Ethel always loathed having to deal with the "higher ups." They always took her imparting her information to them as if it were a personal attack, not as the education it should be. Today, she felt no different towards them as she prepared her information and aligned all her ducks. Around 4, she had an appointment suck up her ego and bow to the plant manger. Oh – how she hated this. She had to teach him about encryption keys and why he should use them. The new plant manager had been sending sensitive information to the other department heads using no additional protection. Being in their line of work, this information would prove to be harmful if it fell to outsiders. It was her job to see to it that the company was armed against this, as best she could.
It was also her job to filter emails and internet usage. Log files were her life. She sorted them by IP address to see what type of user this new manager is. It's always good to know the enemy. Unfortunately, the manager was a by the book type man, according to his usage. Sites that were visited pertained to work and research only – definite sign of personality and lack of pulse. No conversations starters to be found there. She sigh and logged off. It was time to face the beast.
She decided to not call first to warn him of her arrival. She had an appointment; no need to remind him. Secretly she relished being able to barge in under that type of protection. She hoped to catch him off guard. This would give her the upper hand.
She rapped on the door with authority. She heard no shuffling of paper, no sign of disarray. "Damn" she thought to herself. She heard him call her into his office. Taking a deep breath she opened the door; it was show time.
He stood to greet her. They assessed each other during the salutations. She was shocked that there was an inner reaction to this. She never had an issue with being attracted to anyone at the work place. That statement was purposely in past tense. She was immediately drawn in by his physical appearance. She figured he was approximately five and a half feet tall. She loved, absolutely love short, stocky men. He was lighter skinned as Indians go. A feature she attributed to his level in the caste system. As he spoke, she desperately tried to regain her composure on the inside, praying that she did not show any concern for him on the outside.
She squared her shoulders and began to slowly approach the topic at hand, security. She asked him to show her what and how he does what it is that he does. She rounded the desk to stand behind him. He turned toward the monitor, hoping that she could not detect his physical reaction to her.
As he typed, clicked, scrolled, his thoughts kept drifting. He could smell her light perfume. What that vanilla?