Number 69

A Shorter Short Story

“Mark, can you be a dear and tell me what cartridges you’re using?” Eleanor asked, shifting around the perimeter of Mark’s cubical. Eleanor was old, too old to be working, according to Mark.

“What cartridges? You mean printer cartridges?” Mark asked. Eleanor rolled her eyes and jutted out one hip in a way that would have been considered sassy in her time, half a century before Mark’s time.

“Well of course, silly. What else would I be talking about?” she said. Mark wondered if she was flirting with him.

Mark knew what cartridges he was using but he didn’t want to tell Eleanor. It was his second day on the job and he could sense his coworkers listening, their ears straining against the silence and stretching over the tops of their cubicles.

“Uh, well, I—um—I-I’m not sure I need more—I just—” Mark was uncomfortable with his immaturity, that was the problem, he thought—to most people it was just a number.

Eleanor was standing behind him attempting to open his printer. “Here—let me take a look. I’m pretty sure you have 69," she said. "Oh dear, I don’t have my glasses, can you see that? Does it say 69? Without my glasses 9's and 6's always look the same to me!” Eleanor grabbed a pen and a notepad, ready to jot down his answer.

“Yes, 69.” Mark said, his voice squeaking on the nine. He looked away hoping to hide his flushed face.

“Pardon?” Eleanor looked at him, her face was like a map with deep lines leading to a treasure chest of more eager and antagonizing expressions. Mark wondered if this was a joke, a ritualistic hazing all his coworkers had undergone and now it was his turn to endure the awkward moment. Or, maybe, Eleanor really was flirting with him—he thought she had been overly friendly since he started, two days ago.

“I said 69! I’m using 69 printer cartridges!” Mark said in one shrill, anxious breath.

“Okay, good. Thank you. See that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Eleanor patted Mark on the shoulder. “So, you’re doing 69,” she said, writing it on her notepad. “Okay, I’ll let you have 69 for now but you might have to switch to another printer if 69 is on back order. I don’t know why—it’s just the darndest thing—but 69 is popular so it’s hardly ever in stock,” she paused for a moment, staring at her notepad while Mark sank deeper into his chair, willing the image a naked Eleanor out of his head. “Well, I suppose I need to find out if anyone else is doing 69 with you...” Eleanor looked around for a moment as if considering her next victim before walking back to the reception desk.