Nathaniel
I abhor tardiness.I’m always on time and have never been late to anything in my life. In fact, my mother used to tease me about it, saying the only time I was ever late was the day I was born. Ever since then, I’m prompt, if not at least five minutes early to everything.
That position has served me well all throughout college, grad school and now my career. When you’re a top researcher in your field, there are certain deadlines that have to be met in order to win research grants and submit data for clinical review. It drives me forward and keeps me sane.
Today, however, has been a complete cluster fuck. The snow started to fall earlier this morning as I watched the city streets below become covered with white as I was on a conference call with my fellow researcher, Jose Peralta. By the time I was ready to head out, hailing a cab was impossible, so I hoofed it down to Fifth, which took me an addition fifteen minutes that I hadn’t planned on. Now as I walk into the Brazilian café Dolly scheduled for my interview today, I shake off my winter coat and remove my hat, frustrated and thrown off my game.
Removing my dark-rimmed glasses to wipe off the foggy film that accumulated on my walk, I impatiently sidle past a few patrons and search the room, hoping my potential interview isn’t here yet. Through my blurry field of vision, I see a woman in the back corner of the restaurant watching me with naked interest.
Or at least I think it’s interest, as all I can really make out without my glasses on is that she has on a bright red blouse buttoned up to her chin and a shock of maze-colored hair cascades across her shoulders. The contrast is bold and blinding.
Slipping my glasses back on, I take a few steps forward and stop dead in my tracks. The blonde stands from the booth, extending a hand with a tilt of her hand and a tentative smile on her beautiful face.
“Are you Mr. Leeds?”
This isn’t going to work.
“Excuse me?” she says with an incredulous tone. “What isn’t going to work?”
Oh shit, I guess I said that out loud. Well, fuck me.
I gesture with my hand toward her. “You. You’re too young. You don’t have the experience I’m looking for.”
I’m about to turn around to leave, hoping to extricate myself from the tempting woman in front of me. Now that I have a good view of her, I’m convinced she will only be a distraction if I hire her.
She’s beautiful. Blonde. Young. And sexy as fuck.
And I’d be inside her panties and fucking her within a day’s time. Which means, it would be a fucking disaster and she’d hinder my research progress, which I won’t tolerate.
I know myself. I may put a vast majority of time and effort into my research career, but I also have a very sizeable and insatiable sexual appetite. And lucky for me, I’ve never had any problem attracting the opposite sex.
But I do not sleep with women I work with or who work for me, rather. People might say I’m a playboy and womanizer. That’s true. In this city, there is no shortage of beautiful women and I use that to my advantage. There is, however, a shortage of good assistants and I need that right now more than a quick lay.
The woman -Marin, I believe is her name– thrusts a piece of paper in front of me. A bit indignantly, I might add.
“First of all, Mr. Leeds, how dare you make an assumption about my age in relation to my abilities. I will have you know that I am a college graduate with two years of office and organizational management experience. I worked for one of the toughest bosses in this city until recently. I am ethical, organized and extremely competent. In fact, I think I’m overqualified for this role, but I’m doing it for...”
She suddenly stops speaking, clearly wobbling on her soapbox, her cheeks burning with the rosy color of embarrassment (or irritation) and her lips are pursed tight. To say I’m mildly curious is like saying the Yankees are just an average team.
“Go on…I’m listening. The floor is yours.” I gesture with my hand, a placating smirk forming across my face. Shrugging off my wet jacket, I place it on the back of the chair and pull it out from table, sitting down across from the still fuming woman.
I’m going for nonchalant and mildly interested, but truth be told, this little firecracker has grabbed my full attention. And I’m all for learning more about what makes this girl light up.
“Fine,” she grimaces, dropping the copy of her resume on the table and sitting back down in a huff.
In hopes of smoothing things over and giving her a moment to regroup, I briefly read through her resume. While not a long list of credentials, it does prove what she’s saying is correct. She lasted two years under the thumb of Abe Farrugia. Thatisimpressive.
When I glance back up at Marin, she’s rubbing her bottom lip with her thumbnail in a nervous manner. But all I can think about is rubbing that lip against something else.
Fuck, that’s not helping.
I give her a meaningful nod of the head. “Shall we begin again? I’m Nathaniel Leeds. It’s nice to meet you, Miss Cooke.”
She takes my outstretched hand and the warmth of hers in my palm sends a current of electricity up my arm and straight to my cock. What the fuck is that all about? I drop her hand immediately, as if I’ve just been bitten by a seething Cobra and return my attention to her resume. But the sultry sound of her voice draws me back to her face.
“I apologize for my outburst, Mr. Leeds…”
“Please, call me Nathaniel.”
