IT was early evening on Friday two weeks later when Francine Drakus strolled through the door of Jim’s corner office, imitating a streetwalker approaching a John. Her perfume permeated the air around her like a scented rose garden in the summer sun. He looked up and smiled at her. She reached out and ran her fingers through the hair on the back of his head.
“Is this a special perfume?” he asked, knowing precisely why she wore the brand.
“Could be,” Francine whispered as she continued to stroke his hair. “Jim, you should save your computer work more often than you do. Here, let me help.” She leaned from the waist across Jim’s keyboard and clicked the save icon. “There, much better, isn’t it?”
Jim peered past the open top three buttons on her blouse.
“Oh, to snuggle up between them, but it will have to wait until a little later,” Jim whispered. His hand reached out to touch her, but he summoned it back through force of will.
Several people on the lab floor noted their brief exchange. Most averted their eyes in quiet support of their own affairs with co-workers. Martha was not so shy.
“So what’s the story with Jim and Francine?” she asked a nearby engineer.
“Everyone in the lab knows that they are occasional lovers.”
“Yeah, but she’s the Associate Director under him. Isn’t there a corporate rule about becoming too familiar with a direct report? Coercion, or conflict of interest, or something. Can’t they get into trouble?”
“Sure, at least technically they can. Who will tell, though? No one would snitch on them. Besides, who doesn’t hook up with a coworker once in a while? We spend a lot of time working together and have tons of deadlines to meet. It’s only natural to relieve the tension so we can get back to thinking. No big deal.”
“But where…?” The engineer cut Martha’s question short with his curt answer.
“On the couch, mostly. We all use it.”
Martha’s brow wrinkled in disgust. “Ewwww! I sit on that couch!”
After a few moments, Martha shrugged her shoulders in silent resignation. “Well, I’m too engrossed in my work to worry about office romances that don’t concern either myself or Gabriella. Damn, it’s a lot like growing up at home watching mom and dad’s ‘special friends’ come and go.”
“Your folks had an open marriage?” asked the engineer.
“You know how it is around Berkley,” Martha answered matter-of-factly.
***
The lab was empty for the day. “Let’s hang around after work tonight and relax for a change,” Francine whispered.
Jim grinned as he let his eyes roam over her shape. She was attractive but not beautiful. Her nose was marginally more aquiline than the average woman’s. Long black hair and dark almond eyes kept a persons’ gaze away from her somewhat thicker hips. Her appeal was based on some undefinable quality, which gave a man the general feeling this was a woman who appreciated the sensual side of life. A wife would feel safe with her husband working alongside Francine. A husband would know he was not.
“What a delight you are. Love that perfume,” Jim mumbled as they snuggled.
“It’s similar to Joy.” Francine sighed as they caressed. “Jasmine and roses, as if you actually cared. Like it?”
“A whiff and I want to stroll through your well-groomed flower bed.”
“You have the key to the garden gate, Jimmy.”
“Gardens are beautiful things,” he whispered, becoming intoxicated by the heady scent of the perfume and the faint, sweet smell of Francine’s warm skin. He drew her closer and buried his face into her.
Gabriella looked on.
Curious. They seem to enjoy having sex with each other. There must be significant amounts of dopamine and oxytocin released into their brains. I’d like to try it myself to see if it does anything for my systems.
If Gabriella stood motionless in the lab’s corner at day’s end, a casual observer would get the impression she was deactivated for the night. Jim and Francine knew she never powered down. They continued on their pleasure cruise. Gabriella watched with interest and learned.