“I think I can fit that into my schedule. Swing by my office and let’s talk about that report,” you say over your shoulder as you continue down the hallway.
I wait eagerly in my cubicle and watch the clock tick and then tock. I can’t follow behind you too closely. I smooth my skirt as I stand and feel the pull of my skin as my thighs withdraw from the adhesive of the leather chair. I let out a small hiss at the pain and keep moving. My heart is racing. I’ve been thinking about you all day and I’m hoping you’re the same way. I take the stairs to the second floor and towards your office. I quicken my pace, you don’t like to be kept waiting. Your office door is closed and I hear your muffled voice. It’s hard to discern what you’re saying, but I feel safe assuming that you’re on a call. I casually peer from side to side before sliding into your office. I close and lock the door behind me. I don’t want any interruptions. The irony of my interrupting your call dawns on me and I grin cheekily. I put a single finger over my mouth, shushing myself.