LOVE TO HATE YOU

I heard he was raised by wolves...

I also knew what being late meant. I would surely walk slap bang into an apocalyptic crisis lifted straight from the book of Revelations. Working at an ad agency means going from one emergency to another. High stakes, lots of money on the line, demanding clients, demanding creatives and tight deadlines. It was my first job out of college too—talk about baptism by fire.

My car finally started after a few smoky chugs and I threw a few thank-yous out into the universe to whichever deity was listening. But as soon as I drove out of my apartment complex and turned onto the highway, I was assaulted by bumper-to-bumper Jo'burg traffic, made even worse by minibus taxis and their "creative" driving techniques. Currently I had one only centimeters from my bumper with a painted sign on his back window that read, "What goes surround, Comes surround." 

At least something about this morning was vaguely humorous. But the static traffic gave me time to think and reflect...

What the hell had happened last night? Most of it was a blur, but every now and then an image flashed through my mind.

Vodka. Lots.

"Is this seat taken?" That smooth move and that husky voice...

Slowly grinding himself into me on the dance floor, running his hands up my thighs, creeping way, way too high for public decency laws, until his hands were...

"You're so fucking beautiful." He'd whispered in my ear, his hands coming up and cupping my face.

"I want you so badly, Sera." How had he known my name?

"I need you." That was the moment I melted and decided to walk outside with him...

Fumbling for his car keys...

On him...

Under him...

Windows steaming up...

"Fuck, you're amazing." More words that made me lose my mind as I writhed on his lap and totally forgot myself in the moment...

His tattoos... those dark piercing eyes...

"I could do this forever," he whispered in my ear seductively.

"Sera." He rasped as he came on top of me, the weight of his body crushing me into the seat.

Oh. My. God. Had I really fallen for every lame jackass line in the book? He probably said that to all the girls he shagged in his back seat.

After a frustrating hour, I arrived at work, but the only parking space I could find was all the way on the other side of the office park, so I was forced to run with a pounding head and lurching stomach.

But when I finally got inside, I was downright shocked. Something was very wrong.

I was expecting to run straight into the usual office chaos: people screaming at each other, screaming into the phone, screaming at the coffee pot or the copy machine. But something bizarre was going on today. People were sitting around lazily...chatting?

It was as if someone had come in the night and tranquilized all my co-workers. Had someone put Xanor into the air conditioning system? That was surely the only explanation for this eerie calm. I inched my way to my desk feeling very uneasy—was this the calm before the storm?

Before I had a chance to pull out my chair, Ness slunk up to me and whispered conspiratorially into my ear.

"Have you heard?" she asked.

I half turned to her but she cut me off quickly before I could manage to respond.

"They hired a new Creative Director. Apparently he's a fucking rock star. Blake something I think—"

At the sound of that name, one of the junior copywriters who happened to be walking past quickly corrected her, "Isn't it Blade? I heard his name was Blade?"

Next thing I knew, an equally excitable art director joined the conversation, "Blaze? Isn't it Blaze? Or Slash?" She was practically squealing.

I looked from one glowing face to the other. Their eyes were lit up like firecrackers and their cheeks were flushed a bright shade of pink.

"I heard they offered him a huge financial package to come here," Ness said with a wild, wide-eyed look.

The other creatives simultaneously nodded in agreement, declaring that he was probably worth every cent, maybe even more. Yes, he was definitely worth more, they concluded. Then they walked off—no doubt to spread more legends of this creative man-God.

In an ad agency, creativity is king. It's the currency and the Holy Grail. So when one of these so-called creative geniuses comes around, it whips everyone into a star-struck frenzy. He might as well have been an actual rock star because everyone here at JTS was whipped. I was too hung over to be vaguely interested, but the rest of the office buzzed like the static on a television.

"I heard he doesn't sleep...ever, " the strange pale vampire girl from layout said dreamily.

"He's going to bring in a lot of new accounts...not to mention awards," two senior managers said as they passed.

"And apparently he nailed all the chicks at his last job," two guys from IT said before a macho fist bump.

I sighed and started to roll my eyes, but they hurt too much. I opened my email and there it was: "Meeting in the Canteen to introduce new CD" (Creative Director). The meeting was in ten minutes. I lay my head on my desk and waited for the headache pills to kick in.

I must have drifted off to sleep though because I thought I heard someone say, "I heard he was raised by wolves."

I opened my eyes and looked around, but no one was there. I glanced at my watch—Crap!

I jumped up and ran to the canteen as fast as I could without tripping and landing on my face. When I finally got there, everyone was already inside and standing around a black-clad figure—that must be him. I could only see the back of him from where I was. I glanced around looking for Ness and finally saw her standing in the front row with the other starry-eyed women. I carefully pushed my way forward trying not to be seen, but when I got there, he turned and suddenly I couldn't breathe—