In planning my first day of work before I’d actually started it, I’d assumed I’d head back to my office after today’s orientation and continue setting it up and start working on any new assignments or notes from that day’s instructions. But since I don’t have an office yet, I sit down at my cubicle and stare at my computer.
There isn’t really any new work to get started on. At least, not until I see Asher. I just want to make sure that the Barbies and Ken leave, so they don’t see me going to his office on the seventeenth floor and start asking me even nosier questions.
I upload the notes I took during today’s orientation session to my drive on the firm server. I think about opening up the billing software and seeing if there’s a category for “training.” I doubt it, since the only hours that count are actual billable and collectible time spent working on client matters.
But then I see something flash in the corner of my computer screen. The IT guy had told me that app was for the intra-office instant messaging system. But I wasn’t expecting to get any messages yet.
I gulp and then click on the flashing light, somehow knowing who it’ll be.
Asher Isaacs: Did you read my note?
My fingers hover above the mouse, nervous to answer.
Madilyn St. Clair: Yes.
Asher Isaacs: Well, are you coming?
I gulp again.
Great.
I’m already being chastised by my new mentor. But I can’t help looking up and around and over my shoulder.
How does he know I’m here?
A thousand possible explanations run through my mind. He knows what time the orientation was scheduled to finish. It’s the end of the day so he assumes I’ll be here. Maybe the partners can see when the associates’ computers are online. The instant messaging system does alert them when I’m online.
But I still feel as if I’m being watched.
And I don’t know whether to be creeped out or intrigued. I guess I feel a mixture of both. Like with everything else today, my emotions seem to be a big jumbled mess and jump all over the place.
I know I’d better answer him, right away.
Madilyn St. Clair: Yes, just had to upload my orientation notes. I’ll be right up.
His answer is instantaneous.
Asher Isaacs: Good.
This is clearly not a man who is used to waiting. He’s a man used to people jumping when he says jump. And he’s letting me know that I didn’t jump quickly enough.
Oops.
My heart pounds as I take the elevator up to the senior partner floor. It’s obvious that Asher is trying to exert some sort of power play over me, and I can only imagine what he has in store for me when I get to his office.
If what the Barbies say is true, then he expects me do more for him than write research memos. Will he bend me over the desk and spank me? Does he have a bookcase that turns into some torture device or leads to a secret love den?
I blush at my thoughts. I want to laugh at their ridiculousness but I also have no idea what to expect. I can feel my panties dampening a bit, and I can’t believe I’m getting turned on by thoughts of what my boss and new mentor could do to me.
But they’re just thoughts, I remind myself, as the elevator door opens and I head to his office. And they’re natural. He’s older, powerful and really fucking hot, to boot. And it’s not like my love life has been on fire any time recently.
I can’t help but feel lucky that the mysterious man I’d spent this morning masturbating over is now calling me to his office for some sort of intrigue.
I take a breath, and knock on Asher’s office door.
“It’s unlocked,” he says. “Come in.”
Unlocked?
Who has a lock on their office door?
Apparently Asher Isaacs.
As I step into his office, I realize he has a lot of things that other lawyers at the firm don’t.
For one thing, his office is much larger than any other office I’ve seen in the firm. It has the best view of the Sandia Mountains. It boasts a large screen TV. A leather couch and recliner. A Mad Men-style bar, a golf practice area and stacks of weights and kettle bars.
When I finally focus my gaze on him, as he sits behind his large mahogany desk, he’s still looking down at his work.
“Madilyn. Come in.”
He waves his hand at me, still without looking up.
I obediently take a few steps forward.
“Wait,” he says, holding up a finger. “Please close and lock my door first.”
I pause.
“It’s my office policy,” he says. “You’re to do it every time.”
“Yes, Mr. Isaacs.”
I close the door, and then lock it.
“Call me Boss,” he says.
He’s got to be kidding, I think.
But when I turn towards him again he’s finally looking at me with a sincere expression on his handsome face.
His brown eyes stare into mine in a way that seems as if he can see through me. He smells musty and masculine as if he’s been outdoors. His office smells like wood.
“Yes, Boss.”
I hope I don’t blush as I say it.
I have to admit to myself that it feels exciting.
“Okay good. Now come over here to my desk. I’ve been waiting for you.”