Creative Challenge: Post 8

Carol enjoyed playing practical jokes. It annoyed him, sure, but she was the damned cutest thing, and he wasn't going to let that stop him from flirting with her.

The first one had been hilarious, to be sure. She had hidden in the cubicles till after everyone else had gone home, then planted piles of, well...She was a dirtier girl than you might have expected, and the boss was none too please about having to get his carpet steam cleaned the next day. Nobody had expected her as the culprit; she confided to Rick secretly one day, bent over in his cubicle. Her little pink mouth had been so close to his ear, he had to stop himself from shivering and imagining what those lips might feel like on his, well…

He was a dirtier guy than you might have expected, too.

Some of the jokes were a little less than funny, though. She had planted a very convincing prosthetic of a bloody severed limb (head, foot, hand, etc) into everyone’s filing cabinets. Most thought it was a laugh, but Judy had freaked at hers, having come in late and missed the big joke. She fainted, knocked her head on her desk, and had to get seven stitches. After that, the company executive had sent out letters detailing that anyone found setting up, or having initiated, a joke in this manner would be suspended at the very least.

So the jokes were tamer after that. Desktops changed to immediately frightening images that turned out to be cheesy on further inspections, people’s memos switched around, things like that. A few more warnings got sent out, but no more serious threats. Rick thought these were cute, and she probably only did it because she was exceptionally smart and very bored; he could sympathize. But getting his memos tucked into other people’s boxes so he got things handed in late got irritating after a while. His solution was to flirt her into submission, take her home, have a great time, and then politely ask her to stop fucking with him.

But not literally. That part was okay.

So, one day, at the proverbial water cooler in their office (they had celebrated the purchase of an expresso machine), when no one else was around, he swooped in.

“Hey, Carol?”

“Hm?” she asked, smiling innocently. That’s one thing he loved about her; that cutesy, innocent smile that convinced you she could have done absolutely no wrong.

“I was wondering…” he leaned in closer, lightly touching her arm. “What would you say to you an I skippin’ out of this joint at 5 and gettin’ dinner together?”

“Like, on a date?” she asked, giggling. He returned her giggle with a chuckle of his own.

“Yeah, yeah, like a date,” he said. She turned to him, and, rather unexpectedly, started brushing her fingertips down his arms, so gentle it almost tickled. He glanced around; no one was paying any attention to them.

“I think I’d like that,” she said, caressing him. He felt giddy as her hands ran down the back of his neck, under his ponytail, down his…

Ponytail. Suddenly his head felt a lot lighter, and he was fairly certain it had nothing to do with his giddiness.

“But not looking like that of course,” she said, giggling, and withdrawing her hand to show a thick wad, several inches long, of his beautiful, shiny brown hair.

His mouth fell open. Now people were looking, and laughing. He felt his face redden as she leaned in; he wasn’t sure if it was with embarrassment or anger.

“Keep off, player, or next time I’ll cut off something that won’t grow back.”

She giggled venomously, and left him standing there. Carol did love playing practical jokes.