Thanks for Donating, Part One

I’m usually not so competitive in office politics.  My cube is by no means the biggest, I never get wrapped up in power games, and even when there are contests (like the annual contests we have at our holiday parties), I’m not one to try to win.  I would rather get my work done, and make sure everyone gets paid at my company, or everyone have a good time at the Christmas party, than be wrapped up in who wins and loses.

Maybe it was the recent failures I’d had in getting the raise, or the fact that I had been single for longer than I like, but when the office started a donation fundraising drive for the local food bank, and publicly posted everyone’s stats on the bulletin board, a fire in my heart ignited.  I wanted to be named the best at that more than anything, and each day I would carefully monitor my numbers, and the numbers of my closest adversaries, to see who was nipping at my heels.

Sushi Plate

There are few pieces of advice that can actually stand the test of time.  Advice concerning the benefits of sunscreen may be the best one, but my advice about fine dining and sushi restaurants has to come in a close second: Bring a calculator, and use it before you order.

Normal

I arrived at Demona’s house a bit nervous.  We had only briefly spoken on the phone, and shared countless messages online, and she had always been a kind ear to lay my guts out to.  Although I’m a proud atheist, and she’s a self-proclaimed psychic, we became fast friends, and filled the hole that Kate had left in my life.  Kate had been perfect for me and now she was gone from my life, and I just didn’t know what was left.

Over the Fence

I think every woman engaged in an extra-marital relationship says it started out innocent enough.  A random wink here, a flirtatious glance there, and before they knew it, they were in a hotel room at two in the morning three freeway exits away, thinking how they were going to get home in time for breakfast.  My own started a little less dignified, and did not afford me such claims of innocence corrupted.  I made several mistakes, pursued it, and landed right where I was supposed to be.

I had been chatting online for about a month, just browsing some recipe forum.  She first complimented me on my crème brûlée recipe, and thing escalated a bit from there.  She was the first to ask my age, if I was married, and for a picture, which I gave readily.  The shower of compliments flowed from there, she said she absolutely adored by brown curls, cutie pie face, and girl next-door charm, and soon our conversations were steered towards our mutual favorite topic--sex.  Before I knew it, I was giving her very explicit details about what went on in the bedroom with my husband of four years, even more details than probably he knows.  

The Last Straw

When I arrived at the bar that Saturday night, I was feeling pretty good.  I just had a good day date with Brian, and I was on my way home, when I got a text message from Samantha, telling me to meet her.  I was expecting to go straight home and relax in the tub for the evening, but I shrugged off those plans and walked into the bar at about seven.

I was wearing a cute white skirt and a Yankees t-shirt that I had borrowed from Samantha’s closet.  I usually only buy feminine clothes, like skirts, cute tops, and things that are pink or frilly, so mixing in Samantha’s clothes make for some very cute outfits that are only slightly tomboyish.  She’s an out lesbian, and makes no efforts to look feminine, but we still share a body type, so I can easily slip into anything she wears.