It was early on Tuesday morning and the grey rain had begun to pour down on London. I walked into the office kitchen. He was standing by the window, tucking his soaking shirt into his trousers. I tiptoed behind him, trying to avert my eyes, and reached for the paper bag with my days worth of juice on the table beside him.
It's not the first time we'd met in the kitchen, but every time we met we just blanked each other.
Mark is hot - I mean, he's not just my office cutie, he is fantastically hot - but he works in a different department - a department which is not considered to be as sexy as mine - and departments don't mix in our corporate hierarchy.
But this time I dropped the cool act and mustered up the courage to speak. The silence was too awkward to ignore.
'So, er, you got a bit wet then...'
He laughed, 'Yeah, it caught me unexpected',
I smiled and held my breath. He was standing at the other end of the kitchen, sopping wet. I couldn't take my eyes off him. I wanted to push him up against the wall there and then and fuck him.
'I was gonna take a shower but I don't think I'm gonna bother.
I laughed again, 'Nah, you definitely don't need a shower...'
Shit. I wanted to fuck him right there. He's so classically beautiful, all sleek lines and fresh skin. God I was hungry.
It's a shame that the different departments never mix socially or otherwise - it makes cross-departmental hook-ups very hard to initiate. I've passed him in the kitchen again since, but I've been such a puffy, bulimic bitch this last week that I couldn't bear to talk to him. I didn't want him looking at me. If I spoke to him, he'd have to look at me. So to my relief, we continued to ignore each other all over again.
I need - I have primal needs.
This week I had my first business trip for the company. I woke up to a beautiful bright morning in Copenhagen to find an email on my work Blackberry:
Exotic is one word for it! Top work with getting some experience out this side of the world, it will definitely speak volumes on your application.
...I had called him exotic in my last email the day before. Well he's an exotic mixed race guy - I didn't lie. Aiden works for an International Law Firm and is currently out doing a seat in Singapore - hence 'this part of the world'. He'll be back in the greyness of England in a month, and as soon as he is, he has promised to let me know so we can meet up. The London Office of his law firm is just a one minute walk from mine in the Square Mile.
I've actually never met the guy, I've simply spoken to him once on the phone and exchanged a few emails. To be honest, I'm pretty amazed he's so keen to meet me - I had no idea I had it in me. I suppose it helps that my LinkedIn picture is deceivingly attractive. Men are men after all, and sadly I know how they tend to work.
So we'll see what happens with Aiden I guess. For all I know I'll meet him briefly, shake his hand and it will be purely business. I know he already sees himself as a bit of a mentor to me in my quest to join the ranks at a City Law Firm. In my little dream world however, he'll take me for cocktails and dinner at a glittering restaurant and turn out to be the man of my dreams. (I'll have to update you in a month or two to let you know which one it turns out to be...)
As for Mark - well, it's pretty incredible to watch me switch from shy and cold to confident and flirtatious. All I know is that I have to look my best to bring out that latter side of me. I have to stop throwing up and puffing up like a bloated toad so that the next time we're silently making cups of tea in the kitchen I can say hey and invite him out to lunch.
Fuck, everything would be so easy if I were just drop dead gorgeous.
So it would seem for the moment then that bankers are out of season. God knows what's happened to Harry, he's probably chained to some shiny desk up in his tower in Canary Wharf. I wonder if he'd be up for a booty call? Even Rob hasn't mentioned him for a while - I thought he might have been cheering for us at one point.
Ah Rob... I nearly forgot to write about this: it was a good job I left 'early' at 4am last Saturday night. At Monday lunchtime I learnt that Rob (who by midnight already had eyes popping all over the place he was so high) and the rest of the group decided to take a further cocktail of Class A drugs.
Now I'm a self-confessed drug hater - I knew Rob and Rihanna were big users and I couldn't care less about that - but having to see them in a disgusting state is... well.. it made me feel pretty sick to be honest. I'll never look at Rob the same way ever again. It made me want to puke to look at him on Saturday night. I found it foul and rancid. Even the fucking toilets stank of whatever shit people had been smoking in there. I couldn't escape it, it was horrendous, it was vile. I hadn't let any of that shit into my body and yet I still felt toxic and unclean, like it was managing to seep in through my pores and nostrils.
As we sat on the rooftop of One New Change that following Monday lunchtime, eating our salads, they told me all that had happened after I left. I left like the most boring and sober person ever, I felt like I didn't know these people anymore, I felt like so many of the bonds we had had were broken. And it's true, I didn't understand them - I just had no desire to do it - I couldn't think of anything worse than taking strange powders than make you retch and sweat.
But then I suppose I fuck my body up in my own little way and nobody understands me for that.
This City. I wanted to respect this world, I wanted to be at home here among like-minded people.
I guess I haven't seen anything yet. I guess there's more filth and revulsion to come.
As they talked, I stared out over the view of St Pauls, all the beautiful banks and polished suits, remaining tight-lipped and silent. I come here to tell you what I really think of all the things I see.
Hillary Clinton meme
9 months ago