I sat at my desk in the outer office, idly swiveling back and forth in my desk chair. When I saw the last of my coworkers leave I slipped my sore feet out of my high heels and kicked them under the desk. They were sexy as hell but not comfortable. I rested my head back and spun my chair around, looking up at the ceiling; why didn't I bring a book today? As the boss' personal secretary I had to stay as long as he stayed.
The intercom on my phone beeped, "May." Mr. Keane's voice came through. "Come in here a minute." I retrieved my shoes and slipped into his office, shutting the door behind me. My boss was at his own desk, looking slightly disheveled. His broad, muscular form lounged in his chair, an empty glass in one hand. I could smell the whisky. "May," he said. "Come here; come have a drink with me."
I hesitated, thinking of my job, but it was Friday night. And this was my job. I crossed the room and took a seat in the chair opposite him, smoothing my skirt under me. Mr. Keane poured a glass for me and another for himself and slid mine across the shiny surface of his desk. I caught it and took a tiny sip. The liquor was smooth, it must be very expensive. He took a sip of his own drink, watching me out of the corner of his eye.
"Do you know why I hired you, May?" He asked suddenly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk and looking into my eyes. I shook my head, honestly curious. I wasn't exactly the most qualified secretary. "Because I wanted to fuck you," He said bluntly, leaning back in his chair. I choked on my drink a little and set the glass down on the desk. "You were wearing this white blouse," he mused, staring at the ceiling. "I could just see the tops of you breasts. All I wanted to do was rip the buttons off that shirt." He smiled at me, boldly. "So I hired you instead.
I didn't know how to reply. I guess I'd sort of known that was why I was hired, but it's different to hear someone say it out loud. Mr. Keane turned and smiled a sad smile at me. "Do you know what today is? It's my birthday. It's my birthday and I don't want to go home." He chuckled darkly. I sat still, watching him, not sure what I should do. "37!" He said, rising his glass in a mocking toast. "Fucking 37. What have I got to show for it? CEO?" He shook his head, sipped his drink.
I decided this pity party had gone far enough. I picked up my glass and walked around the desk. My boss swiveled in his chair, following me with his eyes. I clinked my glass against his, dangling limply from his hand. "Happy birthday Mr. Keane," I said and downed my drink. He did the same.
Mr. Keane wrapped the palm of one hand around my thigh, just below the hem of my skirt. "Oh May," he groaned. "So beautiful."
"37's not that old," I chided, shaking my head. He looked up at me with sad puppy eyes. "And you're not alone," I purred, placing one hand on his broad chest. "I'm here." I bent down and placed my lips to his. I meant it to be a brief kiss, an only slightly naughty 'happy birthday.' Mr. Keane caught the back of my neck in one strong hand and leaned forward, snaking his tongue into my mouth. I could taste the whisky on him, smell his dark masculine odor. I fought the urge to pull back from him, suddenly not in control anymore.