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“Good morning, Mary.”
“Good nothing! That noise is unbearable.” The poor woman covers her ears with her hands. “There is too much remodeling! That simple office will look like Buckingham Palace itself.”
I walk into my office leaving Mary grumbling at her desk. When I agreed to the crazy request of Bruce, I never thought that my tranquility would vanish between hammering and peeling paint.
They take only a few days of construction but the noise could be described as many things less than comfortable. Please! It is assumed that with a simple coat of paint and some new furniture it would be a decent office, but surely the old curmudgeon wants something much more in line with his level of treasure hunting. He’s a cocky, ostentatious man.
In Google there isn’t a lot of information, they say he prefers to keep his identity secret. What a bunch of bull! Who does he think he is, Indiana Jones? Objectivity is not my strength in cases like this but I simply can’t stand these people. They use our history and our treasures as a mere commercial merchandise.
The knowledge of archeology shows us where we come from so we can see where we are going. It is good to know our origins; the good and the bad, the successes and misfortunes, our happiness and feelings. Our past is part of an evolutionary DNA that identifies us as human beings, and characters like this manage to leave our efforts as something a little more interesting than that of a simple dust and bone collector.
Bruce says that Blackman will offer Stonebridge desperately needed income and I hope that in that regard he is right, otherwise I'll take care of it myself by kicking him in the ass and making him disappear from my museum.
I put the laptop on my desk distracted by my own anger. I hope that Bruce is not wrong and this is not one of the many projects that sink into failure.
Humanity is less and less interested in art. The price of visiting Stonebridge costs the same money as the last CD of the great successes of the Busty Pumps Volume II, however they are number one on MTV and I, an experimental archaeologist, number one in my field and with years of experience, I find myself having to listen to hammer blows from an office that will shelter the most unpleasant companion that exists, and whose history of coldness and bad character is of international fame. Self-esteem pours smoke through the ears.
For the first time I have to admit that Mary is right. The situation is unbearable but as the museum’s director, I am supposed to demonstrate by example.
“Soon it’ll pass,” I lie brazenly. “You don’t have to worry. A little paint, some new furniture and they’ll be finished. This week will be the last.”
“What a pity...” I open my eyes surprised. Not even her mother understands her!
“Sorry?”
Mary smiles as she closes the door. What drama?
“Anne... You’re always in limbo.” And there goes another one of her fumbling jabs. One day I’ll get fed up and we’ll both be in the newspapers.
“Can I know what’s so interesting?”
“You’ll see,” she approaches my chair, “at around five in the afternoon, every day, since the work began, a handsome and super interesting man arrives at the office. He enters, observes the new walls with great detail and sits in the only chair that exists, studies some papers and does some heavy concentrating.”
“He has been doing the same every day. While working on whatever he’s doing, he stares at me for a long time, totally enraptured. I don’t want to seem presumptuous but you already understand.”
“I’m presumptuous?” I say with irony but she ignores me and continues her speech.
“It's me who he looks at. Now you understand me. I'm more his type than you. I can’t lie to you; he doesn’t take his eyes off me. I'm sure it's me and not you, and I'm not saying it to offend you, but I fit more into his profile.”
His profile? I’m screwed. Here we are again with Mary’s blessed speech with her exuberant youth of twenty and some, in front of the poor widow, alone and sad with thirty something. Why don’t I kick her out to the curb? Yes, I know simply because I'm not like that.
“I'm happy for you, Mary. I hope that man will value you for something more than a romp in the hay.” Take that one. I'm good but I'm not an idiot.
Mary combed her long platinum blonde hair, ignoring my taunts. It was clear that the part of getting a good romp was the only interesting thing for her.
“Do you think it will be Blackman?”
I open my eyes, stupefied, and then I let out a laugh that resonated throughout the office. My god, she’s so expert in some subjects and so naive in others.
“It's not Blackman. A treasure hunter like him would never bother to see the works of an office. He won’t arrive in the city until next week, and although I don’t know him and I don’t even know his first name, I'm sure he's a man with gray hair and a lot less interesting than you tell me. That man must be a construction employee or at best the interior decorator.”
“You are right...”
It seems that the idea of having a painter as a fan is not very to her liking. Let's say it's a lot less glamorous.
“Mary, I have to work.” Let's see if she gets the hint and does the same. “Do you think it's okay to bring me a coffee with milk and forget about handsome men and bystanders?”
“Be quiet! Look towards the door. He is entering! He is the...”
“Okay, but then you go straight to your desk.”
I look bored and I almost fall out of my chair. Fuck! Shit! Handsome is not a sufficient description for someone like that; interesting, seductive, attractive, fascinating, magical, tempting, if that is an accurate description. He is terribly manly, unbearably sexy and damn me to hell because it's the same bad humored Adonis of last night. Shit! And a thousand times my shitty luck that I have.
He walks slowly, confidently, self-assured. All of him shows complete control wherever he treads. He wore black jeans, a black cotton shirt and branded sports shoes. It’s the same as last night but with a different air. Handsome, irresistible and terribly seductive.
I close my mouth before being exposed.
“And is he or isn’t he handsome?” Mary asked smiling.
I was so absorbed watching him through the glass of my office that I wasn’t able to answer. He seemed to hear my mental call because suddenly he turned to us and then I could appreciate him in his entire splendor. The same Arctic blue eyes that hypnotized me the night before: deep, intense and intriguing.
Our eyes met but he didn’t blink. Could it be that he doesn’t remember me? The idea of being just one of many saddens me. Self-esteem disappointed.
I duck my head with shyness and a touch of grief. What did I think would happen, that he would come to my office, open the door, lift me up and kiss me like Clark Gable to his beloved Scarlet? One of these days I will have to mature.
I shake my head, denying my nonsense, while Mary, oblivious to my thoughts, goes to her desk, moving her rounded hips intensely. The young woman tries to capture the attention of the man who, at that moment, turns around and enters the office without paying attention to either of us. Self-esteem, with a broken heart.
I prefer to concentrate on my work, which is quite a bit. But God! He can’t be real. Why does everything happen to me? Of hundreds of museums on the planet, did I have to come to work right at this one? I was just looking for new adventures, a drink and a little more... It's fine, just a lot more, but I swear that nothing that unusual. Come on, the previous night was needed but after meeting him, my body burns and not just because the heater is on. I'm pathetic and unfortunate! And he terribly attractive. He's an Apollo, a luscious bonbon ready to eat and he would be perfect for a woman as hungry as I am, if not for that little detail, when he kissed me on the forehead and left.
No Anne... Don’t raise your head, don’t do it. Keep watching your monitor. If I look up I can spy through the glass that I have right in front of me but I'm not going to do it, because I should not, because I'm not a hustler and because I'm not a stalker. I’m sure he's tired of women chasing him. I don’t see. I don’t look... I don’t... I don’t... I never... Just a little... A look and no more.
Shit! He has caught me.
The God of Olympus is also looking towards my office, but unlike me, he smiles with his eyes. His eyes are less cold; dare I say that they have a touch of fun? Shit! He's laughing at me, just what I needed. In repertoire of my broad qualities, now I must add, that of a sassy slug.
Concentrate woman! You are the director of Stonebridge, a respectable archaeologist and a woman with crazy desires for a good vis a vis with the companion in front. Self-esteem, fanning with both hands.
I smile at my heated thoughts. I focus on the computer screen and I remove the smirk on my lips that since I met him hasn’t erased from my face. He can’t be more handsome and I can’t be more desperate. I put the earphones in my ears, I open Word and I forget burning sexual postures. He's great, he fascinates me, but last night he made it clear that I didn’t fall within his ideal of feminine beauty.
My computer engulfs me and I work without looking straight ahead. I look at the clock and perfect! Two hours of work and without looking up once. Good for me! After the sacrifice I deserve to get a little bit of joy with my sight, right? Of course, yes. I look at my neighbor that in this life I met only two days ago.
I raise my eyes excited but my joy evaporates instantly. Not here. He’s gone. A shame for today the good views are over. The building is in shadow and Mary is gone. I worked so concentrated that I didn’t realize how time ran. I had better send the report and go straight to my house.
The door sounds with a couple of knocks and half a body pokes through the frame.
“Anne Foster, may I?”
Oh mother, like Clark Gable. Yes, I'm your Scarlet... Throw me on the desk.
He enters without waiting for a response. Of course, just like a perfect bad boy.
“Mary is not...” Why did I say that? I'm a damn idiot!
“I don’t know who Mary is.” He pleasantly said but his lips didn’t reflect any smile.
“Mary is my secretary. I thought you were looking for her.”
He enters and closes the door. Mother, what do I do? Do I remain seated? Do I get up? Do I miss him? Do I throw myself on him? Do I kiss him? Do I rip off his clothes? I breathe Inhale Exhale... That's it. Inhale Exhale... Fuck! He’s gorgeous.
“I don’t want her.”
“Oh no?” My voice sounds like a squeak?
What a painter! Tomorrow I’ll ask for a budget to redecorate my apartment. Three colors and a triple layer to have him delay a few more days.
“If you need information about the decoration in the office I can’t help you. Mr. Blackman hasn’t gotten on board and with the bad mood he has, I prefer not to get involved. I have too many problems of my own that I don’t need to add new ones.”
I play dumb and ignore the fact that we know each other from the Temple of the Passions. If he doesn’t remind me, I won’t either.
“Bad character?”
“Horrible. He's a cantankerous old man, cold and insensitive. The only thing that matters is money. The relics are simply a means to satiate his cravings for power and fame, a despicable human being.”
More serious than normal or am I assuming that? Is he a relative? I don’t think so, that old man is so stuck up that he wouldn’t have his nephew painting walls.
The man-made God sits in front of me without asking permission. Wasn’t he leaving? I’m getting nervous. His magnetism is terribly powerful and he has the power to make my knees tremble, too.
“You don’t know him?”
“I'm not interested in knowing him. He's the kind of man I wouldn’t exchange a greeting with.”
Can I know why you're not leaving? If you’re in front of me, I can’t stop thinking about scattered sheets, clothes on the floor and you grinding, in the top ten position of the Kama Sutra, according to womeninpower.com.
“Will you work with him.” Who were we talking about? Yes, old Blackman.
“Just what’s necessary.”
“Is he an archaeologist like you?”
“No, but that's not important.” And now I have to explain my reasons to a stranger who does not remember that last night he placed himself on my ass. In what mess I’ve gotten into. “That man and I just don’t fit. One more rich guy and I will never be compatible... Anyway, I don’t want to bore you, as I said, Mary isn’t here but you can see her tomorrow.”
“And as I told you, I'm not here for her.”
And there he goes again, and I'm blushing. Wait, he’s calm, he's quiet. He;s observing me with patience and damn, he dominates the conversation, the environment and me.
“You have to have dinner. I’ll take you where ever you want.”
What? I'm missing something. He's handsome but a little bossy, isn’t he? I don’t know you, you don’t remember me, I don’t know your name, and you order me to have dinner? Excuse me! As seductive, attractive and with those delicious eyes that you have, I don’t think I’ll fall at your feet. Umm handsome, that strategy might be worth to others but not for me. I’m not the one from the past; I’m a woman with control of her instincts and a lot of honor.
“You're right. It is late for which I’m leaving to my house in my car.”
I get up and put my laptop in my briefcase but he doesn’t move from his chair. Do you expect me to apologize? Well, stay there and continue siting there until tomorrow.
“I'm leaving, is there anything else you need?” Let's see if he gets the hint.
He gets up slowly as if time is not with him. Damn it but even his movements are sensual.
“Reed,” he said when he stretched out his hand. “In case you don’t remember.”
God! He remembers. Now I don’t know what’s worse, if I pretend to be two strangers or remember that the Lord of Olympus, rubbed, caressed me and then left me with a kiss on the forehead. On my forehead!
I accept his hand without saying a word, but when he held my hand in his, he held it tight, and pulled me, leaving me completely stuck to his chest. His hard body gives me warmth that envelops me and melts me. I breathe agitated but I'm not the only one. He does too.
“Two kisses preferably,” he answers with a hoarse voice.
“If you say so...” His lips barely touch my skin but my body trembles electrified. What a wonderful feeling and so different this is something so new that it can’t be real.
“Talk tomorrow.” He affirmed and left.
Anne returns to earth! Inhale... Exhale... Inhale... Exhale...
Talk tomorrow? What did he mean? Will he come to the office tomorrow? Does he want to see me tomorrow? Is it a simple phrase? What will I wear?
I think I should run home, prepare a bath with cold water and lower my body temperature by a few degrees.
I wait a few minutes quietly in my office because if I find him in the elevator I won’t be responsible for my actions, I'm sure I assure myself and whatever God wants will be. I think first I would tear off his clothes, then kiss him with soft bites, then place him in the position of the visitor, Kama Sutra top ten womeninpower.com and then he... He’ll denounce me as a stalker. Anne wake up!
I laugh again about my great inner erotic world and pick up my briefcase.
My watch says that enough time has passed to flee. It's time to go home, prepare that bathtub and forget about erotic dreams in elevators. I close the office while I walk amused.
I have not laughed at myself for so long that I can’t even remember how to. Let's say that without any kind of fun lately, I'm afraid that I'll have to change that little mishap or I'll get cobwebs. I smile and make my way home, that solitary refuge where the last man who entered was Andrew the plumber, the one who when he bent down to reinforce the pipes, you could see the hairy slit in his ass. How awful! There are men to whom it is better not to remember them.
