She was fire and ice. Something I never thought I would get my hands on and yet wanted immensely. I should have listened to my mother when she said what we wanted wasn't always what we needed. Still I felt like somewhere inside of me I needed her and maybe, just maybe she needed me too. You think I would have known better. A woman like that needs no one.
"I would like to introduce you all to our new VP of advertising," my boss and longtime friend Sylvia Prescott spoke loudly over the chaos of the work floor, "Everyone this is Clare Jennings."
There was a round of hello's as she waved at the room. I would have greeted her as well if the Sahara hadn't suddenly taken up residence in my mouth. Clare Jennings was gorgeous. She stood every bit of five foot eight in her heels. Long red hair hung in curls around her shoulders and covered the top of a crisp blue blouse with two buttons undone, it gave a glimpse of full breasts and a slim waist. On bottom, she was wearing a black pencil skirt that clung to her hips and had legs that went on for miles. I sighed as she smiled the kind of smile that reminded you of a naughty teacher who wore garters and stockings beneath her ankle length twill skirts.
It was like magic the way our eyes met or at least that's how it felt to me. It was after the initial introduction as she and Sylvia turned to walk back toward the main offices. Clare turned back around for some reason, maybe she heard a sound or maybe she could feel my eyes on her rear end. Either way her eyes locked with mine and I couldn't help myself. I smirked and leaned back in my seat with a cocky expression on my face. I know I'm attractive. I have brown hair that reaches my shoulders and deep brown eyes. I'm trim and toned and I carry myself like I'm untouchable. It's the mystery that draws most people in I'm told, I think it's my breasts but what do I know.
Now that I think about it, the whole thing could have backfired, and I could have found myself signing the dotted line of a sexual harassment lawsuit, but I was lucky that day. Clare looked at me from head to toe and back again before winking and continuing her way. Unless my eyes deceived me, there was an extra sway to her hips.
I didn't see her again until the next day. Walking into the building, I was heading for my cubicle when someone grabbed my arm and pulled me around a corner. Swallowing my shriek, I smacked my attacker in the arm and huffed, "Jesus Sylvia, you nearly gave me a heart attack."
She at least had the decency to look apologetic, "I'm hiding," she whispered as though the entire building would hear her.
Lowering my voice, I mocked her, "Hiding from whom?"
It was Sylvia's turn to hit me on the arm, "This is serious. I'm hiding from George."
I paused and narrowed my eyes, "George - George? From Accounting George?" At her guilty look I groaned, "Oh Sylvie, tell me you didn't."
"One gin and tonic too much Alex," she admitted, a blush tingling her cheeks, "Help me."
"Ugh, alright," I conceded, "I can get you to your office but what are you going to do then?"
"I've got Clare all day, so I won't have time to visit with him should he come by," she grinned proudly.
"And when Clare no longer acts as your shield?" I inquired.
