* * * * *
It took me almost two hours to complete the press release. Each time Dean passed my desk, I shielded my computer screen with my body so he wouldn’t see the several open windows explaining how to write one. He never looked, though. I waited until he was out of his office to place the finished product on his desk.
When he returned around four in the afternoon, I sat up and smiled, but he blew by me on his cell phone without even a nod. It was an hour before my computer pinged, drawing me from my work.
Mr. Brittany
Sheridan file
I had no idea what to make of it. I rifled through Grace’s notes for a clue or hint as to who Sheridan was or to where files might be found. I left the desk. June was in the break room with a small group of girls from around the office.
“Um, June?” I started. “Mr. Brittany sent me a message that just said ‘Sheridan file.’”
“I guess you figured out he’s not a man of many words,” June said.
I smiled. “He seems to speak a lot in commands.”
The girls burst into laughter.
“What?” I asked.
“We have a running joke about what he’d be like in bed.” She lengthened her spine in her chair and lowered her voice. “Touch my cock. Not like that. Lower. No. Higher.”
Everyone giggled, but my throat felt thick.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” June teased me. “What’s wrong?”
“I-I just—he’s like fifty.”
“So?” she asked. “He might be a little rigid but fifty or not, I’d fuck him.”
I furrowed my brow as someone snickered. “What?”
“Have you seen the man?” asked a dark-haired girl. “He’s sexier than most guys I’ve met my own age.”
“He’s definitely handsome, but…” I paused. Hewasattractive. On my way into work, I’d attributed the flutter in my stomach to nerves, but maybe it’d been more than that. “He’s, like, my dad’s friend. Do people his age even have sex anymore?”
The room was silent a moment. Then there was more laughter, even louder this time.
“How old are you?” someone asked.
“Eighteen.”
“Oh, sweetie. You have a lot to learn still.”
I cringed. “But my dad uses Viagra.”
June snickered as she said, “So then obviously your dad stilldoesit.”
“Gross.” I shook my head. “I can’t think about that. Do you know what that Sheridan message meant?”
She nodded and stood to lead me to the filing room. I located the one marked “Sheridan” quickly since they were alphabetized and hurried back to his office. I knocked once and entered. “I have the file, Mr. Brittany,” I said.
“Great,” he muttered without looking up.
I set it down and furtively scanned his desk for the press release.
“Was there something else?” he asked and glanced up. His eyes stopped on my new pencil skirt only long enough for me to notice. It sat high on my waist, hugging every slight curve on the way down. This time it was my size, maybe even a little small. I’d paired it with a fitted, heather grey “V” neck sweater that stopped at the very top of my cleavage.
