Human Resources

Human Resources
by Halley Suitt

Pulling out of his icy driveway at 7:35 am, Tom was already so exhausted on his way to work, even his favorite music had no appeal this morning. Was it too much to ask – to just have a life, a reasonable night’s sleep, a wife who made breakfast? With the new baby, he never slept anymore, they never had sex, he could never leave the house in one piece, much less with any peace of mind.

Even the necktie he had put on this morning, the one a certain Miss Caldwell had given him as his Secret Santa – the one with the tiny Tweety Birds and Sylvesters chasing each other around – got baby poop on it before he even left the house and he had to take it off and put another on. That was the last straw. He didn’t even bother putting his samba music on in the car this morning.

Usually by the corner of Fifth and Broadway, he’s slipped in a CD of Brazilian music and was in a full-blown fantasy about doing it with Miss Caldwell, the sexy, young blond Human Resources VP, who’d been assigned to his department last November. It was close to Thanksgiving last year when she arrived, he remembered because one of his guys had said, “Now, we’ve got something to be thankful for,” as they shuffled out of the meeting where they were supposed to get more “intimate” with Miss Caldwell, as the head of HR had put it in his email to set the meeting date.

Depending on his mood and the volume of the samba music, he imagined them together at a fancy hotel in Rio de Janiero where he’d never been, or when he was feeling less imaginative, settled for the Embassy Suites across from his office. She had great sexy lingerie in his fantasy. He had bought it all for her. That was all she wore – or nothing – in his fantasy. It was getting bad, because he’d gone into a Victoria’s Secret store the week before, when he was alone on a business trip to Denver. He’d never done that before. Yes, he’d perused the catalogue addressed to his wife at home, but had never actually gone into one of the stores.

There was a sexy red silk teddy that caught his eye. Miss Caldwell would look like a million bucks in it, he grinned, as he thought this. A salesgirl appeared out of nowhere, standing there grinning back at him.

“What size is your girlfriend?” she said innocently.

“My, my … my what?!” he blurted out.

“Your wife, then?” she said, just trying to be helpful.

“Yes, my wife, yes, my wife …” he bumbled, backing away from her and holding the teddy on the hanger at arm’s length as if it were suddenly radioactive. “I’m sorry. She … my wife, I guess she used to be a size 8. I don’t know her size anymore,” He pushed the teddy on the sales girl and almost fled the store.

And now it was February and the new baby, Tom Jr, was still not sleeping through the night, his wife was still super fat from her pregnancy and Tom was at the end of his rope. He knew how selfish it was to even think these thoughts, but he missed his old life. Tom was really ready to scream this morning. They had both been up a good part of the night, the baby crying non-stop as they tried to “teach” him to sleep through the night.

Tom had gotten a book about it. It was clear. They had to be firm. He had insisted that his wife stop getting up in the middle of the night and bringing the baby into their bed to breastfeed him endlessly. He wanted the bed back – back to being THEIR bed – a bed where sex might happen again one of these days. He was sick of the whole thing -- the baby, the breastfeeding, sharing his wife’s breasts with this little interloper, his wife not being there for him, all of it.
He arrived at work as frustrated as he’d left home and stormed into his office.

“Bad morning?” she said. There she was. It was her. She was sitting on his couch. She was really there. He nearly fainted to see the real Miss Caldwell on his couch as he’d put her many times in his fantasies. She was wearing clothes this time, however. A beautiful red wool suit, well-tailored and hugging every curve.

“Miss Caldwell,” he said, trying to sound under control, but he was far from it.

“You’ve got to start calling me Ginny, this is silly,” Ginny Caldwell said to Tom, “I mean, yes, in front of your team, maybe, it you want to, you can call me Miss Caldwell, but really, I thought we were friends,” She was holding two cups of coffee.

“Yes, friends,” he blurted out.

“This is for you,” she pushed a cup of latte from Starbucks across the desk towards him.

“Thank you, it’s my favorite, how did you know?”

“Listening skills, big thing for HR folks you know,” she said smiling.

He was feeling unexpectedly shy. She was coming close. All he knew was that he was sweating. Maybe she knew everything, everything he was thinking about her and everything he was feeling.

“Tom?” she asked slowly, tilting her head in the most adorable way, he thought, “are you okay?

“Yes, yes, fine, yes,” he stumbled a bit.

She got up, crossed the room, ”I better close the door,” she said with a tone that excited and frightened him. She had such a pretty curvy shape and he was beginning to get hard.

“What?” he asked, his nerves were really coming undone.

“It’s about Jill Anderson,” she said.

“Oh,” he sighed at the mention of the annoying girl’s name. An infuriating sluggish secretary who seemed to spend most of her time doing her nails and nothing else.

“We had another complaint,” Ginny explained, holding the file folder carefully as if it were a baby, “It’s all I needed. I think we need to do it today.”

“Do it?!” he said, and knew he was actually blushing. Christ, he thought to himself. Get it together man.

“Tom, are you really okay?” she smiled in such a sexy way.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said.

“Let her go,” she said slowly, “I need your help today to fire her.”

“You’ve got it,” he said, rising to the occasion and wanting to say “You’ve got me, Ginny!” but not daring.

Suddenly everything changed in the room. They had a mission. It all felt better. He really liked the sound of firing someone today. It was somehow alluring in an animalistic, feral way.

“And I want to do it this morning, soon,” she explained.

“Yes,” Tom said, “Let’s do it.”

“Good” she came to the side of his desk and he liked that. She had a file folder of documentation to show him. He could smell her perfume and she smelled very good.

They reviewed the folder together. There was the insubordination, the showing up late, the “zillions of sick days”, as she called it, and then the thing that happened with the Fed-Ex guy. It was more than enough.

“She cooked her own goose,” Tom said.

“Exactly. You and I see eye-to-eye on this,” Gina said, “We need to go in there with both of us on the same page.”

She as always using these big-guy phrases and she was so petite. He smiled absentmindedly. He thought she was so cute when she talked so tough.

“Exactly,” he said, almost in the same tone she had used.

“You ready?” she said, in a way that got him more excited than he would ever admit. He could see she liked this part of her job. She was a strong and decisive woman, no doubt about it.

They went down the hall and called Jill Anderson into Miss Caldwell’s office to join them. Tom liked to watch the efficient way Miss Caldwell handled things. Not Miss Caldwell, Ginny, he corrected himself, also watching the curve of her pretty bottom, in that tight red skirt. “I am calling her Ginny. She’s my Ginny,” he thought deliciously.

The unsuspecting Jill plopped down into the chair across from them with an exasperated smirk – he had expected to feel slightly sorry for the girl, but suddenly she reminded Tom of his wife. Yes, she was like his wife in a number of ways, slightly plump, rather recalcitrant, with a bit of an attitude.

Ginny started the conversation, explaining the problems. And this silly girl, Jill, actually started to argue with Miss Caldwell. Tom was shocked and suddenly silent. How could anyone argue with his angel, Ginny?

“No,” Ginny said firmly to the girl, “I don’t think YOU understand, Jill,” he heard her say forcefully. Yes, he thought, she’s Ginny, very Ginny, so very Ginny. And I’m nuts for her, he thought.

And this Jill, golly, she was a nightmare. She was just like his wife, everything he couldn’t stand about his wife was in this girl. Intractable, irksome, quarrelsome. But thank goodness, Ginny, his Ginny was kicking her ass. He was getting even more excited just watching it. In his casual business dockers, he was growing harder still. He pressed the file folder into his lap, to keep the obvious from showing, but wished it was Ginny he was pressing into his lap.

He suddenly had the urge to interrupt and astound Ginny with his natural male wisdom.

“Miss Caldwell, let me speak to Jill for a minute. Why don’t you just step out?” he suggested trying to show he had the situation under control.

“Mr. Arnold, I think it’s best if we’re both here to let Jill know what the next step is,” she leaned towards him in a way that said she liked him, and appreciated his support, but she had everything under control.

Tom felt a swelling of pride in his chest and it felt wonderful. He wanted to rub his chest against Ginny’s naked breasts, flashing on the image suddenly.

“Jill, you’re fired,” he blurted it out, “Miss Caldwell’s made it clear I think. We’re letting you go today, now, please, Jill, let Miss Caldwell show you to your desk, pack your things and then, you need to leave.”

He stood up with great authority and sheer male energy. The two of them looked rather surprised. The meeting was over. They got up to leave as well.

Ginny passed right by him, close, in that red suit, he could smell her perfume for real. He wanted her to come home with him and fire his wife and then make love to him and then do something with the baby – get a sitter – and then they could go to the movies, he never got to do that anymore. It was a perfect plan. Yes, it turned him on no end. And he noticed again, yes, she had a most lovely bottom.

The ladies left the room. That was that. And then he pretended to work, but he was looking out the window at the parking lot to see if Jill was dragging a cardboard box to her car. Finally, he saw her. Now he could call Ginny and have her come in and they could talk all about how it went.

He buzzed her and when she came in he had this brainstorm that since the whole thing was confidential, maybe they had better go “offsite” to discuss it – an excuse to take her to Starbucks.

Ginny was cool with this and they walked to Starbucks and he bought her a Caramel Frappacino with whipped cream. She said it looked good enough to eat. He thought Ginny was the thing that looked good enough to eat. He ordered a black coffee because he had the strange idea that his might make him seem tough and mysterious and make her like him even more.

They talked about work and finally, he took a big chance and came right out with it. He asked for what he wanted. He asked her to come home to his house and fire his wife. And she agreed. Ginny was so great, just the greatest girl in the whole world.

And later, he waited in his office as the day drained into grey, as he looked out his window, more people were leaving now, getting in their cars as the sun was setting on the far edge of the lonely parking lot. Ginny came to his office in her tight grey wool coat with the fur collar. He called it her princess coat in his mind. He’d always liked it on her. She smiled. She closed the door. She said she was so proud of him. It had been a rough day really, she said, but that he was just incredible to her. She asked him if she could kiss him, just to thank him. It was a small kiss at first, but then grew more passionate, until they were hotly entangled in one another’s arms, mouths, tongues.

He warmed up the car and when she got in, he watched the angle of her pretty legs, swiveling into the passenger seat, just right. Her black high heels were just sexy enough, and just business-like enough for work. “She can keep those on when we’re in bed,” the thought raced through his mind.

He cranked the samba music up high, and he could see her rocking her hips back and forth in a sexy way, as he pulled out of the corporate driveway on the way to his house. It was cold as hell out, but he felt great. In the car, he was sambaing with Ginny, on his way home to fire his wife. It was wonderful, just wonderful.