the company ink

“You bitch!”

I was back from lunch not ten minutes when Justine, the saucy receptionist, barged in and planted herself in a chair in my office to grill me. An un-opened email from one of the secretaries sat in my inbox, undoubtedly expressing the same sentiment. I’d been seen leaving with New Boy. And the office rumor mill was grinding at full speed.

“Girl, he’s so hot.”
“He’s nice,” I said. “And young.”
“Every girl needs a boy toy.”
“He’s not my boy toy! He just asked me to lunch.”
“You’re so gonna tap that. And if you’re not, send him my way.”
“Justine!”

My own experience with the company ink is still fresh enough in my mind to prevent any such… tapping. David. Architect. Six months of hot elevator rides and one very messy break-up later, I was done with office romance. Forever. Sure, there was a bit of a scandal later with the Indy Rock Boy, but we kept it strictly to after-work drinking and frenzied cab rides. After he quit.

When Justine left, tsking under her breath, I clicked on my Outlook. Sure enough, there was an email telling me that New Boy not only “looks like a Baldwin” but is office-rated as very kissable. I had to agree. There was also an email from New Boy himself, whose smart-assedness was decidedly flirtatious.

I had to grin a bit out of self-satisfaction.

While I’ll admit, the idea is intriguing, I’d like to think I’m a girl who’s learned a lesson or two from her mistakes. One awkward coffee room moment and suddenly no amount of frisky elevator interlude is worth it. This I know. Thankfully, this office is not a social one and there are very few occasions where we all go out and get liquored up. Because, well, under the influence, I tend to rationalize. And get a little frisky.

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