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Authors: Ashley Hunter
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oglers - was that haunting quality of his cold blue eyes. Even while I sat hating his guts, I couldn’t get those eyes out of my mind.
I both dreaded and looked forward to our interactions in the morning because they were the only interactions we had. He always appeared calm and collected as he made his disappointment clear, much different than my second boss who’d yell and scream like a spoiled child.
I wanted to hate Mr. Mathan with every fiber of my being, but a small part of me (a tiny, minute part) thought he was unbelievably sexy. I think that miniscule part might be a masochist.
On the Thursday before the third Friday of the month (my first third Friday, if that made any sense), I made his tea as usual. The day before, he’d mentioned he’d like to try it with honey instead of sugar, so I attempted to melt the honey with the hot water while the tea steeped.
I figured I’d give it a shot. Once done with the tea, I returned to my desk to see the boss himself waiting for me.
I immediately thought he’d telepathically figured out my new tea attempt and already was going to tell me what was wrong or to simply remake it.
“Good morning, Mr. Mathan,” I greeted.
“Good morning, Ms. Tanner,” he replied. “I assume that’s my tea?”
“It is. I added honey instead of sugar.”
The lack of caring on his face made me feel foolish for even mentioning it. “Oh, wonderful.”
Dark circles etched under his eyes, and he had a slight five o’clock shadow. His voice, though still chillingly calm, sounded weary and slow - he normally had a certain cadence to it that seemed to be taking a nap. His tie hung slightly crooked, and his suit slightly wrinkled.
He looked far less put-together than normal, which caused a new sense of unease. However, the masochist within me thought this change of pace was even sexier than the perfectly put together version of Mr. Mathan.
“Is there something I can help you with right now?” I asked, not sure of what else to say since he’d never been waiting at my desk before.
“No, I was just waiting here for the bus to take me into my office.”
“Does Vance drive it? He doesn’t come by in the morning anymore.”
Those blue eyes opened and closed, only watching with no kind of emotional response. “I have a large project for you if you can follow me into my office.”
Note to self: jokes not appreciated. I followed him without another word. His gait seemed slower as usual, though I normally didn’t see him walk anywhere since he was just behind his desk. He handed me a tape recorder and a stack of papers.
“I have dictated my plans for an environmental project to help conserve the habitat of bears in logging areas,” he said. “Please transcribe my dictation, and refer to the facts in this paperwork. I expect this to take you at least today and tomorrow. You are welcome to do over-time through the weekend from home if necessary.”
I nodded in response. He gave a slight frown, but continued.
“When you finish, I need you to bring it by my house. I will be out tomorrow, but I’ll email you my address. I expect this done before work Monday at the very latest. Understand?”
“I understand.”
He reached for his tea and took a drink. “Remake this. It was better without the honey.”
Well, so much for that. “Right away, Mr. Mathan.”
“My name is Oliver,” he said, rubbing his weary eyes and appearing like an actual human being for once. “Please stop calling me Mr. Mathan.”
I nodded, not sure if this was some kind of milestone for us.
“You can also answer me when I speak to you.”
“Women are supposed to be seen, not heard, as they say,” I replied with a slight smile. He only gave me a look wearily. “That’s a joke.”
“If you’d like to be a woman who’s seen and not heard, you can find a new job.”
“Right. It’s really just a…” remember that note to self you just made? “I’ll get right to this project.”
I dropped off
I both dreaded and looked forward to our interactions in the morning because they were the only interactions we had. He always appeared calm and collected as he made his disappointment clear, much different than my second boss who’d yell and scream like a spoiled child.
I wanted to hate Mr. Mathan with every fiber of my being, but a small part of me (a tiny, minute part) thought he was unbelievably sexy. I think that miniscule part might be a masochist.
On the Thursday before the third Friday of the month (my first third Friday, if that made any sense), I made his tea as usual. The day before, he’d mentioned he’d like to try it with honey instead of sugar, so I attempted to melt the honey with the hot water while the tea steeped.
I figured I’d give it a shot. Once done with the tea, I returned to my desk to see the boss himself waiting for me.
I immediately thought he’d telepathically figured out my new tea attempt and already was going to tell me what was wrong or to simply remake it.
“Good morning, Mr. Mathan,” I greeted.
“Good morning, Ms. Tanner,” he replied. “I assume that’s my tea?”
“It is. I added honey instead of sugar.”
The lack of caring on his face made me feel foolish for even mentioning it. “Oh, wonderful.”
Dark circles etched under his eyes, and he had a slight five o’clock shadow. His voice, though still chillingly calm, sounded weary and slow - he normally had a certain cadence to it that seemed to be taking a nap. His tie hung slightly crooked, and his suit slightly wrinkled.
He looked far less put-together than normal, which caused a new sense of unease. However, the masochist within me thought this change of pace was even sexier than the perfectly put together version of Mr. Mathan.
“Is there something I can help you with right now?” I asked, not sure of what else to say since he’d never been waiting at my desk before.
“No, I was just waiting here for the bus to take me into my office.”
“Does Vance drive it? He doesn’t come by in the morning anymore.”
Those blue eyes opened and closed, only watching with no kind of emotional response. “I have a large project for you if you can follow me into my office.”
Note to self: jokes not appreciated. I followed him without another word. His gait seemed slower as usual, though I normally didn’t see him walk anywhere since he was just behind his desk. He handed me a tape recorder and a stack of papers.
“I have dictated my plans for an environmental project to help conserve the habitat of bears in logging areas,” he said. “Please transcribe my dictation, and refer to the facts in this paperwork. I expect this to take you at least today and tomorrow. You are welcome to do over-time through the weekend from home if necessary.”
I nodded in response. He gave a slight frown, but continued.
“When you finish, I need you to bring it by my house. I will be out tomorrow, but I’ll email you my address. I expect this done before work Monday at the very latest. Understand?”
“I understand.”
He reached for his tea and took a drink. “Remake this. It was better without the honey.”
Well, so much for that. “Right away, Mr. Mathan.”
“My name is Oliver,” he said, rubbing his weary eyes and appearing like an actual human being for once. “Please stop calling me Mr. Mathan.”
I nodded, not sure if this was some kind of milestone for us.
“You can also answer me when I speak to you.”
“Women are supposed to be seen, not heard, as they say,” I replied with a slight smile. He only gave me a look wearily. “That’s a joke.”
“If you’d like to be a woman who’s seen and not heard, you can find a new job.”
“Right. It’s really just a…” remember that note to self you just made? “I’ll get right to this project.”
I dropped off
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