Between the Lines 02 (futa on male)

The next day Ben found himself staring at Ava nonstop. The blonde hair swung a little as she leaned closer the computer, most likely attempting to make sense of the anarchy Rich had left behind for her. She was tapping her finger on the mouse with an annoyed insistence. He should focus on his own work, he thought. Though the deadline loomed over him like a storm cloud, his eye was drawn to her, like a moth to a flame.

Rich was on her first day of employment immediately pushing her into the deep end. Classic Richard Jones power play: assign impossible tasks with minimal instruction, then criticize the outcome regardless of quality. Ben had been in that same storm for over two years, his skin toughened against the punches of the project manager, but seeing the new office member suffer, set something in his chest.

Rising from her desk, she leaned back somewhat and massaged her temples. The movement was subdued, just polished enough to prevent anybody passing from catching on to her irritation. Still, Ben understood the essence of the movement. On his own, he had done it many times.

She would much benefit from his assistance. That is the proper course of action. As he considered approaching the gorgeous coworker--especially one he hadn't spoken with before--his palms started to become a little moist on the keyboard. Suppose she felt he was acting rather patronizing? Oh dear, what would happen should Rich discover he was playing around with "his" new hire?

Ben changed his spectacles, an anxious habit he just couldn't kick. The movement did not help him to see well or to think. Glancing across to Ava's desk, he saw her busily cross-referencing something on her computer with a stack of printouts, blurring the code on his own display.

This was pure craziness. For heaven's sake, he was a senior developer. Offering help to a new coworker was completely normal. The fact that her smile had been engraved in his mind since first seeing her had nothing to do with professional courtesy.

Ben pulled his chair back and got up, attempting with each steady breath to slow his pounding heart. Though they seemed like a difficult road of self-doubt, the twelve steps between their desks kept him ahead one foot in front of the other. His hand rose slightly in a welcome as he walked up to her desk; he felt his throat was a little dry than normal.

"Hey Ava! Hey, Ben from the local development staff! Rich's instructions usually seem to be, quite 'creatively ambiguous.'" Ben's voice was more consistent than he expected, although his smile appeared a touch forced.

Ava looked up, clearly surprised on her face, and then there was a slow smile that wrinkled the margins of her eyes. You could sense her shoulders soften as she slid a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

Ava laughed, then said, "Wow, that's the most diplomatic way to describe the this confusing gibberish. Working on this was starting to give me a headache." Ava said, clearly bewildered by the assignment. "Nice to meet you, Ben."

She gestured to her screen, where Rich's comments were straightforward and the red lines depicted a battlefield with opposing directions evident definition.

As Ben moved closer trying to retain a respectful distance and gaze at her tablet, his anxiety started to ease. "Do you mind if I look at it? Over time, I have developed a sort of Rich-to English dictionary."

"Sure," she said, moving her chair neatly to provide some room. "I was five minutes away from asking if the plant bybthe break room was hiring."

Ben felt something shift in his chest as he heard the joke; he laughed and focused on the document.

Ben watched Ava glide her skirt back down, her hands running over her slender thighs. She tried to bring her legs together, as though they were uncomfortable or stiff.

As Ben walked up to Ava, he smelt her exquisite perfume--a delicate, floral scent that precisely fit her feminine style.

Ben leaned forward, his eyes darting over the complex commands on Ava's screen. He took a long breath and slid his spectacles up his nose's bridge.

"Okay, so what Rich is asking for here isn't as complicated as it seems," Ben said in a steady, quiet voice. "Let me see if I might simplify it."

As Ben explained things, breaking it down step by step, Ava's eyes brightened with understanding. She nodded with enthusiasm, her ponytail bouncing with every little movement.

"Okay! Yeah, I get it now. Nice!" Ava said, her fingers dancing across the keyboard. "So, instead of having to tweak each element by hand, we can just use this nested function to make all the changes at once?"

Ben couldn't help but smile at how quickly she got the concept. "Bingo! You're getting it."

Ava, with a playful glint in her eye, joked, "Sure, spreadsheets can be handy, but they're not the magic solution for saving this company!" Her words had a warm and genuine charm. Ben laughed warmly, clearly on the same page with her observation and pleasantly surprised that she had an opinion about it.

"You know," Ava said, a bit sarcastically, "for a company that says they're all about the users, they really don't put much effort into actual UX design."

Ben laughed and nodded in agreement. "Tell me about it. Sometimes it feels like I'm really struggling just to get the basic usability principles in place."

Ava relaxed in her chair, a playful smirk on her lip. "What if we kicked off a secret underground UX revolution? Make things user-friendly behind the scenes when no one is watching."

Ben chuckled, taken aback by how relaxed he was feeling. "Sure, I'm in. We'll be like UX ninjas, quietly moving around and improving those clunky interfaces when no one is watching."

While they were working, Ben noticed that Ava's enthusiasm seemed to spread to everyone around her, but he couldn't quite tell if she was being serious or just joking around. He was more lively than usual, using hand gestures as he talked about complex ideas.

While Ava was absorbed by the screen, Ben considered, *This is nice*, as he quickly glanced at her profile. *It has been some time since I connected with someone at work in this manner*.

Ava slid a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, and the computer screen's light glistened her blue eyes. "You know, I was an independent UI designer before I started this job. Talk about a rollercoaster."

Ben's eyebrows jumped, obviously curious. "Oh really? Whoa, that seems difficult!" Ava giggled, shook her head, "You really have no idea. One month I would be drowning in projects; the next I would be living off ramen noodles. And really, don't even start me on customers who believe that 'make it pop' is really useful criticism."

"Oh, so you chose for that corporate stability?" Ben inquired.

Her chuckle took on a rather sardonic tinge. Our hoped for stability was just that. "I had no idea I would be swapping client chaos for..." she said, glancing across to Rich's empty office, "... whatever you call this management style."

Ben remarked, "I believe the fancy term is 'organized confusion.'" Her laughter returned.

"You know what's really annoying?" Ava murmured, her demeanor turning to something more somber. "Here there is just so much potential. Though the product is excellent, the user experience seems rather out of current. Simple UI changes might greatly increase user involvement; unfortunately, every time I mention investing in UX, Rich seems to be suggesting we replace the servers with trained monkeys."

Ben nodded, a comfortable sense of connection developing between them. Ava kept offering her suggestions, and he couldn't help but consider all the opportunities whirl around in his head. Her keen interest in design and apparent previous experience made Ben wonder even more why she was stuck changing Rich's diapers.

Leaning forward in his chair, he asked, "What if we combined that swipe gesture you talked about with the new navigation system? It could help to smooth out the whole user experience."

Ava's eyes shone with eagerness. "Yes! Micro-animations would be very useful for guiding consumers across the process. Though subtle, it is really powerful."

Ben was nodding in line, genuinely following the conversation's natural flow and surprised by her confidence and know-how. After some years, he at last experienced a genuine thrill about a project he was working on at his company. Ben found himself thinking, *This is what teamwork is all about*, while they continued to flip around concepts.

He slumped back in his chair after chatting with Ava, his thoughts whirling with all the choices she had recommended. Her obvious genius caught his attention, and he thought her present role underused her. He turned to face Vice President Mia Sanders' frosted glass door across to the executive offices.

Drumming his fingers on the desk, he said, "Should I say something? Suppose I am going too far? But who will if I neglect to do it?"

He opened a blank email, and the pointer stayed there blinking at him as though it were evaluating. Breathing deeply, adjusting his glasses, Ben started typing: "Dear Ms. Sanders, I hope you're doing well. I wanted to share with you something interesting regarding our recent recruit, Ava Green. Her abilities in UX are quite promising."

His fingers flew over the computer, deftly sketching Ava's background and the new ideas she had contributed. He paused here and then to find the appropriate phrase, saying how her knowledge would surely be very helpful with their upcoming projects.

As Ben approached the climax, he stopped momentarily. Should things deviate from expectations? He looked briefly at Ava, totally engross in her work, her forehead wrinkled in focus.

"Hey, is everything alright?" Ava called to get his focus.

Ben quickly clicked the email's minimize button. "Yeah, I'm just... working through a problem," he said somewhat smiling.

He went back to his screen and again checked the email. His pulse pounding, he held his finger over the submit button. *This is it, he realized*.

He inhaled deeply and pushed "Send".

Ben leaned back in his chair, delight and warmth flooding over him. For a little period he closed his eyes, savoring the minor triumph. He opened his eyes once again and saw his picture on the computer screen; was a little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth?

Toying with his spectacles, he told himself softly, "I really did it." He glanced at Ava momentarily; she was completely engross in her work, her blonde hair softly bouncing as she bent down to check something on her computer. Not only was he helping her, but also he was at last speaking out for himself, a pleasant feeling coursed across his chest.

Ava saw his look and grinned briefly. "Hi Ben, Hey there! I wanted to thank you one more for your help. You are truly fantastic!"

Blushing significantly, he said, "Sure thing! You have some rather good suggestions! The office really is blessed to have you!"

Ava's eyes lit with delight. "Aw, you're gonna make me blush. I truly value that; it means a lot coming from a fellow ninja."

She turned back to her work, and Ben's mind wandered to his most recent round of letdowns. The woman who spoke about her ex for the whole evening. The one most fascinated in her phone than in him. None of them had sparked the same sense of connection he felt with Ava.

*Her sense of humor, the way she lights up talking about design...* Ben caught himself mid-thought. *No, no. Recall the rule: never have workplace relationships.

Still, he couldn't help but sneak another look at Ava, a little grin tugging at his lips even as he attempted to focused on his task.

After hours of intense concentration, Benjamin Jennings peered at his computer screen as the lines of code blended together. He looked at the clock--6:30 PM. He sighed, moved back from his desk, then stretched to feel the tension in his shoulders.

From the cubicle across, Jeremy said, "Another late night, Ben?"

Ben answered, sardonically smiling, "You know it. But I'm finally calling it quits for today."

Ben's mind strayed to the woman he matched with on his dating app while he packed his laptop. Melissa. He had taken great enjoyment in their provocative scrabble banter following his introductory speech. Though he was shy asking her on a date, he went ahead. About this one he felt good.

He absentively stroked his somewhat soft midsection. Perhaps it was time to start getting in shape again.

"Hey Jeremy, is the late office gym still open?" Ben questioned.

Jeremy startledly turned to look up. "Yeah, it is open twenty-four hours a day. Not even aware you made use of it though."

Ben laughed. "Generally, not sure. But realized if I wanted to wauw the ladies, I should start some place."

"Good luck, man. Those tools most likely missed you." Jeremy winked then vanished behind the dividing line.

Ben threw his bag over his shoulder and started toward the exit, his usually slow walk accelerated by a fresh goal. When he signed three years ago, the gym membership had been praised as a corporate benefit; however, like the free lunches and quarterly team-building activities, it had become background noise in his daily life.

Ben found himself mentally compiling the exercises he faintly recalled from his undergraduate years as he passed row after row of vacant cubicles. Push-ups. Sit-ups. That item with the weights where you... lift them? His technical mind, so exact when coding, became shockingly nebulous when applied to exercise.

Ben couldn't help but worry, though, if returning in shape would be more difficult than troubleshooting the code he had abandoned upstairs as he entered and hit the parking garage button.

Ben sensed a different energy in the air as he approached the lift. Sure, he was a little out of shape. He was undoubtedly intelligent, industrious, and, fingers crossed, at least somewhat charming. That most certainly changed the dating scene.

As it arrived, the elevator chimed gently. Ben entered, ready to face whatever obstacles arose - in the gym and outside as well.

His shadow moved and grew beneath the fluorescent lamp above as he descended the elevator into the chilly parking garage. When most of the parking spaces were empty, the huge concrete area felt even more expansive. Combining pollution with the place smelt slightly of something like perfume or maybe air freshener.

Ben walked with a dreadful sense of inevitability directing his feet, his hair on the back of his neck standing up. He felt a little awkward in such settings always. It could have been the building's odd environment, caught between inside and outdoors, like a concrete jungle between work and house. Alternatively, perhaps it was all those trash slasher movies from which nothing great ever arose from a place like this.

"Just grab the gym clothes and head out," he told himself, his voice faintly resonating in the silence all around.

One of the above lights was flickering as if it were attempting to send a frantic Morse code message, perhaps asking for a maintenance inspection that would never come.

Like Ben, his Civic was in its usual pragmatic stance. With a tap on his key, the automobile chirped in friendly greeting as he opened it.

Benevolent under a reusable shopping bag and an emergency roadside kit was a workout bag that had seen better days. Surprised at the amount of dust coating the nylon surface, Ben pulled it out. He unzipped to discover gym shorts, a faded t-shirt, and running shoes he had presumably packed months ago following a New Year's resolution that had lasted almost two weeks.

He gave the clothing careful sniffles. Their scent was more of disuse than of perspiration; suitable for an unplanned workout?

Ben closed the trunk and his mind turned to the mounds of code he had been staring at all day. Usually energizing him, the logic puzzles felt like a drag today; his head too crowded with debugging mistakes and dating fears to discover the elegant answers he valued.

Before him the parking garage seemed to go on forever, the exit signs shining in the faint light with unearthly brightness. Ben's steps came in a consistent cadence, a human metronome indicating time in an otherwise motionless surroundings.

The elevator doors shone like a passage into another world. Ben glimpsed his reflection in the polished metal as he got closer; his posture already seemed more upright than it had been when he left his desk. Maybe the simple choice to alter his schedule started to change something inside him already.

The doors opened softly, a pneumatic sigh inviting him into the little area. Ben felt his workload starting to lift as he climbed near the gym floor. The parking garage, with its terrible emptiness and liminal quality, vanished beneath him like a fleeting dream, replaced by the mounting expectation of sweating out his mental congestion and maybe, just perhaps, starting the path to impress a possible date.

Motion-activated lights came to life as Ben pushed open the large gym door, exposing an area obviously past its best. One wall was lined with antiquated treadmills with barely blinking monitors; a set of mismatched free weights occupied a worn rubber mat in the corner.

"Well, this is... quaint," Ben said, his first excitement somewhat waning. He ran a hand through his already messy hair, spectacles sloppily falling down his nose, then looked about.

Ben's first excitement deflated like a balloon left one week ago. His mental picture of a shining modern workout center with inspirational posters and motivating background music vanished, replaced by the reality of this sad assembly of lost fitness dreams.

"Well, beggars can't be choosers," he said, setting his messenger bag on a plastic chair resembling one taken from a conference room in the 1990s. "Also free is free."

Though disappointed, Ben's analytical approach took front stage. He started planning a possible exercise schedule and mentally organizing the accessible tools. Looking at an odd weight machine, he said, "Okay, so maybe I can start with some cardio, then move on to... whatever that contraption is supposed to be."

Ben's phone buzzed in his pocket as he turned toward the dressing rooms. He dug it out and saw a warning from his dating app. Melissa, had answered.

As he read her note--which featured a joke about code that was just true enough to be humorous without seeming researched--his lips twisted into an involuntary smile.

Lost in contemplation of the new dating prospect, Ben's feet moved forward automatically. "Maybe I should change my profile picture," he said, hardly realizing his surroundings. "Is using a gym selfie overly cliched? Most likely God, I am horrible at this."

He went toward what he thought was the men's locker area, looked over his profile wording. "Software developer who spends too much time debugging code and not enough time outdoors," his bio said in agonizing honesty. "Seeking someone that enjoys nice coffee and awful puns."

Ben searched for a method for dating success--some magical mix of profile images, witty opening words, and timing that would maximize his chances of connecting. Should such a method be possible, it would most likely be worth millions.

"Maybe I should work on that instead of solving bugs," he said, opening a door and still looking over Melissa's profile.

First he smelled something: a faint floral perfume that felt especially inappropriate in what ought to be a men's bathroom. Ben's intellect still half engaged with Melissa's remarkable list of hiking achievements while his nose furrowed slightly in uncertainty.

"I wonder if there's an optimal response time," he asked aloud at last turning from his phone. " Too slow seems uninterested; too quick seems desperate..."

His voice faded as his surrounds started to register. With better lighting and... was that a basket of complementary hair items on a shelf? The locker room before him was cleaner than he expected. Though his confused mind couldn't find exactly what, something about the space looked clearly wrong.

Ben's mental path veered off course as a soft, floral aroma drifted passed his nose. He blinked, suddenly conscious of looking up from his phone. Along with the humidity, the air smelled like perfume. He started to have a creeping doubt.

His eyes were riveted on his phone screen as the door closed behind him, mentally arranging a clever reply to Melissa's message. Though he blamed poor ventilation in the aging gym facilities, the damp air he encountered felt different somehow - warmer, more humid than he had imagined. His brain didn't recognize the first clue something was wrong until the soft floral aroma floated past his nose.

"Maybe I'll mention that debugging joke," he said, thumbing over the simulated keyboard. Not too nerdy, yet nerdy enough to exhibit genuineness..."

Somewhere above, a drip of condensation dropped exactly on his screen. Still absorbed on perfecting the message, Ben absently cleaned it away. His feet moved him along on autopilot; his attention was elsewhere but muscle memory from years of negotiating environments drove him onward.

Under his feet, the tile floor was damp in some areas, with tiny puddles mirroring the above illumination in precisely little pools. Another drop of water dropped on his shoulder, so ruining his shirt. Ben shook his head slightly, his attention eventually veering from the screen as the ambient cues gathered like warning flags.

His phone buzzed once more, another alarm, but for once the digital warning neglected his immediate attention. The thickening steam hanging in the air produced a foggy environment that warped the distant margins of the space. The dampness on his spectacles made him squint, like walking across a cloud.

"This cannot be right," he said, his words almost audible as they left his lips.

As Ben's logical thinking at last caught up with his senses, his heart started to pulse somewhat faster. These elements created a pattern: the floral aroma, the immaculate condition, the well-organized amenities; the ending they suggested shocked his system.

"I'm in the women's locker room," he said, realizing with growing terror.

His body tightened, preparing for a fast getaway, when the sound of metal rings on a shower pole sliced across the humid air. Ben stopped in place as the loud bang bounced from the tiled walls, much as a terrified deer caught in headlights.

From behind one of the curtained shower stalls came a figure covered in steam, like a mythological being crossing the mists. Softly tapping water drops on the tiled floor created a cadence that seemed to reflect Ben's heart's abrupt quick hammering.

Totally blind to his existence, Ava came out of the shower stall, fiercely drying her hair with a towel thrown over her head. Her motions were unhurried and relaxed, those of someone who felt they were alone. The steam spiraled around her naked body, sometimes reducing to display flashes of skin before thickening once again as though the mist itself were a taunting friend.

Ben remained rooted to the ground, his muscles not reacting to every urgent call to movement. His brain yelled out at his limbs, "Move. Just back away gently."

But his body remained rigid while Ava dried her hair--her face covered by the towel. She mumbled something soft and faint, the tune merging with the background noise of flowing water and the far-off buzz of the building's ventilation system.

The steam parted like theatrical curtains, revealing Ava totally for a brief, lifetime. Ben's brain struggled to grasp what he was seeing as her naked form surfaced from the mist. His eyes tracked the usual feminine forms: her delicate shoulders dropped to a little waist, her hips' modest curvature. Water drops adhering to her skin caught the light and gave her almost ghostly quality.

Her breasts were smaller than he had thought (not that he would have deliberately imagined them, he assured himself), but rather precisely shaped, rising and falling softly with every breath, with tiny, sensitive nipples that seemed to highlight their perfection. Her flat and slightly toned belly, which showed evidence of regular exercise, was highlighted by smooth, flushed from the hot shower skin.

Ben's eyes dropped below, tracking a water drop down her flat stomach. Expecting the usual feminine anatomy, his eyes descended and widened in disbelief behind his fogged spectacles.

Where he expected to find feminine genitalia, there hung instead a penis and balls, not just any penis but one of amazing proportions. It stretched long and shockingly disproportionate to her thin frame, between her legs. The shaft was very large, with notable veins running over its surface that tailed to a head somewhat darker than the remainder. It was naked of hair, its surface as flawless as the rest of her flesh, cuthered.

It hung heavily between her thighs and seemed to be much bigger than he'd ever seen, even in its flaccid form.

Ben's brain malfunctioned. Ava's feminine traits--her delicate face, the curve of her breasts, her slender and toned waist - created cognitive dissonance between them and the unquestionably male appendage she possessed, which caused mental traffic congestion of contradictory ideas.

"This isn't... she can't... how does she..." The bits of questions collided in his head; none of them came together since fresh ones were right away replacing them.

The steam changed once more, briefly hiding her before clearing to expose her still blissfully ignorant of his presence continuing to dry her hair. Ben wondered fleetingly whether he had fallen asleep at his desk and was experiencing an exceptionally vivid dream because of the strange character of the occasion.

From the showerhead, water kept drizzling, each drop forming concentric circles as it landed on little pools on the floor. Ben's reality corrected itself around this new knowledge, but the mesmerizing repetitive pattern felt almost as though the cosmos was trying to offer a meditative focus point.

Now his glasses had fogged almost entirely, the condensation softening the nuances of what he was seeing. Still, the contour of Ava's body, all of it, was clear even through the fog.

Usually so rational and orderly, Ben's mind reached for explanations. Apart from that one element, her figure was obviously that of a woman. Now the discrepancy between the Ava he knew professionally and the Ava before him felt like two different worlds meeting.

At last the towel dropped from her head to show her face flushed from heat and effort. Her normally brilliant golden hair clung to her neck in darker tones. Ben felt, for a little, terrible moment, that he might yet have a chance to withdraw silently and spare them both the immediate humiliation. He had assumed he had remained invisible.

Then Ava's suddenly wide, brilliant blue eyes locked with his.

Time appeared to compress and extend at once. The moment of mutual awareness passed a fraction of a second as well as an eternity. Her look changed from calm satisfaction to frightened awareness in the course of a heartbeat.

Ben opened his mouth but no words came out. Given what he might potentially say, "sorry for seeing you naked" sounded pathetically insufficient. Certainly inappropriate was "I didn't know you had a penis". Already burdened by the unexpected anatomical disclosure, his social processing system failed entirely to produce a suitable reaction to the circumstances.

Ava responded with similar frozen clarity. Her hands reacted naturally to cover herself; one arm crossed over her breasts while the other hand moved lower, failing to conceal even a quarter of her member. The gesture came too late. Damage had been done. They both understood it.

"I..." - Ben at last managed, his voice breaking like a teenager's. " wrong room. I am very - "

The rest of his apology vanished when his fight-or-flight reaction at last, gently, decided flight. His legs, leaden till now, came quickly to remember how to operate. He whirled so fast that his spectacles almost flew off his face and stumbled to reach for his exercise bag from the floor.

Bracing himself against the wall across the women's locker room, Ben's hands shook. His imagination recreated the scene in great clarity, yet his breath came in short, terrified gasped. Ava's body, the steam, the water drops, everything.

"Oh god," he said along the vacant hall. "Oh god, oh god, oh god."

His lips felt dry, his ideas strewn like jigsaw pieces thrown haplessly from their box. How would he ever be able to look her in the eye again? What was the office policy for unintentionally spotting a coworker in the nude? Was an HR manual for this particular situation available? He doubted it.

Ben turned back toward the elevator with leaden steps, leaving behind the basic reality he had known only fifteen minutes earlier.

With jerky, uncoordinated urgency, Ben staggered across the glass doors of the gym like a man running from a natural calamity. After the steam-filled locker room, the fluorescent lights of the corridor looked abnormally luminescent; each ceiling panel burned his retinas as he squinted his way toward the elevator. Usually a disciplined storehouse of logical ideas and linear thinking, his mind had become a disorganized mess of broken images all of which showed Ava in different naked states.

His finger slammed the elevator call button repeatedly, each press more forceful than the next as if the frequency may somehow correspond to faster arrival. Ben virtually lunged inside, pushing himself against the rear wall as if attempting to put maximum space between himself and the image of his mortification. The doors finally slid open with a happy ding that felt mockingly wrong.

With mechanical apathy to the crisis of its occupant, the elevator dropped toward the parking garage. Ben hardly recognized himself as he fixed his hazy reflection in the polished metal doors. His glasses sat askew on his nose, his hair stood at unusual angles where he would run his fingers through it in anguish, and his look reflected someone who had just seen something unbelievable -- which in a sense he had.

Ben stopped when the doors opened to show the parking garage's concrete expanse. Leaving the building meant accepting the reality of what had occurred. Inside, he could still act as though it were all a weird dream brought on by insufficient sleep and too many coding hours. Outside, in the real world, he would have to start the process of matching what he knew about Ava before today with what he had just unearthed.

He dropped his car keys twice before he could unlock his Civic's door. He struggled with them. Slumping into the driver's seat, the known interior provided little solace. Hands limp on the driving wheel, he sat still for several long minutes staring blankly at the concrete wall before him.

Ava's penis had been insanely big. No other language had a word for it. It was huge even in its flaccid state; he had to admit it: bigger than his own, much bigger. The memory sent an unpleasant heat creeping over his face. Why was he comparing? Given many more important consequences to handle, why was that particular detail even registering?

Ben turned on the car; the sound of the engine welcomed him from his thoughts. Typical evening traffic would take about twenty-two minutes for the drive home; this is a reasonable, predictable fact he clung to like a lifeline among the sea of uncertainty suddenly enveloping his awareness of Ava.

Muscle memory took over where conscious thought failed as Ben negotiated out of the parking garage, his mind racing to make sense of conflicts.

Ava had always seemed to him as absolutely feminine with her soft features and elegant motions. Her penmanship curled and flowed, her laughing sounded musical. She wore dresses and skirts, never pants, and her approach clearly feminine without being too provocative. Nothing about her had ever proposed as masculinity in any sense.

The road opened out before him, taillights merging into streaks of red as his attention strayed between driving and the constant picture of Ava that refused to leave his head. How had he never seen? Had there been indications he had missed?

Ben mentally noted their exchanges and looked for hints he might have missed. Her occasional awkwardness in some chairs and movement when seated for too long suggested something. She favored looser skirts over tighter ones, although he would have explained this as a basic taste in style. He had hardly noticed until now the slight change she sometimes made to her clothes when standing from a seated position.

"Stop it," he ordered himself, firmly clutching the steering wheel. "This is nothing of your business."

But the analytical side of his brain--that which solved challenging code problems for a living - refused to let go of this fresh enigma. She managed it in what way? Just the physical logistics looked difficult. Her wardrobe selections suddenly seemed calculated rather than just beautiful.

Ben remembered the pleated garment she had worn last Wednesday, a checkered skirt just above her knees. It had seemed quite normal, devoid of any indication of what lied under. Had she somehow buried herself away? The realities of this kind of setup caused his head to float.

Ben was jerked back to the present by a vehicle horn. He had wandered half into the adjacent lane, his attention turning hazardous. He adjusted his course and made the next exit with mechanical accuracy under forced focus.

Ahead loomed his apartment complex, a generic five-story construction never previously felt like heaven. Now it stood for seclusion, a location he could digest this disclosure without stumbling across Ava or anybody else from the office.

Ben parked and headed for his second-floor apartment, his thoughts following their round path. His mind jerked back to Ava like a rubber band stretched too tight every time he attempted to focus on something else - anything else.

His response to it troubled him, not only what he had witnessed. Though the first shock was anticipated, the residual interest that followed was unexpected. He started worrying about features of Ava's anatomy that had none influence on their professional relationship and were completely none of his concern.

Ben opened his flat door and entered; the familiar surroundings provided little solace. He went automatically; shoes off at the door, keys in the porcelain bowl on the entrance table, bag deposited on the couch. The daily activities ground him somewhat and bind him to normal even while his ideas kept whirl-around.

Suddenly conscious of how dry his mouth had grown, he poured a glass with water and gulped three large gulps in the kitchen. The chilly drink offered brief solace, but it did little to clear the pictures etched into his mind.

Ben slanted against the counter, his reflection warped in the microwave door. "What am I even thinking about?" he queried his distorted view. "It's just Ava, my colleague. nothing has changed."

Everything had changed, except that. Every encounter they had, every chat, every lunch break they shared--all of it now tinted with this fresh understanding. Could he glance at her without remembering? Knowing what he had witnessed, could she even look at him?

Tomorrow stretched out like a sentence. He would have to show up for work, sit at his cubicle just feet from hers, and somehow pretend today never occurred. The possibility felt unreal.

One hand checking the water temperature, Ben stood in his bathroom as vapor started to occupy the little area. He decided the shower would clear his head of the pictures that refused to depart, wipe away the uncertainty clinging to him like a second skin, therefore washing away more than just the daily tension. Though a voice in the back of his head warned that certain discoveries couldn't be undone, no matter how hot the water streamed down his fingertips, it promised solace.

"Just a normal shower," he murmured to himself as mechanical efficiency stripped off his clothing. "Consider everyday objects. Job. code. The bugs."

Reaching for the shampoo container, he worked a glob he squeezed into his palm into his hair. His nose was assaulted with the familiar grounding perfume of mint and tea tree oil, which had accompanied many morning rituals. The daily habit of shampooing his hair gave his wild ideas some temporary organization and a straightforward chore with obvious start and finish.

Ben attempted to concentrate on his next workweek as he washed the shampoo from his hair and rivulets of water flowed down his back. He went over the authentication flaw he had been having mentally, the nested if-statements that had produced an unanticipated logical mistake. The challenge was charmingly complicated, the type he often focused entirely on.

But the coding denied to retain his interest now. Ava's face kept showing up between lines of imagined grammar, her expression frozen in that instant of startled awareness when she knew he had seen her. Not helping was the steam building around him, faithfully reflecting the locker room environment.

Ben closed his eyes, but the blackness between his eyelids only served to improve the projection screen for the memory: Ava rising from the shower, water glittering on her skin, her form both familiar and shockingly unexpected.

"Stop it," he said, eyes awake. He ordered himself. In diversion, he grabbed for the body wash and squeezed too much into his palm. The extra soap dropped in a thick pool between his fingers onto the shower floor.

Ben attempted focusing his mind on his forthcoming date with Melissa while he pushed the soap into a lather over his arms and chest. She was smart, beautiful, and by all signs classically feminine. He should be thinking about her, planning their meeting, not obsessing on Ava's body.

He attempted to conjure Melissa's image from her dating profile: her brown hair trapped in a ponytail, her grin broad and real, taken at twilight on some mountain route. But Melissa's features dissolving and reorganizing into Ava's delicate face caused the vision to wobble and change; her blue eyes grew shocked.

Steam filled his lungs with every breath as the water kept hammering on his back. Ben made himself concentrate on the physical sensations: the slipperiness of soap between his fingers, the warmth of water against his skin, the minute pressure changes as he moved beneath the shower head.

These bodily features were secure, impartial, unable to guide him down the bewildering routes his mind seemed set to go. But even these feelings deceived him; the steam and warmth too suggestive of the locker room, the slick touch of soap too readily connected with moist flesh.

Ben's hand dropped lower, methodically stroking his stomach with languid motions slowing as they neared his crotch. His thoughts drifted over recollections of Ava, and he became abruptly, uncomfortably cognizant of his rising arousal, a physical reaction that had evolved without his conscious awareness.

"No," he said, the word vanishing into the constant patter of water. "This is not... I am not..."

His body, though, was unconcerned by his objections. He was definitely getting hard. Ben struggled to understand the unexpected erection while still immobile beneath the shower spray, water running down his face.

He had always been very consistent about his own sexuality. Women drew him in; their softness, their feminine traits, their curves--and vaginas. In former times, he had dated many real ladies. Even slept next some of them. Still, here he was, driven by the memory of Ava -- not in spite of what he had witnessed but rather in part.

Ben pressed his face on the chilly tile wall; the temperature contrast gave brief lucidity. Maybe the labeling made no difference. Maybe what counted was his straightforward impression of Ava as a whole rather than as a set of separated bits.

But this intellectual method neglected his boner and the turmoil it produced. Ben was used to organization and clear, logical structures as a coder. His draw to Ava resisted such structure, being in the vague area between set classifications.

As the water started to chill, his elderly apartment building's hot water tank reached capacity. Ben scarcely noticed; his mind was focused on ever more exact memories of Ava's body. The graceful curve of her neck, the perfect symmetry of her breasts, the surprising presence between her legs.

His hand dropped, fingers encircling his manhood almost on their own will. The physical touch shocked his system, not just with pleasure but also with humiliation. Was he actually about to do this?

Ben twitched the thermostat knob toward frigid. The water temperature dropped like a thousand little needles on his hot flesh. He gasped; the jolt would be the diversion he sorely needed. The cold water reduced his erection and briefly cleared his head, doing what willpower could not.

Ben turned off the water and left the shower when he could endure the cold no more, snatching a towel from the rack nearby. His motions sharp and deliberate as he dried himself trying to make sense of what had transpired.

Physical attractiveness defied rationality. It defied regard for classifications or norms. It was just what it was. Maybe there was no use in trying to understand why he thought Ava was beautiful with her unusual physique. The more crucial question was what he meant to do about it: he determined categorically, absolutely nothing.

Ben wiped a clean spot in the fogged mirror while wrapping the towel around his waist. He briefly examined his reflection, critically. Water drops hung over his shoulders; his hair stuck at strange angles. Although he tried to seem unaffected, his disingenuous demeanor revealed another narrative.

"Get it together," he said to his mirror sharply. "She works with you in business. This is wrong on several levels."

He left the restroom wearing a faded T-shirt and fresh boxers. The regular ritual of getting ready for bed provided some solace, a return to normalcy following a day unlike any other.

Ben sat on the edge of his mattress in his bedroom running his hands through his damp hair. Tomorrow would present different difficulties: meeting Ava, getting his phone back, acting as though nothing had happened. But tonight he had to settle his inner struggle sufficiently for sleep.

Ben sank back on his bed, fixated on the ceiling. The easiest course of action was probably to accept his attraction as an intriguing but pointless bit of self-awareness and carry on. His contact with Ava was businesslike. Their job contacts had no room for any odd chemistry they might have shared.

Besides, he was looking forward to date with Melissa. A regular date with a woman who most certainly possessed all the required physical traits in all the usual locations. Not surprising, not confusing, nor challenging about sexuality and desire.

Ben's thoughts kept restlessly searching alternatives while he tried to fall asleep. Ava might not show up to work tomorrow. She may call in sick, allowing them time to sort out what had happened. Alternatively she may act as though nothing had happened, a consensual deception allowing their professional relationship to carry on unhappily.

Ben's last conscious thought was of Ava's eyes at that moment of recognition, not the shock or guilt but something deeper he had seen beneath those instantaneous emotions as sleep finally claimed him. Something that may have been weakness, or maybe a query reflecting his own perplexity.

Ben felt like he hadn't slept at all by morning, when his alarm jangled him awake. The relentless sunshine streaming through his shutters made him squint and feel unprepared for the day to come.

Sitting up, he ran his hands through his hair - which had dried in wild patterns throughout the evening. The confusion and desire of the previous evening had left him with an unease that wouldn't go away.

He reminded himself, "one step at a time," as he threw his legs over the edge of the bed. "Change into your outfit. Go to your job. Act regular."

As Ben dressed for work, selecting one of his standard button-downs and a pair of khakis that neither stood out nor faded into invisibility, he made a decision. He would put yesterday's discovery aside, focus on his work, and proceed with his date with Melissa. He would pursue the life he had planned, the straightforward path that made sense to him and to the world.

Ava's secret was her own. His unexpected reaction to it was a curiosity, nothing more. With time and distance, both would fade into insignificance.

This resolution felt solid as Ben locked his apartment door behind him. It remained intact as he walked to his car, as he navigated morning traffic, as he parked in his usual spot in the company garage.

But as he rode the elevator up to his floor, a flutter of anticipation in his stomach betrayed the fragility of his determination. Despite his best intentions, his mind still burned with curiosity about Ava -- not just about her huge dick, but about her life, her experiences, her perception of the world. And beneath that curiosity lay something warmer, more dangerous.

Ben stepped out of the elevator, his carefully constructed normalcy already beginning to crack. Whatever happened next, one thing was certain -- the simple reality he had known before yesterday was gone, replaced by something far more complex, far more interesting, and far more frightening than he had ever anticipated.

Ben decided as he got ready for work, choosing one of his regular button-downs and a pair of khakis that neither really stood out nor vanished into oblivion. He would set aside yesterday's finding, concentrate on his job, and then hopefully go on his date with Melissa. He would follow the life he had scheduled, the clear road that fit the world and him.

Ava hid her secret from everyone. His surprising response to it was curiosity--nothing more. Distance and time would cause both to fade into insignificance.

As Ben secured his apartment door behind him, this determination seemed firm. It stayed the same as he made his way to his car, negotiating morning traffic, then parked in his customary place in the corporate garage.

But a flutter of expectation in his gut exposed the frailty of his will as he took the elevator up to his floor. Though he meant well, his thoughts still blazed with questions about Ava about her life, experiences, perspective on the world, not only about her great dick. And under that interest rested something darker, more frightening.

Ben left the elevator, his well crafted normality already starting to fracture. One thing was clear: the basic world he had known before yesterday was gone, replaced by something far more complicated, far more fascinating, and far more terrifying than he had ever dreamed.