Adam
I catch sight of her through the glass, separating the room of assistants from the main corridor of the advertising department. I have to look twice, just to be sure it’s her. She is focussed intensely on something at her desk, and appears to be the only one in the room – the other assistants either not due in or out at lunch. I am pleased they aren’t there.
I knock lightly on the door to the room, five desks crammed in.
She looks up, and I feel my heart thud. In the soft light glancing in from the window beside her, she looks even more beautiful than I remember. Those blue eyes, wide in surprise, her long, blonde hair falling down about her shoulders, half-up, half-down, her features smooth and glowing with health. Today, she is wearing navy trousers and a loose-fitting cream-coloured top, which flatters her silhouette perfectly, though I miss the green dress and the ribbon about her waist.
‘I thought I’d introduce myself to the team, and then I saw you – the lift girl,’ I grin, unable to conceal my delight in finding her here. With fifty floors, I thought it’d be a near-impossible challenge but then, here she is, in the same department as me, under my management, as it were.
‘You must be the new exec?’ she says, almost coolly, the surprise shifting to something else, indiscernible, on her face.
I nod. ‘I am. I must say, I’m very glad to have found you here, Miss -?’ I wait anxiously, wanting to know, finally, the name of this siren who has haunted my dreams, since meeting her.
‘Roxie. My name is Roxie,’ she says, and I play with it in my head; she looks like a Roxie.
‘Miss Roxie it is,’ I like the way it sounds out loud, and the smile she gives me as I tease her.
‘And you are?’ she asks, boldly.
‘I’m Adam, pleased to meet you,’ I say, moving slowly towards her, my hand outstretched in greeting. I long to feel her skin on mine, and relish the soft, smoothness of her hand as she slips it into mine, shaking it gently. She smiles, and it lights up her face; her eyes twinkling as she studies me, with some curiosity.
‘I’m afraid you might find you have a bit of a frosty reception,’ she says suddenly, tilting her head delicately to one side, exposing her long, slender neck. I am painfully aware my hand is still holding hers, but I can’t seem to let her go.
‘Oh?’ I question.
‘You seem to have upset the apple-cart a little bit,’ she explains.
I nod, understanding entirely. I had a feeling it would happen, when Geoff gave me the job, but I couldn’t say no to him and, at least this way, any anger is directed at me and not at Geoff. ‘I’m sure people will get to like me, once they know me. I’m a likeable guy,’ I joke, pulling my gaze level with Roxie’s. ‘And I’m very happy to be working here. I’m especially glad to be working with you,’ I say softly, my voice tight, as I move around the desk to stand closer to her. I hope I have not overstepped my boundaries but, as I near her, she does not pull away, does not move a muscle, as I stand there, so close I am almost pressed against her.
She glances up at me for a moment, chin tilted upwards, eyes looking at my neck, and bites her bottom lip ever so subtly, before quickly moving her gaze back down towards the sheets of paper on the desk. I can smell the daisy-scent of her perfume, sprayed into the golden strands of her hair, and feel as if I want to plant a kiss there, inhaling the scent of her. I want to follow the trail of her perfume, down the curve of her neck, across the line of her collarbone, lifting her wrists to my lips to kiss the daisy-scent there. I clear my throat, hoping she can’t read my thoughts.
‘Whose are these?’ I ask, leaning down to pick up a sheet of storyboard sketches, my fingertips accidentally brushing the soft skin of her hand, once more. It sends a shock of electricity through me, and the impulse to kiss her, to hold her to me, grows stronger. I focus on the sketches, trying to push the feeling away.
‘Mine,’ she says, her body drawn closer to the proximity of mine, so she is almost pressed against me as I look down over her shoulder. There is space in front of her; she does not need to be so close to my body, and yet she is choosing to be, the curve of her backside resting against my thigh.
‘These are good, Roxie. Very good,’ I growl, gazing intently at the images she has drawn, trying to ignore the closeness of her and the scent of her, intoxicating me. The storyboards are good – very good, in fact, making it easier to ignore my arousal, as I look over them. Her ideas and her drawings are excellent.
‘Thank you, Mr -?’ she teases.
‘Adam is fine,’ I repeat, wanting to hear her call me by my name.
‘Adam,’ she says slowly, as if savouring it.
Our eyes meet for a moment, her face so close to mine, her body touching my own, her arm brushing mine, and I feel my breath catch in my throat. My gaze lowers to her lips, wanting so much to lift her chin and kiss her there and then. I wonder if she is thinking the same, as she holds my gaze, but I dare not try it, fearing a swift rebuffing.
‘I’m looking forward to working more closely with you, Miss Roxie,’ I say, meaning it, as I reach out to hold her arm lightly, giving it a gentle squeeze of friendly companionship, as I remove myself from her presence, no longer able to think straight in her presence. There is an innocence about her that draws me in, wanting to know more, wanting to explore more, wanting to hear her wants and desires, wanting to kiss her smooth skin, pale as virgin snow. I move back towards the door of the room, still holding her storyboard – wanting to look over it in the comfort of my own office, without her fogging up my focus. ‘I’m going to look over this some more, but I’ll bring it back to you, I promise,’ I smile, before stepping out into the corridor and making a swift exit, towards my office at the very end of the hallway. I don’t look back to see if her eyes follow me.
This is dangerous, I think to myself, as I lock the office door behind me, and yet I can’t stop thinking about her; the shape of her, the beauty of her, the way she looked up at me, biting her lip as if she might kiss me. Foolish, no doubt, I remind myself, as I set to looking at the storyboard in front of me.
‘She really is very good,’ I whisper, to no-one at all.