Chapter 4: Focus, Dammit

Room 781-J of the Chelton Ingdu Building was just as horrible as ever. It was a cloudy and windy day, so the north-facing window was only opened a couple of inches and admitted only a modest amount of natural light. Overhead, elderly fluorescent light tubes cast a sickly artificial light on their piles of paperwork.

Because of his stop at home to change (and pack a bag), Eli entered the room about thirty minutes after his partner and paramour did. He slung his obligatory briefcase on the table next to his assigned rattletrap desktop computer and turned to face Connie.

And he froze.

Connie looked up at him, smiling, but her expression drained into puzzlement.

“What’s wrong, Eli?”

“Nothin’,” he croaked.

Impatiently, “What? What is it?”

“My heart stopped. I’m sorry. Connie, forgive me. I’d better sit down.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“It’s you. You’re, oh, I’m in so much trouble. God, you’re incredible. So beautiful.”

“Oh, no! This is where I slap you and cry, ‘Snap out of it!’ Nobody can be beautiful in this dingy room under these ghastly lights, least of all plain ordinary Connie Watson. Eli, I appreciate your words, but you know that you feel this way about me because we had sex yesterday.”

“And wonderful sex it was, Connie, but it’s more than that. It’s not what shows in your mirror (or under these lights). It’s you in my eyes, and your eyes looking back at me.

“All those revelations since we met, and you aren’t shocked or repelled. You’re ready to have more fun with me. With ME!”

“Oh, come on. Eli, get a grip. It’s too soon to pledge your life to me. We met yesterday. I know, you’re having powerful feelings.”

“You’re right, I know. And I can’t do my work here while I’m mooning over you. Why can’t I be paid to sit at your feet and sing your praises? Sounds good to me.”

“Sweetie, I’m distracted, too. But we need to get through our time in this room and then, tonight, we can enjoy ourselves. I sure as hell don’t want to spend any more time in here than I have to. Neither do you. You packed a bag?”

“I surely did.”

“Then, let’s get down to it, until lunchtime when we can be out of here for a while together.”

At lunch, “How are you doing, Eli?”

“The leash is back on my emotions.”

“That’s good. Our little doggie needs his leash. Sheila is right about you.”

“We should talk about her. You two are saying that you want to share me. Is that right?”

“It is right. She and I have been sleeping together for a long time. We’re not really good at lesbianism, but we enjoy being shitty with each other without being shitty with each other, if you know what I mean.”

“It is so incredibly powerful, Connie, that the three of us can be in each other’s arms and enjoy the same fetish. That’s part of what knocked me flat this morning. It still does, but I’m realizing I can’t just wallow in the emotion of it, or I can’t function. Does that make sense?”

“It does. I do understand your feelings. I’m sharing them, you know. But we can’t fuck around at work, neither figuratively nor literally. You know that. We have to get through this purgatory of being junior associates in order to have good legal careers when we’re older.”