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M – Part Twelve

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I enter the building that I fondly call “home”.  Indeed, after all the overtime spent at the office during the last five years, I’ve come to think that I actually live here, and that I rented a chalet (my apartment) only for the goodwill of Mireille and Fiou. I even considered making a change of address at the post office, but I was worried I would end up getting used to the 60-70 hours a week…  Anyway… So, I get “home” and climb the stairs to the second floor, making sure to sidestep the fish tank-like office where I have my cubicle, and go to the kitchen first. I need a little kick-start and the (disgusting) coffee from the cafeteria should do the trick. I am trying to choose between “Dark undrinkable Colombian” and  “Dishwater latté” when another pair of heels appears behind me

– Hey! Hello Maryse!!

Oh… cool… Fanny, I really need that!

– Hi Fanny, how are you?

Fanny is my boss’ secretary, and he obviously didn’t pick her for her medicine or nuclear physics’ degrees. Fanny, to sum her up, is a cascade of beautiful ginger hair, overlooking breasts even women can’t help peeking at, the tightest ass in town and two absolutely perfect legs… And to completely ruin every woman’s life in the building, destiny has decided that on top of being beautiful, elegant and sexy without being vulgar, *sigh* On top of having doe eyes and the talent to have a makeup worthy of any high fashion salon every morning (and I know for a fact that she does it naturally)…

Well, Fanny is an extremely likable person, with a big heart, a great sense of humour, and anyone who takes a few minutes to chat with her would agree that she is not a dummy. So if it wasn’t of the fact that I am scared stiff  that life would punish me in any kind of way (not being Fanny is already a punishment), I would hate her wholeheartedly.  But that’s how it is; no one can hate Fanny, and my feelings towards her resemble friendship/worst-jealousy-ever bipolarity.

So, today, I would have managed to go through a Fanny-less Tuesday. I can realize how dull and ordinary I am without having to face her annoying and blinding perfection.

– The girls told me you had your appointment at the women’s clinic today? Nice day to go downtown, lucky you! (I hate it when she says I’m lucky, no one is lucky next to Fanny) Oh! Did the new doc take care of you?

– Yeah.

I am not loquacious, well aware that I don’t need to be. Fanny knows how to fill a conversation. Not that she is the type to soliloquize, but she can get the job done on her own.

– Oh-My-God! (OMG! Tell me about it…) He is soooooooooooo cute!

Have I mentioned that Fanny is 25 years old, but she barely looks 18 when she gets excited about anyone from the male-kingdom? And of course, she has the first pick among the high class candidates…

I don’t quite follow what she is blabbing about, too concentrated on measuring the sugar and milk necessary to make my coffee drinkable, which has come to be known as a science here… Inexact science, that is, but essential. At this very moment, I need caffeine, not the summary of Fanny’s appointment in all details, telling me how she fell for him (Really girl?) the moment she met him, and that she went into hunting mode even if he was a bit old (Old?? Excuse me??)

Oh, the good old “hunting mode”… I know exactly what she means since I saw her hunting a few times at work.  It is a bit as if she had and “on/off” button that transforms in a snap of the fingers the (very) pretty young lady she is into a mesmerizing sex bomb. It is a real phenomenon, and I can imagine the National Geographic making a documentary about my young friend. Once aimed for, a man has close to no chance to resist her charms. It happened once or twice in the past, but she always comes to the same conclusion…

– I couldn’t believe it… NO reaction whatsoever!! I swear to God! I don’t understand, I could have much more seducing men with much less effort… (I highly doubt that!) One thing’s for sure, either he’s gay, either he’s taken!

There we go, I knew we’d get to it. Because the only flaw Fanny bears is that she seriously believes (and without any point of vanity, it is just plain natural for her) that no man can refuse her flirting. It is true that the almost Olympian attraction she creates on any heterosexual male is enough in itself to give her illusions, and the fact to face a rebuttal is an idea that eludes her completely, as if she was immune at birth…

I test my mixture… My coffee about drinkable, Gabriel has turned down Fanny, life is good!

– Sorry Fanny, I’m already late, we can catch up later when I take my pause if you want… Good afternoon!

She waves back and I promise myself to slip the fact that I could have gone for lunch with doctor Madsen in one of our conversations as soon as the chance presents itself. It is every skirt in the building’s fantasy to find themselves at least peeing on Fanny’s territory someday…  If I find a way to let her know I turned off (well not totally turned off… ) an offer from one of her defeats… Glory to me, in the realm of ordinary women!!!

Just before unlocking the office’s door with my magnetic card (yes, here I DO have one) I come across Daniel who’s picking up some documents at the photocopy machine. He doesn’t even have a chance to engage in small talk, I just throw at him;
– Skitsövel!

And I address him a semi caricatural smile while walking towards my desk. When I see his awed look, I understand that I aimed right. (thanks Gab!) I don’t put my arsenic flavored coffee idea on the back burner though, and I hope that the office coffee machine won’t kill him by itself before tomorrow…

I let myself fall on my chair after the usual greetings to my close coworkers. Is that even say-able? As in “close family”… Well, anyway, I indeed didn’t even say it anyway. I just thought about it. Ok, let’s get past that… still a lot to do before nine o’clock.

6 thoughts on “M – Part Twelve

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