As I raced to the office, an entirely unsurprising text thread chirped through my car's phone-sync.
From: Greg -- "Everything, ok? I have not seen you in the office yet this morning. Just making sure all guests got home ok last night."
Cheeky, I thought.
I paused wondering what discussing this out loud with my car would do to my targeted ads, or whatever my car is doing with the data it collects from eavesdropping on me.
I pressed the button on my steering wheel for a voice-to-text response.
Response to Greg: "Don't play coy. You know you sent me home to my husband dazed, drunk and sore all over."
Car: Send?
Another text alert came in.
From Greg -- "Work stuff aside, I came in early and left something in your desk you left behind."
Wait, what? Those texts were showing up as separate threads. My blood ran cold. I very carefully touched "Cancel" on the voice-to-text, realizing Greg was not being cheeky in his first text. That was a work phone text and I almost responded in a way that would give some IT or HR person something to follow-up on this morning.
Thus far I thought only one phone could be connected to my car at time. There seems to have been a software update. I resolved to have my car forget one of these phones.
Another text alert.
From Tom -- "Is some light sexting with your husband ok? Wondering if you wouldn't mind sharing your recent "content" with me. I can't get those images out of my head. You're amazingly sexy."
Ugh. Definitely disconnecting my personal phone. I can't have this stuff popping up on my car screen, or worse being read to me by my car. I could never have another passenger in this vehicle again.
All this banter with the men in my life would just have to wait a few more minutes so I could get to my desk and properly organize my work/sex life balance.
...
I did not wait quite that long. Once I was parked at work with my devices safely disconnected from it, I caught up on texting.
To Greg (Work): Thank you for asking. Made it home safely. You are a great host. Car trouble. Walking to the building now.
To Greg (Personal): I wonder what that could be? BTW, my legs were quite chilly on the drive home last night.
To Tom: No pics (for now) and keep it in your pants, hubby. I want you absolutely begging for me by the time I'm ready. Use your imagination if you must but keep your hands off yourself.
There, done. Can I please get some actual work done now?
The narrowly avoided texting error in the car put me in a mood about checking messages. I was pointedly ignoring the series of dings from my two phones all morning. It was probably healthy that Tom was trying to flirt with me more. However, flirty texts at work was what started this whole thing with Greg and I was certainly ignoring his texts this morning. It was part of the strategy Tom and I discussed this morning, to establish clear boundaries around my professional life. Limiting my availability to a look (if you must) but don't touch (or text) policy at work. That was the thought behind the attire too, form fitting but not revealing. The intentional fashion faux pas of a red bra showing through my light-colored blouse, intended as a subtle signal that I was not completely icing Greg out.
At any rate, it turned out ignoring my phones worked wonders for my focus and getting actual work done at work. I was engaged in the morning meeting, which I barely made it to the office on-time for. I helped the institution correct some potentially costly missteps in our strategic plan for the coming year. That earned me some nods of approval not only from my boss, but my boss's boss and their boss. At my desk I made epic progress on my latest publication, as well as some background research. It was barely approaching midday and I had accomplished more this morning than I had over the last couple of weeks. Admittedly, those were holiday weeks, but still.
The morning was so productive that it was a welcome diversion when Sammie slipped into my office and took a seat. She is so lovely. Her brown skin is so smooth and flawless, it glows. Sure, she is ten years younger than myself, but she could pass for ten years younger still. I could be jealous. My porcelain European complexion feels like it is starting to show cracks in my forties. I also loved the lively bounce of the tight rings in Sammie's off-the-shoulder length brown hair. My wispy straight blond hair could never hold a curl for more than five minutes, no matter what I did to it. But Sammie was a rock star at work. In her thirties, she was a brilliant researcher and I never missed a chance to collaborate with her. She was becoming a good friend as well. She was smart, lighthearted and non-judgmental. Also, who does not love the ring of a spritely British accent? That we had both moved to the area in the last few years, was an early common ground which we built on.
"So, you were a touch late this morning," she started conspiratorially. "But you look put together."
She looked over her shoulders in either direction to make sure the coast was clear. "Did you have to race home this morning to get changed and then get to the office?" Her eyes and smile were full of supportive joy.
"No, I slept in my own bed last night," I replied.
Sammie sat back in her chair. "Pity. I thought for sure you would wind up..." Another check over her shoulders and leaning back, "... in Greg's."
I smirked. "We never did make it to his bedroom."
Sammie's face lit up. "But you did..." she was nodding to implicate her meaning without saying it out loud.
I nodded enthusiastically, my grin growing to a closed smile. I was growing to trust Sammie and liked her as a friend. I needed to let someone in and talk. I was glad it was going to be Sammie.
"And then you went home?" She pursed her lips in a silent whistle. "So why were you late this morning? Just sleep in?"
"My husband kept me up," I added vaguely but suggestively.
"No!" she exclaimed in a voice that intended to sound like a whisper but was much too loud. "You had sex with two men in the same night...separately?"
"Shh!" I returned, with my hands gesturing to keep it down. My eyes searched over her shoulders to see if anyone was within earshot. Usually, the glass wall of my office felt like it was precluding me from having visual privacy, but right now it was good for making sure there were no eavesdroppers, provided they were not immediately to either side of my field of vision.
"Well, it certainly was not all at the same time," I chided.
"Anything is possible these days, girlfriend," she countered.
As if to prove my concern about unseen people approaching my office...
"Hey, Doctor N!" Dwayne, the building's mail carrier rounded the corner into my office door with a boisterous greeting.
Sammie was about to say something more but cut herself off and leaned back in her chair again, pursing her lips and hiding a smile.
