It is after closing on Friday afternoon. I get up from behind my desk in my office, ready to leave for home after a very hectic week. I lock the door of the office behind me and as I walk past my secretary's office, I was surprised to see her door still open. She asked if she could leave early and that was over an hour ago. Why was she still here? I peeped into her office, only to find her lying with her head on her arms in front of her computer, sobbing her heart out. What on earth could be wrong?
Jacqui is a stunning 28 year old married woman and incredibly efficient on top of that. I consider myself very lucky indeed to have her as my secretary. Having her around is such a pleasure as her bubbly personality always lightens up the foulest of moods. I am absolutely amazed at what I see in front of me! I have never seen her cry in the eleven months that she has been my secretary.
I walk into her office and pull the door shut behind me. She hears me and looks up. "Mr Rousseau! I'm so sorry! I didn't realize you were still here..."
"What on earth is wrong, Jacqui? I don't mean to pry, but I've never seen you this upset. Anything I can do to make you feel better? If you need a friend to talk to..."
"I'm OK. I'm just being silly. Please forgive me. I'll pull myself together and I promise it won't happen again." she says, drying her eyes with the remnants of a tissue.
"Jacqui... Whatever caused you to be this upset has to be quite serious. I know you well enough to know that you don't get this emotional over nothing." I pull up a chair and sit down next to her. I put my hand on her shoulder. "Sure you don't want to talk about it?"
She hesitates for a moment. "Mr Rousseau, it would not be fair of me to burden you with my problems and besides, it's Friday afternoon. I know you're dying to get to The Blinking Owl for a couple of beers with the guys as usual. Please don't let me keep you..." she says
"Please call me John. This is not an office issue, so no need to be formal. The lads at the pub can wait. Unless you would like me to go... But I'd hate to leave you here alone like this." I get up to leave.
She takes my hand and pulls me down on the chair next to her. "You're such a darling!" she says. "I know you mean well. It's just that it's a very private issue."
I keep holding her hand in mine. "Jacqui, I really believe that you should talk about it. If not to me, then speak to one of your close lady friends. It usually helps to put things into perspective."
"Perspective... Maybe that's just what I need. A man's perspective!" she whispers.
"What is that supposed to mean?" I ask, slightly puzzled.
"John, are you sure you have the time and strength for this..?" she asks.
"I wouldn't be here if I didn't, now would I?" I reply.
She turns towards me and looks me in the eye. I find the sadness in those beautiful green eyes quite disturbing. "It's Mark..." she says.
Mark is her husband. They got married two years ago. He is a great guy, but a real party animal and a ladies' man.
I do not comment, but wait for her to continue instead.
"I think he's having an affair..." The tears are welling up in her eyes again. I can tell that she hurting badly.
I fold both my hands around her tiny hand. She is trembling. "Not Mark! What on earth gives you that idea?" I ask. But I'm not in the least surprised. I have watched him in The Blinking Owl on several occasions. He simply cannot keep his hands off the ladies. He seems to have a particular affinity for a certain big breasted blonde that also frequents the place. "You haven't caught him with someone, have you?"
"No, I haven't. But I think it would have made things a lot easier if I did" she said. "It's the uncertainty that's killing me." The tears are rolling down her cheeks again. She reaches for the crumpled tissue on the desk, but I offer her my handkerchief instead. "Thanks." she whispers as she accepts it. I can't help noticing how much she really loves her husband.
"Have you confronted him?" I ask.
"No." she says. "But the signs are there. And I'll just have to face the facts..."
"Are you sure you are not misinterpreting these signs?" I ask.
"Like the lipstick on his collar? Like the perfume on his shirt? I even found a packet of condoms in the pocket of his jacket!" she fumes. "Misinterpreting the signs?! I don't think so!"
Damn! This is bad! I'm not sure what to say next. "Gee, Jacqui, are you sure about this?" I ask sheepishly.
"That's not all! Some of the condoms in the packet are missing. I also noticed a few strands of long, blonde hair caught around the button of the cuff of his shirt! The son of a bitch is screwing around on me!" she almost shouts as she breaks down in tears.
I put my arm around her and pull her towards me in an effort to console her. She leans her head against my chest and sobs uncontrollably. I give her a hug. My face is literally buried in her hair. The clean shampoo smell of her hair does not go unnoticed. I stroke her back while comforting her.
Suddenly she pulls away from me. "How can he do that to me?" she fumes. "Why am I not good enough anymore? Am I not attractive anymore?" she asks without really expecting an answer.
She leans back in her chair. My eyes trace the contours of her exquisitely beautiful face, her big doe eyes, her full lips... Then my eyes scan her breasts, full and firm, the buttons of her blouse straining to contain them. My glance drop lower over her long, tanned athletic legs protruding from an almost too short skirt. "What a dickhead!", I think to myself. "How can he possibly find that blonde slut even remotely attractive when he's married to a woman like this?! You simply don't go out for hamburgers when you can have steak at home!"