lack of responsibility, using the stairway
compensated for recent inactivity. The
added tension from Sam’s arrival made him yearn even more to work off
frustration and persistent thoughts of her.
With
posh navy blue carpet padding, his feet he entered through the wall of brass
and glass etched with scenes of ocean waves, sailboats, and sea gulls. It was difficult to believe they now owned
the building in which they once leased a small office. Though the revenues from many other
businesses and apartments within the complex had proved profitable, they
compounded responsibilities.
Now
Peterson and Johnson consumed two floors with the noisy, cluttered Broker’s
cubicles occupying the floor below. Newly renovated, the executive suite offered sleek corridors, recessed
lighting to ease the pressure of work, a large central area for the receptionist
surrounded by conference rooms, a waiting room, and two spacious offices. Contemporary was the theme, handsomely
furnished, the doors and trim of solid oak, chairs of imported burgundy
leather, with illustrations of nautical scenes suitably suspended on the
walls. The exterior of solid glass
offered a cornucopia of natural illumination and splendid views of the
metropolis.
Passing
the reception area, sporting his typical broad smile, Brad gave Connie her
customary wink. Headphone pressed to her
ear overburdened with calls she sat at her desk. Like most of the female employees Ted hired,
she was young, single, sexy and beautiful, her blonde hair an added asset in
procuring employment.
Connie's hazel eyes
followed the whiff of Brad’s cologne. He
was as graceful as a matador she believed, his handsomeness bigger than
life. So smitten was she, continually
she fought feelings of insecurity. Unlike most males, particularly Ted, Brad never made advances, rumors
were he never dated an employee, still, she dreamed maybe one day to be the
exception.
Continuing his paces, Brad asked over
his shoulder, “Any messages, Ms. Thorpe?”
Wishing just once he would call her
by her first name, possibly stop long enough to notice her; Connie replied
melodiously, “There's a stack of them on your desk, sir.”
“When isn’t there,” he grumbled?
Ted’s
secretary sashaying up to Brad made him chuckle inwardly. He anxiously awaited the day Stacy’s wiggle
would rip one of her short tight skirts and expose the nudity beneath, but
doubted such an embarrassing experience would teach her proper office
attire. Everything about her pre
orchestrated her fashion, voice, and body movements adding lewd messages. Her distinct perfume swelled his sinuses, her
snug sweaters other parts. He had to
admit Ted sure had the knack of finding the sexiest of women, but rarely saw
beneath the surface. Stacy could not
carry on an intellectual conversation if her life depended upon it. Though drawn to her auburn hair, olive skin
and striking green eyes, as tempting as Stacy was, Brad held to his vow never
to bed a secretary.
”Is there a problem, Ms. Philip's?”
“Do you know when Te . . . I mean Mr. Peterson will be in,”Stacy's high-pitched voice the grating kind
like chalk on a chalkboard.
“I'm not sure. Why?”
“I'm
up to my neck with proposals returned for final approval. His clients are freaking out because Mr.
Peterson has not returned their calls. After five attempts to reach him, Mr. Somers is livid. He thinks I'm refusing to put him through and
called me a two bit whore along with other sorted names.”
Detesting the lack of professionalism
in anyone, Somers attitude sparked Brad's temper. “Bring the proposals to
me. Have Ms. Thorpe get Mr. Somers on
the phone immediately.”
Wearing a satisfied smile, Stacy
croaked, “Yes Sir.” Somewhat abated, she quickly
compensated for recent inactivity. The
added tension from Sam’s arrival made him yearn even more to work off
frustration and persistent thoughts of her.
With
posh navy blue carpet padding, his feet he entered through the wall of brass
and glass etched with scenes of ocean waves, sailboats, and sea gulls. It was difficult to believe they now owned
the building in which they once leased a small office. Though the revenues from many other
businesses and apartments within the complex had proved profitable, they
compounded responsibilities.
Now
Peterson and Johnson consumed two floors with the noisy, cluttered Broker’s
cubicles occupying the floor below. Newly renovated, the executive suite offered sleek corridors, recessed
lighting to ease the pressure of work, a large central area for the receptionist
surrounded by conference rooms, a waiting room, and two spacious offices. Contemporary was the theme, handsomely
furnished, the doors and trim of solid oak, chairs of imported burgundy
leather, with illustrations of nautical scenes suitably suspended on the
walls. The exterior of solid glass
offered a cornucopia of natural illumination and splendid views of the
metropolis.
Passing
the reception area, sporting his typical broad smile, Brad gave Connie her
customary wink. Headphone pressed to her
ear overburdened with calls she sat at her desk. Like most of the female employees Ted hired,
she was young, single, sexy and beautiful, her blonde hair an added asset in
procuring employment.
Connie's hazel eyes
followed the whiff of Brad’s cologne. He
was as graceful as a matador she believed, his handsomeness bigger than
life. So smitten was she, continually
she fought feelings of insecurity. Unlike most males, particularly Ted, Brad never made advances, rumors
were he never dated an employee, still, she dreamed maybe one day to be the
exception.
Continuing his paces, Brad asked over
his shoulder, “Any messages, Ms. Thorpe?”
Wishing just once he would call her
by her first name, possibly stop long enough to notice her; Connie replied
melodiously, “There's a stack of them on your desk, sir.”
“When isn’t there,” he grumbled?
Ted’s
secretary sashaying up to Brad made him chuckle inwardly. He anxiously awaited the day Stacy’s wiggle
would rip one of her short tight skirts and expose the nudity beneath, but
doubted such an embarrassing experience would teach her proper office
attire. Everything about her pre
orchestrated her fashion, voice, and body movements adding lewd messages. Her distinct perfume swelled his sinuses, her
snug sweaters other parts. He had to
admit Ted sure had the knack of finding the sexiest of women, but rarely saw
beneath the surface. Stacy could not
carry on an intellectual conversation if her life depended upon it. Though drawn to her auburn hair, olive skin
and striking green eyes, as tempting as Stacy was, Brad held to his vow never
to bed a secretary.
”Is there a problem, Ms. Philip's?”
“Do you know when Te . . . I mean Mr. Peterson will be in,”Stacy's high-pitched voice the grating kind
like chalk on a chalkboard.
“I'm not sure. Why?”
“I'm
up to my neck with proposals returned for final approval. His clients are freaking out because Mr.
Peterson has not returned their calls. After five attempts to reach him, Mr. Somers is livid. He thinks I'm refusing to put him through and
called me a two bit whore along with other sorted names.”
Detesting the lack of professionalism
in anyone, Somers attitude sparked Brad's temper. “Bring the proposals to
me. Have Ms. Thorpe get Mr. Somers on
the phone immediately.”
Wearing a satisfied smile, Stacy
croaked, “Yes Sir.” Somewhat abated, she quickly
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