I turned the corner cautiously
into the kitchen at work,
hoping for emptiness.
I just wanted a quiet sanctuary,
away from the gossip agenda.
Much to my surprise, I found out
I'm fucking the secretary.
"That's odd," I think to myself.
"I don't recall that."
In struts Justin, the bastard from accounting.
"So, how'd you get that play?"
A devilish smile crawls onto his face
"Fuck you, man."
I walk to the breakroom.
Kaylie's there in a pencil skirt that could
be mistaken for skin and a sheer shirt
over a lacy bra that pushes up her tits
so much you'd swear she was suffocating.
She raises an eyebrow and I assume that's
a greeting.
But she speaks as well,
"Hello, asshole."
I gulp cold coffee down.
This talk is usual and never goes below two feet deep.
"Hello... what is it today? Slut?"
"Very funny. I heard you're fucking the whore up front."
"Yeah, well, talk is cheap, ain't it? Besides, I heard you're blowing Troy."
"What? Where did you--"
"Relax, red light. I don't give a damn if he's fucking you on his head. Just make sure I don't walk in on the fun, alright?"
"You think you're such a smooth operator, don't you? You know, you could write the book on being an asshole."
"Well, thanks for having faith, but you've got it wrong. I'm a smooth talker. And it would be a 10-step pamphlet. I don't have the integrity or patience to write a book."
"Fuck you. When I'm a Washington big shot and you're a washed up asshole with a camera, we'll see who's laughing."
"When you're a Washington big shot, I'll set myself on fire and jump ship out of this goddamned country, screaming "Kaylie the Cumbucket!" on the free fall down like the lunatic I am."
She grins, "sometimes I think you've lost your mind."
"Sometimes, red light, I know I have."