Samantha
SAMANTHA
I gave up on working on the other reports after Chandler walked out the door. The only thing on my mind now is food. I take a large of gulp my water to try and combat the hunger. I need to restock on snacks. Something that would annoy him throughout the day. Chips sound good. I’d purposely chew them loudly, mouth open, completely uncaring that the sound was driving him mad. I make a mental note to pick some up on my way home after work. I hear my phone buzz in my purse, and when I dig it out amongst the receipts from Starbucks and my favorite Indian takeout place I frequent, I see there’s a text from Penny.
Pen: Hey. Drinks tonight?
Me: Sure! Where at?
Pen: Not sure yet. How’s work?
Me: Long, per usual.
Pen: How’d your meeting go?
Me: Not great, but I’ll tell you more later.
Pen: I’m sure it was fine .
Penny is the most optimistic person I’ve ever met. My phone buzzes with another message.
Pen: How’s your hot boss?
Penny stalked Chandler on social media when I told her about him and added him to Instagram. So, now she knows everything about him, which means I do too. Party on the weekends and workouts during the week after work. Penny thinks he’s ‘motivated and likes to have a good time.’ I think it shouts, ‘Hello world! I am desperately trying to feed my ego by posting shirtless pictures of myself at the gym, so you know I actually work for this body! Yes, I am aware of how hot I am! Also, look at me doing a keg stand!’ He’s a complete jackass who happens to be good at math.
Me: He’s not my boss
Pen: Yes, he is.
I decide not to respond and set my phone on my desk. Penny knows it gets on my nerves when she calls Chandler, my boss. He’s not very professional, and the way he rolled over to me in his swivel chair suggests that his maturity level was stunted at 16. He is hot; that part is true, but he knows he’s hot. I thought maybe he used to be a model before becoming an accountant. He even smells like what I’d imagine a male model would smell, like cedar and spice and sandalwood. Part of me wonders if he's a dirty talker in bed. Probably, I can’t imagine him keeping quiet, even for that. I take a breath, trying to calm myself. I shouldn’t be getting this flustered over him. I need to clear my thoughts about him. It doesn’t help that I haven’t had sex in almost 7 months. When I’d first started this job, I had a boyfriend I’d been seeing for a few months, but when that fizzled out, I found no time to meet someone new, let alone get into a relationship. My fling with Jasper didn't last long. He was a great guy, but I felt like the sex could have been better. He was strictly missionary, and it got boring quickly. I needed variety, and Jasper avoided anything new like the plague. My phone buzzes again with another message from
Penny: I sent you something, check your email.
I log into my personal email on my work computer and open her email. There’s a link, and when I click it, a new window opens, and it’s a woman bent over a desk getting fucked from behind by a very well-endowed man. Penny likes to send me porn, and sometimes at the most inconvenient times of the day. She thinks it’s funny, and it usually is. But this time, I don’t know if I should laugh or scream. The porn setting features an office, and a woman is bent over a desk, her shirt ruffled and unbuttoned. Behind her, there’s a man whose slacks are only pulled down enough so I can see his thighs and the top of his shirt is unbuttoned, revealing some amazing rock-hard abs. It’s honestly pretty hot. If I wasn’t at work, I might actually enjoy watching it. No one ever interrupts me when I’m alone, and Chandler should be gone for about an hour. I turn down the speakers and study the woman’s facial expressions, the curve of her large breasts that she’s very obviously had enlarged with plastic surgery. Her expression looks like it could be interpreted as either pain or pleasure, her mouth open wide and her eyes squeezed shut while the man pounds into her from behind. It’s always fascinating to watch two people have sex, even if it is highly unrealistic. I wonder if that’s how I would look if Chandler bent me over my desk.
Whoa. Nope! No. No fucking way. Why am I even watching this at work? And fantasizing about Chandler? If I’m thinking about Chandler in that way, then I need to get laid ASAP.
I’ll have to tell Penny to cool it with these weird emails she sends. If I get caught, I’d be fired. I move my mouse to the X in the corner, but before I have time to close it, the door swings open, and I freeze up .
“Forgot my- Holy shit!”
My head snaps up from my screen and toward Chandler, who’s frozen in place next to my desk, his eyes bulging, and his jaw has dropped so far I’m sure it’s going to fall off. His eyes dart back and forth from the extremely hardcore image on my computer screen and me with wide eyes. I’m dying. I am literally dying from embarrassment.
I can’t move. It’s as if my synapses have momentarily turned off. My hands are frozen, one gripping my office chair and the other on the mouse, still hovering over the close button. Chandler licks his lips, and his breathing becomes labored. I stay still, frozen in fear, and absolutely fucking mortified.
We’re staring at each other for what seems like forever, and when my brain comes back on, recovering from the shock, I turn back to my computer and close the website. I don’t say anything and avoid eye contact with him. Now, there’s nothing but complete silence without the background noise, but what Chandler just witnessed is still echoing in the room. My face burns red with embarrassment, and I can hear the blood rush to my ears. My heart is pounding so hard that it fills my ears with its loud and steady thumping. This is it. I’m toast. Chandler is going to get me fired, and then I’ll have to explain why I was let go to my next job. This is an absolute disaster. I don’t say anything. What can I say? ‘Sorry. My friend has this weird obsession with sending me porn because she thinks it’s the only time I’ll get to see a man naked anymore’?
Instead, I wait for him to say something, anything at all, but I also hope he doesn’t. I can’t make eye contact with him, but I can still feel his eyes on me. I don’t know if I can ever show my face here again. I see him walk behind me to his desk from the corner of my eye, where he grabs his water bottle before heading out again, not making eye contact with me or saying a single word. When he’s gone, I take a deep breath of air and release it slowly. I do it again and count as I let it out. 1, 2, 3. I do this again and again, but I can’t force myself to calm down. He’s probably going to tell everyone, get me fired. Then, everyone will know what a pervert I am. I put my head in my hands and try not to cry, my heart still pounding in my chest, the breathing exercise failing to slow my heart rate. What the fuck did I just do?