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Lord, what fools these mortals be…
As far as Dwight is concerned there are two keys to a successful mission.
Preparation and participation.
Dwight is always, always prepared, for every eventuality, and his chosen accomplice has proved time and again to be a willing participant.
She has the eyes of an angel, the voice of a songbird, and the strategic sensibilities of a Five-Star General at wartime. He could always count on her to join him in the fight, and sometimes, more often than not, construct the battle plan.
Tonight, however, he feels he’s slighted her, more than a little, and fear courses through his veins as he stands on the opposite end of the gymnasium watching her nibble the edges of a piece of naan. He thinks of that mouth, how precise it can be when the situation presents itself, and decides it’s time for a new mission.
He sees a young girl, one of Kelly’s sisters he is sure, walking by and decides she’d make an excellent messenger. He calls her over, hastily scribbles a note, and whispers his instructions.
xoxoxo
Tiffany doesn’t understand why she’s suddenly the Post Office and, more important, why these losers don’t just text message each other. Grown ups are weird, her sister is such a freaking pain, and there is no way this guy she’s so into looks anything like Zach Braff.
She reaches Ryan and hands him one of the slips of paper. “Kelly - like - told me to give this to you and stuff,” she mutters as she turns and makes her way towards Angela.
She stands in front of her and holds out the other note, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. “It’s from that creepy guy with the glasses,” she tells her in a flat, can’t-be-more-bored tone.
The DJ changes the track and in an instant her eyes begin to sparkle.
“Ooo! Beyoncé!” she squeals as she practically skips away.
xoxoxo
Ryan can’t explain how he gets himself into these situations. Part of him came here tonight to end this thing with Kelly once and for all. He knew her parents were somewhat traditional, knew that she worried they would push her to marry someone of their choosing. He figured that this was a foolproof way to get out of…whatever this was.
But he also knew he was kidding himself. He knew there was something about the way she looked at him, like there was no other person on this earth. Something about the way she smiled at him, like he was the most fascinating person she’d ever known. It was a rare thing – to find something like that – and despite his protests there was something to be said for things that were rare.
If you asked him, though, he’d tell you he can’t explain why he’s here, any more than he can explain why he’s on his way to Room 529 to meet her.
Well. Maybe the reason he’s meeting her has something to do with that thing she can do with her tongue.
It’s nothing short of acrobatic.
xoxoxo
Angela moves to the hallway to claim her shoes. She examines them closely before slipping them back on her feet, deciding when she comes back she’s not taking them off again.
Completely hedonistic - this whole thing - as far as she’s concerned.
As she makes her way to Room 526 her lips twist into a self-satisfied smile. She knew he’d try to make it up to her in some way; his little assertion that he was single at the office earlier stung more than she’d like to admit. She knew it was an agreement they’d both entered into, but it always made her somewhat sad to hear him say the necessary words. She didn’t wallow in the feeling. She wasn’t made that way.
Subterfuge is not for the weak.
She curls her dainty fingers around the door knob and slips inside, her smile vanishing as a pair of hands reach for her blindly.
Her head spins as she realizes the lips touching hers are soft and taste of strawberry, her stomach lurching as she hears a voice too high-pitched to be the one she’s expecting.
“Omigod! AN-GEL-A!!” Kelly giggles. “You totally just slipped me the tongue!”
xoxoxo
Dwight’s eyes have trouble adjusting to the dark, but he refuses to turn on the light. The room is windowless with a solid oak door, the perfect place for the task at hand.
He hears the door creak open and gropes in front of him, his hand closing around a fabric that feels suspiciously like silk, though he knows that she wore a cotton sweater. He smiles slyly at the realization that she’s come prepared for the events of this evening.
“Always one step ahead of me, my sweet little Monkey,” he whispers huskily as his mouth seeks hers.
As his lips find their mark he wonders why her cheek is peppered with stubble. He hears a strangled cough and knows the mission must be aborted.
“I…” Ryan sputters as he shoves him forcefully away “…am not your ‘monkey’.”
xoxoxo
“I most certainly did not.” Angela clutches the gold cross at her neck, already silently seeking absolution.
“Oh yes. You totally did!” Kelly laughs louder. She lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Oh don’t worry. I won’t say anything to anyone. It’s totally cool. I haven’t done this since college. Seriously – I forgot how fun that could be.” She bounces up and down, the tiny sequins dangling from the hem of her sari jingling. “That reminds me - I should call my friend Shelby!! She was the most awesome kisser! She had this supercool pink streak in her hair and a tongue ring – she taught me the most a-may-zing trick! Come back here. I can teach you if you want. Trust me it drives Ryan wild…”
Angela knows what some girls did in college, those disgustingly filthy sorority types who bared their breasts on video at Spring Break and thought that such dalliances with each other could be categorized merely as “experimenting.”
The most depraved thing of all was that at her college they were usually minister’s daughters, rebelling in that fashion to try to prove a point, confirming nothing but the fact that they were just a pole dance away from a porn career.
“I thought you were someone else,” she replies as she turns and stumbles towards the door.
“You did?” Kelly blinks in surprise. “Omigod who? Is it Pam…?”
Angela fights her way to the hall and runs toward the front entrance of the school. She quickly makes her way to her car and locks herself safely inside telling herself the flutter in her stomach is a wave of nausea – nothing more.
She rummages through her purse, realizing there’s not enough sugarless gum in the world to wash the taste of sin from her mouth.
xoxoxo
Ryan shakes his head as he lurches away, wiping the back of his hand across his lips. “Let me guess. I'm not who you were expecting.”
Dwight racks his brain for an adequate response. First rule of capture: Admit Nothing.
“No. I’m on…a type of…recognizance…mission.” He replies, clearing his throat. He wishes he had his notebook handy, to document his findings.
Subject must use some sort of lip balm. Recently consumed a dish made with curry, possibly chicken…
“F-f-or who?” Ryan stammers not believing the sound of his own voice. As he says the words he wants to take them back. Like he even needs to know the answer to that question.
“That is of no concern of yours.” Dwight replies as he pushes past him and towards the door. “You won’t speak of this outside these walls. Am I understood – Temp?”
“You’ve got nothing to worry about.” Ryan finally manages, knowing he’ll just add this event to the list of things that he’ll pretend never happened.
“Good.” Dwight nods and collides with the door before grappling to pry it open.
Once out in the hallway he straightens his glasses and hangs his head, the realization of what’s just happened washing over him and making him dizzy. He’s never had an operation backfire so completely before. It’s not a feeling he’s used to at all. What’s more - he’s gone and betrayed the one person to whom he’s pledged his undying loyalty.
Michael can’t ever find out about this. He thinks desperately as he makes his way down the hall and out into the warm October night.
