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Chapter 13
I Like Mine Strong And Black
His nostrils and mind still filled with the warm scent of her shampoo, he followed Dafna out of her office. She wore a blue dress, a shimmery material which had small clusters of tiny white flowers on it. Somehow he knew it was an expensive outfit. Her short jacket cinched at her waist, accentuating her lovely backside. He couldn’t stop staring at her round ass, which he knew to be pale, and it had looked even paler against his tanned palms, while he grabbed her from behind, plunging into her hot pussy, as her hoarse voice begged him to go harder, harder...
Stopping, he closed his eyes, taking deep, cleansing breaths, calling his dirty mind to order. He inhaled and exhaled several times, staring at the corridor’s walls, which had mauve waves painted on them. He considered the latest IFRS regulations as they pertained to property intended for sale in the ordinary course of business.
“Erez…?” She stopped, turned, and raised her sculpted brows at him.
“Yes. Ah, sorry, I was, eh, distracted.”
“You know what, let’s start with me showing you where the kitchen is. I could do with more coffee,” she said.
“I’d love some coffee,” he agreed with more than a little fervor.
They went along the short corridor and turned left, into a large kitchen, that had a floor-to ceiling glass wall, showing the park outside. High bright yellow stools lined a narrow window counter, as if chosen to fit the park’s yellow fruited trees.
“There we are,” Dafna said.
A huge coffee machine, with unground coffee beans filling a funnel on top, took up a third of the long wide black marble top. The rest was filled with a selection of cereals, granolas, bowls of fruits, and a wicker basket which held several types of sliced breads.
“Nice selection,” he said, noncommittal, not showing how excessive he thought this was.
“The management company takes care of the communal kitchen. Which I’m very grateful for, otherwise it would have been me. Do you know how to use this machine?”
He shook his head.
“I like mine strong and black,” she said, but there was no flirtation in her manner. She was formal, very different to the Dafna he met in the bedroom or even last night in the pub. He got why she was like that, but he didn’t like it.
“Me too.” He followed her instructions so he would know how to operate this mammoth of a machine and accepted a disposable paper cup. Dafna made her own in a ceramic cup that said: ‘HR knows everything’. She selected a stool and perched on it, and he joined her, wishing she would thaw towards him.
“This is great, thank you.” He raised his cup, and she nodded.
“Thank you for doing this.” She sipped her coffee. “I would have hated to think that because of my actions, the company I work for would miss out on an investment opportunity.”
“That was why I showed up here this morning. Because it wasn’t fair to Kisharti. And also, my boss would have been truly pissed off.”
He smiled at her, and his heart did a little flip when she smiled back. She was extraordinarily beautiful. Luminous eyes, high cheekbones, bright chestnut hair, soft to the touch, creamy skin, so smooth under his fingers, sensuous lips that had moved and opened to his, letting him plunge his tongue deeper... He tore his eyes away, concentrating on the distant cranes lining the industrial buildings across the river. Her tantalizing lavender smell still reached him so he buried his nose in his coffee.
“Eight thirty is pretty early, I thought startups started later.” He talked into his cup, making conversation.
“I come here early every morning, as early as seven thirty, to beat the traffic.”
“And to have stuff done in the morning without intrusions,” he stated. He did it, too, which was why he’d stopped surfing.
“Yes, because afterwards everyone wants a piece of me. I’m not bitter about it. That’s my job. I like working, putting in the hours.” She didn’t sound bitter.
“What do you check first thing every morning?” he asked her, genuinely curious.
“The ‘Talk to Dafna inbox’.”
“The what inbox?”
“Some people find it easier to email than to talk face to face.” She wriggled on her stool, talking animatedly. Maybe she was like him. She loved to talk about her work, but everyone else found it boring.
“They would procrastinate a one-on-one talk with me, but an email is something they can write and re-write and send it just as they mean it to be said. Last year I started an experiment. I initiated an open box email–talk to HR in private.”
“And has it worked?”
