It was getting late and I still had one more meeting. I tapped my pen on the desk, impatient to be finished for once, already dreaming of the steaming hot bath and accompanying glass of cold Chardonnay that I had promised myself to make up for this long day.
I glanced at the clock – still 5 minutes before the appointment, I had time for a coffee and a walk to stretch my muscles a little. I stretched my arms above my head, linking my fingers and leaning back in my chair, forcing life into my tiring limbs. I pushed myself to my feet and went in search of a caffeine kick.
The offices were all empty as I wandered the length of the building, sipping my over brewed coffee and feeling the tension ebb from me a little. It was stressful, having so much responsibility at such a young age, but it was good stress I felt, leading me to push myself harder, to take on the extra work, and to never miss a deadline, or fail to cover all the bases.
I was determined to get on in my career through my talents and attention to detail, and be noticed for all the right reasons. Not because I wiggled around the office in my little tight skirts, batting my eyelashes and pouting my impossibly pink lips whenever the world threatened to not go my way.
My lip curled a little as I thought of Suzy, pretty little Suzy, not a thought in her head, nor a care in the world it seemed, blatantly flaunting herself and giggling, confident that her full and glossy lower lip with its hint of a tremble would be enough to deflect any complaints that her inadequate work might cause. If the old fools that doted on her could only hear her laughing and bitching about their gullibility in the ladies bathroom during her frequent breaks. Men! Just let her try her flattery on a female boss and see where it got her. I smirked a little, imagining myself in that role. I was getting there, and more quickly than was usual, mainly thanks to my determination and hard work, putting in the hours to gain the experience lacking due to my relative youth.
A sudden draught lifted my hair, and I smoothed it with my free hand, tucking the stray strands behind my ears. I had left my jacket over the back of my chair when I went for my coffee, and I missed its warmth now, as the heating had obviously gone off for the evening and a chill was settling on the building. I quickened my pace, realising that I had already been gone for my allotted 5 minutes, and the contact I was expecting would be waiting, probably wondering just what kind of a slack operation we were running here. As a result, I was nearly running when I reached my office and as I entered and noted the expensive suit and a sleek head of dark hair, I started to apologise for the delay, mindful that I was the interviewer here, so it wouldn't do to babble, a brief word of polite contrition would suffice.
These thoughts ended abruptly as he rose and turned to take my proffered hand, leaving me staring into a face I had only recently succeeded in erasing from my dreams...
As if in slow motion, my coffee in its vending plastic cup fell to the floor, and I remained frozen, his hand grasping mine. It took all my strength to shake his hand, instead of pulling back, and a greater effort to force my voice to stay low and even, as I answered the platitudes you use on these occasions. "How are you, you're looking well, gosh you are the last person I expected to see here," all those trite phrases, you know the ones I am sure.
He was as I'd always remembered him, totally in control of himself, smiling slightly; eyes holding mine as he spoke, although I barely registered the words.
I was paralysed and lost in memories under his gaze, 18 again, full of the enthusiastic arrogance and bravado of youth. Just learning about the incredible pleasures to be found if you were prepared to learn, and accept that you didn't know everything, in spite of your private education and boundless belief in your own charms. This man had unleashed feelings and desires in me that had taken me the last 3 years to bury and within the space of 30 seconds of being in his presence I was an eager child again, waiting for the teacher's commands and craving only his approval. If I didn't break away soon, I would be begging for him to touch me and I would be under his spell all over again.
And then his eyes released mine and I pulled away, blushing, already reaching for tissues to mop up the coffee spillage and give me something to do instead of dumbly staring at him. I crouched there, dabbing at the stain in the carpet, saying anything I could think of, filling the silence that might otherwise have led to recriminations and questions, or, worse, tears and pleadings. After all, he had left me with barely an explanation. Oh sure he said it was for my benefit, that I needed to experience life, other relationships, to find out what it was that I truly wanted. Of course what he really meant was that I was too clingy, too young, maybe not passionate enough, or just generally not girlfriend material. Whatever the reason, he didn't want me, not the way I wanted him, and that hurt.
When I could find no more liquid, and my words had dried up, I risked a glance up at him. My heart leapt when I saw him standing over me, a look that I recognised in his eyes. His hand reached for me, and I took it and let him pull me to my feet. When I went to move, he held onto my hand, but I snatched it away, snapping
"Never touch me again! That right is no longer yours."
And I dropped the tissues into the bin and hurried behind my desk, grimacing at my melodramatic turn of phrase. I grabbed my jacket and thrust my arms into its sleeves, not daring to look at him. As I struggled, I felt his hand on my collar, helping me on with it. I pulled away again, nerves raising my voice to an unpleasantly shrill pitch.
"I said don't touch me!"
"Don't be so childish" he replied mildly, straightening my lapels, and then brushing one of those errant strands of hair back from my flushed face.
Crack!
A red mark appeared on his cheek, and my hand stung. I stared at the mark in horrified fascination as it glowed and took on the shape of fingers and a palm. The shock on his face did something strange to me, and I felt a release of tension, and I giggled. I clapped my hand to my mouth, as if to hold it shut, but another explosive laugh burst through, and then I was leaning against the wall, tears rolling down my cheeks, howling hysterically, unable to stop laughing, but feeling the humour rapidly draining from the situation. It went completely when I looked over at him, and I saw him throw his jacket over the chair, and advance on me looking murderous. The imprint of my hand, still plain to see, no longer seemed funny.
I held my hands out in front of me as if to ward him off.
"I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that..." I stammered, as I backed myself into a corner – literally. I felt the filing cabinets at my back and realised I had nowhere left to go. And still he came on.
I held my breath and pressed hard back against the cabinets, wishing he would say something rather than just keep coming towards me with that chilling look on his face. I swallowed and tensed as he stopped in front of me, and felt my legs threatening to buckle.
He just stood there, looking me slowly up and down, but giving no indication whether what he saw pleased him or not.
"Turn around, slowly" he ordered.
"W-what? Why?"
He sighed. "Don't make me ask again. Turn around, a full circle, slowly"
He spoke slowly and calmly, as if instructing a simpleton.
