“My initial reaction to you had nothing to do with the fact that you were a woman,” he ends up saying. “Admittedly, I didn’t foresee you would be one, but it’s not what caused my distrust. I was expecting someone in their late thirties, maybe early forties. I designed the test myself, and I was stumped when I saw your results. Ninety percent of the applicants scored under fifty out of a hundred points. You were at ninety-two. I think the closest one right after you was sixty-one.”
I stare at him with utter shock. Really? I scored that high on his recruitment test?
“I know I reacted poorly, and once more, I’m sorry for the accusations,” Lex adds. “But you were standing there, looking like…” He thinks briefly before continuing, “Looking fresh out of college, and my rational mind couldn’t accept you were the same Andy who nailed my test—regardless of your gender.”
I kinda get why he was so harsh back then. I look younger than I am, especially when I wear my nerdy T-shirts. Between that and my impressive score on his test, I can understand why he thought I cheated my way in, somehow.
“But you quickly proved me wrong, and I’m glad you turned out to be the real deal,” he continues, his intense gaze capturing mine as we wait for the elevator. The mood switches and the amiable conversation now slides into something more intimate. His magnetic aura slowly envelops me, my body warming up at his words.
“I’m glad I did, too.”
I’ll forever be grateful for the opportunity to work here, meet the team, make such great friends… And no matter what I tell myself, I’m glad I methim. Lex is a revelation of the flesh and of the mind.
I silently process all the information he gave me on our way up. Thanks to his newly discovered humanity, I’m even more attracted to him.
As if the man needed any help in that department.
It’s like our cordial lunch together unlocked something. Now, our exchanges are somewhat free of tension, and we’re not as disinclined to talk. We even arrange our screens so it’s easier to speak.
We have until Wednesday to polish the app before San José, and I doubt we’ll manage. While we’re reaching a ninety-five percent accuracy with colorful nails, we can’t get over forty-five without it. It’s doable but requires much more time than we have.
At some point in the afternoon, I hear her let out an annoyed growl, so I ask, “Anything I can do to help?”
“I have to make some adjustments, but I need to check the algorithm while it’s running for that.”
“Do you want me to sign while you inspect?”
“Uh… It would help, yes,” she hesitantly answers. “But are you fine with wearing nail polish?”
The fact that she even doubts it is a little insulting. Does she think I’m one of those toxic alpha men?
“I’ve heard red suits me best.”
Her slight shock barely lasts a second before she smiles and looks into her bag. “I don’t think I have any. I have a pretty nice fuchsia. It’s not great quality, but it dries fast, which is all we need,” she explains after some shuffling, brandishing the small bottle.
“Do you want me to apply it?” she offers, failing at hiding her amusement.
I should say no and handle it myself. It doesn’t need to be perfect for the test, and it would be the reasonable thing to do. But I’ve been craving her touch for days, and we’re in some kind of peaceful truce, so I roll my chair to her side of the desk and rest a flat hand in front of her.
The absurdity of the moment has her giggling every few seconds as she meticulously applies a coat of cheap fuchsia on my nails.
“Stop giggling,” I dryly order, feigning offense before I add, “you’ll make a mess.”
That makes her laugh softly, and I smile at the sound. Something indeed shifted during our lunch, didn’t it?
Once she’s done with my left hand, I blow on the nails while she handles the other. The switch brings us even closer, and I can’t stop myself from admiring her pretty profile as she works. Since that night we shared, I’ve been drawn to her lips on more than one occasion. They’ve been haunting me, making me wish I could enjoy their softness again, sample their taste, experience their greed again… My cock swells in my jeans as I envision them wrapped around it, all pink, wet, and plump. I adjust my position, hoping she won’t notice.
With her hands on me and her scent in my nose, it becomes painful by the time she finishes.
“All done,” she proudly says, letting me go and straightening up. “You like it?” she teases.
“Not my best color, but it’s still better than green.” Her puzzled expression compels me to explain. “My sisters practiced all kinds of things on me—hair, makeup, nails… Between the age difference and the fact that we barely shared any interests, I took every opportunity I had to spend time with them.”
“That’s adorable.”
During the following hour, she has me signing various sentences repeatedly while she focuses on the code on her screen. She corrects a few things, and once we’re done, I walk over to check the results with her, slipping my glasses on as I do.
We read the lines, scan the script, and when we reach the bottom, I say, “Good job. We’ll have to run some tests, but I think it’ll help with the final version.”
