22. Accidental Dick Pic on Purpose
Accidental Dick Pic on Purpose
Who does he think he is?
I study the grainy photo of Sam’s dick with a snicker of disapproval.
At least I think the disembodied penis belongs to Sam.
Not that I would know. In fact, I could’ve gone my entire working career without knowing or seeing that.
Alas, Sam seems hellbent on jump-scaring and sexually harassing me.
And Rhys says I have too much time on my hands.
I copy his dick pic and paste it to my conversation with Angie. Privacy be damned. I didn’t ask for the photo and have no reservations about sharing it far and wide.
Seconds later, I get a ping.
Angie
Um... I assume the date’s going well?
Her response draws out a hysterical bark of laughter from me. For a split second, she made me forget about the pressure cooker I’m in. This is why I love Angie. Even if I were married, I need to buy a house with a spare room specifically to house Angie; I don’t think I can live without her.
It’s not Rhys’ dick!
I frown as her implication sinks in.
What kind of date do you think this is?
Angie
You tell me. One moment you’re complaining about Rhys fumbling the date and trying to convince him to keep his mind open to the possibility of a threesome…
The next moment you send a picture of a dick.
I don’t know what to think other than you’re doing a very good job chaperoning.
Maybe you’ve chaperoned yourself into a threesome.
I don’t even know how to respond to that.
Checking over my shoulder, I note the socially inept couple. Rhys is trying to get my attention by serving up impatient ‘you’re failing at your wingman duties’ looks. No doubt, from his perspective, I’ve been glued to my phone the entire time I’m supposed to be assisting him.
It belongs to CEO Grab Ass. He sent it out of the blue. ‘This is for you’
Angie
The entitlement!
Seriously! Whatever happened to first dates? Maybe buy me a drink first?
Angie
He wants to make it abundantly clear that he wants to fuck you. The dick is to entice you. Are you enticed?
Quite the opposite. I’m repulsed.
Angie
What can you expect from CEO Grab Ass? How are you going to respond?
Good question...
I chew on my next move. After waking up to the truth about my nefarious company, I was willing to stay and make it work.
I don’t know how I’m going to redeem Rylan’s core values exactly, but I had just enough stupid optimism to try.
Sam’s dick is like the cherry on top of my shit sundae.
Did he have to kick me while I was already down?
Obviously, Sam’s left me no choice but to quit. I can’t work under these conditions.
As I mentally compose my resignation letter, I’m consumed by a flash of white-hot rage.
Why do I have to quit? I didn’t do anything wrong (other than lie about my ASSET capabilities, but that’s beside the point).
In the realm of proper office conduct, I’ve been nothing but professional with my coworkers.
Heck, I’m even afraid to wear any item of clothing that can be construed as revealing ever since I caught Sam checking me out during my first presentation.
I hate my itchy, overpriced work trousers and the sensible heels that are not even that comfortable despite the extra orthopedic padding...
I’ve followed all the rules, fitting myself into the image of a corporate professional with the sex appeal of an office Puritan.
And despite my best efforts, I still get sexually harassed.
What year is this? 1960? Am I nothing more than a secretary in a pencil skirt who gets her ass slapped by her boss and has to keep her mouth shut or risk losing her job?
No.
I’m not going to stay quiet. Sam is getting a piece of my mind.
In a fit of barely suppressed rage, I tap out a reply to Sam’s proposition. It’s a long one, filled with unhinged ALL CAPS and sets the record for the most F-bombs in a resignation letter. I doubt anyone in the history of corporate quitting has ever called their CEO a ‘horny FUCK face.’
Having said my piece, I read over my essay, my red face cooling as it occurs to me that I sound just like an unhinged Facebook rant.
You think you’re HOT SHIT sending me this DISGUSTING photo of your CROOKED little DICK? It’s the most PATHETIC thing I’ve ever seen…
See what I mean about unhinged ALL CAPS?
All it takes is a little indignation to turn us all into someone’s crazy Facebook aunt.
After reading over my response, I decide against sending it, deleting the three-paragraph text message in favor of a more diplomatic response.
Pardon?
CEO Grab Ass is typing…
Of course he is. He’s probably sitting in his mansion with his dick out, waiting to get a rise out of me (pun intended).
CEO Grab Ass is typing…
For the sake of the company, I hope this penis isn’t for me... Thanks, but no thanks.
Sam stops typing. There’s a weird pause; I see he’s typing again.
As I wait to see what Sam has to say for himself, Rhys bombards me with what seems like his 100th text in an hour. Honestly, we all need to put our phones down and have a face-to-face conversation with each other.
Rhys
You call this being a ‘wingman’? Did you get distracted by something bright and shiny again?
The last dig. Ugh. That one got under my skin. “You little shit...”
What do you expect a ‘wingman’ to do? I can only give you pointers and emotional support. I can’t go on your fucking date for you. Just talk to her. It’s not rocket science. Tell her about your job. YOU actually have to do the work.
Rhys
‘I actually have to do the work?’ That’s rich coming from someone who hired me to do her work for her. Speaking of our deal, what are you doing? Playing games on your phone? I’m stuck out here with my dick out…
His choice of words couldn’t have been more ill-timed.
Look at these two losers. They’re supposed to be on a coffee date, and yet they’re both glued to their phones.
I can see Michelle’s screen. She’s scoping out a new pair of shoes.
It’s come to this. She’s so bored that she would rather shop than talk to Rhys.
If and when this date bombs, I hold her equally culpable.
Meanwhile, Rhys is supposed to be testing his new and improved social skills, and he’s demanding an unreasonable amount of handholding.
We talked about his playing the strong and silent type.
Well, he’s overdoing the silent part and saying ‘to hell’ with the strong part. What a baby.
What does he expect me to do? Date Michelle for him? I can only direct him to the right runway. Getting the plane to take off is in his hands.
My thumbs fly. I can’t take out my anger on the culprit, so Rhys becomes my punching bag.
You think you’re the only one stuck here with their dicks out?! Do you have any idea what I’m dealing with right now?
Rhys
What you’re having for dinner?
I suck in my breath, white-knuckling my phone. Okay. He asked for this.
Get a load of this.
I copy Sam’s picture, send it to Rhys in a grand gesture of fury, peering over my shoulder for his reaction. Rhys was in the middle of sipping his Americano when the text landed. He chokes down his drink and begins hacking.
“Oh my god!” Michelle sets down her phone and scrambles out of her chair to swat Rhys on the back. “Are you okay?”
“Yup,” Rhys gulps, quickly slipping his phone into his back pocket for obvious reasons.
Michelle tilts her head sympathetically. “Coffee too hot?”
“Just a little,” he squeaks out. Casting a bewildered glance in my direction, he passes his hand over a spill on his sweater. “Listen, I’ve got to use the bathroom,” he says, gesturing down a narrow corridor. “I’ll be right back.”
“Yeah,” Michelle nods, eyeing the coffee stain. “No worries.”
That’s my cue. I slip off my stool and edge past Michelle. “I have a Tide pen,” I say, feeling a need to explain why I’m rushing after Rhys.
She arches a skeptical brow at me. “He doesn’t have much to say, does he?”
“He has plenty to say.”
“Not that silence is a problem,” she amends. “So long as he’s nice to look at, which he is, I don’t need him mouthing off like he did before.”
Sometimes I can’t help patting myself on the back.
My strong and silent rebrand is working better than I could have ever imagined.
That being said, I have a hard time believing Rhys has won Michelle over yet.
They looked so bored and so over the date, at least Rhys sees it as a failure, or he wouldn’t be bothering me so much.
“So you were having a good time?” I ask with no shortage of doubt.
She lifts an apathetic shoulder. “I’m not having a bad time.”
“But you were both on your phones.”
“Texting each other funny puppy pictures.” Michelle shows me a GIF of an adorable Pomeranian dressed like a pirate. “He likes dogs. I like dogs.”
“And you two have been browsing silly puppy pictures all this time and sending them to each other?” I suck in my breath, reserving my judgement. This is good news. Not exactly the most stimulating of dates, but progress nonetheless. I must tell Rhys. “Hold that thought.”
Leaving Michelle in the lurch, I scramble to the bathroom and knock on the door. Rhys cracks it open immediately, his eyes shifting from side to side before hustling me inside.
Before I could even shut the door, he’s shoving his phone in my face. “What is this?”
I chew on my bottom lip, fighting the urge to laugh at his indignant tone. “I should think it’s obvious. It’s a dick.”
“Yes,” Rhys sniffs. “I’m aware of that. Who’s dick is it and why are you sending it to me?
” His shoulders tense as a dreadful possibility occurs to him.
“Is this Mike? A taste of things to come? I told you, I’m not getting involved with her cousin.
If you two think this will tempt me, you’ve done the complete opposite—”
“It belongs to CEO Grab Ass.”
He glares down at me, his brow puckered into a frown. “Who?”
“Oh, that’s right. Didn’t I tell you about what happened to me that night at Coyote Flame?”