Burned

7

            Weeks passed and Alfie's relationship with Louise became more complex. He figured it would work itself out but it never did. They kept dancing around each other. Louise acted professionally and Alfie mirrored her behavior. But his gaze always lingered. He craved the little touches they shared throughout the day.

She'd touch his arm during a greeting or parting ways for the night. If she took notes beside him in a meeting, her elbow would frequently brush up against his arm. It drove him absolutely insane.

He felt an unbearable itch deep inside him. Frustration built up and he needed a release.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Not a patient man, Alfie decided to make a move. Even though as he walked to his office, he felt like a demon going to try and seduce a fair maiden. Muttering a prayer for salvation in Yiddish, then in Russian just in case.

Louise looked up when the door creaked open. The brutal London summer heat made the office feel like a furnace. She sat behind his desk, organizing his papers even though Alfie could make a mess of it within minutes.

He stuttered to a halt in the doorway. He was being tested. Surely.

She was the definition of perfectly undone. Her hair was coming out of the up-do that had been pristine that morning. Stray pieces of rich auburn hair stuck to her forehead. Her face was flushed, red cheeks shining with a bit of sweat from the heat. She'd worn a short-sleeved blouse and gathered her skirt up to the top of her thighs. Concealed under his desk, she tried to cool off a bit with no relief.

"This has got to be the hottest summer on record." She complained and wiped her brow with the back of her hand. A dash of ink blotted across her forehead.

Alfie chuckled and reached in his pocket for a handkerchief. He walked around the desk to hand it to her. "Got ink on ya face, silly girl."

"Oh..." She huffed and reached for her compact mirror to see the mark.

His eyes caught a glance of her skirt pooled up on her lap. He caught a good view of her garter belt running down her thighs, attaching to her sheer stockings. Remembering he was enough of a fucking sinful creature already, he looked away.

"Alfie, you need to get an electric fan in here." She protested. "I don't know why you don't already have one."

"Right, fine." He nodded. Usually, his secretary got whatever she wanted. It was unheard of in the bakery even if they were simple requests to improve her work experience. But he never argued with her on things like an electric fan or a new typewriter because the last one was so badly damaged. Ollie was incredulous because he frequently asked Alfie to replace the machine but the man refused.

'Does is fucking type words? Yeah? Then it's fucking fine, quit yer whining.'

But the first time Louise asked, he made Ollie go out and get a new one that afternoon. Yet no one could tell Alfie he was treating her like a princess. He'd just tell them to fuck off. He knew he was and he didn't care what other people thought. She deserved it, she'd get it.

"I'll get twenty fans if you fucking want." He muttered as if she was bothering him. He would get her twenty though. A hundred even. Anything to keep her happy. He was a pushover for her. "It'll feel like the Arctic in here tomorrow." He nudged her out of his chair.

She got up; only just noticing her skirt was still hiked up. Going even redder, Louise prayed her boss hadn't noticed. "This was delivered too." She reached over him to grab an envelope she'd carefully sorted into a pile. Her silky blouse shifted and blessed Alfie with a whiff of her jasmine scented perfume. She straightened up, setting the thick cream envelope in front of him.