He doesn’t just enter the room. He takes the room, as if by force. His presence is commanding, and his shoulders are huge, muscular, and wide.

Except for his suit, he doesn’t look like any billionaire finance man I’ve ever seen. His hair isn’t slicked back, and he’s not clean shaven. His stubble is a fine grit that runs along his razor-sharp jaw line.

An intricate tattoo is partially visible on the side of his neck, above his shirt collar. Normally I don’t go for tattoos, but on him… it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

Everyone stares at him. It’s impossible to look away.

He’s a head taller than everyone else, and he moves with the muscular power of an athlete.

A look of intense concentration runs across his face. The message is clear: he’s the boss, and he’s not taking shit from anyone.

“That’s the boss,” whispers Natalie, one of my coworkers.

“I don’t think anyone would doubt that,” I say.

Before Natalie can say anything, his eyes lock onto mine.

I second guess myself at first. Out of everyone here, why would he be staring at me? Does he think I’m someone else?

But there’s really no second guessing. He devours me with his eyes.

I should look away, but I just can’t.

“He was staring at you,” exclaims Natalie, when he finally moves into the next room.

“I don’t think so,” I whisper. “He couldn’t be.”

But it becomes clear that he is. There’s no denying the fact that he’s staring right at me, without breaking his gaze as he moves across the floor.

He moves out of the room, and everyone’s gaze follows him until he’s gone.

I hope Natalie doesn’t notice that my breathing has grown more rapid. If I had a fan with me, I’d fan myself.

“It’s hot in here, isn’t it?” I say, trying to play off my blushing face.

Natalie just gives me a look. “Don’t worry,” she says. “He made me feel the same way the first time I saw him.”

“I don’t know if I can get used to that look,” I say.

“You’re new here, right?” says Natalie.

She’s actually one of the few people here whose name I know.

“Yeah,” I say. “It’s my first week.”

There’s so much more to my story, but I’ve grown cautious about overwhelming people by dumping my whole life story on them, so I just try to keep it simple.

“Well, welcome aboard,” says Natalie. “Looks like the boss has taken a fancy to you.”

We introduced ourselves my first day on the job, but I’m pretty sure she doesn’t remember my name. I don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable, though, by reminding her. I tend to remember people’s names when they don’t remember mine, and it makes me nervous.

Natalie heads out of the mailroom, clutching a bundle of copies.

I’m the mail room worker. But there isn’t really much intra-office mail these days, with email and all. Mostly, working in a mail room these days means being something like a secretary’s assistant. I help people make copies. I scan documents, and print things, along with making posters for business presentations.

I never thought I’d be working in a mail room. Not that there’s anything wrong with it. But less than a year ago, I was on track to finishing law school. I was working like a demon, studying 80 hours a week, and I was on track to graduating first in my class. Basically, I was headed for a successful career right after graduation. People said I would make partner within a few years.

Then came the fatigue, which hit me like a ton of bricks. People said I was just overworked and exhausted, and that’s what the doctor said at first too. But the diagnosis quickly became more severe, the specialist telling me that I had full blown chronic fatigue syndrome. It was like drowning—just trying to do everyday tasks became impossible. It was a herculean effort just to lift my arm up, or to try to get out of bed.

It didn’t help that my dad used my identity to create a bunch of credit cards in my name, squandering a huge amount of money and then leaving me with the debt. That was the straw that broke my back, so to speak. I felt I couldn’t trust anyone. Just thinking about it made me even more exhausted.

Here I am, a little less than a year later, basically completely recovered. I don’t have any more fatigue. I got into meditation and yoga, and learned to go easy on myself.

Losing my virginity wasn’t exactly on the top of my list of things to deal with when I had all that crazy fatigue.

I try to keep my mind focused on reloading the paper for one of the printers, but my mind keeps going back to that man, the boss, who wouldn’t stop staring at me. Even though it’s been almost ten minutes since he’s passed by, I’m still flustered.

Does he stare that way at everyone? Or is it just me?

He couldn’t possibly see something special in me, could he?

But even amidst my doubts, deep down, I know the answer: no, that was a special look, just for me.

But it’s not like I can do anything about it. The last thing I need in my life right now is more complication. I’m trying to simplify. Keeping things simple is what’s kept me from the fatigue.

And it’s not like I have any experience anyway.

I graduated high school early, and then graduated college early. I was the youngest student in my law class. I was always motivated, an overachiever. That meant that I never had time for socializing, or for… sex.

Yup, I’m a virgin.

Hardly anyone knows, except my best friend June. After all, in this day and age, it’s considered something shameful. It’s not exactly something you go around telling people.

But, at this point, I’m getting the feeling that I just need to go ahead and do something about it. It’s becoming a problem, a problem I keep telling myself I should tackle with the same enthusiasm I always tackled my studies with.