Hers Exclusively

Queer Attitude

Scott

I can't breathe. I am in the bathroom, freaking out. Who is she? Secretaries were not supposed to be that bold. Fina was quiet and tended to cry over little things. She had threatened to quit but I hadn't taken her seriously. Now she is gone and Dav–Miss Clarke is in there, already laying hands on me on her first day! She is bossy and confident and not like simple Fina.
“Chill out, Scottie,” I encourage myself. “You can do this.” I steady my breathing and return to my office. She is at her desk now, checking out the appointment book. Her feet are crossed above her table and one would think she owned the office, not I.
“Miss Clarke, get your feet off they desk!”
She groans and actually eyeballs me. “I'll do what you want if you swear that you never cross your legs on your desk,” she challenges me openly, crossing her arms in mutiny. I did cross my legs on my desk but it was my office.
“It’s my office! I can do whatever I want!”
She gets up, ignoring my lame excuse and shoving the appointment book under my nose.
“You have a meeting right about now, Mr Manley. What do you need?”
She is standing too close to me that I could smell her cologne. It is not innocent like most women I know. It is kind of manly, like something I would buy off a shelf at a store.
I shift a little to create some space between us and she suppresses a laugh, probably amused by her new boss’ queer attitude.
“I need my pager and you need a notebook.”
“Already got one!” she informs me, pulling out a small spiral notebook from her business-black leather bag. I did not notice it before, sitting on her desk like some totem.
  “Let's go then and Miss Clarke?”
“Yeah?” she replies quickly, smoothening her hair in place.
“Try to keep a low profile.”

Davina
A low profile? As if.
I thrive on attention and I mostly got it. I had been a cheerleader in school and when I had rehearsals, literally the whole school stayed behind.
A low profile? Not possible.
Mr. Manley makes leisurely strides to the board room like the boss that he is. He owns SkyLine and he looks very much like an accomplished man. I am a head taller than him so I can see the top of his dark, ebony hair. His renowned cheekbones gives his face a distinguished shape, his square jaw a lot too manly. His style of dressing is serious, almost in total grey and they were probably bought off the walls of an expensive store. He is loaded, that's for sure.
We walk into a room filled with executives, all in suits and I feel like a circular peg in a square hole. Even their secretaries are dressed in suits and I barely manage to wear a straight skirt. I take a seat before he does and a lady raises a brow at my disrespect.
“Let's get this meeting started,” he says regardless.