© S.B. 2023 All Rights Reserved.
Reproduction and distribution of this writing without the written permission of the author is prohibited. This writing is not to be included in any publication - free or otherwise -, with the exception of the author's self-published works.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are over 18.
Gilbert Jones rushed to the nearest subway station, almost hitting a group of European tourists standing in his way. He was late for work. That hardly ever happened but things had gotten a little carried away at his best friend Dean's bachelor party. The splintering headache and saggy eyes were signs of a nasty hangover but one that he had to deal with no matter what. He only hoped no one would notice.
Unlike most people he knew, Gilbert didn't hate Mondays. In fact, he loved them. Going back to work was always a welcome experience in his book. As predictable as the office routines could be, it was nice to know what to expect when he sat behind his desk and glanced at the pile of papers to his right. After three years in the same company, he had learned the best way to stay productive without overexerting himself and that was something he wouldn't trade for anything else in the world.
He really liked his job. The pay was above average, the hours were nice, and the boss usually stayed off his back unless there was something really urgent going on, but those moments were rare. There was a genuine spirit of camaraderie between his co-workers and little to no gossiping that jeopardized that beautiful harmony. On top of that, there was also a woman that made his heart leap and head spin every time he saw her, one he was dying to run into again.
She was called Skylar, an unusual name he learned was a synonym for eternal life or strength. She was twenty-six, two years younger than him, but looked even younger on her social media profiles and especially in person. She was the CEO's personal secretary, a ravishing beauty with long, curled black hair, expressive turquoise eyes, a Greek nose, upturned lips, and a small beauty mark on her right cheek. She was almost as tall as him, standing at five feet nine in heels, and had a delicate waist and suntanned legs. Her personality was friendly if a little bubbly when she was excited. However, what really drew people to her were her incredible boobs. They were naturally big, unburdened by needless surgeries or the pressure of gravity, two perfect juicy melons she often flaunted with low-cut blouses or tight shirts. Only select voices considered her choice of attire unprofessional for her position, but no one listened to them, and pretty much every other man in the building was grateful for it.
The subway was packed as usual, with Gilbert stuck in the middle of the crowd like a sardine in a can. Luckily, there were only four stops otherwise he might have forgotten how to breathe. He ran up the escalator to get some fresh air and finally arrived at his workplace twenty minutes after his shift had started. He quietly scooched to his desk holding a bottle of green tea in his right hand and pretended to be busy looking at some reports that were almost overdue. No one that saw him sneak in quietly dared to say a thing to him, except for Thomas who peeked at his desk with a mischievous grin on his face.
"Look what the cat dragged in..." he said. "Are you okay, bud?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," Gilbert replied, neatly arranging the papers he was supposed to go through that morning.
"Did you have fun last night?"
"Too much, it seems. My head is killing me right now."
"Do you need Aspirin or something? I should have some in my bottom drawer."
"I'm fine, thanks."
Thomas Robinson was the closest thing Gilbert had a friend in his workplace. The early-thirties man was known for being a prankster but a hard-working one that never let anyone down. Sometimes, they would hang out after work to watch a hockey game or simply grab a cold beer. His repertoire of jokes could get old pretty quickly but that was okay. He was a fine person through and through and trustworthy to boot.
"I hope I didn't miss anything important..." Gilbert said.
"Hmm, no, but Skylar came looking for you ten minutes ago and didn't seem thrilled to find your desk empty."
"What?" Gilbert laid his hands heavily on the desk. "Fuck! What did she want?"
"She didn't say but asked me to tell you to go see her the moment you arrived, so I'd run if I were you."
"Fuck! Yeah, okay..." Gilbert said, his cheeks turning red. He hated being close to her and not feeling like he had been hit by a truck, but he had no choice. "Tell me, how does she look today?"
"Particularly delicious. Is this the day you're finally going to man up and ask her out?"
