What'cha waiting on, McCall?

An email exchange from earlier this week:

To: A bunch of people
From: Dana
re: May 18

Natalie and I are going out to El Perro Fumando this Friday around 5, should anyone care to join us. (Some of you already indicated that you care to join us, but insisted on a reminder, since apparently I'm everyone's secretary these days...) Anyway, join us if you can, and if you can't, we reserve the right to talk about you behind your back ;-)

To: Dana
From: Casey
re: Re: May 18

Talking about me behind my back sounds ok but I think it's better if you talk about me while I'm standing right in front of you! ;)

To: Casey
From: Dana
re: Re:Re: May 18

Come stand right in from of me and I'll talk about you as much as you'd like me to.


(He still hasn't taken me up on that, but the day is only halfway over. I don't really expect him to show, although it would brighten my day.)

Flirtus interruptus

Casey was in on Monday, but as soon as we started to chat, one of our co-workers from the third floor stopped by and monopolized the conversation (for a long enough time that Casey insisted that I sit down, because the idea of my standing in high heels was starting to hurt his own back!) and before I knew it, quitting time had rolled around and I had to pick up The Daughter and the Elder Son from school.

Casey was in again today, and I stopped by just before noon, on the off chance that he had not gone out with the other guys (Shel mentioned that she saw "her boys" heading to the elevator while I was in her office moment earlier). And, surprise surprise, he was there working on the computer with his back to the doorway. I sauntered in and rubbed his shoulders to get his attention. We made some small talk about the recent benefits meeting, and how people get worked up about nothing whenever there is talk of changing how the bonus pool is distributed.

"You know me, Dana," Casey sighed, "I don't count on that money no matter what. If you give me a dollar more than what I've got now, I'm happy."

"I understand," I replied. "I mean, I'm happy that I get a bonus, even if it's going to be smaller than what we used to get. The fact that our raises are bigger means more to me anyway." And I saw an opening to change the direction of the conversation.

"Which is more fun anyway?" I asked, "My budgeting the bonus money, or shopping for a new outfit with strappy shoes?"

"Definately the strappy shoes," he smiled, admiring my high heeled sandals and newly painted toenails. "I like the way those pants fit, by the way."

"You missed it yesterday," I pouted. "I had the good underwear and thigh high stockings. But you weren't here to notice. Not that you would have known just by looking..."

"See, you really should go with no underwear at all!"

"Ah, but you can't tell just by seeing me whether I've got a thong on or nothing at all. Besides, I need to wear something when I have a skirt on, since I do have children who might need to climb on me before or after work."

"Alright," he conceded, "I can see your point. But turn around, let me see if I can tell the difference today....hmmmm....nope, I can't actually tell. So, I'll assume you don't have anything on at all."

Just then Shel appeared at the door.
"I'm sorry to interrupt social hour," she broke in, "but do you know where I can find a cart? The meetings room is locked up, so I can't even borrow the ice bucket, and I need to get set up for this meeting..."

"Check with Natalie," I offered, "I think she has a key. Otherwise, I don't know where else to look."

And, despite her contention that she was wicked busy setting up the meeting, Shel proceeded to start a discussion.

"Hey, Casey, I didn't know you had those tattoos! They're awesome."

"Thanks," he replied, pulling up his sleeve a bit more to show the design. "They go all the way across my back. I can't believe you didn't realize that I had them, though."

"Dana told me you had tatoos, but I didn't believe her. After all, there's no reason she would have to see you with your shirt off."

"I've worked down the hall from Casey for almost two years," I smiled. "This isn't the first time he's worn a short sleeved shirt, you know."

"So," Shel turned her attention back to Casey, "didn't it hurt to get that much done? I mean, mine didn't hurt much, but I think that's because I was drunk."

"What do you have?" Casey asked. And suddenly, Shel was anxious to leave.

"I've, uh, gotta set up for this meeting!"

"Seriously," Casey prodded, "what's your tat?"

"It's nothing, no big deal, I'll tell you...at a later date," she stammered. And rushed out of the room.

Shaking our heads, we tried to regroup to our earlier conversation, but the mood had been broken. I left to eat lunch, Casey tied up the last of his work, and perhaps we will try again next time...

Torture...

Casey was in today. When I stopped into the office, he and Dan were just regrouping from their earlier meetings with one of our biggest clients(and Casey was, as always, eating).

Casey looked good. Today called for a crisp, white dress shirt and tie. Between the accentuated broad shoulders, and the twinkle in his eyes when I teased him about how he could be bribed with homemade cookies, it was hard to concentrate.

Sweet mother of Jesus, that man is hard to resist sometimes.

So...

So...
It's been a week since I walked into Casey's office. And, because I am me, I have to second guess myself about what I did.

After all, I kissed him. But he didn't kiss me back. Maybe I should back off a bit and let him make the next move, I think. Because continuing to throw myself at him is a bit...pathetic and sad.

And I refuse to be that girl.

Oh. My. Damn.

Right before quitting time today,
I kissed Casey.

Holy, shit.
I kissed him. Which should not have me this freaked out, since we did a lot more in that hotel room at the conference, but somehow it is a huge deal that
I went into his office and I shut the door and walked over to where he was sitting in front of his computer and
I
kissed
Casey.

I can't really say it was impulsive, since I had thought about doing it earlier in the day and had even made sure the blinds were closed when he left for his meeting in case I decided to actually go through with it, and I even stopped in the ladies room after lunch to use some mouthwash, but I still can't believe that I. Kissed. Casey.

I had toyed it over in my mind, just goofing around, how funny it would be if we were alone in a room or the elevator or whatever, and I just planted a fabulous kiss on him right before confidently walking out the door leaving him gaping speechlessly, like what you see in the movies and such.

Which is not exactly how it happened.

Casey showed up at the office mid-morning, which I knew he would today because I knew he had a late morning meeting with his supervisor. And I saw him come in and I checked out the view when he leaned over to plug in his laptop.

When I stopped in to say "hi," as I always do with all the boys- not just Casey, since I'm friendly that way- we made flirty small talk. He asked if I'd had any more dreams lately. I hated to burst his bubble, but...no. I asked if he'd been dreaming of me. My bubble was not burst, even though he said "no."

"I don't have dreams," he said.

"Sure you do," I told him, "you just don't remember them. Which supports that you haven't been dreaming about me. If you'd been dreaming of me, you'd remember." (Talk about false bravado!)

As we were talking, Shel came by my cube to find me. She saw me in Casey's office as she went to leave, and she gave me the paperwork she'd been coming to deliver and she teased me about how I spent my time chatting instead of working. Casey acted offended that he wasn't the only one I spent my time with. Shel, too, made small talk with Casey, letting him know about the ultrasound she'd had since his last time in the office, when she found out for sure that she's carrying a girl. After she left, joking about how crazy I was to have had three kids, since she was freaking out about having two, Casey asked about the kids, verifying how many I have and how old they were and such. I admitted that the last one was...not planned, and that I made sure that I was really done this time.

"No more pregnancies for me," I said firmly. "Now I get to work on being a MILF."

"Sounds like you're well on your way," he said.

And I went back to work. And thought again about whether to stop back into his office at lunch, since none of his officemates were around. But he had an impromptu lunch meeting instead. During the course of the afternoon, we passed each other in the hallways a few times, catching each others' eyes. He dropped into my cubicle to borrow a Post-It note, the stapler, an interoffice envelope a few times.

It was close to the end of the day, and I knew I needed to leave on time. He was not in his office when I was logging off and gathering my stuff to take home. Then I heard him return to his desk.

So...
I walked into the office, and leaned back against the door, shutting it quietly behind me. He looked up, slightly curiously.

"Hi," I said, my voice slightly husky with nervousness. "I...just wanted to...say good-bye before I left." I walked closer and leaned back against the desk next to his chair. "I didn't want you to let Shel give you the impression that I treat everyone the way I treat you, that you weren't...special..." and I leaned closer and
I
Kissed
Casey
full on the mouth
and took a step back and took a breath. And then I turned to leave.

"Well. I...have to say that are well on your way. You are definately a fucking MILF."

I blushed slightly.

"And by the way," Casey said, "you can stop in and do that anytime you'd like. But right now, I can't stand up quite yet."

Sweet mother of God,
I kissed Casey.
And it certainly got his attention.

Dream a little dream

The dream started tame enough, although still a bit peculiar. It took place at my office, but the layout was much larger, so my cubicle area had a lot of empty floor space nearby. Which is kind of strange, since space is at such a premium right now. I was sitting on the floor with some of the meeting planning staff (one of whom, in reality, has left the company) putting together some sort of...holiday gift boxes or something. Whatever.

And in the dream, Casey passed by. You remember Casey, don't you? Casey from the hotel bar at the conference last fall? Casey who commented on the pencil in my hair? Casey who held our good-bye hug after the Christmas party happy hour a bit longer than typical co-workers do? Yeah, that Casey. Anyway, the dream turned a bit more...interesting after that.

Casey walked by, and he breezily said hello to the people I was working with. And he tightly said hello to me, as though it was an effort to do so. And I awkwardly said hi to him, as if I wished he hadn't spoken in the first place. That, too, was a bit odd. I don't recall us having every really been tense with each other like that. Our last conversation ended a bit abruptly, but our brief hallway meetings since then haven't been awkward at all. So, back to the dream.

I had to go to my cubicle to get something from my purse. And who did I find there? Why, it's Casey. Leaving me a note. A note to say...something. I don't know what, I didn't get a chance to read it. Because he stopped writing it and said "I was just leaving you a note." To which I replied, "But now you don't have to because...I'm here."

And then we were kissing and leaning against my cube wall. Right in the middle of the marketing department. And people passed by on their way to the printer, and no one seemed at all taken aback by the make-out session happening in front of their eyes.

Then my alarm went off.

Oh, and guess who was unexpectedly in the office today, for the first time in two weeks? Hello, Casey.

Professional interaction

My hair is twisted into a sloppy up-do. Because of my haste to leave the house this morning, I have no make-up on. My skirt is stylish and has a nice matching jacket, but it is long and does not show off my legs to their best advantage. Yet today is one of the few days Casey showed up in the office.

"Why do you show up when I look like crap?" I asked him when I saw him in the hall.

"What do you mean?" he asked, seemingly sincerely.

"I've got my glasses on, no make-up. This skirt is comfortable, but you can't see a damned thing. I had some pretty hot days last week, but you weren't here to see them. Hell, on the day we had our health clinic, I had to take my blouse off in the conference room; I even had a matching lace bra on. You missed out on that. But THIS," as I gestured from head to boot, "is what you get to see?!"

"No, I like the pencil in the hair. That's a good look for you," he smirked. "Tell you what- I'll send you an email warning you next time."

"As well you should. I'd hate for you to miss out on the wonder that is me."

Flying

My plane was delayed. By the time we boarded, the events of the week and the work of the conference had taken their toll. I was tired and restless.

I closed my eyes and began to replay the night before, and some of the conversations that led up to it. How we flirted in the staff office as I prepped the meeting materials, although we both admitted that we flirt with everyone. The agreement to meet for a drink after the booth closed, with the implication that this was more than just happy hour, and not planned as a group get together.

I skipped over the memory of waiting for you as our planned time came and went. When you finally arrived, two hours after expected, it was almost too late. The people who had stayed with me were taking their leave, and I would have been gone as well, and our chance would have been missed.

I remembered the moments in front of the bar, and moving to a table as the bartender gave us our last drinks before he closed. The closeness of our barstools, the "accidental" brushes when our legs shifted. And the knowledge, for us both, that this was not about my marriage or yours. It was only about a man who likes to have fun, and a woman in need of reaffirming something she may have lost or may not have had to begin with.

As I rewound and replayed stepping into the elevator, I smiled at the memory of you pressing first the top floor, then the lobby, to make our time on board last longer. We exited on your floor, and snuck through the hallway like kids sneaking into a closed dormitory after curfew. Your keycard stuck a few time before working, heightening the tension. Once inside, we barely got the door closed before you had me pinned to the wall, your hands beneath my sweater, my arms flung over your shoulders. As we hastily stumbled toward the bed, quickly moving aside your laptop and other items tossed there before you left earlier (perhaps I was wrong in assuming you knew we'd be coming back there) I lost track of time.

I drifted to sleep on the plane, remembering bits and moments that gave me a flutter in my stomach and a familiar ache. There is a line I can't cross, but we didn't reach it yet. Even if we don't take another step in that direction, even if we go back to just the co-workers we were a week ago, revisiting those few hours can take me back.

What happens at the conference...

Single malt, on the rocks, for you. A lemon drop martini for me. And a conversation I was very surprised to have.

You said the small things were what did it for you. The way I leaned back against the desk while you were checking emails. How I tuck my hair behind my ear while I talk. The look I give you when I'm challenging what you've said, the way I say "Really?" and raise my eyebrow. The joking conversation we had before harassment training, and how you sat on the other side of the room not because you didn't enjoy being near me, but rather that you may enjoy it too much. The feisty attitude when I pretend to scold you for something.

You say that Dan and Isaac notice some of the same things. That when the door to your shared office is closed, the conversation inside is less about marketing than it is about the cut of my suit and height of my heels.

I haven't seen you since I left for my hotel room that night, and I don't know whether what you said in the small hours of morning will hold up under the fluorescent lights of the office, whether coffee would encourage you the same way Glenlivit did. But our glances and smirks have just taken on a whole new meaning.