“That woman must be a Hell of a client,” Aisha said wryly.
“She’s a Hell of a pain in the ass, I’ll tell you that much,” Anthony said, as he poured two glasses of wine.
Lunch wore on, for an hour, and then another, and Aisha and her boss slowly got drunk. When they left the restaurant, there was a cab waiting for them. Anthony had called and asked for one twenty minutes before they had left.
“I’ll come back after work for my car. Hopefully I’ll be sober by then.”
Aisha was drunk as well, and she felt light headed, and she stumbled a bit as she made her way to the cab, so that her boss had to catch her and steady her.
“I didn’t think you could get drunk at work,” she said after they were both in the backseat.
“Hey, we aren’t at work,” Anthony said, which made Aisha giggle. “And I’m the boss, so what I say goes.”
The cab driver pulled into the busy traffic, and Aisha closed her eyes for a moment, fighting to sober up before they got back to work. When she opened her soft brown eyes, she was surprised to see her boss was looking at her.
“What?” she asked.
“You have beautiful eyes,” he said, and Aisha felt warmth flood her cheeks.
“Thank you,” she said. “You’re drunk.”
“You’re beautiful,” her boss added, and this time, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she leaned towards the man and kissed him. She pressed her full, pouty lips to his, and their lips parted, and their tongues danced together. He tasted of the wine, and the mint he had after. She pulled away.
“I’m sorry. I’m drunk,” she said, and once again, they both laughed.
When Aisha and her boss returned to the office, they both managed to get through the long walk to the back of the floor, where her desk was, and his office sat, the door closed, without stumbling or looking drunk. People watched them pass of course, but they were trying to find any sign of sexual dalliances, not the fact that they had polished off two bottles of wine. But despite the kiss, there was no sign of romance. No clothes on backward, no lipstick marks on his collar and Aisha’s co-workers were disappointed, and went about their jobs.
An hour after returning, the phone on Aisha’s desk beeped, indicating a call from Mr. Conner. She lifted the receiver to her ear.
“Yes sir?” she asked.
“Can you work late tonight?” he asked.
“Sure,” she said.
“Good, come in here.”
Aisha stood and went into her boss’ office. He sat behind his desk, rubbing his temples with the pads of his fingers. “Wine at lunch was a bad idea.”
“What’s going on?”
“Tommy Wilson just got arrested for drunk driving,” Mr. Conner said. Tommy Wilson was a football running back, one of Anthony Conner’s more famous, and infamous clients. He was also a lot of trouble.
“Alright, let’s spin,” Aisha said, nodding. Mr. Conner smiled to her, and they got to work. It was a long day, trying to track Wilson down first, and then speaking with him on the phone, and then emailing his lawyer. A statement had to be drafted, and then Mr. Conner sent it to ESPN, and the NFL Network, and other appropriate outlets. The long day slowly turned into a long night.
Finally, with an empty and dark office space beyond Mr. Conner’s door, and a black sky that was starless due to the light pollution from New York City, Aisha’s boss let her off the hook.
“Go get some sleep,” he said. Come in an hour late tomorrow.”
Aisha looked at the handsome man. “What about you?” she asked.
“I’ll be fine,” he said, waving her off. “I’m going to wrap a few things up.”
Aisha was sitting at his desk, but across from Anthony. They had been like that for hours. Now she stood, and something was taking a hold of her. The day had turned out to be stressful, but she was working so closely with the man who was considered one of the best, at exactly what she yearned to do, and it had injected her with adrenalin. The work was writing, and talking, and sending emails, but somehow it had been exciting. And Anthony Conner had known Aisha was up for it. He told her to do something, and she did it. He didn’t check up on her; he trusted her.
Her attraction for the man, and admiration for him had grown in the hours since she had sat across from him and gotten to work. Now she stood and moved around the desk. She sat there, perching her round ass on the edge of his desk, crossing one dark skinned leg over the other. He looked at her legs. “I’m not drunk now,” she said, looking at him. He glanced up at her.
Aisha didn’t know why she was doing it, but she knew she wasn’t going to stop herself. He might stop her; he might know it wasn’t appropriate, but she almost always got what she wanted, especially when it came to men. Anthony Conner didn’t disappoint.