Marjorie was the sweetest girl in the office—maybe in the world. She always had a bright, white smile and never had a bad day. In the morning, she would say to everyone, “It’s a awesome day to be alive, isn’t it?”
Her coworkers said she was too sweet. They avoided passing by her desk most of the morning and into the afternoon. They found her survivable only between noon and one o’clock when she was out for lunch. Some people who sat near her cubicle got depressed from her cheerfulness. It made them grumpier, especially on sunny days.
Like her demeanor, Marjorie’s cubicle was happy. She had a coffee mug that read “It’s a great day to have a great day.” She also had a peace lily that she watered on Tuesdays and Fridays. Her cubicle was neat and organized. Pink and florescent green Post-It notes were stuck to the bottom of her computer monitor with reminders of appointments and to-dos written in the sweeping cursive handwriting of a woman born to be a third-grade schoolteacher.
Her curly, brown hair was raised in a bushy ponytail, held in place by a pink Scrunchie. She wore simple bowed loafers or, once in a while, chunky heels that matched her conservative outfits. Under her business jackets were darling blouses of red, pink and, on cloudy days, a summery yellow.
During business calls and in-person meetings when everyone else was quiet, she would respond to lighthearted comments with a soft giggle and acknowledgements, as if filling in for empty time.
Then there was one meeting in which Marjorie confounded Paul. She offhandedly mentioned that, at a party, she met a principal associate at a competing firm. Paul wasn’t so much surprised about who she met but that she had actually gone to a party. He thought of her as a girl who would go home after work and read a classic novel—Pride And Prejudice or Jane Eyre, for instance—or play Mozart on the piano until her early bedtime.
Paul could not imagine her going to a party and staying out late. To him, she gave off the vibe of being a virgin—sweet and sparkly. But not a virgin begging to be deflowered, so to say, but one who would drawback at the sight of a penis, as if it was a gross snake. More so, she may be one who would not succumb to trivialities and quickies offered by the snake. Paul had even wondered if she had ever kissed a boy. Kissing a girl was absurd. Was sex even a consideration of hers?
The party and his assumptions confused him about her. He was so caught up with the party comment though, that, late in the afternoon, he visited her cubicle.
“Hi,” Paul said, walking up.
She sat upright in her ergonomic office chair and smiled.
“Good afternoon! How’s your day been?”
“Fine. I was in the meeting earlier this morning.”
“Yes, I saw you. I like your tie. It complements the suit jacket and slacks.”
“Thanks.” He lifted his tie to look at the design she had noticed. “You mentioned you met a guy from a competing firm. I wondered—”
Her smile washed away, and her face turned pale. “I’m not thinking of leaving our company. I like it. I really do. The people here are wonderful.” Her smile reappeared, although her forehead was creased in a hint of confusion. “Meeting him was only a happenstance. I’m not sure, really, that he even recognized me. I mean who would.”
“I’m not assuming any of that. Don’t worry,” Paul reassured. He leaned on the wing panel of her cubicle. “I just wondered where the party was and how you got invited … I mean … That sounded so bad … I just wondered if you knew someone who was at the get-together and invited you. I just wondered about you and the party. Boy, I sound so stupid.” He scratched his head and looked at the floor.
She gave a happy giggle. “It’s okay, Paul. I just have a friend from college who was looking for someone to go with. She called me.”
“When did you graduate?”
“Five years ago.”
“So you’ve known her for a while.”
“Yes.” Her answer now was tainted with more confusion about his line of questioning.
“I feel like I’m prying. I’ll let you get back to work.” He turned to leave.
“No need to say sorry. It’s all right.” She wheeled her chair to the side and placed her forearm on her desk next to the keyboard. She crossed her ankles, keeping her knees together.
The next question basically fell out of Paul’s mouth. “You go to a lot of parties?”
“Not really. I’m more of a homebody. I enjoy a number of shows on Hulu, so they keep me on the couch. I go out when I think I’ll have fun.”
Paul ran his fingers through his dark hair. He opened his mouth to say something but opted against it. Instead, he ended this conversation.
“Nice talking to you.”
“Great talking to you too, Paul. Hope you have a fabulous rest of the day!” Then she turned back to her computer.
Paul heard her fingers clacking on the keyboard as he walked away.
He could not shed the idea of Marjorie and parties. They were like oil and vinegar. The two wouldn’t go together.
Later that day, Paul’s phone pinged with a text message from a friend, Jared.
Dude! Strange link came to my phone. Goes to sex toy party. Meant for my gf. So hot.
Gonna go?
Did. Was virtual. Made up a profile, sneaked in!
WTF!
Check this out.
An image appeared on Paul’s phone.
Although blurry, obviously a dark-haired woman was sitting on the edge of a cream couch. Her legs were open, and eyes closed. Her fingers daintily held the end of a smooth pink device in her with a small stimulator made to hit her clit. The woman was certainly enjoying herself.
Jared sent another text.
Was like a virtual sales thing. Remember Tupperware parties that your mom would go to?
Don’t mention her in this conversation!
Got short video. NSFW.
Will watch later.
Paul scanned the image again, salivating over the picture of the woman and her joy. He hadn’t been with a woman in a while. Then something triggered his mind.
He enlarged the image to focus on it in greater detail. Up close to his nose and then at arm’s length.
He put down the phone as if it was burning hot. “No way. It can’t be.”
He left his phone on his desk. His heart beat quicker, and he had to ease his breathing. He strolled through the maze of cubicles on the open office floor to cool his mind. He passed by Marjorie’s cubicle a little slower.
“Hi, Marjorie. Day going well?”
She set down her pen. “It’s better than well. Very good and productive.”
“Must have had a good time last night. That is, if you’re doing this good today.”
She smiled, although looking somewhat confused.
“I did have a nice evening. Relaxing, yes, mm-hmm.”
Paul nodded in a sudden awkwardness. “Well … I’ll let you get to work again.”
“Sure, and stop by anytime.” She gave a quick wave and turned to the wide computer monitor. Her fingers began clacking on the keyboard once more.
At his desk, Paul compared the image on his phone to the woman on the other side of the office.
They were extremely similar if nothing else. But Marjorie playing with intimate toys? It was too odd. Tupperware would be better suited for who she was. The plastic containers are conservative and bland with the patented burp.
It came time to leave for home, and, even though it was the longer way to the elevator, Paul passed by Marjorie’s desk.
“Have a good evening, Marjorie,” he called.
“You too.”
But then she waved to get his attention. “Wait, Paul! Let me finish this email. I’ll come with you.”
“Come with me?”
She laughed at his reply. “You’re the only Paul I know.”
Marjorie scrambled to send the email and pack up a few things.
Paul watched her move. Could those hands be the ones in that image on his phone?
“I’ll be just a minute,” she assured him.
“No worries. Take your time. Unless you’ve got something to do tonight.”
Paul leaned on the chest-high cubicle wall like he had earlier. He waited, still wondering if she was that woman. But it was too farfetched—the whole thing—so he forced himself to write off the notion, setting aside any conspiracy theory. This was only merry Marjorie.
“You don’t have any appointments tonight, do you?” he asked after the lingering silence.
“Not really. Just calling some friends in a few hours.” She slid a laptop into her red, leather carryall with a glimmering Michael Kors charm dangling from a strap. They walked to the elevator.
“Like a party call?” He spoke before thinking.
“Something sort of like that.” She hoisted the bag on her shoulder. “More fun though.”
“More fun. What kind of fun?” Paul could have punched himself for misspeaking again.
“Girls like to talk. Chatting is always a party.”
“I guess that’s true from what I hear. My mother would host Tupperware parties when I was a kid. All her friends were so talkative. I don’t know how she sold anything at all.”
“Sales is showing how a product improves life.” Marjorie pressed the down button at the elevator. “Your mom probably had an underlying approach even while laughing and chatting.”
“Do they have those sorts of parties nowadays? I mean, if I had something to sell on the side—” Paul stopped. “Never mind.”
Paul and Marjorie watched the floor numbers drop until their floor number appeared. The elevator pinged and the doors slid open. He let her on first.
In the small cube, they were alone. He liked her sweet scent of flowers.
“I am going to crash tonight when I get home. I need some relaxation,” he said.
“Get some rest to be ready to go hard tomorrow. I get the feeling it will be a great day.” She nudged his arm with her elbow. It was the first time she had touched him.
“Marjorie, how do you make everyday a great day?” Paul asked.
“I choose to, and I have some pick-me-ups that help too.”
Paul was about to respond.
“And, no, Paul, I’m not taking drugs.” She switched the bag to her other shoulder.
Paul laughed and the elevator pinged.
They said their goodbyes in the echo of the parking garage. He forced himself to go to his car, although he glanced back to her. She had nice legs.
Was it her? The mystery returned.
Immediately, in his car, he clicked the link to the video that Jared had sent.
The video was a waste. The woman was too blurry to see. She spoke too softly or Jared thought he was recording a hot video, with his phone, of a virtual meeting on a computer screen. He probably recorded it from an Android phone.
He texted Jared.
Video was no good. Blurry. Next meeting time? Can I get in?
His phone pinged. There was an oddly long link.
Meeting at 7
Paul was determined to solve the mystery of Marjorie. He sped from the parking garage, revving his engine as if releasing his pent-up horniness. The roar echoed throughout the cramped garage.
As soon as he got home, he changed into athletic shorts and a T-shirt. He followed Jared’s link. He registered for the event. He noted to the host that he would not have video on or say anything due to privacy needs at home. The host was fine with it, saying it was normal.
Before 7, Paul was at his computer, bouncing his knee in nervousness. A few times, he had to stand and walk from the computer to the kitchen to the living room and back to the computer simply to expend this boiling energy.
He didn’t sign into the meeting too soon. He planned to be maybe two or three minutes late.
Time seemed to move frustratingly slow. He was too excited about his theory. Was Marjorie more than a good girl?
At 6:59, he could wait no longer. He signed into the meeting. Paul was online as Paula. He was on mute and with his screen black.
Already, there were four other women in the meeting. One blonde named Lacy. Maria, a Latina woman. Shelly and Anna were on one camera. The four of them talked and laughed. It was obvious that they knew each other, and nothing would be awkward between the four. Soon, a heavy-set woman named Evelin arrived too.
However, the hostess’s camera was black.
A quick chime and Cynthia, Jared’s girlfriend, appeared. Paul wondered if he might see her excited. Hot, although Jared would not like it. However, this wasn’t about Cynthia. She was cute, but Paul was focused instead on one thing: The hostess.
“Good evening, we’ll get started in a moment. I’m getting my camera reset. Damn thing,” the hostess said.
Cursing? Paul was ready to wipe out his theory.
“While I work out this camera thingy, let me get started,” the hostess said. “From the inquiries received from you, you all are interested in vibrators and anal beads and subtle toys. All of them are available. I’ve emailed you a catalog. Everyone received the free sonar clitoral stimulator that I sent. Paula, I’ll put it in the mail tomorrow. You’ll love it, trust me.”
The ladies clapped, and Shelly hooted and flung her arms around Anna’s shoulders. They all said how much they liked their gifted toy.
“Now ladies,” the woman said, “these toys are not just your playthings. They make you sleep better and take you places that men rarely take us to.”
“Hey, hey, I believe that,” Lacy said, raising her hand.
Everyone laughed. Paul was too crazed to react.
“Not that they can’t, but…” the hostess said.
“My man snores too much. I don’t get much quiet time,” Maria said.
The ladies talked about their issues in bed. This was like the Tupperware parties at his house when he was a kid and had to stay out of sight.
“And some of you,” the hostess continued, “may be too shy to even do it in front of anyone, so I have some toys just for you. Someone next to you in bed wouldn’t know it, unless you make the noise.”
“I am not nervous. I love it when people watch me,” Eveline interjected, with a big grin.
Suddenly the hostess appeared on camera.
“Holy shit!” Paul shouted. “Marjorie, it’s you!”
She was happy as ever, but her hair was down. No Scrunchie. Before her there was a table filled with toys of all colors and sizes and shapes.
Paul pulled out his hard dick and stroked. His mind was twirling so fast that he heard very little that was said. He was astounded instead by the video. Mouth agape, he watched as Marjorie held up toy after toy. He recalled the name Siri and terms like sound-activated and waterproof and something about an enigma. He was on a different plane watching Marjorie.
He had to slow down his stroking simply to last. He hoped Marjorie would shed her clothes, maybe try out a toy.
That’s when she said it was these toys and deciding to have a good attitude that made the workweek speed by. She said it was her secret formula.
She then pulled out a unique dark cylinder about six inches long.
“This may not be specifically for us,” Marjorie said, waving it in the air, “but we need to think about our men once in a while.”
Then Marjorie shocked Paul. “I like to watch men use this.”
Paul choked and struggled to breathe.
“When he shoves his dick into this and he feels like he’s getting head, it turns me on. My god, does it ever! I could watch him all day. Their peak is so good.” She waved her hand in front of her face as if having a rush of heat. “I think it may be a unique fetish. I don’t know though. Don’t hold it against me. I always have to catch my breath when I watch.”
“Wow,” Maria said. “Girl, you still here? You going somewhere else.”
“Sorry.” Marjorie took a deep breath. “It gets me. This is not a sales trick either. It’s been that way for years. Watching men—my goodness, so hot. Then giving them instructions on how I want it done.”
The ladies chatted about Marjorie’s fetish and the usefulness of the male masturbator.
Marjorie corralled the conversation.
“This is my favorite part,” she said. “Does anyone mind if I show off?”
“Please do. We like to watch, right, ladies?” Anna said. “Remember Candy Land?” The four ladies cheered. Eveline smiled.
On her camera, Marjorie stood. Her shoulders and upward left the screen. She shuffled down her pants, rocking her hips side to side. When they fell, she was in a tiny pair of pink panties.
Paul was crazed. He stopped his hand. He had to. He was only a few strokes away and wanted to hold out as long as possible.
“Come on, Marjorie. Get going,” he grumbled.
Then her panties came off. She had a clean-shaven pussy.
She settled on the edge of the cream couch and opened her legs wide. She grabbed a smooth, pink rabbit vibrator. In a couple of seconds, she was moaning and wincing. Her eyes were closed, and her head was looking upward. Her back was arched.
A few strokes and Paul was done. He exploded with a great heave.
He was left with a gooey hand and a mystery solved. He purchased the male masturbator.
“This is for you, Marjorie,” he said, when he bought it, although he made sure he was still on mute.
At the office the next morning, he walked by Marjorie’s cubicle. He was smiling brightly and was happy.
“Good morning, Marjorie! It’s a great day to have a great day, isn’t it?” he said.
“You know it is!” She waved back.
Later that day, Marjorie stopped at his messy cubicle with a wilting plant.
“You doing all right?” she asked.
“I just had a great night. I’m ready to handle anything and everything. I decided to have a great day,” Paul said.
Marjorie grinned. “I love to see that!”
“I think you’ll see it more now,” he said.
“I hope to.” She waved and turned to leave. But she stopped.
“I don’t have time right now, but I’d like to know what happened last night that impacted you so much.”
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