Nine days later I was back in the Outfit's DC office, where I spend one week a month. My relationship with the Outfit is that of a contractor of more or less permanent status. I share the office with three others and each of us has their own week of the month to work there and be available to senior staff. The small consulting firm I run in the South allows me to keep a certain level of autonomy while charging the Outfit a premium rate for my time and effort. However the fact my agreement must be renewed every six months is a constant reminder I am not staff, and work only at the continued pleasure of my department head.
I turned my computer on to find a secure email from Personnel advising me of Jennifer's appointment and suggesting I make arrangements to visit with my new supervisor. There was also a much less formal email from her asking me to report to her office at 3pm. I busied myself tidying up some loose ends, skipped lunch, and at the appointed hour found my way to her third floor office and knocked on the door.
"Come in," she said.
I walked in the door as she rose to greet me from behind the large desk centering the rear third of the room. Her smile was dazzling and she leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek while shaking my hand. "Hello Craig, its great to see you again. You look absolutely wonderful, lets sit on the sofa shall we?"
The black leather sofa was long and soft, a holdover from the previous occupant. I slid down into the corner while she drew a file from her desk. When she sat on the sofa not three feet from me I could make out the subtle scent of Chanel Number 5, and subconsciously began to let my guard down.
We chatted for twenty minutes about a wide range of topics and I said more than I wanted to but I couldn't help it. She was wearing a navy blazer with a classic over the knee khaki skirt that rode up ever so slightly when she crossed her legs. Legs that were much trimmer and shapely than I remembered from before. Her hair was cut shorter now in the fashion favoured by the DC career woman during the hot summer months. It was lighter and I guessed she highlighted it, as at 35 or so she might be seeing the first signs of grey.
Damn! We were talking business and experience told me she would cut to the chase at any moment. Instead of focusing I was trying to imagine if that wonderful ass had toned up like her legs. I managed to shake that thought only to glance down at her chest when she turned her head briefly -- to get a look at those magnificent breasts. But the damned blazer was buttoned and the filled white cotton blouse only hinted at what I knew to be below.
