Sally Has Worms

   I never really knew Sally. I was always kind of shy around her. She was an attractive blond with light blue eyes and pouty pink lips. Her frayed and faded denims did little to conceal the contours of her perfectly shaped ass, and even in her over-sized work shirt it was apparent that the buttons were perilously close to popping as they strained against the contents of the white cotton sports bra underneath. Sally was pretty. Sally was built.

  When Sally walked, one could not help but notice the gentle bobbing of her breasts. When Sally bent over, no one could look away. When Sally smiled, the room seemed to light up. When Sally spoke, she was smart, funny and very friendly, but after looking at her too long, after listening to her sultry voice, after mentally tracing the shape of her mouth, we never seemed to remember anything she had just said.

  Sally was hot. Sally was sexy, but I tried not to notice. I had little contact with her:  just the obligatory hellos and goodbyes and hey, how are you doings that you would share with any other co-worker…but I wanted her.

  Of course, keeping in mind that I had just started the job and I had wished to keep it, I did my best to treat Sally as “one of the guys”.

  That’s not exactly true. I was also very shy, and not very confident, so I had my own flaws which kept me from really getting to know Sally. Even if I abandoned my work ethic and conquered my idiosyncrasies, I would still have to contend with the jealousy and/or disapproval of my peers.

   I do not know when the rumor started. I do not know how long it had been going on. I do not know the motivations behind the prank. I only know what I was told, and I did not trust the tellers of the story.

  I used to think in terms of black and white, that there were truths and non-truths, but nothing in between. I used to believe that I could trust my friends, but even good people can do very bad things, very hurtful things, very cruel things, when opportunity rears its ugly head.

  The job was hellish. I was running three injection molders for a subsidiary of a large bottle manufacturer. I was on the night shift, the second hour in to my twelve hour shift. I had ten hours to go, and I was already dying from the heat.