by Lily Flowers
“Hey, he’s the one wearing the sparkly G-string,” Helena mused silently, slamming the door behind her as she retreated to the confines of her office cubbyhole.
Her ironic beam disappeared the moment she cleared the threshold of her private refuge; locking the door behind her as she plopped with a heavy sigh into the cushions of her desk chair.
Turning toward her desk, she pressed the power button on her computer and looked up a recently assigned edit in need of attention.
Yet even as she struggled to focus on the story of a Renaissance queen who spent the bulk of her time casting her castle’s underperforming interior decorators into the dungeon—and another nice little bulk of time romancing the sole designer who expressed any sort of an interest in the fairer sex—Helena found her thoughts straying in the direction of her own misbegotten romance; one shared with a man who she adored…but she wasn’t at all sure that she remotely understood.
Although Trey seemed every inch the consummate professional (and, she mused with a define blush, she’d just seen at least 7-8 of those inches up close and personal that very morning), he still insisted on romancing and seducing his employee—an inexperienced and admittedly awkward young woman who was every inch (there was that word again, she mused through clenched teeth) his opposite, in every possible way.
“Just what does Trey want with me?” she mused in silence, shaking her head from side to side as she considered their situation. “How often will he want it? And just how—ahem—vigorously? I mean, judging from that blasted lap dance, the man is dangerously flexible, to the umpteenth degree…”
Her troubled—if rather heated and strangely whimsical—meditation was disrupted by the sound of a loud, resounding knock that grazed her office door.
“Go away Irving,” she barked, head jerking sideways in an odd little tick as she voiced the name of her unhinged co-worker.
“It’s not Irving, Helena,” she immediately recognized the deep, dulcet tones of the subject of her consternation. “It’s Trey. Could we please talk?”
Helena rolled her eyes heavenward.
“I’m working, Trey,” she informed him through the door, folding her arms before her. “And I suggest that you go to your office and do the same—considering the fact that we lap danced and faux fire drilled our way through our regularly scheduled staff meeting. I swear, Trey, we sure do work in a majorly weird ass office…”
“Helena, please.” She jumped at the tone of unexpected gravity suddenly apparent in Trey’s deep, calm voice. “I have to talk to you about this situation. We need to talk things out.”
Helena shook her head—immediately pondering just how ineffectual this nonverbal move was when she was addressing a gentleman that stood on the opposite side of a locked door.
“There’s nothing to discuss, Trey,” she released on a sigh. “We just made a spectacle of ourselves in front of the entire office. And while Irving was the one that set off the false fire alarm, we were the ones setting the fire—and in a totally inappropriate place.”
“I’m well aware of that,” Trey replied, meeting her sigh with one of his own. “I’m more than aware of the unfortunate fact that I just made a complete and total spectacle of myself in the presence of my co-workers and employees. And do you know what else? I don’t care, Helena. Not one bit. I really could care less at this point about my professional reputation or, for that matter, my corporate image.”
“Not even your corporate image?” I repeated in a hushed tone, adding silently, “Whatever the frig that is.”
Trey chuckled.
“Not one bit,” he affirmed, adding in a playful tone, “Would you like to know why, Helena?”
Helena sighed.
“Maybe because you’ve cashed in your proverbial marbles to go off and live in Looney La La Land with our good friend Irving Birnbaum?” she offered.
“I heard that!” answered a whiny voice that resounded with volume from a nearby office.
“Meds, Irving! Now!” she reminded her unhinged co-worker, adding in a softer tone to her waiting supervisor, “OK Trey, I don’t feel like playing 50 Questions so I officially give up. Why on God’s green earth would you not care that the people you have to supervise and work with every single day just saw you out in broad delight wearing a pair of stripper undies?”
Trey guffawed outright.
“Well just open the door, dear Helena,” he coaxed her in a voice low and sweet, “and I’d be more than pleased to tell you.”
Standing immediately from her seat, Helena approached her office door with sleek, confident strides; determined not to be charmed, swayed, or otherwise persuaded by the demon seed in a G-string.
“Demon Seed in a G-string,” she repeated quietly to herself, adding as she pursed her lips in a keen show of contemplation, “I do believe I have an idea for a new hit romance series at Elmhurst Publishing.”
Still and all, she vowed that she would not allow herself to fall once again beneath the seductive spell of her handsome, endlessly charming supervisor; and that, no matter what he said to her the moment she opened her door, she would not succumb to his advances; this time she swore that she would stay strong in the face of his seduction; keeping a cool and professional veneer as she pointed out to him the folly of this romance.
Thrusting her chin high in the air and unlocking her office door, she swung it open to look her seducer straight in the eye.
“OK then,” she barked, planting her hands on her hips. “Lay it on me.”
“Oh I intend to do just that, baby.”
Sweeping her up in his muscled arms and pulling her closer than close, an enamored Trey swept her body back in a passionate flourish and claimed her lips in a full-bodied kiss. Swallowing her startled breath he thrust his tongue in her mouth; entangling it with hers as his full, moist lips continued to massage and caress her own.
For just a long, precious moment Helena leaned into his kiss; losing herself in his powerful embrace as she kissed and laved his mouth.
“Wow,” she mused vaguely, entwining her tongue with his, “I’m doing a really good job of holding my ground with this dude, staying proper and professional in the face of his advances. Stellar, even. Criminy, what cologne is he wearing? Is that Eau du Stud? That’s my bloody favorite!”
Finally she broke the kiss, staring up into his crystal blue eyes as she released on a whisper, “When I said ‘Lay it on me, Trey,’ I meant the truth,” she told him, tone soft and wistful, “but, you know, what you just did will work too—just fine.”
“Just fine indeed!”
Trey and Helena jumped upward and away from one another as they welcomed the arrival of an unwelcome visitor: the prim, grey-haired Norma Linville, who stood with arms folded before them in the hallway.
“So I guess what my boss said about you two is true,” Norma chirped, waggling her eyebrows to comical effect. “What we have on our hands here is a good ol’ fashioned office romance.”
Helena shook her head.
“I’m sorry, Norma, but I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” she told her smirking co-worker, adding as she gestured broadly between herself and Trey, “You see, the boss and I are trying out a new interactive editing technique; one in which two fully clothed editors that have absolutely, positively no genuine interest in one another try acting out a sample love scene from each romantic manuscript we review—just to make sure that each scene is factually accurate, emotionally involved, and—um—sufficiently smokin’ hawt.”
Norma nodded.
“OK then,” she allowed, adding as she turned away, “So how does the sparkly red G-string fit into the equation?”
Helena thought a moment, then nodded.
“Excellent question,” she allowed in return, adding as she grabbed Trey’s newly replaced tie and dragged him bodily into her office. “Bye, Norma.”
Closing the door behind them, Helena turned to Trey and snapped, “Now do you finally see what I’m talking about, Trey? Now do you underst
and how risky it can be to attempt an office romance?”
Trey nodded.
“I know Helena,” he allowed with a sly grin, “And, as stated earlier, I just don’t care.”
Helena sighed.
“OK then Trey, so finally I’m ready to hear the truth,” she told him. “Why don’t you care?”
She took in her breath as a smiling Trey once again swept her into his strong arms; staring deeply into her eyes as he whispered, “Because, dear Helena, I am crazy about you—and I have been hopelessly crazy about you, ever since the day we met. At this point I don’t care who knows it.” He paused here, his gaze turning reflective as he added, “My question is, Helena, why do you care? We are two single, consenting adults in a loving and responsible relationship. Why should we not share this beautiful experience with all of our friends and co-workers? Although,” he added quickly, heat suffusing his cheeks, “Showing off my sparkly red G-string may have been something of an overshare…”
“You’re right, of course,” Helena interrupted him, wrapping her arms around his muscled shoulders and gracing them with a reassuring squeeze. “And as much as I care about you, Trey, as excited as I am by you, I would love to shout it out from the rooftops—but of my apartment building, not our office building.”
Once again breaking away from her confused, frowning lover, Helena turned away from him; folding her hands behind her as she turned to stare out the crystalline panes of her corner office window. Seeming to seek answers from the luminous, crystal blue heights of the Manhattan skyline, she continued in a low, intense voice, “All of my life, Trey, I’ve had to prove myself to everyone—my family, my friends, my teachers. I’m sure they all wondered as to why such an imperfect girl as myself could expect the perfect career. Sure I was smart—but with very little in the way of money, beauty or family name to back me up, how would I ever make it in the Big Apple?”
“But you have made it, Helena,” Trey interrupted her, moving forward to place two affirming hands squarely on her broad shoulders. “Aside from being our top junior editor here at Elmhurst, you’re about to publish your first novel with us. Everyone here is endlessly impressed with you—even Irving, when he’s sufficiently medicated.”
He winced as his lover broke away from him; turning to face him with a cool, hard stare.
“I know very well that my co-workers respect me,” she allowed, adding as she raised a finger for emphasis, “And I, Trey, have earned every last bit of that respect. I’ve worked harder than I did in college, harder than I did back on the farm—harder than I’ve ever worked in my life. And I’m not going to lose that status, that good opinion of my peers, because they think I’ve slept my way to the top.”
Trey sighed.
“They won’t think that,” he insisted, adding with arms outstretched, “Look at how long we worked together before we—well, got together.”
“But they don’t know that,” Helena countered, adding as she shook her head from side to side, “And I’m sure that more than one woman at this company resents the fast track I’ve taken here—the increased hours and work load, the book contract. I even sense their resentment sometimes, Trey.”
Her lover shook his head.
“I’m sure you’re imagining things,” he insisted, adding as he folded his arms before him, “And if I do hear anyone putting you down, Helena, I’ll be sure to set them straight—though I really shouldn’t have to do so. Your great work, Helena, speaks for itself.”
Helena sighed.
“Trey, for once in my life I’m serious about something.” Helena insisted, adding through gritted teeth, “I’ll be silent for a moment so you can grow accustomed to that absolutely outrageous idea. Are we good now? OK, I’ll go on. What it boils down to, Trey, is that I’m not willing to risk something that I’ve dreamt of, worked for my entire life for to accommodate an affair that might not last.”
Trey looked at her for a long moment, then nodded short and sharp.
“Well if you hold our relationship in such low regard,” he told her, tone low and sad, “then maybe we should put things on hold until your priorities are in order.”
Helena rolled her eyes heavenward.
“Um, dude, could you do me just two small favors?” she queried, pursing her lips in a show of keen contemplation.
Trey smirked.
“What do you want now?” he sniffed. “Another lap dance?”
Helena thought a moment, then shook her head.
“That might indeed be a nice objective to pursue in the long run,” she allowed, adding with a pointed stare, “In the interim, however, please exnay on the passive aggressive attitude and the Latter Day James Dean pout—though I do admit you pull off both to very sexy effect,” she told him, adding in a softer, more sincere tone, “Trey, these last few weeks with you have been amazing—I wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world. You’re the man most gals dream of meeting; it’s just that, so many times in my life, I sat back and watched as so many of my old friends saw their dreams turned into nightmares—their lives and careers derailed by pregnancies, break ups, and ill-advised marriages. As much as I adore you, Trey, I just don’t want to get lost in you.”
Trey nodded.
“I understand what you’re saying, Helena,” he admitted with a sigh. “All too well, as a matter of fact. You see, Helena, I have a sister who also wanted to go into publishing—and, given her great love for literature, she probably would have been a far sight better at it than I am. In her senior year of college, though, she met the man of her dreams—only she never dreamed that her birth control would fail one evening as they made their mad, passionate, oh so meaningful jungle monkey love.”
Helena paused, pondering at the utter novelty of hearing a distinguished executive mouth the words, “oh so meaningful jungle monkey love.”
Finally, though, she moved forward to engage her lover in a warm, affirming hug.
“Thank you for understanding, baby,” she whispered in his ear, pulling him closer than close. “And rest assured, I still want to see you—and touch you, and drool over you, and brag about the fact that I’m dating such a hot, smart, and totally terrific guy—at least to friends with whom I don’t share office space. All I’m saying, darling, is that we need to be a little more careful.”
Trey nodded.
“So I assume, Helena, that this means no more office-based lap dances?” he queried, stroking his chin in a show of deep thought.
He jumped as Helena suddenly doubled over in a seeming show of acute and overwhelming pain.
“Gawd, no!” she hissed out, grabbing her stomach as she winced in agony.
Bracing his arms around her broad shoulders, Trey exclaimed, “Are you all right, darling? Are you having an attack of some sort? Should I call someone?”
His eyes flew wide as, in an abrupt about face, Helena took in a deep, sustaining breath and stood fully and strongly erect.
“It’s OK babe, I’m perfectly kosher,” she assured him with a shrug. “It’s just that the thought of no more office-based lap dances sent me into a momentary lapse of good health that could best be classified as that rare combination of a panic attack and a fit of deep depression—with a theoretical mild stroke thrown in for good measure.”
Throwing his head back, Trey let loose with a loud, sharp chortle that released all the tension in the room.
“No worries, darling,” he assured her, gifting her with an affectionate hug as he planted two warm lips against her still flushed cheek. “I’d still be more than pleased and honored to treat you to a lap dance in any private setting of your choice—the more private the better, as a matter of fact. I’d also love to take you out for more dinners, shows, and dancing…and I hope that you join me in wildly anticipating our impending trip to London.”
Helena smiled.
“I’m up for all of it, babe,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders and resting her head on his massive chest. “Not only am I up for it,
but I am very much looking forward to it. It’s always been my desire to visit the land of Queen Liz—and that George kid is so blasted cute, he should be illegal. I want to see Big Ben, that overblown ode to Timex, and Kew Gardens, and the Royal Shakespeare Company theatre….”
Trey chuckled.
“I love your enthusiasm, Kid, and no worries—you’ll see it all,” he affirmed, adding as he pulled her closer to him, “You’ll also see yourself on the cover of your very own Victorian romance novel.”
“I know right?” Helena squealed, clapping her hands before her. “I still wish, though, that you would pose on the cover with me.”
Trey shrugged.
“Well, unfortunately, I can’t make that happen dear,” he bit his lip, adding as he waggled his eyebrows, “What I’d be more than willing and able to do, however, is help you research any and all future love scenes in the privacy of our deluxe, luxurious London hotel room.”
Helena froze.
“Our hotel room?” she repeated, adding as she felt her cheeks flush, “I mean, I suppose that in the wake of an office-based lap dance, flushing may seem redundant at this point, but…”
Trey chuckled, but only briefly.
“We don’t have to stay together, of course. I can reserve separate rooms for you, Blaine, Irving and me…”
Helena’s playful beam dissolved as she considered these last words.
“Irving is coming with us to England?” she asked through gritted teeth, afraid that this time she’d suffer a real live panic attack, as opposed to the ‘faux fit’ she’d staged moments beforehand. “Have you taken complete leave of your foxy senses, Trey? Surely he’s on a ‘no fly’ list somewhere in the world…”
“Believe me, babe, I’ve checked,” Trey assured her, holding his hands up before him in what seemed a defensive stance. “Irving has a clean record. And as a part of his contract, he insists on being personally flown to any cover shoots and other photo and publicity sessions that concern ‘his’ books. Flown first class, mind you—and one time said photo shoot was only 5 miles away from our corporate offices.”
