She had a reputation. Her mouth gotten her into trouble on more than one occasion, and today was no different. Jackson Ferral had given her the position on one condition- she keep in shut. She was to bow her head and do her job one depression of the typewriter at a time. He was a friend of her fathers, or rather, a business acqintance. Mr. Ferral didn't have friends, not that Vera was aware of. No one called, wrote, or visited so she saw it for what it was.
His daughter was the same age as Vera they attended the same college- Kit full time, Vera only part as she had to maintain a job to afford the tuition. Her father was a good man, but he had faced hardships financially and couldn't afford to send her to school after her brother had already attended.
Kit though, Kit was a nasty sort of girl of privialge. She was richer than most thanks to her daddy and she made sure everyone knew it.
Vera had always hated her. But tolerating her was part of the job. They were both cheerleaders for the school, and taking her in heavy doses took a great deal of willpower.
Luckily Vera had that in spades.
On this particular day, a Mrs. Putnam came about, trying to arrange for an appointment with Mr. Ferral. This was the third time this week she had shown up without an appointment and the third time she had to tell her no. He was strict on drop in visits from clients and while other men in the office took them, he, most certainly, did not.
Words were passed, something involving the words "Selfish righteous prude" and she stormed off. Vera knew immediately after she said it, it would likely cost her her job.
When he called her in she replaced her earring out her phone down and rose. Her heels clicked softly on the polished wood floor, her skirt cut just at mid thigh falling easily into place. Her fashion was considered modern by the other secretaries but Mr. Ferral didn't mind- so long as she wore heels.
She slipped inside his office and knocked at the doorframe. "Yes, sir?" she stood as tall as she was able despite her short stature. She was a pretty thing of nineteen with long platinum hair that fell in soft curls, full lips, bright green eyes and curves to rival Marilyn Monroe.
Genetically she had made out like a bandit, the only thing requiring tailoring was the shade of her hair.
She looked up and smiled, dimples set deep in her cheeks as she prayed he'd over look her little mistake.
Mr. Ferral looked up from his desk. He was a painfully handsome man of 41 with bright blue ayes. His face was lined and weathered just enough to remind you of his age but not enough to make him unattractive. He had a faint dusting of wrinkles, his hair dark at the roots flushed with red. He was tall, and he was broad, build like an football player with thick arms and a sturdy chest.
He sat just then and looked at her, brows up. "Close the door." He was always blunt but how he was something sterner. She did as she was told and then stepped towards his desk, fingers twisting together nervously behind her back as she stood before him.