“This is my desk. I’m Fabricia Amabile, secretary to The Boss – he insists that all we are just colleagues and hates being called that, but everyone does behind his back. You need anything that involves documents, I’m your angel.”

I still wondered about the woman’s abuse warning. Whatever it was, it looked like I haven’t done it – she appeared sincerely welcoming.

“These two doors are changing rooms, ours is this one. Next to it is the restroom.” She winced. It took me a moment to remember how squeamish women tend to be. “This is the office of the data processing group.” She pointed to the next door. “All women, that’s why we call it The Boudoir. The Boss says we tend to be more punctual and precise than men.” There was pride in her voice. I felt a bit of offense, but carefully kept a neutral face – the damn bodysuit might reflect my expression. She knocked on the door and, without waiting a response, pulled me inside:

“Hello, girls! Meet our new colleague, Alexandra Manzoni.”

The room was about five meters wide and eight long. Three working desks and a couple of cabinets at each of the longer sides. Couple of big pots with plants near the all-wall window at its far side. The two desks closest to the window were free, there were women behind the rest, dressed in identical light blue jackets, white blouses and knee-long skirts, just like Fabrizia. The company uniform, I guessed.

How do women behave when they meet first? Kissing and hugging one another?

“Ms. Manzoni, meet the team lead, Maria Rodolfo.”

“Nice to meet you. Call me Maria.” She was about fifty, a bit younger than Fabricia. Steely gray eyes. And a handshake as firm as man’s. Definitely a no-nonsense woman. Kissing and hugging her would obviously be a mistake, between women or not.

“Or Mommy.” smiled another woman. “She’s the matriarch here.” Everyone giggled. I just nervously smiled. Being alone among women wasn’t my preferred environment, even without this masquerade… I had to be extra careful, to not compromise it before I have even started work!

“Um, it is pleasure to meet you,” I stammered and felt blushing. Hope that the bodysuit didn’t show it.

“What a shy girl,” continued the other woman. Damn that fucking betraying suit! “Don’t be afraid, sweetie, we don’t eat women here, only men. I am Lucrezia Calvano.” She was short, jolly and busty. Look at her eyes only, I reminded myself. “Call me Lu. Data entering and processing, and also proofing and checking.”

“It is pleasure to meet you.” I stammered even more. Was my secret discovered, or that was just a joke? One too raunchy for a woman? Why then the others didn’t shush her?…

“This is Graziella Santomauro,” Fabricia continued behind me. “Going by Grace. Also, a Jack of all trades, like all of us.”

The woman that rose from the desk was at least half a head taller than me. Her face had enough make-up on to paint a wall with, and her neckline was low enough to reveal a lot. If there was something in there to reveal, that is. I again reminded myself to keep my eyes up at her face.

“I’m delighted, dear.” Even to my unused to hints ears that sounded like “May you drown in molten lead, dear.”

“My pleasure.” What had I bungled that badly?! I felt like I was on another planet. A warning about abusing the mentality of the boss, then no-nonsense in a woman and crude sexual jokes from another one, and unprovoked hatred from yet another?! I suddenly felt an urge to run away.

“That is Vincenza Panno, or Vinnie,” Fabricia continued. “Also an excellent specialist, despite being for only six months with us.”

The skirt of Vincenza, unlike the others, fell almost to the ground – and when she rose up and came nearer, I could notice her limping slightly. Probably had a leg problem and covered it with the skirt.

“It is a p-pleasure for me, Ms. Manzoni.”. Her eyes had the look of a scared little animal. All about her screamed “It is not your fault that you are beautiful, it is my fault that I am not.” No make-up or anything. “I do, mmm, mostly d-data entering, and translations of o-orders and tasks.”

“The pleasure is mine.” I smiled and took her small, slightly limp hand.

“Ms. Manzoni sounds a bit too official,” Ms. Rodolfo… Maria… Mommy said. “How do you prefer to be called?”

“Um, my name is Alexandra, but they call me Alex.” I felt blushing again. That bodysuit had me lying in one morning more times than during all of my life before.

“Alex? Isn’t that too masculine for so sweet and shy a girl? Wouldn’t you prefer to be called something nicer? What about Lexie?”

Had she noticed something? Was she checking if I am a man in a disguise?!

“I, um, would love that.” I hurried to assure her and felt my cheeks burning with shame. Damn women!

“Both shy and modest. No such girls anymore. Sweetie, you probably come from the times when the women were real women,” Lucrezia smiled. The burning on my cheeks strengthened – and, judging by the smiles of the women against me, the suit reflected it.

“Come on, girls, she will be working right here, you will have plenty of time to embarrass her,” Fabricia said behind me. “Lexie, may I call you that? Come to see the rest of the company.”

I followed her, feeling strange. I usually never noticed of women more than their appearance. Well, and how fit they are for the trail I had to lead them on in the mountain. Now, I could tell about their characters about as much as about the characters of the men I met. Was the bodysuit affecting my thinking? Or this was due to having to stare at their faces instead of at their breasts?

“This door on the opposite is a storage room. Next to it is the room of Antonio Scalzi, the marketing manager. He is currently in Naples, negotiating with the city administration for some orders.” Her wince was more apparent than ever before. “You already know the next room, it is the office of The Boss and also a meeting room. Between it and The Boudoir is the data analysis and reports team office. Nicknamed The Cave, because all there are men. Again, a preference of The Boss – he believes that men spot patterns better.” Even to my eye, used to rocks rather than humans, it was obvious that she didn’t believe it. Well, I will quickly prove you wrong, Madame Fabricia.

Or would I? Damn the bodysuit…

“Come in, don’t be afraid.” She again knocked and entered without waiting, towing me in. “Hi all! Meet our new colleague, Alexandra Manzoni. Hope you will behave around her.”

The room was identical to The Boudoir, except for the lack of plants near the window. And that the four men there wore dark blue suits, like The Boss. Oh, and that their eyes, unlike women’s, were scanning me all up and down. I frantically tried to control myself. Damn masquerade! If women had to deal with this all the time…

Next to me, Fabricia tactfully pretended to cough:

“This is Nicola Petruccio, the team lead,” she nodded to the first desk on the right side. Behind him sat a man about fifty, not very fat but definitely unfit for even an easy mountain trail. Big and round nose, short hairy fingers – he looked exactly like the typical office worker that I so often saw going up the mountain to just gaze around and take a zillion of photos.

“Ugh… sorry, Miss… Miss Manzoni! Just Nicola. It is my pleasure to meet you. Should you need something, I would be glad to help you!” He rose and shook energetically my hand.

“I do not doubt that,” smiled Fabricia. “Especially if your wife does not learn about it.”

Everybody chuckled, including Nicola. Either he had a good sense of humor, or that about his wife was a running joke in the company.

“Here is Filippo Mastroianni,” Fabricia continued. “Says he is a relative of that actor of old. Senior data analyst, does report writing too.”

“It is my pleasure, Ms. Manzoni. Just Filippo,” he rose up and bowed slightly. About forty, tall, broad-shouldered and trim at the same time, with a face like a rom-com star, he looked like he could be an actor himself. With a couple of months of exercise, he could be a good mountain walker, maybe even a bit of a climber. His smile was sincere and slightly naive, and his handshake was firm – I immediately liked him. Such people are rarely a trouble in the mountain, despite usually being inexperienced.

“Also known as Casanova,” noted the man at the desk behind him. He managed to earn my immediate dislike. I had seen a smile and a way of looking at the others like his more than a few times. Spoiled boys who come to the mountain just to impress the girls, and who believe that the world is theirs and owes them whatever they whim for. Always demand everything and will never hold if you slip. Never relying on them for anything is life-saving up there.

“I am Antonio Cardinale, data analysis and reprocessing. Pleased to meet you.” He took my hand and squeezed it slightly in a way that instantly revolted me. I had to fight the urge to pull it back. When he released it, I noticed that his shoes looked costly and pretentious. Glanced to Fabricia – if I had read correctly her expression, she shared my opinion on him.

“Everybody calls him Tony. And this is Gabriel Rizzo, aka Gab, also data analysis and reprocessing.”

“Umm, glad to see you, Miss Manzoni.” Like Tony, Gab appeared to be at or about just under thirty, but the similarities ended there. Bony frame, big head with close-cropped hair, thick square glasses. While raising up, he accidentally pushed the phone from his desk on the floor, and hesitated whether to pick it first, or to shake hands with me. I had seen plenty of those, too – nice but clumsy and always distracted boys. Good companions on a mountain trail, will not complain and will carry on while they can, but don’t let them climb rocks, they will always bungle something and put themselves in danger.

“Fabricia, could you please find me the contract with Sicily Health Directorate? It’s urgent,” The Boss suddenly said from the direction of the door, right behind our backs. I almost jumped up – hadn’t heard him approaching.

“Right now, Mr. Montafun. Lexie, could you wait just a moment, please?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned back and the two disappeared from the door opening.

“Back to work, boys! Tomorrow we must submit this report,” called Nicola. The four sets of eyes turned to the desks in front of them, away from my chest. Finally.

I walked quietly towards the window and looked through it, at the skyline outside. Somewhere out there were the Alps. During the weekend I would go there, climb a bit, relax from this madness I had gotten myself into. It all was like a nightmare. I already doubted if this was better than the prison.

Suddenly I heard whispering from behind me:

“… the big lover, eh? Just boasting! Dare to try?…”

I tried to pretend to haven’t heard anything, and stepped back from the window…

… and a hand touched my ass!

My reaction was so fast that I didn’t even have the time to make a fist. The hit was more like a slap, but with all of my strength and weight behind it. The head of Filippo recoiled and he fell backwards.

Fucking fag! I’ll mash you into a pulp, bastard!

I tried to jump over him, but the damned heels slipped and I barely kept my balance. Wide-eyed, Filippo crawled backwards with unbelievable speed, me running after him…

… and at the door bumped into the legs of The Boss. Looked up, straight into his eyes, and froze.

The silence was complete. I also looked at the face of The Boss, and instantly felt like a marmot before a viper. Even not looking at me, he was really scary. I was used to snowstorms and dangerous trails, but this man’s eyes chilled me to the bone.

“Mastroianni, gather your belongings and wait in front of my office.” His voice had the cold finality of a graveyard bell. “Ms. Manzoni, could you please come with me?”

I followed him into his office, barely keeping myself from stumbling. He offered me a chair next to the table and sat on another.

“Ms. Manzoni, I want to assure you that such a thing has never happened before in this company, and will never happen again. The employment of Mastroianni will be terminated right now, and you will not see him here anymore. Should you wish to sue him for sexual harassment, I would gladly direct the lawyers who service our company to assist you with all of their resources, at company’s expense.”

“I… I never…”

“You can’t imagine how sorry I am for what happened, and the shame it brings not only to the company, but to me personally.” He looked at me apologetically through his glasses. “And… I have the feeling that you have been through some hard times lately. Would you allow me to offer you an accommodation payment? I am sure that your work will more than justify it.” He went to the cabinet and opened it. Inside, there was a safe. He opened that too, took some money out if it, counted them, put them into a letter envelope and handed it to me. “Would five thousand help you?”

“Five thousand?!… I…” That alone would pay my debts! Whatever happened next, even if they unmasked me, I would get a reprieve! “Thank you, Mr. Montafun! You can’t imagine how grateful I am!”

“For nothing. My company prides with being of help to its workers… And now please allow me to free it from a person that does not deserve to be a part of it.”

I hastily exited the office. Filippo Mastroianni was waiting next to the wall, his face pale and sunk. His hand held a semi-opaque plastic bag with some groceries in. I could distinguish a milk bottle with a pacifier and a school textbook for second grade.

He had two children. And now would be left without a job. Because of me.

And I knew very well what is to be jobless today. Hard enough even if you don’t have to provide for a family.

Did he deserved that for just taking a touch? No matter how disgusting that was?

I suddenly remembered Uncle Franco, giving me the first lesson about rock climbing. And what was maybe the longest speech I had ever heard from him:

“When someone hangs on you, you save his life. No matter what. Might be your worst enemy, trying to kill you as you drag him up – you do. Holding is about not what he is, but what you are. Die with him – you die once. Drop him, even to save yourself – you die every moment after, to the end. Real men hold.”

He had defended that with his life. Died, but held.

And this guy now hanged on me…

“Mastroianni, come here!” boomed the voice of The Boss behind me.

“Mr. Montafun!” I interrupted him. “Mr. Montafun, could we speak for a moment first?”

He gave me a long gaze.

“Mastroianni, you shall wait. Ms. Manzoni, please enter.” He waved me in. Closed the door behind my back and looked at me:

“May I be of service with something else?”

“Yes, Mr. Montafun. I… I want to ask you to not fire Mr. Mastroianni.”

“I am sorry, but this is impossible. He disgraced my company in a way that I will not tolerate.”

“Mr. Montafun… Sir… I think that he just made a mistake. One that he will never repeat again.”

“He will not, at least here. He goes out right now.”

“But, Mr. Montafun… I have the feeling that he is not this kind of man, that this is just some misunderstanding… That he is a valuable worker, and the company will lose a lot with him.”

“The company will lose far more if he is not fired. If the slightest hint about this reaches the European Commission, all our contracts will be immediately terminated, and we will never get any new ones. And the living of a dozen of people and their families depends on that. That is why I cannot allow it. In fact, I consider suing him myself, for disgracing my company.”

“But he has a family too, and their living also depends on his job!”

“It’s him who sent them down the drain by harassing you. The decision was his, nobody but himself is to blame for it.”

I held my breath for a moment.

“Mr. Montafun, please… No hint will ever reach anywhere… Nothing happened here today. I will deny anything about it. I swear!… Please, don’t fire him!”

The gaze of The Boss pinned me to the chair for a few seconds.

“If nothing happened here, then I might not have a reason to offer you that accommodation payment. Would you return it in exchange for not firing Mastroianni?”

For a moment, I felt all cold on the inside. Farewell, debt paying. Maybe welcome prison, if the debt collectors sued me before I could get a salary…

Then I handed him the envelope.

He looked at me and made a dismissive gesture:

“Keep it. Consider that question a part of the interview…” He suddenly smiled. “Seems that you really are a good choice, Ms. Manzoni. Statistically speaking, few girls are like you.”

Surely fewer than you expect, dear God of the Statistics…

“Now, you might like to have your measures for a work uniform taken, while I have a talk with Mr. Casanova. If he wants to keep his job, he will have to give some really serious warranties for a flawless behavior from now on.”

… While waiting for the elevator to come, suddenly the memory came to me.

Mastroianni actually hadn’t pawed my ass. I had bumped into his hand while stepping back. And he was going to be fired for that, and for me hitting him after that… Wonder what the goth girl from the mall would say about this. Some male privilege, eh?

So, that was it. One of the other men, probably the spoiled brat, had goaded him into showing that he is a man by pawing me. The guy is obviously naive, still didn’t want to be rude and tried to only pretend doing it – but didn’t expect me to step back.

Turned out, I hadn’t been a hero – only restored the justice. Partially… Still, it was better than nothing. Hadn’t kept Filippo Mastroianni away from any damage, but still didn’t drop him. Didn’t pushed him off the cliff, actually. Still owed him a lot…

I had to be careful with men while in this disguise. In both ways.