I can't stop thinking about my hot boss, who from now on shall be called Mister (mostly because that's easier for me to think and type). Tensions are at an all time high, and I can't do anything about it! It's driving me mad. My only relief from it is these stories, in which I release everything my sordid mind thinks up during the days and nights.
I want him so badly I can taste it. It drives me mad that I can't have him, which in turn makes my fantasies that much wilder. So I impart to you, loyal readers, my Fantasy of Dirt and Oil, one that began so many months ago at our old store and shall continue to grow here in the new one....
It's closing time for our department and it's only Mister and I left. All the technicians have gone home and I'm closing down the computers and putting up the day's paperwork. He's still out in the shop, cleaning up the messes that the boys didn't think important enough to finish. As the manager, he feels it's his duty to leave the shop in pristine condition for the next morning's open. I stare out the window at him as he sweeps and looks incredibly wistful. He turns suddenly and notices me standing there. My face flames crimson, for I was wearing the same expression that his had been.
We both had our problems, this handsome man and I. Our problems were similar, and we could talk together without worrying that the other wouldn't understand. It was one of the reasons I'd been so eager to get back to this department after I'd been transferred back to the front. Others could claim they understood, but they didn't- not really. The profound sadness in his eyes as he leaned upon the broom gazing at me wrenched my heart. I could feel it rend as I stared back at him.
Laying the broom aside, he walked quietly to the door that led back in from the shop and leaned his head in, beckoning me to join him out there. Gladly, I went.
"It's terrible, isn't it, the mess they leave this place in? There's no respect there at all," he spoke bitterly, handing me a broom to help with the sweeping. Taking it, I nodded. I had made it a point until now not to get caught alone with him, because I didn't trust myself not to spill out the innermost desires of my heart and body to him. The last thing I wanted was for him to know...
"Krysta..." His soulful brown eyes stared into mine.
"Yes?"
"You missed a spot." He laughed a soft laugh, and dutifully I swept the last of the dirt into the little pile we'd made. "It's amazing, isn't it?"
"What is/" I leaned upon my broom, hands crossed over the handle.
"That we should be standing here now, together and alone. Alone in more ways than one. You and I, we're the same. You've got your divorce, I've got mine. Your heart breaks a little every day- I can hear it in your voice. Is it ever going to stop hurting?" Anger tinged his voice as the conversation took this turn, one which we both had avoided while there were others around. "Can a broken heart ever completely heal?"
I shook my head, and my hair floated around a bit before coming back to settle on my shoulders. "I don't think so. But it can beat again for someone anew."