Victor: Burning

Victor Li pressed his hands across his recently shaved face. Not even 10 o'clock yet and he knew he was wound too tight. The regular morning jerk in the shower did not take the edge off. Maybe he should take an hour off and go to the office gym? No, not enough time; she'd be here in several minutes for their meeting. Though the producer of the Mircale Finder television show was likely to be late, he had far too much paperwork to do to spend even ten minutes on a treadmill. When she got here, he would enjoy berating her for walking in the door seconds late. He had to play the part of her terrifying majority shareholder, after all.

He tried to read a document from his legal department about GDPR compliance terms for the LFG website, but his mind wandered to her yet again. How her recent lipstick choice was the perfect shade of light fuchsia. How her eyes were too big for her face, exaggerated in his memory to doe-like, wide eyed innocence. Was it fear of him he wanted to see in her eyes? He'd take fear over indifference. Best were the moments when she summoned her courage into defiance toward him - when they got into a feedback loop of battling wills. He liked to see how far he could push her until she cracked back at him, cautious of how far she could push the man with the pursestrings. This power exchange was intoxicating to think of, but no work was getting done.

Victor knew this wasn't sustainable. One day she was going to stick out her lip in that irresistible pout and then yell at him again, her tiny arms flailing. And he was not going to be able to stop himself from snatching her off the floor by her waist and dropping her pencil-skirted ass on the edge of his desk and seizing her mouth while reaching under her skirt and pulling off her panties.

But he was going to have to. He didn't know if she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Would she reciprocate or would she run and ask her HR department what to do? Not that they could do much about an outside investor. He reminded himself to cut it out with the mid-morning sexual fantasies. This was wholly inappropriate. He knew he wasn't a Weinstein, or Matt Laurer, any other stereotypical predator boss out there. Guys like that disgusted him. He was better than that.

Perhaps his lust was inappropriate, but what about a declaration of intent? What was the risk to gain ratio of telling her how much he wanted her? Maybe avoid the word want; it brought forth lusty feelings that made his pants feel tighter. Maybe he should ask her out to dinner and make it plain that it wasn't a business dinner? What if he told her she was the only one he wanted? She's so dense about this kind of thing, would she even get it? What was this? Middle school? Should he put a note in her locker after study hall? What if he just said: "Idiot, I like you. I want to spend time with you outside of work. I want to spoil you with fine cuisine and opera and jewelry and those silly fairy tale amusement parks you always talk about with your coworkers between episode shoots." But being with her at work would have to suffice, until he made a move. He could trap her in his office with some excuse for her to do menial tasks for him. And she will do them because . . . because he's the majority investor, damn it, why can't it be because she just wants to be in a closed room with him? If Victor just had the smallest clue that she wanted him, he was sure he wouldn't be able to stop himself from taking the risk of trying to change their relationship.

Victor realized he was going to have to make a move on her or nothing was going to get done in his office ever again. Today. He should tell her today. Resolved: Take action. For now, focus - get coffee.

He got up to make more coffee in the french press in his office, but he was out of grounds. Damn it Goldman, is it that difficult to keep it stocked? He pressed the button on the intercom, but Goldman didn't answer. Seeing that his assistant was away from his desk and he needed to stretch his legs anyway, Victor headed toward the staff room to get a cup of coffee from the machine.

As usual, as soon as his door opened everybody on the floor snapped to work. He was striding past the cubicle farm fast enough that he could see tabs change on computer screens, and bodies sit upright in their creaking chairs. It amused him how everyone was so terrified of him. They didn't know he knew that office productivity required slacking off now and then, but he liked seeing everyone snap to their tasks.