Summer wasn't ready for this. She'd only been working at the firm for a week, and she'd already been called into her boss's office.
Was she presentable? As she walked by a glossy glass partition, she took a moment to take herself in.
Her hair, usually hanging long behind her back, was tied neatly into a ponytail. Though she preferred how it framed her face whilst loose, it was too impractical when bending over, always ending up in her face.
Speaking of bending over, skirts were no longer on the menu. Though she always wore them long, they were tight. Pencil skirts and a big butt left her feeling like a whore everywhere she went.
In a way, the idea excited her. Being ogled by the pretty receptionist, or her hunky co-worker at the water cooler...she'd been single a while, and the idea of being seen as attractive was appealing.
But unprofessional.
So, skirts went. Instead, trousersuits. This particular number had what might be described as a plunging neckline, but Summer preferred 'generous.'
Batting her eyelashes at herself, and pursing her red lips into her best Customer Service Smile, she headed to the office door, heels clicking all the way.
Exhaling, she rapped on the door. A tense moment, then...nothing. Summer's heart started to beat faster. Had he not heard? Maybe he had and had invited her in, but SHE hadn't.
Her mouth dry, she raised her hand to knock again. Before she could, a stern voice came from inside.
'Enter.'
Summer jumped, then steaded herself. It wasn't necessarily bad. There were a million reasons he might want to see her! Maybe he wanted to welcome her in, a little late. He was a busy man, she knew that. Or maybe, she was doing a good job, and he wanted to congratulate her.
She'd stalled enough. She stepped inside.
The office was grand, with wood-panelling right out of a movie. Accolade lined the walls, and behind the oak desk which dominated the room, a line of shuttered windows gave a view of the entire city.
A black leather office chair span around, and Mr Marston, phone to his ear, held a single finger up.
'Yes. Yes, I understand. Of course.'
Noiselessly, he stood and offered her a seat, then sat back down.
'Look, listen, I'll have to get back to you. Just stall for time, and I'll have the report on your desk tomorrow.'
He hung up the phone and leaned on the desk, rubbing his greying temples.
He wasn't old, not at all. Late thirties, maybe. From his tastefully lined face to his salt-and-pepper hair, he oozed experience.
With a sigh, he sat up straight and smiled, flashing perfect white teeth.
'Miss Chase, my apologies.'
'You're a busy man, I understand.'
He didn't scowl, but his face hardened, if only for a moment. Summer's face went pale.
'As I was saying, I was engaged with a phone call that carried on entirely too long.'
Summer nodded, too afraid to speak.
'You're probably wondering why I called you in here today.'
He reached into his desk and withdrew a handful of papers. Summer couldn't help but notice his hands. It was hard to describe, but they were beautiful like they ought to be made of marble.
'I have a proposal to make, regarding your position in the company.'
'Are you offering me a job?'
'I do not appreciate being interrupted.'
'Sorry, Mr Marston.'
He raised an eyebrow.
'Sorry.'
'If you want the job I am offering, there are certain elements of decorum that will need to be improved upon. However, those will come quickly and naturally, as you ease into the responsibilities of the role.'
