Fine Lines

"You should report him to HR for sexual harassment." Steven's voice rushes over me, bringing my steady typing to a halt.

My hands hover above the keyboard frozen in shock as I look up into his serious grey eyes. "What? Who would I report for sexual harassment?"

"Mr Brookman."

Mr Brookman is one of the senior partners at Sinclair, Brookman and Pierce, the boutique corporate law firm where we work. I turn to where I can still see Mr Brookman walking away from my desk to his office down the hall. His snowy white hair sweeps his collar and he turns his head as he catches my gaze, blue eyes sparkling as he winks at me. I look away quickly, blushing as I think of accusing such a kind old man of harassment.

"You don't know what you're talking about," I say primly, tucking the loose blonde wisps of my hair back into my bun.

"Really?" his eyebrow arches and I'm tempted to giggle at the grim expression on his face.

"Really. Mr Brookman is always very professional," I say.

"So those private dictation sessions in the meeting room are purely professional then?"

"Of course."

"Come on Jen, you can't be that naive, it's discrimination. He's never even had a male assistant has he?"

"He's just old fashioned. I don't think he even realises there are any male assistants working here," I argue.

"And when he's looking down your shirt, that's just all in the line of business?"

"Oh come on, now you're just being ridiculous. Besides, is it even harassment if I don't even know it's happening?"

"If you don't believe me I guess I'll just have to prove it to you," he says, the twinkle of a challenge sparkling in his eyes.

"I'll believe it when I see it," I say staring him down. As the wry grin slips from his face my world narrows. The hum of the photocopier and the clicking of heels on polished wood fades and all that I'm left with is the heavy beating of my heart and the force of his steady grey eyes on mine.

*****

I wrench my eyes from his and busy myself with adjusting my keyboard. Watching him walk away under the cover of my lashes, I try to ignore my pulse fluttering as if trapped in my throat.

My fingers tremble slightly as I return to typing but even as I force my body back to work my thoughts keep wandering back to Steven and wondering just what he intends to do in order to win this challenge. It's impossible of course, I've worked with Mr Brookman for the last four years and he's always been a perfect gentleman. I've met his wife, Elizabeth, and his children. I've even met his grandchildren. There is no way there is anything improper going on, but there has to be a reason behind his outburst and I'm desperate to know what it is. I don't know Steven very well, he started work here just a few months ago when Mr Pierce hired him as a second year lawyer to lighten his case load. Yet in the short time he's been with the firm he's already gathered a reputation for being, well, a bit of a jerk. Handsome, direct, demanding, he gets what he wants and doesn't care who he has to go through to get it.

My phone rings and I snatch up the handset as I see the extension number of my friend and fellow assistant Michelle appear on the display, eager for a break from the words buzzing in my brain.

"You will not believe what just happened to me," I say.

"Ooh, smells like gossip. Tell me over lunch?" she asks.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

"I'll meet you at reception in 5," she says and I hang up, locking my computer and grabbing my bag as I rush out of the office.

Ten minutes later we're sitting at the cafe down the street with steaming bowls of spiced pumpkin soup and slabs of sourdough bread in front of us.

"So good..." Michelle moans around a mouthful of bread. "Ok, so spill. What's gotten you all worked up?"

"What do you think of Steven?" I ask, wanting to get her opinion first.

"The new guy?" she purses her lips thoughtfully. "He's kind of hot isn't he? Blonde hair, blue eyes, yummy. Most importantly, his handwriting is actually legible!" she laughs.

"Grey eyes," I murmur thoughtfully.

"Really? Could have sworn they were blue."

"Nope, definitely grey."

"Does someone have a crush?" she teases.

"No," I scowl. "He just said something strange to me. It's silly but I can't stop thinking about it." She looks at me expectantly and I sigh. "He thinks that Mr Brookman is... inappropriate. He intimated that he may have looked at my..." I wave my hands in the region of my chest, unwilling to say the words out loud.

"Finally!" Michelle squeals, rocking her chair back and forth in laughter. "I thought you'd never notice. I mean Mr Brookman is lovely but he really is a bit of a perv. Haven't you ever wondered why he went through four assistants the year before he hired you? You're always so prim and proper I was starting to think you'd never realise."

"He does not!" I exclaim in horror as Michelle continues to laugh. "Besides, I am not prim and proper," I pout.

"Maybe you're hiding your inner wild child deep inside," she concedes. "Way deep down."

"I would shock you with my wild side," I declare but as she laughs again my confidence deflates. "In any case, it still doesn't explain why Steven thinks I'm being harassed. It's not like Mr Brookman is really doing anything wrong. I mean I never even noticed!"

She shrugs, "maybe he's just jealous."

Hmm... Steven jealous, I'm not quite sure what to think of that.

*****

The following day work returns to normal and with the partners tied up in meetings all morning it's easy to forget what happened yesterday. However when Mr Brookman comes rushing over to my desk with an armful of case files in the afternoon, I feel myself tense. Steven and Michelle's words come rushing back to me and I blush as I stand and take the files from him.

"Jen, could you be a dear and make a few quick changes to these letters before they go out today?"

"Of course, have you made your corrections on the originals?" I slip into work mode and find it's easier than I would have believed to put aside my personal thoughts.

"How about I just dictate the changes to you now?" he suggests.

"Not a problem," I say and quickly bring up the letters on my computer as Mr Brookman flicks through the files.

"That's it, the Atlantic letter, reference 3107AB," he says.

"Ok, ready when you are."

"It just needs another comma here," he says leaning over me to point at the monitor. "And the word 'when' should be changed to 'where'."

After Steven's comments yesterday I find myself noticing just how close Mr Brookman is standing. Close enough to feel his body heat through the thick fabric of my suit jacket. His breath flutters over my hair and I find myself holding my breath as I finish typing the changes and updating the file version.

"All done!" I say a little too enthusiastically as I hit save and print.

"You're a gem! What would I do without you Jen?" he beams and as he takes the file back from me I've become uncomfortably aware of where his hands are and notice as his hand grazes the side of my breast. It's just an accident, I remind myself. I wouldn't even have noticed had it happened yesterday but now everything is taking on new meaning.

"I'm sure you'd be just fine," I laugh and try to ignore the uncomfortable feeling growing in my stomach.

As Mr Brookman walks away my inbox chimes with a new message. My heart quickens as I notice it's from Steven. I hesitantly open it and groan as I read.

RE: Definition of sexual harassment

I know you're a little naive so I thought you might need a definition before you'll recognise it in the real world.

Sexual harassment may include: - staring or leering - unnecessary or unwelcome touching - sending sexually explicit emails...

I'm about to delete the email when I become furious and hit the reply button instead.

If I'm that naive wouldn't I have trotted into HR like a good girl after you told me I was being harassed yesterday?

His reply is almost instant.

Maybe you're just selectively naive...

I look into his office where I can see him sitting at his desk through the clear glass window and scowl. He gives me a mock salute and I feel the corner of my mouth quirk up and struggle to suppress the urge to smile as I notice him grinning at me. He does have a very cute smile, the man is gorgeous I'll give him that. I'm sure he would even be quite pleasant if he wasn't trying to drive me crazy. Deleting his message from my inbox I try to ignore the way my heart is beating faster as I slip my headphones on, losing myself in typing.

*****

The rest of the week passes in a blur and things with Mr Brookman have finally gone back to normal. I just needed to remember that this was the same man that gave me my first job, the man that sends me postcards when he's on holiday and makes sure I have my birthday off every year. He started his career working in a very different world before this new PC era was thrust upon him. Is it really that big a deal if he has trouble looking me in the face instead of the boobs occasionally? Thankfully Steven seems to have given up his torment but I've felt his eyes on me all week - a glance here, a scowl there and I'm feeling the anticipation build, knowing that he's just biding his time.

"Glass of wine Jen?" Mr Brookman offers as he makes his way around the office, pouring a glass of white for me and placing it beside my keyboard.

"That would be perfect." I accept the glass gratefully, taking a sip and notice that while I've been working Friday night drinks seem to have started with full force.

"You should finish up for the day, enjoy yourself. You deserve it," he says.

"Thanks," I smile up at him and shut down my computer as he continues to make the rounds gathering everyone in the boardroom.

Friday night drinks at Sinclair, Brookman and Pierce are a bit of a tradition. Attendance is compulsory and the partners serve the employees for a change, pouring drinks and handing out nibbles. It used to be a weekly ritual until the firm started to grow and the alcohol consumption started to exceed the entertainment budget. Now it's more of a bi-monthly event.

I head to the boardroom, glass in hand and as I weave my way through the office I feel a hand grip my elbow, pulling me aside.

"Are you sure it's safe to be drinking?" his breath rushes hot against my ear.

I wrench my elbow away and sigh as I whirl around and see Steven leaning over me, clutching a glass of his own in a tight fist.

"Are you sure it's safe for

you

to be drinking?" I counter.

""I can't stand the way he looks at you," he says running a hand through his hair distractedly, glaring past me at Mr Brookman.

"How does he look at me?" I ask curiously. It seems that Steven may have started drinking a little earlier than everyone else. His eyes are glassy and he seems unfocused.

"Like you're just a pair of tits. He doesn't appreciate you," he says.

"And you do?" I tease.

He lowers his voice and moves closer to me,"I would appreciate

all

of you," he says softly, his eyes running over my body pausing on my lips, my breasts, my hips. Suddenly I feel flushed, exposed before him and not at all prim and proper.

I shiver and press against him, feeling his warmth seeping into me. "You know you're much more pleasant when you're not trying to challenge me," I say, arousal curling through me like a dark promise.

"That's right, I still have a bet to win don't I?" He brightens as he leans closer into me, running his hand down my arm. The gesture is almost innocent but my skin ignites, electrified in the wake of his fingers.

"You can be a bit of a jerk you know that?" I say and notice as he shrugs, pulling back from me that he's loosened his tie. The triangle of flesh exposed by his open collar looks tantalisingly smooth. I swallow hard, quelling the desire to run my fingertips over his bare flesh. I walk away from him, away from temptation, moving further into the room to the safety of the crowd.

"Where have you been?" Michelle asks as I reach her.

"Talking to Steven," I mutter, swilling the rest of my glass in one long gulp.

"Have you ever considered turning his game around on him?" she asks, taking note of my flushed cheeks and trembling hands.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, in order for a sexual advance to be considered harassment it needs to be-"

"Unwanted."

"Exactly," she nods. "You can't harass the willing. I think I have an idea if you want to, you know, screw with his mind a bit," she grins.

Twirling my empty glass between my fingers I consider her words, a vision of Steven thrown off guard floating through my mind. "OK, I'm in."

*****

Michelle's plan is simple. Since Steven has such a big problem with Mr Brookman looking at me, I just need to give him enough evidence to infer that I'm not only aware that it's happening but that I'm encouraging it. If Michelle is right it will drive Steven crazy and force his silly challenge to a halt.

Monday morning I dress carefully in a white shirt just one size too small, tight across my breasts and unbuttoned to show a hint of cleavage. A pleated black skirt, only just long enough to be work appropriate completes my outfit. With my hair smoothed back in its usual bun I look like the proverbial sexy secretary and I blush, hoping that I'm not making myself ridiculous.

Walking into work Michelle gives me two thumbs up and a long whistle as she looks me over, bestowing her seal of approval. Thankfully the rest of the office doesn't seem to notice and I relax as I slip into my chair.

"You look pretty today. Very stylish," Mr Brookman greets me and I smile at him, glancing quickly into Steven's office. I'm eager for his reaction, but the lights are off and his desk is empty.

"Thanks, just trying something new," I say as he drops his tapes into my in-tray.

"It suits you," he winks and walks away leaving me staring at Steven's desk wondering where he is as my heart begins to sink.

By noon Steven still hasn't arrived at work and I feel myself becoming irritated. I throw myself into my work, eager for a distraction and when I receive a strange meeting request that afternoon. I accept it eagerly.

Dictation session, Meeting Room 3

The meeting is scheduled for half an hours time. It's short notice but it's a quiet afternoon and I'm looking forward to getting away from my desk.

When I enter the room instead of being greeted by Mr Brookman's smiling face I'm surprised by Steven's knowing smirk. Stumbling in the doorway I check the room number again but when he starts to speak I realise I've been set up.

"Jen, glad you could make it," he says. "I just have a few private documents to dictate if you wouldn't mind? Shut the door behind you, there's a dear."

I hesitate in the doorway and feel the familiar tension that surrounds our exchanges sweep through me, that maddening blend of irritation and arousal. It's obvious he has something in mind so I decide to play along. He's chosen to sit on the small couch instead of at the table so I sit in the armchair opposite him and position my notepad over my knees, pen poised to take notes.

"A letter to Mr Sawyer, if you please?" he asks while looking obviously at my chest and I'm thrilled that he's playing directly into our plan.

"Of course. Ready when you are," I smile at him sweetly and angle my cleavage toward him. I'm gratified when I see his smug smile falter slightly.

He coughs and shuffles his notes as he begins to speak. "Dear Mr Sawyer, comma, new line. I write to you in regards to..." he dictates and I fall into work mode taking notes, effortlessly keeping up with him as he dictates his letters.

We've been at it for half an hour when he pauses suddenly. "Hang on a second, I just need to check that last paragraph."

"Starting from?" I offer to read it out for him but he walks around the back of my chair and leans over me. His breath warms my cleavage as he runs his finger down the page looking over the last paragraph. As he pulls his arm back his hand brushes the side of my breast in a way that seems accidental but I know is anything but. Seizing the opportunity I press my breast into his arm, hardened nipples prodding his bicep and a thrill runs through me as I hear him inhale sharply in surprise.

"I think you forgot the part where the sexual attention needs to be unwanted in order for it to be harassment," I say softly, resisting the urge to laugh as his eyes widen in shock and I take advantage of having him off guard for once. "I think this is what you would call flirting," I tease.

"Damn," he says, eyes narrowed in frustration.

"You were so eager to harass me? Were you expecting me to cry and run to HR or did you imagine having your way with me in here?"

I'm not sure where I'm going with this, I'm pretty sure he hasn't thought this through and for that matter neither have I, but I finally have the upper hand and I'm on a roll. Standing up to circle the room I look for the right vantage to make my point.

"Office sex is usually done over a table right?" I ask, leaning over the boardroom table and wiggling my arse at him playfully as I wait for him to crack under the pressure and apologise. Looking back I enjoy his startled expression and press my advantage. "So are you finally willing to admit that I'm not quite so naive after all?"

"Only if you're willing to admit that Brookman looked down your shirt," he says, staring fixedly at the round curve of my arse.

"Maybe you're right," I concede. "But it wasn't harassment. If I felt uncomfortable I'd say something. OK?"

"OK fine, you win," he says, his voice rising as he crosses the room. "You are driving me crazy. You always seemed like the angelic innocent being preyed on by a dirty old man. How could I not say something? Now you're tempting me and I don't know what to do. You are driving me absolutely insane." He grabs me roughly pulling me into his arms, feeling him twitch against me I instinctively grind back into him. Touching him feels as natural as breathing and I've forgotten how wrong this is, losing myself in the moment.

"You're teasing me right now, aren't you?" he asks, his voice husky yet uncertain as he cradles me, his hands moving tentatively over my breasts, tracing their curves through the fabric of my shirt..

"Well, I

was

teasing but I didn't expect it to feel this good." Leaning back into him I sigh as I feel the twitch in his pants harden and lengthen against me. My body moistens in response taking the situation far beyond the gentle teasing I had planned.

"What are you doing to me?" he groans and his hands harden against my breasts, gripping the flesh roughly through the padded cups of my bra. Moving suddenly Steven flips the hem of my skirt up over my waist and all reason is lost. His hands slide over my hips to cup the cheeks of my arse, thumbs kneading my skin as his breath rushes over the back of my neck. He kisses his way down my spine, my shirt puckering beneath his movements, heart beating loud in my chest.

"Are we really going to do this?" he asks, pulling back from me.

I freeze as my thoughts return and the implications behind his question come rushing back. Are we really going to have sex right here in Meeting Room 3 or are we going to go back to our desks as if nothing ever happened? Suddenly the last thing I want to do is to act like this means nothing. I want to master him, feel him, breathe him in and coax that twitch of his lower, against me, inside me. I lean back into him and wrap my arms around his neck, rubbing the soft hair at his nape between my fingers to reassure him.

"We're really going to do this. Unless you have any objections?" His lips hot against my neck put to rest any thoughts of objection and my eyes close as I focus on the feeling of his lips on my skin and I turn to kiss him, his tongue meeting mine. I take him into my mouth, tasting him, learning him from the inside out. I need to feel connected to him, to know that I'm not alone in this crazy moment. To know that we're reaching for the insanity of this pleasure taken here, now, together.