“Matthews, Cronjager and Associates – how can I help you?” Harriet, the queen of receptionists, poured all the sugar-sweet stuff she could spill out at the the drop of a hat into the headset while, at the same time, she shooed away Shelley. “Don't put that on my desk! It's all wet! Go away!!”
Shelley had been caught in the downpour while getting lunch for herself and Sandra and now she was trying to keep a pizza box from falling apart because it was limp from the rain.
“I think you cheated when we pulled straws”, she said to Sandra who carried a stack of folders along the corridor.
“Noooo...” Sandra blushed. She had cheated - because she hadn't wanted to look like Shelley looked now, like a soaked rag.
A mug sat on top of the stack of folders. It was a big mug, of the two-teabag size, brimming: Sandra felt that today she needed an extra large portion of tea to get through the day.
“Sandra, Michelle! Cute heels, Shelley. Like your glasses, Sandra!” How-can-I-help-you-Harriet looked up from behind the reception counter and waved.
“She's so stupid”, Shelley giggled. “She can't tell heels from sneakers.” She pointed to her Nikes which she only wore in bad weather and which she hated, as much as Sandra hated her glasses.
“I think she can”, Sandra hissed.
“Don't drop the files, Sandra!” Harriet shouted after them.
Shelley peeked into the pizza box. “It's smaller than the one we had yesterday.”
“They're all the same size”, Sandra said. “EPS - Eastern Pizza Standard.”
“Really?”
“Sure. It's government controlled. They have inspectors who check on the Pizzerias.”
“And if...?”
“Well.. that's the reason why Pizza Antonio has only four fingers on the left hand.”
“You mean...”
“For each non standard Pizza they chop off a finger.”
Shelley went pale when she heard the word 'chop'.
Then Sandra went pale, too, because she heard how-can-I-help-you-Harriet's voice from behind: “Ohh, Mrs Matthews! We didn't know you wanted to visit...”
“Shut up.” Belinda Matthews' voice had a menacing, technical quality. If female alligators could talk this would be the voice their victims would hear moments before their end.
Sandra held on the the stack of folders and grabbed her mug. She made a quick step to the right to get out of Belinda's way but I was too late.
Without stopping Belinda dumped a large bouquet in Sandra's mug. “Take care of this”, she said. “And this.” She threw her mink coat over Sandra's head. “And I want a coffee, now”, she said to the coatrack.
For Sandra the world was suddenly dark, made of mink, lacking air. She desperately tried to steady the stack of folders with the mug and flowers on top while she veered across the corridor hit by the wake of Belinda's passage. She shouted for help: 'Mmmgrrrhrmpfgrrmmm'.
Shelley didn't look or listen , her eyes were glued to Belinda's quivering butt. “Isn't she just gorgeous? So... elegant. And the heels... Ten inch!”
Sandra bumped into the corridor wall.
“Oh, Mrs Matthews...” Shelley tried to catch up with the fighter jet and was a little short of breath. “Mrs Matthews... You look just great! What a beautiful dress...”!”
“Get lost.” Belinda didn't even look at her.
John Matthews came out of his office. Belinda's clicking heels, a sixteen beat staccato, made him grin in panic. “Darling...”
Belinda didn't stop, just offered her cheek for a brief kiss.
John Matthews, too slow, kissed the air.
“I see you still keep these two creatures. I hope you don't pay them.” Belinda walked into her husband's office.
“Ha, ha, ha...” John Matthews hurried to catch up with his wife. “Not really, you know..”
“No, I don't know.” Belinda sat down behind her husband's desk, burning off some of her momentum by swiveling two, three times. “That's why I'm asking.” She pushed the intercom button. “Where's my moronic stepson? Get him here, chop chop.”
Her Husband lingered in the doorway, smiling. “Er...”
“Either come in or get out”, Belinda said. “But close the door.”
Down the corridor Sandra bumped into the other wall. “Mmmmgrumff!!!”
“I'll get the coffee!” Shelley said to the closing office door.
****
Sandra sat behind the desk, pale with anger, her hair a mess, arms crossed. She stared at the mink coat which was draped over a visitor chair. And the coat seemed to stare back. And Sandra felt the urge to grab a pair of scissors and kill it. But she was sure that the coat would grow two rows of razor-sharp teeth and sink them into her wrist.
For a change she stared at Shelley.
Shelley, who sat at the opposite desk, was busy on the computer, her mind far away, her lips moving, busy to aim a finger at the correct key, busy to check the letter she had typed, busy to search for the next key and to aim...
For a second Sandra felt the urge to torture Shelley, to tape her to the chair, take off her heels and go to work on her bare soles with the tip of felt pen. Write something like 'Why didn't you take the f***king coat off my head??' For a second she could almost hear Shelley screech and scream with laughter and a vicious smile curled her lips.
Or let out Lucifer, the big, hairy rubber spider she kept in her desk, a Halloween relic, which always made Shelley pee herself when she dangled it in front of her...
Shelley stared at the screen, hypnotized by what she had just typed which meant that she was unable to listen. But Sandra simply needed to shout at somebody right now or go insane. She made a wild guess, grabbed the phone and dialed Mrs Delgado's number.
The cat was on the phone almost immediately. “Hi! How are things?”
“I told you to get out of Mrs Delgado's flat!!! Why are you still there??”
“Found a chocolate cake. Huge! Sticky!”
“You mean you ate from Mrs Delgado's cake??”
“Well...”
Sandra felt exhausted. All the rage was gone. She looked at Shelley who was still busy composing whatever she felt she needed to put in writing. She was pretty, sweet, and she looked even more stupid than she actually was.
Sandra was suddenly sad. “I don't want a cat that talks”, she said, more to herself. “And I don't want a dim girlfriend.”
“Sorry”, the cat said. “But some things can't be changed. By the way – how's the marriage thing going? The guy with the black eye, remember...?”
Sandra sighed. “Get out of Mrs Delgado's flat and don't eat all the cake.”
“As I said: some things can't be changed.”
“You... No! You didn't eat all the cake...!”
“What's gone is gone.”
“You'll be sick!!”
“Already was.”
“At Mrs Delgado's...”
“All over the kitchen floor.”
****
On the screen was a naked guy, showing off the kind of nudity which was called 'full frontal' which meant that it was more naked than 'simply naked'.
Sandra couldn't get her eyes away. “It's unnatural”, she whispered, afraid that if she raised her voice she would attract the attention of the full frontal monster with the nick What-You-See-Is-What-You-Get.
“Sure”, Shelley said. “It's tattoos. They are never natural.”
“I'm not talking about his tattoos.”
Shelley cocked her head, squinted. She needed glasses but wouldn't be caught dead wearing a pair. “Oh – that.”
“You're crazy. They can sack you for this! It's an office computer. And it's office hours!”
“They'll never know.”
“Don't be too sure.”
“I'm logged on with Steven's ID.”
“You ARE crazy!!”
“Now what do you think of this?” Shelley opened a piece of text.
Sandra stared a the dozen, no, seven words. “You mean you worked on this all the morning??”
“You don't like it?”
“'Hot pussycat wants to play with big...' Big what?”
“It's not finished. But I think it's a really good start.”
“Hot pussycat?”
“That's the account name. Cute, isn't it?”
“Account?”
“You've got to open an account, they say. But it's easy, just a tiny bit of personal information and – pow! You're in contact with all those amazing...”
“You gave away your personal information?? Are you crazy??”
“No... I pretended I'm you. So...”
“You gave away MY personal information!!!?”
“Hey!!!” Shelley protested when Sandra pushed her aside.
“What information??? I want to know...” She clicked through what seemed an endless parade of buttons in the shape of tiny, pulsing hearts. “My phone number??? MY PHONE NUMBER???”
“Yeah, I know. Now you'll get all the hot calls but I thought...”
“AND... MY E-MAIL???”
“No, don't be silly. That's my e-mail, of course. What would you want with all those... Hey! What are you doing??”
Sandra deleted phone number and e-mail and ticked 'chat'.
“I don't want to just chat!” Shelley was desperate. “That's why I put in phone and mail! I want...”
“I know what you want”, Sandra said. “You want to play with something big. And that's what bothers me...” She moved on to the 'Your Profile Picture' tab. She gasped. “That's... that's...” She searched for words. “That's your...”
Shelly looked lovingly at the minuscule piece of cloth that was held in place on her body with almost invisible strings. “Yeah. The new bathing suit. Smashing, isn't it?”
“What I see in the background...” Sandra couldn't believe what she saw.
“I took the shot in the girl's restroom, you know, the big mirror.”
“You mean you walked into the girl's restroom, stripped, put on make-up, did your hair and made a selfie??”
“Right after we checked in this morning.” There was pride in Shelley's voice.
Sandra sat down in a visitor chair. She wanted to say something but didn't because it was useless: she knew that with each turn the conversation would take she would go deeper into the land of insanity.
“Want me to help you with the pitch?” she said.
“Oh, well... would you?” Shelley was at the keyboard again, shooting away at the pulsing heart buttons.
She stopped, frowning.
On the screen was a girl. With everything a girl needed to be a girl. Plus such a mass of muscle that it would have supported more than one man's career as a sports professional.
“I didn't know you can pierce a girl's...” Shelley looked closer, fascinated. Sandra involuntarily squeezed her thighs together. She put on her glasses. “Two studs”, she said. She looked like Shelley now, her lips moving slowly while she counted, her eyes slightly glazed.
“Nah”, Shelley shook her head. “It's too tiny for two.”
Sandra looked closer. “Three”, she said.
“What's that, there...”
“Where?”
“Where other girls have hair...”
Sandra tilted her head. “It's... words. It says...” She squinted. “It says: 'Lap it up, bitch'.”
“What does that mean?” Shelley shook her head.
Sandra pushed back the chair. “It means you're in the wrong section!” She took over again. “You're in the girl/girl section. You want to go to...” For a second she wanted to kill the designer who had decided to hype navigation by turning buttons into pulsing hearts. “You want to go... Wait a second... here.” She was back at the straight girl section where Mister Full Frontal dominated the arena. “Now...” She pulled up the seven word pitch. She licked her lips. “What do you think of...” She typed away. “...this.”
Shelley leaned forward. Her lips moved when she read. She leaned back.
“What do you mean: 'Letter in a bottle'? What bottle?”
“'Letter in a bottle' means that someone writes a letter and puts it in a bottle and throws it into the ocean for somebody to find it...”
“I don't know... What ocean? I mean...”
“It's another expression for: let fate decide, let fate bring two lovers together... It's romantic!”
“You sure?”
“What about the rest?”
“The rest?” Shelley looked puzzled.
“The other words – which come after... You didn't read it all?”
“It's so... long. I mean...”
“Long? Look – you can't just write 'Let's screw!' Who do think will come back to you?”
“A guy?”
“Mister Full Frontal?”
“The bottle thing doesn't match with 'Hot pussycat wants to play with big...'.”
“I can't think of anything that matches this!”
“You think I'm stupid, right?”
“I think you're my friend, and I care. And you deserve better than Mister Full Frontal!”
Shelley looked at Sandra. A tear suddenly ran down her cheek. “I want a guy”, she said. “A guy who belongs to me.”
“I know”, Sandra said. She pulled a tissue from the box and dabbed Shelley's eyes, then gave it to Shelley. “Blow your nose.”
Shelley blew her nose - and the world ended: the office door burst open.
“Coat! Flowers!” Belinda snapped her fingers. “Now!”
Sandra and Shelley turned to ice. They just stared, unable to move, their minds paralyzed by overload: from the door Belinda stared at them, eyes like gun-turret slits framed with black mascara and false lashes; on the screen the accessories of Mister Full Frontal demanded attention. Belinda shook her head. “You should see yourself. A pair of idiots.”
Shelley came to life first and Sandra heard her frantically hit the keyboard.
“What the f***k are you two doing there?” Belinda came towards the desk. The hammering sound behind her told Sandra that Shelly still hadn't found the key to exit the dating site and make Mister Full Frontal and Three Stud Cora, the naked, tattooed and pierced lesbian disappear.
Sandra grabbed the mink coat and held it up, blocking Belinda's way and view.
“Get out of my way!” Belinda tried to walk over Sandra but like a matador with a mink muleta Sandra countered every move she made.
Belinda grabbed the coat to pulled it away, and Sandra held on to it while Belinda's laser-ray glare seemed to burn her flesh.
Then Sandra heard a sizzling sound and the lights went out with a bang. She didn't want to but something forced her to turn around.
Shelley was on her knees, her hair a mess, her makeup smeared. She was holding on to a pair of scissors and to the power cable of the computer which was cut right in the middle.
She looked up, at Belinda, at Sandra. She dropped the cable and began to giggle.
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