#Toots

by Linh Le James

  ‘Freddie, we talked about this—’

  ‘-Don’t flatter yourself. This has nothing to do with the extremely enjoyable sex we had on Saturday. I’m just going for your job.’ He winks and gives me a devastating smile.

  I storm off and barge into Rich’s office, waving Freddie’s A4 sheet angrily.

  ‘Rich! Th-the intern! Freddie!’

  ‘Ah Carla, don’t thank me. You’ve been whinging so much about not getting enough support from the admin girls.’

  ‘He’s just an intern!’

  ‘Actually, he’s a junior since last week. He’s very motivated. I don’t have the budget yet to hire someone with experience for you.’

  ‘I don’t need an assistant! I’m fine!’

  ‘Yes, you do. I know what’s best for you. No discussion. Try him out. If he’s rubbish, you’ll have to lodge a formal complaint. I won’t be able to get rid of him without good justification.’ Rich lowers his voice. ‘Look, he’s Adam Hammond’s nephew. He’s really clever. Give him a chance.’

  Adam Hammond is Mezmeerize’s CEO. Things are getting worse. If Freddie doesn’t keep his mouth shut, people will think I only slept with him to bag myself a promotion. What a nightmare. The tattoo is the least of my worries right now. Freddie is a new thorn in my side. As if I didn’t have enough hurdles to deal with.

  I kick Rich’s yucca plant pot in aggravation, hurt my foot and stamp off, cursing profusely.

  At the 10 am meeting, Freddie sits next to me.

  I protest vehemently, whispering to keep a low profile, ‘What are you doing here? Nobody invited you!’

  ‘I’m your new PA, remember? I’m taking notes, so you don’t have to. I’ll email the minutes to everybody. Let me help you relax.’

  Before I can stop him, Freddie reaches over to my inner thigh under the table and, unbeknownst to the other attendees across the table, begins slowly rubbing a spot two inches up from my knee. Unfortunately, I’m not wearing any tights and the feeling of his thumb against my bare skin is electric. I try to discreetly push him away, but his hand is firm on my leg. There is no option but to let go and sit forward to avoid people noticing any fuss.

  To my mortification, his touch makes me dizzy and my nipples hard with want. When he’s finished two minutes later, my underwear is soaking. I spend the hour unable to concentrate on anything that is said (thank God for Freddie taking notes), battling the familiar stomach tightenings of lust and willing my mind to reason with my body.

  As soon as the meeting is over, I retreat to the bathroom to finish myself off.

  With Freddie’s undeniable efficiency, my day turns out to be busy, but considerably less hectic than usual. I don’t have time to mourn my relationship with Ben or fret about my tattoo. As colleagues start to leave for the day, I’m shocked to discover I’m pretty much done with work myself. A first. I usually burn the midnight oil with Rich Monday to Friday, submerged by last-minute tasks.

  Freddie catches up with me as I’m filling up my water bottle.

  ‘How was your day, Carla?’ Freddie has this annoying knack of giving me goose bumps whenever the word ‘Carla’ rolls off his tongue. It reminds me of the moment he called out my name when he came. How silly that most of Saturday’s night drinking and tattooing business is a blur, yet everything about our torrid sex is clear in my memory – the sounds of his moans laced with my own, the smell of his skin, the feel of his kisses between my shoulder blades and his tongue between my thighs.

  ‘Good, thank you Freddie.’ I clear my throat. He inches closer to me. His aftershave makes me lightheaded.

  ‘You’re finished with work. I checked your mail. Let’s go for dinner. I’d love to eat you. I mean, with you.’ Freddie’s fingers lightly brush a strand of hair off my forehead. My pulse is racing again. I cannot cope with his proximity.

  ‘I have to go, sorry.’ I bolt back to my office to pick up my bag. As I stride back to the lift, I can see Freddie still leaning on the wall by the water dispenser, arms crossed. He nods to the admin girl chatting him up but doesn’t take his eyes off me, causing me to quicken my pace and almost trip as I get in the carriage.

  Carla

  Emily and Lola’ s flat. 6.30 pm.

  ‘Where’s Emily?’ I throw my handbag on the couch and kick my stilettos off with a sigh of relief.

  ‘Gone to see lover boy.’ Lola unpacks the groceries onto the kitchen counter. She grabs a chopping board and starts cutting up the veg. ‘Veggie pasta, what do you reckon? Fresh fettucine, cherry tomatoes, asparagus, mushies, mascarpone cheese. And lots of garlic, of course.’

  ‘Sounds yummy. If you need any help, just shout.’ I remove the bobby pins from my hair and let it tumble down in loose curls over my shoulders. ‘What a mare of a day. This Freddie guy is all over me.’

  ‘Toy boy? Bit of puppy love, what’s wrong with that? You need a rebound guy. Shagotherapy.’

  ‘The flirting in the office is too full-on.’

  ‘Keeps your day interesting! I had a fling with a bloke at work last year. Boy, did I lose weight. We spent the lunchbreaks working out in the back of his car instead of eating.’

  ‘He’s my PA now. And he’s just a kid. I don’t want anybody in my life right now. I’m just getting over Ben. I need to focus on my career, sort out some new digs, remove this stupid tattoo.’ I cat stretch and go to the bathroom to check whether the tattoo has miraculously disappeared.

  I inspect my back in the mirror. The tattoo somehow seems bigger and uglier every time I see it. It’s started to crust over, and I need all my willpower to stop myself from picking at the scabs. The doorbell goes.

  ‘If it’s Ben, tell him to eff off!’ I shout to Lola from the bathroom.

  After getting dressed, I return to the lounge and find a pizza box with a note on top. Want a piece of me?

  I open it. Four seasons, my favourite. It can only be from Freddie.

  ‘Pasta and pizza. Bellissimo! Let me send Em a photo; it’ll make her get home faster,’ Lola pipes up cheerfully.

  ‘You should have given it back to the delivery boy. It’s from Freddie.’

  ‘You’re kidding? It looks scrummy. I’ll have a piece of that. And a piece of him too if you don’t want him. He’s hot.’

  Just as I’m wondering whether to send him a message, he texts me,

  ‘Stop thinking about me. You’re doing it again. Right now. xx Freddie’

  Before I can come up with a sarcastic reply, another one arrives.

  ‘Enjoy the pizza. I’m having one myself. It’s almost like we’re having dinner together. See you in the morning, beautiful. Freddie xx’

  Carla

  Tuesday. Mezmeerize UK office. 9 am.

  The next day, as Freddie glides in with my usual coffee, I demand, ‘I fancy a decaf cappuccino today. With soy, from Starbucks only. And a croissant from Patisserie Valerie.’

  Fetching these should get him out of my hair for at least an hour.

  Moments later, I regret my order. His help would be invaluable right now. I’m bombarded by emails, deadlines fly right left and centre, Rich complains about a file that’s gone missing off the server, and the video people have left three messages on my phone.

  I decide to change strategy when he returns with the pastry and drink a mere thirty minutes later. I pile as much work as possible on him to keep him chained to his desk.

  It doesn’t turn out the way I expected. His organization and productivity get him through masses of tasks within no time. Furthermore, he doesn’t miss an opportunity to see me in my office, to clarify a point, pass on a message, bring my memos. He makes contact every time – a hand in the small of my back, fingers brushing the nape of my neck. Each visit leaves me quivering with desire at his touch and infuriated by my own weakness.

  The day is coming to an end. I pull out a sizeable box full of dusty folders from one of my cabinets and dump it at his feet.

  ‘Past campaigns, last five years. Figure out a system by which I can sear
ch by date, keyword, supplier, model, product. That should keep you busy for the rest of your life, mister.’

  Freddie closes the door and without ceremony pins me against it. I suppress a small cry, more of surprise than pain.

  ‘Do you remember how you screamed my name when you came?’ he whispers into my ear.

  Adrenaline rushes through me. His words wake up memories of lightning bolts and ecstasy flooding my flesh and bones. I gulp, urging my body to ignore the recollection and trying to regain my composure.

  ‘I promise I’ll have you do it again. Louder. By Sunday,’ he growls as he lets me go.

  He lifts the box onto his shoulder as if it were no heavier than a pillow, opens the door and marches back to his desk, turning once to mouth at me, ‘By Sunday’.

  Carla

  Wednesday. Mezmeerize UK office. 2 pm.

  My office’s walls are all clear glass, apart from the oak door. Freddie’s desk is just a few metres away, in the open plan office. His back is turned to me. He’s wearing his trademark snug jeans and a fitted short-sleeved polo which shows off his biceps. Subtly, I admire his broad stature and perfect buttocks from behind my laptop.

  Freddie has a chinwag with one of the pretty admin girls. She tosses her hair and laughs at one of his jokes, holding on to his arm for balance. She hands him a large white plastic bag, which he takes with an appreciative thumbs-up. Having watched him more closely since the beginning of the week, I notice Freddie is the object of quite a lot of female attention.

  Freddie knocks lightly and saunters in.

  ‘Crikey, you’re quite popular with the admin girls. More than me anyway – I could never convince them to support me,’ I comment, still typing on my laptop.

  ‘How can I get so much done? I delegate. They fall over themselves to do my job.’ Freddie puts his bag down on my desk. ‘Ever ask yourself why they’re never keen on helping you?’

  ‘Because I won’t be able to pay them in sexual favours like you do?’

  ‘Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all? The girls feel threatened by you. And all the guys in here, the way they leer at you when you walk past is just funny. Even Rich, I can tell he fancies a bit of Carla. He was checking out your ass big-time when you left the meeting room yesterday. Your tight little skirts, Carla, they don’t go unnoticed.’

  ‘Rich? Don’t be ridiculous,’ I exclaim, miffed at his bringing up my office wear. I pride myself on keeping it formal, and usually wear smart pencil skirts and blouses.

  ‘Yes. Rich. No wonder he nominated you to become head of department.’ He corrects as he clocks my crushed expression at his insinuation. ‘Come on. I’m messing with you. Everybody knows you work your butt off. First in, last out. Hey, I’m designing a process for all offices to adhere to brand guidelines, something we could post on the intranet. Maybe in the form of a qualifying questionnaire. Like a single-minded proposition on each project. I sent you a draft.’

  I click on his email and skim through it. It’s genius, I must admit. He never ceases to surprise me.

  ‘I can’t believe it never occurred to me. We’ve been tearing our hair out about non-compliance. It’s brilliant. I’d love to take your project to Rich so he can share it with the US. Thanks, Freddie.’

  ‘Our project. We’re a team.’

  ‘It’s your idea – you should get the credit for it.’

  ‘I’ll work more on it later. In the meantime, I know you’re planning on lunching on one of the old dry cereal bars from your drawer, so I got us some proper grub.’

  Freddie pulls out chopsticks and little white boxes from the plastic bag. He lines up the feast on my desk. The smell is mouth-watering.

  ‘Chicken chow mein, Singapore noodles, a few starters. Bon appetit.’

  ‘You got the admin girl to pick up the Chinese for you? Respect.’ I help myself to some noodles and a couple of spring rolls, manoeuvring the wooden chopsticks with dexterity.

  ‘I am special, you know that already.’ Freddie comments, passing me a dipping sauce.

  ‘Love this. It’s delish.’ I munch away and glance at Freddie, sitting across from me. He does have beautiful features. High cheekbones, a chiselled jawline. How odd that I barely noticed him all those months we were toiling away on the same floor.

  I should be nicer to him, while still rebuffing his advances. After all, he’s a lifesaver as a PA. He does have this absurd notion we should hook up again, but he’s only a kid. I simply have to make him comprehend our romp was a mistake and ensure I don’t lead him on inadvertently. Maybe we could be colleagues and friends at the same time. It will only be a matter of time before he forgets about me and moves on to one of the cute admin girls.

  ‘Freddie, I heard you’re related to Adam Hammond?’ I quiz, hoping to find out more about his background at the company.

  ‘He’s my uncle. My father also has a share of Mezmeerize. The intern idea is his. Learn the business from the ground up. Start at the bottom. Understand what each of your employees does and how they add value to your company. He would like me to help grow the Asia Pacific division. The plan is for me to learn the ropes here in London by spending some time in each department, then move to Singapore.’ He passes me the fortune cookies.

  ‘What do you want to do, though?’

  ‘I’m not too keen on moving to Asia. I enjoy London. There are a few things here I couldn’t live without.’ He shoots me a meaningful glance. ‘What does it say?’

  I open a cookie and hold the little piece of paper, which says The love of your life is standing right in front of you.

  ‘I’m not telling you.’ I crack open all the other cookies, read and discard them one by one.

  ‘If you have something good in your life don’t let it go.’

  ‘The greatest risk is not taking one.’

  ‘The man or woman you desire feels the same about you.’

  ‘There will be a happy romance for you shortly.’

  ‘They’re all about me, aren’t they? Fate, Carla.’ Freddie stands up, a twinkle in his eye and a smug smile on his face. ‘Right, I’d better finish that report for you.’

  I survey the little prophecy papers scattered on my desk in dismay as he shuts the door behind him.

  Carla

  Thursday. Mezmeerize UK office. 4 pm.

  Freddie was exceptionally diligent and unflirty today. Excellent result. He wasn’t so hard to cool down after all. I congratulate myself on my exceptional people skills and ability to encourage productivity while warding off unwanted attention.

  A never-ending meeting finally concludes, and we’re dismissed to return to our desks. Freddie had to man the projector equipment during the presentation, so couldn’t sit next to me. He ambushes me as I leave the meeting room last.

  ‘Wait.’ He closes the door in front of my nose. ‘I have something to show you.’

  The room is empty; the walls are non-glass. I’m all alone with him in a confined space. It’s enough to make my heart race and leave me tongue-tied for a second.

  He calmly nudges me into a corner and removes his shirt.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I protest, panicked at the thought anyone could walk in on us.

  He gently pulls at the skin of his shoulder blade with two fingers. ‘It stung a bit. It would have been less painful to do it drunk.’

  He displays a tattoo like mine. The same brassy two letters in loud black ink: F U.

  ‘I’m appalled. Why would you do that?’ I ask, stunned and irked by the sight.

  ‘I’ve always wanted a tattoo,’ he replies, dispassionately.

  ‘What were you thinking? That I’d go “same tattoo, let’s be best mates now”? Outrageous! So childish! You’re just attention seeking!’

  ‘I wanted to show you it’s actually not that bad. I feel sorry for not stopping you at the tattoo parlour. I could have dragged you away, but I didn’t. It seemed a good idea at the time. You were very keen on getting it done. We’re in the same boa
t now.’ He chuckles. ‘You’re only jealous because I wear it better than you.’

  His upper body is insanely attractive. I fight the urge to reach out and smooth his naked skin.

  ‘Freddie, you’re crazy.’

  ‘I am. About you.’

  He leans in, his eyes boring into me. He looks up and down my face, an inch away from it, as if considering whether to kiss me. I bite my lower lip, silently willing him to possess me on the spot.

  After what seems like an eternity, he tucks a single strand of hair behind my ear, steps back, slips his T-shirt back on and opens the door as I stand there, breathless.

  Carla

  Friday. Mezmeerize UK office. 5 pm.

  I return to my office after the last meeting of the week. Freddie’s desk is clear; he must have clocked off early on account of Friday night. Outstanding. I don’t need any more destabilizing encounters for today.

  The evening with the girls will be lovely. Em said she wasn’t going to see Max, and Lola suggested calling for a Japanese takeaway. I rummage in my bag for my phone to text the girls to ask whether I should buy some sake on the way home, but I can’t locate it.

  Instead, I fish out a piece of paper that says: I have your phone, your wallet, your keys. There’s a car waiting for you outside. Come and meet me. Freddie.

  The cheek of him! I crumple the note and throw it against the wall, letting out a guttural screech of wrath.

  A black shiny limousine is parked outside the building. The uniformed chauffeur opens the door as soon as he sees me.

  ‘Miss Davies? This way, please.’

  ‘I demand to know where I’m going.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I cannot tell you. Mr. Hammond made me swear. You’re in safe hands, though. I assure you we’ll be there in no time.’

  Most of my two-hour trip is spent fuming. I’m going to smack Freddie in the face and kick him in the balls when I see him. I will then sit him down and threaten to lodge a complaint to HR for harassment unless he changes his ways immediately.

  We arrive to Portsmouth after rush hour. The limousine pulls up at the port, which is quiet at this time save the squawking of a few seagulls. The salty evening breeze reminds me of holidays in Cornwall when I was little – afternoons on the beach with my sisters building sandcastles and mucking about in the water, hot caravans, raspberry-drizzled 99s.