"Ok Pancrak, you and your team are good."
The company CPA leaned back after punching in the last bit of data. Pancrak leaned back too, blowing out a long held breath.
"Thanks Ma'am," he said, stretching.
Not for the first time had he read the placard on her desk, "Crusher Of Hopes, Destroyer Of Dreams" Finishing the money end of a job was always stressful. She leaned back in her leather chair, relaxing herself as she said, "Just between you and me, what was the receipt for B&H consulting?" She'd known him too long and knew the reputation of his team not to know that somewhere, buried and legal, was some sort of deviltry.
Pancrak turned red then burst out in a laugh. "Ma'am, you know."
"No, I don't!" was the reply, her eyes shining and bright teeth flashing in a wide smile. She was laughing back with him, like catching a small boy in the cookie jar.
"Beer and Hookers," he laughed.
"Aye, you guys are soooo bad!!" She slapped lightly at his knee. "Tell me more of the Trip." It was late, but he enjoyed the CPA's company. She was an extremely intelligent woman, confident and professional. Besides he liked to make her laugh.
"OK, But lets get some coffee and something to eat, I'm starved," he said as he got up, grabbing his files while she shut down her computer and closed down her office. It was late and he hadn't noticed when the rest of her subordinates had left.
She stepped out of her office and locked the door behind her. Pancrak looked at the petite frame, so neatly put together, wondering what she looked like when not wearing the company dress uniform of dark green blouse and grey pants. Both items of clothing were slightly large on her athletic frame. Pancrak liked his women a little bit meatier but found the CPA's olive skin and exotic features attractive.
They walked down to the cafΓ© at the heart of Bane's World Security Consultants Planetary Headquarters. They caught each other up on small talk. Pancrak and his team had been on a survey mission on Rusafa, finding out if the inhabitants there could truly afford the high end "help" offered by the BSC. It was a long three weeks standard, full of little adventures that he told the CPA, Marta, in ways that made her break into gales of laughter. Her loud clear laugh chased some of the demons from his mind that were really attached to a few of the stories. The fun was in the telling anyway.
They found a table and ordered. When the food came they were still talking, falling into comfortable conversation, Pancrak wrapped in her very words, as always enthralled with her intellect, and quick wit. Somehow, the conversation turned to personal matters. Some things are best left buried under old scars, no matter what friend asks them. For some reason he found himself divulging things to her that most men don't even tell themselves in the dark. Warning bells went off in his head, "Marta, how are you and Tom doing?"
Like throwing cold water in her face he saw her tense up. Dropping a steel wall between them. Her dark eyes, seconds ago like deep warm pools of ink, now froze into hard, obsidian marbles. She looked away for a moment, tongue subconsciously licking her full lips.
It came out in a flood, just like her to do that. Speaking very quickly, with great animation and passion. He could tell she was hurt. And because of their friendship he thought more of the counseling and helping her than anything else. So he tried. Sage advice from a veteran of The Domestic Wars. She sat back and relaxed some, listening, arguing. He knew Tom, they weren't on the same teams, or even in the same branch. But he'd worked with him on some projects and a few of Pancrak's cousins in Tom's branch knew him and spoke well of him. Nice guy. Pancrak thought Marta thought the world of him, until about 20 minutes ago.
Not that she was visibly upset; she would not show that. Women like Marta do not get to be one of the junior vice presidents of BSC by being the weak and weepy types. But Pancrak knew, because he had the knack of knowing what lies under a persons skin. His green eyes could look into a naked soul if he wanted too. What he saw when next he looked into Marta's made him shiver.
Marta never did anything by impulse. She was very calculated, very well planned. Most accountants were. That's why Pancrak wasn't an accountant. She stood up to leave; Pancrak did too. She turned and in a far off voice said, "Come with me." In the pit of his stomach Pancrak knew he should turn and leave, say no, make an excuse, save her from herself. But all he could do was follow. They weren't going to no church outing. The instinct that had saved him from hundreds of ambushes was screaming in his head and gut again. Caught between the loyalty to his wife and the excitement of this woman.
"Like a lamb to the slaughter..." he laughed to himself and gave himself over totally to the moment. Enjoy the now, forget the later.