notepad in her lap, pen in hand, and eyes trained dutifully on the PowerPoint presentation on the screen at the front of the room. Around her, the rest of the employees at the Stamford office of TMB either sat, stony-faced, as they took in the presentation, or shifted restlessly. Some were brazen enough to surreptitiously check and type in their BlackBerrys or iPhones. It was another meeting called by management with the intention to rally the troops and, yet again, it was failing miserably to achieve that goal.
Behind Chelsea's docile facade, her mind was working wildly. She was sitting next to one of the senior account executives, the company hotshot, Travis. Travis was not only hot in the sense of being one of the top sales execs in the company; he was hot in the looks department, too - tall, dark and handsome. And single . And gave her "the look" from time to time, so she knew he'd noticed her, too.
She had secured this prime piece of real estate in the conference room by walking by his office prior to the meeting and opening a filing cabinet just outside his door, placing the notepad and pen she'd need at the meeting on top of it. Then she started looking among the files. Of course, there was nothing she needed from the file cabinet other than its handy proximity to Travis's office, but she gave a good show. While tickling the files, she listened to him finish his telephone conversation and hang up. She heard him mutter, "Shit," and then there was the sound of his chair rolling back on its plastic mat followed by the rattle of the chair as he stood. Now. She prepared to pounce.
Just as she closed the filing cabinet drawer, pen and pad in her other hand, he appeared in his office door. She smiled brightly at him and tossed her hair back. "Going to the meeting?"
"Yeah. You?"
"Yeah."
"Come on, the torture's just about to begin," he said, shrugging one shoulder at her and starting down the hall.
She ran to catch up with him in the tiny steps her ultra-high heels confined her to until he noticed her jogging behind him and slowed down to walk with her, asking her how she could walk in "those things" and gesturing at her feet. She giggled and said she couldn't even walk in flats she was so used to heels. She saw him take in her shape appreciatively. Good, he definitely liked curvy girls.
She followed him into the conference room and boldly sat next to him. Taking advantage of the lull after they sat, she said, "Can you believe they're calling another one of these? We just had one, like, two weeks ago."
He groaned and rolled his eyes. "Don't remind me. That was the one where they compared us to rabbits and said we were all in the same burrow, right?"
"More like we're all lemmings and we're supposed to jump off a cliff and die together."
He let out a little chuckle. "Good one."
"You know what TMB stands for, right?"
"It's the letters of the last names of three guys who started this company. I think it's...Thomas Moore and Bailey? Or is it Thomas Morehead and Bartleby?"
"No, TMB stands for Too Much Bullshit."
Travis laughed outright. "Awesome! I'll have to use that." He looked her over again. "Didn't know you had a sense of humor."
"You should see me when I really get going."
"Really?" he said, his eyes raking over her again, his smile wolfish.
He started to say something else and she leaned forward, waiting for it: the invitation to get together she'd been waiting for desperately. It was the invitation she prepared herself for every day by taking special care with the selection of what she wore to work, reapplying her makeup regularly to make sure she was always perfect and date-ready, checking her teeth to make sure nothing was wedged between them, and never eating garlic or onions or tuna fish at lunch.
Just then the lights were turned down for the presentation. Travis turned away to face the front of the room. The bubble of excitement rising in Chelsea's chest deflated. Damn! She started to slump and then
Behind Chelsea's docile facade, her mind was working wildly. She was sitting next to one of the senior account executives, the company hotshot, Travis. Travis was not only hot in the sense of being one of the top sales execs in the company; he was hot in the looks department, too - tall, dark and handsome. And single . And gave her "the look" from time to time, so she knew he'd noticed her, too.
She had secured this prime piece of real estate in the conference room by walking by his office prior to the meeting and opening a filing cabinet just outside his door, placing the notepad and pen she'd need at the meeting on top of it. Then she started looking among the files. Of course, there was nothing she needed from the file cabinet other than its handy proximity to Travis's office, but she gave a good show. While tickling the files, she listened to him finish his telephone conversation and hang up. She heard him mutter, "Shit," and then there was the sound of his chair rolling back on its plastic mat followed by the rattle of the chair as he stood. Now. She prepared to pounce.
Just as she closed the filing cabinet drawer, pen and pad in her other hand, he appeared in his office door. She smiled brightly at him and tossed her hair back. "Going to the meeting?"
"Yeah. You?"
"Yeah."
"Come on, the torture's just about to begin," he said, shrugging one shoulder at her and starting down the hall.
She ran to catch up with him in the tiny steps her ultra-high heels confined her to until he noticed her jogging behind him and slowed down to walk with her, asking her how she could walk in "those things" and gesturing at her feet. She giggled and said she couldn't even walk in flats she was so used to heels. She saw him take in her shape appreciatively. Good, he definitely liked curvy girls.
She followed him into the conference room and boldly sat next to him. Taking advantage of the lull after they sat, she said, "Can you believe they're calling another one of these? We just had one, like, two weeks ago."
He groaned and rolled his eyes. "Don't remind me. That was the one where they compared us to rabbits and said we were all in the same burrow, right?"
"More like we're all lemmings and we're supposed to jump off a cliff and die together."
He let out a little chuckle. "Good one."
"You know what TMB stands for, right?"
"It's the letters of the last names of three guys who started this company. I think it's...Thomas Moore and Bailey? Or is it Thomas Morehead and Bartleby?"
"No, TMB stands for Too Much Bullshit."
Travis laughed outright. "Awesome! I'll have to use that." He looked her over again. "Didn't know you had a sense of humor."
"You should see me when I really get going."
"Really?" he said, his eyes raking over her again, his smile wolfish.
He started to say something else and she leaned forward, waiting for it: the invitation to get together she'd been waiting for desperately. It was the invitation she prepared herself for every day by taking special care with the selection of what she wore to work, reapplying her makeup regularly to make sure she was always perfect and date-ready, checking her teeth to make sure nothing was wedged between them, and never eating garlic or onions or tuna fish at lunch.
Just then the lights were turned down for the presentation. Travis turned away to face the front of the room. The bubble of excitement rising in Chelsea's chest deflated. Damn! She started to slump and then
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