The first time I saw her she was naked, her pale, lithe body floating above the stage in an upmarket gentleman's club downtown. She seemed to me to be a creature in a vision: a dream of innocence and desire. She was one of those women whose bodies are so beautiful that they seem unreal - slender, graceful and voluptuous, with long dark hair like a black waterfall down her back, a round, firm arse, long legs and full white breasts with pink nipples - absolutely pure and totally sinful at the same time. I gazed at her across the room as she floated out over the dark stage and felt my mouth go dry with desire. She danced with awkward grace, stepping over the drinks tumblers arranged on the edge of the stage with downcast eyes, shy and bold at the same time.
Even as she moved off the stage and gyrated among the tables, brushing up against customers, letting a lingering hand slide across a man's shoulders, she danced dreamily, with an inward expression, as if she was lost in secret thoughts, or as if she was alone in this smoke-hazed room. Then our eyes met, and it was like the bite of whiskey in my mouth, cool and fiery, sweet and dangerous. She saw my desire, and met it with that small, secret smile, holding my gaze for a second, two seconds, three. She paused for a moment in front of me, her delectable bottom perched on the edge of my table, her long legs crossed at the ankle, and pretended she was going to remove my glasses. Then at the last moment, instead, her hand went to my drink, and I saw her dip one slender finger in the glass. Leaning back in front of me with an impish grin, she touched her breasts with a wet finger, and threw her shoulder back, as if inviting me to lick the sweet, biting liquid off her nipples. Then she was gone, flirting and teasing the next table.
I bought her a drink afterwards, and she had stood next to me, cool and reserved, a sweet girl, not that good at making conversation. I considered asking her for a date, but decided against it - it was against club rules anyway, and I knew she would refuse. She said I should call her Claudia. She had a boyfriend, she told me, who did not know that she was dancing, who would "have kittens" if he found out. She had a part time job as a secretary, which paid far too little. Her dad had died when she was a little girl. She liked reading and cycling and dancing. She'd dreamed of being a ballet dancer when she was young; she adored Isadora Duncan and had danced for a while with a contemporary dance troupe in town. But she did not have the discipline to have a career in dance. She danced again, later that evening. I looked longingly at her soft, slender body and her young, firm breasts and envied her boyfriend.
I decided that becoming obsessed with an twenty-two year old girl would do me no good (my god! I was twice her age!) and decided to avoid going to the club for a while. But she came to populate my dreams and fantasies, and late at night, as I lay in my lonely bed, I would summon up her vision and imagine her lying beneath me, her strong legs locked around me. And that's where I thought it would end.
Then I saw her the second time. In her clothes. In my office. Waiting for a job interview.
I saw her first. She was sitting in the waiting room and I was on the other side of the receptionist's glazed window. And there she was, nervously fingering her briefcase, dressed in a neat black pants suit, still unearthly beautiful. Her hair was different - it was cropped short, and she was wearing small wire-rimmed specs - she looked quite the secretary - but it was undeniably her. My heart thumped in my chest. I heard it. GaTHUMP. I felt my knees go liquid.
And then time started again. No-one here knew I knew that girl. No-one knew that she danced naked in gentlemen's clubs (or that I sometimes visited them). Thank God I had seen her in time, and no-one had witnessed my gawping double-take. And, I realised, I could backtrack & return to my office until she had gone for her interview - for who knows, perhaps she would be unnerved as well and that could spoil her chances.
Her interview! These applicants were queueing up to be interviewed for the position of Charles Gaunt's personal assistant. Charles was my enemy in the office, and my enemy's PA is my enemy. Or so it has seemed to me in my limited experience of in-office infighting... Charles was the head of the legal department in our company, and an overbearing and tyrannical man. He fancied himself as a learned man, an august and educated legal theorist. I thought he was a bombastic fool. For that reason, he hated me. OK, he might also have seen me looking hungrily at his long-boned teenage daughter. But even she hated him. I would not wish Charles on this sweet young girl, but then, neither could I warn her away. She should take her chances with the rest.
But at least I was forewarned when the next day there was a knock. Steve our office administrator entered with the beautiful Claudia in tow. Except that it seemed that she was not called Claudia at all.
"John, this is our new colleague Lucy Temple" Steve said. "Lucy, John Gray. He's an old hand here. Knows all about the company. You'll enjoy working with him."
Lucy smiled at me as blandly and shook my hand briskly as would do any PA proud. She'd obviously seen my face in one of the office photographs in the staff room and had time, like me, to put on a show of indifference. Her long slender hand felt cold in mine, and I wished her welcome in our organisations with as bland a smile as I could muster. She was flustered, she was flustered - she hid it well, but for an instant our eyes locked and I saw her discomfort. I pretended not to notice, and talked reassuringly about the friendly atmosphere in our little corner of the capitalist world. As if! I wondered how it would play. "Lucy" plainly did not want her other career to be known in these corridors. Neither did I want my pastimes known. Knowledge was dangerous in these parts. If she knew how the wind blew, and how earnestly Charles wanted my departure, would she be willing to risk her reputation in order to ruin mine? Things had suddenly become more complicated. Steve started telling me that "Lucy" (I still thought of her as Claudia - I should watch that) had been working for Maya Technologies, our competitor. I interrupted him, saying that as far as I was concerned a colleague was a colleague, that I would not hold anyone's previous employment against them or use that knowledge to my advantage. Steve seemed a little non-plussed, but a wordless glanced passed between the new girl and me. Our secrets were safe with each other. And without knowing it, I had started down the road that would change my life utterly - that would lead me to the doors of the Republic of Desire and beyond. But that was much later
* * *
For the first few months Lucy and I worked as if we were nothing but colleagues and professionals. She would pass through my office and drop off a file or a memo calmly and efficiently, and I would take it from her hand as if had never happened that our eyes had locked in a dim and smoky room, my heart pounding with desire; as if she had never perched on a table in front of me, without a stitch of clothing on her body, and ran her hands over her flat tummy, inches from my face. No-one really got to know the new girl - she was good at keeping in the background - but she was well liked, and had that easy brisk collegiality and lack of malice which is the bedrock of a calm office. There were rumours that she was gay, and indeed there was a picture of a sloe-eyed Asian girl on her desk, a young woman dressed in a figure-hugging halter-top, her head thrown backward, laughing elatedly, a picture of joy. One winter morning, later than usual for work, I had seen her being dropped off by that girl, and it was true, they had parted with a brief, affectionate kiss. The other men at the office found this hard to believe, since she did not conform to their stereotype of aggressive, boot-wearing dykehood. I did not know what to think. Lucy dressed plainly enough, and only if you really looked at her and considered her (which I did, I have to admit), did you realise that she had a beautiful young body. For a while it was a sweet torment for me to be around her, and I guessed it was uncomfortable for her as well. But I stuck to my promise and never allowed myself to let our previous encounter affect the way I acted towards her. I treated her like a team player, same as I did all the other younger people in our company - even that pompous asshole Charles Gaunt. And after three or four months, I had to struggle really to believe that that other vision - Lucy as Claudia - had really happened.
Then two things happened. The first was that Lucy and I were, for the first time, alone together, in the enforced proximity of the office elevator. Soft Information Co is a “today” company, but our building is an old one, and the elevator, I always used to say, is even older - a small, stuffy, creaking little chamber that takes ages to move between floors. I was coming up from Archives with an armful of files, and suddenly, as the door closed on us, I realised that we were alone in there together. We stood opposite each other in the cramped dimly lit little space, each of us suddenly uncomfortable and acutely self-conscious. For a while we studiously kept our eyes on the little creeping dial. Then I could bear it no longer - you know how those things go - and surreptitiously looked over at her, just at the moment that she did the same. For a moment our eyes met across our respective armfuls of files. She dropped her glance again. I suddenly realised that this was ridiculous. I cleared my throat.
"Lucy," I said. She met my eyes again. "I just want to say..." ( well what did I want to say?) "... that - it's a pleasure having you in the office. I found it strange to be around you at first, but you... you're a fantastic worker. We're lucky to have you. And that I hope you're settling in. Are you alright, with... Charles?" The fact that Charles was an awful boss to work for was an open secret in our organization - the man went through PA's like they were Kleenex, and three months was about par for the course.
She did not drop her eyes this time, and simply smiled. "I can manage him."
That was all we said, and the rest of the elevator ride continued in silence. But the awkwardness between us had been dispelled. Both of us knew that in the office we had a secret, but we did not have to pretend to each other that we had not shared an intense sexual charge. And what was wrong with that? As we left the elevator she paused. "Thanks John," she said. "You're a nice man..."
