“Ewwwwwwwww,” I say, my hands flying up to my mouth, crossing my legs HARD. The devastation that man and his third leg would wreak…
Damon snorts. “Shaggle Rockis a new one,” he remarks as he starts clicking and typing. “Click on any links in emails lately?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head, then stopping. “Wait—yes, but from a trusted source, so…”
“What was the email?” He clicks on my Outlook.
I point when I see it. “That one. It’s from one of the agents I work with, a proposal for a potential referral agreement. They sent a link this time instead of an attachment.”
“Mmhmm,” he says knowingly. “Check out the sender’s email address.”
I frown and look, and then feel like a colossal idiot.Wingham Francis Estate Agentshas becomeWinghom Frances Estate Agents, and it’s dot net instead of dot co dot uk. “Oh, crap on a cracker,” I moan, slapping my forehead.
“Spoofed,” he confirms. “Don’t worry, it’s easy to miss. Let me just…” He starts working on it, and my god, he smells delicious. His neck is mere inches from my face, and I don’t know which aftershave he uses but it smells like a fresh ocean breeze and sandalwood and something else, something fresh and almost minty.
“Should only be five or ten minutes,” he murmurs to me as he types and clicks.
I take a deep breath through my nose, not really realising I’m inching closer to him until he turns his face towards me.
Our eyes meet.
Neither of us blink, we just…lookat each other. Have you ever just looked someone in the eye for longer than a few split seconds? It’s intense. It undeniably means something. My skin prickles and a tingle runs down my spine. And I can feel myself getting wet between my legs.
In my teeny, tiny vagina.
I’d say that thought is like a bucket of cold water over me, forcing me back to reality. But, given the context, it’s more like a teacup in a doll’s house.
He seems to come to his senses at the same time as I do. His eyes widen and he looks away, clearing his throat and looking back at the screen.
I need an excuse to get the hell out of Dodge for a few moments.
“I-I’ll make some coffee, you want some?”
“I’m good, thanks,” he says quietly without looking at me again.
I dash off to the kitchen, wondering if splashing cold water on my face will draw too many curious stares.
Damon
I’ve been told these company summer barbecues are mandatory, even if they are on weekend evenings, if you want upper management to think you’re serious about working here. I normally keep to myself and don’t often attend these sorts of things, but I haven’t been here long, and it’s politic at this stage to make an appearance.
They’ve hired a local country club, and the burgers and sausages are sizzling audibly on the grill as people mill around. There’s a DJ playing pop music, and a dance floor on the patio demarcated in the corners with small potted trees draped with fairy lights.
It’s already eight pm, so I’m a bit late. There was a problem with the server that needed to be fixed, so the gathering is in full swing by the time I arrive. As though drawn by magnets, my eyes find Faith in the throng almost immediately. It’s Saturday evening, so instead of her usual office wear, she’s in a flowy purple dress with glittery silver biker boots. Most of the other managers and planners are grouped together, but Faith has broken away and is chatting animatedly with the receptionists and the assistants. The warmth radiates from her, and she’s cracking up laughing about something with Ken and Rachel from Accounts.
She also looks buzzed. Flushed and giggly and a little louder than normal. It makes me smile to myself. I look over at the refreshments table, and everyone certainly has made inroads into the booze.
I pour myself a beer and end up chatting to the Chief Operations Officer, Helen, for a while about possibly switching to a new case management system. Just as Helen breaks away to talk to Marta, my phone rings.Shit, I thought I turned it on to silent…I check, and it’s only my brother, probably after free IT advice.
“No way,” I hear Faith exclaim. When I turn around, she’s marching over to me, open mouthed with a smile sneaking around the corners of her lips. “Your ringtone!”
I hit decline on my phone. I can call Jeffrey back later. “Uh…yeah?” I say, like a smooth motherfucker.
“Was thatWonderboy? Because I think that WASWonderboy!” Her eyes are shining and her cheeks are flushed and she’sso beautiful…
“Uhh…”Stop saying ‘uhh’, numbnuts!“Yeah, yeah it was.” Just the first verse, not the chorus. That would be a little arrogant. I just like the song.
She grins and lifts her hands up in the air, spilling some of her beer. “Wooooonderbooooooy,” she sings, and clearly she’s tipsier than I thought. She holds her hand out towards me. “Gimme your phone.”
