By Timothy Lantz

To be honest, I never really paid any attention to Jill. She was relatively new to the office and my daily routine rarely provided any reason to interact with her. On top of that, I’m not exactly what you would call an "office socializer"either, preferring to serve my nine-to-five sentence and get the hell out of there. I guess that’s why I was so surprised when she stopped me in the hall.

I was returning to my desk after a brief, but fruitless, examination of the vending machine when she appeared at the edge of my vision. Normally, such passing was like channel-surfing, pausing only briefly to recognize the program and then continuing on your way, maybe with a contrived, but polite, smile thrown in for courtesy. However, upon seeing me, she stopped dead in her tracks.

Fearing I had inadvertently intruded somehow, I looked her in the eye, ready to offer an apology for whatever act I had unknowingly committed. Instead of scorn however, I found a pleasant smile drawn across her lips

It was a look I was totally unprepared for. In fact, it quite literally froze me to the point of embarrassed awkwardness. I paused momentarily and offered a sheepish grin to match her countenance.

When she failed to speak, I became aware that my presence seemed to be having the exact same effect on her. So, we stood there silently smiling, each pouring over an endless list of programmed small talk trying to identify a proper noncommittal remark, which, after serving its purpose, would allow us to continue on our respective paths.

As fate would have it, my mental query of the social office index, happened to register a response first.

"How do you like your new desk?" I offered.

It was only a casual remark, meant to show that I was up on the latest office happenings, even if, only superficially. You see, recently, Jill and I had been caught up in the constant of inter-office migrations, which seem to occur with the regularity of the rainy season in South America. Although, this burden of displacement is not wholly without reward, for once given your marching orders, you do get to spend a considerable amount of the company’s money buying new furnishings—the hope of course being that a new desk or filing cabinet will make your new, windowless, drab, office, more appealing than the old, windowless, drab, office.

"Great." She responded and that was that. I fully expected to be on my way, but that’s when things took yet another unexpected turn. "Have you seen it?"

She left the question hanging there. It was clearly an invitation.

I examined her face closely looking for any indication of an ulterior motive. She still wore that smile, although there was a slight quiver in her lip. I got the impression she was maybe regretting her words, or, more likely, unsure of my reaction and that it was making her nervous.

"No." I stated as an acceptance of her offer.

Her faith restored, she beamed and motioned for me to follow. "Come on."

I stood a moment as she passed me, then, followed into step behind. As we negotiated the rest of the hallway, I found myself taking an in-depth look at her for the first time.

Her hair was shoulder length and the same mousy brown as my own, though with a slight natural wave, too loose to be defined as curls. She was shorter than me and perhaps a little too thin, her upper body, clad in a tight fitting, black, long-sleeved shirt, melted into her hips seamlessly, having no trouble with the transition as they disappeared into a pair of men’s styled dress pants. It was certainly not a look most women could carry, but for her it seemed to work in that, I just graduated from art school kind of way. I’d even go so far as to say cute, while still remaining professional enough for the suits upstairs.

As we entered her office, my eyes fell away from her and took in the room itself. It was a corner office, and a little on the small side, but she was one of the lucky few to actually have a window. Because of that, the room was flooded with a ray of natural light, which had a kind of otherworldly effect on the space. I could even see the dust waltzing in the sunlight.

In the corner, two lush, green plants hinted of a sensuality which, when combined with the faux wood finish of the furniture, seemed to conceal the harsh reality of the workplace. Instantly, I found myself envious. She had found a way to make her space so much more inviting than the sterile technology strewn room I occupied. It was like I had stepped away from work and discovered a secret garden.

"Well," she motioned toward the desk. "Here it is."

The desk was finished in the same wood grain style and extended the length of the far wall, while conforming to the corner in what looked like the letter "L" turned upside down. I glanced over it quickly, taking stock of the usual items—computer, printer, phone.

"Very nice," I stated genuinely.

A small two drawer filing cabinet was tucked under the eve of the longer portion of the desk’s surface although; it peeked out just enough that I began to wonder whether it was part of the desk or a separate piece. Curiosity, and perhaps the need for having anything to say at this moment, soon prompted another question.

"Does that pull out? It looks like it could be a writing surface of some kind."

I could see the enlightenment as it flashed across her face and seemingly, she appeared to be attuned to my line of thought. "I suppose it could. It’s a separate piece." She bent over to work it out for herself.

At that point, I was watching only out of casual interest, but as she leaned over, her shirt gently pulled out of the waist of her slacks. Completely innocent, the black knit inched up revealing a small patch of pale white flesh on her lower back. My eyes gently followed the curve of her spine as it dovetailed into the now exposed waistband of her underwear.

Suddenly, I became aware how inappropriate this was, and yet, I was enraptured. I could clearly see the panty lines through the material of her slacks, defining the curves of her body. My mind took flight in that instance. The sunlight, the plants, and the illicit thrill of seeing her bare skin all became overpowering.

She proceeded to pull the cabinet out. "You were right." She stated afterwards, standing fully once more.

Her voice was deep and throaty, the kind of sandpapery voice that belonged to starlets in old black and white movies. At first, it was like a bucket of cold water, waking me from a dream. As her words continued however, they began to pull me under. It was clear that I had to get out of there, if only to avoid embarrassing myself.

"Yeah, look at that. I always seem to run out of writing space. With the amount of paper we waste here everyday, you’d think the whole building would be gift wrapped by now."

She laughed. It was a short, giddy, little laugh, but it was honest and not just for show. I was really skating now.

"Well, I guess I ought to get back. Publications needs those graphics."

She frowned a little. Her disappointment obvious and another dagger aimed at my emotions.

I was starting to panic now. This kind of thing just doesn't happen to me, and I wasn't sure how to react. The impulse to flee, fall back and regroup took over. I turned to leave.

"Hey," her voice called me back. "Barbara and I were heading to lunch later if you..."

"I." The words suddenly seized in my throat. "I already have plans. Meeting a friend..."

"Another time?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Just let me know." And with that, I turned and ran for my life.