I was sat in the break-room the first time I saw him. It amazes me that I can still remember the moment he entered the room so clearly; it's probably anger that keeps it so fresh in my mind, a feeling of hate towards him combined with the knowledge that I can never go back. I dream of returning to that moment and telling myself not to trust him, of the difficulty he created in his stead.
It was an unexceptional first meeting, even despite what I know now. I look for that moment when I should have realised the depths of trouble he'd cause, but have to concede that he hid it well, at first. Celia and I were on lunch: I can picture us both, my mouth full of food, my eyes blinking in disbelief behind my cat-eye glasses as Celia played with her mousey hair and told me about the men she was pursuing.
Our manager, Edith, pushed the door open and led a man into the room.
"Maria, Celia," she motioned at us, "this is William. He'll be taking over the role in shipping." He already had a laminated name-badge around his neck bearing a photograph of his smiling face. It obscured the patterned tie beneath.
Celia had finished her lunch, and she stood up to greet him. I, on the other hand, was still halfway through my sandwich and so I smiled through a mouthful of chicken salad, remaining firmly in my seat. He smiled warmly back with false kindness. As I say, he was hiding his true nature well, and even looked friendly that day with bright blue eyes and even grin. Edith led him out for the rest of his orientation, and Celia turned to me.
"He looks nice," she commented, and I had to agree, "oh, you've got some mayonnaise on your lip." I hurried to wipe it off, and I still remember the pang of embarrassment that the new guy's first memory of me would be tarnished.
In my 22 years I'd never spend much time around boys. While at school, my mother would insist that a boy meet them before I could even kiss him, and that was just as well. On the occasions that they came around she'd immediately known if he was only interested in selfish lust, which unfortunately for me was all of them. I'd gotten this far in life without ever receiving a kiss, but was still certain that soon I'd find a man who'd be willing to treat me and my body with respect.
I returned to work, where the bulk of my day was spent on organising orders and payments of office-supply packages. I'd been with Farborough City Supplier for 4 years, joining straight out of school. What began mainly as unglamorous data-entry work had evolved into equally unglamorous invoicing and order processing.
It was a fine living, and I was thankful for it. I had enough to pay rent on time every month for my little apartment, I could afford a decent wardrobe of clothes off the sales racks, and it meant that I could see my best friend Celia every day. My life, and everything in it, was near perfect before William stepped into it.
A few days had gone by since he turned up, and interaction had been scarce, limited only to brief moments in the break room or if I swooped by to drop something on his desk. My heart would flutter when he'd throw me a smile. Celia would say he was cute and I'd agree, and mean it. The difficulty was my track record with 'cute' boys. I knew what was in a man's heart, and hoped earnestly that I'd meet an exception soon.
William was mostly keeping to himself, but it didn't last. A memo came into my email inbox from Edith in the mid-morning that seemed innocuous: I was to let William know when I had a moment to walk him through a few things. It felt nice to be trusted with training him, but I still burned with embarrassment when I remembered our first meeting. I would need to make sure I looked alright this time.
The office building was anything but modern, with thin wooden walls separating the different departments. The upshot of this was that I had my own little area, so I could get on with my work in peace without anybody distracting me, and nobody was able to see when I did things like maintaining my makeup or checking my phone. I pulled out a pocket mirror and surveyed my appearance, and found that I didn't have any obvious flaws; my face was clean, my long, dark hair was in a high ponytail and my blouse and skirt were ironed, clean and presentable. It was only when I'd confirmed all this that I sent a memo to William, asking if he wanted to come to my desk for training.
He turned up not a minute later, and poked his head past the door.
"Hi Maria, can we get started now?" He asked. I'm loathe to think that I was so ready to invite him in.
I told him to come inside and grab a seat, and loaded up the files we needed to look at. I showed him where I logged incoming orders, how I tracked payment, and a few other important details that were relevant to shipping. Throughout, he was silent, attentively watching as I showed him the ropes.
Or so I thought.
I had loaded up a final spreadsheet to show him when I glanced to my side. William was resting his chin on his hand with his wrist propped up on my desk. From his posture I almost worried I was boring him, but then just for a heartbeat I was sure that I saw his eyes peer at me, or more specifically, at my thighs.
I felt an mixture of feelings: predominantly the shock of being leered at, and the hope that I had misread the situation. There was nothing grippingly interesting about my thighs that day- I was wearing unpatterned dark tights, only slightly translucent. I could have delivered the lesson in my sleep, so I managed to keep talking without a break, but whenever I glanced towards him, there were those eyes, his piercing blue eyes. I never caught him in the act, but just as I thought he might be looking I stopped the lesson, eager to catch him out.
"So that's us done." I turned my head towards him and noticed his eyes took a split-second to look back. Not long, but enough to signal he'd been looking elsewhere. "Any questions?"
"I don't think so. I'll try it all out and come to you if I have anything I need help with." You'd have thought he'd not had a wicked thought in his life, the way he looked at me, smiling like the poster-boy for innocence.
