morocho1979 blog

I was sitting in my office, like usual. My very own office, one I earned for myself a little over a year ago. It had minimum decoration, only a few things that left a lot of empty space in the walls and the floor, making the room look even bigger. It had a couch that could seat two people. Almost every office in the company had one in which three people could fit, so you could be more comfortable. But not mine, I liked to be close to people, like when you can rub them. It makes it more intimate, more tangible.

Anyway, there I was. Without my shoes, because I like feeling more relaxed while I work, especially when I work overtime like in those days. Sometimes I even forgot that I didn’t have my shoes on and you could see me walking to the office kitchen or getting some paperwork on my socks, and everyone stared at me like I was too comfortable. And sometimes also without socks.

I remember that summer evening, we were trying to finish all the work by the end of the month, with all the air conditioners off because of the power cuts in the neighborhood. We were using an electrical generator only for lights and computers, the basics. Pamela was there, thirty-something, she had just started in accounting and I was named her tutor. Patrick was there also, a very old employee who was just forgotten in some unimportant position until he retired in a few years. And Stella was there too, a 50-year-old hypocrite prut who I had never seen smiling, really never. She didn’t have the slightest sense of humor or lust, or that was what everybody said about her.

My door and windows were open, so air could flow. You could feel a light breeze which made the work a little easier, but you could still feel the summer heat on your body and the sweat running through your forehead. From my office, I could see Pamela who I had never paid special attention to since she joined my team, but there was something about her that day. So, I took a folder that needed to go over with before Monday, with the hope of not having to redo the job, and got up to give it to her. When I was near her, I saw she was totally inside her mind with her Excel Sheet in front of her. “One second O’Connor, I’ll be with you in a moment,” she told me. I started to glance down at her face, her glasses, and her nape when I noticed something. A drop of sweat was there, beginning to go down. Her cleavage was shining because of the heat, and the drop was sliding down the space between her breasts, which I had never noticed before, but had a perfectly round shape: not too big, and not too small. I stood still, following the drop throughout the little hairs in her skin. It’s amazing how some simple things have such poetry on their own.

The drop kept moving and got lost inside her breasts. “It must be a beautiful journey down there”, I thought. “How does she taste like? Salty? Sweet because of some perfume?”, my head kept spinning. I glanced back up and found Pamela staring at me. With a subtle movement, she rearranged her blouse and took the folder I had in my hands.

Continues here:
https://someoldstories.wordpress.com/2020/04/30/power-cuts/