Since I know HR won’t do anything about it, I decide to ignore him. I take another step away and face the elevator, keeping my face blank. I refuse to give him any more of my time, emotion, or energy. I refuse to?—
“Ouch!” I jump because Donald Pugh just pinched my ass—hard.
I whirl to face him.
“You son of a bitch! Don’t ever touch me!”
Donald only laughs harder.
“Look at you! I knew that would get your attention.” He gives me an ugly grin. “God, I love a woman with a fat ass!”
“Get away from me!” I exclaim, taking another step to my right. “What is wrong with you? You’re a fifty-five-year-old man acting like a preschooler! You’re supposed to learn to keep your hands to yourself in kindergarten.”
“Fifty-five? You wound me, darlin’.” He puts a hand over his heart and makes puppy-dog eyes at me. “I’m only fifty-four. Just old enough to be your Daddy.” He gives a wolfish grin that makes my skin crawl.
“Get away from me!” I tell him. “If you don’t leave me alone I’ll?—”
“You’ll what?” He raises both eyebrows at me. “Go on—I’m listening. I know you ran and tattled to HR after the Christmas party. Guess what, girly—they don’t care.”
“Just leave me alone!” I repeat, feeling weak and impotent and hating the feeling.
“Look, honey, you ought to consider that you’re not gonna get a better offer,” he says, leaning close again and breathing out his rancid coffee and peanut breath all over my face. “I mean, let’s be honest—you’re getting older and you’re not exactly skinny. You’re lucky I’m not picky—lots of men wouldn’t even look at you. Why don’t you come have supper with me? Or better yet, let’s skip supper and go to my place and?—”
Just then the elevator finally reaches our floor. The silver doors slide open with a musical ding!
Donald steps inside and leers at me.
“Well? Aren’t you coming? We can have a little alone time together.”
There’s no way in Hell I’m getting into a closed elevator alone with him. Luckily, just at that moment, Steve from Data Processing comes jogging down the hall.
“Hey—hold the door!” he shouts.
Scowling, Donald does so. Steve slides into the elevator and I step in too. But just as the doors start to close, I slip back out again. I barely make it—my boobs are so big they nearly brush the doors and make them open back up. But I suck in a breath and make it—barely.
As I turn, I see the outraged look on Donald Pugh’s face as the silver doors shut and the elevator begins its downward ride.
I glare at the closed silver doors with hot eyes. Fuck you, Donald! Fuck you and every man like you who thinks he has a right to a woman’s body, just because he’s male! You misogynistic piece of shit!
At times like this I wish I could take a big pair of scissors and just reach between his legs and?—
The vibration of my cell phone in my purse interrupts my murderous thoughts. I fish around in my bag and pull it out. I’m glad to see my friend Tasha’s number pop up. She’s ten years older than me and always has good advice. But she also prefers to talk instead of texting.
Well, what the Hell—I press the button. Might as well talk for a minute—I need to give Donald Pugh some time to head out before I walk to my car, which is parked in the parking garage a block away.
“Hey Jules.” Her voice is warm as always. “How are you?”
“I’ve been better,” I admit.
She is instantly concerned.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
“Just that fucking Donald Pugh again.” I try to keep my voice from dipping to a growl and don’t quite succeed. Tasha knows all about the Christmas party and how HR just brushed me off.
“What did he do this time? Did he try to grab your ass again?” she demands indignantly.
“He pinched it.” I clench my phone so hard the black plastic casing bites into my hand. “Look, I don’t really want to talk about it right now. I’m still at work. Did you need something?”
