Tension tightens my muscles as I turn slowly, meeting his gaze. I wish now I hadn’t chosen a spot in the back.
He leans against the wall.
“We were just discussing the retrospective, sir,” Taylor stammers, clearly thrown off by his presence.
“Do continue,” he orders, his eyes latching onto mine for an unsettling moment before he diverts his attention to the terrified team at the front. “I’m interested to hear about the team’s challenges.”
Whirling back around, I try to focus on Taylor, nerves buzzing. Now I’m on high alert, acutely aware of every inch of space between us. If I took one step back, we’d practically be spooning. His breath would be on my skin.
I’m supposed to be listening intently to hit the ground running, but all I can think about is how if I moved my hand back, I’d be touching Mr. Wolfe’s dick.
Ever since he growled out a threat to fire me on the spot, I’ve fantasized about what it would sound like when he comes. I bet it’s primal and fierce. In my most secret fantasies (which I would never admit to anyone), Wolfe commands everyone to leave the office, then gives me a spanking for drawing that wolf caricature before delivering a proper punishment with his big angry cock.
The guy hates me and my mind goesthere?
While Taylor finds her voice again my ears flame. They reveal all my dirty thoughts. I bet he’s staring at them wondering what health issue is causing them to glow so.
He’s really invested in this project if he’s come to listen in on this. We have retrospectives every fortnight, low-level, nitty-gritty discussions.
On rare occasions, board members will sit in on some meetings to show us that they’re apparently one of us, especially when we’re pulling twelve-hour days to meet a deadline.
But the difference between us, the minions, and them, the Rolexed-up Suits, is a few billion dollars, give or take. They don’t have to lift a finger except to pat us on the head to tell us we’re doing a good job.
As Taylor circles the room for updates, I’m startled when she lands on me. “Do you have anything to say, Lucy? Anything that you’d like to contribute? I don’t want you feeling left out.”
Is that a joke?
I eye her skeptically. We’re supposed to say what went well and what didn’t go so well since the last meeting.
Let’s see. Went well: lovely view of the Empire State Building from my hospital window. Slept in every day.
Not well: fell down stairs, brain turned to mush, I was doped up for an entire week, found out that my neighbor is a blow-up sex doll, I have a roomie named after an arachnid, oh, and this one time in the hospital, I nearly shit myself when I didn’t get out of bed on time.
“No, Taylor. Nothing to add.”
It’s Matty’s turn.
“What’s the status of the new barcode design?” Taylor inquires, crossing her arms.
He doesn’t respond. He’s asleep with his eyes open.
Taylor snaps her fingers in his direction and I jab my finger into his back.
He pushes himself off the wall, shaking himself out of his stupor. “Oh, uh… we have our third user experience session tomorrow with Lucy’s new designs. We’re down to two possibilities that we’re testing.”
“We have to release it in seven days.” Taylor’s lips thin out and her eyes narrow to slits. “Seven days.”
“Can we push it back?” Matty asks, a hint of panic in his voice. “Luce could do with a bit more time to play catch-up.”
She turns her attention to me, hiding her annoyance with a smile. “If you could jog your memory by Tuesday, that would be perfect, Lucy.”
Again, is that a joke? What happened to the sisterhood of women-in-IT, Taylor?
My brows knit together. “Let me just upgrade my brain RAM then. Maybe that’ll help.”
Laughter ripples through the room, probably at me rather than with me.
Cringing, I sink further against the wall. That’s got to be the geekiest IT joke I’ve ever managed to drop.
