One day a man appeared in place of our regular masseuse. She was on vacation maybe, or had quit, or fled town; I don't know. But now there was a man. Young, slight, slender-fingered. The men in the office were nonplussed, almost indignant. Many did not respect their appointments, pretending instead to be so lost in work that they'd lost track of time.
Lucy took her turn as scheduled. When she walked back into the light of the workspace, past the metallic reaches of the sculpture, some perverse impulse must have struck her. Some mischievous idea. She walked to the far wall where Brett and Tom sat.
"That fucking dude touched my ass!" she declared.
"What?!" Brett replied, aghast.
Tom lept brusquely to his feet, his chair swiveling and rolling errantly across the glossy floor.
"He fucking did what? That motherfucker what?"
Tom and Brett were both up now, peering intently at the darkness down the hall.
"I'm kidding, I'm kidding, I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" Lucy protested.
"He fucking what?"
"I'm kidding! I'm kidding!"
The tumult ended in laughter and finally everyone was seated once again. Work resumed under the enormous countdown clock.