Well well well, what do we have here?
A set of pointy red acrylic nails scraped along the side of my desk and then tapped it three times.
They were patently ridiculous things. About an inch long, how would you even scratch your nethers with them without gouging out a furrow of flesh?
I looked up at the owner.
Hello milady. What can I do for you?
I instantly recognised the lady smirking down at me. It was The Wyvern. A fierce and terrifying Head of Software Delivery that I tended to avoid. Not because of her fierceness or the ball-clenching terror that she inspired in the weak and the geek of the IT department.
Oh no, I avoided her so that she didn't have to bother with my inconvenient boners every time she glided past.
She was stonkingly beautiful. Geese dropping dead out of the sky beautiful. At least to me. People who liked their women to resemble badly formed pottery might disagree.
Legend had it that she was a former gymnast for Scotland and whilst your average gymnast might look like dried spaghetti she didn't. She was lean and awesome. Like a panther in hose and heels.
So I tried my best to be calm and debonair in her presence and not squawk like a Budgie being held down and humped by a Terrapin.
I have a proposition you might be interested in. Come, let's go to the stairs and talk.
She clip-clopped away on her heels beckoning me to follow.
I pushed my chair out and followed. Swaggering my hips from side to side in what I hoped was my best Confident Cowboy walk and not Emergency cloth-toucher waddle.
I closed the door of the emergency stairs behind me and for a moment entertained the notion that perhaps The Wyvern had lured me here for something naughty naughty.
Right, we have worked well in the past you and I.
She said it like a statement of fact, an insult, and an accusation.
Yes indeed we have. It is always a delight.
I retorted, remembering the times when I had worked in her team and she had worked us all like dogs then took us to the pub to get smashed and repeated again and again until everyone loved her but had to escape from her for their sanity's sake.
Haha, always the funny one.
She looked at me almost fondly before continuing.
You are working with El Jefe at the moment. Fuck, that must be awful?
She waited for an answer but in return, I only smiled. This was not my first rodeo. There was no way I was going to be dragged into a stairwell by a ravishingly beautiful woman and then start insulting my boss because my testicles demanded I please this woman.
Of course, you can't say. Well, let me say it for you. He is not delivering. He is going down.
The Wyvern pointed slowly down to her pointily-toed heels.
I tried not to stare at them too long and to pull my gaze back up.
Is he indeed?
I said with calm disinterest.
If this was Workplace Poker then I was sitting on a couple of pocket rockets and going by the name of Botox Biff.
Yes, the word is out. When I heard, I thought of you.
She smiled and reached out a finger to poke me in the chest. Fortunately, she didn't push it right in and scoop out my heart.
Do carry on?
I tried to imagine kittens falling into a mincer so the boners I didn't like to bother her with wouldn't all come yapping at her like a pack of dogs.
You must be bored out of your tits working for him, surely? Come, work for me. I will get a position approved and you can interview and boom... You will get it, you get me?
She winked and I almost fainted.
Might be interested. Let me know when the job is up and about the money.
Ah, the money. There might not be any but I will put the feelers out.
She looked a little uncertain then. Like a blind man realising he has put his foot in an otter instead of his sock.
It was my turn to wink as I took to the door leading back to the office.
Get the job up with the money and we will see.
I opened the door and started walking back to my desk.
My heart was thudding loudly in my ears and I felt hot and shaky.
Fucking hell, the state of me, could I seriously contemplate working for The Wyvern?
Then I remembered the pointy nails...
Maybe I could...
