Dreama’s Journal–August 10
Today was rather slow at work. Stephanie sorted through her receipts trying not to laugh. We joked about our favorite customers. She knows I like Stefan and she knows it will probably never cross over into reality.
“I like Hunter. He is such a bad boy,” Stephanie said, alluding to a dark and handsome lawyer who dined here. “Now…he’s adorable.”
“And there he is,” I told her as I finished stocking utensils. “Do you want to go use the copy machine?”
Sometimes we talk about having sex on the copy machine. Neither of us has ever done something like that. We just tease about needing to use it when our favorite customers are around. It is our code word for saying how much we like them. We were all a bunch of married or divorced women, and each had a crush, even Nadine.
“How does my hair look?” Stephanie asked me, primping. Her wild curls dangled out from beneath her cap.
“You look beautiful. Now go say ‘hello.’”
“First, let me dust off that copy machine,” Stephanie giggled as she sashayed over to the tall man in a tailored suit.
He has a classic good look and certainly could break hearts. I watched them and the way they flirted for a moment. She dazzled him with her body language, and he stayed focused on her as if in awe. He enjoyed the attention, though he occasionally stepped back as they talked. He respects the invisible boundaries of their situation.
Stefan walked in late this afternoon. I had been helping Nadine stock up so that I could get ready to go home.
“Dreama, I can finish this up,” Stephanie said with a sly grin. “Why don’t you go use the copy machine?”
I nearly dropped the creamers. It was so hard not to get flushed over our secret joke. I had visions of dragging him over to the equipment just across from the counter. I’d see him grab me in his arms as I seize his lips. So mad with desire, he’d lift me up on it, and I’d finally have his body pressed against mine. I’d hope for time to stand still so I could linger in the moment of each detail from the smooth feel of his linen shirt to the hardness of his chest. My face must have turned red. The thought of those arms wrapped securely around me sent shivers through my body. I trembled with desire.
“Perhaps Stefan can help you, Dreama,” Stephanie called from across the room.
“Help with what?” he asked.
“Umm, the copy machine,” I said, trying to regain my composure, but my brain felt like a glob of useless goo.
“Is it broken?”
“No, I’m sure it is fine. It just doesn’t work sometimes.”
He laughed. I felt like an idiot.
“Are you sure I can’t give you a hand?”
“Maybe you should,” Stephanie commented, tip-toeing by with a tray of drinks.
I elbowed her in the ribs. Stefan knew he was missing some aspect of a secret joke. I was flustered, but his eyes intimately embraced me. The world seemed complete.
At least by joking, I can keep my infatuation safe and out in the open where it can’t do any harm. There’s less chance of it being taken seriously. Though the way he holds me with his eyes, he captures the essence of my trembling soul. If he pressed his lips to mine, I could not resist.
I can’t do this! I must empty my heart and mind of him, but he won’t let my spirit go. It doesn’t want to go.
I eyed the clock. It was almost four o'clock, time for me to go home. He always leaves before I do. What would happen if he didn’t?