Click here for Part One
My phone buzzed at 10:47 the next morning.
“This is Marian,” I answered.
It was him.
“Hi,” he said, with a cocky ring to his voice, “We’ve decided to offer you the job.”
“Fantastic! How much are you offering so I can decide if I accept?”
The number he tossed out was lower than average for the position and I told him so. I countered. He countered. I countered again and we agreed. In less than five minutes I had my first full time job.
I started on a Wednesday, full of book knowledge and optimism, clueless about how little I really knew. It was a small work environment, so we saw each other often, the tension not quite as thick as our first meeting. But several times a day our eyes would meet and visions of him pressing me against the wall, grasping me by the hair at the nape of my neck and kissing me hard and deep would dance before me.
He waited four weeks before making his move. I had stayed a few minutes late to complete a project that was due the next day. The office warmed up in the afternoon so I removed my prim cardigan from over my sheath dress and twisted my hair up with a pencil. I stood looking at the flowchart when I felt his hand on my upper back. He grasped the zipper of my dress, unzipped it one inch, buttoned the top closure I had unwittingly missed that morning and zipped the dress back up.
My head spun. I couldn’t breathe or move. He gently took me by the shoulders and turned me around so that I faced him. I managed to inhale a tiny bit of air and then swallowed. He smiled at me and I cursed myself for being so easy to read. I new it wasn’t proper. Some would have considered what he did sexual harassment, but I wanted it terribly.
“I would like to take you to dinner day after tomorrow,” he said softly, as if he had come to a decision about it just then.
“You will need to dress up,” he continued.
“And not mention it to anyone,” I finished for him.