An Office Affair: II

(Cont’d)

I smoothed my skirt and steeled myself. I’d taken a couple of steps towards his cubicle. Progress was good. I’d make it there. I’d sit on the edge of his desk with my skirt riding up my thighs, long wavy hair cascading down my shoulder in an intimate curtain… and smile. Nicely. Don’t grin like a fuckwit, I told myself. The plan was to look effortlessly sexy.

“Hey,” I’d say casually. Hey, I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner — I make a very good dessert. “Wanna get a drink after work?” I’d keep my tone neutral, almost bored.

He stood up. I lost it. I stopped in my tracks immediately. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. I turned around and retreated hastily.

Loser, I taunted myself. You can’t do this. You’re a humongous… Useless Thing. Imbecile, I corrected myself. Dolt. I picked up my bag and sighed in self-defeat.

I walked out to the lift lobby. Christiaan was there as well! I visualized a miniature version of myself doing smug somersaults and singing inane rhymes like an Oompa-Loompa. The planets were aligned. It was my moment. Take that, Detractor-Dulcinia. I smirked at myself.

We got into the lift with several other people. I smiled warmly at him and he smiled back. Play it cool. Don’t slouch. Check your watch – makes you look busy and not overeager. Don’t. Look. At. His. Crotch. And get caught doing so.

I looked at his crotch anyway.

The lift dinged. Everyone filed out. He turned to me right away and smiled.

“Are you heading to the MRT?”

“Yep. Are you…?”

“Yeah!” We walked in silence for a while; myself a couple of steps behind so I could check him out. Crisp white shirt with nice, sharp lines; jeans that fit perfectly; brown suede Oxfords – no wing-tips, thankfully; black leather messenger bag. Very sleek.

“Thank God it’s Friday.” I grinned at him.

“Yeah! I know… so glad to be out of there.” His smile was disarming. “You going out?”

“Yeah, maybe tonight. I’m going home to chill out first though. You? Weekend plans?”

“Yeah, I think so… maybe tomorrow.”

“Oh? Where to?”

“Usually my friends like to go to Butter… or Zouk. What about you?”

I shrugged. “Zouk. Attica sometimes, Butter… rarely. Chijmes, Helipad…” I trailed off with another shrug. We get on the train.

“Oh, I’ve not been to Chijmes yet. I’ve walked past it a few times though.”

“Well, I might be going there this weekend. You should give me a ring if you want to drop by.” Another shrug. I smiled up at him. I love men who tower over me.

“Yeah, sure! Um…” We reached for our phones at the same time.

“Why don’t you give me your number and I’ll text you so you have mine,” I offered. This, IMO, is the best way to get in contact with someone, especially if he/she can’t possibly avoid you in the near future. Take his/her number and withhold yours. Whoever has the most information has the most power.

“Okay.” He gave me his number. “You’re getting off at this stop?”

“Yup.” I put my phone away – without texting him. “Have a good weekend!” The doors opened.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Maybe.” I stepped off and smiled over my shoulder. He waved. I smiled back and walked away – working the walk, as my friend advised.

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