Survivor's Remorse

For the rest of the afternoon, they followed us around, always making sure we saw them as they mimicked everything we did.

We competed in some of the contests and events, since it was good for the company's morale to have the management level employees making a fool out of themselves too. So naturally Wendy and Rick entered every event that we did.

We beat them in the potato race. We beat them again in the three legged race. And despite the fact that Wendy tried to knock Saraya down, we beat them in the sack relay. But Saraya was pissed. Even after Wendy slammed into her, she shook it off and still managed to bounce across the finish line and hand me the sack so I was only a bounce or two behind the leader. I caught and passed him, bringing our total of wins to three out of three. I looked around for Saraya and couldn't find her.

I did hear a couple of really angry voices coming from behind a row of hedges though and went to investigate.

"Bitch, why don't you just leave before I call security and have you and that creepy guy you brought with you thrown out," hissed Saraya.

"Go ahead do it," said Wendy. "You can't afford to have me here, reminding him of what he lost. At this rate I'll have him back even sooner."

Saraya's laughter did something to me. It was so musical. I wanted to do anything I could to make her laugh so I could hear it again. But the two of them arguing at a company event was not a good thing.

"It must be terrible to be so stupid," hissed Saraya. "The only reason you're here with the guy from Phantasm is because you're trying to make him jealous. Wake up, Bitch. He's Mine now. I'm not sure you've noticed it yet, but he doesn't even care that you're here."

"Yeah but I'm making sure that he doesn't forget me," said Wendy. "And in his depressed state he doesn't react to very much, but he's getting better every day. And pretty soon his love for me will come back even stronger. We've had ten years together, bitch. And from what the people around here tell me, all you have is a little, office romance. The two of you haven't even been on a real date yet. You're just his little office pussy. You'll be left all alone when he comes to get me back. Real love beats cheap easy sex every time. Always remember, you may be young and cute, but he married ME, you whore."

It was all bullshit of course, but Saraya has a temper. Her brain also works at nearly the speed of light. So she took some of what Wendy was saying as possible or true.

Her fist shot out and she punched Wendy right in the face. It wasn't a girly punch or a slap. It was a quick, hard well delivered blow that blackened Wendy's eye and knocked her head back. The next thing I knew it was on. The two of them were rolling around on the grass and trying to kill each other. I ran over and tried to separate them and got scratched and kicked for my trouble.

Finally I managed to grab Saraya around her waist and pull her away, while one of the security guards, who wasn't working security at the picnic, pulled Wendy away.

"She hurt me, Vee," yelled Wendy. Her split lip and bloody nose made talking painful for her.

I ignored her. I brushed my fingers through Saraya's long beautiful hair arranging it back the way she'd had it. I moved over to a table and sat down, pulling Saraya down onto my knee.

"Are you okay?" I asked her.

"I would be if you kissed me again," she said in a little girl voice.

"Hold that thought," I told her. "No kisses until I take out the trash." I gestured for one of the guys we'd hired for security at the picnic. I told him to escort Wendy out of the area the company had reserved for our picnic.

Wendy refused to go. Two of the security guys each grabbed an arm and frog marched her kicking and screaming and spitting off of the picnic grounds. Rick followed along behind them.

The rest of the picnic was uneventful. A couple of days later Wendy left me a letter in my mailbox. She couldn't call me because I'd gotten both my home and cell numbers changed.

I never even bothered to open it; I just pitched it into the trash can next to my garage. There were more letters over the next few days. I never bothered to read any of them.

A few weeks later I got a phone call at work from Wendy's dad.

"Hey son," he said. "I really never expected to see anything like this happen. The two of you loved each other so much. You know it's not too late to stop this. The divorce isn't final yet. I'm pretty sure if you called Wendy and told her to bring her ass home; she'd be there before you put the phone down."

"It's not going to happen, Dad," I said. "There's no going back for us."

"Vee there has to be some small amount of love left for her in your heart," he said.

"Of course there is," I said. "And there always will be."

"Then maybe you can help me to stop her from making a terrible mistake," he said. "You know she moved into an apartment with that idiot she cheated on you with, don't you?"

"It's no skin off my ass," I said.

"Well did you know that he's only using her? And she's only using him. She's trying to make you jealous. She's announced to everyone that as soon as your divorce is final she's going to marry him. And he figures that he can use some of the money she gets in your settlement to help with his alimony and child support payments. His wife is taking so much of his income that he literally had to move in with Wendy just to have a place to stay," he said.

"Wow that's rough," I said wishing he could see my smile through the phone. "That's a match made in hell."

"I'm supposed to be calling to invite you to the wedding," he said. "I'm also supposed to tell you that you have to come alone. You are not allowed to bring your new girlfriend."

"Tell Wendy that I'm busy that day, but I'll send a gift," I said.

"But I didn't tell you the date of the Wedding yet," he said.

"It doesn't matter," I laughed. "I'm busy whenever it is."

I was laughing my ass off. The fact that Wendy was trying so hard to make me jealous just seemed funny to me. Even though our divorce had yet to become final, my marriage to Wendy seemed like something out of the distant past.

I was certain that Saraya was my future, but over the next few days it became obvious, to me if to no one else, that I was counting my chickens before they hatched.

"So Mister Dallbinger," crooned Saraya to me one afternoon. "Would you like to have dinner with one of your colleagues this evening?"

"Hm," I replied, as if I was giving it some thought. "I guess it depends on which colleague it is." I looked across the room and saw Wanda Barbie, one of our secretaries. Wanda was short, chunky and cute. She had a husband and five kids at home.

"I'd definitely have dinner with Wanda," I said.

"And if you did, Wanda's giant husband and I would have to draw straws to see which one of us kicked your ass. Try again."

I pretended to look around the room again. "How about Kerri?" I said pointing to one of our interns. Kerri was in her last year of college and played on the volley ball team. She was tall, blond and willowy, with pert but spectacular boobs and a smile that could start wars.

"Next time you look at that little whore, I'll fire her," she said. "You need to stay away from her. You have no idea what kind of diseases she's carrying. That girl has been laid by more different guys this semester than I have in my entire life and I'm eight years older than she is. And if she comes after you, I'll fuck her up."

"Fighting on the premises is grounds for immediate termination, Ms. Whittaker," I said.

"It would be worth it to protect what's mine," she said.

I absolutely felt that when she said it. I got that dizzy feeling in the pit of my stomach and my chest stuck out at least another inch.

"Well Ms. Whittaker, I'm flummoxed. I simply cannot think of another available colleague to have dinner with."

"Well ... Surprisingly, I find that MY schedule is open this evening," she said, batting her eyes.

"But I simply would not presume to intrude on your private after work time Ms. Whittaker." I said.

"Oh for crying out loud. Can the two of you figure out where you're going for dinner tonight so we can all get back to work!" said my new secretary Agnes. She slammed some papers down on Saraya's desk, between us.

"And I'm suing you two if I'm pregnant," she hissed.

Saraya and I looked at each other and then her eyes landed on Agnes.

"I never touched him," said Agnes. "It's my husband Dummy. He was so turned on by seeing the two of you at the picnic last week especially that kiss. Everyone is still talking about it. Saraya it looked like your tongue was so far down his throat that you scraped his bowels. My husband was so horny that he fucked me in the back seat of our car on our way home. We haven't done that since we were in college, twenty three years ago. The pill messes up my cycle, so we normally use condoms. We have tons of them in our house, but none in the car. So if I'm pregnant, you two are in trouble. I was done having kids ten years ago." She was still grumbling as she walked out of the office.

"Mr. Dallbinger, I barely remember the kiss she was referring to," she said. "But obviously it is having an effect on employee morale. I propose that we adjourn to that tiny closet in your office and take a five minute break to investigate this alleged kiss, forthwith."

We timed the five minutes but it still seemed to pass by in seconds. But the kiss was not the same. It was even hotter. My dick hadn't been used since my revenge hook up with Janice, but it was letting me know that it was ready for action. I was sure that Saraya knew it too.

When we came out of the closet, her nipples were so prominent that it was hard to believe she was wearing a bra.

After our closet session, I went back to work on my latest project. It was our habit to have small impromptu meetings to give everyone a small bit of praise for what they did that day. We also used the time to give out new assignments check on the progress of jobs that were near their deadlines. We usually had those quick five minute meetings at the end of the day and shortly after ten the next morning.

We usually had the meetings in anyone's office that was convenient or in the common areas. That afternoon we had the meeting in Saraya's office. Something else that was unusual was that she stayed behind her desk. Neither Saraya nor I believed in hiding behind a desk. It was important for us to act and to interact if we were simply a part of the team.

She glared at me after the meeting and threw a balled up piece of paper at me.

"You idiot," she crooned. Then her eyes got huge. I turned to see her dad, my boss walking down the hall towards her office.

"Ms. Whittaker, you have an interesting way of interacting with your boss," he smirked. "Hello Vee."

"Daddy, you have no idea about the degree of agony this man put me through. It borders on abuse," said Saraya. "Besides, all this time I thought I was the boss. I mean ... I do have Uncle Frank's office."

"I gave you the glass box so I could keep an eye on you," I said.

"You mean so you could stare at me," she quipped.

"Uhm whichever one of you is the boss is something you two can work out later. I need you two to do something," he said.

"At the beginning of next year we're going to expand operations somewhat. Besides our design and prototyping operations we're going to offer QC services and a small part run production service for some of the parts we design. I intend to put both of those operations under the engineering umbrella. So the chunk of the company that the two of you are in charge of is going to grow. In fact it may triple in size.

I'll also need your help in setting it all up.

"No sweat Dad," said Saraya. "We've got this." She turned to me and in a voice that we both knew her dad could hear said, "Vee, do we have any idea how to do any of the stuff he's talking about?"

Her dad and I both laughed.

"I'll need some time to put together a plan and give you some real world numbers. If you don't mind, while I'm doing that, my associate Ms. Whittaker is going to conduct a survey among our current clients and a selection of businesses in our region who offer similar products. I want to find out how many of our current clients are interested in what we're proposing to offer. I would also like to suggest that we consider buying a couple of trucks as well," I said.

"Why do we need trucks?" he asked.

"For the manufacturing part," I said. "Having our own trucks would enable us to guarantee delivery on time. The money we would save over conventional shipping, especially for metal parts and prototypes which generally charge by weight, would quickly pay for the trucks and turn a profit."

"Add that to your proposal. And since you're going to have to present it to the board, make sure to have some numbers. You might also ask your associate, Ms. Whittaker to add a few questions about shipping to her survey," he said.

"Ms. Whittaker added those questions ten minutes ago," smirked Saraya.

Her dad shook his head. "I'm proud of both of you," he said. "Okay, I'm going home. You two can go back to throwing paper at each other."

As soon as her Dad was back in the elevator, Saraya was back to attacking me.

"So why'd we have the staff meeting in your office?" I asked. "And why were you sitting behind your desk, LIKE A BOSS?"

"That was your fault, you idiot!" she said. "When I came out of the closet my nipples were standing up like erasers. My panties were so wet that I had to take them off. A lot of women and some men can smell that. It's like I was in heat. And I was not going to sit on the edge of a desk and risk flashing my pussy at anyone in this skirt."

"Wait a minute, it was your idea to go into the closet," I told her.

"It doesn't matter whose idea it was," she said. "We're a team. It therefore can't have been my idea, because there's no "I" in team."

I laughed and took her hand. "How about Texas Roadhouse, Ms. Whittaker?"

"If you're there, it's my favorite restaurant, Mr. Dallbinger," she said. "Holy Shit!" she exclaimed suddenly. "We didn't ask my Dad how much of a raise we're going to get. And if we're going to be in charge of multiple departments, we're going to have to train people to take over our positions once the new operations are up and running. I'd rather reward our people's loyalty by moving them up the ladder with us."

Although neither of us had actually uttered the "L" word yet, we'd skirted around it in those high school ways. Her pronouncement earlier that I was "hers" was an example of this. So as we drove to the restaurant in our own cars, what happened next was the furthest thing from my thoughts.

As I drove to the restaurant, she got ahead of me. But then she always did. Saraya just drove fast. It was ingrained in her DNA. But imagine my surprise when a guy in a souped up Honda pulled up next to her. She rolled down her window and they exchanged words. When the light turned green, they were gone. The turn they took was not on the path to the restaurant and they were driving so fast that I had no idea where they'd gone.

Suddenly, I was pissed. There was simply no other way to explain it. For the past month or so I had been feeling more and more. I thought that I was feeling love for Saraya, but I wasn't sure. It was ironic that the first full blown emotion I would feel turned out to be anger.

I had no way of knowing where she was or what she was doing. For all I know, he could have beaten her. She told me that guys who wanted to date her had to beat her in a race. Who the fuck came up with that idea?

And what did a "date" entail? Did she not consider what we did dating? Shit, hookers called fucking their Johns dating. It suddenly dawned on me that she probably expected me to just drive to the restaurant and wait for her. Wait for her like I was her bitch. It wasn't going to happen. I changed lanes, took the next corner and drove home.

I nuked some leftovers that I pulled from my fridge and sat down in front of my TV. About twenty minutes later my cell phone rang. Twenty minutes. Unless she was talking about NASCAR, no race took that fucking long. And certainly no street race did. It was also twenty minutes after I had gotten home. So the actual time had to be at least thirty minutes.

It wasn't long enough for any kind of "date," that I could think of ... Except for the hooker's kind of dating. The phone rang again and I ignored it again. I went outside and pulled my Jeep into my garage. Since I usually parked it in the driveway, anyone who knew me would think that I wasn't home. I turned off all of the lights in the house and sat in my bed playing games on my iPad.

After another thirty minutes and two more phone calls, I heard the sound of her Camaro pull up in front of my house. She turned off her engine and sat there for a while during which time she called me a couple of more times.

While I watched her from a slit between the panels of my drapes, my anger grew out of control. I had all kinds of really bad thoughts about her. She was lucky that she'd taken her panties off after kissing me. That way they couldn't slow her down. I had obviously gotten her ready for the guy in the Honda. I suddenly realized that I was being stupid and jealous with no right and no reason.

Although I'd been ready to lay down my heart for Saraya, she'd never said anything like that to me. Calling me hers was probably just another of her flirty habits. I was doing what my therapist called transference. I was projecting my emotions onto her. I was behaving as if the fact that I loved her and wanted a future with her meant that she felt the same way. My marriage to Wendy should have taught me that things didn't always work that way.

And then it hit me. I was such a fool. Why would Saraya suddenly leave me to go off racing and doing whatever else she'd done and expect me to just sit there in the restaurant with my dick in my hands waiting for her? It was obvious. We had never called what we did dating. Saraya would only date someone who'd beaten her in a race. WE weren't dating. I was in the "friend" zone. Next she'd be calling me to tell me about her dates like I was one of her fucking girlfriends.

Fuck Saraya Whittaker. I didn't need her.

The next morning, I got to work right on time. Normally, I got there early to have breakfast with Saraya. I went right into my office and started on my latest project. I decided to spend half of my time on the project and the rest working on my proposal.

Before I got started fully, my door opened. Saraya stood there, and she looked lost. She looked like I felt.

"What happened to you last night?" she asked.

"I went to the restaurant and waited around for you," I said. "I got worried about you and it triggered a panic attack. I went to take one of my AD pills and realized that I was out of them. I rushed out to find an all night pharmacy to refill my prescription. I had to wait over an hour for them to try to contact my doctor and then actually give me the pills. It sucked."

"I called you over and over," she said. "If you'd answered your phone, I could've waited with you. We always have fun when we're together."

"Somehow, I lost my phone," I said. "I didn't notice it until I got home. I'm going to retrace my steps today and try to find it. If not I'll have to get another one. Luckily it's an iPhone. All of my stuff is backed up to my computer at home. I can just plug the new one in and pick up where I left off."

"What about breakfast?" she asked.

"I overslept. The pills sap all of my energy. I barely made it here on time," I said.