The BACHELORETTE Project (The Project: LESLEE Series)

by Tami Anthony

  “You know what, Minnie?” I say as I stand up from my chair. “You’re right. I’m going to go into Mr. Thomas’ office and get that position. I don’t have to be some whore to get what I want. I’m a strong, independent woman! A powerful woman, hear me roar!” I shout loudly as I’m hyped up from Minnie’s inspirational speech. “I can do this.”

  “You can do this,” she reassures me and I nod uncontrollably.

  “I can totally do this,” I say, “right after I get some coffee.” I rush out of my office and into the break room. I can do this, I think to myself. I can absolutely do this. I will … do … THIS!

  “Ms. Robinson,” I hear a male voice say behind me and I’m startled.

  “Good morning, Mr. Thomas,” I say, smiling. “How are you today?”

  “Doing very well, thank you for asking,” he says as he reaches for the coffee pot. Ugh, I can just smell the Old Spice on his body. It’s overwhelming and almost unmanageable. I begin to cough.

  “Are you OK, Leslee?” he asks me as he pats my back. He’s so old looking and wrinkly. He’s so pudgy, too. How come I never noticed this stuff before? Oh yeah, that’s right. Because I never stood close enough to him to notice it. He almost reminds me of those perverted looking men on those Viagra commercials. I … can’t … breathe. Old … Spice … overload.

  “I’m fine, Mr. Thomas,” I say trying to catch my breath. “I just have bad asthma.” I’m such a liar because I don’t have asthma. His cologne is absolutely killing me.

  “OK, well I guess I can interview you now before I go to court,” he tells me. “You want to meet me in my office in, let’s say, five minutes?”

  “Yes,” I’m able to blurt out. “Five minutes is fine.”

  “Great,” he says. “And if you could bring those deposition transcripts to me that would be appreciated.”

  “Of course,” I cough out. “Of course.”

  “OK,” he says, smiling. It’s like he was undressing me with his eyes. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m just paranoid. Maybe he’s not an old perv like the other lawyers in this firm.

  He leaves the break room and I’m able to breathe again. Old Spice should be illegal. I could’ve died from his stench. Doesn’t he know not to take showers in his cologne? Tisk, tisk.

  I walk back to my office and sit down for a minute trying to sort out the deposition transcripts. This is it! I think to myself. The big interview day! You can do this. You can totally do this! “All right, Minnie,” I say. “I’m going to my interview now.” I pick up my papers and walk toward the door.

  “Kick some ass, Leslee!” she yells after me.

  “Yes,” I say to myself. “I’m going to kick some major ass … like a football. Kick it like a football …” OK, so now I’m getting nervous. Just a bit. My palms are sweating and I begin to shake. I can do this. I CAN do this. In the words of Barack Obama, “Yes … We Can!”

  I walk through the office halls and knock on Mr. Thomas’ door. “Come in,” I hear him say and I enter his office. “Hi, Leslee,” he greets me as he motions to the chairs in front of his desk. “Please, have a seat.”

  “Thank you,” I say as I sit down. I place the papers on his desk. “These are the depos that you wanted me to look over, and some other work from Friday.”

  He quickly looks through the papers with a questionable look on his face. “It seems that there are a few things missing.”

  “I can go get it,” I say eagerly. “It’s no problem. I’m sure they are still on my desk.”

  “No worries,” he says as he rises from his chair. “You can get those to me later.” He walks over to his office door and shuts it. Mr. Thomas smiles. It kinda looks like a pedo-smile? I don’t know. Something about him is just so … creepy. “We’ll need a little privacy I’m sure.”

  “For the interview, of course,” I say.

  “Yeah … for the interview.” He proceeds to take off his suit jacket and throws it on his chair. He sits on the edge of his desk right in front of me. I gulp. “So tell me why you think that you are the best candidate for the senior paralegal position?”

  I can’t concentrate. I can’t concentrate! Not when Mr. Thomas’ crotch is about a foot and a half from my face! “I, um …” I clear my throat. “I believe that I would be a great senior paralegal because …” He leans his face in toward me. I back away. “Because I am a hard worker. I’m smart, dedicated, and I possess the leadership skills that can lead our team of paralegals toward success … amongst other things.”

  “Hmm …” he says as he rubs his chin. “That’s interesting.”

  “Yes,” I reply nervously. “And also, I’m experienced, I’m well-educated, and my work ethics are genuine and fair. I can be a positive motivator for others in this office.”

  “I see,” he says as he stares at my breasts. Is it just me or do I have the right to feel violated in this very moment? “You look nervous,” he says and laughs. He jumps off his desk and pulls two glasses and a bottle of Scotch from his shelf. “You need a drink.”

  “Oh, no thank you,” I reply. “It’s only ten o’clock in the morning. Plus, I don’t drink Scotch. It makes me a little nauseous.”

  “Nonsense!” he says to me as he pours himself a drink. He sits back down at the edge of his desk, his crotch still way too close to my face. “A little drink never hurt anyone.” He takes a sip and places the drink on his desk. “Tell me again why you would be great for this position?” Mr. Thomas is looking at me as if he wants to eat me alive in that overly sexual way. It’s a little bit scary … and quite disgusting.

  “I was saying that I can be a motivator, and that I’m a hard worker,” I repeat.

  He licks his lips and stares at mine. “Yes, a hard worker.” I can’t help but to look down and notice the obvious erection in his pants. Ugh, I hate men. Are they always thinking about sex? “So, what other positions would you be interested in at this firm, that is if you aren’t offered the senior paralegal position?” The position that is far away from you, I think to myself.

  “You know, I never really thought of that,” I say as I try to nonchalantly scoot my chair away from him. “I, um, like my job, but I believe that becoming your senior paralegal would be a great opportunity for me.” He stands up from the desk and strokes my face lightly with his finger. I feel my body shiver with fear and disgust as I turn my face away and begin fake coughing furiously on his hand. He pulls away. “Sorry, my asthma can be vicious at times.”

  “Would you be willing to do anything for the position?” he says in the most perverted way possible.

  “Yes,” I say quickly without thinking. “No, I mean, no,” I reply nervously. “I believe that I can compete for this position in a fair manner and earn this position in the most respectful way that I can.”

  “Oh,” he says disappointedly. He walks back to the chair behind his desk. He puts out his hand to shake mine. “Well, thank you for your time, Leslee. I hate to rush you out of here, but I do have to be at court in thirty minutes, and you know how traffic can be in this city. Just to let you know, I do have other candidates who are interested in the position as well so you may have some heavy competition. I will let you know how it goes.”

  “Thank you for your consideration,” I say as I rise from my chair. “I really appreciate it.”

  “No, thank you,” he says as I walk toward the door. I want to say something to him about how inappropriate it was for him to cop an erection directly in front of my face, but I can’t. I don’t want to lose the job that I have. Besides, maybe he wasn’t trying to do anything. Maybe he was just being a man—a really perverted man.

  I exit his office and shut the door behind me. I take a deep breath. That wasn’t as hard—difficult as I thought it would be. It could’ve been worse. He could’ve just pulled his pants down in front of me and tried to shove his thing in my mouth—sexual harassment as its finest—or worse.

  I walk into my office like a zombie and sit down in my desk chair. I stare at m
y blank computer screen trying to rethink my situation. “Sooooo, how’d it go?” Minnie asks me. “Did you get the promotion?”

  “No,” I say. “I don’t know … maybe?” She walks over to my desk and starts waving her hands in front of me. “What?”

  “It looks like you’ve just seen a ghost,” she tells me.

  “It’s nothing,” I say. “I just …” I’m speechless. “I, um, I think I need a vacation.”

  “Okay …” Minnie says and walks back to her desk.

  The missing paperwork! I think to myself. If I put it in his office now while he’s at court, I will never have to run into him, Mr. Thomas … and little Thomas, Jr. I don’t want to be reminded of his little erection (little being the key word) and I would like to save myself the embarrassment. Maybe Minnie could …

  “Minnie, do you mind if you could just run these papers to Mr. Thomas’ office for me?” I ask her. “I have some work to do,” I say slowly, “on … my … computer.” My blank computer screen.

  She rises from her seat and shakes her head. “No can do,” she tells me. “Right now I’m scheduled for my third break of the day.” She picks up her coffee cup and exits our office. Shit! I think to myself. What if the perv didn’t leave yet? I sigh. I just pick up the missing paperwork and walk toward his office, almost striding. I hate my life. I really do hate my life … right now, that is. I take a deep breath and open the door to his office. I gasp in pure horror and shut my eyes quickly.

  Do my eyes deceive me? I ask myself. Did I just see a visual of Mr. Thomas getting ORAL sex…on his desk? No, it can’t be. He’s married…with children in college! No. I open my eyes again to verify the visual and hope to God that I’m wrong. Oh, God! I am right! I’m officially scarred for life! The horror! The horror!

  “Oh, God!” I say, gasping as the papers in my hand hit the floor. Mr. Thomas opens his eyes to spot me then tries to zipper up his pants quickly.

  “Leslee, what are you doing here?!” he asks me. “Did you knock?”

  “Yes, um, I mean no, I, um, don’t know?” I stutter. “I just wanted to drop off the missing paperwork while you were at court. I didn’t know that you would have—” Just then, my worse nightmare happens. The mystery woman turns around in her chair and wipes off her dirty, probably disease-infested mouth. My eyes widen. “Chloe?” I say. Why should I even be surprised?

  “Hi, Leslee,” she replies slyly. What … a … whore! I think to myself. She’s just casually blowing her way to the top, literally.

  I try to cover up my eyes and pick up the papers from the ground. “I’m sorry, Mr. Thomas. I am so sorry! So utterly sorry!”… and disgusted for that matter. How can people stoop so incredibly low?

  I place the papers on his desk and rush out of his office shutting the door as quickly as I can. I grab my chest. I can’t breathe. I have no words, no words whatsoever. I didn’t see anything, I tell myself. I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary at all…I DID NOT SEE CHLOE CURANO GIVING OUR BOSS A BLOW JOB! I will act as if it never happened at all except the fact that my mind will be continually interrupted all day by this horrid image, an image that I will want to shake out of my mind but it will stay there only to torture me. The other thing that I won’t be able to shake out of my mind is the fact that I’m now out of the running for the promotion that I longed for. The opportunity of becoming senior paralegal for one of the most prestigious law firms in the city is completely out of my hands. This opportunity might as well take a plane ride to Fiji because that’s how far it is away from me. If only I was as “giving” as Chloe is. God knows how disgustingly sloppy and skanky she looked sitting in that office chair, the chair that I sat in for my interview, with her stocking torn, shirt unbuttoned … ugh! I don’t even want to think about it! And what really ticks me off is that even if I wanted to stoop as low as that skank has, I truly believe that I would’ve done a much better job … literally speaking. But, gross! Just the thought of it! I couldn’t! I wouldn’t! I’m a freakin’ lady for crying out loud!

  I walk back to my office and think. What should I do now? Should I blackmail him, convince him to give me the position instead of her? I could tell his wife, announce his scandalous ways to the public, and completely ruin his creditability. If only I had proof. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t tell something like this to his wife … and his children. I couldn’t ruin people’s lives like that.

  Pacing back and forth, I bite my nails nervously, not knowing what to think at this point. I want to be evil and vindictive by exposing his little secret, but I want to fair and non-judgmental; professional. People have urges, even if they are in the office. But, people have rights, too, and I have the right to—

  “Boo!” Minnie shouts loudly behind me and I jump.

  “Don’t do that!” I say to her. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  She sips her coffee and laughs. “Why are you so uptight? It was just an interview.”

  “Yes, it was just an interview,” I say quickly. “I don’t know anything.” I sit down at my desk and pretend as if I’m working. Minnie doesn’t buy my act.

  “Hmm …” she says with a questionable look on her face. “You know something, don’t you?”

  “I know nothing.”

  “The fact that you just said that you don’t know anything means that you know something so tell me what you know.” Minnie’s eyes widen and a huge grin erupts on her face. “You got the promotion, didn’t you?”

  “I told you earlier that I don’t know,” I say, annoyed that she keeps asking me the same thing.

  “You know you probably did.” She elbows me playfully. “You must have had a good impression on ol’ Thomas, didn’t you?”

  “Some better than others,” I reply as the secretary enters our office.

  “Leslee,” she says, “Mr. Thomas wants to see you again.”

  “Oh, a second interview!” Minnie gloats. “Go get ‘em, tiger!” She winks at me.

  What does he want, a threesome?! I think to myself. It will never happen! I don’t have sex with middle-aged men and dirty people. It’s disturbing and unsanitary. If he thinks he’s getting some of me too, well then he is sadly mistaken. I am Leslee Robinson, not some easy whore.

  “Does he really have to see me now?” I ask hoping that this isn’t at all about the … incident.

  The secretary nods her head. “He insisted that he will speak to you now about a very important matter.” Matter meaning he’s a perv—a nasty, diluted perv.

  “Very well,” I answer. “I will be right there.” She leaves the office and I feel like screaming. Shit! Shit! Shit! I think to myself. Why?! Why?! Why?! Can’t we just act like it never happened? I can bypass the fact that he’s a nasty cheater and she’s a homewrecking whorebag. I wish I could just go back in time and had never gone into his office in the first place.

  Deep breath, I tell myself. Everything will be fine. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’m not wrong! They are wrong!

  I walk back to Mr. Thomas’ office and knock on the door … again. “Come in,” I hear him say from the outside. Cum is right! I think to myself. Nasty office freak! With my hands wrapped in a ball in front of me, I enter his office and see the array of pictures and papers on the floor. Ugh, they totally did it on his desk. And they did it rather quickly, too. How can they possibly enjoy something like that so quickly? I swear it must’ve have only been like five minutes since I saw him—them in his office.

  He motions to the chairs in front of his desk. “You want to sit?”

  “No, I think I’ll be OK standing,” I reply nervously. “Is something wrong with the deposition transcripts I turned into you?”

  “No,” he answers.

  “Oh, OK,” I say, turning to the door. “So I can just go, right?”

  “No,” he jumps up from his chair and shuts the office door. “We need to talk.”

  “Are you sure? Because I can really just walk out right now and act like nothing happened today
,” I ramble. “As far as I’m concerned, I did not see anything, you are still happily married, and we can both move on with our lives … our very, very innocent lives.”

  He sighs. “I don’t think that I can do that, Leslee.”

  “In fact, I can help you clean up,” I reply cheerily. I begin to gather the papers and pictures from the floor. “See, Mr. Thomas! Nothing ever happened! NO EVIDENCE!” I smile nervously. “No evidence at all.”

  “I’m sorry, Leslee, but I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” I ask, almost begging for him to forget that I was even there. “I’ve forgotten about it already! I’m not going to blackmail you for the promotion, even though I thought about it; I truly thought about it.”

  “Well, that doesn’t matter anyway,” he tells me. “You didn’t get the promotion. Chloe did.”

  I gasp. “But why?” I whine. “I told you that I’m smart, I’m educated, I’m a motivator, all that ‘feel good’ interview stuff that people like to hear. Why give it to her and not me?”

  “She does good work around here,” he starts.

  “I bet she does,” I reply sarcastically.

  “And she has her master’s from Harvard.” And what would that be in: the concentration of blow jobs? The concentration of using sexual manipulation to get her way?

  “That’s not at all just, Mr. Thomas,” I argue. “I work hard. You know I do! I’m a great worker!”

  “And you have a bachelor’s whereas she has a master’s. It was an easy decision for me to make.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Fair enough … can I leave now?”

  “No, I did want to talk to you about what you saw.”

  “Sure, how you cheated on your wife,” I say. “The wife that brings you lunch every other day, the wife that has given you two beautiful children, the wife that has more than likely been faithful to you through the years. Is that the same wife that you would like to talk about, the one that you betrayed?” At this point, I’m just bitter. He didn’t give that promotion to Chloe because of her education. He gave it to her because she’s just as low as he is; a scumbag, the scum of the freakin’ Earth.