Foolish April

This short story is an entry for the 2015 Literotica April Fools' Day story contest.

All characters involved in sexual situations in this story are eighteen years of age or older.

* * * *

She took one last sip of coffee, grabbed her lunch bag and picked up the thick stack of papers she'd worked all night on. But as she hurried to leave, she noticed the calendar on the kitchen wall still said March. She shifted her lunch to her other hand, the same one securing the papers under her arm, and took a deep breath as she changed the month to April.

As if on cue, raindrops started to patter against the window. She stared in disbelief at the shower that had appeared out of nowhere, and then felt the stack squeezed against her side start to slip. She frantically tried to stop it but was too late and seconds later all of her work and the contents of her broken lunch bag, which had also fallen, were scattered across the kitchen floor.

And as April stared at the gray day awaiting her, she caught her reflection in the window. "Happy birthday," she said, to the small sad face staring back at her. "Happy fucking birthday."

She swore again as she knelt and picked up the papers as fast as she could. She ignored the broken remains of her lunch; there was no time to try to save it or make another. She couldn't be late today.

Carrying the papers in a haphazard heap, she hurried to the front door. And when she opened it she saw the shower had turned into an outright downpour. April wasn't surprised. Birthdays had never been nice to her.

She always heard people complain about having their birthday on Christmas or Halloween -- try being born on April Fools' Day. Her parents were the first to get in on the fun, naming her April. She hated the name, a constant reminder of the month and day she'd been unfortunate enough to have been born on.

And then there were the birthday parties. When you're born on the first of April, kids feel almost obligated to play a prank with your present. She still had nightmares of unwrapping them, wondering what kind of cruel gift was hidden inside.

But as she hurried toward her car, the papers hidden under her coat as she desperately tried to keep them dry, she knew nature had given her the cruelest birthday present of all.

She opened the door, placed the papers on the passenger seat, climbed onto her custom cushion, pulled her seatbelt across and put the key in the ignition. And as she turned it and heard the engine catch she reached her tiny feet down toward the metal extenders that allowed her to reach the pedals on the floor.

April was a midget. At least, that's what the kids at school had called her. The teachers had told them they weren't allowed to use that word and said the proper term for people like her was little person, but that just made the M word stick that much harder.

She honestly didn't care what they called her; she hated both terms equally. Sure, she was the shortest person in her class, if not the entire school, but she never understood why they had to come up with a special name for her. Why couldn't she just be a girl?

By the time she pulled into the office parking lot, the rain had mercifully stopped. April mumbled a thank you for small miracles, and then swore when she checked her hair in the mirror. The rain had ruined a morning's worth of work.

Dark clouds still filled the sky far above her, menacingly rolling back and forth as if waiting for her to step outside so they could soak her again. She cursed at them as she hurriedly tried to straighten out the tangled mess, but it was no use. She growled in frustration as she shook her head, whipping her wet brown hair back and forth until her small shoulders slumped in resignation.

"Why worry about it?" she thought. "When you're not even four feet tall the last thing people are going to be looking at is your hair."

April grabbed the papers, climbed down from the custom cushion that allowed her to see over the steering wheel and closed the car door. And as she hurried toward the entrance of the graphic design firm she worked for, dodging every puddle that appeared in her path, she threw one last glare at the clouds as if daring them to try to soak her again.

She looked up as she neared the front door and winced when she saw tall, blonde Rebecca waiting for her on the other side. She pulled the door open and as April hurried through, finally safe from the raindrops that had started to fall again, she prayed no one knew it was her birthday.

"Hey, there's my little princess," Rebecca said. "I was starting to get worried. You're late."

April glanced at her watch: two minutes to eight. She didn't say anything. She knew better than to argue with Rebecca.

"Oh, look at your hair," she said. "It's a mess. Here, let me fix it."

April flinched as Rebecca towered over her, tugging and fussing at her hair like she was a toy doll. When she was done she smoothed her hands across April's head and smiled.

"There you go, much better. We need to make sure everything's perfect for your big day."

April stiffened, suddenly worried that she'd somehow discovered it was her birthday. "What do you mean? What's so big about today?"

Rebecca arched an eyebrow. "You didn't forget that I'm taking you in the meeting with me today, did you?"

April exhaled, sighing in relief. Her secret was safe. "No, I didn't forget, and I made sure to get everything you need for the meeting finished. I was up working on them until two in the morning."

"Good," Rebecca said, without bothering to take or even look at the stack of papers April was holding out toward her. "I can always count on you, my favorite little girl. And that's why I want you with me in the meeting today when they make me the lead artist on this project. I want you to be my letterer."

April blinked in surprise. "Me? I'm just a proofreader. I'm not an artist."

Rebecca smiled as she smoothed a loose lock of April's hair back into place. "Don't worry about that, lettering doesn't take any talent."

"Umm...I'm not sure that's true."

"Of course it is, and that's why I know you'll be perfect for it."

Before April could respond, Rebecca continued: "We all know how important it is that this firm wins the bid to illustrate this project; this could be one of the biggest children's books of the year. And when we make our proposal and the client sees we're letting someone like you work on it, we're sure to be a shoo-in. Maybe they'll even want to use you in the marketing campaign. I bet the kids would love you."

April stared up at her, speechless. Then Rebecca patted her on the head, and said, "The meeting is in half an hour, try not to be late again." She turned, strutting away with a self-satisfied smile on her face as her high heels clicked against the tiled floor, echoing down the hallway as she disappeared through a door.

* * *

A half hour later April was behind Rebecca as they headed toward the conference room. Every one of her steps was twice the size of April's, who felt a twinge of envy as she hurried to keep up.

Rebecca's flawless, impossibly long legs seemed to be the same height as April at times, and the high heels and dangerously short skirts she always wore only added to the illusion. April grimaced as an image of herself in the same attire crossed her thoughts.

Rebecca strutted into the conference room and smiled as she sat in the seat that Ryan, the new assistant art director, pulled out for her. April headed to the far side of the table where there was only one seat left right beside Zander, the creative director and president of the firm.

"April," he said, watching as she seated herself, "I'm so glad you're joining us today. We can always use a fresh pair of eyes."

April smiled weakly. She'd never been in one of these meetings before, never realized how cavernous the conference room seemed compared to her own cramped cubicle. Seated opposite her on either side of Rebecca were Susan, another of the firm's graphic artists, and Ryan.

He'd only been at the firm a few weeks, replacing the last assistant art director who had suddenly and unexpectedly quit. April wasn't sure if Ryan had noticed her since he'd started -- she normally did everything she could to keep people from noticing her -- but she'd sure noticed him.

He was young, tall and so good looking. April couldn't help noticing his flawless smile, his short, styled dirty-blonde hair or the way his tailored button-down shirt fit his lean frame perfectly. She also couldn't help noticing Rebecca's arm beneath the table, her hand caressing the inside of his thigh as she leaned close and whispered in his ear.

His lips curved into a smile as he listened, and when his eyes flicked toward April she knew they were talking about her. She looked away, twisting the cap of her pen back and forth and wishing she could just sink beneath the table and disappear, anything to stop him from staring at her. She'd spent her whole life trying not to be noticed, and now was no exception.

But no one needed to worry about being noticed as long as Rebecca was in the room. Without even waiting for Zander to start the meeting she stood up, launching into her vision of their proposal as she proudly spread her preliminary artwork and layouts across the table for everyone to admire.

She was already starting on her plans for the marketing campaign when Zander held up his hand to stop her. "Hold on a second, Rebecca. I think you're getting ahead of yourself. We haven't even finalized the proposal we want to take to our client, let alone the artwork we'll be using."

She stared at him, taken aback. "What the hell are you talking about? This is the artwork we're using."

Zander rolled his eyes. "Rebecca, I've already told you -- "

"No," she said, her voice rising as she cut him off, "this is bullshit! I've worked my ass off on these, and there's no one else in this firm with a tenth of the talent that I have. So if you think I'm going to let anyone else -- "

"Rebecca, please," he said, holding his hand up to try to shut her up. "No one said we won't be using your art for the proposal, but the whole point of having this meeting is to make sure we're all in agreement before we do. You've done your job now, please, let me do mine."

She fell back into her seat and crossed her arms, glaring at him as he tilted his glasses lower and studied the preliminary artwork spread across the table. Susan was the next to look at it and April shrunk deeper into her chair when she noticed the glower on Rebecca's face, her eyes like smoldering coals as they scorched the table, daring every person who checked her work to say even one word of criticism. Ryan was the last to look at it, and he gave it only a brief glance before passing it back.

"It looks good," he said, with Susan nodding in agreement. "It looks really good."

"Well, now that we're all in agreement," Rebecca said with a smug grin as she went to gather up her artwork, "I'd like to -- "

"Hold on," Zander said, interrupting her again. "We haven't heard from April yet."

"April?" Rebecca said with a barely disguised laugh. "She's only a proofreader."

"She's also part of this meeting and, like I said, we can always use a fresh pair of eyes."

April had tried to slide even lower into her seat as soon as her name had been mentioned but now, with Zander pushing the preliminary artwork in front of her, she was forced to sit up. She tried to ignore Rebecca, knowing her eyes were burning into her as she stared at each piece. She spread them across the table in front of her, looking at them as a series. She knew what she should have said. She should have said it looks good, it looks really good.

But the words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. "I think the color scheme's wrong."

"Thank you," Rebecca said icily, and April flinched as she jerked the pages away from in front of her. "We all appreciate your honest, even if completely ignorant, opinion."

"One second," Zander said, stopping Rebecca as she tried to put her artwork away. "I think April's right. I didn't even see it at first, but there is something wrong with the color scheme."

Rebecca laughed. "Are you fucking kidding me? There are four people in this room with art degrees and we're supposed to listen to the only person who doesn't have one?!"

"It was you who insisted she be included in this meeting," Zander said. "Why even invite her if you don't want her opinion?"

"Because I need a letterer that knows how to fucking spell! I'm sure no one has forgotten how well our proposal for our client's last book about the shy spoon and his best friend the happy little bowel was received?"

Susan crossed her arms and grumbled, "How many times do you have to keep bringing that up? How was I supposed to know that bowl isn't spelled with an e?"

"You see?" Rebecca said, throwing her hands up in frustration. "That's why I need April. And I hope the firm appreciates the sacrifice I'm making, working with someone like her just to make sure we land this project."

On the other side of the table April had shrunk down in her seat again, nearly disappearing underneath the table in an attempt to avoid Rebecca's glare as Zander tried to calm her down.

He said, "Rebecca, just listen to me for -- "

"No," she shouted, "you listen to me. I busted my ass to get this done and everyone in this meeting agrees that it's some of the best work they've ever seen. I'm an award-winning artist, and I refuse to sit here and have my work criticized by you and this little -- "

"Rebecca!" he shouted, slamming his palm against the table to shut her up. "I'm the creative director and the owner of this firm, and I'm telling you the color scheme's wrong. And I'm not even sure that's the only thing. I want new artwork by Friday. And if you don't want to do it I'll find an artist who does. Understood?"

She hesitated a moment, her eyes seething with anger, and then gave him the briefest nod before snatching her artwork off the table and storming out of the room.

April, who had sunk so low in her chair she may as well have been underneath it, was also about to leave when she heard her name.

"April," Zander said, "I wanted to apologize for Rebecca's theatrics. I know she gets carried away at times. And I also wanted to let you know I appreciate your offer to try your hand at lettering, but are you sure you're up to it?

"I mean, it isn't that I doubt your ability. I know you're one of the people here I can always count on. It's just that I don't want to see you getting overworked. Someone said you've been taking work home with you?"

April nodded. "I have been, but it's okay. I don't mind. I like the extra work and, if you'll let me try lettering, it would be nice to have something to do other than proofreading all day."

"Of course," Zander said, "and your comment on Rebecca's color scheme was spot on. Frankly, I'm impressed."

She couldn't help smiling, feeling like she was floating a foot off the floor as she left the room and went back to her desk. She was halfway there when a hand snatched her arm and pulled her back down to earth.

"We need to talk," Rebecca said, as she dragged her into an unoccupied office and closed the door.

April went to fumble an apology but Rebecca stopped her.

"No, cupcake," she said, as she ran her fingers through April's hair. "I'm the one who needs to apologize, not you. I should have never brought you into that meeting, should have never forced you to have to watch that idiot attack my work."

Rebecca shook her head. "I don't know what's gotten into Zander, but he's had it out for me ever since Mark left, like he blames me for the fact that his assistant art director decided to quit. He's jealous of my work, and I think we both know who he wants to take over this project."

April hesitated, not sure if she was supposed to answer.

"That's right," Rebecca said, "Janelle -- that little slut Janelle. Do you even know how many promotions she's had in the last year? And I bet there's a bump on the back of her head for every single one."

April blinked in confusion. "Bumps?"

"Yeah, bumps, from spending all day beneath Zander's desk with his tiny dick in her mouth, trying to steal all of my projects away from me."

She took April's hands and squeezed them hard. "You saw how good my art was, right?"

April knew better than to do anything but nod.

Rebecca continued: "And don't worry, I'm not mad at you. I know you don't know anything about art or color schemes. You were just trying to say something so you wouldn't look stupid after he put you on the spot. I just wish you could have been smarter and kept your mouth shut. Can't you see how he's going to use that against me now so he can take this project away from me and give it to Janelle?"

April smiled weakly and pulled her hands away. "I'm sorry, but I should really get back to work. I've got a lot of pages to proofread."

As she opened the door, Rebecca strode past her and glanced down the hallway toward the lunch room. "That can wait, let's get a coffee first."

"But I don't drink -- "

"Come on," Rebecca said, nearly pulling her off her feet as she grabbed her sleeve and dragged her down the hallway. And as they walked through the door the shout from inside the lunch room made April jump nearly three feet off the floor.

"Surprise!" the room full of people screamed.

April stiffened, watching in stunned silence as her co-workers gathered around the candle-covered cake on the table and sang Happy Birthday to her. When they were done, and after everyone had taken the opportunity to congratulate her, Rebecca brought her a piece of cake.

April stared at it in dismay. Of course it was chocolate; she hated chocolate. "How did they know it was my birthday?"

"I told them," Rebecca said, as she picked a piece of lint from April's sweater. "I was looking through some of the personnel folders a few weeks ago and noticed today was your birthday."

"Umm...aren't those supposed to be confidential?"

Rebecca rolled her eyes. "Please, you sound just like Denise. You should have seen what a bitch she was when she found me in her office, acting like all of her files were top secret. But come on, who wouldn't want everyone to know it was their birthday?"

April forced a smile as she put down the uneaten cake. "I really better get back to work. I do have a lot to get done."

She turned to leave but Rebecca grabbed her arm and pulled her back. Leaning down, she whispered, "By the way, cupcake, don't think I've forgotten."

April flinched. "Pardon me?"

And then Rebecca smiled like a cat with a mouse under its claw. "Don't think I've forgotten your present. You won't get it until later, but I've got a big surprise planned for you."

April winced. She hated surprises. "I don't need a present. The cake was more than enough."

"Nonsense, I've got something special picked out for you. And when you see it," she said, as her lips curved into a cruel smile, "you're never going to forget it."

* * *

The rest of the day passed by uneventfully and as the clock neared four April hoped that Rebecca had forgotten about her present. But when she heard the tell-tale click of those high heels coming toward her cubicle she also heard her hopes come crashing down.

Rebecca looked around, making sure she couldn't be overheard. "It's time for your big surprise, shortstuff. Let's go."

"I -- I really shouldn't," April said. "I've got to finish this work and then I -- "

"Nonsense," Rebecca said, as she lifted her off her chair like she was a child. "Our little birthday girl is going to get just what she deserves."

She strode down the hall and kept a tight grip on April's hand, pulling her after her as she struggled to keep up. Soon, they were at the door to the art storage room.