She was a terror at the office. Hard-edged, hard-nosed, power-hungry and driven. She was gunning to be CEO someday, but in the meantime she was content to make Greg's life miserable at work.
"She" was Miranda, the young and sexy senior director who had been hired last summer. She was a stunning blonde who was all tight curves and tailored skirt suits. At first she was affable and cooperative, but once she detected how her role could be used as leverage over Greg, she had quickly developed into his ultimate nemesis at work.
Greg ran a hand through his messy salt-and-pepper hair. He was a nice enough guy, so he thought. A caring and well-educated executive whose bachelorhood had lately grown a little stale. He was handsome in a soft, worn-in kind of way that seemed to attract only the wrong kind of woman: the domineering, bullying kind.
Miranda was a perfect example, although attraction didn't seem part of the equation. He had started out liking her immensely, perhaps even feeling a little flattered by her flirtatious friendliness. Only too late he realized it was a device to disarm him as she engaged in her calculating designs to outcompete his team and wrest away his authority and credibility with the partners. She seemed determined to have Greg at her mercy. "And not in a sexy way either," Greg thought wryly. Only in a humiliating way.
Just that afternoon, a vicious email thread had put Greg utterly at a loss. He was headed out of the office early so he could go see his therapist. He needed a good long talk with a woman who didn't hate his guts.
He had begun seeing Dr. Clara only in the last month, when his work stress had robbed him of sleep one too many nights.
One of his golfing buddies - a happy, prosperous exec with a huge family of 12 children - had enthusiastically recommended her.
Dr. Clara was a statuesque Latin American woman who was the stuff wet dreams are made of -- except she was so intelligent and comforting, Greg was much more interested in talking and absorbing all of her insights about the mind and relationships.
He had been so depressed, he had originally thought Dr. Clara might put him on medication. To his surprise, her diagnosis had been about the symbolism of manhood.
"You need to demonstrate your masculinity in the office environment," she had said the first day they met.
Since then he had been slowly finding ways to connect with his manly energy: putting phallic-shaped lamps and objects in his office, wearing crisper and bolder suits and ties, even taking a weight lifting class. He was now addicted to that, at least. He was beginning to get more definition in his abdomen, and it did help his confidence. But a lot of what Dr. Clara said definitely qualified as "woo woo."
"You need now to not be the slave of this woman's desperate urgency," Dr. Clara was declaring. "She is trying to take your male energy from you. But she needs to be made to receive. This is very complicated in the modern work environment. But I can share with you a tool to soften a woman of this kind."
Greg looked at her searchingly. The beautiful doctor was bent over a drawer in her desk, carefully collecting a small object. She gently took Greg's hand, and enclosed his fingers around a small pendant.
"Keep this with you at work, particularly in your conferences with the problematic woman. Invite more opportunities even, to interact with this woman. It will catch her off guard, and you will see a result."
Dr. Clara's eyes were firm, commanding. Even a little hypnotic. Greg nodded slowly, gripping the small stone and chain in his sweaty palm.
"You will see the result," she said again, with a reassuring smile.
***
"Shall we start with my agenda items? First off, I have assigned Greg's team to provide back-end support on the Tillerson campaign. My team will act as lead."
Miranda's eyes glittered with satisfaction as she led the meeting. She was insatiable in her quest for glory at Greg's expense. Her strategems were working too. One of the senior partners nodded approvingly at Miranda, and she wore a smug smile as she glanced at Greg derisively.
Only...she wasn't so smug, it seemed. She was...distracted.
Greg had dutifully brought the crystal to work with him, per Dr. Clara's instructions, and he had been playing with it in a desultory way at the conference room table while Miranda gave her presentation.
Its dull lustre seemed to have distracted her. She looked dazedly at the crystal, then up at Greg and bit her lower lip. She seemed suddenly a little flushed.
Greg watched her impassively as the moment seemed to lengthen. Had Miranda's composure shaken? She resumed her meeting agenda, but it seemed - he felt, at least - that there was a little less naked animosity toward Greg.
"Win one for the crystal," he thought sarcastically. He had been a little disappointed and confused by Dr. Clara's gift, but it was hard to deny that something had happened in the conference room during the meeting. The energy had shifted.
Greg himself felt a bit bigger, a little more powerful. A little less pushed aside by this harrying woman.
***
What with the new campaign launch, the week went by quickly. Greg pulled a couple of late nights so his team could stay ahead of Miranda's demands.
It was nice to work in the quiet afterglow of the day. Greg's office window looked out over a landscaped courtyard behind the office tower. He took a moment to watch the sun set against the skyline.
Abruptly, he heard a noise. He was not the only one working late. Hard heels clacked down the hall, and Miranda's narrow face peered into Greg's doorway.
