Falling in Love by Stephen Bradlee

just asked me to print out her documents. On Friday, after the secretarial supervisor signed my time card, I skipped my way to the elevator. I even knew what a brief was! Lawyer slang for a Memorandum of Law. I was a legal secretary, a working member of society. I knew that somehow, some way, I was going to make it.
    I got paid the following Tuesday. I called Dede and offered to buy her a drink out of my newly-earned legal-secretarial wages. We agreed to meet at a swank Upper Westside restaurant. But I got on the wrong train and arrived late. Dede was perched on a bar stool dressed in a low-cut blouse and a skirt that slid well above her knees when she crossed her legs. The empty stool beside her was evidently reserved for me because, although several men in suits hovered around her, none had attempted to sit there. Dede shared smiles with each of them, as if unable to choose between such a wealth of manhood.
    When she saw me, she cried, “Sherry, over here!” The men parted to form a path to the empty stool and I took my place beside Dede. “What are you drinking?” Dede asked.
    “Mineral water,” I replied. I didn’t want to begin my career as a bona fide New York secretary mouthing excuses for being late and hung over. Moderation had never been my strong suit so I decided to give temperance a try.
    “You sure?” I nodded. “Mick? An Evian, please,” Dede called out to the bartender who was shaking a cocktail. “Put it on my tab,” Dede laughed, and three men leaned over the bar armed with cash.
    Wearing only simple slacks and a sweater, I wasn’t decked out like Dede, whose skirt seemed to slide up even more when she turned to me but the men still smiled eagerly at me so I guess I passed some kind of test. After glancing around the bar, I noticed that the guys greatly outnumbered the girls and I figured that anyone remotely resembling a female would have passed that same test.
    Dede gave me a look and leaned over to me, “You okay? Anything the matter?”
    “I just thought that we would be having a drink together, and that I was buying.”
    Dede smiled and whispered, “We can go out for a bite afterward and we can talk then. But, hey, why pay when you don’t have to. Living in New York is too expensive to not enjoy a few freebies when they come our way.”
    For the next hour, Dede swapped stories with the guys, expertly playing one off against another. A couple of guys edged up to me and tried a few lines, some sincere, some not so sincere, but I acted like I was fascinated by Dede’s every word. Drinking water gave me some kind of new resolve and I was surprised at how easy it was to fend off guys when I was sober. I wondered if I didn’t drink anymore that somehow I might not only rid myself of hangovers but also rid myself of waking up besides nameless guys.
    Finally, Dede announced that she and I had to leave for an engagement. A tall good-looking guy teasingly blocked her exit. “Not until I get you phone number.”
    “I tell you what,” Dede said to them all. “Give me your cards and I’ll throw them into a hat. The lucky winner gets to buy me dinner this weekend.”
    The guys groaned as if knowing she was lying, even as they did quick draws for their cards. Armed with their names and occupations, Dede lead me outside.
    “Are you really going to call one?” I asked Dede as she put them into her purse.
    She laughed. “Get serious. I just don’t want to dump them into the corner trashcan. They’ll be looking for that.”
    I shook my head in amazement.
    “Hey, flirting is good for you, Sherry. Keeps the juices flowing. You should do more of it. But life is all about who you go home with and wrap your legs around. I’ve already got my guy. We’re going to make movies all day and fuck all night.”
    Dede circled a couple of corners to make sure that none of her admirers were tailing us. Then she headed down Ninth Avenue, explaining that we could do Chinese, Indian or burgers on a budget. I