I can't believe it! I am totally qualified for this job. You can't refuse to hire me for such a stupid reason!"
The young woman's angry voice snapped Will out of the computer design program in which he had been working. He looked up.
She was standing outside Jake's office, a beautiful blonde creature who was regarding Jake with pure disgust.
Jake, the hiring director, stood in his doorframe, with his arms folded across his chest. "Yeah, you're qualified, as far as skills go. But we don't need any more smokers on the company payroll. We'll be in touch."
"Whether I smoke or not is my own decision," said the woman. "I need this job and you'll get your money's worth out of me."
"If you quit, we'll hire you," said Jake, leering at her.
She swiveled on her heel and said some unprintable word.
Will felt his blood boiling. What an idiot Jake was! This office could use all the help it could get right now. And what was the man's beef with smoking, anyway? It wasn't allowed in the office, so who cared?
Will looked over at Gloria, the tall, Hispanic beauty who had somehow evaded Jake's dragnet and come aboard the company six months ago. She was an angel, sweet as sugar to customers even when they had come in on a rampage. She was brilliant -- spoke English beautifully and had mastered the office computers as if she'd been born to them. And she was a confirmed smoker. Every hour on the hour, she stepped outside for exactly five minutes to smoke a cigarette -- then worked an extra forty minutes in the afternoon to make it up.
Jake hated Gloria. Jake was a rather stupid man.
Gloria was at this moment shaking her pretty head. "That girl has a degree from Princeton. I could use her help in here."
"I know," chimed in Linda from the next cubicle. Linda was a lovely little blonde who had worked here forever, and also smoked, when Gloria could convince her to slip outside.
"I don't see people working," said Jake, glaring at them.
"Screw you," said Gloria, slowly and with pleasurable articulation.
Jake scowled at her. "I ought to write you up, you damn wetb --"
"Don't you even say that or I'll have the Equal Opportunity Office on your sorry butt so fast you won't have time to wipe it clean," Gloria hissed. Then she smiled. Sweetly. And went back to work.
Will clenched his fists. He loved his work. Loved Gloria and Linda. This place could hit the Fortune 500 if Jake wasn't dragging it down.
The clock on the wall clicked the hour. Gloria stood up. "Come on, Linda. I want a cigarette. You could use one, too."
Linda looked at Jake, who gave her a hateful look.
"It's coming out of your pay," he said.
Will found himself doing a strange thing: standing up.
"You don't smoke, you idiot," Jake said.
"Maybe I do, maybe I don't," said Will. "I'm entitled to a coffee break now and then."
Gloria grinned. "It will be nice to have some company."
They pushed past Jake, who hissed at them like an angry cat.
Jake had never been to the smoker's gazebo before, a flimsy wooden structure behind the building. In winter, he thought, it must be a horrible place to hang out. But today, the weather was warm and calm.
He felt a hand touch his: Gloria's. She grinned and blew him a kiss. Then took Linda's hand with her other and began to skip as they walked to the gazebo.
Lord, she was something!
The little building trembled as they stepped inside. Gloria's dark and slender fingers were already cupped around her cigarette, flicking her lighter flame to life. She patted the wooden bench beside her and smiled flirtatiously. Will sat down. Linda sat on the other side and lit herself a cigarette.
Gloria inhaled, a deep, deep drag, then exhaled noisily. Her thick stream of smoke spilled across Will's face and he breathed it in like perfume: sweet, strong, heady. She smiled at him, inhaled again, then deliberately exhaled in his face.
"Mind if I smoke?" She giggled.
"You're a good boy, Will," she said. "Wish you ran this place."
"Hear, hear," said Linda, sipping daintily from her long all-white, then opening her lips to puff out smoke rings. "Hey, look over there. It's whats-her-name."
Will saw the young woman whom Jake had rejected standing by the curb, dabbing angrily at her eyes.
"Hey, sweetie, come here," called Gloria. The woman looked up. Gloria smiled. The woman came over, somewhat warily.
"I'm sorry about Jake," said Gloria. "Maybe he'll die of e. coli next week or something. In the meantime, have a cigarette with us."
The woman smiled and stepped inside the gazebo, which was now wonderfully crowded, facing Will. She took a light gratefully from Gloria, inhaled hungrily, then tipped her head up to exhale away from him.
"No, silly, Will's not a prick. He doesn't mind smoke. I think he likes smoke," said Gloria, taking a deep puff and exhaling in his face like the smoke belonged there.
"Like this," said Linda, getting into the act. Maybe it was the nicotine. She leaned towards poor Will and delicately shrouded him in smoke.
The new woman smiled, shyly, blew a faint puff somewhere in Will's direction.
"That sucked," said Gloria. With comic exaggeration, she swallowed a lungful of cigarette smoke, held it in for at least two seconds, then sprayed it across Will's beleaguered, blissful face.
The woman was giggling now. "You're nuts." She inhaled again, blew out a thicker stream this time.
"Five minutes up. Party's over," said Gloria, suddenly. She dropped her cigarette on the wooden floor of the gazebo and stepped on it with the edge of her heel. Linda flicked hers away into the grass. The new woman looked at her own half-smoked cigarette. "Guess I can stay out here for a while. I'm not exactly hired."
"Don't give up yet," said Gloria. "I pissed in Jake's soup thermos this morning. He'll be feeling poorly soon enough."
"You did what?" the girl said.
"Watered his lunch," said Gloria, not breaking her smile. "I've been doing it every day for a week now, in the morning. He keeps it in the breakroom fridge, unsupervised. He's a sturdy bastard but his salt level will be through the roof here soon enough."
Will knew Gloria. Knew she was dead serious. Knew he never wanted to cross this woman.
They all laughed. Then Gloria shooed them all, minus the almost-hire, back inside, giving Will a playful smack on the rump as they went in.
Will was deep in his work again when a heavy hand touched his shoulder. He looked up into the grave face of Kenny Hudgins, the rarely-seen millionaire who owned their company. Will jumped, startled.
"Good afternoon, sir," he said.
"I need to see you in my office," Hudgins said. Will felt sick. Jake would be having his revenge. Damn him. Numbly he followed Hudgins to the elevator and stepped inside.
Hudgins didn't say a word.
***
Three p.m. came. Gloria stood up.
"Hold on a minute, Gloria," said Will, still reeling from his meeting with Hudgins. "I need to see you and the rest of the office staff in the conference room."
"What is it?" said Gloria, her permanent smile actually achieving the rare state of a frown.
"I'll tell you in a minute," said Will. "Help me carry these boxes in, please."
Gloria and Linda followed him, puzzled.
Jake leaned out of his office. "What's your problem, old sport?"
"Meeting," said Will. "You need to be there."
The staff gathered in the conference room. They waited. Gloria took out a cigarette, twirled it, unlit, in her fingers, ignoring a look of death from Jake.
The door opened. Mr Hudgins stepped inside.
"I've called you all here for some important news," said the man, clearing his throat and looking at Will. "There have been some staff problems around here. I don't like it. I've decided this office needs a new manager.
"I've also decided to go into semi-retirement. Want to see Florida before I get too old. So there will be some changes here. Gloria, you are to be...the new office manager. Will, you are to execute my affairs for this company as vice president, in my absence. What you say, goes. Bring in some new ideas. Make this place grow. That is all."
He turned and left. Will looked around the room. They all seemed stunned. Jake looked like someone had let the air out of his body.
Will stood up, feeling the numbness wearing off and a tide of joy rising within him.
"You heard the man," he said. "Are we ready for some new ideas?" They just looked at him.
"Well, I suppose I need to start then," Will said. He leaned outside the door. "Julia, please come in."
The young woman from the morning stepped inside, looking beautiful and smiling fetchingly. "I've decided that this office needs a person of this calibre as assistant manager," said Will. "Julia will be joining us effective immediately."
Jake was looking positively sick. Gloria was grinning ear-to-ear.
"Now, as to policy. I believe relaxed employees are better employees. I believe good workers should be rewarded and provided certain perks."
He opened the big cardboard box in front of him, removing three Austrian crystal ashtrays, passing them to Linda, Gloria and Julia.
"From now on, this is to be an office in which those employees who choose to do so will be fully free to smoke, when and where they wish. Linda, Gloria, and our newest employee, Julia, will also be granted a tobacco allowance of $50 each week for cigarettes, lighters and matches, which they may order and have shipped directly to this office, at company expense, twice a week, for as long as they work for this company."
"And those of you who choose to take official breaks for smoking, outside or in the break room, understand that you will be paid fully for the time, so long as you do not leave company property."
Jake had turned green by now and was making funny noises.
"Maybe his lunch didn't agree with him," said Gloria, picking up her new lighter and touching it to her cigarette. She took a deep drag and exhaled beautifully, a cotton-white cloud that lifted above her black curls and flashing dark eyes. "Pobrecito. Maybe he needs a drink."
Gloria was the best thing that had ever happened to Federated Computer
Sales. A warm smile, a brilliant mind and uncanny perception of what
customers needed, and she rarely, if ever, lost a sale.
Being incredibly beautiful didn't hurt,either. She was a brown-eyed Hispanic goddess, tall, with a flawless complexion, long, black hair that curled slightly around her shoulders, a pert little nose, full, plump lips, tiny teeth like polished ivory, and a daring little tongue. Her breasts rode high beneath the sweaters she loved to wear, dancing when she laughed. Her hips flared just wide enough to be irresistable, above her long, silky legs; her bottom teased mercilessly -- up, down -- as she sauntered through the office. She favored open-toed sandals that showed off her tanned toes and painted nails.
Will couldn't promote her fast enough. She was raising the company's bottom line faster than he could order new business cards for her.
She deserved a private office but that privilege he denied her. Couldn't yield up the pleasure of sharing the space with her every day, listening to her win customer after customer with that Spanish-tinted, sexy voice of hers, listening to her make new friends with every phone call, watching her little mannerisms, from the way she played with her hair to the way she chewed her gum, dangled her pumps or sandals from her toes in playful moments, or just plain smiled.
And he certainly wouldn't give up spending the day bathed in the sweet clouds of her secondhand cigarette smoke, which crept across his desk promptly every morning as she lit her first smoke of the work day.
He'd be working away when the fragrance reached him and he'd look up and see her there, checking her email, wisps of smoking trickling from her lips and curling from a long, fresh cigarette in her fingers. She'd smile and blow him a kiss and laugh at him for getting so caught up in his work that he'd missed her arrival.
"Have you started smoking?" his doctor had asked incredulously, the last time he went for a physical and his lung check revealed pink now had a faint dusting of carbon.
Every bit of that, every ounce of tar now lurking within him, was her doing, had first filled her own lungs, had spent time in her body, before travelling his way. It gave him a strange sort of pleasure. Each time a curvaceous cloud drifted his way across the office, propelled by her lips, he'd inhale it fiercely, wanting to possess it, wanting what had pleasured her, had filled her mouth and rolled upon her tongue and explored the depths of her body, to now enter him.
Watching her smoke was like watching art in the making. She only smoked Felicidad cigarettes, an elegant, slender Venezuelan brand with double the nicotine of any American cigarette, and bearing a tiny rose impressed upon its length. She never resorted to the vulgarity of a cellophane pack, but kept her cigarettes in a pretty, sterling silver case.
She'd lift one out with a flick of manicured nails and raise it to her lovely face for a moment of quiet appreciation, inhaling the sweet, earthy scent of the raw tobacco before she finally laid the cigarette on the pillow of her lips.
Always, before she lit up, she'd freshen her lipstick. He teased her about it once, saying there wasn't much point when it would just be left on the cigarette. She smiled and said it made her feel glamourous to leave that crimson kiss upon the tip.
Almost always, she lit up with a match, scraped with one strong flick of her wrist into flaming life. She half-closed her eyes and furrowed her brow and held the flame to the end of her cigarette until it bit into the tobacco, whereupon she clamped her lips tightly down upon it -- what had been a loving embrace now becoming a lipstick-shaded death grip.
Now she inhaled and the raw tip became a fierce little fire, glowing like a bit of molten steel as she pulled a four-seconds worth drag of smoke through the cigarette and down to the depths of her incredibly powerful lungs.
Years of running track, plus some good genetics, she had told him once, when he had expressed amazement at how much she could inhale.
"I still work out," she said. "I eat right, too. So I'm in better health than most of those, how do you call it, anti-smokers out there."
Now her fingers, in a pretty little V, curved around the cigarette and pulled it away and for a second or two, he could see the cottony cloud of smoke filling her mouth, making an attempt to escape through her lips, before she swallowed it down her throat. Her tongue now licked around her teeth and lips for any lingering essence of the tobacco's sweet taste.
Down it went into the warm darkness of her lungs, there to be held until he thought she'd forgotten about it, swirling unseen deep within her chest, flooding her body with nicotine's loving message: all is well again.
Her face, beautifully bronzed by her Hispanic heritage, would faintly flush; her muscles relax.
Now her lips parted and across the wetness of her tongue the stream of smoke surged, escaping its prison in a rush to flood her mouth and spill from her lips in a creamy cloud, propelled by an audible sigh of pleasure.
Out of her it poured, almost endlessly, heaved forth while her lips guided it to freedom, billowing around her jet-black curls, reaching down to peek at her pert little breasts, then spreading across the room and becoming a faint, sweet haze.
A snap of her fingers to knock off a bit of ash from the tip and up the cigarette went for another inhale.
"I was twelve when I started," she said. "I was tall and skinny and very self-conscious and not very popular. Had to do something to get some attention. So I stole a pack of cigarettes from the store. Wasn't hard, really. I'd been taking candy and barrettes and other little things just for fun, for as long as I could remember and I knew how to get away with it."
"I tucked those cigarettes down in my little purse and made it out without getting caught. I was the hero of the moment. But then someone said, 'How long have you been smoking for?'"
"I couldn't tell them I'd never touched a cigarette in my life. I had to stand there and take one out and smoke it like I'd been smoking for years. I was shaking, dios mio, and they were all watching me like dogs around a deer, waiting for me to mess up. But I lit the damn thing without dropping it and I inhaled like I'd seen the ladies on the movies and I thought I was going to explode, the smoke burned so fiercely inside me, but I held it in. My head was spinning but I managed a pretty sexy exhale."
"Juan saved me, my best guy friend. He said, 'Hey, Gloria, you gonna smoke that whole thing by yourself? You owe me a cigarette from yesterday, remember?' And he took that cigarette from my shaking hand and took a puff and we walked away together, with everybody watching in awe."
"I never had popularity problems after that. I was a regular smoker within a week. After that first bad day, I realized how good nicotine made me feel and I wanted it all the time.
"I loved driving the boys crazy. I'd get the stares and the date every time, with a long cigarette smoldering in my fingers, over some silly, non-smoking cheerleader with nothing but giggles to offer. I'd blow a few little smoke rings and they'd walk right by her to get to me. I'd take a nice deep puff and casually exhale in their faces and they'd about die, so turned on but so confused because they'd been taught that they shouldn't be. I'd throw the cigarette down, step on it like a little girl tramping on a bug, grind it out with a twist of my heel and go my way wondering if they'd dare pick it up."
He listened to her, loving her every word. Too soon, she picked up her cigarette case and her purse.
"It's past five o'clock, pretty boy. See you tommorow. I'm off to spend way too much money for an evening in the gym."
Will watched her go, watched her fine rump in those tight blue jeans shifting sexily, vanishing out the office door. Then he gently emptied out her ashtray into an empty chocolate tin where he kept its daily contents -- fragrant ash and eight lipstick-kissed Felicidad cigarette butts, each with a dark brown circle on the filter, telling the tale of a woman's hungry mouth squeezing down like a vice upon them and of rich, nicotine-saturated smoke that had so recently been dragged through them to satisfy that hunger.
He picked up the Styrofoam coffee cup that also wore the print of her lips and sipped the cold, dark remnants from the bottom, knowing her mouth had tasted this coffee. He ran his tongue along the lip of the cup, scouring off the lipstick and swallowing it.
He kissed the warm spot in her chair where her bottom had so recently been sitting. He lifted a long, dark hair from the collar of the jacket she'd left behind, burying his face for a moment in the softness of that garment, scented with her perfume.
He pried the wad of gum loose from where she had wedged it under her desk, as she did almost every day --such a rude, sweet, careless, girlish gesture. He popped it into his mouth and bit down, his mouth filling with its faint mint flavor, the taste of her saliva and a bitter note of nicotine, for she had been smoking when she chewed this piece.
And he emptied her wastebasket of all the crumpled papers upon which she'd written something, upon which her lacy handwriting said something, anything, putting them in his briefcase to take home.
Then he picked up the phone and called her gym.
"Hello, this is Will, manager at Federated. You've got a regular
customer there, Gloria Moranos. She's just earned a promotion here and we'd
like to reward her with a year's free membership at your facility. Yes,
the Deluxe package -- spa, massage, manicure and pedicure included. Put
it on our account. Thank you very much."
