Molly dragged the chair across the kitchen floor and carefully stood on her tippie-toes to try to reach the plate she needed. Normally she’d ask her man for help, but he was very busy on his professional project.
Well, he wasn’t exactly her “man,” per se. More like coworker, even if, technically he was a man and she was a girl — erm, woman. And, to get specific, it was their joint project.
But ever since they started working together, Molly had to admit that he’d done a great job taking control. Besides, she was forgetting all sorts of things lately. Like what, exactly, the project was. And why they had decided to work at his house. And where her pants had gone.
But Molly knew that she didn’t have to worry about any of that — leave the thinking up to the men, she always said. Or at least had started to say.
That’s why she was in the kitchen, where she belonged. And if she did a good enough job there, Molly knew that maybe she could go from being a girl who was a coworker to a coworker who was his girlfriend.