Member-only story
It was a Thursday. I was at the office. All alone again. During this pandemic and sweltering heatwaves of the summer, working from the office alone actually provided both cool central air (as opposed to our poorly air conditioned apartment) and much valued quiet, alone time, conducive to creativity and, if necessary, work. Ms. Gale was working from home. My other employees were working remotely as well. I was under the impression that Lo, too, was working from home. That is, until I received an email from her.
It’s unusual for me to get an email from Lo. Text, phone call, even the unexpected in-person appearance for a booty-call are all to be expected. But rarely an email. Unless something is wrong, or the landlady has written to her demanding the rent, asking for a favor, or passing along complaints from the neighbors about the volume levels, frequency, and inconvenient late hours of Lo’s orgasmic operatic arias.
But this email was different.
“Guess where I am,” it read, enigmatically.
“At home, doing work,” I replied, unimaginatively.
“Nope.”
“Is this Twenty Questions, or can I just ask, where are you?”
“I’m in the park.”
It was another sunny, hot as hell day in the city.