For the Love of Cake
I’m not a bad person, really I’m not. I just love cake.
My name is Ted Morgan, I’m 31 years old and I’ve been an Associate Account Representative at the National Accredited Insurance Company for six years. My job consists of paperwork, filing that paperwork, retrieving previously filed paperwork and so on. Don’t let the description fool you, it can be excruciatingly dull.
Really the only things I have to look forward to at work are the little parties that usually occur a few times a month. It would be somebody’s birthday (somebody people like of course) and cookies or cupcakes would magically appear in the break room. Or it will be someone’s last day (whether they’re really liked or not) and again some kind of treat will show up. It’s a rather big office and generally I wouldn’t really know any of the people involved; but that wouldn’t stop me from enjoying the food.
The best celebrations by far are the baby showers. Like I said, it’s a sizeable office that employs several people, most of which are women. I would get no bigger thrill than checking my e-mail and seeing that so and so’s baby shower was coming up.
Of course, that’s when the best food was served: cake. And this wasn’t just any gritty, flavorless sheet cake bought from a supermarket. This was real, professionally made cake.
Sometimes it would be something simple like yellow cake with vanilla icing. Then there might be a butter rum cake with lemon icing. Or sometimes a chocolate cake with chocolate icing and some kind of custard inside. They were all incredible.
I’d generally try to slip into the break room unnoticed towards the end of the party, snag an extra large piece, and head back to my office to enjoy. The rest of the day didn’t seem so intolerable after having some of that delicious cake.
For a while I could plan on these baby showers at least a couple times a month; it seemed as though someone was always getting pregnant. But then they started tapering off. Soon I was lucky if I was enjoying any of that delectable cake once a month. Sure, there were always birthdays and promotions good for some discount cookies or day-old donuts, but hardly any baby showers. I really started to miss that cake.
It got to the point where I would check my e-mail several times an hour to see if there were any upcoming showers. I started asking around to see if anyone was expecting. Whenever a woman came into my office my eyes wandered subconsciously to her stomach. I was going crazy without that cake.
Why didn’t I just go out and buy some cake for myself? I did. One evening after another cake-less day at work, I stopped at a nearby bakery and bought a small cake — chocolate with vanilla icing. It was good; don’t get me wrong, it was very good. But it wasn’t the same eating cake in my living room watching TV. And I knew it wouldn’t be the same if I brought it to work and not only because I actually had to pay for it. I’d have to shut the blinds of my office for fear someone would get a glimpse of it and I’d have to explain why I had cake and why wasn’t there enough for everyone?
As the cake days tampered off even more, I began to resign myself to the fact that they might be gone for good. A lot of the women who had been pregnant were gone on maternity leave or just weren’t coming back. I started noticing a lot of unfamiliar people around the office and sadly, more men. I stopped checking my e-mail so incessantly and resumed my daily boring routine.
And, if I hadn’t overheard a snippet of conversation as I walked past the break room one day, that’s where this story would have ended. I was on my way to the fax machine when I heard two women talking rather loudly about having children. I immediately stopped just outside the doorway and listened. I could tell that they were both young. One of them was saying how much she was looking forward to having kids. The other one agreed but said she might have to cut holes in her boyfriend’s condoms to have some. They both laughed and started talking about something else. I smiled and headed to the fax machine. I realized I had just found a way to get my cake back.
No, I wasn’t going to sneak into everyone’s house or apartment and cut tiny holes into their condoms. That would have taken way too much time and effort.
As I made my way back to my office, I looked around at the many cubicles. For the first time I noticed that most of them were filled with young women, woman just barely out of college probably. I was a good looking guy (someone once said I looked a little like Harry Connick Jr.) and charming when I wanted to be, and as I took in the somewhat low cut tops and short skirts, I decided that it probably wouldn’t be that hard to go out with a lot of these girls and, if all things went well, to impregnate them.
I know that sounds bad, but like I said, I’m not a bad guy. I just love cake.
I decided to put my plan into action immediately. I would start with an easy target. I knew that Jane, one of the secretaries, always had a little thing for me. I was always polite to her but never reciprocated her flirting. She was somewhat attractive but just not really my type. So when I asked her to join me for a drink after work she seemed very surprised but accepted almost immediately.
We went to a small bar she suggested and the way she kept looking at me, I knew it wasn’t going to be difficult. After about an hour she casually mentioned that she had always wanted to see my apartment. Twenty minutes later we were there and in bed. She asked me about protection and I told her I was clean (which was true) and that she didn’t need to worry about birth control because I couldn’t have kids (which was a lie). That story was further authenticated by my oddly shaped testicles. As the result of a soccer injury in college, one was much smaller than the other. The doctor told me my ability to have children wouldn’t be affected at all and after a check of my sperm count, I was told that I was more potent then ever.
About an hour later I dropped Jane off at her place. She wanted to stay over but I told her I had to get up really early (another lie). She was anxious to set up another date and I told her we could talk about it the next day at the office. What I didn’t tell her was that I had the next day off. After a somewhat awkward kiss, we said goodnight.
On the drive home I realized I had made a big mistake with Jane. If my plan had any chance of succeeding, I couldn’t get involved with girls who wanted a relationship. It had to be just a one-time thing or if need be, a two- or three-time thing.
Things were a little uncomfortable with Jane for the next couple of weeks but eventually she got the idea I wasn’t interested. By then I had my sights set on a girl named Sarah who had just started working in data entry. I caught her alone at the copy machine one day and we started talking.
It didn’t take too much convincing to get her to come to my place one night after work. I can be very persuasive. Like Jane, she asked about protection. I was only about halfway through my soccer injury story when she jumped on me. I fell asleep right afterwards and when I woke up about an hour later, she wasn’t beside me. I looked around the room and saw that her clothes were gone. I smiled and went back to sleep.
Perhaps Sarah said some nice things about me to some of the other girls in the office because I started getting winks and smiles when I walked by. Several times a day one of them would come into my office for seemingly no reason.
From then on, things began to proceed nicely.
I began keeping a log of my “encounters,” making sure they were about four to six weeks apart. I knew I had to time this all perfectly. I found out that Gail, the older woman who organized the showers, would always plan them for a few weeks before the maternity leave would begin. My biggest fear was that two or more women would get pregnant around the same time and there would only be one shower for them. That absolutely could not happen. I had come too far to not get my full share of cake.
The next girl was Charlene. She worked in marketing. That was about a month after Sarah. Then there was Nicole in IT.
My plan was working perfectly. Of course I had no idea whether or not these girls were getting pregnant but I did get some encouraging news one day. As I was chatting up Mary from accounts receivable, Jane rushed by and stormed into the ladies’ room. Patricia was right behind her and stopped to tell us that Jane had been throwing up all morning—it must be that stomach flu going around. I smiled inside. I hadn’t heard about any stomach flu going around.
After Mary there was Heather in customer service and then Diana, another one from data entry. I can’t say I wasn’t attracted to any of these girls but that was really beside the point; I was working towards a greater goal.
During sex I would often fantasize about what the cake would be at that particular girl’s shower. Raspberry with chocolate icing perhaps? Or maybe lemon with vanilla icing dribbled with maraschino cherries? It got to the point where I would get excited just by the thought of cake; driving by a bakery or even walking past the Entenmann’s display in the supermarket would get me aroused. I was amazed at how easily things were going and even more amazed at how unconcerned these girls were with unprotected casual sex. This was the 21st century after all. Another thing that surprised me was when I found out that most of these girls had boyfriends and one even had a fianc
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Portland Fiction Project
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