True Affair

On Good Terms

"Don't loose that number, you don't wanna call nobody else"
Rikki Don't Loose My Number
by Steely Dan

November 7th, 1993

"Aren't you popular?" Cheyenne teases as she leans her side onto my desk. I can see the slight curvature of her lips as Michael comes into view through the glass windows, that are on either side of the office door.

My hand loosens it's grip on the ball-point pen and glides over my face as I let out a grunt. "Michael's making this case impossible" I whine with a stressed expression. A quiet knock is heard on my office door, the noise echoes through the office.

Cheyenne turns her head as her body stays in its awkward position. "He is your client.. treat him like you would any other 'difficult' client," she rolls her eyes. Her heels click as she walks towards my office door.

"Trust me, I've dealt with many. This one just grinds my gears," I seethe.

Cheyenne tsk's me, in disapproval as her hand wraps around the knob.

I increase my grip onto my face as his aura blasts into my small quarters. "Hello, Mrs. Smith," he chirps. I can feel his eyes pierce through my hand as he walks closer.

I let down my hand and see Cheyenne's head bob. "Mr. Jackson," she giggles. I peer down the hall and see Cheyenne walk in the opposite direction of her office. I raise an eyebrow and decide to think nothing of it.

As Michael's behind dips into the cushion, the door closes simultaneously. I inhale deeply, making it audible for Michael to hear. My eyes are in faint slits as my teeth are on full display. "Mr. Jackson, here you are again," my smile continues to grow as my irritation bubbles from within.

His head cocks, and a frown becomes noticeable on his face. "Do you dislike me due to the media? Being as successful and smart as you are, I'd think you would know it is everything but truthful.' His sweet tone throws each word as if they are a dart.

My eyes go my wide as I push my shoulders back. "No, Mr. Jackson. That isn't it. Don't question my intelligence or assume-"

"I'm not assuming- it's not hard to tell if you're disliked. As a client, I was put off by coming into your office and you not even having the decency to welcome me in" his jaw is clenched foreword.

I cling onto my desk as I pull my chair in. A pang of guilt hits me, and my face shows my emotions clearly. "Mr. Jackson, I apologize. It is no excuse for my unprofessional behavior, but I have been stressed. It won't happen again," I smile.

Michael's scowl turns into a broad smirk. "Okay, then," he licks over his bottom lip as he picks his chair up underneath him- to move it towards the desk. "I want you to be honest now."

"About?" I ask politely.

"What's the real reason you dislike me? I won't be offended. It'll just keep on bothering if I don't know why" he speaks calmly. His pointer finger rubs up and down the nail on his thumb.

"Mr. Jackson," I sigh as my head moves to the side quickly, before returning straight.

"I know what I said a few days back was uncalled for, and I promise to remain professional - as you said. All I ask for is an explanation. Many think foolish things about me, and most are completely false," Michael shifts in his seat. "I think it'll better our professional relationship and my trust in you if you just explained."

My throat lets out a noise as I swallow the lump that has formed in my esophagus. He speaks with no pauses, almost as if he had recited. Damn, he is smooth, I think to myself. He licks his lip more noticeably, and I stare before the curvature of his blush - colored lips goes upwards. I've been caught.