Help wanted part 2

“You’re getting all fixated on the body again.”

“I’m fine with my body.”

“Then why do you say things like that?”

“Like what?”

“That you’re not pretty and you have a big ass and small tits.”

“Because it’s true!”

“You have a lovely smile and beautiful green eyes.”

“And a big ass!” She brought her feet up onto the couch, curled her arms around her knees and stared into the fire, still wrapped in her blanket.

I wasn’t going to win this.

She put her feet back onto the floor, reached for her wineglass, gulped down the last third of the glass, almost slammed it back on the coffee table in front, then curled her knees back up.

What low self-esteem she had of herself. I wondered if that was why she felt compelled to get herself tattooed and pierced. Did she need that ‘Goth Look’ to make herself different? Does looking different make you feel different? Is she that insecure?

“You’re a lovely person.” I said.

“Shut up.”

Did I really say something that wrong? That she’s pretty?

“Can I pour you some more wine?”

“Yes,” she answered in a huff. I did.

“Caitlyn, I know we’re not supposed to talk about this, but think of it this way, I’m telling the girl sitting next to me about my new employee.” She said nothing, just stared into the fire.

“I have this new employee. She had virtually no woodworking skills when she came to my shop a few weeks ago. When she showed up, I was completely shocked to find this Goth chick standing there. Nevertheless, I was in such a bind, I hired her anyway. I really wasn’t expecting too much from her.”

She pulled her knees down, took a sip of wine while taking a quick sideways glance at me.

“I’m over the moon with this girl. She’s an excellent employee. A great worker. Great with her hands. Very talented. She learns fast, she works quickly, and I can tell she puts a lot of pride into her work. Her workmanship is excellent. She’s pleasant, intelligent, witty and funny too. I hope she stays with me for a long, long time.”

She stared at me for a few moments without an expression on her face. “I have to say Doug, that I really enjoy working in the shop. For the first time in my life, someone seems to appreciate what I do. In college I’d always have criticisms ‘you could have highlighted that curve a bit more’, “what are you trying to say with that piece?’, ‘I know you can do better than a B’. In the clothing store the manageress would say ‘you could have made that sale’. All my life I’ve never been quite good enough. And I was never good enough for my parents, either. Do you think they like my tats and metal?”

“Did you do that just to piss them off?”

“No, but it was a nice side benefit.”

I said nothing.

“What I’m saying I guess,” she continued, “is thank you for not being a fucking asshole. You make me feel good about myself.”

“No Caitlyn, it’s not about me. Everything I said is true. It’s all your doing. It’s your attitude, it’s your skills and it’s your work ethic. Plus I think you’re pretty.”

She smiled. “But I still have a fat ass.”

“Doesn’t matter it’s still sexy.” I wished I hadn’t said that but it came out anyway.

“Oh, you think I’m sexy too.” It wasn’t a question.

Oh boy. Employee sexual harassment. Fuck.

“Caitlyn, I…”

“Well I think you’re sexy too,” she cut me off.

“I’m sorry I said that.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to lose my employee because of sexual harassment.”

“I’m not your employee here.”

“I’m sure the courts would understand that.”

“Doug, don’t be a jerk. You’re not sexually harassing me. ‘Give me a blow job and you get to keep your job,’ that would be sexual harassment.”

“Ah, just a little.”

“Well you’re not doing that are you?”

“No. I’m not. I would never do that. And I will never do that.” I said.

“It can work the other way around too.”

“How so?” I asked.

“If I said, ‘I’m not coming into work tomorrow unless you eat my pussy right now.'”

She was certainly not shy.

“But you’re not doing that are you.” I said rather than asked.

“No, I’m not.”

“Good.” I thought that was the end of it. We both reached for our wine glasses and took a sip.

“So will you do it?” she asked.

“Do what?”

“Eat my pussy.”

I nearly dropped my wine glass.

“Not if it’s sexual harassment I won’t.” I was relieved to have found a quick out.

She turned to me with a grin on her face.

“It won’t be.”

Did I just agree to eat her pussy?

“Caitlyn, how will you feel in the morning, in the shop?” I was hoping to backtrack.

She turned on the couch and wrapped her left hand around the back of my neck, leaned towards me and said, “Sexually satisfied I hope.” She was grinning at me.

I felt my cock twitch.

“Caitlyn, if we do this we can’t extend it into the shop.”

“You’re damn right we can’t. There you’re my boss. Here you’re the country squire with the roaring fire and fancy dinner.” She waved her hand over the spent chip bag.

I couldn’t keep the grin off my face.