He had been waiting in his office for some time now. Getting up occasionally to pace to the window, only to return to his desk, flick his pen around his fingers and stare at the phone. Thoughts of her had been infecting his mind ever since she started work there a few weeks ago.
At least in his office he was consumed by thoughts of her in private. Meetings were worse. He was all too aware of her presence and had to make a concerted effort not to stare at her. Yet his eyes betrayed him as his mind would inevitably drift to thoughts of her and before he knew it he'd be gazing at her, watching her subtle movements, catching her furtive, cautious glances. He felt nasty and cheap, like a beast stalking a pray. His dangerous thoughts were interrupted by staff seeking his opinion on some insignificant project: insignificant compared to the project he had in mind for her.
She was half his age, and he knew better. But knowing it was wrong did not solve the problem. There was something about her, something deeply sexual, yet precociously innocent. Her movements were naturally sexual; her pen would linger in the corner of her mouth or she'd cross her legs just a little too slowly. He wondered if these moves were rehearsed and indicative of why she had progressed so high so quickly. He had even asked to see her résumé on some flimsy pretext, but found her eminently qualified. He imagined her as the bright student, the good girl, but underneath she had desires and needs that she didn't have the knowledge of how to let out; desires which visited her in the night. Sitting at his desk he realized how entranced he had become, how far the story had run in his head. It had progressed to the point that he was now staring at his phone, trying to decide if he could, or should call her.
He picked up the phone, transfixed for a moment until desire trumped his nerves. The speed dial sounded. He waited, one, two rings...
"Hi Mike, what can I do for you?"
Mike suddenly realized he didn't have a plan. He hadn't thought of something to ask because he had been so caught up in the fantasy. The mundane reality of actually making the call had been lost on him. He may have had the desire, but it had been many years since he last tried to seduce a woman, let alone someone like Gretel. He cursed himself for being so stupid.
"Oh, ah... yes, there was something from this mornings meeting," he stalled for time, "I wasn't really paying attention, and was wondering if you could clarify a few things for me Gretel."
"Sure, I'll be right up. But I don't think there was anything that important said."
"Oh yes, I'm sure, but I just wanted your perspective."
There was a pause as Gretel realised the reason he called had changed. Mike could sense the tension, almost feeling the electricity shoot down the line. He dismissed it, not allowing it to enter into his conspiracy of desire. He tried to regain his usual composure,
"It's important I know what my staff are doing," Mike said.
"Well, I've just finished something so I'll come across to your office," with that Gretel hung up.
Gretel sat confused at her desk, wondering why Mike chose now to acknowledge her. She had met most people in the office, but Mike seemed to be deliberately avoiding her. In fact, she had thought he was somehow offended by her. It seemed no one really talked about him, and either respected or feared him enough not to make jokes about him. He was mysterious, although perhaps as so often was the case with the men she knew, the mystery wasn't nearly as interesting as she imagined.
She saved the document on her computer and looked around nervously. She caught Richie staring at her but he quickly turned away. She had caught most of the men in the office staring at her, in the way middleclass white men with meaningless jobs tend to do. It seemed as if the open plan office had been designed specifically for perve opportunities. The white collar male could pretend he was out hunting instead of calculating loss margins. She didn't take such attention it personally and had grown accustomed to it. At times she even learnt how to use it to her advantage. She learnt how to wear her skirt slightly higher than was normal, return the gaze with a knowing smile. She never thought of it as any more than that, just something which made getting on in her industry a little easier. Yet she feared this behavior may be a problem for Mike. Mike with the ring on his finger and his conservative tone.
She knew enough that he was a man who could make her job disappear. She got up from her desk and snuck into the bathroom on the way to his office, pulled her skirt down as far as it would go and poked a few wayward strands of hair back into her pony tale.
Mike tapped his pen on his desk wondering exactly what he was doing. He could feel his heart beating hard in his chest, and he licked his lips nervously. He tapped his pen anxiously, almost picked up the phone to tell her not to come when she appeared.
"Hi Mike, you wanted to see me?"
She stood nervously in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the harsh office lights behind her. Mike looked at her, then looked away, trying not to look at her body, trying to force out the dark thoughts which had only just momentarily been about that very body. Gretel's hands smoothed down her skirt like a schoolgirl in front of the principal. It was a gesture that seemed to be instinctively protecting her from his improper thoughts.
"Come in, come in, sit." He started to get up from his desk to welcome her, but as he rose he felt a hardness in his trousers which betrayed him. He quickly sat back down, hoping she didn't notice. Gretel moved to his desk, her own movements mirroring his awkwardness. She hadn't been this close to him before, and for a split second she saw how attractive he was. A silver fox, in a suit that matched his stature, confident and strong. He reminded her of a man she used to baby sit for. A man who would drive her home late at night, listening to music she didn't understand and tell her about things she'd never thought of. He was a man she wanted to teach her, to show her the world. Many times after he dropped her off, she'd lie in bed, slowly touching herself praying that one night he would lean over and kiss her goodnight, his hands and slipping under the sheer slip dress she'd always wear for him. She longed for him to unleash the powerful feelings which pulsed through her. Nothing ever happened, but there was something in Mike's eyes which at that moment filled her with that memory. She shuffled in her chair, forcing her thoughts back to the gravity of the present moment.
"I really just wanted to welcome you. I know you are new, and I've heard some good things already. It's important to me that my staff feel part of the team."
She was instantly relieved and relaxed into her chair, letting out a quick breath,
"Oh thank you, I was worried that you were going to fire me!" She regretted being so informal, for saying something so stupid, just as she had cursed her adolescent replies as a young girl in that car. 'I'm smarter than this' she said in her head.
"Oh I'm so sorry, I should have made myself more clear. I was sitting here, thinking about you and thought I should officially welcome you." Mike replied smiling at her outburst, feeling slightly more in control, remembering just how much power he actually had.
"Thinking of me?" Gretel replied, genuinely surprised.
Mike stared at her, their eyes met for a flash before breaking away.
"Yes, thinking of you," Mike said.
"It's just that I don't imagine you think of me often, I mean I'm new here." She could feel his eyes on her, still not sure what he was implying. This felt dangerous, as though her flirtatious responses were leading her down a dark alley. She bit her lip, half flirtatiously, half worryingly at the developing tension.
"You'd be surprised just how often you pop into my head." Again he looked directly at her, this time not breaking eye contact until she blushed and looked away. He swallowed slowly, filling with confidence as Gretel once again brushed down her skirt, her hands shifting nervously. He let his eyes slowly drift down her body, over the nape of her neck, down to the first button of her white blouse, the button pulled slightly by her shapely breasts, the outline of her bra occasionally visible through the tort fabric. Down further still he looked over her pencil skirt, her hands folded protectively over her lap, as though he could see right through it. Finally, able to look at her the way he had been craving he regained control, or rather his desire gained control of him. He knew what to do with a clarity that lifted the clouds from his mind. He saw her for who she was, the naughty girl who foolishly played the start of a game without thinking where it would lead. A girl who needed to be taught the rules of the endgame; shown the cost on her body.
She watched him looking, alarmed how powerful his gaze had become, how much it terrified and excited her, liberating her from the performance of her "office girl" identity. She felt laid bare by those assessing eyes.
Mike was on the pathway to destruction and he knew nothing was going to stop him, the only option was to grab Gretel and take her down with him. He slowly stood up, not breaking his gaze on her. He placed his hand in his trouser pockets and pushed his jacket to the side. His belt buckle shone, a beacon marking danger. Gretel could instantly see his hard shape pressed into his pants, running across almost parallel to his belt. He was showing her. Her heart raced as he stood raining forceful desire all over her body. She could feel the pricks of energy perforating her, slicing through her clothes, raising trails of goose bumps in its wake. She felt violated. Mike spoke slowly,
"Now show me. Put your feet on the desk."
Gretel looked over her shoulder for a second, worried someone might see from the main office. She caught movement in the corner of her eye, but before she could focus on it he forced her attention.
