Office Policy

Kurapica started to like the pose, over the desk chair. She left him like a rag doll more and more often. He’d wave limply as she left. He’d tilt his head and watch as she buttoned her skirt. He nodded when she spoke, and when she asked he looked away while she changed her underwear.
Kurapica found herself stopping at a storefront that afternoon. There was lacy things inside, gorgeous things. Things with stripes. Things with bows.
Lingere, she thought, picking at the strap of her purse. Machine stitched, designed far away, imported, and industrial. They were pretty things made of light gauzy cloth, netting, and thin cotton that she was afraid to stitch herself.
At forty dollars a pop, she couldn’t afford them. But she had never before been so keenly interested.

At home, she made pasta from scratch. She brought the bowl, with butter, parmesan and salt, out to the living room. There were no chairs yet, but a heirloom hook rug, and she sat on that. She was naked but for panties and a tee shirt, and quite comfortable. She liked her body.
Her laptop buzzed on to the log-in screen, waiting for her password.
Kurapica ate while she did some research online, but she had to take a break. And when she took the break, she got distracted.
“Petite…” she typed into the search field with the end of her fork.
Pictures came up. Little girls like her. Sweet stores somewhere far off with little models and scraps of cloth hung over them.
Kurapica scrolled down, embarrassed and fascinated, biting her lip.
She ordered a bralette that night with flower-chain straps that was on sale. She couldn’t afford the panties yet, but it would match all the white ones she already owned.
She went back to her research, blushing.

The next Monday, Kurapica put her hands on his chest. “I wanted to say thank you, Leorio. You’re amazing. No one else would ever have been this kind.”
“Oh. I’m sure…I mean, you deserve every – all the help you need. You’re a great person.”
It stopped her dead for a moment. He obviously didn’t know her very well. But that wasn’t the point; she knew him. She had been completely vulnerable before him. She’d put her career, reputation, her body and self in his hands. And he hadn’t troubled her with so much as a rumor or a rude comment. He was the best man she’d ever met.
“I don’t want to impose, Leorio, but may I kiss you? It’s only to say thanks; I just feel like I want you to know that I completely…I completely admire you.”
He nodded, wordless, and did not shut his eyes. And he let her do whatever she wanted.
His lips were hot. Not feverish, but more than she expected. She’d known he was a man, but she’d forgotten that he was a person.
She pulled away. “Thank you.”
He hardly moved. But then he put his hand on the back of her neck, then up into her hair. Supporting her head, he kissed her again, this time with his eyes shut. So tame.
She felt like she was dozing inside the jaws of a lion.
“Leorio. What was that?”
“You’re welcome.”


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