Not Safe for Work by L. A. Witt

couldn’t find it. Much like Calvin and your poor excuse for a boyfriend.”
    “There’s something there, that’s all I know,” I said. “Call it a G-spot, call it whatever you want. There’s something there that means the difference between peeling a woman off the ceiling and sending her into orbit.” And then there’s the male G-spot… The image of Rick coming apart while I’d fucked him just right sent a pleasant shudder through me.
    Teagan cleared her throat. I glanced at her, and her eyebrow arched. I’m watching you. What aren’t you telling us?
    I shifted my gaze back to my screen.
    “Well, I’d say it’s settled,” Scott said. “Even the old guy can find it. Therefore, the G-spot is real. I told you guys.”
    “Hmm.” Bianca glared at her computer screen for a moment. Then her eyes flicked up to meet mine. “So how do I get my boyfriend to find it?”
    Teagan snickered. “Sweetie, Tim can’t even find his wallet or keys half the time without your help. I think you may have to find it and then direct him to it.”
    “He’s not that bad.”
    “Yes, he is.”
    “Oh, come on, he’s—”
    “Bianca,” I said. “Tim’s a great guy and all, but come on. He literally couldn’t find his car in the middle of a deserted parking lot in broad fucking daylight.”
    “Ha, I remember that.” Teagan barely suppressed her laughter. “And let’s not forget about the—”
    “Okay, okay, I get it,” Bianca muttered.
    “So, McNeill,” Scott said, still clicking away at his mouse as he spoke. “You find anybody’s G-spot this weekend?”
    Teagan eyed me, raising that pierced eyebrow again. My blood turned cold, but before I could panic, Cal groaned, reminding me who Scott was actually referring to.
    I chuckled. “Are you kidding? Found it the very first time.”
    “Shut up,” Cal growled. “Both of you.”
    “Really?” Scott said. “Wasn’t hard to find?”
    “Not in the least.”
    “McNeill, Harper, I’m going—”
    “And let me tell you,” I said, “I have never known a woman who was so prone to female ejac—”
    A tape dispenser flew past my head and knocked a few books off the shelf behind me. I put up my hands and met Cal’s glare with a poor attempt at an innocent look. “What?”
    “I mean it, McNeill. Shut. Up .”
    I laughed and went back to checking my e-mail. A benign group message from Rick made my blood pressure jump, but I played it cool and didn’t let on to the people around me. Not that they would have picked up on it, especially not while Scott was explaining the particulars and mysteries of female ejaculation to Bianca, punctuating his dissertation with references to me fucking Cal’s mom. Cal groaned and held his ears.
    They didn’t have a clue who I was really sleeping with, and all I could do was grin to myself.
    I concentrated on my work as much as I could. I was aware of the others cracking jokes and throwing the occasional office supply, but didn’t pay any attention. I just tuned my senses to the blaring music and let my mind go someplace far quieter. Not that it needed much encouragement. From the moment I’d woken up this morning with my body still aching, and I’d realized the weekend hadn’t been a dream, I hadn’t been able to forget it.
    Whenever it slipped from the forefront of my mind, something dragged it right back into the center of my consciousness. The collar of my shirt brushing my neck right where his lips and breath had done so last night. Bianca’s perfume, glue fumes, coffee and every smell that wasn’t Rick’s cologne or our mingling sweat—everything made my senses seek out what they couldn’t find.
    An hour or so into my shift, I wandered down to the supply room with a list of crap I needed to continue with the model. Though our communal room was huge, it had been too crowded with all the tool chests, boxes, crates and rolls of various materials that Teagan and I used on a regular basis, so when the accounting department