All I Want Is You

Chapter-1

Her day started like any other; busy, loud, and insanely annoying.

"Harder, please, harder!"

The ridiculous pleas travelled through the paper-thin wall; the tone, as fake as a three-dollar bill. She wondered if he noticed.

Shuddering away her disgust, she fetched her earphones from her purse, ready to put an end to the fake shit show – that happened in a regular basis – in the other side of that monstrous mahogany door.

A screaming shriek had her cringing. In cue, her fingers worked the tangles of the cord faster. She scrunched up her nose as she readied herself, plugging in her salvation and hitting play at maximum volume.

This is ridiculous, she thought, I don't care what he does – or who he does – just be professional in the workplace for god's sake! (or at least, be discreet. Come. On!).

The third song ended, and the flavor of the week chose that time to step out of the office.

Pulling the micro skirt of her equally micro-dress down, the blonde brushed her fingers over her thighs, trying to smooth the wrinkles away – a clearly useless action. If that bimbo pulled the hem one more millimeter down, her tits would fly up – yes fly! Because those abnormal things are evident pinkly store-bought helium balloons.

Everything was fake; fake hair, fake breasts, fake orgasms.

Don't get her wrong, she didn't doubt his... abilities. Her dear boss could probably please a woman – quite easily – if the way he carried himself with that dark poise said anything.

However, it was still plain and simple: that plastic was faking. Didn't he know?

In the end, she still fought the urge to snicker while taking off her earphones. And to avoid any mishaps, she decided to distract herself with the pile of papers behind her desk.

Tiding, making herself look busy, it was the MO when all the work was done, and she didn't want to be bother with small talk – or more useless tasks his majesty would find for her. She learned her lesson that one time when the flavor of last month tried to get to know her and wouldn't leave until her boss himself told the girl to get lost.

As she pursed her lips, holding the twitchy corners of her mouth in place, the ding of the elevator confirmed that Barbie had left. Her restrained lips were released, and a smothered, half-suppressed laugh escaped her.

"Having fun, Ms. James?"

SHIT.

Emily twisted in her chair to face the unimpeded doom coming her way. He possibly caught her in her act – or almost laughing at his expense. She didn't know which one would be worse.

He – her boss – had leaned over, his palms on the surface of her desk, eyes narrowed at her.

"Of course, Mr. Williams, I always have fun while doing my job." She grinned, that perfect fake smile that was only his (it made him see red, and she knew it!). Mentally, she patted herself for the quick reply and composure.

If he noticed it, he didn't let it show though, as he stood straight and shoved his hands in his pockets nonchalantly. "Did you prepare the reports for my next meeting?"

"Yes, on your desk by the calendar."

"Did you make the lunch reservation that I asked? with Mr. Collins?"

"Done, reservation at 12 pm, the usual place."

"About Thomas Hart's meeting—"

"He cancelled, sir, I emailed you about this thirty minutes ago." You would've known already if you weren't fucking Miss Balloons. She replied but kept the ending thoughts to herself.