High Standards (Audio Script)

Stories

“Is this the third draft?”

“Um… yes.

This is with Valerie’s edits.”

“Make the type size bigger.

I want that subtitle on the bottom edge, next to the logo, not on top of it.

“Did you hear me?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah.

Just… writing that down.”

“We might want to go ahead and stop for the night.

It’s getting late.”

“You sure?

We can keep going if you want.

Really, I’ve got nothing planned for tonight—”

“Tomorrow is fine.”

You always talk like that. So… formal.

I don’t really know what I was expecting when I got promoted to your department.

I mean, you’ve always had this kind of “ice queen” reputation around the office—which is totally sexist—but I guess I just thought you’d open up a little eventually.

Four months later and I still feel like I barely know you.

Then again, you invited me over to your apartment tonight to finish up this client proposal, which was pretty unexpected. It’s made me realize I know literally nothing about you or your life.

“I… think I need a drink.

This project has been a nightmare since the moment it started.

Want one?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, sure.”

“I’ve only got a Chenin Blanc.

That okay?”

“Uh, yeah, thank you. That’s perfect.”

This is… not like you.

You’re always coming and going, never staying in one place long enough for small talk.

I can’t even think of the last time we had a normal conversation that wasn’t about clients or ad copy.

Sitting and having a drink with you, in your apartment no less, is kind of a huge step for us.

“So, um, do you… have plans this weekend?”

“No, not really.

I, um, was supposed to have a date this weekend, but it got canceled.”

“Oh, no way?

That’s… I mean, that’s awful it got canceled.”

“Yeah, something came up with her kids, so…

I don’t know.

It’s not a big deal.

Dating in my 40s has been something of a disaster, anyway.”

Wait… her ?

Oh my god.

Oh my god, is my gaydar completely broken?

How the fuck did I not realize my boss was also a lesbian?

I’m usually so good at this…

“How about you?

Weekend plans?”

“Um… no.

I mean, yes.

Well, just, you know, brunch on Saturday.

Laundry on Sunday.

Nothing big.”

“You didn’t know, did you?”

“Know what?”

“That I’m gay.”

“No, I… I guess I didn’t.

I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be weird.

I just… I mean, I’m also… you know how it is.

Femme invisibility is real.”

“Yeah, yeah, it is.

I made a choice to wall myself off when I started in this field.

I figured the less people knew about me… the more seriously I’d be taken.

It’s different now, though.

People are a lot more open than they used to be.”

You have a really pretty smile.

And I’m only realizing it now because it’s such a rare occurrence at the office.

“Anyway, you did really great work today.

I know I don’t say it enough—or ever—but I’m impressed.”

“Yeah, well, I’m learning from the best, so…”

“Hey, listen, I usually grab takeout from this little Italian place off 8th a couple times a week. Their portions are huge. You want to stick around for dinner?”

“Yeah.

Um, sure.

That sounds great.”

“Hello.

Just placing an order to go.

Yeah.

139 Franklin Avenue.

Apartment 4C.

Yes, I’ll have the goat cheese ravioli and the beet salad.

Okay, great.

Thanks.”

You’ve always been graceful, but there’s something especially elegant about the way you wander slowly across the living room.

Your cell phone nestled in the crook of your neck, your fingers idly running over the top shelf of your bookcase.

I can tell you’re at ease.

Your knee presses against mine as you sit back down on the couch.

It feels good.

The warmth and weight of another body so close to me.

“I… really enjoy working with you.”

“I do, too.

I want… I want to know more about you…”

“I’m an open book.”

“Is this…?

You’re okay with this?”

“Yeah…”

“You’re certain?

I know we’re co-workers in the office.

Or, you’re my employee, rather.

But—”

“Yeah, I’m sure.

Just keep kissing me.”

“How long have you… wanted to do that?”

“Mm, since about the moment you got transferred to my team.”

“And you kept that to yourself this whole time?”

“I considered letting it be known more than a few times, but…”

“Mmhmm.

I see.

So, you just let me go on thinking you were stone cold?”

“Well, I noticed you were eager to please and were good at doing what you were told.”

“Oh, am I?”

“Yes, so I wanted to wait until I was sure that you wouldn’t just say ‘yes’ to me because I was your boss.”

“Well, maybe tonight you’re not my boss.

Maybe tonight we’re… just you… and me.”

“Can I take off your shirt?”

“You can take off more than that, if you want.”

“Take this off…”

“Keep telling me what to do…”

“Lie back.

Give me… your hands…”

You press my hands against the arm of the couch and lean over me.

The weight of you pressed against my body…

the taste of expensive wine on your mouth…