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The man grimaces and then turns on his heels and moves toward the elevator. I heft my bag over my shoulder as I follow him.
“I’m Jason, Mr. Walker’s assistant. He’s unhappy things have been delayed.”
“Oh dear, whatever will I do with myself? How will I make it through the rest of my day?” I reply in an exaggerated tone. Mr. Walker, the entitled prick, can suck a fat dick. Not mine, of course, but definitely a big one, and I hope he chokes on it.
Jason steps into the elevator and punches the third-floor button.
I lean against the elevator wall and take him in. Let me tell you, it’s not a pretty sight. His shirt is a little too snug on his body, stretching the buttons to near capacity, and there are distinct wet marks under his armpits. He’s panting slightly, even though we only walked about twelve strides to the elevator. His little fingers are fidgety, like squirmy centipedes. Sneaky, poisonous fuckers with all those wiggly little legs. I shudder.
“Are you going to die?” I ask. “Because you don’t look well, Jason.”
“I’m fine,” he bites out.
“You don’t look fine. You look like you’re about one hectic Monday away from flatlining.”
The elevator dings and the door slides open, interrupting my professional diagnosis. Jason appears unconcerned about his imminent death, and just turns and walks swiftly down the long hallway. But he should be concerned. He looks very, very stressed and unhealthy.
When we arrive in front of suite 324, Jason opens the door. It leads into a small, empty waiting room, and I continue to follow him through another door that opens to a short hallway of offices.
“A bit eerie back here, huh? Where are all the people?” I ask, noting the absence of life. “Are you running a morgue? Do you embalm dead people in your spare time, Jason?”
“Of course not. This is an accounting firm. We are still getting set up, which is why you being on time was of the utmost importance.”
I stop walking and stare at Jason’s back. When he realizes I’m not following him anymore, he stumbles a little and makes his way back to me.
“Why did you stop? Come on. We need to move.”
He makes it sound like he’s running some government agency where lives are on the line. This guy needs a reality check.
I roll my tongue ring across my teeth and fold my arms across my chest. “Jason, I am an hour late to an appointment I squeezed into my tight schedule because I am a saint. Do not berate me like this or I’ll leave. And trust me, you don’t want me to leave.”
He nods curtly, swiping at his forehead with a handkerchief before jamming it back into his pocket. “I apologize.”
Now, that’s better. I’m no doormat. I start moving again and Jason looks relieved that he doesn’t have to fight me on this. His heart probably can’t handle it anyway.
“Here is Mr. Walker’s office. If you could start in here, that would be great.”
I offer a fake smile. I’ll start wherever the fuck I want, but I don’t say that. I find it’s best to not argue with people like him. I don’t have the time or the mental capacity to deal with idiots.
“Righto,” I say and Jason lingers in the doorway before nodding and disappearing entirely.
Good riddance, sweaty man.
I set my bag down and take a look around, noticing the new carpet and ornate mahogany desk sitting near a large window. A large fake plant rests against a wall with an abstract painting hanging above it. It’s fancy but I’m not impressed. I don’t trust a person who can’t handle the responsibility of watering a real plant once a week.
I squat down and begin pulling out what I need to get the job done when I hear the door open behind me. I just ignore it. If it’s Jason hurrying me along already, I will probably reach out, grab onto his ankle, and tug. Watch him fall over like a tiny tree.
Timber, motherfucker.
“Who are you?” a deep voice says above me, and I freeze as a pair of nicely polished black dress shoes move into my vision.
I let my eyes slide up the fine specimen standing beside me. Dark grey pressed pants—a little tight in the crotch, showing me the slight outline of an impressive dick, a white button-up shirt pulled snug over a trim waist and broad chest, a blue tie, and a fitted suit jacket over strong shoulders.
Yes, very nice indeed.
When I get to his face, though, all my hopes of bending him over that fancy desk and railing into him vanish.
Fuck, I would have snacked on him for hours if he wasn’t wholly and entirely inedible.
