Take Me on the Xerox! Eight tales of office romance.
“Are You Guys Going to Kiss? It Looks Like You’re About to Kiss.”
● Vanita, 2018: I was sitting on the conference-room table waiting for a meeting to start. My legs were dangling down, and they were kind of spread open. (I had shorts on.) A girl from another department who was super-bright, attractive, young, and openly gay came in. I had seen her once or twice but never up close like this. She was standing in front of me, kind of in between my legs, and we were just looking at each other. It was so intimate and unexpected. I was breaking up with my girlfriend at the time, and I didn’t want to cross any lines at work—but the heat was there. Some tech nerd walked in—I’m in the gaming industry—and said, “Are you guys going to kiss? It looks like you’re about to kiss.” We told him, “Fuck off.” But of course, we went out the next weekend and kissed all night. We went on a few dates after that, but it fizzled quickly. I’ve often fantasized about fucking on that conference table, where it all began.
“We’d Call It a ‘Closed-Door Meeting’”
● Billy, late 1980s: I started sleeping with my business partner at work. We were always good friends (which is why we’d opened a fashion line together), but we didn’t look at each other sexually until later in our friendship. We used to lock our office door— which we shared anyway—and say we were in a “closed-door meeting” and “couldn’t be interrupted.” I would rip off her clothes and have sex with her on the couch. There was something so ridiculously hot about knowing our employees were in the office and at any moment they could interrupt and say, “Billy, call for you, line three.” Those days are over. We have three kids now and never have sex.
“We Had Sex, and It Didn’t Matter That It Was on Cardboard”
● Laura, 1978: I had just moved to New York from Vermont. I was working in an office at the Metropolitan Opera. (I used to call my mother and put the phone up to the speaker on my desk; they piped all the rehearsals throughout the building, and I’d call her when this amazing guy Pavarotti was singing. We had never heard of him.) One day, a gorgeous guy appeared and we ended up talking. He was in the city from Wisconsin? Minnesota? Trying to become a model. I watched the elevator every day, waiting for him. We flirted for about a week, then moved on to a closet for a little more intense “flirting.” Best lunch hours ever. He never got a modeling contract and had to move back home. We went out for one last night and then to his apartment. He didn’t have any furniture—everything was packed up—and was sleeping on a big piece of doubled-up cardboard. Of course we had sex, and it didn’t matter that it was on cardboard. That Monday, I got a good-bye card from him in the interoffice mail. And it was made out of that cardboard.
“We Were Alone in the Teachers’ Lounge”
● Reina, 2006: I was teaching at an elementary school, and I was new. He was an unhappily married science teacher, and he was craving connection. We would flirt all the time, all over the school. Friday afternoons, we’d all go to beer gardens and happy hours. We only almost crossed the line once, though. We were alone in the teachers’ lounge, and he was saying how pretty I smelled. (I had a new perfume on.) As he smelled my neck, he tried to kiss me. It lasted half a second and then we both pulled back. Years later, his wife cheated on him, they got divorced, and he contacted me. He said he was always in love with me. I wasn’t interested in him romantically anymore.
“He Wanted to Leave. Like, Without Me.”
● Allyson, 1999: I wanted to be a copywriter, so I got an internship at one of the big ad firms in midtown. The guy I reported to (an actual copywriter) wasn’t necessarily “hot,” but he was admired and had swagger. I flirted with him when I delivered papers to his office, when I saw him in the elevator. I remember him coming over to my cubicle to tell me something, and I really felt the heat between us. We had a little vibe. Finally, I asked him to have a drink, and we made plans to meet at the Coffee Shop in Union Square the following Saturday night. I was always a real minx, so I was hoping for a whole night of fun together. He arrived very much on edge. He wasn’t the guy with the swagger from the office; he was anxious and unfriendly. We ordered drinks, and by the time the waiter came back, the copywriter told me he wanted to leave. Like, without me. He left me there with both our drinks and the bill. Did he think I was too young? Did he have a girlfriend? Did he feel unethical? I quit for a real job a few weeks later.
“When Everyone Went to Get Tacos, We Started Making Out”
● Chana, 2011: I was at my first job, a TVproduction company, and I was madly in love with the art director. He had a girlfriend, but I didn’t care. We had a big holiday party at the office. I usually dressed like a man for work, and I showed up in a sparkly Zara minidress. I’d never felt so sexy. The art director and I weren’t even drunk; we were just so horny for each other. There was a taco truck outside, and when everyone went to get tacos, we started making out. We were very paranoid about getting caught, but we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. The next day, we had a company breakfast together. I already felt like he was out of my system. A few years later, we finally had sex. I was so grossed out that I wanted to run away. He was such a loser.
“The Partner, in That Little Kitchenette, Gave Me Permission to Be Gay and Feel Normal About It”
● Timothy, 2002: I knew I was gay, but I hadn’t come out and I hadn’t ever been with a man sexually. I was a young lawyer at a prestigious firm and just wanted to keep to myself and do a good job. But one of the partners was gay, and he obviously knew I was gay with one look at me. One day, I was making myself a coffee. He came in and point-blank asked if I had a boyfriend. I nearly froze. But I pulled myself together. And he said, “Come out with me and my friends tonight!” We went—of course—to the Cock. I was considerably younger than anyone else, and they were all very respectful, no boundaries were crossed, but I did end up marrying someone I met through his clique years later. Without knowing it, the partner, in that little kitchenette, gave me permission to be gay and feel normal about it.
“We Once Turned His Cubicle Into a Little Disco”
● Tanya, 1969: I had a hair salon that was on the ground floor of an office building, and all the businessmen would come down for their haircuts. One kept getting cuts he didn’t really need. Like, his hair wouldn’t have grown a centimeter. Finally, he said, “How about instead of paying you for the cut, you let me take you to dinner?” I married him a few months later. We would have fun hanging around his office after hours, too, after I’d lock up downstairs. We once turned his cubicle into a little disco. Once a year, we still visit that office building and pop a bottle of Champagne where my salon used to be.