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eBook Category: Erotica
eBook Description: Photocopying his butt at the office Christmas party sounded like a cheap thrill at the time, but what does Johnson tell his boss when Mr. Sanford finds those copies on his desk the next day? **Previously published at Ruthies Club.

eBook Publisher: Aspen Mountain Press, Published: 2006, 2007
Fictionwise Release Date: January 2008

This eBook is part of the following series:

• J. M. Snyder's Working Man Series

111 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [40 KB] , ePub (EPUB) [68 KB] , Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [12 KB] , Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [203 KB] , Palm Doc (PDB) [12 KB] , Microsoft Reader (LIT) [130 KB] , Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [83 KB] , hiebook (KML) [92 KB] , Sony Reader (LRF) [77 KB] , iSilo (PDB) [10 KB] , Mobipocket (PRC) [13 KB] , Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [81 KB] , OEBFF Format (IMP) [22 KB]
Words: 3603
Reading time: 10-14 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
ISBN: 9781601680723

I'm at the water cooler, listening to Kevin's story of how he fought off a horde of housewives for the last TMX Elmo in Toys 'R Us, when I hear my name bellowed from the boss's office. "Johnson!"

The few co-workers near me scatter. I wonder if I can slink away to my desk and pretend I didn't hear when Mr. Sanford yells out again. "Johnson! In my office, now!"

"It was nice knowing you," Kevin says as I toss my cup into the trashcan. I know all too well what this must be about--the office Christmas party last Friday night. God! Kevin claps a hand on my back like a nail hammered into my coffin. "The Rich-Meister, caught makin' copies."

"Shut up," I mutter. With my head down, I move through the cubicles in our small office like a man going to the gallows. Ahead Mr. Sanford's door is open and I can see him sitting behind his desk, his movie-star good looks warring with the intense blaze of hatred in his eyes. He's found out then, I know he has--someone mentioned it in passing, or maybe they narced on me deliberately, who knows? Who cares? Somehow he knows about the copier and that's it, I'm fired. Day before Christmas Eve, too. Fuck.

I glance at his secretary as I pass but the smirk she gives me isn't sympathetic. "You're dead," she mouths. Though she holds the phone to her ear, I know she's talking to me.

Stepping into his office, I figure the best course of action is to play dumb. Pretend it wasn't me, or say I don't remember it, I was too drunk. That's mostly true ... stopping in front of my boss's cherry wood desk, I swallow past the lump of fear in my throat and squeak, "Yes?"

Shit. I even sound guilty. Clearing my throat, I try again. "Mr. Sanford, yes." Then, realizing that's not a question, I add, "Yoor quick and easy. Just fire me already, I want to say, but I'm too scared of my boss to speak to him in that way, or any other way. I can't even look him in the face, this close. Suddenly I'm seven years old and waiting in the principal's office for the shit to hit the fan.

"Johnson," he says again, his voice slightly lower this time.

My gaze flickers up from his hands to glance over his face--he has rugged looks, craggy features that remind me of Harrison Ford or Sean Connery, one of those leading movie men now slightly past their prime. He's old enough to be my father, Mr. Sanford is, and a hard life of tough business decisions has grayed his hair at the temples. His skin has gotten so much sun over the course of his life that he sports a perennial tan, his face, hands and neck darkened and crisscrossed with smooth, fine lines.

When I first met the man, I thought him attractive, with a sparkling grin, quick laugh and strong handshake that I can still feel. But my childish crush died the minute I signed the employment paperwork.

He's a hard man to work for, with high standards that half of the employees in his firm fail to meet. I've been here six months and still feel my position is a balancing act--the turnover is so high in some departments, they don't bother to get business cards printed until you've been here at least a year. This December's the first month no one's been let go since I've been here.

Yet.