“I want to say thanks for sticking up for me. I was bluffing. I wasn’t sure I’d ever said thirty was our final offer but I’m always looking for an excuse to hassle the Fraulein. I’m James Turner,” he said and took a step closer to me. I hugged the stack of files tighter against my breasts.
“You’re welcome, Mr. Turner. Nice to meet you officially. I need to get back to work,” I stammered and tried to step around James. However, he blocked my path.
“Whoa, little girl. It’s James and what’s the hurry? If you’re going to be working for me, we should get to know each other. How about dinner or maybe something more intimate?” he asked. My eyes had drifted from his, with great effort on my part, but my gaze returned to James after his torrid implication.
“Excuse me?” I asked not believing what I just heard. Part of me was appalled at his lurid suggestion but that part was overwhelmed in short order as I imagined what he might mean by intimate. James laughed softly at my nervousness and I told him again hoping to avoid my own scandalous thoughts, “I need to get back to work.”
“Or Fraulein Victoria will fire you? I wouldn’t worry about that. Even though she acts as if we need her, it’s the other way around. If it wasn’t for Samuel, God rest his soul, Battery and a lot of other acts would be ghost. So, we on for dinner or should we just skip to the dessert?” he said.
“No, sorry,” I said as I scurried around James leaving him in the conference room. I fought the urge to indulge my baser thoughts knowing exactly what he was insinuating. I didn’t like guys like James Turner I tried to tell myself. I liked nice men that didn’t come on too strong like James was. As I walked briskly away, I heard James chuckle softly and under his breath, he said, “Nice ass, little girl.” I blushed shamelessly and walked towards my cubicle even quicker.
~2~
I ducked into my cubicle after leaving James Turner in the conference room. After setting the Battery files on a shelf, I sat down and wished I had a door to close. My hands were shaking and my stomach was doing somersaults, not to mention the tingling in my panties. What the heck just happened? I’ve never been affected like that, especially by a man like James Turner. I took a sip of my coffee hardly noticing it was only lukewarm. I just needed the comfort of my ritual to settle my nerves. Hall and Oates played some song older than I was on my radio but the tune was catchy and it helped to calm me down.
As my mind cleared, I began to consider the meeting and the affect James had on me in there. He was handsome, no doubt, tall and muscular with an edginess that whispered of danger. Honestly, men like him scared me. I avoided them and always had. I know it was ridiculous, but my mom had me convinced that every guy on a Harley-Davidson or in a leather jacket was about to rape me. My parents raised me in a wholesome and rather protective environment and men like James had no place in my life. Sometimes I wondered what it might be like to let loose and go wild, but I didn’t think I had it in me.
So why did I find James so attractive? Why was I dreaming about him doing things to me I shouldn’t be dreaming about? I had no idea so I forced myself to work so I wouldn’t think about it any longer. I didn’t take a lunch and I worked late, leaving my cubicle only to use the restroom and refresh my coffee, taking the long way around to avoid going near Victoria’s office. I still remembered correcting her and her obvious displeasure with that. I was surprised I hadn’t been hauled into her office and scolded, or even fired, yet. Peter checked on me once but I could tell he had other things on his mind so we didn’t discuss the meeting in any detail.
Finally, at almost seven that evening I headed home to my apartment. As I sat in traffic in my little red Fiesta, away from the distraction of my work, my mind wandered again. Suddenly, I was nude and James was ravaging me in my mind. His head disappeared between my thighs and his scruffy beard tickled me as his tongue zeroed in on my hot nub. I wrapped my legs around his broad shoulders and as I pulled him in closer, I heard the blare of a car horn. The fantasy burst into nothingness as I saw at the green light and the empty road ahead of me. I checked my rear view mirror and found the driver behind me waving at me with his middle finger.
My tires squealed as I mashed on the accelerator and took off, my face flushed and red. Only then did I realize I was absently stroking my inner thigh just under the hem of my skirt. I pulled my hand away and blushed even deeper, looking around as if another driver might suspect what I was doing. I turned on the radio and found an AM talk station to occupy my mind. Politics, yes. That would surely kill any thoughts of a naughty nature.