I turn to him, wondering what is next.
His smile is wicked. “Back to work, Grasshopper.”
My jaw falls to the floor. He’s got to be kidding? He can’t work me up like that, and then just ask me to leave.
“Back to your desk,” he commands, and I slowly walk back down the hall in his office. He follows me out. When he shoots me an impish grin and closes his door, I finally get it. This must be his thing. He likes to tease, to draw the dance out, make a whole meal of it. I can’t say that he hasn’t warned me. He’s told me that he likes to take things slow.
What did he call himself? A sensualist… yes, that’s it. I smile, not quite sure how I feel about it all. I wonder what he’s doing behind his closed door. I bounce over and turn the handle, but it’s locked.
Yes, I think I know exactly what he’s doing.
How am I supposed to get back to work after that? I grab my water bottle and down a long drink. I turn my attention to my laptop screen and attempt to get back to it.
And I just know it’s going to be a very long day.
