Scissor Link by Georgette Kaplan (novels to improve english .txt) 📗

“The last e-mail was really more of a movie recommendation.”

“True, but Ella Enchanted was pretty good, right?”

“It seemed to try a little hard for my tastes.”

“Wow,” Wendy enunciated. “I know, not the time or place, but you’d better like The Princess Bride.”

“No, you caught me, I’m a robot.” Janet adjusted her glasses. “All right. You’re uncomfortable with planning out activities.”

“Well, don’t handcuff me out of nowhere or anything, but if you’re just gonna tell me your fingers are all—jilly, I don’t need a trigger warning.”

“All right. A list, then, of what you’d be comfortable with.”

Wendy hiccupped a laugh. “Would you like our kinky sex to have a mission statement too?”

“Wendy, this is serious. I don’t want to do something that’s going to make you uncomfortable.”

“And I trust you not to. Look, I’m not saying I’m down for anything, I can come up with a few things that I’d prefer to die not having on my hard disk. And if you’re worried something crosses a line, of course ask me if it’s cool. I’m not gonna think you’re weird if you want to pee on me.” Wendy added quickly, “I mean, I’m not gonna let you do it either!”

“Wendy, please, I worry about hygiene enough without adding that to the mix.” Janet speared another chunk of chicken, and Wendy noticed she let out another unconscious little moan when she bit into it. Wendy smiled. Happy Ms. Lace.

“I’d just like it if you were a little spontaneous, in the moment. Give me a one-minute warning. But even if we make a list, I’m not going to freak out if you order off the menu.”

“Very well. That does leave the matter of a safe word,” Janet continued, holding the tines of her fork aloft, rotating them idly.

“Yeah, we should probably have one of those. I didn’t ask for one before because, y’know, I could’ve hung up.”

“Obviously, it shouldn’t be something we might say in casual conversation, so I was thinking it could be ‘trichotomy’.”

“Okay,” Wendy said, “I can’t remember that now, much less when you’ll have me bent over your knee.”

Janet gestured flippantly. “I’ll defer to your expertise.”

“Well, it’s supposed to be the watchword for ‘not all good’, so how about ‘watchword’?”

Janet nodded. “Acceptable.” Then she stopped nodding. “You know, this doesn’t have to be that sort of relationship.”

“The sex kind? Because the phone calls are great, don’t get me wrong, but I like to get more out of a relationship than a free phone sex hotline.”

“The kink,” Janet said. “Sometimes I’m not sure I understand why you’re interested in that. Being degraded. Punished. Hurt. If you think that’s a requirement to be in a relationship with me, it certainly is not.”

Wendy grew serious. “And I’m not the sort of girl who goes along with some shit she’s not comfortable with just because you’re really hot and generally amazing.”

“Why then?”

Wendy kneaded her fingers together. “I don’t know…just something about it all, I guess. Feeling something, feeling it so intensely that you almost can’t stand it, that you have to endure it. It just seems like that’s what you want out of a relationship, right? Not just ‘pleasant,’ not just ‘okay,’ but…” She circled her hands in the air. “Greatness. Even just feeling something that’s sublime.”

“You put great expectations on me, Ms. Cedar.”

Wendy mirrored her aristocratic manner. “You invite them, Ms. Lace.” She checked her watch. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go look at some funny cat videos. Work! I meant work.”

Janet glared at her, but in a fond way. And Wendy had a feeling that whatever expectations she might have of Janet, Janet was plainly determined to meet them.

Janet held her hands under running water in the executive washroom, thinking of Lady Macbeth, out damned spot; thinking of how you could have the exact opposite problem for the exact opposite reason. She didn’t want to wash away Wendy’s touch, her feel, her kiss. But she was a little too particular not to.

What a wonderful thing to be able to go and get Wendy back on her skin, whenever she chose.

“Nothing like a long lunch break when you don’t eat, is there?” Mary Borchard asked, coming up to the sink beside Janet’s and washing her hands.

Janet removed her glasses from where they hung at her neckline, putting them back on. “Depends on the company, I suppose.”

“Too true. Hear about Frederickson?”

“Yes. Leukemia, right?”

“Right.”

“Shame.”

“Shame,” Mary agreed. She dried her hands. “Won’t even be able to make it to Yuma.”

“I suppose they’ll just have to send someone else.”

“Wonder who?”

They walked out of the washroom together. About to go their separate ways when Mary called “Lauren, there you are, how’ve you been?”

Janet turned, watching a bit bemusedly as Mary cornered one of her employees.

“It’s Leslie, actually,” she said, sounding apologetic at the correction.

Mary pointed at her wedding ring. “Well, you’re married, I remembered that much right. How is your husband?”

“He’s great.”

“And the children?”

“Good,” Leslie said, brightening, before wincing. “Well, Timmy’s a bit of a struggle, but they always are at that age.”

“Good, good,” Mary said, nodding. “Give them my best, won’t you?”

“I will, Ms. Borchard.”

As she bustled off, Janet joined Mary at the elevator bank. They both reached for the call button, but Mary pressed it first, stabbing the light into it.

“She’s being let go at the end of the week,” Mary said, apropos of nothing, and watched Janet’s reaction. “You flinched. That’s why they won’t send you. You let your emotions be a part of the equation. But don’t worry. The world needs plenty of middle managers.”

The elevator arrived. Janet let Mary take it. She was in no mood to share a ride with her.

“Besides,” Mary said, “not much point in climbing the ladder. Once Old Man Savin dies, either his shithead kids or shithead grandkids or shithead nephews will take over. They’ll strip this place and sell it for parts. You’re never going to get the brass ring.”

“And you?” Janet asked.

“When the hammer comes down, someone’s gonna have to help