Oh God, it's a new problem...
******
Today I am wearing a flattering belted, button-front dress with broken elbow-length sleeves. Low heeled black pumps along with a pair of sheer black stockings complete the look.
My hair is hanging about my face and shoulders in a wave of curls.
"Whoa, did I miss daylight saving time or something?" I add checking the time on the kitchen clock. "Why have you dressed for work already and I thought you said you were quitting?" Emmy murmuring.
"I am," I answer, getting an apple from the fridge to munch on. I am on a mission to reach the office long before six and leave my resignation letter on Mr.James's desk before he gets in. "I'm just dropping off my resignation letter effective immediately."
Her eyes travel back to the clock. "At ten minutes to five in the morning?"
"Yup. Call it the coward's way out."
I give my outfit another suspicious look. "If you're reigning why are you dressed to kill this morning? Looks like you even took time to wield the curling iron. At what time did you actually get up to have this all done?" Emmy said to herself.
I blush and look away. How do I explain that even though I don't plan to run into Mr. James, if I do, I want to look my very best? It's not about wanting to be noticed by my insufferable boss, I convince myself. Why would I want attention from that bully?
"Just going out with a bang," I reply and jiggle my car keys.
The drive from the apartment to the office is nerve-wracking. I have to modulate my breathing over the final five minutes or so but it still doesn't help as I park my car.
I'm relieved to find only a few cars parked in the lot. What is wrong with these people? Always the first to be at work and the last to leave? I don't have much of a life beyond work and I wouldn't be caught coming to work at these hours.
With my resignation letter in hand, I enter the building, greeting the security guard. After two years working at Cather's I know all the different security guards who come on duty but I didn't recognize this guy.
I have to show him my work ID for him to be satisfied I am an employee. Is this what Mr. Cather meant by Mr. James improving the publishing company?
How much is he going to change about this place? Thank God, I wouldn't be sticking around to find out.
"You're here very early today," he comments suspiciously
"Just dropping off something for the CEO," I explain, waving the envelope for him to see.
"You can leave it here at the front desk," he states with a smile now that he no longer suspects me of wrongdoing.
"No, it's fine. I work for him and have an office key. I will just pop in and leave it on his desk and be out of here in five."
He nods and I take the elevator to the top floor. The office is eerily quiet. I walk by my desk and feel a pang in my chest. Two years of work and leaving all because of this man.
I remove an empty box we'd gotten stationary in and removing the lid, start to place my things inside. Photograph of my grandmother, the last photograph I have of my mom before she died of a brain aneurism.
The last photo is of me and Jessica at graduation. I place other random items I'd bought from a pocket in the box as well, sticky notes, notepads, stapler, punch, coloured pens. I plan to leave nothing behind.
Everything is placed in the box, I take another look around. This is my first real job and I'm nostalgic that I will have to leave. I shake off the feeling and try to think positive. Maybe I could focus on using my Arts degree.
That's what I would do and forget about Cathers'. I keep forgetting, James's. I would forget about James's Publishing and James and start a new life for myself.
I push the office door open and walk over to the empty desk. Mr. Cather must have worked very late yesterday to clear them out of the office. I place the envelope on the desk ensuring it is the right way up with the words
"To Whom It May Concern" is written clearly in my neat handwriting on the front.
I notice too late the briefcase was placed on the chair around the desk. My eyes widen in panic and I start to back away at the same time the door to the private bathroom opens and Mr James walks out wearing nothing but a pair of black pants and shoes.
I gape at his muscled bare chest, void of hair except for a thin line running down the centre and disappearing into the waistband of his trousers. I don't know where to look, taking in his broad shoulders, the flat male nipples, the well-sculpted six-pack.
Heat suffuses not only my cheek by my entire body. My nipples pucker in a state of arousal which pooled in wetness between my legs. I am embarrassed at the way he makes me feel, not used to such raw emotions inside me.
I've always thought of myself as not a highly-sexed individual. I rarely get the urge to have sex but looking at him, he makes me very conscious of myself as a sexual woman being confronted by a very virile man.
At the same time, I am embarrassed, I can't help being curious. What would it feel like to run my fingers tentatively along the ridges of the hard chest? Would his nipples get all hard and sensitive like mine when he is aroused?
My eyes follow that trail of hair again and as much as my brain screams to look away, I disobey and find myself eying his crotch. Is he aroused too or is the material of his pants just close-fitting?
I could make out the shape of his manhood pressed against the flap of his zipper.
I swallow hard, a trickle of sweat cracking through the foundation of my makeup. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth and my feet would not listen to my brain to run and get the hell out of there. I have nothing to say to him that isn't in the letter.
A look of surprise crosses his features before he recovers and takes control of the situation. His lengthy strides bring him closer and that delicious temptation to touch his chest of his.
Don't come any closer! I want to scream but with the discovery of how wet I could get by just staring at a man's chest, comes the loss of my ability to form words.
He grasps me by the shoulder, once more invading my personal space without my permission.
"What are you doing here?" he demands, his blue eyes flashing shards of ice.
"I- I-I," I stammer like an idiot. I can imagine how dumb I must look peering up at him, my eyes opened wide, tongue-tied.
"Well, spit it out already," he orders and gives me a little shake.
It's that little shake that did it, made me pale even worse and my brain scatter. He looks furious and fear takes hold of me and what he can do to me with his strength.
I flinch at the memory of being backhanded into the wall. And I almost faint. My body sag and I would have fallen to the ground if not for Mr. James holding onto me and supporting my weight.
"Don't try that fainting bit on me," he grounds out in exasperation. "It might have worked with Cather but it sure as hell won't work on me. What are you doing here so early? I told you six and it's barely past five."
"I- I wanted to be here early," I lie, afraid of what he would do if he finds out the truth while I'm still around.
"You're lying," he says, pushing his face close to mine. I can smell the woodsy scent of his aftershave. It makes him seem wild.
"I'm not lying," I protest.
"Prove it."
"You tell me to be here at six. Is it a crime to want to come in early to impress the new boss?"
He remains silent as he stares into my face. I almost swoon again when he looks deep into my eyes as though seeking answers. His eyes held mysteries and- and other things I couldn't identify.
His nostrils flare as though he is angry at me. Why would he be angry at me? It is his fault. Why is he at work shaving anyway? His aftershave was too strong. He must have just finished shaving.
I've never been in Mr. Cather's bathroom before but imagine there must be a shower inside.