Administrative Assistance

"Well, Elaine, you made it through your last two weeks. Bet you can't wait to say goodbye to this place." David smiled as he said it, his eyes on mine for a few moments before they darted to the floor. They usually did that when he was at a loss for words.

"God, far from it, I--"

"I know, I know. I just have to give you a hard time," he said. "I won't pretend this doesn't make my job a little harder, but I'm really happy for you."

He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand in an absent kind of way, his elbow tucked in close to his body. It was an endearing gesture in all its self-diminishment. As the dean of the college, he had quite enough rank to command any room without even trying. This, though, was his preferred presence: quiet, subdued.

"Sorry for that. Honestly," I said, looking down, too. "Even with the last few weeks to wrap up, I know I'm leaving the division in kind of a jam." I'd been dreading this day--my last as an administrative assistant at the university--because I loved working for David. He was so adept at navigating the constant barrage of issues that rained down, so consistently kind to everyone who walked through his door. He loved puns and science fiction and was entirely un-self-conscious about it. Giving a huge portion of my life to any job came with a certain unshakable ennui, but from the day I started working under David, the malaise had abated.

"Oh, don't be sorry. This is the right move for you. You're a good assistant, but you should be writing."

"I don't know, David," I said, adding a sarcastic tone to my voice, "I'm excited someone wants to hire me to write, but what are the chances I'm going to have another boss that recommends depressing Tarkovsky films that throw me into an emotional fugue state?" He had been delighted when I had finally watched

Solaris

on his recommendation. I gave him a hard time for days about the movie's penetrating bleakness.

And there it was. That big smile, the one that cracked open his face in a way his standard friendly face never quite managed. The grin I had made it my personal mission to work into his expression as often as possible. David's effulgent smile broadcasted sweetness, but I always found a devilish undertone to it: he had the appearance of trying to suppress it slightly, and a slyness crept across his face in the effort.

He rubbed at his stubble as he chuckled. "Well, Lainie, if your new boss doesn't live up to expectations, I'm always happy to fill in on that front."

His use of my nickname ignited something inside me. It was the first time he'd done so, although others in the office did often enough. Moving my glasses up my face a little, I gave him a smile back. "Be careful, I may just take you up on that." There was a little bit of a pause that I let rest between us.

"Anyway," I said softly after a moment, breathing out dramatically; a performative sense of finality. I maintained eye contact. "Maybe I'll still crash the department happy hour tonight. As a proper farewell."

"I hope you do. Everyone hopes you do, I'm sure."

"It's a plan, then." I stood up, smoothing my skirt as I did. I looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. "Well, what do you think--a hug to end our three years as a dream team?"

David grinned and got up from his chair too. He moved toward me with every indication that he was going to give me a quick, one-armed side hug.

Oh a whim, I pressed my whole body against his in a full embrace. Raising myself slightly onto my toes, I wrapped both of my arms around his neck and pressed my palm lightly into the hair on the back of his head. I breathed in his woodsy, herbaceous smell. So subtle, like everything else about his demeanor, but it jolted my stomach excitedly.

David wasn't as tentative as I expected him to be. He had one large, strong hand between my shoulder blades and the other at my lower back, and his hug pushed my body, almost imperceptibly, more firmly against his. I couldn't suppress a quick intake of breath.

I didn't pull away completely as I lowered myself back down off of my tip-toes. David's hands kept contact with my waist as I did so, and only fell back to his sides once I had taken a step back away from him. The entire hug only lasted a few seconds, but the time stretched itself, elongating between us.

"Well, okay, then," I said smiling, adjusting my glasses again. "Maybe I'll see you at the happy hour tonight?"

"Without a doubt. Take care." His hand was rubbing the back of his neck again, and there was another smile playing at his lips as I walked out of his office.

**

"Okay, let's see the callouses, Kurt Cobain." I picked up David's hand and matter-of-factly flipped it so his palm was up. Lightly ran a finger over the rough skin of his fingers and palm where his new guitar hobby made its mark. His hands were warmer than mine, so I was acutely aware of the contrast that the contact aroused across my skin. I tamped down an urge to tuck my hand into his and fully enjoy the heat there.

He cleared his throat and said, with a little defiance in his voice, "I think they're pretty respectable." I glanced up from his hand to see that he was looking at me. His eyes gazed bright and alive from behind his glasses. I set his hand back down and settled back in my seat, reaching for my drink.

"Definitely respectable!" I agreed. "If all that hard work is paying off, maybe that means you'll be performing at the next one of these work outings?" I smiled through the suggestion, turning it into a dare.

"Ah, well. I don't know about that. I don't think I'd hold quite the same command with the faculty if that happened." His little chuckle shook a few strands of hair loose. I watched them tumble onto his forehead.

It was nearing 11, and everyone from the office except for David and I had left over the last half hour.

My heart sank when I caught a glimpse of someone's illuminated phone screen a couple of seats over. "I didn't realize what time it was. I'm sorry if I've kept you here too late. Do you need to be getting home to the kids?" I crossed my fingers under the table, praying for the answer I wanted.

"No, no, they're with Kari today and tomorrow, so I'm free tonight." He, reflexively it seemed, reached for his glass and took a drink of the amber beer.

"Lucky me, then," I said with a big smile as I brought the crystal tumbler up to my lips and sipped. There was an imprint of dark lipstick on the glass when I pulled it away from my mouth. We were close enough in the booth that I could replicate that stain on his skin if I just leaned over a bit ... I shivered a little at the thought.

Looking past me, David said, "There's a pretty big group of people coming in--should we let them have this table? There's some space for us at the bar if you want to do another round."

"Sure, sounds perfect." I slid myself out of the booth and noticed David watching the fabric of my skirt riding slightly up my thighs as I worked myself off of the vinyl. Heat roiled under my skin.

David pulled out the sole open chair from the bar top and gestured for me to sit. He ordered another round of drinks on his own tab. I swiveled the stool to face him, making a little bit of a show of crossing my right leg over my left.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. I finished that book you recommended," I said. "The Ruth Ozeki one."

His eyebrows raised and he stretched his face into a smile. "Yeah, and what did you think?" Our drinks appeared in front of us, and he held my gaze through his first sip.

"It was...I don't know, a revelation." I said it with a gesture of my left hand. How overwrought. I was suddenly self-conscious, wishing I'd planned a little better what I would say about this book he had so highly recommended. "Okay, that sounded like I'm trying to write a

Publisher's Weekly

blurb."

A chuckle. His left elbow bent and rested on the bartop. His shirtsleeves were rolled up now, and I followed the lines of his forearm down to his hands, where his fingers beat a rhythm on the side of his pint glass.

"Hm. I don't know, Lainie, maybe you just stole that from one of the reviews on front cover?" His voice was wry, teasing.

I laughed, nervously adjusting my glasses on my face. "I didn't! Honestly, though, I really did love it. Truly gorgeous writing."

I paused, taking a sip from my drink as he nodded his head in affirmation of my review.

Without really even planning to, I took the plunge. "Although, truthfully," I hesitated briefly. My mouth went dry-- "I've got such a big crush on you, I would probably say it was great even if I hated it." Nothing to do but to take another drink.

David barely missed a beat. "Ah, so, really, I can't trust you at all." He laughed a little.

I shook my head ruefully. "Nope. I am completely unreliable." I wasn't sure if I should say something else. He didn't react badly to my little confession, but I wasn't sure if he was just trying to keep things polite, easy.

He took another hasty drink. Buying himself a few seconds of time? A little more quickly he said, "And I, uh, already knew that first part." He searched my face, smiling. "Did you know you have a tell?"

My stomach fluttered with embarrassment. I hoped he was just teasing me. "A

tell?

Hmm. No, that doesn't sound like me. I'm reasonably sure I am

always

a paragon of professionalism." I tried to imbue my tone with a haughty and coy confidence to go with the small smile I was failing to suppress.

He gave a hearty laugh and adjusted his casual leaning pose on the bar. I had only ever seen him sit with impeccable posture, so this relaxed version of him was like meeting someone entirely new. I adjusted my glasses again just for something to do with my hands.

"I hate to break it to you, but you absolutely do. I started noticing a few months back." His smile was a smirk. He was enjoying holding out on me.

Not hiding my embarrassment anymore, I shrank away from him a little and laughed nervously. "Okay, David, you know you have to tell me what it is now. You're torturing me here!" He was quiet for a moment, and his eyes lingered on me. I thought I could see his mind racing.

"Alright, here it is: it's the way you push your glasses up after I laugh." He touched his own glasses as he said it, then rested his chin on his hand. Smugness written in his expression.

I couldn't stifle a giggle. "My glasses? Come on, David, I push them up constantly! It's a normal habit, not a...a..."

I stopped short when he took a step closer to the bar stool I was sitting in. My crossed legs touched his thighs.

When David spoke, his voice was quiet and a little deeper. "Usually, you push your glasses up by the bridge." He tapped the little gold bridge of my glasses. He was close enough now that I could pull him in by his tie and kiss him, and I couldn't get the image out of my head. "But right after I laugh," he continued, "you take the right frame between your thumb and index finger and readjust them that way." He demonstrated, taking the top and bottom of the frame of my glasses in his own fingers and gently adjusting them upward on my face. Pulling his hand away, he moved a stray wisp of my hair through his fingers and tucked it behind my ear. I closed my eyes briefly at the contact. "And you always look just a little flush after you do it. But only after you make me laugh."

When I looked at him, I was at a loss for words. I was shocked that he noticed something so minute about my mannerisms. I could hear my heart in my eardrums, the blood in my body pumping faster and faster at this new stimulant.

I could feel my face flush with heat. He took a drink from his glass while I tried to recover from my surprise.

I cleared my throat and mustered something bordering on sassiness. "Okay, Mr. All-Knowing Dean, and what makes you think that's a sign of my...of me wanting..." Fuck. I wanted to sound so much more in command of myself than this.

He shrugged. "Truthfully, I was just guessing. Maybe hoping." His face broke into a grin. "But the shade of red your face got when I said it was very flattering confirmation, so thank you for that."

I laughed on an exhale, releasing some of the building tension inside of me. I swatted at him playfully, but he intercepted my hand with his own. Not like when I had taken it up to inspect his callouses. Firmer. Slower. His fingers were large, and they spread my own apart with an unhesitant insistence. His thumb drew a circle on my skin, and I felt a velvet swell roll through me.

"Fine, I guess the jig is up," I said with an exaggerated sigh and a little hair toss. "I'm not exactly a master of subterfuge." He laughed lightly at that, and shook his head a little.

"It's true," I said. "I love it when you laugh. I love it when

I

make you laugh. I think it's how my little crush got started."

"Little? Sorry, Lainie, you already admitted that it was a big crush. You can't take it back now." He was still speaking quietly, very close to me. My hand gripped his tighter and my breath caught in my chest when he returned the gesture.

"I suppose, since you're still here, using my nickname, buying me drinks, that I don't need to dance around this anymore, then?" I said it matter-of-factly, matching his low volume, trying to mimic his confidence and intensity. Not much playfulness, no flirty sarcasm. I held his gaze. He opened his mouth a little, about to say something, but just shook his head again.

Sitting in the elevated barstool, I was nearly eye level with him as he stood next to me. I remained in my seat, but sat up a little straighter. I reached my right hand out and tugged gently at his tie, ran the fabric lightly through my fingers. Just like I'd imagined doing earlier. I reached my left hand up, pulling it out of its grasp with his hand, grazed the side of his neck, stretched it around to the back of his head, and pulled him in closer to my lips. I breathed in lightly, feasting on the anticipation planted in the centimeters between my lips and his.

It was chaste at first. So much so that I wondered if I'd made a mistake in being so bold. David's lips were warm, but they were tight against my own. I started to pull back. Before I could, though, he had a hand winding its way into my hair and his mouth was against mine again--fuller this time, taking my bottom lip in between his, edging his tongue out slowly, tentatively. A breath, a moment apart, and lips meeting again, melting together. This time he pulled lightly at my lower lip with his teeth. A sharp inhale at my surprise. I felt him smile and mirrored him, pushing into him one more time, my tongue easing out to meet his. I lost track of where my hands had landed, but any inch of his back, neck, arms under my palms ended up gripped in my fists as I reflexively pulled at him through the kiss.

When we parted, our hands slowly disentangled from each other.

My fingers drifted to my lips. They still felt hot. My breath came hot. My eyes gazed hot as I considered David's salt-and-pepper stubble, horn-rimmed glasses, diamond patterned tie now slightly askew. The intensity of the moment burned up through my chest, so much heat transforming into need. And David's smile--not dazed, the way my own felt. He was...amused? For the first time that night, I felt a thrill of intimidation at our age difference. This stoic certainty on his face made me feel shy, younger than I was. One kiss and he had flipped the dynamic I thought I was commanding so well.

I was spared the challenge of stringing my disparate thoughts together when his phone pinged.

His eyes moved from mine to the illuminated screen. "Sorry, I just want to make sure it's not the kids."

"Of course, check away." I smiled indulgently. I was focused on the rhythm of my breathing; left to its own devices it would be erratic as I reeled from the rush of kissing him, and I wanted to appear more measured than that. I tried to think of something to say--should I try for witty, or sassy? I could keep it quiet, sweet. I felt naked trying to navigate this unexpected vulnerability.

I saw his face settle a little while he read the text on his phone. He chewed slightly on his bottom lip.

"Everything ok?"

"It is, but--" he paused and looked up from the phone into my eyes.

"Oh, please don't worry--"

"It's May. I guess she's not feeling well and wants me there, so--"

"So you definitely need to go. Of course." I put my hand over his, trying to be reassuring. As if I could be resentful of his need to be with his three year old when she wasn't feeling well. "You go, I'll settle up here." I swiveled the bar stool and sought out a bartender to close me out.

"Absolutely not, tonight is on me." He smiled at the pretty bartender at the other end of the bar, and mimed signing something in the air. She grinned back and gave us a "one second" gesture as she poured a heavy slug of Jack Daniels into a glass.

"Thank you, really." I paused. "And thank you for hanging out here tonight," I added, but only because I felt like I needed to fill the silence until the check came. What a dumb thing to say, I thought. Like we were killing time at a bus stop or making small talk by the coffee maker. I was starting to overthink this. My stomach sank when he chuckled as he accepted the check from the bartender.

He was looking at the receipt, writing in a generous tip. "I'm glad I did.

Hanging out

was a nice way to end the week." I looked at him a little defiantly, daring him to come out and tease me for my choice of words. When he looked me in the eye, I was smiling slightly, and I raised my eyebrows a little. He cleared his throat, and I thought with satisfaction that my movement from timid back to playful caught him off guard. "And a nice way to end your job with me."

I shrugged my jacket on, slung my purse over my shoulder. My body was close to his as I slid off the barstool, and I felt another shock of need zip through me. Facing him, I gestured a thumb toward the back of the bar where the restrooms were. "I'm going to make a stop before I head out. But thank you for drinks." Oh, no. I was nervous again. "...and I hope everything is okay with May."

He smiled at me, but didn't say anything. My heart jumped in my throat. "And, uh, drive sa--" I was interrupted by his hand on my face. His thumb grazed my cheek. The rest of his fingers spread out across the skin on my neck, under my ear, reaching their way to the soft hair at the nape. The gesture happened so quickly, it was like it was second nature to him. The ease with which he leaned into me had me churning inside.

I didn't have a breath in me to gasp out when he bent down to kiss me again, but if I had I would have easily betrayed the excitement his nearness sprouted in me. The wet, heated contact pulled a soft groan from me, primal in how unintended. The throb of the bar's music turned it into a vibration felt between us more than a sound.

David's mouth moved unhurriedly against mine. The fingers of one hand swam in a pond of dark hair. The other found my hip and flexed a grip. It was strong; I felt him push into the soft skin there, even through the fabric of my skirt. I had a brief flash of a future I thirsted for: eyeing my body in the mirror after a night with David, seeing small, fingertip-shaped bruises on my hips, on my ass, maybe on my wrists. He would unearth the landscape of my body and lose his subdued veneer in the process. The most devious cartography.

I wasted too many seconds in my fantasy. David was pulling away before I was ready for him to stop touching me, but I didn't protest.

"Okay," he said, withdrawing slowly, increasing the space between us. I'm going to go--you're good to drive home?"

"Yes, definitely." That was a lie. I hadn't had very much to drink, but my head was spinning so much from our kiss that there was no way I was getting behind the wheel until I calmed down a little. "And you--?"