Suddenly, my private elevator pings and the red dress is walking toward me, my lunch in hand. I watch Kelsey’s hips sway as she makes her way to my desk. Her mass of chocolate ringlets have been neatly tamed into larger curls and are held back from her face by a crimson scarf that matches her dress. It’s a naughty combination of classy sex appeal and girlish innocence.
She knocks hesitantly, even though my door’s open.
“Hi Mr. Commons,” she greets. “Your lunch?”
“Come in,” I nod. “So, what did you bring me? It smells delicious.”
She smiles shyly.
“I wasn’t sure what you like but I figure that healthy is the way to go? It’s brown rice, greens, grilled chicken, red pepper hummus, cucumbers, olives, tomatoes, and pickled onions. I know cheese isn’t all that healthy but I had them sprinkle a little feta on top. Mediterranean food just isn’t complete without feta cheese. And then I got you tzatziki and a Greek dressing on the side. Tzatziki is my favorite and it’s made with yogurt so it shouldn’t be too unhealthy but I didn’t want to ruin your lunch by having it put on top…”
“It sounds perfect. You seem to enjoy Mediterranean food.”
She blushes with self-consciousness.
“I enjoy all food, as you can tell.”
“Well then, prepare yourself for lots of island food. I understand Corrine has informed you that you’ll be accompanying me on a business trip? The resort where we are staying has quite a few amazing restaurants, and they put on a brunch buffet that has me rolling out of there every time I go. Have you been to Tahiti before?”
She shakes her head, those brown ringlets bouncing.
“No, I haven’t. What should I pack for this trip? Am I going to be attending business meetings with you?”
I smile and try to look innocent.
“It’s all very casual down there, sundresses and shorts. And a swimsuit. There will be time to relax in that crystal blue water.”
“Oh, I don’t swim,” she says, biting her lip.
My intercom buzzes again, and I’m immediately annoyed.
“Legal is on line one Mr. Commons,” Corrine’s haughty voice comes through.
“Kelsey, I’m afraid I have to take this. A car will arrive to take you to the airport at 7:00 am. I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”
She blushes and nods, making her way out of the office before shutting the door. Meanwhile, the lawyer on the other line starts blabbering about something or other, but I don’t hear. Instead, I have visions of Kelsey dancing before me: that luscious figure, dressed in a tight red polka-dotted dress. Or in a tiny string bikini, her breasts straining against the fabric. Or even nude, in my bed, smiling at me while cupping her breasts in invitation.
I snap to. This is not the way a boss should be thinking about his employee, much less at the office. But I don’t care because with Tahiti on the horizon, the shenanigans will begin.3KelseyMy buzzer rings precisely at 7:00 am.
“I’ll be right down,” I say into the intercom. I know it’s the car Keith sent for me because no one else would be at my door at this time of the morning.
Besides, I’ve been up since five pacing my tiny, cramped third-floor walk-up. I obsessed until all hours last night about what to pack. I dragged Melissa with me after work to help me pick out some new items, just so I’d have all my bases covered. After all, I’m representing Keith Commons, the company, and I need to look my best.
As a result, I splurged on three new dresses, two swimsuits, and three sets of matching lace bras and panties. At first, I balked, but Melissa talked me into those. She says that I’ll feel more confident if I know I have something lacy and nice beneath my real clothes. It was an easy sell, because I’m a bit obsessed with lacy underwear. I already have quite the collection and didn’t need an excuse to buy more, but these matched my new dresses.
Grabbing my luggage, I struggle down the narrow stairs of my building with a large suitcase, a carry-on, my laptop bag, and my purse. My less-than-gallant neighbor, that asshole Sebastian, speeds by me without a backward glance at my struggle. I hear the front door bang, and seconds later, an older gentleman is making his way up, two steps at a time in a crisp black suit and tie. He must have snuck in when my neighbor breezed out.
“Miss Laine! Mr. Commons would tan my hide if he knew I let you handle those bags,” the older man greets. “I’m Cornelius, or just Cornie for short.”
“Cornie!” I exclaim. “I am so pleased to finally meet you.”
After all, I’ve spoken to Cornie dozens of times while making travel arrangements for employees at the company. In fact, I’ve even made arrangements for a few ladies whom I suspect were Mr. Commons’ paramours. My face burned as I did it, but I didn’t hesitate. He’s the boss, and he can do what he likes. Meanwhile, Cornie smiles at me.