me a Bitch. I know what they say because I’ve heard most of them. They are just hovering like buzzards hoping I’ll fail.”

Leigh sat down and held her chopsticks poised over one of the buckets of some spicy meat and vegetable combination. “Not that I’m defending any of them, whoever “them” is, but, you do put up this barrier. Makes it hard for anyone to get to know you.” She took a bite and waited for the outburst. None came.

Margaret sat there staring at Leigh. “What do you mean?”

Leigh sat with a wad of noodles and thinly sliced beef swinging from the tips of her chopsticks poised to go into her mouth. “You really want to know?”

"I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

Leigh swallowed the bite almost without chewing and held her breath to keep from choking. “For instance, the beer. I’ll bet there’s not another person in this company that wouldn’t be shocked that you drink beer. That’s common, as my Grandmother would say. Proper women don’t drink beer.” She made a quoting gesture with her fingers. “Hell, I’ve worked with you almost constantly for a month and I didn’t even know it.”

"I can’t afford to be vulnerable.”

Leigh took another bite. “Vulnerable is one thing. Bitch is another. What people see is a cold woman who doesn’t give a damn about anything but rising to the top.” Certainly that would put her over the edge. Nothing.

"I’m not cold.”

"But that’s what people see. The Iron Maiden, is one of the more endearing terms I’ve heard used. Everybody asked me what in the hell had I done to get picked by you. I even received one sympathy card.”

Leigh looked over the top of the little bucket and watched for a reaction. She wasn’t prepared for the tears again. “My stars Margaret, most of them don’t even know you have children and some wonder whether you even have a heart. You don’t always have to be so hard. You’ve relaxed here and it hasn’t killed you has it?”
“No but only because you make me feel comfortable. And I picked you because…”

Leigh interrupted deciding that bluntness was the course du jour here. "Blah. You picked me because I can do the numbers but that’s hardly the point here. We’re talking about your reputation. I’ve come to know you a little better than most only because you get tired and lower your guards. I know you’re not cold but they don’t.”

"I picked you because I admire your ability to handle different groups of people. Because you’re smart and because I’ve had my eye on you for a while now.”

Leigh blinked not daring to show any reaction. “..eye on you for a while,” she thought. Of course it was because of work. Or was it? Leigh thought about and began to become aware of just how many times Margaret had accidentally brushed against her or how often she reached over and touched Leigh’s hand while talking. It was Leigh’s opinion that Margaret did nothing by chance.

They sat for a few minutes in an uneasy but necessary silence. Margaret finished her beer then rolled the bottle back and forth between her hands. "And what do you think?”

Leigh began to bounce her leg under the table.
"I think you’re an intelligent and driven woman put into a position of either failing or succeeding and given no guidance. I think the responsibility is heavy and is beginning to wear on you. I think an encouraging word from your husband every now and again would do a great deal in lifting some of the stress you feel. I think letting a few people close to you that you could trust would help ease some of the crap here. And I think you have a sweet snore.”

Margaret's eyes flew open. “I don’t snore.”

"Yep, you do but thank the stars you didn’t drool. You have fallen asleep on the table twice and both times I heard these soft little snores. Was adorable.” Leigh poked in the bucket for another bite of food.

Margaret finally laughed and the tension in her shoulders seemed to melt away if only for a moment then she stared at Leigh. “How do you do it?”

"Do what?”

"Put up with the gossip. Everybody knows you’re gay and they all whisper about it.”

"Because I don’t care what they think. As corny as this might sound, everybody who I give a damn about already knows and it’s fine with them. The rest of the people out there are ants to me.”

"That’s got to be a nice feeling.” Margaret voice was soft, almost wistful. “I want that.”
“What?”
“That feeling you have. I want to know what it’s like be that free.”

Leigh washed down her food with another swig of beer, the affects of which were not going unnoticed by her. “At some point you have to stop caring what most of them think. You’re riding the big chair now. Have a little faith in your abilities and tell the others to go fuck themselves.”

"If only I could be so blunt with them. I’ve watched how you talk to some people and have come to admire that quality about you.”

Leigh laughed. “Not everybody finds it refreshing. I get away with it because I don’t give a damn and there’s quite a bit of freedom in that. You know, turning 40 changed my entire outlook on life. It was as if the doors of freedom to experiment were just blown wide open.”

"I can see where it would be. For some reason, though, I don’t think I could get away with it.”

"What, because I’m a dyke makes a difference?”

"No…yes……..I don’t know. Maybe. The rules are different. Have you ever had something you wanted to do—something you’ve never done before—but were terrified to try?”
Leigh laughed. “You mean in just the last 24 hours?”
“I’m serious!”
“Yes, hundreds of times.”
“But I’ll bet you did them anyway.”
Leigh thought for a moment, her finger making a design in the sweat running down the sides of her bottle. “Not all of them but some. What are you afraid to try?”
Margaret shrugged. “Things.”
“And what stops you?”
“Failure. Rules.”

Leigh sighed. Margaret was missing the entire point and it was beginning to wear on her last nerve. “To hell with the rules. That’s what I’m trying to tell you here. Jeez o pete, isn’t it time you found the freedom to be or do whatever you want?”

Leigh rubbed her eyes, looked at her watch then stood up and began to pack away the food. “Jeez, it’s 1:00AM. Look, it’s late and we both need sleep. I’ll put all of this away. Why don’t you go home, make nice with the husband and take some time in the morning. No need to race in like you always do.”

Leigh slid her feet back into her loafers then walked over to the refrigerator and squatted down to put away the Chinese buckets. That still cracked her up. When she stood, she felt arms go around her waist and lips search out the lines and edges of her neck. Electric tingles ran down her legs and back up again making her nipples instantly hard. It took a few seconds for her to realize just what was happening. She felt herself being turned with hands full of the strength that she’d guessed at earlier.

All right, so she’d recommended that the Vice President make her own rules but this wasn’t exactly what she had envisioned. Still….and before she could protest, lips were covering hers. Warm, soft lips. Lips that parted hers and went searching for her tongue finding it again and again. Sliding against hers. Teasing hers. Withdrawing then penetrating her mouth over and over. Someone was taking charge and it felt good.

Without speaking, Margaret backed Leigh against the table then reached down to unfasten her slacks. The fumbling and nervousness was high school—first time teenagers in the backseat of a parents’ station wagon. Leigh smiled against the lips pressed so demandingly against hers then felt a hand reach down inside her pants and curl against her rounded mound of hair and swollen flesh.

"I’m not sure……….” Leigh finally managed to whisper.

"Shut up,” was the only response she got followed by another long hard kiss.

Somehow her shirt was unbuttoned and her bra lifted to reveal her breasts. She felt Margaret's warm mouth cover her nipple, her tongue playing with and causing it to harden and grow. Leigh’s mouth opened trying to draw in a breath. Her knees were weakening forcing herself to brace against the table and hold on for all she had.

Margaret worked her tongue around the growing nipple moving from one back to the other. Leigh’s clit screamed. It couldn’t take being ignored much longer.

Margaret pushed Leigh up on the table and laid her back to rest on her elbows. Leigh’s slacks found themselves down around her ankles then thrown across the room landing in a pile on the floor. She was wet and she knew it. It damn near ran down her legs. Margaret kneeled and buried her face in the warmth. Salty. Sweet. Musky and divine. Her tongue darted between Leigh’s swollen lips and teased her clit. Licking. Flickering back and forth, sign language of sex. Fingers suddenly plunged deep inside Leigh and at that she nearly lost consciousness. Her head fell back and she gave in to every sensation she was feeling. The idea that this was one of the Vice Presidents barely entered her mind.

She was full of Margaret. Long fingers reached deep and drew out every reaction possible. Those fingers curled against the sweet spots—all of them. They found everything hidden away inside her while Margaret's tongue made sculptures from the soft flesh that was her clit. Margaret stroked and formed it until Leigh felt herself losing control.
The wave began in her middle—twisting, coiling and writhing then suddenly rushing towards the outer reaches of her body. The explosion in her mind pulled the awareness of her surroundings to a pinpoint in her brain then threw it back out again. She roared then lay still.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. She could barely breathe. She lay there in a small puddle on the polished conference table and tried to bring herself back to the here and now. Her reverie was intruded upon by the hand that took hers and guided it down between the legs of the now naked woman standing between her own spread knees.
Leigh sat up, just at the right height to take each nipple in her mouth and return the favor she had just been given. They grew against her tongue. They became hard and Margaret held a firm grip in Leigh’s hair making certain that she didn’t move away from those nipples.

Leigh ran her fingers through lower lips flush with blood and heat. Wet from excitement and anticipation. She lightly touched Margaret wanting to hold off and make her wait but found that the Vice President had other ideas. She reached down and steered Leigh’s fingers, four of them rubbing the burning flesh. Stroked it. Pressed against it.

Leigh slipped inside her, their hands lightly bumping each other, both fighting for position. Leigh’s fingers curled and slid quickly in and out trying to keep a steady pace. “Harder,” Margaret whispered, all proper decorum abandoned to the moment.

She felt Margaret begin to tense, to hold on to keep from falling. Leigh leaned up and kissed Margaret, covering her mouth to catch the moans that came from it, tasting hints of herself still there. She held Margaret with one arm while continuing to curl inside her until Margaret shuddered hard and fell against her.

She continued to hold Margaret, both of them breathing in short, ragged gasps. Leigh noted that Margaret’s hair had a faint tropical scent to it which made her mouth water ever so slightly. “Well, I would say that you’ve overcome your fear of failure. And quite nicely, I might add.”
Margaret laughed softly. “Would seem so. Of course, this will require regular practice so that the fear doesn’t return.”
“Really?”
“Mm hmm….heard it on Oprah just the other day. And I’m certainly not one to shy away from practice,” Margaret said as she moved in to kiss Leigh again.