Scissor Link Georgette Kaplan (best self help books to read .TXT) 📖

She moved to stand, but Regan took hold of her wrist. “I know you won’t believe me, but if I have to pick a best moment that isn’t Keith or the munchkin: it’s you. Smiling that way. So, try to make it last? For me?”

“It’ll last,” Wendy told her. “I don’t think I have a best moment, but I’m pretty sure it’s coming up.”

Score one for career women. Janet was known to take her lunch in her office, and commonly invited co-workers to quickly touch base on business. So it didn’t raise any suspicion for her and Wendy to dine together, given they were both working on a project.

“Grilled teriyaki chicken with romaine salad,” Janet announced, opening up the Tupperware. Wendy hadn’t noticed earlier, but Janet had a chessboard set-up along one side of her office, with a little table and two chairs and a view out the window. It was made to seduce impressionable young employees. Wendy couldn’t believe Janet hadn’t seduced one before. Was there a dearth of impressionable young employees at the company?

She held up her plate and Janet served her, before serving herself and sitting down at her end of the table, where the report Wendy had filed was cued up on a tablet. Wendy opened her mouth to say something, but Janet was already focused on the tablet, idly chewing—very politely—as she flitted through it. Wendy took a bite of her own meal. It tasted very…nutritious. In a good way, mind you, but that’s how it always started.

“You know, I could bring lunch sometime.”

Janet didn’t look up. “Would you make something or would you get burgers from Five Guys?”

“Burgers. But I would carefully sleuth out what you would like on yours, it wouldn’t have onions or anything.”

“I don’t like onions,” Janet confirmed.

“See? I know my stuff.”

Janet carefully cultivated a forkful of chicken and salad as she glanced up. “Are these specs accurate?”

“Absolutely.”

“We’re slower than the Helios.”

“We’re slower than the Helios’s specs,” Wendy countered. She spun the tablet sideways and leaned in to point out a column. “Manufacturers, they all like to tell fairy tales. No way that a bird with that load and that carriage makes that speed. Any engineer can tell you that.”

“So our bird is faster?”

“Absolutely. It’s the lightest, fastest thing out there. And if they ask you why it can’t level a building, just remind them that’s not its job.”

Janet’s lips teased a smile. “Very good. I don’t suppose you have the Helios’s actual specs?”

“I made some educated guesses in the attachment. It’s got a fat ass. The Army will order it, but not to do what our Hawkowl will do.”

“Fantastic,” Janet said, and bit into her meal with a moan like it just grew five times tastier.

Usually Wendy wore trainers with her slacks, but she wasn’t so butch that she couldn’t pull off pumps, stockings, even garters. And she hadn’t worn pumps with her pantsuit because Janet was a tall woman.

She slipped her stockinged foot out of her shoe. “You know, this is our lunch break.”

“Yes? So?”

“We’re not being paid to work. It wouldn’t be out of sorts for us to talk about something non-work-related.”

Janet had the poker face of Doc Holliday. “Such as?”

Wendy stretched her foot out and ran it along Janet’s calf, their stockings sliding together like Wendy imagined a livewire would sound. Instantly, Janet sat bolt-upright—as if her posture hadn’t been great before—with her eyes growing nearly as wide as the frames of her glasses. Her mouth flew open, though she didn’t actually squeak. It was a very squeaky kind of expression, though.

“You’re adorable!” Wendy laughed.

Janet picked up a napkin to dab at her lips. “I have not been referred to as such often.”

“You’re beautiful,” Wendy corrected herself. “You’re sensual. You’re effervescent.”

“Good word choice.”

“My sister’s married. Less drinking games, more Scrabble.” Wendy stirred her salad. “Look, I’m not saying we have to necessarily…”

Janet leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table and steepling her hands below her chin. “Yes?”

Wendy flushed. She licked her lips. She recovered. “Well, there being a lady present, I won’t say. But it involves a moderately smaller version of that bathysphere you got me.”

“All right, bathysphere? Now you’re going too far.”

“Withdrawn. My point is, we can just talk about stuff. Our—insert scare-quotes if you want—relationship.”

“Mm.” Janet put her thumb at the corner of her lip. “I have been wanting to talk some things over with you.”

“All right.” Wendy clapped her hands. “Hit me.”

“You’re very good at inviting emotional intimacy,” Janet said dryly.

“It’s what I do.”

“Well, it’s not some gothic family secret or anything.” Janet tapped the tines of her fork delicately against her plate. “It does have to do with intimacy, sexual intimacy, but I’m sure we can be open and honest and mature about that.”

“Absolutely,” Wendy agreed, crossing her fingers.

“It’s just that, I noticed in your fantasizing about me, and in the phone call that you responded to so dramatically—”

“Are we having a conversation or are you issuing a press release?”

Janet canted her head. “Ms. Cedar, I’m sure you’re aware that if I went into indelicate detail, I’d have to worry about you lunging across this table.”

Wendy gulped, feeling suddenly too gay for this conversation. She needed a translator or something. Someone who’d gotten laid recently, and not with a glove. “Point taken.”

“Now then,” Janet continued, sounding much more centered. “I’ve noticed that what you respond to tends to be…kinky.”

Wendy laughed. “Is that a problem? I mean, c’mon—” She waved her hand around. “Office. Fucked me. We’ve been over this.”

“Yes. Indelibly. But…with Roberta…many of these sorts of things have the participants talking about what they fantasize about, planning scenarios…”

“Yeah, I get that, I read Fifty Shades of Grey too, well, I read people making fun of Fifty Shades of Grey, but it’s not like we’re pouring candle wax on each other or anything. We’re just having fun.”

“I’d still like to know what your preferences entail.”

Wendy grinned at her. “This is you trying to get me to send you