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Sandy on a Platter


I really can’t wait until Mario finally comes through on his promise to get me Caller I.D. I really need it – like, right now. I’m 99.9% sure that if I answer the call ringing on my line, it will be my mother and I’ll have to make up some excuse to cut short our chat. But there’s always that chance…that emergency call, mayor on the line, City Hall is on fire chance that if I don’t pick up, I’ll be in trouble. And if I get in trouble, that means Mario will be in trouble, and the last thing I want to do is get my boss in trouble. And definitely not now, the way things are going around here. If Danny got rid of Calvin so easily – a devoted City employee for the last 13 years – he’d surely welcome the chance to fire Mario.

So, I have no choice but to answer my line with the friendly lilt in my voice that Mario encouraged me to use when I first started. “City of Buena Beach, Department of Parks & Beaches, Recreation Division – this is Sandy. How can I help you?”

“Darling, you sound so tired. Have you been taking your ginseng like I told you?”

“Yes,” I lie as I open up a new window in my e-mail to ask Mario to expedite my Caller I.D. request.

“Maybe you should increase your dosage. It sounds like you’ve lost your pep. Mario isn’t working you too hard over there, is he?”

Send, with priority designation. “No, mom. Everything is fine.” Leaning back in my chair, I catch a glimpse of Mario himself, walking towards me. Perfect timing.

“This may have just been a fluke with me, but have you noticed any change in your bowels since starting the ginseng? I’m not as regular as I used to be but the consistency seems to have…”

I mouth Mario’s name before he takes a right turn towards the men’s room. He knows the drill, nodding his head when I point to the phone and clearly articulate, “No mom. The ginseng doesn’t seem to have affected my system.”

Mario clears his throat loudly, leaning into my cubicle. “Excuse me, Sandy. We need you over here on a conference call. It starts in thirty seconds.” He winks at me before taking a seat on the edge of my desk. I hate when he invades my personal space like this. At least here. He’s so close, I can practically taste his cologne. It’s the one I gave him for Christmas last year. And what a coincidence – I’m wearing the bra and panties that he gave me for Christmas last year.

I end the call, then thank Mario with a gracious smile, which today is covered with Cinnamon Honey Sparkle lip gloss. He’s about to say something to me when we both hear the rumble of his mobile phone vibrating from his belt clip. I was 99.9% sure my call was from my mother, but I’m 100% sure his call is from…

“Cynthia. What’s up, babe? — Uh, probably about 6:30. — Sweetie, you know that’s my favorite. Looking forward to it. — It’s cool, I know you get bored all day. — Love you too. — Bye.”

My palms are sweating, I realize. And my heart is beating fast. I try my best to hide any envy or resentment when I ask, “Fettuccine Alfredo tonight?”

“Shoot, almost every night. Damn, you’d think she’d mix things up a bit.”

“Well, maybe you should tell her your real favorite meal.”

Mario nudges me until I look up at him. “What…hot, butt-naked Sandy on a platter?”

I giggle. He’s so silly. “No. I was going to say sashimi. But, maybe you’re right.” I look down again, embarrassed. This flirting at work is so awkward. I’ve gotten so used to pretending the two of us are nothing more than staff and supervisor that I just about lose it when he drops his suggestive comments on me.

“Speaking of sashimi, you want to go to Teppan House after work? And then, we can stop by your place for some…dessert,” he asks, licking his little lips.

“You just told Cynthia you’d be home for your little Italian feast.”

“Ahh, she’s used to me getting home late. And I’ve got a fast metabolism. I can afford to eat twice. Besides, you’ll be helping me burn off those extra calories, won’t you?”

If it wasn’t already, I’m certain my face is a fiery red by now. What the heck is he thinking? I poke my head out of my cubicle to see if any other staff are nearby. “Yes, yes. Okay,” I tell him, hushed, just to get him to hurry up and get on with his afternoon.

“Alright, I’ll meet you there at 5:45. Hope you’re wearing a thong,” he tells me as he leaves.

I swear, he must get off on stressing me out. I’m sure he could care less if we get caught. He has a bunch of college degrees, money in the bank, and a tight friendship with the mayor. Plus, his wife comes from money. He’s set. But me? This is the best job I’ve ever had. I’ve got benefits and everything. If Danny ever found out about us…I’d just die.

It sucks to be in love with your boss.

Shoot. Here goes my phone again. It’s now after 3:00. With Oprah on right now, I’m 99.9% sure it isn’t my mom, so I have no qualms about answering it on the first ring.

“City of Buena Beach, Department of Parks & Beaches, Recreation Division – this is Sandy. How can I help you?”

“Hey, girl. It’s Cynthia. What’s going on?”

Shoot. Play it cool. “Not much. What are you doing?”

“Oh, just cooking dinner. I’m making Mario’s favorite – fettuccine alfredo.”

“Yum. Sounds good.”

“And you know it. I’m also going to make a Caesar’s salad, bruschetta, crusted scallops, and a hot fudge cake. Do you think that’s too much?”

“Not at all,” I tell her. “And make sure he eats every last bite.”

Created by Diane Brown, Buena Beach is an online soap opera, giving up all the juicy details of some of the hottest guys and gals of Buena Beach, a small town in Southern California. Check back everyday for a new episode here on

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