"Miss Clarkston, I put your messages on your desk for you," the slim receptionist told her when she walked down the hall from the conference room.
"Thank you Stephanie," Mikhaila smiled at her, glancing at her watch. "Emily's going to be busy for about fifteen more minutes. Just send my calls back to my office until she's done if you would."
The receptionist nodded quickly, answering the ringing phone, Mikhaila walked down the hall toward her corner office.
She fought the urge to close the door behind her having the urge to curl up on one of the love seats in the office after having sat through another definitely uncomfortable weekly meeting with all employees of the marketing staff.
When she'd taken the position five months earlier she knew acceptance of many of the older gentleman wouldn't be something that would take place over night if ever, but she'd thought that by now they would've at least seen she was willing to work as hard if not harder than most of them to make things happen. But they weren't able to or were unwilling to look past her being a woman and also a beautiful woman.
Sitting in the large leather chair she ran her hands along the edge of the huge mahogany desk she'd used since moving into her new office. Caleb had been right when he said once she'd gotten accustomed to the job she'd begin to make the office reflect her and not that of what a stiff upper crust executive would have.
The typical brass desk lamp had been replaced with the twisted copper sculptured lamp her mother had sent her as a congratulations gift for her promotion, along with it was the lovingly crafted wooden file trays her father had made for her, replacing the standard issue office style. Shaking her head she wondered what her parents would think even with their liberal minds if they knew everything these items had witnessed on top of her desk since they'd arrived.
Picking up the phone she shook her head, clearing the image of her body stretched back, Caleb's mouth between her widely spread thighs while he'd sat in the same chair she was in at the moment. Their images flashing across the large flat screen hanging on the wall when he'd turn the video camera on she used for teleconferences. Looking at the now black screen she felt the dampness soaking into her panties just at the thought of watching some of the videos they'd made and had on disk locked in her desk drawer. Glancing at her watch she put the phone back down.
"Damn it, I wish I knew Alyssa's schedule so I could call her and tell her happy birthday," she frowned, feeling some what disconnected from her twin since she'd moved to Chicago and Alyssa to New York where she'd set up her art studio.
"This is Mikhaila," she said answering the interoffice call.
"Miss Clarkston they called and some packages are being brought up for you. Would you like me to bring them back when they arrive or have Emily pick them up when she's finished?" The receptionist asked sounding frustrated.
"Stephanie what's all that arguing?" she asked standing up, recognizing one of the voices as Brent Thompson, the main player in the group that still worked to undermine her authority in the office.
"Don't worry Stephanie I'll be there in a second," she said firmly hanging the phone up and walking out the door.
Pausing in the hall at the entrance to the lobby she leaned against the wall, watching and listening while the three men who'd been with the marketing department the longest stood talking loudly, as thought to demonstrate their dominance to the entire office.
"Brent, Kincaid would you care to join Baxter in my office for a few words?" she asked politely, stepping forward letting her presence be known. Her knotting she felt in her stomach not physically evident even though she felt like the navy business suit she was wearing was becoming constricting.
"Not particularly," Brent said shaking his head, turning as though to walk to his office. "These two can join you if they'd like but I've wasted enough time today listening to drivel. I have clients to call."
Stiffening her spine she ground her teeth together for a moment watching him starting to walk off.
"Well I think I need to rephrase it then," she paused smiling when he turned to look at her. "I want the three of you in my office within the next ten minutes or I'll make it a point of coming to find you and the result will be less to your liking than if you come of your own accord," she said firmly before turning on her heel walking back to her office.
"Stephanie please hold all of my calls and when Emily's free please ask her to address any of the issues she can until I let you both know," she said hanging up the phone as the three men walked into her office only moments behind her.
"Baxter if you'd close the door please, I think this meeting would be much better for all if it were held behind closed doors," she said stepping to the front of her desk leaning back, adjusting her suit jacket while waiting for the men to take a seat.
Brent the most vociferous of the group waited only seconds after the door closed before turning toward her, his disgust obvious in his expression. "What've we done wrong now, Miss Clarkston?" he said sarcastically mocking the way the young receptionist had addressed her, his eyes traveling over her body boldly, pausing at the slight cleavage she showed above the buttons of her jacket before his head ducked slightly as though his eyes were following her legs up under her skirt.
Dropping her head for a moment she took a deep breath, determined this was going to be a conversation and not a screaming match.
"First off Brent I don't want to say anyone's done anything 'wrong' so to speak but what I'd like to discuss with you is the lack of maturity and respect that each of you demonstrate to every woman that works for this firm," she said firmly locking eyes with the men seated in front of her.
"Personally I don't give a damn nor will I ever, of what your opinion is of me. But I'm fed up with the lack of respect you show to all other employees since the three of you obviously feel you've been here long enough to be immune to such things," she said, watching their reactions. "I've tolerated your comments and ignored them. I've over looked your behavior as long as it stayed within the bounds of being acceptable both legally and morally. But gentleman you've all been pushing the envelope until I'm now forced to make a stand and a decision unless you're willing to make some serious changes."
Kincaid leaned back in his chair, checking his nails as if he was doing nothing more than listening to a child telling a rambling story he wasn't the least interested in, before looking up at her again. "And what might I ask do you think you can do to any of us? Or maybe I should ask if you're wanting to share some of what your passing around to your corporate friend?" he asked with a chuckle smiling at his friends, thinking he was clever.
Pushing away from her desk she stepped around it, sitting down before looking back at them. "Baxter let me ask you, are you as confident as Kincaid that you're immune to anything I'd decide on this matter?" she asked watching the man become uncomfortable under her gaze.
"Mikhaila I really don't see why you women have to blow everything so out of proportion these days," Baxter said quickly shaking his head, his eyes dropping to run the length of stocking clad leg showing under her desk. "As soon as someone came up with the hair brained idea of sexual harassment or discrimination that seems to be the first thing one of you women screams when things don't go your way."
"Well I think that answers most of my questions, along with demonstrating your lack of intelligence. It also makes my decision much easier and I'm sure less painful for all of us," she said pulling her desk drawer open laying three folders on the desk.
Glancing at the clock she stood up, "It's now four o'clock and I'm sure that'll give each of you enough time to make arrangements to have your offices cleaned out by the end of the week," she said walking over, leaning down her arms pushing her breasts together increasing her cleavage, handing each of the now silent men a folder. "I see since none of you're sure of what I just said even though I was speaking perfectly clear English, let me break it down."
