A Place to Write

When I interviewed with him, I was immediately attracted. Mid-40s, partner at a law firm, the winning smile of a high school quarterback. Impossible to resist.

I immediately embraced the roll of new, young law clerk. Pencil skirts and pumps. Fuck me glasses. As weeks went by all interactions were strictly platonic.

Except for once. The office was deserted, we were the only ones left. I quickly left his office to pull a file, eager to go home. “I’ll be right back with that file for you.” As I breeze into his office, door wide open, my eyes focus on unmistakable images on the humming computer screen. His back turned to me, I clear my throat, burning a whole with my eyes in the file in my hands. I feel my fair skin tingle, flushed and embarrassed.  My eyes quickly glance at his lap, a reflex. Everything’s zipped and hidden. I’m strangely dissappointed. I’ve forgotten why I’m there, what I was going to say.

“The document… client’s… I found the brief, phone number. Here’s that file so I’m going to head out, see you Monday. Bye!” I grab my coat and purse as I rush out of the office and into my car, where I can’t help but burst out in laughter. I’m strangely exhilerated.

We recoverd, awkwardness only lingered for a day or two. And then…

Today.

“Come here and take a look at what I want you to work on.” He waves me behind his desk. To that screen. I stand in new territory, uncomfortable but my interest piqued. I’ve done this before, this task he’s assigned me. I don’t need a show and tell and he knows that.

He pulls up documents, scrolls through them. I’ve seen all this before. Minimizes one to pull up another, and there on his screen… “Want to bring sexy back? How to re-introduce intimacy…” That’s all I could read before more legalese swoops across the screen. Three times. He knows I can see the online brochure, he knows I’m right behind him staring over his shoulder. Just like he knew I was coming right back last time.

It occurs to me. He wants this. He wants me to see this. I stay in his office for thirty minutes, pretending to question him on the background of a certain case – I know what he wants. I play the innocent naive law student, begging to share his knowledge. I play with the pen in my hands, roll it across my lips as I giggle at his jokes, tap it on my collar bone.

Perhaps that older man fantasy has landed right in my lap.

I’m interested to see where this goes.