Page 4 of Mailroom Delight
“Fuck, you are good. I actually believe I can do that.”
Again, even in my current state I knew I instilled confidence in women. Even the ones who’d felt completely scorned by men who had cheated on them, lied to them, gave them false hope.
I was theCosmopolitan Queen, and none of that fucking crap about heart-warmth was going to get to me.
I grabbed a sheet from the email print out I’d set down on the desk before me and a pen from the ceramic holder.
I knew exactly what I was going to write back to our new boss.
After the first email he sent me last week I conjured up this weird image of him, as to what he looked like.
I saw someone who looked like Colonel Sanders but wearing a robe like a shepherd would. Someone who was very sort of nineteen-fifties who said things likeswell,andgood golly. Like in that moviePleasantville.
I was about to give hisPleasantville-ass a rude awakening.
“What are you doing?” Bernice poured some more wine.
“Responding to his majesty, Colonel Sanders.”
“Paige, you kill me. He doesn’t look like Colonel Sanders.” Bernice was laughing so hard she could barely speak.
“Leave me alone. If he looks like Colonel Sanders in my head, then that is what he looks like.”
She continued to laugh.
I wrote the following straight from my heart.
Dear Jason,
Thank you for your emails. It sounds like you need to get laid, or possibly have a sex marathon.
Today’s modern woman doesn’t need to be put in a category to serve men, and I’m sorry if you think my advice lacks heart-warmth, or whatever it was you said. It is what it is.
Now maybe you should take a lesson or two from me. It could spice up your love life in the most unimaginable ways. Imagine being with a woman who will rock your world. It’s the difference between a $2 hook up and a mind-blowing experience.
I will gladly show you what I mean, so call me if you need clarification on any of the matters discussed. I look forward to meeting you.
~Paige
I was laughing so hard I could barely keep the grip on the pen to write my name.
I grabbed an envelope and popped the letter in and sealed it. Then I wrote his name on the front, put some of my red lipstick on and placed a big kiss next to his name.
“What did you write? You didn’t show me.” Bernice frowned.
“Never mind.” I set the envelope down and downed the wine in my glass.
Once I sipped the last drop my brain felt foggy and I couldn’t remember what I was doing.
Bernice took the envelope, carefully undid it, and took the letter out. She squealed when she read it.
“You can’t send him this!”
“I know, but it felt good to write.” I wasn’t really going to send him the note. I actually can’t remember what I was going to do, but I wasn’t stupid.
“Bernice what is…” my voice trailed off as the room started spinning.
The last thing I remembered before resting my head on the desk was Bernice laughing and saying something about sheep.
