My Boss

Work Day

I'm not too old for this, right? I'm not too old to fall head over heels for my boss, am I? I'm twenty-five and I've been around the block before. I'm not a slut but I've had sex and have been in a relationship to know the ins and outs of what it means to be in love. Maybe I am too old for stuff like this but I can't seem to help it. I'm in love with my boss. 

His name is Mitchell Goldman. Hell, even his name makes me swoon. I'm sure he could have been a basketball player in another life. I think his best feature is his stature. He knows how to use it to get what he wants and with his lean, long figure there is nothing he can't wear. In my opinion, Mitchell is the type of guy you introduce to everyone you know, especially your family because he's incredibly charming, strong, and sophisticated.

"How's the design," Mitchell stands behind my chair. He bends forward, leveling his head with mine in order to peer over my shoulder.

"I'm almost done with it, sir," I straighten my back, hoping he didn't notice my slouching posture. I hate looking bad in front of him.

He turns to eye me, his face is still leveled with mine and his breath is calm and steady. I keep my gaze on the computer screen while feeling very intimidated. When Mitchell stares at me, I'm instantly shaken. I feel like a high schooler again being eyed by my dream crush. I know it's stupid to feel this way. I'm twenty-five years old. I should be able to handle myself like a professional. However, when it comes to my boss, I'm a nervous wreck.

"Call me Goldman, Scott. It's okay to call me Goldman," after he's done correcting me in the calmest way, his eyes switch back to the screen. "Anyway, the layout is good. Let me take a look at the other web screens."

His hand reaches for the mouse. I try quickly to move my palm away but we end up touching. It's the quickest contact, lasting maybe seconds, but just the caress of his skin warms my entire face. I'm so relieved he is no longer facing me but instead is scanning over my partially finished website.

"The clients will be pleased. Like I said, the design and format is good but my only complaint is the color," He removes his hand from the mouse, " Remember, the client is selling quilts. Quilts are colorful so make the site represent the product." Mitchell straightens himself until his standing tall and powerful behind my chair.

"Yes, sir," Damn it, I did the sir thing again.

Before I can correct myself, his warm palm on my shoulder leaves me speechless. Feeling his touch always causes a brief shut down of my entire body.

"It's Goldman," Mitchell pats my shoulder, "Email me when you're done with the website so I can clear it for release. Understood?"

"Yes, sss―Goldman," I make sure not to say sir again. My boss seems proud of my ability to correct myself because he pats me once more on the shoulder, then I listen as he walks away.

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After work, I head home to my small apartment. For five years, I have been employed as a web designer for Goldman and Shells production and design company. Of course, my boss is head of the business but he's not like Shells who sits in the office all day. Mitchell takes the time to speak to everyone. He has his nose in every part of the company. Even if there's no time for one-to-one talk, like what happened earlier today, he still manages to stay in contact with the staff either through calls or emails.

I think this is another reason why I love him so much. He gives off this charismatic, leadership vibe. The control and power he emits drives me wild. I enjoy seeing him monitor the room while surveying everyone's work and complementing or critiquing when necessary. I've never felt I could work for anyone else but him. And I've had a few jobs and a few different bosses, but Mitchell makes me want to work hard. I want to please him and make him happy.