Even though Bryant and I didn’t work out, I wasn’t about to lose the networking connection. After all was said and done, he did work for a Fortune 100 company. Hey, it’s just good business.
Fortunately, I had kept the business card of Bryant’s friend and co-worker, whom I met a few times while Bryant and I were dating. Julian was the HR Manager. I decided a friendly phone call couldn’t hurt…nor could a little chat about my experience. Needless to say, he asked me to come in for an interview and I was hired.
The first day was orientation and afterward I headed to Julian’s office to thank him for setting everything up. I casually offered to buy him a drink sometime. What began as small chit chat quickly became heavy flirting….as soon as his assistant left for the night. I tried to keep it innocent just in case it came back to bite me in the ass. He made it difficult; with his dark hair, blue eyes, a flash of his sly smile and a few innuendos.
After about an hour, I figured I should try and work my way toward the door. As I was getting up to leave, he stood up, closed the door behind me and took off his suit jacket. He gave me “the look,” glancing at his desk and then me. I began to laugh.
“What are you laughing about?” he asked.
“I can just picture what you’re thinking,” I replied.
He smirked, “I’m a bad boy.”
The eyeing continued. It was very tempting and a fantasy of mine, I might add. I stood there running the scenario through my head. If I did indulge, if it might turn into a cheesy, Cinemax thriller about the jilted subordinate who goes psycho with an office three-hole puncher.
I made jokes and slowly backed out of his office. He asked me to meet him at a local gay bar later that night. I agreed, but later called him to say I was too tired to go out and asked for a rain check. I managed to avoid him for the duration of my training, but I knew I’d have to see him at the upcoming holiday party.
On the night of the soiree, I was getting ready and pre-drinking in my apartment. I was extremely nervous about having to meet and mingle with all the upper management. I may have been a little preoccupied with my nerves because before I knew it, I had finished off a bottle of wine. I managed to pull myself together and head off to the event. When I arrived, I saw that Julian was working at the check-in table. I approached as he gave me a sly smile and handed me a handful of drink tickets, clearly more than the allotted two, which were being handed out to others. He winked and told me to have fun. I didn’t question it. Great. Give a lush twenty drink tickets. I knew I’d be wasted by the end of the night, if not sooner.
I headed in, talked to a few executives, then headed to the bar. After a few stiff drinks, I was drunkity drunk drunk and decided to hit the dance floor. I think I danced with every woman there and probably a few men. As the party died down, I tried to sober up and started to leave. I was almost in the clear when one of my co-workers stopped me to give me props on my dance skills. As I was talking to her, I felt a hand clutching my ass. I turned slightly to see it was Julian with his back to me, talking to someone himself. At first I swatted his hand away, but when he persisted, I reciprocated.
We ended our conversations and he turned toward each other.
“You look hot,” he slurred. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who had hit the bar hard. I smiled.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I managed to say. Julian looked me up and down.
“Follow me,” he directed, looking around to make sure no one saw us. I followed him to the elevators. We took them down to his office where he unlocked the door and guided me in with his arm out. I walked in as he swiftly shut the door behind him, pushed me against the wall and started kissing me. He then led me over to his desk where he undid my belt and unzipped my pants. They fell to the floor. I took off his suit jacket, untied his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. I don’t know why, but there’s something sexy about taking off or even putting a tie on a man. I unzipped his pants and pulled them and his underwear to his knees. He sat down in his chair, then leaned over, opened a desk drawer and pulled out a condom. He placed it on himself then pulled me down onto his lap. A little while later, he had me lean over his desk. Unfortunately, some of the hotness of the situation was killed when we realized that Julian was a little shorter than me.
“Can you bend your knees a little? I can’t reach,” he requested. I giggled a little and obliged. When it was over, I couldn’t help but think, Man, am I going to get a great blog post out of this or what?
Back at work, our contact had dwindled, but then one day he called me down to his office. I figured he wanted to talk about our tryst out of fear that I was telling people about it at work. That wasn’t the case. Instead, he asked me to go out to dinner with him. He said he wanted to take a step back and make an attempt at friendship. I was fine with that, but something in his demeanor told another story. It seemed more like he was trying to tie up loose, uncomfortable ends.
Later that evening at happy-hour, we were sipping cocktails and swapping carefree banter and racy conversation. When I mentioned my writing and our rendezvous, the mood quickly turned sour. It turned out he was engaged and regretted doing anything with me. He lashed out and I became the “immature, slutty mistake” he made. He begged me not to talk about it, which I had been respectful of. I called him out, knowing that he had already talked to his assistant about it.
“But she’s my buddy,” he defended.
I stood up and began to walk out, insulted and annoyed.
Julian grabbed my arm. “Erik. Erik,” he whimpered. I turned back, thinking he was going to apologize. “Please don’t write about this.” My bad.
Erik Fact: Never mess with a writer.
