So Into You

So Into You By J.D. Walker So, there’s this guy. You know the type—friendly, hot, older. Frankly, I’m obsessed. I mean, it’s not like I sit here all day, at my desk, staring at his tight-looking ass while he bends over to pick up a pen, or walks down the hall to the copier room in those jeans that seem to only further accentuate his fabulous glutes. Because I shouldn’t do that, right? It’s creepy. And yet… We both worked for a financial services firm, and our floor had an open-space plan. His desk was directly across from mine on the other side of the room, and his back was to me most of the day as he typed on his keyboard, or spoke to clients on the phone. His dark brown skin looked delicious, and those veiny forearms gleamed in the overhead lights when he rolled up his shirt sleeves. His eyes reminded me of caramel, and the dimple in his chin just begged me to lick it. With that kind of eye-candy setup, how could I help myself? Perhaps I could blame HR. They’d hired him, after all. Anyway, Marc Temple was a senior analyst, and I was a newly minted MBA with aspirations to being as good as he was. I didn’t work with him directly, though assignments were passed down from him to me through my immediate supervisor, John. I had been here for almost eight weeks and appreciated the open-minded, casual environment, the collaboration and learning opportunities, as well as the active grapevine. I learned that Marc had dated the CEO, Fran Massey, but then she had fallen in love with someone else and they’d broken up, and were still friends. He had also dated the ex-IT director, Jason, who he’d found out last year had tried to sabotage the firm’s security for reasons I still didn’t understand. All this had happened in the last five years, and apparently, Marc was now single and not dating, as far as anyone knew. He was forty-five to my thirty-three—yes, I had waited a few years to do my graduate degree. Aside from work interests, what on earth did we have in common? And why did it hit me so hard to see him smile and laugh, and wish those expressions of joy were directed at me? It had been only two months, but I was hopelessly in lust, dreaming about the impossible.