How They Fly and Fly

John Shackelford, the wealthy owner of the city’s most prestigious automobile dealership, opened his office door and scurried inside. It was already December and chilly out, though few people could believe it. His office had a private entrance from outside.

Monica heard her boss close his office door. She had a few papers for him to sign but knew if she waited four or five minutes, he’d pop in her office.

She knew him well.

“Good afternoon. How’s our bank and friends?” she asked John as he stepped into her office.

“Hmph, I wonder sometimes, Monica.” He paused a sec. “Can you believe they’ve gone ahead and made that campy queer Bryan What’s-his-face a VP? A gay VP at First Federal! Where both my father and grandfather banked! Now, what’s the world coming to I ask you?”

“Oh, I like Bryan,” Monica said. “Bryan Turner. He’s so sweet and is always bending over backwards to help us. Remember the MacLendon mess? Bryan worked late every night for more than a week just for our sake.”

“Hmph. Just for the uninterrupted flow of the bank commissions they can debit us!” John grumbled. He was studying Monica’s stunning cleavage in a canary yellow blouse.

“And he’s so handsome,” Monica continued. “I sometimes think it’s a pity.”

“You know you’re free to think as you please in my offices. That doesn’t include do as you please, however. As for me, I don’t know when I can go back there. You can’t walk into the place without his seeing you. Maybe I’ll send you next time.”

“Things will work out,” Monica said. “Just wait and see. Any calls?”

John cleared his throat. “Excuse me. Oh, John Jr. called. You know what he wants. What about you?”

“Linda called. She dictated a message.”

For a sec John revealed his confusion.

“Linda, my ex?”

“Yes, Linda your second wife, not Linda your current wife. Melissa’s mom, right? “

“Yeah,” John said. “Dear Melissa. Must be time for registration. Great Scott, those semesters fly, don’t they?”

“Indeed they do, John.” Monica said. “How they fly and fly.”

“You busy tomorrow night?” John asked in a lowered voice.

“I always have something to do, as you know,” she said. “But if it’s necessary…”

“Bob bowling?”

“If the snowstorm of the century doesn’t hit us.”

“It’ll be worth it,” he said then turned and re-entered his spacey office.