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The tension left me like exorcised demons as I squeezed. An unexpected fringe benefit to using the ball was the incredible hand strength it gave me. It increased my typing speed by nearly 20 percent and gave me nearly bone-crushing power when it came to hand-shakes should I decide to use it. I didn’t usually, unless faced with some swaggering so-and-so, likely away of my reputation for being chill and decided to test me. I would start out moderate, like I did with every one. If they started squeezing though, I would squeeze right back, keeping up with them until they relented. There was one young bull in particular, a new addition to the marketing department who was keen to show his superiority to all he saw. He had done a sort of demented tour of the other departments, under the false banner of orientation and swung his absurd swagger on all the department commanders. Except his own of course. He wasn’t that kind of stupid. All hat and no cattle, as the saying wet down south he had tried the same bullshit on me. Tragically unaware that I was having none of hit. His face had gone and interesting shade of red and there were actual tears in his eyes before he back down. He transferred to a different office a week later.
The ball dropped with a plop back into the drawer. The squeak sounded again on the closing, only to be joined by another as I opened the one below it.
It wasn’t as fancy as the first two. I still had lots of the paper I’d used for the earrings and perfume but liked to change things up when possible. It helped to keep thing interesting in my experience. The only thing that was the same as the first two was the not on the top. A makeshift card, taking full advantage of my origami hobby and slightly strange obsessions with old-fashioned writing tools. It was fact not often publicized but every one of my published work and been originally composed by a fountain pen in leather-bound journals that looked like they were published around the time Lord Byron was in diapers.
I was great my own rules. It was already going a bit beyond the tradition by leaving a gift every morning. I was about to go complete beyond the pale by giving two gifts in one day. The arbitrary, self-appointed arbiters of society would be appalled. Not that I a flying, flaming, flipping fuck. I just couldn’t help showering Skye with gifts. It was the only way I had of expressing my affections. At least as far I could see. It made me happy to see her happy. Even if her initial reaction to the last two gifts had been shocked disbelief. I couldn’t blame her really. Especially if she was aware of the history concerning the perfume or the price tag attached to the earrings. Though it also didn’t escape my notice that she had been wearing both the earrings and the perfume. Both of them put on within minutes of receiving them. The sapphires were obvious enough, even under the soft lights of my office. I’d set it up that way to mimic the effects of candlelight. Just an Idea I’d had one deep dark night while royally smashed on Absinthe. It had seemed brilliant at the time. The perfume was a lot more subtle. Especially considering I was still maintaining personal distances. Despite the burning urge to hold her. My sense of smell had always been unusually strong. Fine in everyday life. A bit more of a problem when walking among the food vendors of a street market. It was so overwhelming, I might as well have been hit in the head with a brick thrown from a passing car.
I moved the gift from the drawer to the desk top, closing the drawer in the same instant. I couldn’t’ go yet.It would be too obvious. Most of the staff left for lunch. All of them taking it at the same time. The only exception was Inga. I doubted she would notice and even if she did, she was nothing if not discreet. No way she would want to ruin the fun. It helped that she had no idea what was in the box. Then there might have been a few more questions.
Breathing deep I waited patiently. As long as I could anyway. The twin demons of lust and curiosity dancing sinister waltzes on my head. Their powers of persuasion were considerable, but still nothing more than I could handle. I had a secret weapon up my well-tailored sleeve. Courtesy of my witchy mommy.
Closing my eyes, I focused my mind. Blocking out all external input to the point I could no longer feel the chair under me. As far as I could tell through my self-altered perception, I was standing. More specifically, I was standing in the middle of a clearing. Medium length grass under my feet, surrounded by thick and ancient words. Overseeing it all, reaching u into the clear blue sky, seeming like it could almost touch it was a mighty, snow capped mountain.
