IaW Ch. 05: A Hard Day at the Office

Every now and then, some Production Manager would come stumbling in shit-faced, with a powdered nose and an empty bottle of Jack and I'd have to clean up the mess. Did I partake? No. Not coke, at least. I had my vices, but I was scientific about them. And that... is a different story.

I was out of the office about 7:30 - and this time, I made everybody else, leave, too.

Home by 8 and Gin's Miata wasn't even warm anymore. Damn. Means I missed the Yoga.

I walked in, scratched the cat, and found Ginny scrolling through pics on her phone.

She planted a kiss on me without saying a word and slid her phone across the breakfast nook.

"The foyer at the office. That's my desk. Well, my kiosk technically."

I looked at the pic and all I saw was a jungle of red roses. "There a desk there? Looks like you work at a florist."

"Yeah, that was kinda weird."

"Let me guess: secret admirer?"

"Stranger things have happened, but not this time. This was not secret."

"The bosses?"

"The wives."

"No shit?"

Gin held up the rosy office picture. "Yesterday, when they invaded? They kind of adopted me."

"I dig it! Gutsy."

"Gutsy?"

"You know, all of them probably signed pre-nups."

"I know for a fact all of them did, but all of them know so many other secrets that there will be arbitration if the D-word ever bubbles up." Gin sighed and looked around the duplex. "Would you want to do a pre-nup? I mean, honestly, against my last three years, it's nice to be with a guy who makes more than a starving artist and-"

"No."

She looked up at me with those big green eyes. "Why?"

"Because that would assume our communication failed. We might die of some horrible disease. We might die in a fiery car crash and they find our naked bodies in the wreckage. I'm hoping we die... of heart failure, when we're a hundred fucking years old, but we are going to die together."

Ginny grabbed my head and planted her lips on mine. It was deep, long, and soulful in ways that drive-by sex usually missed.

When we finally came up for air, she was humming to herself, doing ballet through the living room.

It was amazing to watch, to behold, and there was that inner turbulence. Part of me wanted to keep her safe in a glass case... and on the opposite end of that spectrum, wanted to watch her flaunt that sexuality to its absolute max. "The Filthy Five show any signs of reverting?"

She was doing spins of some sort, her arms outstretched in the embodiment of grace, her hands in perfect princess form. "Yah... they were peeking."

Sex, sex, sex, sex... I know, I'll ask about something other than sex. "Hey, you grew up in Cleveland. Ever visit the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame?"

"All the time," she nodded. "Went to a lotta concerts, too. I can't carry a note but I was kind of a groupie."

"Somehow, I see you finding ways to get backstage." Fuck. See that? The conversation just slides by itself.

Her smile turned devious. "You'd be shocked to hear I almost did... a lot."

That's it! I threw my hands up in revelation. "A backup dancer! You could've been a backup dancer!"

"Remember how I didn't want to give up the boyfriend who I thought could be 'the one'? Alex had proposed, the whole thing!" She held out her hands like scales, balancing between: "Touring... Alex. Touring... Alex..."

"You know, you could still be a backup dancer."

She was still balancing: "Touring... you and my job."

The job had reappeared. Thirty seconds and we'd gone full circle. "Besides Alex, you ever actually date an older guy?"

She was doing pirouettes. "Of my six casuals, two of them were older."

"How much older?"

"One guy was in his mid-50s, the latest was in his late 40s."

"No shit."

She gave a little curtsy.

"When, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Both were after my breakdown..." She glanced for my reaction. "My two ex-besties were egging me on."

"Wow. Recent." Also, I had no idea who her "ex-besties" were. This seemed like something I should know. "Did you tell your therapist?"

"That I was rebelling against his advice? Yah, actually I did. He said I make an interesting case."

"Huh. Be interesting to see where that goes."

"I'll give the doc credit: he persuaded me to avoid high-risk places like dance clubs. I kinda figured a library would be a safe, quiet place - and there YOU are! Foolish me. Passe..." She bent a leg, bringing her knee high, then pointed it upward, sideways, toward the ceiling. She held the pose as if it were nothing. "Developpe..."

"Fuckin-a. You're amazing." I took in a moment of this private recital. "Tell me about these 'ex-besties'."

"Xanax and Valium? The Valium ditched me and Xanax only calls when the fear of losing you creeps around. I'll introduce you if you want me to. They're pretty hot."

"I've heard they're tough to swallow."

"Oh, it gets easier with practice," she smiled, then repeated the epic stretch move with the other leg. "What else do want to know?"

"Tell me about your casuals."

Ginny glanced at me just long enough to make eye contact, then looked away, focusing back on that leg still high in the air. "...Well, going backwards, I met Number Six because he'd come through the office. He was a client who definitely failed the firm's 'Ginny' test."

"Hitting on the receptionist doesn't disqualify clients?"

She shook her head. "Nope. It sets the tone when they talk about settlement numbers. Generally, if they fail the 'me' test, it's a bigger settlement and the firm gets a bigger cut."

"Ahh... another reason they love you so much." That was a fucked-up office. "Okay, so tell me about Mister Number Six."

Ginny glanced again, a little uncertainty in her eyes. I gave her a smile and a nod. She took a deep breath and rolled with it. "Okay, I can't name names, that's part of the office NDA, but he's an on-air personality who was going through an ugly divorce. A pediatrician... also happened to be the Chief Medical Correspondent for a local news station."

"Oh, shit! The late 40s guy, right?"

Gin nodded.

"How 'bout that..." I'd actually seen a mention on some scandal rag, but now that I put it together? Six degrees of separation and all that. "I know who you're talking about."

"That kinda thing, with that kinda guy... kinda makes the news." She started doing sweeping steps around the room. No clue what the moves were called, but it looked regal. "He pried me out of the office and made sure he was seen with me on his arm. Wined me, dined me-"

"69'd you?"

"Ha, no. The possibility other humans could orgasm confused him. He did propose, though, on the first date - while I was going down on him."

"Wow. The must've been an epic beej."

She shrugged. "He wanted me as a trophy. And blow jobs. I even told him about Ed's video and he said 'all the better' - and it wasn't that he was turned on by it."

"He wanted to throw you in other people's faces?"

She nodded in exaggerated stage form. "He was kind of the opposite of Number Five, which I... also enjoyed in an unhealthy fashion."

"Number Five: late-50s guy?"

"Also a client of the firm. He slipped me his card, firmly failing the 'Ginny Test'. Normally, the partners frown on me having contact with a current client, but he's an LA County judge. He was in process of settling a harassment claim out of court so we didn't make any public appearances."

"Fuck. I've heard of that one, too."

She shrugged. "I kept him reined in for a couple weeks, until the settlement was completed. That almost makes me a whore, but nobody was trading favors. I was just keeping myself happy keeping him happy."

"Number Five would be right after Ed broke up with you, so... You were recovering." I tapped my chin as I put it together, from the nervous breakdowns to letting herself get picked up the firm's clients. There was a shit ton that wouldn't be constructive to say out loud. How do I put this...? "I'm guessing Judge Dredd was a rebound. What was your post-Ed mindset?"

"After getting hospitalized? My therapist helped me realize I oscillated between bad boys and father figures. I'd just been burned by a bad boy. Pendulum just swung hard the other direction."

"Seems like it. For the trying-to-be-good-girl looking for the storybook ending, two casuals in two months counts as a 'spike'."

"Rick, I was trying so hard to not dive into a Valium bottle... to do the right thing, but honestly...? I was looking over the ledge and it looked good."

"Gin, this lifestyle? We're looking over the edge together."

"No, we've totally jumped, but you know the difference between suicide and skydiving? It's how you land. For the first time in my life, I realize what it's like to have somebody really care if I pull the rip cord."

That brought a literal tear to my eye. For a minute, it was hard to think, much less speak. "We should go skydiving together. For real."

She snorted and shook her head. "Even the thought of it makes me pee a little... but I'd do it, with you."

"It's a date. Speaking of date, who was Number Four?"

"Technically..." She went spinning across the room, her arms out and as graceful as a swan. "Number Four was Dave."

"Ed's friend?"

"Yah. He counts as a casual because I was never in a relationship with him, but, uh... He was more of a Friend with Benefits." She held that leg up, perfectly straight and without a waver.

"Wow." I was talking about her dance move, but it worked for Dave, too. There was a lot to unpack in there but this didn't feel like the time. "You know, I'd learn to dance, just to dance with you."

She looked me dead in the eye and smiled. I had the sudden feeling she was going to hold me to that, but she didn't say anything, at least not until her leg was down, crossed, and an arm was gracefully in the air.

"Croise devant... quatrieme devant..." A little pirouette and she was looking back at me. "Numbers One, Two and Three get a little confusing and I don't want to bore-"

"Why? Why confusing?"

"Because casual Number One was originally Alex, and he broke all the rules, but I didn't feel a real emotional connection - it was just about the excitement. We only became a 'thing' after Adam broke up with me. Suddenly I was living with Alex, and he says he loves me and wants to marry me... and I couldn't count him as a casual anymore."

"Did Alex share your 'flirts' the way Adam did?"

"Noooo. He was self-conscious that I'd been underage when we'd started... and that it might eventually slip out."

"Did you miss the sharing?"

"Actually, yah," Gin nodded. "Once I was with Alex, that part of my life swung the other way. Between drinking and PTSD, I blocked a lot of it out. What I do remember: if Adam was Romeo, Alex was Lothario."

"Seriously? Did you like watching? Was he sharing with you?"

"No, no..." Ginny's nipples hardened just a touch. "No, he had flings on his business trips all the time, but he never tried to hide them and never threw them in my face. He was twice my age and him banging casuals just pushed my 'submissive' button."

There was a shit-storm of details swirling through my head that moment. The biggest one rose to the surface. "Alex was the guy that got another girl pregnant, right?"

"You remember. Wow. Yah. That's when he left me."

"It wasn't Lindsay, was it?"

"That would've been... interesting." It was enough to stop Ginny twirling. "No, by then, Lindsay had given up on guys. Still found them cute, but she swore them off."

"I'm surprised you didn't swear them off."

"I did, after Alex, for about three weeks." Ginnifer was holding a pose, arms out, long enough that her hands were shaking. Her eyes were welling - and I would've hugged her - but her jaw was flexing. She was focused on the pose. "And then Lindsay left."

For those of you who missed Chapter Four, Alex left after becoming an accidental father, but Lindsay "left" via a bottle of Valium. "I can not imagine."

"I left C-town, or I was going to follow her." Ginny's hands were balled into fists as she did pirouettes in the opposite direction until she stumbled and fell. She looked up, her face red. "I was kind of a mess, so... I got here, I swiped right. A lot."

"Like, literally? Tinder?"

She nodded. From the floor, she air-swiped with all the grace of a Disney princess. "Most of the time, it didn't go past drinks and flirting."

I popped an eyebrow at her. "Your flirting can go a pretty good distance."

"And sometimes it did, but I drank. I drank a lot. Most guys figured I was a lightweight; they made the mistake of matching me drink for drink. Honestly, that's why only two guys ever made it past second base and none of them ever made it 'home'."

"So, 'Tinder' counts for two of the six?"

"The new Numbers One and Two," Ginnifer nodded. She climbed back to her feet and flew through a series of moves that had to have been a choreographed dance. "I was trying to cut back on Tinder - and drinking - when I started going out dancing. By myself. I wasn't really out to meet guys, so I practiced Resting Bitch Face a lot."

I chuckled. "Did it work?"

"Not really. RBF only got me targeted by pickup artists. I remember letting some guy get to second base, on the dance floor, and he bragged he was going to bang me right there. At the time... I probably would've let him, but this other guy thought he was being a dick about it - and punched him out."

"I like this guy."

"You'd get along with Maxx. He was tossed out of the club, and so was I - because apparently it was my fault. But that was okay. I went down on Maxx in his car."

"Jeezuz, you're..."

"A slut?"

"I was going to say a Samaritan, but slut works really well, too. Is it wrong that it's so much fun to say that about my fiancée?"

She gave me a "doi!" look, which melted into a slow nod. "I'm still wrapping my head around it. Thing is, when you say it, it still means what it means, but where it comes from is such..."

"A term of endearment."

"It is! It really is!"

"Never forget that..." Which brought me back to Max. This took a little work to map out. "So we're headed toward Serious Relationship Number Three, Ed - while casuals One and Two are Tinder-boys. Max had to be casual relationship Number Three?"

Ginny nodded. "Hadn't quite met Ed yet. Maxx was never more than a fling... but we actually saw each other eight times after that first night. That's when I started thinking maybe I could find a storybook ending." The frenetic dancing had frozen into poses again, like she was trying to cool down. "...A la seconde... Croise derriere..."

"I understood that one. Do you speak French?"

"Oui."

"So, eight... nine times? You could call that a relationship."

"Neuf fois, but we never really dated. We never 'slept' together. Maxx picked me up, I'd give him head in his car and he'd drop me off. We were both happy. That little black book full of numbers? He's in there. Efface derriere... En face..."

"What ruined that perfectly good relationship?"

"I met Edward at the Hi Hat. Ed was drunk, rocking out, and waxing poetic on the Sex Pistols. I figured Ed would peak at diversion, not a relationship, so there was a little overlap with him and Maxx. Enough wine, Ed eventually learned about Maxx... I think that's when he got certain... notions... about me."

"Can't imagine. How long did you and Ed go out?"

Ginny pursed her lips and took her seat back at the breakfast bar. She tried counting it out then just shook her head. "A year and change? Hard to say when we actually became 'a couple'."

"I'm oddly aroused right now."

"I'm not surprised, you dirty voyeur."

Could not stop the chuckle that spilled out. "Still can't picture you on Tinder."

"Technically, I still have the account," she nodded. "But I haven't looked at it for a couple of months. Obvious reasons, with the biggest standing in front of me."

Other details were coming into focus. Like that she'd been groped at work for more than a year, but only broke up with her ex five months ago. Overlap. "Re-flesh my memory: Morty's hand jobs didn't start until after your split with Ed, right?"

She nodded. "We were dating when I told him about The Fondlings. Ed knew that it was a guilty pleasure and he encouraged me to give a little back. I didn't, at least not while we were still together, but it was on my mind when I eventually did..."

"Was Ed was a bad influence... or a good one?"

Ginny shrugged. "With the exception of having an actual mohawk, Ed was about as close to Sid Vicious as I've seen in California."

"Is he at least in a band?"

"You'd think. But I can't sing, and he can sing even less than me."

"Also true for Sid Vicious." I held up my hands, framing Gin like a director."I'm trying to picture Princess Ginnifer going out with an actual punk. It's odd..."

She did a deep bow, complete with arm flourish, and sat down. She looked like she was about to collapse. "From Sid Vicious to Judge Wapner? Yah, it was definitely a contrast."

I looked into her eyes, as deep as I could, and still couldn't see the bottom. "You're exhausted, aren't you?"

"You have no idea how much confession just sucks out out you..." She slumped. "Do you still love me?"

"More now than I twenty minutes ago."

She wrapped an arm around my neck and planted a long, juicy kiss. "God, I love you."

I scooped her off her feet and carried her upstairs. "C'mon, gorgeous. Time for bed."

"Bed...?" she blinked.

"My mistake. Time for sleep."

###

Wednesday, I was out before dawn. Again. I hated getting up that early, but it only took a few days to get back in the habit.

I'd be leaving in a week and a half to go on location and that energy was building.

In the production office, plane tickets were purchased, cargo transport arranged, shooting permits confirmed, inevitable crew changes, talent issues. All the things that happen when you build a temporary machine with a million moving parts.

We traded the lunch "Love You" text and she got hers in before I got mine in. It was a pastoral ten seconds in the middle of the day.

Then boom, right back at it another eight hours.

By the time I escaped, I was exhausted. Honestly, it was probably dumb of me to drive home the way I did.

Once home, she lavished lip love all over me - but I almost fell asleep.

I had to get some sort of exercise so instead of just passing out like I wanted to (or needed to), I got shorts on and got out the door. It was early August, so even in late dusk, it was still hot out.

Gin geared up, putting on a mid-thigh running skirt, and followed me out the door. She was just a few steps behind as her voice carried over: "I've heard that good-looking guys are generally a little nuts and I'm starting to see those rumors are true."

"Nice."

I gave my fiancée a once-over. The running skirt had high pockets and side-thingies that made her look really comfortable. A matching sports bra in high-contrast gray and orange and she looked like a commercial for a gym. "You look great, by the way."

"Thank you!" She gave a little curtsy - then grabbed the lower hem and flashed me.

"Ha! Awesome," I laughed. No panties; she was running commando. I guess, with the thigh gap, she didn't need a liner, either. "Damn, you're a sexy one."

"Kinda hoping you'd think so..."

The traffic passed and we crossed the street.

I gave her room to run alongside. "Anything 'interesting' at work today?"

"Yeah, but not in 'that' way."

"Okay, I'm game. What's up?"

"After the settlement, the whole temp thing? One of our 12 attorneys left the firm. He was one of the two partners in the New York branch."

"That sucks." I swatted away a mosquito. "Professionalism complaints?"

"Sorta? Not that it happened, it was that they got caught."

"That's surprising me less and less."

"Not that it matters," she shrugged. "In less than two hours, they picked up a new partner based in Miami."