Chapter 9 Dildon’t You Want Me, Baby?
Dildon’t You Want Me, Baby?
Hudson was really nice about the vomit thing.
Did he turn a little green? Yes. Did he politely excuse himself to (I assume) clean himself up and do the Men in Black memory wipe thing on himself so as to forget my existence and the unfortunate relaxation of my pyloric sphincter and subsequent emesis? Also yes.
But he did it all without ever once making me feel bad about the incident or his likely now ruined shoes.
After a thorough shower and a Coca-Cola mixed with two salt tablets (the most scientifically sound hangover pre-cure), I tucked myself into bed and tried to sleep, but my mind kept circling around the conversations I’d had in the last thirty-six-odd hours.
Mr. Ose had basically called me weird and unsocialized.
Addie said I needed to get some girls and go on some dates.
And Hudson said I was holding myself back.
Two data points were interesting but not significant. Three data points were the beginning of a trend. Four or more data points were irrefutable.
If I was going to take Mr. Ose, Addie, and Hudson seriously, then I needed more data.
“I was wondering when you’d phone me,” Clara said, answering my call on the second ring.
A hum of activity crackled behind her, and I pictured her in all her Goop-elegant glory, still slurping back jalapeno margs at Josie’s.
“Sorry. Am I interrupting?”
“Not at all. We’re just wrapping up here. I’m walking to my car.” The sound dulled as she did just that. Then, easy as breathing, she informed me, “You’ll be happy to know that Jared has quit.”
“He what?”
“No one else thought his little spectacle with you was funny. He kept trying to get everyone in on the joke, to back him up as it were, but when no one would take the bait—in fact, Addie and Terrence gave him a pretty firm talking-to—he said that this was the last straw and he could no longer tolerate being saddled with such humorless, cancel-culture woke-ists.”
Guilt and shameful relief mixed inside me like noxious chemicals in a test tube.
“I didn’t mean for him to quit” was all I could manage.
“I’m sure you didn’t, though I can’t say I’m sad to see him go.
He was my one true hiring mistake. I thought he might bring some balance to the team.
It appears I was wrong. He caused discord wherever he went.
I should have fired him ages ago, but I wanted to give him a chance.
Ah, well. I suppose you can’t win them all. ”
When she sighed, I was reminded of Hudson’s sweet parting words. I think we’re a win so far.
Thank God Clara got it right way more than she got it wrong. If there were more Hudsons out there to be found, and she hired them instead of Jareds, we’d be in good shape as a company.
“Anyway, what can I do for you at this late hour, Scout?”
“I wanted to pick your brain.”
“By all means, I love to be kept from the warm embrace of slumber to have my cerebrum probed.”
If she hadn’t been teasing me, I might have pointed out that telencephalon would be more precise. But considering it was late and I was asking her for a favor, I bit my tongue on that particular point.
“It’s come to my attention that some people are under the impression that I don’t get out enough,” I said, summarizing the opinions of Mr. Ose, Addie, and Hudson. “That I’m too closed off and should try to, you know, connect or whatever. Is that true? Do you see me that way?”
“Of course.”
“Of course?” I screeched.
“I told you as much this morning. Remember? When I said you should have sex with Hudson.”
She hadn’t exactly told me to have sex with him, just that it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I did. I brushed away the thought—I couldn’t get distracted with my God, I want to fuck Hudson Bailey fixation right now.
“But…you don’t think…I mean, The Fantasy is the most important thing we’ve ever done. If I take my eye off the ball, if I waste my time with people, then I might lead us into another GalacticSolutions situation—”
“That’s why you haven’t had sex yet? Because of what happened with Lloyd?”
“I wouldn’t say that, exactly.”
Mostly because I didn’t want to admit it.
“Scout, you can’t punish yourself forever.”
“I’m not punishing myself—”
“You’re afraid to fight, Scout. Afraid to get what you want. Afraid that maybe you don’t deserve it. But you do. You should. And, as your friend and not your boss, I’d like to see you try. All this stuff about being distracted from work? That’s just a rubbish excuse.”
“On the other hand, if word gets out that your lead engineer is a virgin, it could be a total disaster, Clara. You should have seen Mr. Ose’s face when Hudson told him he was new to the industry. We’ll be a laughingstock. I can’t handle it if I bring down the company.”
My own labored breathing echoed back to me through my cell’s receiver.
“Listen, as the woman who will likely lose everything if The Fantasy fails, I want you to know that you have my full and unconditional support. Have sex, don’t have sex.
It doesn’t matter. I don’t care what anyone else thinks about you.
Your work speaks for itself, and you’re an invaluable member of this team.
You’ve never let me down before. I don’t anticipate you starting now. ”
That night, I slept fitfully. I’d never conceived of my inability to make friends or date as fear. I’d always seen it as quite practical. A symptom of my dedication to my career.
But Clara’s diagnosis about me running away from intimacy made sense. And I couldn’t help but wonder…
What would my existence be like if I wasn’t afraid all the time?
—
The BuzzCorp office was a friendlier place without Jared.
I didn’t have to worry about fending off sexist jokes or having anyone pry into my personal affairs, and while no one went out of their way to talk to me about the night before or its revelations, I felt their support.
There were more waves, more “good mornings,” more sympathetic glances that seemed to say Don’t worry about it; it’s not a big deal.
But it was a big deal. Last night changed everything. At least for me.
In my office, I chomped on salt-and-vinegar chips, ostensibly trying to brainstorm new pistoning techniques for The Fantasy but distracted by yesterday’s revelations. I had permission now to start over again. To exist outside of work. But how? Where to start?
Well…
A salt-and-vinegar chip froze halfway to my mouth, coating my keyboard in crumbs.
I could lose my virginity. That was a place to start.
I wasn’t going to let Lloyd Exeter control me anymore. He might have destroyed my life once, but I wasn’t going to let him keep doing it. I wasn’t going to keep sabotaging my own happiness because of him.
That little bit of determination turned my whole day around. As I fiddled with my tools, adjusting pieces on the first-gen prototype we’d been building for months now, my mind raced.
First thought? Ask Hudson. Just walk up and say Hey, I’d like to fuck, would you also be interested in that? Best-case scenario: hot losing-my-virginity-in-my-office story. Worst case: sexual harassment lawsuit.
Yeah, that was out. It was too Fluorine Scout. Too messy. Every time my mind drifted to him as a potential partner, I immediately came up with dozens of reasons why I absolutely should not.
So I holed away until everyone left the office that night. When I was sure I was alone, I fired up my laptop and did a quick google.
How to find a one-night stand
That was cleaner than fucking my office crush, anyway. Simple. Easy to walk away from. A one-night stand to remove my cloak of virginhood, then back to normal life.
However, the results that popped up required way more effort than I cared to give. I mean, really. Go to a bar? Hook up with some rando at a club? Nope. I amended my search.
Non-creepy hookup apps
No, that wasn’t any good. I deleted and tried again.
How to find a non-creepy, handsome, funny, gentle, caring guy to lose your virginity to in a no-strings, safe, pleasurable, exciting, satisfying one-night stand
Color me shocked. That extremely specific search didn’t generate a single useful answer.
I scrolled anyway. Someone had to have some idea of how I could rid myself of this meddlesome virginity.
Wasn’t there anyone in the entire world who would just dick me down?
“Hey, boss.”
Shit!
I jumped out of my chair, scrambling. As if conjured by my earlier, horny thoughts about him taking my V-card right here, Hudson stood in the doorway, looking every bit as sexy as he did in my completely impossible fantasies.
“Hudson! What are you—what are you still doing here?”
Everyone else had gone home ages ago, content to leave me with the late-night toil. It was unfair how good he looked after fourteen hours in the office—and how a little uncertain furrow in his brow only accentuated his natural appeal. “Is now not a good time? I’m sorry, I can come back…”
He trailed off as his eyes drifted over my shoulder. To my computer screen. Which displayed a hot-nude-male-torso-laden landing page for a discreet hookup website.
My stomach dropped.
“It’s not what it looks like.”
“And what it looks like is none of my business,” Hudson said with a reassuring and knowing expression that instantly set me at ease.
“Right,” I said quickly. But then a weird pang struck me. Yeah, my sex life wasn’t Hudson’s business. Another tally in the never gonna happen column. Bummer. “Right. How are your shoes after last night? I’m sorry about that, really.”
“They’re washable. Gotta love these innovations in sneaker technology, huh?”
I breathed a laugh, but I’m sure it wasn’t convincing.
To have Hudson barge in on my digital sex safari—especially when he was the one I really wanted—was too much.
It reminded me of that night in Cleveland, when I fantasized to the thought of him well into the early hours of the morning, only to have him come to my dildo rescue the next day.
“I can go, if you want,” he offered. “I was just getting ready to head out, but I saw your light on, and I just thought—I wanted to check on you. See if you’re all right after last night.”
“Yeah. I’m all right,” I lied, lying like a lying liar would. Just act natural. “Why d’you ask?”
“Because last night was a lot. And it’s slightly concerning that after all that, you’re looking at an anonymous hookup site while your 3-D printer crafts a new dildo.”