Male Call
At the sound of an old-fashioned wolf whistle, Marnie LaTour looked up from her laptop, which was currently sitting on the serving counter of the Deli Dally next to her cold meatball sub. Her three coworkers from Carnahan Custom Software—all male—had swiveled on their stools to stare out the window.
"Whoa, would you look at that?" murmured one. Marnie looked. A long-legged blonde walked by in a flippy skirt that fluttered alarmingly in the San Francisco wind. Glued to her side was one of the men from Technical Support.
"All right, Gregie boy!" Two of the guys highfived each other.
Marnie watched long enough to see that Greg was taking the blonde to Tarantella, the new Italian restaurant down the street, then returned to the screen full of code she was trying to debug. If she had written the code in the first place, there wouldn't have been anything to debug.
"You think she's wearing a thong?" This comment came from Barry Emmons, who was sitting next to Marnie since it was his program she was trying to fix.
She assumed he meant that as a rhetorical question and didn't answer.
The three men slid off th ... read full excerpt from: Male Call ebook
