building."
The man
shrugs and let go of the door at the same time. As the door closes, I see him
loosen his tie and sweat.
Here we
go again, silent sheep with our wolf boss.
I
really wish to get to my office as fast as I can. I don't have time to watch
the women in the office drool when see him,like everyday. They are going to be
whispering about him and do the best they can so he'd notice them. giggling
about him. I know the bastard is drop dead gorgeous – and I
did secretly fantasize about him sometimes. But he is a selfish, arrogant, and
a pompous jerk who does nothing but dominate every one around him.
The
elevator stops, and a string of people walk out. I can ’ t
believe my ears when I hear a woman whisper to her friend about wanting to lick
Dyer ’ s
smooth skin on their way out. It ’ s
always like this; women whispering dirty thoughts two steps away from him,
wishing he would hear them. But even if he does, you can ’ t read
much into Mr Dyer because he rarely talks. The best he can do is bestow a
humiliating glance down upon you for not doing your job right, and you ’ d feel
like you want to disappear. I know I said this before. I guess it's all about
me being nervous again.
Silent.
Gorgeous. Asshole.
If I
haven't worked hard all of my life to earn my place in society, I ’ d turn
around and slap him on the face. Well, maybe kiss those lips and then slap him.
Paycheck is certainly a bitch.
Sometimes
in the office, Mr. Dyer asks me to do pick up a folder he has just dropped
intentionally on the floor, only to check me out. Sometimes he asks me to poor
him coffee while he is leaning back in his comfortable chair. Bending over, I
know is staring at my cleavage. Then when I am done, he asks me to pour in more
coffee for his own amusement. Although I don ’ t like
it, I learned to look away since I can ’ t lose
it and show my anger and lose what I worked so hard for.
Ten
more floors and I will get this billionaire bastard off my back, I tell myself.
And I ’ ll get
him out of my head.
But I
still feel his eyes on my back. His silence is killing me, and I am so mad at
myself for secretly liking it. Actually, if he manages to stay silent forever, I
would surrender to the daydreams I have about him. We could fuck in the meeting
room, on his desk, in the ladies room, in the gym on lunch break, and in the … ahem … the
elevator. I ’ d be in my satin sheets, and I ’ d let
him inside while calling him a pig, and the bastard wouldn ’ t be
able to say a word because I ’ ll make him lose his cool. I ’ ll make
him surrender to my charm, and maybe teach him that not all woman would lay
down and kiss his feet like they always do.
A girl
can still have dirty, irrational fantasies, right? Even if she had a rough
life and worked hard to fit in.
Another
string of crowd walks out. It ’ s only me and him now. As the
elevator chugs up, my nipples harden. It puzzles me that we have never been
alone in the elevator before. Where is Tina, the girl who works on the same
floor with us? And where Marco, the male secretary?
I
swallow hard, touching my necklace. I wish I had eyes in my back. Why doesn ’ t he
speak to me? All men, strangers, wouldn ’ t miss
an opportunity to start a meaningless conversation with me once we get alone.
Say
something. God. Damn. It.
Should
I turn around and face him? Why isn ’ t he
talking today, saying stupid things like ‘ You did
that wrong, Alice! ’ or ‘ I told
this a thousand times! ’ ?
What ’ s going
to happen? I have a strange feeling about today. I know that I am vulnerable to
his touch somehow. My traitor nipples hardens once we get alone for God ’ s sake.
“ I want
the files on the Rockford case ready in an hour, ” He
finally says.
Thank
God. I let out a sigh and don ’ t mind him noticing.
“ But it ’ s
impossible to get that done in an hour, ” I
comment, turning around and facing him. He hasn ’ t moved
an inch. “ It ’ s
The man
shrugs and let go of the door at the same time. As the door closes, I see him
loosen his tie and sweat.
Here we
go again, silent sheep with our wolf boss.
I
really wish to get to my office as fast as I can. I don't have time to watch
the women in the office drool when see him,like everyday. They are going to be
whispering about him and do the best they can so he'd notice them. giggling
about him. I know the bastard is drop dead gorgeous – and I
did secretly fantasize about him sometimes. But he is a selfish, arrogant, and
a pompous jerk who does nothing but dominate every one around him.
The
elevator stops, and a string of people walk out. I can ’ t
believe my ears when I hear a woman whisper to her friend about wanting to lick
Dyer ’ s
smooth skin on their way out. It ’ s
always like this; women whispering dirty thoughts two steps away from him,
wishing he would hear them. But even if he does, you can ’ t read
much into Mr Dyer because he rarely talks. The best he can do is bestow a
humiliating glance down upon you for not doing your job right, and you ’ d feel
like you want to disappear. I know I said this before. I guess it's all about
me being nervous again.
Silent.
Gorgeous. Asshole.
If I
haven't worked hard all of my life to earn my place in society, I ’ d turn
around and slap him on the face. Well, maybe kiss those lips and then slap him.
Paycheck is certainly a bitch.
Sometimes
in the office, Mr. Dyer asks me to do pick up a folder he has just dropped
intentionally on the floor, only to check me out. Sometimes he asks me to poor
him coffee while he is leaning back in his comfortable chair. Bending over, I
know is staring at my cleavage. Then when I am done, he asks me to pour in more
coffee for his own amusement. Although I don ’ t like
it, I learned to look away since I can ’ t lose
it and show my anger and lose what I worked so hard for.
Ten
more floors and I will get this billionaire bastard off my back, I tell myself.
And I ’ ll get
him out of my head.
But I
still feel his eyes on my back. His silence is killing me, and I am so mad at
myself for secretly liking it. Actually, if he manages to stay silent forever, I
would surrender to the daydreams I have about him. We could fuck in the meeting
room, on his desk, in the ladies room, in the gym on lunch break, and in the … ahem … the
elevator. I ’ d be in my satin sheets, and I ’ d let
him inside while calling him a pig, and the bastard wouldn ’ t be
able to say a word because I ’ ll make him lose his cool. I ’ ll make
him surrender to my charm, and maybe teach him that not all woman would lay
down and kiss his feet like they always do.
A girl
can still have dirty, irrational fantasies, right? Even if she had a rough
life and worked hard to fit in.
Another
string of crowd walks out. It ’ s only me and him now. As the
elevator chugs up, my nipples harden. It puzzles me that we have never been
alone in the elevator before. Where is Tina, the girl who works on the same
floor with us? And where Marco, the male secretary?
I
swallow hard, touching my necklace. I wish I had eyes in my back. Why doesn ’ t he
speak to me? All men, strangers, wouldn ’ t miss
an opportunity to start a meaningless conversation with me once we get alone.
Say
something. God. Damn. It.
Should
I turn around and face him? Why isn ’ t he
talking today, saying stupid things like ‘ You did
that wrong, Alice! ’ or ‘ I told
this a thousand times! ’ ?
What ’ s going
to happen? I have a strange feeling about today. I know that I am vulnerable to
his touch somehow. My traitor nipples hardens once we get alone for God ’ s sake.
“ I want
the files on the Rockford case ready in an hour, ” He
finally says.
Thank
God. I let out a sigh and don ’ t mind him noticing.
“ But it ’ s
impossible to get that done in an hour, ” I
comment, turning around and facing him. He hasn ’ t moved
an inch. “ It ’ s
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