"Camila?" The sound of my name brought my head up with a jerk. I looked up – into cold emerald eyes, staring down at me.
She looked at me and I looked at her, and it was crystal clear that neither of us knew what the hell to say.
"We got the account," she said finally.
I managed a smile that I'm sure was downright ghastly from the other side. "That's wonderful. Congratulations."
She nodded slowly. "I'm...going home for the day – I think I need a little vacation." She looked around uncomfortably – it was the first time I can ever remember having seen her looking awkward. "Finish up the paperwork for the week while I'm gone...I'll see you on Monday."
I tried my best not to let my chin hit the desk. I wasn't fired? "Of course," I finally stammered. "Have a good vacation."
I wasn't deluding myself – she wasn't inviting me to keep doing anything, she was just a decent enough person not to fire me for trying to help, no matter how inappropriate what I had done had been. By the time she came back on Monday, I had beaten myself up enough over the whole thing to be committed to acting as though it had never happened, and Lauren seemed to want to pretend the same. That was fine with me. I never wanted to feel that awful sinking feeling again – that feeling that you've just totally screwed up your life.
Nevertheless, life went more or less back to normal after that. Our interactions were polite and professional, and we slowly lost the awkwardness around each other, moving back to where we could smile and make small talk without feeling like fools.
Eventually, I convinced myself that Lauren had practically forgotten all about it. I, of course, had not. Lauren now featured prominently in my fantasies, no matter how hard I tried to change that. I had never really been attracted to an older woman before, though Lauren hardly looked thirty-five. I'm sure the danger of the whole occurrence helped with the eroticism of it for me, but I just couldn't help myself. Every night, I writhed on my own fingers, tasting and smelling and feeling Lauren against my lips, again and again.
"Camila?" Her voice sounded urgent.
I rose from my desk, hurrying into Lauren's office.
She looked up, muting her phone. "Did we ever hear back from that appraiser guy? I need his figures."
"I don't think so," I answered, "let me check the mail stack again." I rushed out and down the hall to the mail desk, checking out box, but there was nothing new. I headed back to Lauren's office.
"No, I'm telling you," she was saying angrily into her phone, "she can't sign the settlement until the appraiser confirms those numbers. I'm not going to advise anyone to sign it blind, and neither are her attorneys." She looked up at me hopefully, but I shook my head. She gritted her teeth, mouthing several things she couldn't say aloud.
"No," she said again into the phone, "you're not listening to me...we can't...yes...no...well, that might be possible. Will he agree to that?" Then her eyes widened. "On their way? You can't be serious. I can't advise..."
I waited attentively, in case she needed anything else. I found my eyes drifting to the chair behind her where she stood at her desk, the memories burning through my brain.
Suddenly I realized she was signaling to me. I straightened.
"Yes," she was saying, "we can be ready by then. Our conference room will be fine. No, it's their call whether or not to call in the client. Yes. Fine." She hung up, growling in annoyance.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"The ass wants to change the deal," she sighed, plopping down into her chair and rubbing her forehead. "They put together a new agreement, they want my opinion of it, and they're already on their way – we're meeting downstairs in ten minutes."
"Ten minutes?" I said, taken aback.
"I know, damn it," she growled. "I hate last minute meetings."
"Will you be ready?" I asked. Dimly, some part of my brain sensed an opportunity. "The client will be there, it sounded like."
"Yes," she said, suddenly worried. "They're coming along – and they weren't too happy the last time."
I smiled a little nervously. "Do you have everything you need?"
She sighs, leaning her head back in her chair, obviously displeased. "More or less."
Something in my brain told me that it was now or never, and I couldn't stop myself. Not looking at her, I stepped around the desk and took the arm of her chair, swiveling it toward me. She stared at me in surprise as I knelt down, gripping her wrists where they laid on the armrests, and held them down.
