Morning came, much too soon, and before long Jack was sliding into his office. He sat at his desk and pulled Serena's ID card out of a pocket. He thought about having the conversation with her right away, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He vacillated, then decided that later in the day when he felt more like himself would be better. He would wait until it was late enough that he could make a quick get away if he had to. He put the ID card away again, and opened a case file hoping to take his mind off the encounter he was dreading.
Around 5:00, Jack decided it was time. He got up from his desk, went to the door, and looked in the direction of Serena's cubicle. She was working her computer. She had been there most of the day. Jack wondered if she had found the blue dildo-key, used it to gain access to the seventh and last stud, and run his number down to zero. She was intent on what she was doing, but was otherwise impassive. She appeared to be reading something on the screen, which was out of Jack's view. She moved her lips a bit, though not too fast, as she read. Jack went to her cubicle and sat in the chair alongside Serena's desk, then turned in the chair to see what she was reading.
It was the online edition of some tabloid newspaper. The article onscreen was headlined, "Two-headed Grandson of Elvis Found in Flying Saucer Wreckage." There was a picture, too, of a child in a swaggering stance, with two heads, wearing a white, sequin encrusted jumpsuit. Each head sported the trademark Elvis pompadour and sideburns, along with very dark sunglasses. Jack blinked several times, then rapidly faced forward in the chair again. There were some things it was better not to have seen. It was amazing to him how many of these involved Serena. After a pause, during which a fresh flare-up of itching caused Jack to squirm slightly in his chair, he quietly cleared his throat.
"Oh, good morning, Jack, I didn't see you," Serena said in a perky tone. She had a slight smile and her eyes sized him up knowingly, "I'm sure glad to see you, though." Even though it was actually late afternoon, for Serena time was always very fluid. Jack felt himself tensing.
He tried to prepare himself. Lay a little friendly ground work before getting to what he had to tell her. "I, uh, did you ever finish that game?" Jack asked. He needed to be careful here. He felt like a man about to swim with the sharks. A diversion was necessary.
"No. Not yet. There's still one stud left," Serena replied, "When Snow White sucks the vitality right out of him then I'll be done with the level and he'll just be done. There are more levels." She pointed out brightly. Jack winced at her unintended sucking metaphor.
"More levels..." Jack began. He was beginning to worry about his own vitality.
"That's right. Many levels. The next one is Snow White and the Nine Supreme Court Justices. Don't you just love those robes? After that is Snow White and the 1976 Cincinnati Reds. You know, the Big Red Machine." she explained, mistaking Jack's expression of disbelief for ignorance, "After that, I don't know, except I do know one level has a symphony orchestra, with all those musical, you know, instruments. Interesting how they all play together."
"That's fascinating..." Jack began. He wished he had gone to the Antarctic instead of the office
"I just knew you'd think so," Serena interrupted, "I think you'd really like this game if you tried it. I'd love playing with you." she added enthusiastically.
"I'll pass," Jack felt his stomach lurch. He said in a firmer voice, "Serena, I found something that
belongs to you." He took the State Bar ID card out of his pocket and handed it to her.
Serena took the card and examined it very carefully. "I never let this out of my sight. I paid a lot of money for this. You sure it's my real one?"
Jack goggled in astonishment. One of the mysteries of the universe had just been solved. How Serena had passed the Bar. He had often wondered. "Yes", he said between clenched teeth. "It's your name and your picture, and it fell out of your purse in my living room."
"Oh, I remember that part really clearly. I was there, let's see..." Serena looked down. She appeared to be fussing with her skirt with one hand while counting on the fingers of her other hand. Her days of the week underwear, Jack realized with a kind of sickened clarity. So that's how she checked it. When she was done, she continued "...I was there Friday night. We had great sex. You wore the glow in the dark purple condom. I would have chosen pink for you myself," she smiled.
Jack nodded slowly. The memory of the glow in the dark purple condom was difficult for him to accept, but not at all difficult to remember. He said nothing. A brief mental image of wearing the pink one started to form but he shoved it back savagely.
"Didn't you think the sex was super?" asked Serena, her voice lowered to a confidential level, "I think I was just fabulous. I think that I was really, really good. I sure had you going. Coming too, I think." She gave a small leer.
Jack choked, searching for the right thing to say. Finally he was able to respond, "Yes, I suppose so. I was pretty drunk, so I don't remember much." He remembered far better than he let on. It was always like that with trauma. She had just lain there, virtually motionless, quivering a bit like Jello, slug-like, eyes tightly shut, making little guttural sounds which were as indicative of back spasms as sexual pleasure. Even in his sodden state he didn't know whether he should continue or summon medical assistance. At the end what he had assumed had been her orgasm had borne a closer resemblance to a grand-mal seizure than anything else. It had almost sobered him. The whole experience had been much closer to necrophilia than he had ever wanted to go. Never again he thought.
"It thrills me that you enjoyed it so much," Serena said happily. "Let's make plans to do it again soon. You can wear the pink next time. It will be even better than before. Just let me check my schedule..." she began, again looking down and fiddling with her skirt. Jack felt like he was drowning.
"No..."Jack he said frantically. She looked up at him, bewildered. "Uh, I'm not ready for a sustained relationship. It's too soon...too soon since my divorce."
"Now Jack," Serena said, "You've been divorced for years longer than I've known you."
"I know, I know", he stammered, "but it's still much too soon." Jack tried to sound controlled, even regretful, but he only achieved constipated. Fortunately Serena didn't notice the difference. She continued to look at him intently, not understanding the rejection.
Jack drew himself together. He had to get control of the conversation. "Serena. I have to tell you something for your own good." he said, pausing for air, "You gave me crabs."
"No," she said, "I just gave you a scotch. That bar doesn't sell crabs. You told me you didn't want to eat anything either."
"I'm not talking about a Maryland dinner," Jack said, with rising irritation, "I'm talking about crabs. Itching biting pests. Pubic crabs. Pasteurella pestis." That what Dick the pharmacist had called them. Something like that, anyway. She'd never know the difference.
"I thought you were talking about crabs, Jack. Now you are talking about plague. Do you have plague too? Maybe you better go see a doctor for that," Serena said earnestly, "That can be really serious."
"No! Crabs!" Jack snarled. "Just crabs. Disgusting little crawly things in the pubic area. Passed during sex," He continued a little more loudly, seeing her eyes start to glaze over. "You gave me crabs the other night!"
Serena made a big "O" with her mouth. "You mean I have them too?" She asked. "Is that what makes me itch all the time? So that's what those things are. I would never have guessed, Jack," she said wonderingly.
Jack stared at her. He couldn't be hearing this correctly. He just couldn't. He wanted to pass out but he didn't dare. He waited for the thought to sink into Serena's head.
"Why I must have had them since college," she said, "I knew something was different after that night with the Dean. But he said that's what happens the first time you have sex."
Jack made a grinding sound in his throat like a garbage disposal. "You got out of college about, what? ten years ago?" Jack asked, "And no one else has ever told you?" He was incredulous.
Serena considered this, "Well, people have mentioned crabs to me now and then, but I thought they wanted to have dinner or go to the seashore or something. I don't like eating things that look like big bugs and I burn so easily at the beach, so I always said no. No wonder they never asked again."
"Well, you have to get rid of them," Jack said, "I think you already have the world's record for the longest crab infestation. You have to get something to kill them and scald your sheets and underwear."
The wide-eyed look again. "But if I wash all of my underwear at the same time how will I know what day it is?" Jack rolled his eyes in exasperation. Serena caught the movement. "Oh you're teasing me. I knew you couldn't get rid of them." Serena asked. "You shouldn't joke about things like that."
"Yes, yes. You can." Jack said his voice cracking under the strain. "You can kill your crabs. Buy a new package of underwear to put on so you don't lose track of time, and while you're at it change the password on your damn computer, in case you ever do anything related to work on it. Not that there is going to be much chance of that."
Serena gave Jack another wide eyed stare. "My goodness," she said. "Someone is sitting in the crosspatch today." Jack glared at her. "Oh, all right." she said, "write down how I should do this and I'll do it if it makes you happy."
Jack made a few notes for her on her on her Smiley Face notepad. He kept them simple. First he told her how to change her password. Then he suggested that she stop on the way home at the drugstore nearby. When he was finished an evil thought struck him. "Ask for Dick at the pharmacy," Jack said a small hard smile crossing his lips, "he'll give you good advice and lots of help." I'd love to overhear that conversation, Jack thought to himself. Serena laboriously read the instructions, lips moving, her index finger running slowly under every line.
After she had finished reading, Serena thought about it for a minute. "Jack," she said "I have just one question about these crabs. Are they soft shell?"
Jack made the grinding sound again. "Serena," he said, "Just go. Ask Dick. I'm sure he'll tell you." That and a lot more Jack thought. Serena nodded assent and carefully put his instructions in her purse. Jack got up and headed for the opening in her cubicle. "We both have work to do now," he said firmly. He couldn't get out of there fast enough but he had to pause for a moment, when she spoke to him again. He turned stiffly back to her wishing he was anywhere but here.
"Jack," Serena said, lowering her voice to a whisper, "It's alright if you want to call me Helga. It'll just be our secret." Jack reeled slightly. "No," he said, "That can be your secret. Use it for your password." He turned and left her cubicle as quickly as he could. "What a sweet idea," he heard her crooning as he walked away, "Guess you're out of the crosspatch now." Jack's shoulders sagged but he continued walking away.