Déjà Vu - Part One

I felt like I was back in high school. It all started when I decided to start bringing my lunch to work, rather than go out to eat every day. It was part of a health kick combined with an austerity program; my stomach was getting fatter and my wallet was getting thinner as I tended to frequent restaurants that featured all of the wrong foods at rather ridiculous prices. The personal results were astounding. As people started to notice how much fitter I was looking, word spread. Pretty soon there were a bunch of us eating in together on a regular basis, taking over an entire cafeteria size table every day. Unfortunately, it was probably inevitable that what the men at the table wanted to talk about: sports, cars, politics, women; and what the women wanted to talk about: clothes, celebrities, books, other women; diverged to the point where we ended up with a ?boys? table and a ?girls? table. It was lunchtime on a Monday when one of the IT people, Chari, came in. All heads turned to stare at her. Chari was a youngish looking woman; my best guess was that she was in her early- to mid-twenties. She had worked IT and the help desk on the ?swing shift?, so almost no one in the room really knew her but me; I having had to work with her on more than one occasion due to after-hours connectivity issues. She had just been transferred to the ?day shift? when all of this took place. She was dressed like a typical ?techie? of either sex working for us; an over-sized ?hoodie? to cope with the cold in the server room, navy Dickey?s work pants to deal with having to climb under desks, and clunky safety work shoes. She had short unpolished fingernails, wore no make-up to speak of, and her auburn hair was tied back in no real particular fashion. She carried her lunch in a paper sack. There was an open seat at the ?girls? table, but when she approached the women seated there ?closed ranks?. I couldn?t tell if it was her age (the women were all older), her occupation (a ?non-professional?), her look (?grunge vs. business dress) or a combination of these, but it was clear that she was not welcome at ?their? table. Dejected, she took a seat alone at an empty table, ate quickly, and left. Like I said; high-school déjà vu. The same thing happened Tuesday. On Wednesday, when she came in and got the cold shoulder, I invited her to sit with the ?boys?. She seemed a little embarrassed, Bostancı Escort and politely turned down the offer. But when Thursday came, and she was still being frozen out, she accepted my invitation. She just kind of sat there and ate in silence, but I could tell that she appreciated the company. On Friday, she didn?t even try to sit at the girls table; she came directly over to the boys table and sat next to me. As it turned out, she was quite the football fanatic, and fit right in. Things got a little boisterous, but she was right in the thick of it. Then, just as lunch was over, one of the women came over; Karen, a rather snarky PA who was the ?head cheerleader? equivalent, and said just loud enough for Chari to hear, ?It?s nice to see that she is eating with her own kind.? Chari turned to Karen. ?What is that supposed to mean?? Karen looked her up and down, then said, ?Well, you are one of the ?boys?, aren?t you?? The clear implication was that she thought that Chari was a lesbian. For a second, I thought that Chari was going to deck her. Instead, she just grabbed her stuff and stormed out. Karen, all smug, turned and said to the group, as if in justification, ?Well, you didn?t hear her deny it, did you?? All of her toadies nodded in agreement. ?Hold on there, Karen,? I said, ?exactly what are you accusing Chari of?? ?C?mon Bill; the clothes, the hair, no make-up. Hell, she knows more about football than all of you guys put together. You get the picture. She plays for your team, not ours.? Now, I?m no crusader, but this was quite a harsh bit of pre-judgment. To say nothing of a direct violation of company policy. The kind of crap that gets a company sued. I dumped my trash and went straight to HR. Within the hour, Karen was called in to her manager?s office, and then the two went upstairs to HR. When they came back down, both of them glared at me, and Karen left for the day. As usual, I ended up working later than the official 4:30 quitting time. In fact, it was about 6:30, and I was pouring over a ridiculously complicated spreadsheet, when I felt a presence hovering over me. I looked up, and there was Chari. ?Hey,? I said, ?what?s up? I thought you were on the day shift now.? ?I am, but I?ve got a problem. My car won?t start.? ?Is it the battery? I can give you a jump.? ?No, it isn?t the battery. Bostancı Escort Bayan The engine turns over okay, but it?s like there?s no gas even though I have a full tank. Anyway, I called the auto club, but they can?t get here for an hour. I?m really nervous about waiting alone in the parking garage, and I was wondering if you could check on me every once and awhile until they get here.? I thought about how much I?d get done if I had to leave the building every ten minutes to run out to the parking garage, and I was about to tell her that I was too busy; but then I saw the same dejected look on her face that I saw when she was being shunned by her fellow female co-workers. ?Listen,? I said, ?I?m ready to wrap it up here anyway. Let me shut this program down, get my stuff together and I?ll just wait with you.? The smile that lit up her face when I said that could have melted an iceberg. We walked to the parking garage in silence. Once there, she led me to what looked like a 1966 or 1967 Ford Galaxie fastback in the late stages of being restored; all it needed was paint and wheels. ?Nice ride,? I said. ?Did you do the work?? ?I did the interior,? she explained, ?my Dad did the engine, and we?re both doing the body work.? ?Mind if I take a peek under the hood?? She reached into the custom grill, popped the release, and lifted the hood. The engine compartment was cleaner and more squared away than an operating room, and was occupied by a modified big-block engine with just the right amount of chrome. ?I know why the car won?t start. Look, here, someone cut the distributor wire.? I held up the cut line, which clearly was fresh as there was no way that she could have driven to work that morning otherwise. ?Shit! How the hell did that happen?? She was pissed, and I had a pretty good idea how, but I kept my mouth shut. ?Well, at least it?s something that my Dad can fix. I guess we just wait now for the tow truck.? She opened the passenger door for me. ?Care for a seat?? I slid in onto the passenger side of a bench seat that had been re-upholstered in leather that felt as smooth and soft as butter, closing the door as she got in on the driver side. ?Thanks for waiting with me. I guess this is the second time that you?ve gone out of your way for me today.? ?What do you mean?? ?I know it was you that went Escort Bostancı to HR about Karen. Did you know that they almost fired her? She ended up with a week off without pay, and she lost her year-end bonus. What?s really funny is that what she was implying, that I am a lesbian; well, what she doesn?t tell anyone is that she has been hitting on me since the day I came to work here. I kept turning her down, and I guess she thought that I was in denial. I think she was trying to ?out? me, or else was mad that I turned her down.? ?Wow, that?s bizarre. What made her think you were gay to begin with?? ?Well, you know, the clothing, the job, the fact that I act like a tom-boy, even my car. I guess she just assumed it all added up, and then thought that I was lying to her when I told her that I wasn?t. Which I?m not, by the way; in case you were wondering.? Then she blurted out something that floored me. ?Not that I?ve ever had any real sex with a boy, ... er, man, either. I just know that when I do have sex, it will be with someone of the opposite sex.? ?First; I wasn?t wondering. Second; you?re what, twenty three, twenty four, and you?ve never had sex?? ?Not with anyone but myself,? she blushed. ?Okay, once, sort of; but, it wasn?t really sex and didn?t involve any of my ?lady-parts?. Look, I was pretty chunky and pretty nerdy in middle-school and high school. And, like I said, I am a tom-boy. And even when I got into college, I was still nerdy, and hung out with the computer nerds and gamers. FYI, the stereo-type of men gamers is true; they have no idea what to do with a live girl.? Then she said, ?It?s getting hot in here. Do you mind if I take this hoodie off?? ?No, go ahead. I don?t see how you can stand wearing them all day, every day.? ?It?s almost like a uniform,? she said, facing away from me as she crossed her arms and reached down, grabbing the hem, and then pulled it up and over her head. She pulled her arms out of the sleeves and threw it in the back seat, then let down her hair. She turned back around to face me, and I was speechless. I was expecting to still see some sort of frumpy looking nerd. I did not. Under the sweatshirt she was wearing a t-shirt with some sort of saying on it, but I was too busy looking at the pair of 36B tits that were underneath; firm and bra-less. I focused a little higher, and for the first time, I guess, really looked at her face; flashing emerald green eyes, a peaches complexion with a hint of freckling on her nose, all framed in her reddish locks. She was actually quite pretty. I looked back at her breasts again. She noticed where I was gazing, and started to try to tell me what the saying was on the shirt.