by Mia Caldwell
I was so eager to be distracted from the monotony of waiting that I was the first to spy the bald man as he emerged from the elevators. I noticed that he moved with the grace of an athlete, though age had packed some pounds onto his frame. He reminded me of a former football player gone to seed.
But as I watched him, I quickly realized that he was someone with a lot of power in the company. His presence in the office quickly dispersed all the little gossiping knots of people. Everyone scurried back to their desks, and pretended to work.
He moved quietly from desk to desk, speaking in low tones. His presence was greeted with wide eyes and fearful smiles. I watched, fascinated, wondering who he could be. This couldn't be Mr. Kingsley. I knew what he looked like, or at least I had ten years ago. But clearly this man was someone to be reckoned with.
As the bald man moved from desk to desk, his questions were answered with quick shakes of the head. Whatever he was asking was greeted in the negative, over and over and over again. I saw spots of frustrated color blooming on his cheeks as he made his way up the row towards me.
"Hello there," he said to me by way of greeting. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure."
Startled that he would address me directly, I hopped off of my perch, nearly upsetting the delicate balance of the magazines again. "That's because today is my first day, sir. My name is Nakia James."
He cocked a quizzical eyebrow. "I wasn't aware of any new hires being brought on." His voice was low and threatening. I was instantly on guard.
"No sir, sorry for the confusion, I'm actually an intern."
He looked me up and down. "You're a student?"
"Yes sir, at Forest University. I'm a sophomore design major."
I could see an idea playing across his face. "So that means you are familiar with design concepts?"
"Of course."
"And you know how to work a computer?"
I was confused. "Of course I do, sir."
"And how are you at following directions explicitly?"
"I have a 4.0 GPA sir," I smiled. "Following directions is what I do the best."
"So you're an intern, where is your mentor?"
"In all the of the excitement today, sir, I have not yet met them."
"So you haven't been assigned to a department yet?"
"No, sir."
He nodded and clapped his hands together. "Then I'm assigning you to one now. Follow me." He turned gracefully and indicated that I should follow.
I hesitated. "I'm sorry, I didn't get your name."
He strode forward, not looking back at me as he answered, "Dalton Cole, personal assistant to Mr. Kingsley."
Surprise made me stumble. "Mr. Kingsley?"
He didn't answer and I scurried after him. I caught a glimpse of August's wide-open mouth as we crossed the lobby together. "What's going on?" she mouthed at me.
"I have no idea," I whispered back as the elevator dinged open.
As if in answer to my question, Dalton pressed the button for the top floor of the building. The one where Mr. Kingsley's office was located.
The elevator opened in to a glass walled space suspended high above the office floor below. We had a bird's eye view of all of the tops of people's heads as they scurried around like ants. A broad, glass topped desk nearly took up the entire space. And behind that desk stood a man, his broad back to us.
His dark chestnut hair was longer than I had expected, curling slightly above his ears in thick waves that showed the slightest hint of gray forming at the temples. But his arms clasped behind it showed deeply tanned forearms and strong capable hands. He had his legs planted wide apart as he stared down from his perch into the office below him.
Dalton cleared his throat. "Sir, I checked with the managers and each department, and no one has anyone they can spare. Since you've been gone, there's been a self-imposed hiring freeze. Except…" he gestured towards me, "for the intern program."
Zachary Kingsley turned and my breath caught in my throat. And I swore he was the first man I had ever seen.
I've never been into white men before. I've dated, sure, but never let things get too intimate. I had my studies to worry about, and my mom's health to occupy me.
And besides… There was always something holding me back. Maybe it was boredom? Maybe it was dissatisfaction with the immaturity of the guys in college?
Either way, my eyes felt like I was seeing a man for the first time.
Zachary Kingsley was the real deal.
It was the ruggedness of his face that first struck me. His face was all strong bones and sharp angles. It looked like he had been cut from stone. Dark, stormy brows perched above his oceanic blue eyes that managed to be simultaneously deep set and piercing. His high cheekbones forced them upward into a catlike curve. His straight nose led my eye down to the only bit of softness he possessed, his wide, sensuous mouth that seemed at odds with the ruggedness above it. His mouth was appealing. His mouth was kind. It was the kind of mouth that would brush against your skin gently, while his eyes lit you on fire from within.
Holy shit, get it together Nakia. If ever there was a time to fake it, it was now.
Zach
☼ ☼ ☼
"No, not her, anyone but her."
I didn't say that of course. The caramel-skinned goddess who made my heart stop the minute I laid eyes on her would have no idea why I wanted to immediately send her away. I'm not sure I understood myself. All I knew was that looking at her caused me physical pain.
I had never felt desire like this… Not for Dana. Not for any of the women who had flung themselves at me prior to Dana. This was something entirely new. I felt myself break out into goose bumps from the nape of my neck all the way down my back as all of the nerves in my body sent their message directly to my cock. And that message was, "take her."
I needed to get myself together. And the only way to do that was to work. That’s what I needed to focus on, not her sweet young breasts bobbing like ripe melons in front of me as she inhaled nervously.
"You're an intern? Great, that means I won't have to pay you if you fuck things up."
Her face fell for just a moment, and I immediately felt like shit. I wasn't sure why I was being so cruel, other than it helped distract me from the painful throbbing in my groin. I turned away as she tried to compose herself, unwilling to watch it continue to fall as I spoke further. "You belong to me now. I'll need your cell phone number and your address on this piece of paper right here," I dismissively tapped a blank sheet on my desk. "And I need you to start researching the licensing agreements my ex-wife signed without my knowledge. I need to know how fucked we'd be if I terminated the contracts today."
I expected to hear her protest. I expected her to stammer in confusion. After all, she was only a college student. She radiated a fresh eagerness that was just waiting to be crushed by me, Zachary Kingsley, the consummate workaholic asshole.
But instead of protests, I heard a faint scratching sound. I turned to see her bent over the blank piece of paper, writing down the information I had demanded in smooth, bubbly script. As she bent, my eyes were drawn to the deep valley of her cleavage. Her smooth, latte skin was made of softness and curves. As she stood back up, I almost commanded her to bend back over again. I hadn't finished staring yet.
I stared further as she absentmindedly smoothed her hands down her hips and looked me in the eye. "Yes, sir," she said softly. The way she called me 'sir' made my cock grow even harder. "What would you like next?"
"A cup of coffee," I croaked. "And then we get to work."
I saw Dalton, the sly old devil, slip from the doorway with a smile on his face. He had always hated Dana. He knew exactly what he was doing putting this gorgeous girl in front of me.
I needed to give him a raise.
"What did you say your name was?"
She picked my mug off of the desk, my favorite chipped one. "I didn't sir. My name is Nakia James."
I extended my hand and she slip
ped hers into mine. I watched as my hand nearly swallowed it. The touch of her skin was electric, sending painful surges directly to my groin. My eyes lingered on the soft curve of her neck where it met her shoulder. I wanted to bury my face there and inhale deeply.
"Nakia, I need you to go down to the filing room and pulled the accounts for Winxhing, Jioxchin and Nanchun. Do you need me to spell that?"
"No sir," she said, quickly jotting down what I had said. "I'm familiar with the biggest third party licensing companies in the world."
I had to admit, I was impressed. "Grab them and get back up here. We have years of mistakes to correct, and we’re doing it right now."
As she turned towards the elevator, I had a momentary flash of worry. Was I being too hard on her on her first day? I let my eyes sweep down to where her waist drew tight over her generous hips, my well practiced gaze recognizing several subtle modifications she had nearly invisibly stitched into to the skirt. I was immediately taken with the hand stitched detail at the belt-loops, that little couture subtlety that marked a true artist. It was beautiful work… Painstaking and flawless and every bit as stunning as the woman wearing it.
No… If anything, it was her who was going to be too hard on me. Not touching her was going to be the hardest thing I ever had to do.
Nakia
☼ ☼ ☼
The elevators swooshed open and I heaved a sigh of relief to see that August was still behind the desk at reception. "August!" I hissed as my heels clacked against the marble entryway.
"Nakia! Were you just up in Mr. Kingsley's office?" Her eyes were wide with a mixture of fear and awe.
I didn't know what else to say, so I decided on the truth. "Yes and I need your help. Where are the licensing files kept?"
"Back here, I'll show you," she said, gliding up from her chair. "What do you need?"
I read off the list Mr. Kingsley had given me. "What does he want those for?" she mused. "What is he up to?"
"Something about righting the mistakes of years in the next few days."
"That sounds...ominous," she observed.
I blinked. "I guess it does," I agreed. "But they don't pay me enough to second guess the owner."
She stared at me. "I thought they didn't pay you at all?"
"That was a joke, August."
"Pfft," she snorted. "And with clothes, cab fare and the cost of takeout, I make pretty much the same as you do!"
She was still giggling as she unlocked a small room off of the main office area. I blinked at the utilitarian grey file cabinets. They seemed so out of place in this otherwise fashionable building.
"They should be alphabetical, but I'm not sure. Mr. Kingsley's ex-wife is the only one who ever came in here." August tapped her heel nervously. "In fact, I feel kind of creeped out even being here." She looked around the cramped space. "It's like this room is haunted or something."
"Luckily, I never knew her."
"She was hell. Pure hell." August chewed her nail as her face went far away. "I think the only person who is sad she is gone is Mr. Kingsley."
I felt a peculiar tug at my heart. And suddenly, I was angry at myself. Why should I care that Mr. Kingsley missed his ex-wife? Was I really so naïve as to think that he would ever spare a passing glance for me?
"Well then, I'd better get to work!" I heard an unnaturally high pitch in my voice, one that someone who actually knew me would recognize as a note of rising panic. Luckily, August and I had only met this morning, and so I chose to believe she didn't recognize my desperate need to be alone.
"Good luck, then." She wavered for a moment, hesitating like she wanted to offer something else before she turned crisply on her heels and strode back to her desk with all the grace and poise of a runway model.
Once I figured out Dana Kingsley's filing system, which admittedly did take me several moments, I located the files with ease. And then I squared my shoulders again and tried to remember the affirmations I had chanted to myself this morning. Why did Mr. Kingsley have me feeling so off-balance? Why would my heart not stop thudding in my ears whenever I flashed back to the image of him standing at his office window, his broad shoulders tapering down to his narrow waist? I kept imagining what it would feel like to run my fingers through that wavy hair, mussing it up a bit, stroking it across his forehead as his lips sought mine.
"Dammit!" I exclaimed aloud, and slammed an unsuspecting filing drawer shut. I needed to get a hold of myself. This was an internship, nothing more and I had somehow fallen into the role of personal secretary to my business idol.
I needed to keep this professional and not let feelings get in the way.
I needed to do this right.
With that new resolve, I stepped back out of the filing room and shut the door carefully behind me. Talking the files up under one arm, I practice inhaling and exhaling with each step. By the time I reached the elevator bank, I had made my decision. I would work as hard as I could to prove myself to Mr. Kingsley. I would be the best damn intern there was. And I wouldn't let any delusions of wondering how his lips tasted stand in my way.
Zach
☼ ☼ ☼
There was so much work to be done. And yet here I was, hiding in a hotel room instead of doing it.
And all to avoid my new intern.
The first thing I had had Dalton do after I sent Nakia home was find me a new place to live. The apartment had been where I lived with Dana. If I had a prayer of starting over, I needed to have my own space. While he began calling real estate brokers, I went to the website of my favorite hotel and booked the presidential suite. It was convenient to work and had the added benefit of having my favorite restaurant right there in the lobby.
Everything I could ask for, except for one thing.
I wandered to the window, looking down at the street below. I was overlooking my own building, a rather ominous reminder of the amount of work I had ahead of me.
I snapped the shade shut and walked back to my luggage.
I ignored my suits, my shoes, my cufflinks, my electronics. For some reason, my eye went right to my long neglected sketchpad.
I opened it up, leafing slowly through the pages of my past. Old ideas, never seeing the light of day, slowly petering out until the last few pages were just frustrated line drawings, little columns of figures in the margins as I calculated the cost of my vision.
I turned to a fresh page and put my pencil to the paper. There was something that needed to come out.
As I idly drew the pencil across the page, a form began to emerge. I added shading, reaching for a warm brown Prismacolor to add caramel highlights to the skintone. A curve here, a swoop there, a softly angled brow. I furrowed my own brow as I considered the proper shade for the full lips, lost in my own little fantasy of creation.
When I was finished, I snapped the sketchbooks shut. Suddenly I had an idea that could not be denied. The inspiration I had been yearning for for months in France suddenly came barreling back into my head. I threw on my jacket and headed to my office, ready to work.
Nakia
☼ ☼ ☼
I tapped my pencil nervously against my notepad, trying my best to collect my thoughts before Mr. Kingsley noticed my mind was elsewhere. Luckily, his back was to me, his focus completely on the computer screen in front of him.
I took a deep breath and tried to focus as well, but my mind kept dragging me back to last evening's class.
Midterm grades had been posted. I nodded when I saw the string of A's....until the B- in Design Techniques smacked in the face like a splash of cold water on my dreams.
Of course I had marched right up to my professor and demanded to know the reason. My work was perfect, I knew it was. Everything was on time and exactly to her specifications.
Professor Aster Bloom was just as flowery as her name. She had smiled vacantly at me as I approached her desk, like she had no idea why I would be on the warpath.
"May I talk with you about my grade?" I asked her, feelin
g the tension in my jaw.
"Of course, Miss James," she said airily, staring at me with her wide, watery eyes.
"Well?"
"Well what?"
I felt something inside of me snap. "Why did you give me a B-?" I said icily, trying not to show my frustration but failing miserably. "There's no good reason for it, and it puts my scholarship in jeopardy. I've never missed an assignment, all my work is perfect..."
Professor Bloom waved her slight hand through the air like a bird taking wing. "That's just it, Nakia," she said. Her voice was too kind to be cutting me this deeply. "Your work is perfect. Too perfect. It's cold and impersonal. You lack...warmth."