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“I’m not necessarily saying I have a huge cock,
but I do have two inseam measurements.” ~ B.S.

The Incomplete Worlds Of Billy Shakespeare | BillyShakespeare.com: It's like Shakespeare...only in English.

Who’s Gonna Read This, B.S.?

short short stories

"But Soft"
a story by Billy Shakespeare

Soft. That was the word to describe her. Soft like sweaters. Soft like a lover’s heartbeat.

Not that she was his lover. Not that she ever would be. But oh, to dream. To fantasize. To see it in his mind’s eye as she walked towards him. It was...sublime? Was that the right word? He searched his memory. Perhaps. “Pathetic” seemed more appropriate, though.

From his shabby desk he would watch for her. He was a slothful, abused creature, tapping a no. 2 pencil against the back of his hand, not even aware he was doing so. Occasionally he would glance upward through his open door and look for her among those milling about in the hallway. His office door afforded him a view of the entire hallway. His was the furthest office away from the glorious front entrance to the business office.

The furthest away.

The furthest thing from anyone’s mind or daily habits. Not even a water cooler or restroom nearby to facilitate casual contact with his coworkers. For some reason he found himself thinking back to childhood, chosen to play left field. Playing so far away he might as well have been playing from his bedroom. Thirty years older and he was still in left field.

He glanced upwards again, simultaneously pushing his thick black frames up against the bridge of his oily nose.

And then there she was.

The no. 2 pencil no longer beat against his hand, now it was jammed eraser-end into his mouth and clenched firmly there by powerful molars. He could hear her high heels clicking at a merry pace down the hall. It washed out the high-pitched buzz of his fluorescent office lights and seemed now a metronome for his own heartbeat.

The heartbeats seemed to stop along with her heels as he watched her chat gaily with a male coworker. A handsome male coworker. Naturally. He pulled the pencil slowly away from his mouth, and then twirled it in his fat, anxious fingers as he watched them down the hall. Watching them laugh and touch each other. Laugh, then touch. Then laugh.

And then he was touching her again. On the shoulder. On the arm. Coiling an arm around her small waist as they whispered like conspirators. What must it be like to be so close to her? To hold her attention that way.

So close to her. Nuzzling, almost. Whispering...what? I love you?

She was laughing again.

There was a sharp crack now that was not the sound of high heels; the fat man’s pencil now lay in two halves in his fists. He was staring out his open door as the handsome man began to twirl her around. Were they dancing? Didn’t she have any idea how insanely ---

They stopped and looked away from each other, sensing together they were being watched. They slowly turned their gaze toward the shabby office at the far end of the hall. Now they were both watching him, staring directly into his fat moon face. The handsome man in the hall pointed toward him, a manila folder in his strong, masculine hand. Pointing at the sad clown at the end of the hallway.

He leaned over to the beautiful woman, his nose brushing past her gorgeous flowing hair, leaning further still until his lips seemed closer to her ear than her own earrings. He whispered, no doubt in deep, masculine tones. He whispered. Soft resonance that vibrated gently into her ear, sending warmth throughout her body, a pleasant tickle that thrilled her like a lover’s sigh. He whispered to her.

She gazed upward to look down the long hallway, past the decorator-tiled floor, over the high-tech office machines and past the potted palms, through his scratched and marred office door into his grubby office with the stained and matted carpet, into the center of his chubby face, through the folds of flesh that surrounded his drab brown eyes, she stared into his very heart and soul and fantasies and dreams and hopes and all the he kept hidden inside from a very cruel world.

She looked, and laughed.

They both did.

Now the handsome man beside her was waving his folder up and down in an exaggerated gesture of waving hello.

And then they laughed harder still.

The fat man moved his gaze away from them now. His own gaze slid slowly down the hall, past machines and palms, through his own asylum of an office, over his desk and he looked to his hands.

It was then he noticed he had been waving back.

A head suddenly appeared in the doorway. “Bill,” said the head as the rest of the immaculately dressed body shifted into the doorway.

“Yes, sir?”

“I thought we talked about keeping this door shut.”

“Uh, yes...yes, sir. We did. It just gets a little stuffy, and...”

A well-manicured hand reached forward to the doorknob, taking great pains not to step foot inside. “Let’s keep it shut, okay, Bill? We have clients coming through here all the time.”

The office door closed with a firm, but soft, click.