People often accused him of having some sort of stratagem in mind when he selected the office across from the front desk as his own. It was true: he had an excellent view of what did and didn't go on at the receptionist's area. He had watched girls come and go: hair shellacked and nails perfect, their towering heels clacking menacingly across the linoleum floor and their smiles pristine and white. He had often been tempted to take them under his wing, as it were, congratulating them on their inflated sense of selves, but informing them that the only single man on this side of the building was Bobby Hammel in marketing who, at thirty-four, was still living with his mother and apt to make any girl naïve enough to marry him an absolute wreck. Still, they amused him and provided small, brief distractions throughout the day.
But this one really was a specimen.
She had practically materialised in the office. He had yet to determine who had hired her and no one kept secrets from Hal Steadman around here. She looked more like a school teacher than the secretary she was, with ever-rumpled hair and the dark glasses on her nose. Her skirts were just this side of too short, her necklines an inch away from too deep, but these things occurred almost without her knowledge. A curvy little thing, she was sharp of tongue and quick of wit, but she managed to keep this behind a veil of feigned idiocy that only he seemed to see through. She was clever, and--even better--clever enough to hide it. It was not long before he took more than a casual interest in her.
For her part, Beverly seemed to notice his attention in a way the other girls had not. She preened at her desk on rare occasions, painting on new lipstick with a compact mirror at the perfect angle. Throughout the day her legs crossed and uncrossed, tantalizing him with peeks of soft, pale thigh when her skirt rode up. More often than not, her shoes sided toward sensible and this pleased him somehow. She never faltered in her step. The clicking of her heels was poised, determined, unwavering. Sometimes--not often--he would catch her watching him from the corner of his eye. She would stare off at the wide couch he had planted in his office for those nights he had spent there, a small smile creeping toward the corners of her mouth, then see those wide, green eyes flick toward him. He pretended not to notice, for he knew it was a game. And when the time came for him to wander to her desk for some job-related request, she averted her eyes from his searching look and smiled softly as he stared.
If ever he were to try her out, now would be the time.
He lounged at his desk most of the morning, a slight smile on his face and making no effort to conceal his spying. She was poised at her typewriter most of the day, her hair up and back, exposing every inch of her lovely neck and face. Today was not uncommon in that he could hear his mother tisking in the back of his mind whenever she stood, her thin dress coming barely to the middle of her thighs. But it did appear to him that the journey of her right leg over her left seemed to pause a moment too long somewhere in the middle. And when she got up to check the coffee pot or take a file to Ed down the hall, the summer sun peeking through the window suggested certain articles had been lost on her trip downtown this morning. His gaze followed her as she rose from her seat yet again, beginning to pass by his open office door.
'Ms. Pine?' She stopped and turned around, peeking in his door, her smile radiant. 'When you have a moment.'
'Certainly, Mr. Steadman.' She continued her trek down the hall and his smile grew when he heard her returning. She stepped inside his office.
'Close the door.' She did so. He gestured to the chair across from his and felt a certain tightness as she smoothed the back of her skirt to sit down. She crossed her legs. He took a breath and studied her over the rim of his glasses.
'Ms. Pine.'
'Yes, sir?'
'You're looking well.'
'Thank you, sir.'
'Getting along here alright?'
'Oh, yes. It's very nice.'
'I'm glad to hear it. You've been here for, what? A month now?'
'Three weeks, sir.'
'Time certainly does fly.'
'Was there something you needed, sir?'
He often found himself thinking that Ed and Harry had it wrong when they said the girls were out of the loop on things, that they didn't pay attention or know what the men were thinking. This was one of those moments. And what he had assumed for some time now was definitely true: there was nothing dumb about this girl.
'I've been meaning to discuss something with you, Ms. Pine.' She leaned forward attentively, the collar of her dress lowering as if on command. Not dumb at all. 'You've made quite an impression on many of us here.'
