by Randy Reynolds
The furniture man was idling at the credit desk in the middle of his store. Sherry, the radio station sales representative, said, “Hey, Mr. Bruce.
Sorry I’m late.”
“Not the words a man ever wants to hear,” said
Bruce, leering.
The woman at the credit desk
giggled.
Sherry frowned, determined not
to give him the satisfaction of acting like she’d caught his meaning. “What did
I say?”
“Never mind. Just wait for me in my office.”
“Let’s just run the same thing as last month,
Mr. Bruce.”
“Wait for me. I’ve got something to discuss
with you.”
She knew what he wanted to
discuss; same as always—anything that made her blush. She blushed easily and he liked it so much he was a double-entendre machine in her presence.
“I don’t have time today," she said. "Can we just
take the details from your newspaper ad and write a commercial from that?”
“My office,” he said. “I’m in the middle of something here.”
She went into his private office
and settled into the chair farthest from the door, the best place to
avoid having him "accidentally" touch her hair or shoulder when he walked by.
She watched Bruce give some instructions to one of his warehouse guys who said "I'll get right on it, boss."
Bruce hurried into the small
office, closed the door and pulled the shade.
“Can’t we just run what’s in
your newspaper ad?” asked Sherry.
He smoothed his blonde mustache
with a thumb and forefinger, slid onto the desktop, as close to her as possible
and allowed his foot to touch her leg.
She repositioned herself to break contact.
He wasn't smiling. “How bad do you need a sale today, Sherry?”
“Not bad enough for what you
have in mind, Mr. Bruce.”
“How do you know what I have in
mind?”
“It’s the same thing you always
have in mind,” she said. “And the
answer’s the same as always.”
“You and I could make beautiful
music together,” he said.
“Oh, God, Mr. Bruce, is that the
best line you’ve got?”
He chuckled. “I’ve got a few more. How about I spend my whole ad budget with
you? How grateful would you be?”
“Not as grateful as you might
like,” she said. “Now, come on, I’m in
a hurry. I don’t have half an hour to
spar with you today…”
“Why don’t I lock this door and
you sit up here on this desk?”
No sooner were the words out of
his mouth than the door swung open and a middle-aged woman with big hair poked her head in
and said, “Are you gonna be long, honey?”
He snapped to attention and
said, “Jeanette, this is Sherry, from the radio station.”
“Hi, Sherry,” said the woman in
the doorway.
“Sherry, this is my wife,
Jeanette,” he said in a strained voice.
“Pleased to meet you,” said Sherry.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” said
the wife. “How long are you going to
be, sweetie?”
His face was flushed. “Oh, we were just finishing up.”
Sherry said, “I’ll have one of
the guys cut a spot using your specials from the newspaper ad. He’ll call you for
approval. And we’ll double the schedule
you ran last month. Right?”
“Oh, uh, right,” he said, edging
away from her.
Sherry gathered up her things
and smiled at the wife. “It was so nice
to meet you at last, Jeanette. Mr. Bruce talks about you so much I feel like I know you already. ”
Jeanette smiled politely. “Really?”
"Oh, yes. You know what? You and I ought to have coffee together sometime!"
"Let's do that sometime," said Jeanette.
Sherry smiled her sweetest smile. “See you next month, Mr. Bruce."
His face was red.
Ba-yam! she
thought as she walked away. I love it when the wifey comes in!
