by R. S. Elliot
At least, not right now.
Our photo session stretched on for nearly an hour, our little spat and indiscretion accounted for. By the time she was finished, I was sure she had adjusted me at least fifty times. Standing still for a photograph was surprisingly tiring, and I began to regret tossing the coffee Emily brought. I hadn’t meant to be insulting, but I didn’t see any use for it, and there were more important things going on than breakfast, so I discarded it the way I would anything that didn’t serve me. But Emily seemed upset about not just the waste but of my disregard for her effort, for her. Her fiery spirit was even more enticing to me than the way her lashes shuttered her huge blue eyes when she was feeling shy. Keeping my hands to myself might prove a more challenging endeavor than I had expected.
“Well,” Emily said, flipping through the last couple of shots on her digital camera. “I think I’ve got plenty to work with now. I’ll do some basic editing and pull together five or six to show at the press meeting if you’d like.”
“Perfect,” I said. “Can you stay? Our in-house team will be here in twenty or so.”
“Stay? You want me here for the meeting?”
“Of course,” I said smoothly. “I’m not very well going to show off your work and not show you off as well.”
This brought a little color into her cheeks, and I had to admit I loved having such a visceral effect on her. I wondered what else I could do to bring a flush of color to her face and her mouth.
Emily lowered herself gently onto the edge of a chair. She looked like she didn’t know what to do with herself like she was scrambling for a way to show gratitude.
“It’s really not any trouble,” I continued, hoping that my words would smooth over the two little lines of concern that had gathered between her eyebrows.
“Thank you for the opportunity,” she said at last. There was a sea of emotion swirling behind those blue eyes, deep enough that I could get lost and drown in them if I didn’t watch my step. “I appreciate you bringing me on like this.”
Her sincerity caught me off guard. I was used to people thanking me profusely for interviews or positions, and people telling me that working at SkyBlue had changed their life or launched their career. But Emily seemed so earnest, so tentative. I hadn’t thought about how precarious things were for her, as a college student with no work experience trying to make a living in one of the toughest cities in the world. People in her position didn’t get opportunities like this every day, and while I hadn’t thought twice about involving a photographer in a high-level marketing meeting, it was the sort of experience most students would kill for.
“Of course,” I said, and I was surprised at how soft my voice came out sounding. I rarely had much of time for emotions; mine or other people’s. “You’re very talented, and you come highly recommended by Olivia. The photographs you’ve shown me so far are good; you deserve to be here.”
For a moment, I thought she might cry, and the urge to rush over and wrap her up in my arms overtook me. I resisted, pulling my fingers into fists in my pockets with effort, but soon she was composed again.
“Great. I’m excited.”
My press team arrived just on time, with representatives from the marketing and public relations department sitting at the ready to draft releases and brainstorm brand campaigns. While some CEOs only got involved with public-facing issues once other departments reached their consensus and brought materials over for review, I liked to meet with my team monthly to keep my fingers on the pulse of what was going on.
Emily lingered by the semicircle of chairs beside my desk, looking stiff and spooked as the team filed in. I could see that a bustling morning had already begun in the office. I could see the activity outside every time the door swung open, and a member of the press team entered. Oliva was already at her desk, on the phone with someone while she jotted notes down on a pad.
I shook hands with marketing and PR people and made the usual rounds of hellos and how are yous, then gestured over to Emily.
“This is Emily Greenwater. She’s one of our newest hires from NYU, and she’ll be working closely with me on some photography projects in the future. I asked her to sit in and show us some of the content she’s got. We might be able to use it in the Dallas press releases.”
Everyone smiled at her and murmured their introductions. Each of the seven or eight people gathered shook her hand. Anyone could see that she was young, probably too young to get a spot at a table like this. Since I had introduced her, she had automatic credibility in a room filled with industry veterans. Her smiles were nervous, and she had the tight body language of a teenage girl out on her first date, but she managed to be charming all the same as she sank into one of the leather chairs. I took the seat beside her, close enough to comfort her and far enough away that she wouldn’t feel I was looming over her. I was also just far enough away that I couldn’t easily touch her, which seemed like the safest bet under the circumstances.
“How are we coming along on the Dallas project?” I asked, getting the ball rolling on the morning’s itinerary. These meetings tended to skew towards everyone talking over each other and bouncing ideas off each other, but we had ostensibly gathered to discuss the scheduled opening of a second SkyBlue location in Dallas next year. The company was growing at an exponential rate, demanding new offices and new manufacturers outside of New York City. Dallas had been an excellent decision both financially and geographically, but the good people of Texas still needed to be convinced that SkyBlue was a net good to Dallas so they would send their best and brightest to apply for our jobs.
“Early focus groups show that it’s important to people in our target demographic to feel as though they have some kind of personal connection to a company,” one of my best market behaviorists said. She was sitting in a clump with many of my other guests at the end of a rectangular glass table, flipping through graphs. “People want to feel like the corporation they get their car from has a real human face.”
“Me,” I said.
“That’s right,” one of the higher-ups from PR said. “You’ve been getting a lot of amazing press about your financial profile and work on SkyBlue, and more local outlets have done more personal explorations of your life as well, but Dallas will want to get to know the man behind the company a bit before opening their arms to you. We were thinking maybe a flyby tour of the city? You wouldn’t have to stay long, shake some hands, meet with some local business owners, be seen eating at some local joints.”
“That’s not a bad idea, but I just can’t swing travel right now, not with the launch bearing down on us. Scratch that.”
“What about another photoshoot?” Another public relations expert asked. “We could do something personable, really naturalistic. Maybe include photos with a signed personal letter to the people of Dallas.”
“That’s more like what I was thinking.” I glanced over to Emily, indicating with my eyes that I would be talking about her soon. She remained silent and rapt throughout the entire conversation, sometimes taking notes on a little pink pad she pulled out of her purse. “We were actually experimenting with some test shots. I think they’ll give you a sense of what I’d like to see in the new press releases.”
The head of advertising took off her wire-rim glasses and set them down on the table, nodding to me with a jut of her chin. She was a severely editorial looking woman immaculately dressed in white and navy, and Emily had been hazarding terrified glances in her direction ever since we sat down.
“Let’s see them. You have prints?”
She was speaking to Emily now, not to me, and I kept silent to give my newly ascended intern room to speak. For a second I thought she would clam up and choke, but then she retrieved her laptop and pulled up a couple of the photos she had selected as examples and done a quick editing pass on in the ten minutes or so we had between the photo shoot and the press meeting.
“No, but I’ve got a few test shots.”
She took the computer fr
om Emily and studied the photographs hard for a moment. One of her assistants glanced over her shoulder, raising her eyebrows.
“You took these?” The head of advertising asked, looking over to the both of us. Emily looked a little pale, but she nodded and said,
“Just this morning.”
I was proud of her. It was good that she didn’t minimize her work or let others take credit for what she had done.
“These are good,” the older woman pronounced. “You’ve got a great eye for light. You even made Luke look like he wasn’t in a terrible mood when you took them, so well done in that regard.”
There was a smattering of light laughter, and Emily smiled as well, but I saw that there was more than levity behind her eyes. She was profoundly affected by the compliment. I wondered how many other professionals had even seen her work, much less complimented its composition. I had never been an artist of any kind, but I knew New York City could be brutal to artists, who had to beg, borrow, and burn themselves out to get any recognition.
Underneath the table, I reached out and lightly squeezed Emily’s bare knee. It was a fleeting touch, one that I hoped didn’t come across as too unprofessional considering the circumstances. I wanted her to know that I was proud of her, that she was worth all the acclaim.
Emily’s leg jolted underneath the table, and her eyes flicked to me in surprise. They were practically glowing with warm radiance, and I found, to my dismay, that I wanted to kiss her just as badly as I had an hour ago when she was staring me down defiantly, her camera in her hands.
Now I withdrew my hand to my lap where it couldn’t wander and cause any more trouble. The marketing meeting continued around us, with members of my team sipping their coffees and discussing what the best way to introduce SkyBlue to the people of Dallas was. They wanted the company to make the right impression as it opened up its second headquarters in Texas, and they wanted it to feel like an integrated part of the local cityscape as soon as possible.
The meeting flowed naturally from there, and to my delight, Emily even took part in some of the conversations, tentatively at first but then with increasing enthusiasm. She had the good sense not to comment on things she knew nothing about and to ask questions when she didn’t understand something, which I appreciated immensely. She didn’t seem to consider herself either a stupid person or one who was too good to learn anything new.
Eventually, a press release and personal letter were decided on that would feature one of the photographs Emily had captured of me. It was a far cry from any of the pictures that were usually seen of me in the press. Instead of positioning me in a traditional stance of power, Emily had instructed me to hold my body comfortably, and she had snapped a photo of me when I was laughing at something she said to me. In the photo, I was leaning against my desk, one hand adjusting the cufflinks on a sleeve while I smiled with genuine amusement. My eyes, I knew, were fixed just out of frame on Emily’s face. I still looked powerful but radiated a friendlier, man-of-the-house air, not like I was getting ready to go bring down a competitor. I had only been to Dallas once and was staggered by how often people smiled, greeted each other, and talked to absolute strangers. They would probably appreciate this picture.
After a game plan had been decided on, everyone stood, straightened their skirts and slacks, and tossed out their empty coffee cups before milling around the room. A few people stopped to chat with Emily before they made for the door, and her face lit up when they asked about her photography studies or how long she worked for SkyBlue. I couldn’t help but watch out of the corner of my eye, even as I shook hands with colleagues. She was radiant in every way, and I was filled with a ferocious pride to see her win the appreciation of jaded old advertising execs. There was certainly more to her than met the eye, and the eye had plenty to work with.
A few minutes later, we were finally alone again, just Emily and I. The voices of the press team faded down the hallways as I watched her tangle and untangle her fingers nervously. She didn’t know whether she could go. Or maybe she didn’t want to. Was she reluctant to leave the private world we had formed together in the early morning hours?
“You were wonderful,” I said.
Emily hooked a long strand of fiery hair behind her ear, smiling shyly. She was incandescent when she smiled; it made her eyes catch the light and gleam.
“I didn’t really do anything.”
“Yes, you did,” I insisted. My voice was low, careful not to be overheard by Olivia sitting at her desk outside. What was I afraid of? I was just an employer complimenting his employee on a job well done, wasn’t I? So why did I feel like there was indiscretion in the air like something was going on that shouldn’t be revealed to the outside world? “I threw you in with people way out of your paygrade, and you were poised and articulate. Your photographs deserve the praise they got.”
“Thank you,” she said softly. She was standing so close to me with one hand crossed over her chest, gripping her upper arm. She looked so vulnerable, half-hugging herself in the big, empty office like she had the night the carjackers had left her rattled. I ached to take her into my arms, to show her in every way imaginable that she was worthy. I wanted her to feel safe, and I wanted her to open herself up to me.
“Of course.”
I moved closer to her against my will; I couldn’t stand to be so far from her. I gently cupped her cheek in my hand, fingers disappearing into her curtain of red hair, and her eyes flickered up to mine in soft surprise. Why was it so hard to keep my hands off her, even though I promised myself I would? Emily made a soft sighing sound and shifted closer me, and before I knew what was happening, her mouth was warm and insistent on mine.
I cupped her face in both hands, losing myself in her warmth and her sugared white floral perfume. Her body against mine was soft and supple, pressing in with delicious heat as I deepened the kiss, drowning in the taste of her. Her small hands roamed across my chest, sending electricity coursing through my body. When she moaned my name, the sound vibrated over my lips and through my chest. I knew we were both fucked.
“Say that again,” I said, my voice coming rough.
“Luke,” she said. There was a little whine in her voice that sent a shudder through me, and I couldn’t hold myself back anymore. I wrapped my arms around her waist and hoisted her slight frame up. Her legs latched around my waist as she gave herself over to me, chasing my kisses with her own urgency. I carried her to the corner of my desk and devoured her neck and collarbone with kisses while her fingers fumbled with the buttons on my shirt.
“I want you,” I growled into her neck, as directly and with as much command as I showed towards everything else in my life. “I’ve wanted you since I met you.”
Emily could hardly manage words since my fingers were now circling her secret hot center through her panties, but she nodded vigorously and pulled me in for another kiss. I knew that this was wrong, that I shouldn’t be undressing my nineteen-year-old intern on my desk in the middle of the workday, but we were past the point of no return now. This wasn’t going to be finished until we both were.
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