It was a necessary evil of the job. Our annual audit. I know this. And no matter how hard I worked during the year to keep my i's dotted and my t's crossed, by June it inevitably takes over and by December the mounds of paperwork have all but swallowed me whole. Come January, I pray to God to just let me get through this one and next year will be different. Better. Stress-free. I swear to Him as much as I do to myself.
The bad part was, I always felt the stress and I wasn't even the almighty one responsible for it all. Sure, I had accountability for my areas, but in the big picture, I was simply a lowly accounting clerk. At least, had I worked for a larger company that's what I would be. However, working for a small business and being one of three people in the accounting department, my role was rather large and my days were filled with all aspects of accounts payable processing, various general ledger management and bank reconciliations. Outside of work, my pathetic life did not allow for much as my thoughts constantly lingered back to work, organizing the next day's tasks in my mind. I enjoyed my work and, to my detriment, was consumed with it most of the time. Not that it was mind-boggling, earth-shattering work by any means, but I did like the practicality and relative smoothness of the whole accounting process. Everything had its place. And, when I got around to it, I tried to bring the same organization into my personal life, however, I was constantly too practical about things and often found it hard to just let go and let my hair down.
The most annoying part of the audit, by far, was the auditors themselves. A crew of two or three people made up of one lead auditor, generally a more seasoned member of the firm, and he or she would have one or two staff accountants in tow. The staff accountants were often just (I'm saying that the ink was not even dry on their diplomas) out of college. Typically, they were always more concerned with studying for their upcoming CPA (Certified Public Accountant) exams than the task at hand. And they were certain to try to bring communication 'down to my level' because, not being a part of some hot-shot accounting firm and all, they wanted to make sure I could comprehend their big requests. In their minds, I truly was nothing more than a lowly accounting clerk and their arrogance was nauseating. The first year, maybe two, I actually let these people belittle me on some level. Now in my fourth year with this company, aside from the mounds of prep work, their presence in our office was nothing more than a blip on my busy radar.
Rarely, thankfully, did the same auditor come back more than once. After they had passed their exams and completed their required sentence at the firm, the generally moved on to bigger and better things – even if it was within the same firm. They were no longer required to make the horrendous journeys to insignificant little companies like the one I worked for. Rumor had it that this year thing would be different. Brad, a staff accountant from the previous year, was returning as the lead auditor this year. This was fine by me. He was personable and we had worked well together the year before. He seemed to be the one exception to my distaste of auditors. Of course, the fact that he was extremely attractive might have had a little bit to do with it.
My boss was indisposed (i.e. in the ladies' room) when Brad arrived, so the receptionist paged me out to the lobby to meet him. I saw him through the glass doors before he saw me and those brief seconds allowed me to absorb him, note the changes in him in the last year and return to being my calm and collected self before he spotted me. The interim seconds updated me on the following: he was not only more attractive than I remembered, but he was exuding this overwhelming sexuality that I had not remembered from last year. Perhaps it had been too long. Perhaps I was just extraordinarily lonely and horny. In any case, had there not been a half dozen people in the lobby, I surely would have, uncharacteristically, jumped him right there. As I gave him a visual once-over, electrical pulses raced through my vagina. Standing about six three, he was dressed sharply in a dark blue suit, a light blue shirt with maroon pinstripes underneath and a maroon tie. His very short, thick, light brown hair looked so soft I just wanted to reach up and run my fingers through it. Brad had the clearest blue eyes I have every seen in my life that were framed by these tiny gold wire-rim glasses. I can't explain it, but – when I allow myself to look – I am always attracted to men in wire-rims. Aside from the glasses, he is the complete physical opposite of the men that I am usually attracted to. Before Brad, dark eyes – with or without the wire-rims – were my first attraction to any man. Dark hair closely followed that. And, due to the fact that I am only five-five myself, a man pushing the six-foot mark rarely caught my glance. Being raised in the 'country-fied' suburbs of the big city, I was generally drawn to men on the more rustic side. The ironic combination - in my mind, as I have yet to see it in real life – of a dark eyed businessman by day in a flannel shirt and jeans by night, sitting next to me on a couch in a cabin in the mountains, with his wire-rims on while he reads to me in front of a roaring fire would have to be my idea of a perfect man.
As soon as Brad saw me, I caught him giving me the same once-over that I had given him. Knowing that he was in a new office practically every week, I held onto a slim hope that he would remember me at all. However recognition, then a smile of approval, swept over his face. I had changed somewhat since the previous year. Never one to be considered skinny even now, I had lost about twenty pounds and had been working out regularly and I found confidence in the fact that I knew it showed. I was dressed in a black suit with red pinstripes and red blouse underneath. The skirt fell just about to my knees and had small slits on either side, which allowed me to show off a bit of my newly toned thighs. The blouse, while still deemed professional, had a daringly low v-neck and I was sure that, from the right angle, one would be able to see everything that Victoria's Secret was pushing up beneath it. Remembering his towering height, I had slipped into my higher black pumps that morning which added a few inches, anyway. Of course, looking at him, I wish I had remembered a spare set of panties, also. My shoulder length hair was pulled back from my face, my attempt at showing off the high cheekbones that the women in my family were blessed with that had, until recently, been camouflaged by my baby cheeks. At twenty-two, my still youthful looks were often a curse when it came to men ("So, what high school do you go to?"). I was fortunate that my natural pigment and perfectly manicured eyebrows left little need for make-up to accentuate my features, particularly my dark eyes that I have always been very happy with. I have never had the desire to be the blue-eyed blonde – no offense to women of that nature, my best friend even sports such a look, albeit unnaturally.
(A brief note to the mathematicians in the audience. I realize that we graduate from high school around our eighteenth year, and I have mentioned being at this company for four years, maintaining a decent job position and only being twenty-two. This was entirely possible as having taken numerous business classes in high school, being a quick study and a hard worker, I was able to rapidly and successfully capitalize on my entry-level secretarial position with this company.)
I walked through the door and into Brad's outstretched arm- err, hand. I couldn't be sure, but for a brief moment I thought that another part of him was outstretched as well. Most likely, that part was just wishful thinking.
"Jenn, how in the world have you been?" he asked, while shaking my hand for an extended period of time. We stood there staring oddly into each other's eyes. Meanwhile, the electricity entering my body from where our hands met coursed through me and got the mysterious feeling of being weak in the knees. Somehow, we mutually realized that there were other people in the room. We - I believe reluctantly on both of our parts - pulled away from each other. Brad proceeded to introduce me to his crew, a couple of newbies to the firm who could care less who I was, they just wanted to get started, get finished and get out.
The rest of the week was standard operating procedure, really. Long hours and long days, consisting of, unfortunately, my working with the newbies who were constantly at my office for one inane reason or another. Aside from the group lunch on the first day, which was my boss's idea of a bonding hour to kick off our audit, I rarely saw Brad during the week. Well, that was when I wasn't finding a million and one reasons to use the copier outside of the conference room where he and his crew were stationed so that I could salivate over the fact that I was that close to him. I was definitely a stalker-in-the-making.
On the last day, we had a brief meeting to recap the work that had been done and to advise us what was left to do. It was determined that Brad would stay an extra day to cover some final items with Pat, my boss. His followers would fly out that night and they obviously couldn't be happier. Pat advised me that I could take Friday off as a reward for my hard work over the past several weeks, especially since Brad didn't need me for anything. Ouch. That's exactly how she said it and that's just what I didn't want to hear right now. Pat and I had briefly discussed the possibility the previous week and while I was thankful that she kept her word for a change, now that the time was here I could think of a thousand reasons to stay and much more of my regular work to be done. Yeah, like I was kidding anyone. There was one – and only one – reason that I did not want to take Friday off.
At the end of the day, I reluctantly stopped by the conference room to say good-bye to Brad. Apparently, his followers could not get to the airport fast enough and had already cleared out. No loss there. Actually, it was fortunate for me as I now had Brad to myself in these final moments for the first time all week. Not that I had the nerve to do anything. It was just that if I drooled or stuttered in these final moments, he and I would be the only ones to catch this act and since I most likely would not see him again, it would just be between the two of us. Of course, all I could think about as I stood in the doorway, watching him sans jacket and tie with his sleeves rolled up revealing his muscular forearms as he hunched over his work, was that I wished there was a whole lot less between us. I also began to hope that he would not be able to detect my aroused scent, which was blatantly obvious to me, as I approached him. I lightly placed my hand on his shoulder, then quickly pulled away. Partly because of that electric shock that flowed again when we touched. Partly because he jumped back, too. Was it possibly he felt the same thing?
"I'm sorry to interrupt you, Brad," I began to ramble. "I know you are really busy and you are trying to get finished up so that, like your follo - err, co-workers – you can get the hell out of town. I don't want to keep you, I just wanted to say that it was nice seeing you again and working with you, albeit briefly, and…"
"Have you been working out, Jenn?" he interrupted, capturing my eyes in the sparkly oceans of his own.
"Um, excuse me?" I asked, oddly, in an embarrassed sort of way.
"Damn, I'm sorry, Jenn. I didn't mean to offend you. Let me make that clear before you lodge some kind of sexual harassment suit against me. It's just that, well, you are looking really great and I was wondering if you had been visiting the gym…"
"Yes." It was my turn to interrupt. Of course, my response was saying yes to many things, particularly what I hoped he was getting at.
"Great! Can you tell me where it is? I have been eating badly this week and being rather lazy in general and I was hoping you could point me in the right direction so I could swing by there after I stop at the hotel to get changed."
Ouch, part two. That was so not what I had hoped he was getting at.
"Well, yea," I stammered. "It's right across town…" I bent over to grab a piece of paper to write, with hand shaking wildly, the directions down for him because I didn't want to vocalize my disappointment. As I reached for the pen, I caught his eyes momentarily glued to my cleavage. My nipples hardened like light bulbs popping on as I began to brainstorm.
"Actually," I began, as my mind rapidly forming a plan and I stayed bent over as not to interrupt his view, " I was heading over there tonight anyway. How about I swing by the hotel and pick you up and come along?" I wasn't, really. I was supposed to be having dinner with Stephanie (the blue-eyed, blonde) but I would call her from my cell phone to cancel. I was certain she would understand.
