The Trainee
A Short Story by Marlene Sexton
Copyright Marlene Sexton 2011
Published by Marlene Sexton at Smashwords
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Margret walked back to her cubicle and plopped into her chair. Why was she always stuck training the new girls? Her supervisor always told her it was an honor, but it felt more like some form of punishment. She wondered, as she often did, why she worked so hard just to be “rewarded” with more work. They never lightened her caseload while she trained the new employees; they expected her just to get it done anyway.
Maybe this girl would be different, Margret thought. Yeah, right! They were generally entitled little bitches that worried more about their pay and benefits package than the job they were there to do. Processing insurance claims wasn't glamorous, but it was honest work and paid well enough. If these girls wanted a glamorous career, they should have studied harder in high school and gone to college instead of shopping for clothes and fucking their boyfriends.
Margret sighed and took a breath. She snickered at her little internal tirade. Not all of the trainees she worked with were like that. Many were, but she had to admit that it was unfair to lump them all together. After all, some of the girls she had trained over the years were hard working, conscientious employees now. Some had even become her friends.
She took a sip of her now lukewarm coffee and got back to the stack of case files in front of her. She figured if she worked hard today, she could get ahead and not have to rush through the training to keep up tomorrow. If she was going to train a new girl, she wanted to do it right. If the girl worked out and stuck around awhile, Margret’s caseload might be reduced, if only marginally.
Margret began working and continued until about six-thirty that evening, even working through her lunch hour. She had gotten through today’s entire stack of files, as well as two-thirds of tomorrows. Unless the new trainee was a real brat, tomorrow would be a breeze. Margret hoped she got a good one this time as she left the office and headed home.
Margret picked up some sushi for dinner to eat back at her house. She was famished and ate even before she changed out of her work clothes. Honestly, she didn't mind wearing all the fancy clothes. She loved the skirts and blouses, the smart dresses, the nylons and heels and especially the lacy under things. Even when she dressed casual, she dressed well. It wasn't to impress people necessarily. She dressed well because it made her feel special.
After devouring the sushi, she went to her bedroom and slipped out of her sling-back heels, then her short pencil skirt and silky blouse. She then stood there admiring herself in the mirror for a moment. It's something she did all too often. She was feeling her age more and more these days. At forty-two, she still looked good but like so many women, she was her own harshest critic.
Her breasts weren’t as perky without the lacy bra and her ass not as firm without the high-priced pantyhose. Her belly wasn't quite as flat as it used to be either. Her legs, always her best feature, still looked good with or without the nylons. She hadn't yet had to deal with gray in her long, auburn hair, thankfully. Margret knew it was just the inevitable effects of age, but it still bothered her. Especially considering the pride she took in her appearance.
Margret sighed and began removing her under things and slipped into a pink silk sleep shirt and matching panties. It was almost nine and she was tired. Margret knew these new girls usually ran her ragged. She slipped into bed and picked up her Kindle, intending to read for a little relaxation, but didn't make it to the end of the chapter before she fell asleep.
~~~
Margret was in her cubicle early drinking a cup of coffee when a knock came on the metal frame of the threshold. She turned and saw a young girl. Aimee, she assumed, the new trainee. The girl was dressed in a simple, drab dress, black legging and flats. It wasn't what Margret would have chosen for her first day at a new job, but acceptable nowadays in the work place.
“Mrs. Ellison?” the girl asked.
“Yes, you must be Aimee,” Margret guessed as she held out her hand to greet the girl. The girl took her hand and shook it firmly and said, “Yes, I'm Aimee.”
Aimee was a cute girl. She was only a little over five feet tall and Asian, probably Korean, Margret thought. Aimee wasn't overweight, but she was curvy. Her black hair was short and her heavy bangs had pink streak and hung low over one eye. She had soft features, with olive skin and brown almond eyes. However, Margret wasn't impressed. Her style of dress and hair gave the impression that Aimee was another self absorbed, bratty trainee.
Margret gave Aimee the nickel tour of the expansive office. Margret showed Aimee the coffee maker, the restrooms, the break room and finally her small, cramped cubicle. She left Aimee alone for a while to fill out the stack of personnel forms that were required and told Aimee to find her if she had questions. Margret freshened up her coffee and went to her cubicle. She didn't really plan on working while Aimee filled out the paperwork. Most of the trainees usually had dozens of questions.
Margret enjoyed her coffee and a little peace and quiet while she waited for Aimee to come and ask her for help, but the girl never did. Forty-five minutes later, Aimee brought the stack of paperwork to Margret's cubicle. Margret turned to face Aimee and cocked and eyebrow, assuming the girl wasn't actually finished. Maybe the girl was going to quit, unable even to get through the personnel forms.
“I've finished, Mrs. Ellison,” Aimee stated and handed Margret the stack, all neat and orderly. Margret looked at the paperwork doubtfully, took it from Aimee and left her standing there waiting as Margret looked through the documents for mistakes and omissions, but they looked good. Now Margret was impressed. Maybe her first impressions were wrong.
“Call me Margret, please. I'm not fond of my ex-husband's last name, but not enough to brave the bureaucracy to change it,” Margret explained, trying to break the ice. Aimee giggled and Margret couldn't help liking this girl. She seemed polite and smart despite her less than professional looks. Margret decided to cut her some slack.
“All right, Margret it is. Do those papers look OK?” Aimee asked.
“Yes, good job. Most new girls don't get past the second page before they are confused and peppering me with questions. Let's take them down to Personnel and I'll introduce you around.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Elli...I mean, Margret. Sorry, my mom and dad drilled that into my head for years. I'm not supposed to call my elders by their first name. It's a hard to break the habit.”
“No, no, it's nice to see that some young girls are still polite,” Margret replied and then realized how she sounded and said, “Geez, did I just say that? That makes me sound like an old lady. You know what I mean,” Margret quipped and rolled her eyes.
“Yes, I do. Thank you.”
Margret handed the stack of forms back to Aimee and directed the girl to follow her. Margret took the girl to Personnel and introduced Aimee around. After that, Margret led her through seemingly endless offices and introduced her to so many people, that Margret knew there was no way the girl would remember most of them. Margret explained to Aimee it was company policy and then joked, “Don't worry about it. There's not a quiz or anything.”
“That's good to know. I can barely remember my own name now!” Aimee joked.
“I've been here 18 years and I still don't know all those people. Thank God for the name plates on the cubicles,” Margret said and both women laughed. Margret spent the rest of the morning showing Aimee the basics of the job. She was impressed with the aptitude the girl showed. That was all too rare. By lunch, Aimee was all but doing the job on her own. Margret was more than impressed. Aimee was turning out to be one of the good ones.
At noon, Margret went to Aimee's cubicle to inform her it was lunchtime. Aimee was working away as Margret expected she would be. Margret invited her to lunch, not wanting to leave the girl to her own devices. Aimee gladly accepted and they went to a deli nearby that Margret liked. The women walked and once they arrived, they ordered, Margret a chef's salad and Aimee a tuna salad sandwich that Margret recommended. They both filled their paper cups with diet soda and found a table.
“Aimee, I must tell you that you're doing very well so far. I mean that. Most new girls take a few days to do what you're already doing. You have a good future if you keep it up,” Margret told her, always wanting to encourage to good ones.
“Thank you. I want to do a good job, but this is just until I graduate. It's a good job, but I'm going to school for graphic arts and photography. Still, I promise I'll work hard and do a good job while I'm here.”
“Oh, that's fantastic. It is a good job, but hardly anyone's dream job. I'm glad to see a bright girl like you isn't just settling. I did that. Got a job, got married, yada, yada, yada. It wasn't the fairytale I thought it would be. Good for you,” Margret explained recalling her youth when she thought that she needed to find a husband, have a couple of kids and live in a house with the picket fence. That hadn't worked out so well.
“I'm not looking for a husband. I'm focusing on school and my future. I want to start my own business someday. I'm not really interested marriage, kids and all that,” Aimee said. Their number was called and Aimee offered to go get their plates, since Margret had paid. Margret watched her go. She was a cute, intelligent girl, much as Margret was 20 years ago. Margret was happy to see Aimee wasn't making the same mistakes she had.
Aimee returned with the food and they ate. Aimee told Margret that the tuna was delicious and thanked her for the suggestion. Once they were finished, they had some time to relax before they had to be back at the office. Aimee offered to get refills for their sodas. After she returned with two full cups, they sat and talked some more. Margret was eager to find out more about this girl.
“I'm glad to hear you aren't rushed to get married. I did that and I regret it. I thought that was what girls did. Kind of an old-fashioned idea, I suppose, but I grew up in an old-fashioned family. Focus on your career, before you settle down. When you are ready to get married, wait for the right guy,” Margret offered, suddenly feeling like a dotting mother, “I'm sorry, you probably don't want my advice. I just don't want anyone to make the mistakes I did.”
“No, that's fine. I appreciate it. You don't need to worry. I doubt I'll ever get married,” Aimee admitted.
“Oh, you seem kind of young to make such an important decision. You may change you're mind, you know,” Margret's old-fashioned upbringing coming through.
“Well, I doubt it. I…don't really like men,” Aimee said a little uncomfortably.
“Sorry, I'm being overbearing. It’s a bad habit. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I've had my own problems with men.”
“It's not that...,” Aimee looked around and then leaned close, “I'm a lesbian.”
Margret narrowed her eyes and almost laughed at the joke, but then saw that there was no humor in Aimee’s eyes. Then Margret's eyes widened, “You're serious!” she said, half statement, half question.
“Yes. Is that a problem?”
“No. No! It's none of my business, really. I'm so sorry I brought it up. I feel like such an idiot. I should learn to keep my mouth shut and mind my own business,” Margret said. She was admonishing herself for pushing her advice on Aimee as much as apologizing to the girl and then Margret leaned closer to Aimee and admitted, “It's just I've never met a real lesbian. Oh, that probably came out wrong.”
Aimee laughed aloud and said, “Margret, its fine. I'm not ashamed. If we're going to work together, it's probably good you know, right? Don't be embarrassed or feel bad. I'm just a regular girl who happens to like other girls.”
“You kind of caught me off guard. I really don't care, I swear. I'm really just glad you aren't like so many of the other girls I've trained. You're making my life easy, today. We should head back, “Margret said, glad to have a reason to change the subject. Margret seemed a confident, self-assured woman, but outside of her personal experiences, she was rather naive.
“Yeah, I don't want to be late on my first day,” Aimee joked.
“I won't tell anyone...about being late, I mean.”
“I knew what you meant, Margret. Take it easy. I'm a lesbian. It's not a big deal.” Aimee tried to reassure Margret.
Margret took a deep breath and exhaled, “I'm sorry, Aimee. You really did catch me off guard. I really have never met a lesbian, but you're right. I'll relax, I promise.”
“Good. Thanks for lunch and for the advice. I really do appreciate it.”
“Well, you're welcome,” Margret said. She liked Aimee. She had her head on straight and knew what she wanted. Margret wished she were that mature when she was Aimee’s age. It would have saved her many struggles. After her lousy marriage, she wondered if being a lesbian wasn't a preferable option. She remembered her mantra that all those bad times made her the woman she was today and she liked that woman.
~~~
That night Margret couldn't get Aimee out of her head. She lay awake in her large bed and tried to reconcile what she knew about the girl. She didn't seem like a lesbian. Even though she wasn't classically feminine like herself, Aimee was pretty and seemed like a normal girl. She wasn't what she thought a lesbian would be, anyway.
Margret admitted she didn't know much about lesbians. She supposed that the stereotypes were just that. She knew the beautiful, buxom girls in the porn movies her husband used to bring home probably weren't real lesbians. She pictured women with flannel shirts and work boots with crew cuts, but she knew that was wrong too. Aimee was right. She was just a girl that happened to like other girls. She guessed, most lesbians, and gay men for that matter, were just regular people.
Margret pondered that for a while and then suddenly she wondered what being a lesbian was like. It was a sexual preference and natural, Margret supposed, for her to wonder about it. Margret's mind wandered, picturing Aimee with other women, wondering what they might do together. After a few long moments, she realized what she was thinking and became self-conscience. She shouldn’t be thinking about stuff like that.
She turned over and tried to sleep, but sleep eluded her. Margret tried to tell herself she was just restless, but she knew it was more than that. Her pussy tingled and she fought to get the sexual images out of her head. She wouldn't admit it to herself, but thinking about Aimee with other women was arousing. It took almost an hour, but finally Margret managed to fall asleep.
~~~
Over the next few weeks, Aimee quickly became a real asset around the office. Margret was honestly proud of the girl. She worked hard, rarely made mistakes and showed good judgment. Margret and Aimee had developed a habit of eating lunch together, also. On Aimee's second day she asked Margret to lunch and they had been doing it ever since.
Three days a week they went walking, the other two days they usually went out to eat. Margret enjoyed the time with Aimee and she began considering her a friend. They didn't see each other outside of work but in the office at least, they enjoyed each other’s company.
Their friendship began to grow beyond the office when Aimee invited Margret to a bar-b-que one weekend. It was the late September and the weather was perfect. Margret wasn't sure at first, but when Aimee pretended to pout, she had to say yes. Margret wasn't sure why Aimee wanted to be friends with a forty-two-year-old divorcee, but she didn't press the issue.
Margret expected many girls like Aimee to be at the bar-b-que, but it turned out it was more of a family thing. Aimee was careful to introduce Margret as a coworker, but she got the distinct feeling some of Aimee's family assumed she was Aimee's girlfriend. That didn't bother her, but it was a little awkward. Still Aimee's family was a lot of fun, especially her Korean mother.
She took an immediate liking to Margret and told her all about how she met Aimee's dad when he was stationed in Korea and how she came to America with him. Margret thought she was just happy to have another woman of a similar age around the house especially since she had three sons besides her daughter Aimee. Margret liked Aimee's family and immediately felt at home. The close-knit family made her wish she wouldn't have let her ex talk her out of having kids.
Ironic, she thought, since now he had two kids with the bimbo he slept with behind Margret's back. He was adamant he didn't want children and she caved to his wishes, but now he had two young children. She had gotten over it a long time ago, but being around big, happy families always made her a little sad. However, she always enjoyed it immensely.
Margret barely saw Aimee that night, spending most of her time with Aimee's mom. However, after dinner Aimee pried Margret away from her mom. The girl apologized, “I'm sorry about that. My mom can talk a blue streak.”
“She's a sweetheart. I enjoyed talking with her, really. You have a great family. I enjoyed myself a lot. Thanks for inviting me. I need to get out of my little house from time to time,” Margret said.
“Margret, you wanna get out of here, go out, get some drinks? Things are kind of winding down around here, but I don't want to go home just yet,” Aimee asked.
“Sure, I guess. Where?” Margret replied. If Aimee hadn't said it the way she had, Margret would have assumed Aimee was asking her out, but the girl genuinely sounded like she wasn't ready to go home. Margret reminded herself to drop her guard. Aimee was just a friend and just like any other girl.
“You like to dance?” Aimee asked and Margret nodded in the affirmative, “Then I know place near the office. It's kind of low key, but they have dancing. Its friendly to all kinds of people, so there should be guys there.”
“Oh, OK. Should I meet you there, then?” Margret asked. Margret lived about five minutes from their office, but Aimee lived almost forty minutes away just outside of Pittsburgh. Aimee agreed it was probably a good idea to prevent one or the other women from having to back track to her family's house, about half way in between.
Margret followed Aimee to the club. She discovered she knew the place, but had never been there. They parked next to one another and went inside. The women grabbed a small booth and Aimee went to the bar and ordered drinks. She came back with a cosmopolitan for Margret and a white Russian for herself, and sat down next to Margret.