His mouse clicked frantically across the screen, as he blurted several incoherent words and passable smiles.
“Alison is off in a meeting…” she continued “…I’m in need of someone to help me file away these orders in the safe, she said you would help me.”
A sharp lick of perfume hit his nostrils. He couldn’t help but notice that she wore her perfumes as if a cocktail, mixing recipes of Chanel and Yves St Laurent at her pleasure. His brain filled with the scent, and began to run wild with thoughts of her fingers on his skin.
“Yeah…sure.”, his eagerness overpowering any attempt at nonchalance.
And so there they were, a fine afternoon of April, alone in the six by four metre safe. Not an inch of day would penetrate into the depths of that filing hell, and here he was, only 6 inches away from Temptation herself. She, taking the elephant foot-stall to reach letters D-F and he, poised, squatted like a 12th century fisherman over a mesh of paper.
“That photo of me you were gawking over was taken four years ago, that HR bitch pointed her smartphone at me and condemned me to a future of a red puffy complexion.”
Max felt heat rise from his belly and took upon his very own red puffy complexion. He had been caught out, shame once again tickling his loins. Yet he couldn’t help marvel over the idea of ‘HR Bitch’ being locked in the cupboard for smartphone portrait negligence.
“And why were you looking at my photo?, I see you drooling at me all the time” Her voice was like a whip. Max melted, and resisted the urge to shuffle backwards out of the safe, out of this situation, and into some dark hole where he could touch himself.
“I…I…” he stammered, unable to catch breath.
“I get it, fapping away at any old under 40 you can lay eyes on. I know your type, you think you have a chance with me?”
Words were so far out of Max’s reach that he thought he may never utter another syllable again.
“Do you think you have a chance with me? Huh? How much do you want me?”
There was no stopping it, he was powerless against what was becoming a rhythmic, scorching monologue
“How much would you pay to fuck me, right here, right now? Go on, give me a price”
Thoughts came rushing through his head, he would give his salary for a slice of her. Her sleek tights leading up her long legs, past the line of her mid-length skirt, up to where he knew few men could return from.
“…I forget, you are admin, admin salary and all that”
She turned back to reach letters G-I, as if she was all too acquainted with tormenting male coworkers alongside infinite filing tasks. The words bypassed Max’s internal filter and slipped through his lips, throwing caution at his mistress.
“I’d fuck you”
Nausea surged his throat. What had he done? How many office regulations had he compromised? How quickly this could escalate to harassment, in four words, albeit one partially contracted, he had given over control of the situation.
She turned back with an impressed smile on her face, this seemed to please her.