So when we talked about moving forward, I didn’t acknowledge my feelings for him. Not the depth of them, anyway. I tried not even to consider that. Instead, I put a different wall between us: time. He was leaving in three weeks. We should make those weeks count without complicating it with anything resembling a real relationship. We would just have fun.
Fun, I could handle. At least, I couldtry. Nights spent together. Some outings here and there. Cuddling and affection and orgasms that I’d remember for the rest of my life. What was the worst that could happen?
A week later, as I sat in a BuzzCorp all-hands meeting, all I could think about was Hudson’s cock. I’d been doing that a lot lately, thinking about real dick at home when I should have been paying better attention to the artificial dicks I crafted in the workplace.
See, when I said I worried about my personal life distractingfrom my professional one,thiswas what I meant. Lusting across averycrowded boardroom at a man who’d already made me cum twice before breakfast.
I tried to school my thoughts. Back to the task at hand. We were now only two weeks out from OFest New York, the nationwide sex toy conference where we would launch The Fantasy—and where our fates would be decided.
Clara stood, calling the meeting to order without uttering a single word. She had a way of doing that, of commanding a room based on her presence alone.
“At the outset, I want to congratulate all of you. I put an impossible deadline before this team, and you all have risen to the occasion. I know you’re going to brief me on your respective timelines and outstanding projects, but I have monitored your progress through Scout’s weekly reports. What I’ve seen already has impressed me. I know that OFest is going to be a resounding success.”
A tiny set of creases developed around the edges of her eyes. Did sheactuallybelieve that with all her heart, I wondered, or was she just pep-talking us into believing she had confidence so we’d work harder not to let her down?
Weeks ago, I would have assumed the worst. That we were on the brink of disaster and she was manipulating us. Now? I chose to buy in.
Then Leelah perked up, looking at me from across the room and raising her voice so everyone could hear.
“And it’s all thanks to Scout.”
Not used to being interrupted, Clara balked. Then she quirked her head to the side and beamed. She didn’t often beam—it caused wrinkles and Botox was getting expensive these days, apparently—so her praise hit me even harder. “Yes, she has been an exceptional leader, hasn’t she? Disciplined, knowledgeable, and dedicated to The Fantasy. We’re glad to have you, Scout.”
The room broke out in applause. I ducked my head to hide my blush. The last time everyone had focused their attention on me, Lloyd Exeter had been telling Joe Rogan about our brief interlude.
Now, despite my fears and hesitations, I was getting praised. Somehow, I’d managed to make a friend, have amazing sex, delegate work to my colleagues without constantly hovering over their shoulders,andwin their approval. Clara’s, too.
What else could I manage, I wondered. Was Hudson right? Was I capable of more than I’d ever dreamed possible?
“Thanks, everyone,” I said, meaning it. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Once the applause died down, Clara took her seat. Back to business.
“Now. Shall we begin?”
The department heads wasted no time. While all of them were beneath me in the org chart, the various groups—software, manufacturing, QA, testing, marketing, and, of course, engineering—each contributed their own updates. The briefs were intensive, but promising—just like I knew they’d be. Everyone understood the importance of this product rollout.
However, once marketing piped up…
“We’re having some trouble,” Thomas, their lead, said with more than a little apprehension. “It’s an expensive piece of machinery. Hard to market, especiallybecauseit’s so groundbreaking. People may not understand what it does or how it could work for them since they have no point of reference for a toy like this. I mean, it’s not even a toy, really. It’s an all-encompassing sexual experience.”
“And then there’s the male problem,” someone mumbled.
The energy in the room shifted. For one thing, The Fantasy was a toy explicitly designed with the vagina-having user in mind, so penis-having people wouldn’t be able to use it in anycapacity, thus lowering our ability to market it to roughly half of the population. Second, though it wasalsobuilt so partners could program the toy’s maneuvers, some men might see it as a replacement. A threat to their sexual dominion over the bedroom.
“Yes, indeed,” Clara mused. “I am troubled by Mr. Ose’s recent comments—and about the rise in popularity of a brand like Lloyd Exeter’s. One more catered to the masculine toy-purchasing populace.”
“We shouldn’t be catering to cisgender men,” Addie snapped. From the side-eyes being exchanged, it was clear she and the marketing team had had this disagreement many times. “This isn’t about them. Not everything in the world can be about them.”
“I understand that perspective. I also understand that we can’t continue to prop up a business—especially one with so much on the line—by only appealing to people with vaginas.”
“We should be doing both,” Terrence said. He wasn’t on the marketing team, nor was he liaising with them like Addie. However, that was what this meeting was for. Brainstorming across departments. “What about testimonials? We can have men talk about what The Fantasy has done for their sex lives. We could even talk about our other products, pushing BuzzCorp as a company for all.”
Marketing considered this. I knew from their emails that testimonials hadnotbeen part of their plan. They’d been more focused on displaying the product and explaining how it worked, rather than selling the vibes (pun not intended). “That’s a good idea,” Thomas agreed. “What about the hype video that we’re going to play before Scout’s presentation at OFest? We could have a bunch of talking heads from our focus groups, people of all genders, describing their experiences with sex toys.”
Murmurs of agreement from all around the room. Then Hudson raised his hand.
“You don’t have to raise your hand,” Clara said.
