Title: Pleasing the Client
Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Queer as Folk. It belongs to Showtime and Cowlip.
Let it be said that Cynthia loved her job.
She really did. In spite of the stress it sometimes included. In spite of how busy it kept her.
Even in spite of her slightly deranged boss.
Cynthia sighed as she hung up the phone. Speak of her deranged boss...
Brian Kinney had just called to inform her that he wouldn't be coming in today due to "a fucking serious emergency." Right. She wasn't stupid. With one Mr. Justin Taylor having just returned from Hollywood, and the fact that she could hear the blond giggling in the background, plus the occasional gasps and hisses from Brian demanding that Justin leave him alone...well...it didn't take a genius.
She snorted. Brian Kinney was the only person she knew who considered a raging hard-on a "serious emergency," not to mention actually took off work for it...
Like she said. Deranged boss.
Well, some people didn't have the leisure of staying home and having sex all day. Some people actually had to work. Those people had an upcoming presentation for Brown Athletics to worry about. And she had received specific instructions that she and Ted were to execute that particular presentation. "And if you're not sure how," Brian had said, "just ask yourself...'what would Brian Kinney do?'...and do it." Then there had been some comment about telling "Theodore" not to try and be sexy, however, as it was guaranteed to fail.
Cynthia continued to work diligently on other tasks until eleven-thirty, when the meeting with Mr. Brown was scheduled to take place. When he arrived, she led the man, along with a beautiful young brunette that had accompanied him, to the conference room, where Ted was already waiting.
She grimaced as she sat down, spotting the crimson apple clutched tightly in Ted's hand. Maybe Brian had had a point about the whole "acting sexy" thing. It just didn't work the same for Ted as it did with Brian. But five minutes later they were well into the pitch, and Ted had at least managed not to drop the apple this time.
Ten minutes in, Cynthia began to notice something very strange. The pretty young brunette sitting opposite her, to be precise. If she didn't know better, Cynthia would say the woman was trying to...no, it couldn't be. Obviously she'd been spending too much time around Brian lately. Not everyone was gay, she reminded herself.
She turned her attention firmly back to Ted, who was conversing with Mr. Brown over one of the boards they had prepared.
"...a size smaller font would work nicely, in my opinion..." Brown was saying. Ted said something in reply, but Cynthia dared a glance back at the young woman, and whatever he had said fell on deaf ears.
The woman...what was her name? Brown had introduced her... She had twisted a lock of hair around her finger, blinking almost—flirtatiously—at Cynthia.
Okay, the expression "what the fuck?" seemed like a good one here.
Cynthia cleared her throat and fixed her gaze firmly back on Ted. The board. Anything but the woman.
"...the color scheme works well..."
Color scheme...well...Michelle!
Cynthia was surprised at the sudden silent outburst in her brain, only grateful that at least she hadn't said it out loud. Michelle, that was the girl's name. Michelle Carson. Cynthia looked back at her. If only the brunette wasn't biting her lip like that and making her eyes go that big and round, maybe Cynthia could remember what it was she actually did, too...
"Well, then, I think we've seen enough. I'll consider it and get back to you."
Cynthia looked around in surprise as suddenly Mr. Brown was standing up, the young woman following suit. She hadn't even realized how long they'd been sitting there. Or even how the presentation had gone. Shit. Brian had left her clear instructions that under no circumstances was she to leave everything up to Theodore.
Cynthia stood too, shaking Mr. Brown's then Michelle Carson's hand.
"Nice to meet you," Michelle said kindly, grasping onto Cynthia's hand a fraction of a second longer than she had with Ted's.
"Nice to meet you, too," Cynthia replied numbly, barely conscious of what she was saying.
"Would you mind showing me where the restrooms are?" Michelle asked quietly. Her gaze leveled with Cynthia's, and then the blond saw it. That same dark, feral look of desire that Brian so often received from potential clients. That "come-hither-and-fuck-me" look.
Oh, shit.
"Right...right down the hall. Third door on the left," Cynthia answered, nodding in the general direction of the aforementioned restrooms.
"Thanks," said Michelle, winking at her as she tossed her curly hair over her shoulder and strode out of the room with Mr. Brown.
"What are you waiting for?"
Ted's voice brought Cynthia out of her pretty-brunette-induced trance as she watched the gentle sway of the woman's hips as she sidled down the hallway.
"Wha—?"
"That's your cue!" Ted said insistently, waving frantically in the direction Michelle had departed.
"What are you—?"
"Christ! And you call yourself Brian Kinney's employee. Have you learned nothing?"
Cynthia's eyes went wide. "I can't..."
"Why the fuck not?"
"I'm not even—" Cynthia began.
"That's never stopped Brian!" Ted pointed out. That was true. Predetermined sexual orientation had never stopped Brian from fucking anyone.
Cynthia let out a breath. "Okay," she said. "Okay... I can do this."
"Hurry up!"
Ted gave her a rough push towards the doorway, and, stumbling a little, Cynthia hurried towards the bathroom she had directed Michelle to. Brian's words earlier that morning came back to her. What Brian would do...what Brian would do...what Brian would...
She opened the door to find Michelle at the porcelain sink, her hands immersed in shiny, soapy bubbles that played in rainbow colors from the light above them. Cynthia took up position at the sink next to her, pretending to fix her make-up in the mirror, sparing occasional glances in the other woman's direction.
"That was some presentation," Michelle said after a moment, finishing up at the sink and snatching a paper towel from the dispenser. "Only..."
"Only what?" Cynthia managed to ask.
Michelle gave a twisted smile. "Only it should have been you up there. Instead of that Schmidt guy."
Cynthia raised an eyebrow. "Really? You think?"
Michelle nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely. If Kinnetic is going for the sexual approach, they should at least have a sexy person pitching the campaigns."
Okay, now Cynthia was certain beyond all doubt that Michelle was flirting with her. She cleared her throat and forced herself to speak.
"Well, I have pitched a few campaigns in the past. But Mr. Kinney...our boss...is trying to train a few more of us to take over things in his absences," she explained, hardly aware of what she was saying. Her focus had been severely compromised by the tube of ruby red lipstick, the same color as Ted's apple, she noted dimly, that was sliding back and forth across Michelle's rather full, pouty lips. Suddenly, the unbidden image of those lips, that mouth, biting into an apple the same color as her lipstick found its way into Cynthia's mind, and she shoved it firmly away.
"Hmm. He should stick with the tried and true methods," Michelle said, her voice barely over a throaty whisper that Cynthia should not have found nearly so erotic.
Then suddenly the tube of lipstick was being tucked back into Michelle's purse and the woman herself was coming towards her, the click of her heels echoing on the tiled bathroom floor.
Cynthia's breath caught as Michelle stopped right in front of her, and she repressed a shiver when the woman reached up and touched the corner of her mouth with a single slender finger.
"You have a little lipstick there," she said, so low Cynthia could barely hear her. Then she forgot about hearing and breathing and, fuck, thinking, as Michelle leaned in close, her warm breath ghosting over the lipstick-marked spot.
This time, she actually did shiver, as the woman's tongue replaced her breath, and all kinds of tingles erupted everywhere. And then the tongue was sliding to the right, brushing over her lips and slipping between them to curl against her own tongue. What would Brian do...what would Brian do...what the fuck would Brian do...?
As if answering her question, Cynthia's body seemed to take over, and suddenly she was leading whatever-the-fuck her name was to the nearest bathroom stall and slamming the door shut.
There was a brief struggle for dominance as what's-her-name pinned the blond woman against the door, darting down to her collarbone and back up to leave wet kisses on her neck. And for a moment, Cynthia just stood and enjoyed it, before reminding herself that Brian most certainly would not do that, and shoved the pretty brunette against the wall.
But Mary or Maria or whatever the fuck she called herself didn't seem content just to be completely passive, either, and within seconds Cynthia's suit was torn open...probably missing a few buttons, she thought bitterly, and that thing wasn't cheap...and the other woman was tearing hungrily at the shirt underneath.
Another ten seconds, and Cynthia's lacy black Victoria's secret bra had been snapped open, her shirt pulled over her chest, and Minny's mouth had closed around her nipple. Cynthia took the opportunity to push the woman's own suit off her shoulders, tearing at the buttons, tugging at the shirt beneath. She had never unhooked another woman's bra before, and wondered fleetingly how difficult it could be as her fingers fumbled behind the brunette's back. But her fingers weren't finding disruption of smooth, flawless skin, weren't finding anything resembling the clasp of the brassiere she was searching for... and that was when Cynthia realized...
She wasn't wearing one.
And fuck, that idea should not have turned her on as much as it did.
Her hair was tousled. Her lipstick was smudged. Her clothes were a mess, when Cynthia emerged from the bathroom several minutes later. She and Megan didn't say a word to each other as they quickly parted directions.
She sat down gingerly at her desk, trying to fight the blush she knew was staining her cheeks, though no one was around and no one had even entered the bathroom the whole time they'd been in there.
Christ, had she really just...
With a woman?
"So..."
Cynthia glanced up at the sound of Ted's drawling voice. He leaned against her desk, smirking, and she arched an eyebrow at him.
He gave her a prompting look. "Well...did you?"
Cynthia cleared her throat again awkwardly, sitting up in her chair in the most dignified position she could muster. "I secured the account," she said simply, and Ted's devilish grin broadened. He clapped her on the shoulder.
"I knew you had it in you," he said. "Or should I say...had her in you..."
"Fuck off, Schmidt," she said, glaring at him despite the grin she was currently fighting off.
Ted wiped a pretend tear from his eye, putting a hand over his heart. "Brian would be so proud."
"I doubt that," said a cool voice, and Ted and Cynthia looked up in surprise.
"Brian?"
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
Brian Kinney shrugged, leaning a shoulder casually against the wall. "My emergency's been taken care of."
Ted snorted. "More like your emergency refused to skip work and left you all alone."
Brian frowned at him. "Have I mentioned you're not getting a bonus this year?"
Ted ignored him. "Well, Brian, you would have been proud of Cynthia here today..."
Cynthia gave him a look that plainly told him to shut up, but Brian raised an interested eyebrow. "Oh?"
"Yeah," said Ted, grinning at her furious expression. "We had this client that not even you would have been able to impress..."
"Is that so?"
"A woman. Michelle Carson. She came in with Brown Athletics," Ted continued. "She was Mr. Brown's advisor...you know, so she had a lot of input on the boards and everything..."
"Right."
"But she needed a little extra...convincing...and as it turned at Cynthia was perfect for the job," Ted finished, beaming. He looked from Brian to Cynthia and back, apparently awaiting a reaction.
Brian turned to stare at each of his employees in turn, his mouth hanging open slightly as he seemed to put two and two together in his mind. Finally, a smirk that closely mirrored Ted's broke out over his face, and he shook his head, pushing himself off the wall and turning to enter his office.
"Christ, is no one straight anymore?"