LOVE TO HATE YOU

A big load...

What an asshole! With his ridiculous indoor sunglasses, his oh-so-cool cigarette and his stupid black borderline-tuxedo.

I hated him.

***

Work was painfully slow that day. It seemed that the arrival of Ben Morgan- his name was Ben, just plain old Ben, not any of the aforementioned exotic names such as Blaze, Blade, Slade or Jethro... Ben-had caused people to forget they had jobs... and minds. People were standing around, eagerly waiting for their names to be called. Ben said he was "hands-on," a phrase that had caused me to both cringe with disgust and tremble with excitement at the same time. He explained he was going to be speaking to all the members of his team "one-on-one"-another phrase that brought back images of backseat bumping and grinding.

Ben had used several phrases that morning that had my panties in a twist-as JJ was so fond of saying. I couldn't figure out whether he was an innate pervert who tossed around sexual innuendos like salad croutons, or whether I was just being overly sensitive.

"I have a big load for you today," he'd said before he emphasized how he wanted to "get on top of things." All the innuendo caused strange feelings to pass through my body, but I almost passed out cold when he said he "wanted to really get his hands dirty and not be a back seat driver." The mere mention of his backseat nearly put me in a coma.

But the worst thing was that my desk was directly across from his glass-walled office, so I had a front row seat and a clear view and-Oh my God, he was sexy...

He was calling people in for their one-on-ones, which caused a temporary traffic jam in the bathroom as women slicked on layers of fresh lip-gloss and fiddled with their hair and clothes.

Ben, however, seemed totally cool and calm as he sat at his desk looking devilish. He was the kind of man that your mother always warned you about. In fact, he was the kind of guy that should be made to wear a bright red, flashing warning sign around his neck. His casual, bordering on disinterested, way of leaning back in his chair and running his hands through his hair and-oh God-chewing on the end of his pencil was intoxicating. And not just for me. Every woman that left his office looked like they'd just had the best sex of their lives. They all had a sort of flustered, dazed look to them-even some of the guys. God only knew what he was saying to them.

As the day went on, I tried desperately to remain calm, but it was getting harder and harder as more co-workers came out with titillating stories of him-Vampire girl was especially vocal. He'd glanced over in my direction a few times when he'd called the names of people sitting nearby, but still he'd showed no recognition whatsoever-maybe I should have worn the wig to work.

The torturous hours dragged on until the day was almost over, and still my name hadn't been called. At five I got up and started packing, completely thrilled to have been overlooked, but then-

"Sera Holmes?"

The sound of my name from his lips caused a strange reaction inside. I froze, like a mime in mid movement. Then I sat back down in my chair, locked my eyes onto my computer screen and stared straight ahead, unblinking.

"Sera. Sera Holmes?"

I didn't move. Out of the corner of my eye I saw his black figure striding towards me and within seconds, he standing above me.

"Sera?"

I knew I couldn't keep pretending I hadn't heard him, so I nonchalantly held up my hand and said, "Just give me one moment please, I'm in the middle of something." As soon as the words were out of my mouth I imagined being fired on the spot. Not only had I slept with him, my boss, but now I was making him talk to the hand-what a disaster. So I pretended to read a few more words on the screen, nodded a few times and wrote something down on a piece of paper.