After Edward left, I continued to work swing shift, was accepted at work as one of the "girls", enjoyed their company but remained aloof. In truth, I was not like them even though I tried to be. The twelve years of my parochial school left its indelible mark.
I yearned for the part of me lost when Edward left. Each day I dressed, put on makeup, combed my hair, dabbed on perfume, I did so for his absent approval. He too left an indelible mark. I remained his Asian doll.
It wasn’t enough to fill the void. I pined for his smile, voice, caress, and sophistication. That’s what I told myself. In truth, I missed the affair’s forbidden excitement, his epicure dining, most of all the attention of being someone special. No longer were T’s noon times peak weekdays. Friday nights slipped by uneventful, I no longer the object of a maître d’s or sommelier’s attention.
My internal trinity was in conflict. My God the Father’s mind yearned for Edwards intellectual stimulation, Jesus Christ’s heart ached for his love and Vixen’s Un-Holy Spirt meowed for his stroking.
Please, me now, now!
Like the Siamese cats in the Disney movie, Lady and the Tramp she hummed the lyrics twisted to:
I am horny if you please
I am horny if you don't please
There is no finer Vixen than me
I like, you pet me quite a while
Meow, meow, Vixen, wants it now, now.
After a year of marriage fidelity, my mind and heart joined Vixen into a chorus, humming the ditty.
We are horny if you please
We are horny if you don't please
There are no finer than we
If we like we let you pet us quite a while
Meow, meow we want it now, now.
While aligning at work the ditty would pop up. In the spring of 1978, a year after Edward walked on the plane and out of my life, an engineer walked in at Nortec while I aligned wafers. The Trinity didn't flirt for his attention; they didn't even notice him when boldly approached while I was bent over aligning and asked.
“Hi good looking. How, about having lunch together at break?”
Looking up from my microscope, refocused, I scanned him. His alignment pleased me.
“I don’t eat cafeteria food. I bring my lunch. Cafeteria food’s bad.”
“I know but I didn’t bring lunch. You can sit with me while you eat yours. I’m just asking for us to sit together.”
“You’re pushy. I’m aligning now. Pick a seat. When I go to lunch, I’ll decide if I sit with you.”
I bent back down to align. He strode off, de-boldened.
When I carried my lunch bag to the cafeteria, he was sitting alone at a far corner table. I sat across from him, opened my plastic lunch container and nibbled on the chicken I brought but didn’t look at him. He finally asked.
"Cat got your tongue? It’s okay. I’m glad you decided to sit with me. What’s your name?
I looked up.
“Cobra, are you venomous?”
“Careful, I might bite.”
My tongue darted out in warning.
“How about you and me, we go on a date? Let me see if I can charm you not to bite."
"So am I".
"Í don't see a ring".
"Don't wear one but I'm married."
He was ten years older, good looking but bald on top and a bit on the short side, say five feet nine inches. I figured Italian. He had a nice voice and smelled good. He was sure of himself in demeanor, an Alpha male. I looked directly at him.
"Are you good enough to date me?"
He didn’t flinch or look away but smiled, self-assured.
"I'm good, yes, very good. If you go on a date with me then you will know I’m good."
I knew the best response was to mock him. Engineers assumed line girls were attracted to them. I was never, ever, going to be his F and F. I wanted a prince Edward, an Omega.
"Who are you and what do you do here?"
"I'm self-employed. I’m an electrical engineer working on contract. Nortec contracts me to fix equipment when it breaks down. I fix it. You can call me Enrico."
I looked directly at him, again darted out my tongue for his attention.
"You can call me Cobra. You may be good but I've never dated a Mexican electrician. My husband’s an engineer."
Insulted he replied,
"I'm an electrical engineer, not an electrician and I am Italian, not Mexican."
Knowing Italians tended to look down on both I retorted.
"Well, you look Mexican or maybe Portuguese."
He smiled instead of protesting. He realized I was teasing.
“So, you do bite. I still would like to charm you.”
"Where would you take me on your date?"
"Where ever you like."
"I like shopping, my husband never takes me."
"I’ll take you shopping".
"You need to be a real engineer to afford what I like. You need a good credit card. I like nice things."
Laughing at my brashness he replied.
"I like to be treated nice when I buy nice things."
"Get me perfume so I can smell good for you."
"That's for you to decide. I need to know if you are a Cheap Charlie cologne or Good Charlie perfume."
"I'm Good Charlie Perfume, you'll see."
Finished munching my chicken I replied.
"You better go fix the equipment or they’ll contract another to do it."
I got up and went to the girls' table. They’d been watching from afar and began their innuendos and teasing as I sat down.
The next lunch shift, he was sitting at the same table with a wrapped little box. I sat down and opened it, Shalimar, a half-ounce.
Setting it on the table I glibly replied.
"A half ounce, you’re only good for half a date?"
He stared, stunned with no cocky smile. He took the package and wrapping, put them in his coat pocket and left without a word. It didn't matter if we went out or not. If we did it was going to be on my terms. That was what my mind said but Vixen said a half-ounce was fine.
The next lunch he had an ounce bottle, boxed but unwrapped as if to say he too was indifferent.
I opened the box, then the bottle and applied dabs behind my ears and on my wrists. After a few moments to merge with my scent, I placed one wrist under his nose.
It was our first contact. He lost his indifference. I lifted my hair on one side and let him put his face to the nape of my neck and sniff. I was wearing the dangling gold and pearl earrings of Edward yore. He attempted to kiss my neck but I pulled back and told him.
"We're not on a date yet."
Tired of my banter he replied.
"Are we going out or not?"
"I would if I had something to wear."
"What, a nightie"?
"I need a nice dress and shoes to be nice on a date."
I wrote my sizes on a napkin to let him know I was serious. He was upset as if I was making him a fool. I got up, left to the girl’s table but turned around on leaving, smiled as a flirt and said.
"Make sure you don't get half a dress and one shoe."
"It better not be half a date."
"I don't do half dates."
The next shift, Thursday, he wasn’t there. I assumed his interest had waned. Friday, however, he showed up and explained he had worked Thursday at another facility.
"I got you a nice dress and shoes. They’re in my car. You want to see them?"
"Get them and I will try them on in the ladies’ room. If they look good, I will let you see me wear them."
I wasn’t going to degrade myself rushing to his car as if I was a cheap F and F. He came back with an Emporium bag and handed it to me. I didn’t look inside and went to the ladies’ room to examine his nice. The quality of the blue dress, with white embroidery, was okay but the shoes weren't what I’d pick to match the dress. Together, however, they made their statement. He wanted nice and sexy.
I put them on. The dress hem was three inches above my knees. The three-inch heels pushed me forward. I put the dress and shoes I wore to work in the bag and the bag in my work locker.
With my smock over my new dress, I strode back to his isolated table. Walking across the cafeteria I crossed footsteps to provide emphasis of the high heels. Their clicking on the floor raised the heads of the girls at my regular table.
Standing before his table, he stared down at my feet in the shoes he selected and smiled.
"How’d you like the dress."
I lifted my smock as if to show the dress but pinched it with the smock so it rose too. He briefly saw my panties.
I dropped the smock, bent over and crossed my arms, as if embarrassed.
"The dress looks great on you. You promised a date."
"Meet me Sunday, ten in the morning, at the Stanford Mall fountain."
"Not more shopping?"
"I said, I like shopping, but my husband never takes me."
I got up, took a few steps with heels clicking to go back to work, stopped and turned back to him. He obviously had been watching my posterior sway. I opened the front of the smock so he could see the dress then left him smiling at the table.
The girls quizzed me but I told them I was just teasing and wasn’t interested.
“He’s a joke. If you girls want him, he’s yours. You can have the dress and shoes too.”
The truth, after a year of martial fidelity, I was swept off by my feet, not by him, by my repressed wantonness.
Author Notes: She tries to control and manipulate an engineer met a work by banter but is struggling with herself.