Sunday mornings at the office are my sanctuary. Nobody comes in on Sunday, and I'm totally alone. Granted, I could be working alone from my apartment, but I do my best work in this space I've carved for myself. Something about the view combined with the desk. It opens my thoughts, lets me unpack the depositions, find the key to winning my clients the funds they deserve.
I spent the weekend helping my grandmother around the house. Manual labor helps me work through my frustrations even more than sex. I brushed aside Gran's remarks that she pays people to mow her lawn and change the light bulbs. I remembered my days in high school, mowing lawns around our neighborhood for extra cash toward Ty's hockey fees. Friday night I'd written an email to Alice, apologizing for the way I'd spoken to her and asking her to please make me aware of any future unorthodox arrangements for the office. I thought I'd done a pretty good job, making sure to praise her work so far and reminding her that I valued her contributions to my staff. She really is remarkable. She's done so much in the short time she's been with Stag Law.
Now, after an entire week of distracted work, I feel like I can prepare to crush the coming week. Sundays are a constant promise of a fresh start. A new week. A new chance to seize order. Or something like that. I went for a six-mile run this morning and now I feel really good as I spread out my work along the smooth grain of my desk.
I look at my watch and see I have a few hours of blissful peace before I need to head over to the arena to meet Donna and the rest of the staff in the luxury suite. I dive into the Hawkins file--a contract renegotiation for one of my NFL players--and prepare the entire brief myself. I make a note to take Dawson off this case. It feels good to get my hands dirty with this one. These days, I generally tried to pass off the cut-and-dry cases to my junior associates, but I feel like getting my hands dirty with this one. It might help me regain focus.
I work until I realize I feel ravenous. I forgot to eat after my run. Shit. I wonder if Alice left anything around the break room or if she got rid of all the uneaten food for the weekend. As I walk toward the construction zone, I hear a sound that halts me in my tracks.
Alice Peterson is here.
I can hear her singing to herself again. Her voice is clear and strong as she belts out an old Madonna song. I stop in the entrance to the break room, peering around the construction plastic. The contractors had demo-ed the wall and the hall appears transformed just by adding more natural light. There, behind a gleaming stainless steel counter, is Alice. Her wild curls are totally free, splayed around her head like springs. Gone are the shapeless chef whites and clogs she normally wears to work.
Instead, Alice wears black running tights that end just below her knee. Her perfect, round ass is accentuated by the blue light of the open refrigerator as she bends at the waist, taking notes on the contents. I see the white cords of her headphones contrasted against the sheer material of a baggy tank top, the arm holes of which hang open nearly to her trim waist. I suck in my breath at the sight of Alice's sports bra, realizing that the black spandex material is all that keeps Alice's breasts from spilling into my sight. Her pale skin appears nearly white in contrast to the dark material. I long to slide my fingers along the lines of her tiny body, to feel her curves pressed against me.
The room feels devoid of oxygen as I struggle to breathe. She is magnificent. She is every fantasy I've ever had and more and it takes all that I have not to sprint across the room and plunge my cock into her depths. Jesus, she's fucking gorgeous, I think. I watch her as she takes inventory. She spins, singing, taking notes, checking everything. She's preparing to crush the week ahead, too. God, she's somehow able to organize everything and manage a thousand little details but still keep this lighthearted attitude about her. I smile as I watch her examine new appliances. This is her realm and, given complete control over it, she has pulled it into order. I like this very, very much.
I'm not sure how long I watch her from the doorway, but suddenly, she stops mid-song and sees me. Alice screams, dropping her clipboard with a clatter. She knocks over a stack of takeout cartons in her haste to pick it up. I dash across the room to help her as her hair tangles with the cord of her headphones.
"I'm so sorry, sir," she mutters. "I didn't realize anyone else was here. Donna gave me a key." At the sound of her mouth calling me "sir," my cock springs to life in my jeans. Holy fuck I think. Instead of saying anything, I reach around Alice to gather the food containers. Brushing against her, I feel the smooth skin of her arm begging to be stroked.
I shake my head. She smells lightly of sweat, but also like the earth and sunshine. I smell a thousand different herbs and spices wafting from her and I want so badly to taste her, to dip my tongue into her mouth and sample the flavor of Alice Peterson. "You didn't do anything wrong," I say, standing and putting the containers back on the counter. "I shouldn't have stood spying in the doorway."
She bites her bottom lip and looks away. She finally succeeds at untangling the headphones from her hair and she sets her phone on the counter with her rescued clipboard. I cough uncomfortably and fiddle with the stack of containers, straightening them. "I hope you received my email of apology, Alice."
She snorts, and I'm taken aback. Was it not a good enough apology? I try to recall what exactly I'd said to her when I saw her children here in the break room. "Yes, well, I did mean it. I'm truly sorry for the way I spoke to you." I cough again as she nods and doesn't meet my eye.
"Ok, well, I think everything here is set, so I'll see you Monday, Mr. Stag." She grabs her shoulder bag and moves to walk past me. I'm not ready to be away from her just yet. Panicked, I reach for her.
"Wait," I say, trying to keep my voice calm. "Who is with your children today?"
"My children?" She raises an eyebrow and then begins to laugh. I could listen to the sound of her laughter for hours, even if it's at my expense. "You know those are my sister's kids, right? Well, Donna knows that. Because I cleared it with her before I brought them in." She pauses and laughs a bit more. "Woo, that's funny. My children. I'll have to tell Amy."
"Your sister's children." I've behaved deplorably. Jumped to conclusions. Badgered the witness. What the fuck is happening to me? I rake my hands through my hair and along my jaw. "Look, Alice, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I want to tell you how impressed I am with what you've done here so far." I gesture around and begin to explain how she's altered the atmosphere at work in just one week. "You're very driven and you're good at what you do," I finish. "We need you here."
She laughs again. "Did you think I was going to quit just because you had a temper tantrum?" She puts her hands on her hips and her violet eyes darken. She's not nervous around me--quite the contrary. "Did you upset me on Friday? Yes. Was I pissed off? Definitely. But this is a good job and I'd be a fool to walk away just because my boss is a blow hard." She claps a hand over her mouth. "Shit. I didn't mean to say that to you." Her pale skin flames red, from her chest to the tips of her ears, which poke out from among the nest of curls.
"Tell me how you really feel, Alice," I say, smiling. People don't usually speak frankly to me, outside of my family. I'm used to people measuring their words, either because I intimidate them or because they're speaking to me very carefully in a courtroom. "Maybe we are even now?" I suggest, leaning closer to her and boxing her in against the steel counter.
I'm close enough now that I could lean in and kiss her. I could dip my head in toward her plump lips. I'm barely controlling my urge to do just that when she shakes her head. "Nope. Not even. Your tantrum was in front of my nephews, and I had to explain to them why I work with an angry man who yells."
I'm overcome by this woman. I lean in. She’s not taken, which means she can still be mine. I know I shouldn't kiss her and I don't think I'm going to. My mouth is an inch from her ear, so I whisper, "I'm sorry I yelled, Alice. I find it very hard to be rational when I'm near you."
I see her eyes scan my body. She meets my gaze and I know she is attracted to me, too. I see her pupils dilate and the pink tip of her tongue licks her teeth before she speaks. "Mr. Stag," she says, "I…" She stares into my eyes and I can feel my chest rising with each breath. I watch her chest rise and fall as she stands inches away from me. I know this is wrong; she's my employee, but she's also the most amazing woman I've ever met. Not only is she fucking gorgeous, but she's a breath of fresh air in this place, and I didn't even realize I was choking until she got here. I start to lean closer. I'm so close to kissing her now, I can feel her warm breath on my face. And then my stomach rumbles, audibly. The mood shifts instantly, the tension melting away as Alice smiles at me.
"You're hungry! Awesome. Let me get you something."