Posted by: Vicky V | September 15, 2009

Cake Walk

Sometimes you need to spin out memories like you eat a good chocolate cake (moist milk chocolate sponge; ganache icing; border of Maltesers. Or maybe Revels. Clean. i.e. no cream / ice cream / fruit / custard).

A bit like this, but even more chocolatey

A bit like this, but even more chocolatey

These memories are with Boss Zack who was definitely flirting with me at the away-day party. I am 100% sure as I’d only drunk two jungle juices and could still stand on one foot (which I tested with Bernard when we were outside sharing a Rothmans).

Zack is in New York now so for the meantime I’m left to get all hypoglaecemic on the memories. When I’m low and bored sometimes I’ll just shove the whole memory cake into my gob in one sitting. Other times, when I’m commuting into work, I’ll feed myself little crumbs in between trying to finish Business Stripped Bare: Adventures of a Global Entrepreneur by Richard Branson.

A few little crumbs: He fixes me with his ebony eyes across the room while I am organising the jungle juice cocktail refills because the waitress in charge has tripped over her animal print and bruised her big toe. I ignore it and presume he’s eye-balling Karen who is making it up to Cream Horn for ruining her Balmains. But Karen moves and he’s still holding my gaze.

A bite: He puts his hand on mine while handing over a shot of tequila.

A big, fat slice: I think he asks me to come back to his flat but I can’t be sure because I’m trying too hard to hear what he’s saying. And then Ben joins us and the two of them start talking about people I’d never heard of. Then I try not to remember the next bit which is like finding a beetle in your cake slice; the bit where I try and leave the conversation because I feel like a spare part who knows no one and nothing. I bend down as if to readjust my shoe and plan to slink away while still at ground level. But they both notice and think there’s something wrong with me. I tell them the jungle juice is a bit acidic and turn to leave. Zack pinches my bum. I am not offended. It is AMAZING. The beetle walks off my cake slice.

The whole cake is this: I imagine that when he eventually returns from NYC, he’s missed me so much he proposes immediately. I get to live in an amazing flat on Regents’ Park with a gorgeous and successful man and can retire from the assistant/receptionist role I currently inhabit because no one would put the bosses wife in that position.

I have inadvertently moved in on Karen’s territory. But she stitched me up. So now we’re equal.



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