Fit Him In

“How is he today?” John laid each computer out on the secretary’s desk, opened the red one and tuned it to the local CCTV. “Never mind, I see for myself.”
“Understood…” the secretary replied. “Hank Fletch said he wanted to see you.”
“Hank Fletch?”“He’s a psychologist. When can you fit him in?”
“Fit him in! Haha.”
“What?”
In 2076, ‘fit him in’ meant to fuck a man. Of course, secretaries were not bred to understand these things. Secretaries were specialised in their field of work, and it was a beautiful thing, that. In fact, anyone who has ever seen a secretary working,
particularly a female secretary, understands better than most the true necessity for genetic specialisation in this world.
“Oh. It’s just that ‘fit him in’ rather means ‘to fuck a man’, nowadays.”
“Does it?”
“Well of course! Come on, woman.”
“I think I’d rather not.”
John tapped his foot busily; the room buzzed with a little anticipation. “So I think I’ll-”
“Does it really man that?”
“In certain circles,” he said elusively.
“Circles! Haha.”
“What?”
“Oh; it’s just that…yeah- circles, circles means ’to fuck a man’ nowadays. Yeah. Haha.”
“What?”
“Yeah, in the-”
“Listen, I think you misunderstand. Okay? I think you are misunderstanding the idea.” He said to her.
Bitterly she said, “Why is it good when you say it and it’s bad when I say it?”
“It’s not bad; I don’t th- I just think you’re-”
“Goddamnit.”
“Goddamn you. I’ll see you later.” Man, I would love to fuck her, he thought.