CH 1- Patience
933 Words
“f**k!” Gail screeched, hitting the wheel with a lot of passion it honked for at least five times. She rested her back against her seat and took the time to settle down. She almost came. Thank goodness it was Google that read that and it lacked expression. If it were a book club, or worse, the obnoxious dictator himself, she really could have come.
She was caught in her own thoughts when a tap sounded from her window. She rolled the window down.
“Are you okay, Miss Mason?”
Gail just regained her focus as she nodded. The man nodded back and started back. Having rewired her thoughts, Gail’s eyes widened when she realized that man was the Nazi, her boss' driver. Panic took over her whole being as she reached for her bag and phone and rushed outside. She slammed the door behind her and rushed to the elevator.
Adolf Hitler Gauss may have been such an attractive, sexy f**k from those befuddling fantasies, but the real one is a rude, self-centered, domineering, and cold bastard. And he hates tardiness on top of his long hate list.
Her phone rang and without looking she answered it. “Hello?”
“So, did you like it?” a chirpy voice greeted her.
She rolled her eyes as she walked inside. “B*tch! If you weren’t my sister I’d pay you to give me more.”
“Aren’t I amazing?”
She could almost hear the clap in her little sister’s voice. She pressed 39 and waited for the doors to close. “Yes you are! And yes that got my thong tied into a knot it’s rubbing against my sensitivity, I swear_”
A hand intercepted through the closing doors and Mark smiled as his eyes landed on her. Gail smiled back, only for this to fall as her eyes met with the hooded eyes that almost made her come. “Holy s**t!” she mumbled.
“I assume that meant good morning, Miss Gail?” The boss, Adolf Gauss, aka Hitler, scowled at her.
A squeal came from her phone. “Is that him?” The ecstatic voice continued. She wasn’t on loud speaker but she was loud. No doubt all six ears heard that.
Clearing her throat, Gail pressed the end call button. “Holy s**t! You look dashing today, Mark!” she tried. Holy sh_ She's utterly failing.
Mark, the driver, 40 years old, married, with three kids, guffawed at her remark. “You look dashing yourself, Miss Mason.”
She joined in on the laughter. “You look spent. Had a rough night with Mrs. Mark?”
Mark checked whether the statue i.e. his boss was listening. When he saw he was busy on his phone, he moved closer to her and whispered, “We’re not talking about Mrs. Mark in front of the boss, ok?”
Gail giggled. She was sure that certain boss heard that. “When do we talk about it then?” she whispered too loudly, catching the gaze of the boss as he turned their way.
“When we_” his remarks were stopped by a loud clearing of throat. Both stiffened and looked ahead.
“I’m sure you could take your conversations elsewhere?” Adolf commented. Most professional. Most stiff. Most high and mighty. Everybody would believe he was gay if only he didn’t walk a little too stiffly.
“Beg your pardon, sir,” Mark replied.
Gail had none to say. Adolf has always kept to himself. Too boorish for company. Every girl would swoon when they’d first get to know him but they don’t last. Who would like to spend time with a man who always corrected your every action, expresses his dislike to all the opinions he can’t agree with and who can’t even smile? He didn’t have any trace of humor in his bones.
No wonder no personal assistant lasted him, except for her. She has been there for a year already and they were doing quite fine. They were opposite poles but that fact led them to stay out of each other’s business. Besides, she didn’t find him that attractive to hoe around him. She can’t even remember the last time she checked him out. That thought had to peer into her brain and now she’s doing exactly that- checking on his backside. Firm and mouth-watering or maybe that’s just because of the story she had every pleasure of indulging in.
The elevator doors opened and the three of them stepped out. Mark excused himself to the washroom and the both of them continued.
Upon reaching her table, Adolf said, “My office, now!”
Gail only had time to put down her bag on her chair as she took out a pen and her notes. She knocked before twisting the knob.
Adolf was already on his chair as he read a document. His gaze lifted to meet hers as she came in. De javu! Gail thought. The same tingle coursed through her body as she remembered the images that came with his hooded gaze. The table where she bent her knees in her painted nails as she did her own fingers. The throne chair where he sat as he watched her. The image of his Germish and yet blurry tool sliding in and out of her.
“f**k me!” she sighed.
Adolf snapped his fingers in front of her. “What’s that?”
As her stupid mouth wouldn’t shut up, it ran, “How long is your_”. Catching herself before making any more mistakes, she covered her mouth and whispered, “patience?”
His forehead curled in his signature frown. “My patience? I didn’t see how that is related to any of the things I said?”
Trying to gulp down her shame, Gail straightened. “Sorry sir, I have been distracted since this morning. What was that again, sir?”
Confusion ran though him but he shrugged it aside.
- Writer
