I'm Dating Our Mailgirl Ch. 05

We greeted each other, then she added it was after midnight in Atlanta. "I'm sorry. I didn't even think about that. I just had a bad day at work and I needed to talk to you."

"Is everything alright at work? Is that job 2,000 miles from home working out for you?" She had to get a dig in about how far from "home" I was. For her, Atlanta, specifically Roswell, the suburb just north of there, would always be my "home."

"Yea, yea, just great. I just had 1 bad day."

Mom kept up, "Well I'm sure some turkey and dressing, sweet potato souffle, creamed corn and broccoli casserole will cheer you up. Thanksgiving is only about 3 weeks away. You will be coming home for that, won't you."

"Yea, I think I can get off. Mom, can I bring home a friend?"

"Of course you can, dearie. You're not getting sweet on some beau, are you?"

"No, no, nothing like that. It's a girl I work with. We've really become good friends. I don't think she has a family to go home to for the holiday, and I'd like to bring her to Atlanta." I didn't want to get into the dynamics of the relationship.

"Of course, you know your little friends are always welcome at our house."

"I'm not really sure she can get off from work. She really does have a critical job and the company can't run smoothly without her. I'll see if we can work that out and let you know later this week." We said out good nights and I tried, unsuccessfully, to get to sleep.

My phone rang at 2:17. I didn't recognize the number in the caller ID, but it looked familiar. I thought, good grief who could that be this late. "Hello."

I recognized 9's voice and I recalled the telephone number from her only other call to me. "I wanted to tell you 'good night'."

"Thank you. Good to hear your voice."

"Monica, I'm really looking forward to this weekend. I really need to see you."

"Of course, baby. I want to see you too."

She asked me, "Will you take me to Blush & Blu Saturday? I want to sing karaoke."

I had to laugh. "Sure, but that's a strange request for 2:17 in the morning."

"I want to dance with you. I want to hold you tight. I want to take you home and make love with you."

"That sounds like an ideal date." There was silence. I wanted to ask her what her motivation was for calling me. Was it related to the love nest she had to climb out of to make the call? I wanted to know how her night of love making was, but then I didn't want to know. I did not dare ask and renew those wounds again.

"I talked to Mama earlier. She wants me to invite you to come to Atlanta for Thanksgiving with our family."

"Wow, have you considered all the dynamics involved in that? Where will I sleep? Are you going to come out of the closet? What about getting off from work?"

"You're going to sleep with me, in my bed. Do you think it may be at all possible for you to get off? I know things usually wind down considerably at work. They shouldn't need the full compliment of mailgirls those days."

"I can probably arrange it. I may have to make a few trades with the other girls."

There was that elephant in the room again, but 9 added, "I've got a few things to bargain with. I just won't use my body this time."

We didn't talk much longer, "Listen baby, thanks for calling, but we both need our beauty rest." We exchanged affectionate goodbye's and the call ended.

TUESDAY LUNCH

At 12:30, I got to the Hawk's Nest. Olivia was already seated at one of the tables in front of the restaurant. She told me, "I wanted to make sure 1 got here in plenty of time. Grab some lunch and join me." I got a pre-made chicken salad sandwich, some navy bean soup and a glass of iced tea. I was getting ready to sit down at the table when I saw her type out something on her tablet. She put it down as I sat down. 3 minutes late, 9 came out of the elevator with the courier's pouch. She walked over to the security station in the middle of the lobby. One of the guards attached a dog collar around her neck with about a 4' leash. He put his hand on her ass and was guiding her out the door. Olivia was furiously typing something on the tablet. I could barely make out what the guards were saying. The female guards called to them, "Wait a minute. They want me to take her." She came around and grabbed the leash and replace her hand on 9's buttocks. Olivia typed something else. They were headed out the back door that led out to the opposite street from where the building fronted when the other guard said, "They want you to take her out the front door." The guard didn't have to force her to change directions, but she clearly applied some pressure on the leash to make her turn around. With that they were out the front door.

Olivia explained, "9 has to make a delivery to the Greenleaf building." The Greenleaf building was "behind" our building and 1 block over. It would have been a fairly short trip through the back door but by going out the front door they would have to travel 2 full blocks plus a half block out the door and another 1/2 block to the front door of the other building. Three full block of public exposure being dragged through the streets with a leash by a female guard presumably guiding her by the ass the whole way. Olivia smirked, "I thought you might want to see 9 off for her first run in the new delivery territory." We ate our lunches in relative silence. I was experiencing 9's humiliation with being publicly displayed, but then I wondered if she wasn't basking in her new-found spirit of liberation in being displayed so publicly. I would have to ask her about it this weekend.

Olivia asked if I would be at the fishbowl this evening. I answered her honestly, "I don't have any particular interest now that the girls aren't going to be shorn."

"What! you hypocrite. You who were the great champion of saving the mailgirls' hair admits that you were going to get off on seeing them shorn."

"No. I just wanted to be there to be supportive in their humiliation. I wonder if Rose would have been there tomorrow to see 5's, uh, 'performance'."

This was my first acknowledgement of the dark little secret of Rose and her, for lack of a better word, infatuation with 5. The remark just lay there, but Olivia did acknowledge, "Yes. You're right. That is always an interesting little side show." What did she know. How much has Rose revealed. She made no effort to conceal her infatuation with 5 from me, but how about her colleagues in HR.

Near the end of our lunch, 9 and the guard came back. The guard removed her leash and gave her a firm smack on the ass and sent her on her way. I'm sure 9 had seen Olivia dining with me. She would have no way of know that it was a command performance on my part and that it was not a fully voluntary not-a-date date. I was hoping she would call me this evening so I could explain.

We each went back to work.

MY JOB REVIEW

I had put on my most professional blue suit for work. I accented it with my favorite red and blue scarf I wore with my white blouse.

Work was uneventful the rest of the day. I left my office at 6:50 and took the elevator to the 42nd floor. I was greeted there by 11. "Good evening, Ms. Ross. I'll be waiting on you this evening." 11 -- Lisa as she was introduced to me in the warehouse, had no problem calling me Monica there. But she was very formal and business-like here.

I hadn't even thought that one on the mailgirls would be attending to our needs during the meal. She led me through the mail dining area where about 20 businessmen and 4 women were socializing. Half of the guests were Oriental. Then I saw 9 waiting on them along with 2 and 7. Again, I hadn't even considered the possibility I would run into 9 on the 42nd floor. But at least we weren't going to have the embarrassment of having her have to wait on us.

Ms. Parker, Joyce, was already in the room. She extended her hand in a business-like manner. "Come, let's be seated. 11, will you get us a round of drinks? I believe you usually have gin and bitter lemon, Monica?" How did she know that? Did she have a full dossier on me? Then I remembered Rose had bought me a drink one evening at the Blush & Blu. Did she feel compelled to report my drink preferences back to Joyce? What else was in my dossier?

"If you don't mind, since we are in November, I usually prefer bourbon and water. Joyce, is this a test? Am I not supposed to be drinking during office hours?"

"7:00 is certainly not normal office hours. Unless you're a mailgirl, of course. No, it's not a test. I want this meeting to be as relaxing as possible. 11, I'll have scotch and soda. Let's sit here on the couch before we get down to business."

"Excuse me, but shouldn't Bill Nelson be here? After all, he is my immediate superior."

"Bill Nelson is an idiot. He cannot judge talent. He couldn't even judge a pie in a baking contest. And you, my dear, I understand, are a huckleberry pie with rare subtlety and taste. Bill Nelson is a persimmons pie.

We sat there drinking our drinks and talking about nothing in particular. Then 11 came in and asked if we were ready for our first course. Joyce nodded her assent and 11 brought in a small soup tureen.and served us each a cup of pumpkin soup. Joyce commented, "I understand you are quite a gourmet. Food is not one of my strong suits. I hope you approve of my menu selection for the evening. Pumpkin Soup is a little unusual, but I thought it would get us into a festive holiday mood."

Next 11 brought in two salads. She had a 3-unit salad dressing server and asked first me and then Joyce which salad dressing we preferred and she spooned it onto our salad. Then she brought in the entree, beef tenderloin with a side of asparagus and garlic potatoes. Joyce and I chatted during the meal, but it was all about me and my interests and background.

At one point she noted that she understood I was dating 9. I knew I had to tread lightly. She asked when I realized I was a lesbian. I told her that I didn't think of my self in terms of that label. I told her 9 was my first experience with a woman. "Interesting," was her only comment. She asked if I had been with any other women. I told her no, but Olivia was being persistent about going out with me and I had agreed to see her tomorrow night. "Interesting", she replied again. "So your relationship with 9 is not exclusive?"

"I really haven't thought about it. I just haven't been interested in anyone else, male or female. Besides I really don't think of it in terms of a date with Olivia. We just had lunch and it seemed like a natural acknowledgement of her new promotion for us to go out." I fudged the truth.

She kept pushing, "What do you find interesting about Olivia that you would break your monogamous relationship with 9 by going out with her?"

"You're a very good interviewer. I really don't know how to answer that. I did tell her that with her new promotion, I found her more interesting."

"I see. So do you find yourself attracted to powerful women?"

"Well, it's not a question of being attracted to more powerful women; it just seemed like a nice gesture in view of her hew position. Besides she has been after me for awhile to go out with her. This just seemed like a good opportunity."

"And 9 won't mind?"

"It's not 9's place to mind. I am an adult and I'm capable of making my own decisions."

"9 has relationships with other women. That doesn't bother you?"

"If I'm going to be dating a mailgirl, I realize there are certain requirements of her job that would involve, uh, as you describe it, 'relationships' with other women. I accept that as a part of her job description."

"Monica, you seem to be a very level headed, sophisticated and understanding woman. Those are strong characteristics that Bill didn't even spot in your evaluation. I wonder if there are other flaws in his evaluation." That seemed a little ominous, but although I wondered what that comment meant, I let her remark pass without comment.

By now we were finishing our dessert, Charlotte Russe. "How do you like the Charlotte Russe?" she inquired.

I said the entire meal was outstanding. "Good, I'm glad you enjoyed it. Next time I'll have the chef prepare the Charlotte Russe with huckleberries, in honor of your recently discovered trait." She smiled as she said that. I wondered what she meant by "next time".

11 brought in two snifters of cognac. "Monica, I usually don't smoke, but one indulgence I allow myself is a very occasional postprandial cigar. Would you mind?"

"Well, I guess not, but I thought smoking was not allowed in the dining areas."

"Child, the door is closed, and when are you going to learn I make the rules." She brought out a tin of macanudos and withdrew a petite cigarillo and lit it up. I must admit it was an interesting sight, seeing the head of HR light up a cigar albeit a petite one. "Are you sure you won't join me?"

"I'm alright."

"This has been very nice, but I'm afraid now we must get down to business." She walked over to a side table and brought over a leather portfolio. She opened it, extracted a set of two papers and closed it. "Here is the evaluation Bill Nelson submitted. Please read it over."

I glanced at it. Certain phrases kept jumping out at me. "Unsatisfactory" "Sub-Standard" "Needs to make much improvement" "Not up to Seahawk standards". There were two "satisfactories" for "appearance" and "attendance". Specific notations were "does not adhere to the company culture among her peers" "Does not recognize a clear understanding of the responsibilities of other employees" "Does not promote effective working relationships among other employees". I looked at the end of the evaluation. "Recommendations: We recommend Monica be placed on a Performance Improvement Plan (PIP)" and that she not receive any increase in remuneration at this time.

Needless to say, I was devastated. But I couldn't help but wonder, if I was treated to this meal in view of this evaluation, what would I have been served if the review were more positive. I wondered if this was a form of a final meal. "Would you mind if I had a drag from your cigar? I think I need it." She took her cigarillo and placed it on my lips. I gently took it from her hand and took a drag. It nearly choked me; it certainly didn't relax me as I had hoped it would.

"Don't inhale, dear." I handed the cigar back to her.

I looked up at Joyce. "This is quite disturbing."

"Don't worry, my dear. I told you what I thought of Bill Nelson's evaluating skills. When I saw this, I decided it needed a little tweaking. Here is the version I have tweaked."

She handed me another form. Certain words jumped out at me. Instead of "Unsatisfactory" "Sub-Standard" "Needs to make much improvement" "Not up to Seahawk standards", I saw "Excellent, Very good, exemplary." I saw the phrases "Improves administrative support systems" "Is highly respected by employees for sharing concerns, problems, and opportunities" "Builds strong relationships with others."

I looked at the final paragraph: "We recommend Monica be fast tracked onto a career path that may eventually lead to her assuming the responsibilities of the department head," and "She should receive a 10% salary increase." I said, "I don't understand."

"It's very simple my dear. As part of the Seahawk Industries self evaluation, you get to choose the evaluation you want placed in your personnel file."

"Of course, I want this one," as I pointed to the more positive form.

"It's not quite that simple. Come with me, my dear, over here." She led me by the hand over to the love seat. She shouted, "11, please come here. 11!" 11 came back into the room, "Bring us two more snifters of cognac." We sat down, but she did not let go of my hand. "Since we are getting to know each other better, let me tell you a little about myself. I came to work at Seahawk 28 years ago. I was fresh out of college, young, inexperienced and naive in the ways of the world. I was taken under the wings by a 35-year old executive in the Finance Department. She taught me about broad new worlds that I never knew existed. We became lovers." She had not slipped the description "she" by me. "We developed a loving and caring relationship. We complimented each other, but she was able to use my position in HR to mold our inclusiveness policies and to broaden them and to have Seahawk embrace it's current openness toward homosexuals. We did not flaunt our sexuality. But, in fact, we did live together. By taking a low-keyed approach, I feel we did more to further the acceptance of homosexuals and especially lesbians. I sincerely believe the groundwork we laid led to the eventual acceptance of the mailgirl program with its seething lesbian sexuality."

"Are you still together?" I naively asked. I was trying to figure out who her lover was but I wasn't that familiar with people in the Finance Department.

"Alas, no. Three years ago she left me." She was drawing me into her narrative and I risked asking her the extremely personal question.

"Why, after all those years?"

"I didn't make it clear. She died."

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

"She left a tremendous void in my life which I have not been able to fill in the ensuing three years. I miss her love and affection and her companionship, but I also miss the sexual fulfillment. Look at me, Monica. I'm a 51 year old lesbian with fading beauty. I so yearn for that fulfillment, but where am I going to find anyone who wants to date a wilting prune of an old lesbian."

She was rather pathetic in her description, but I tried to cheer her up. "Well, your strong skills aren't in marketing. You need to describe your packaging more positively." She chuckled.

"Thank you for trying to cheer me up. I'm tired, Monica. In my years her in town, I have been able to achieve a certain acceptance in the cultural community. I serve on several boards of arts organizations. But, alas, that brings certain expectations. I'm expected to attend certain galas, openings, special performances. But for the last three year if has just been that sad old aging lesbian who always comes by herself. I tried the services of an escort service, but I didn't want to spend an evening with some gigolo. I craved the company of a younger woman. All the female escorts they were able to provide were aging prostitues who weren't that far behind me in years. They did not fit into my social circles. I haven't been able to find an escort service that can provide the young, attractive, educated, refined woman who I would want to be seen with. That is until now."

The silence was deafening. "You can have your positive evaluation. I only ask of you that you escort me, date me, as it were, maybe three, at most four times a month. Maybe 5 times during the upcoming holiday season. Be my companion for certain events that I will let you know about well in advance."

I mulled this over in my mind. What she was proposing did not bother me. She could get me into many doors that otherwise would remain closed to me. There would be 9 to deal with, but I didn't see that as insurmountable, especially when she understood what I was getting in return. Besides, I was actually starting to feel sorry for this, as she described herself "wilting prune of an old lesbian."

"Alright, I can accept that."

"I have perhaps been too subtle. I want to make it abundantly clear. We are to become lovers. You are to lie in my bed and fulfill me sexually. You are to be fulfilled by me."

I gulped and swallowed hard. She got up and walked back over to the table. She lifted both evaluations. "Alright, miss hot-shot MBA negotiator, which shall it be?"

Was she making me the proverbial offer I couldn't refuse. "You have couched it in terms of a negotiation. Maybe I have a few more terms I want included in our, uh, understanding." I couldn't believe that I was about to negotiate the terms of my becoming Joyce's paramour, her consort, her gigolo, her whore.