Corporate Girlfriend

**CHERYL**

I turned onto my side and smiled contentedly. Even in my sleepy trance, I was relaxed.

And then I heard the drawing back of my curtains, and almost immediately, sunlight filtered through, the rays directly hitting my face.

Groaning, I turned onto my front and snuggled more deeply into my bed.

"Arise and shine, sunshine!!!" A chirpy sing-song voice rang out.

"Someone, please shut the curtains," I mumbled into the pillow.

Someone chuckled – Gwen, I guessed. "You need to get your ass up, girl."

"Ten more minutes," I muttered, snootily.

Gwen outright laughed at me. I frowned. What's so funny?

"That's what you said about an hour ago," Gwen said.

I groaned aloud into my fluffy pillow. "What's the time?" I asked and attempted snuggling deeper into my 'comfy' bed.

"8 a.m, I guess," came the reply.

I froze for a heartbeat. And then my eyes snapped open with immediate urgency and horror, before they flew to the tiny bedside alarm clock, and a high-pitched shriek that could wake the dead exploded from my lips.

Shit. shit. Shit!

I bolted out of bed and hurriedly untangled the sheets wrapped around my ankles.

"Why didn't you wake me up, Gwen?" I raved at the brunette who stood a few meters away from me with a smug i-told-you-so look on her face.

"Well," she drawled. She examined her fingernails before proceeding to brush them across the front of her nightshirt - super dramatic if you ask me. "I did, but you were too deep in La-la land to wake up."

"Ugh, whatever!" I rolled my eyes at her and marched into my closet. "And where the hell is my toiletry bag?" I yelled a moment later.

A pretty sizable pink bag was thrust into my face, and I snatched it before hurrying my ass to the bathroom down the hall to get ready.

Note to self: get a plumber to fix the leak in my bathroom. It will save me more time in situations like this, not that I'm planning to have situations like this in the future.

A few minutes later, I hopped out of my bedroom in a brand-new outfit and tugged on my black stiletto heels while trying to check my phone for the time. I nearly damn shrieked.

I'm flipping late!!!

I strode towards my reading table in the corner, scooped up my purse, and checked the contents.

"Gwen, do you know where my reading glasses are?" I asked, making sure to raise my voice so that Gwen would hear me wherever she was.

"I'm sure you left them in the sitting room last night when you were working on that report," she replied from somewhere in the apartment.

My brows furrowed as I mouthed to myself, report? I can't remember working on any repo... My eyes grew as wide as saucers in their sockets.

HOLY MOTHER OF PEANUTS!!!! THE REPORT!!!

Cue a mental facepalm.

Omg, I can't believe I fell asleep while working on that report, the very one that I am supposed to present today by 9:30, and it's already 8:20 am.

How much time do I even have to make it to work early? Or what could be passed off as 'decently late'.

Still trying to tug on my super stubborn heels, I managed to limp-walk to the living room and saw my glasses balanced on the coffee table. I snatched them up and threw them into my purse. I immediately grabbed the neat stack of papers on the right edge of the table and flipped it open, my eyes flying over the printed words anxiously.

I breathed out a sigh of relief and pressed the papers to my chest. I completed them last night to my utmost relief.

"Found it!" I yelled triumphantly.

I spun on my heels and nearly bumped into Gwen, who was standing behind me with a cup of hot, steaming coffee and a muffin. She extended them to me.

"God, you're a lifesaver," I gushed as I grabbed the cup and chugged down the coffee in one go, the hot coffee lightly scalding my tongue. I grabbed the muffin and chomped down on it, using it to soothe my sore tongue.

"Thanks for this," I said gratefully.

Gwen shrugged nonchalantly and took the cup from me. "It's the least I could do to help. God knows you need caffeine to help you through your day at the office." She stared pointedly at the papers clamped tightly under my armpit.

I grimaced at the double meaning of her words, but damn it, she was right.

"I gotta go, so I can catch the bus early," I said instead, and bent at the waist to kiss her cheeks. "See you later, girl!"

I hurled my ass out of the door, slamming it shut behind me.

****

"Sorry!" I yelled as I nearly ran down a middle-aged woman who was exiting the building, in my haste to enter.

I stumbled into a large reception area paneled in rich rich mahogany and gleaming marble. An attractive brunette was seated behind the large reception desk topped with glass, the mahogany base bearing the distinctive insignia of Heron Industries.

I mumbled a greeting to the receptionist and hurried to the elevator.

Stopping in front of it, I pressed the call button and mumbled silent prayers under my breath. Luckily, the elevator arrived quickly, and I quickly stepped in.

I swiped my card through the slot and punched in the number for the top executive suite. The elevator doors slid shut, and the elevator began to move.

I dropped my purse to the clean floor gently and opened it to retrieve my phone. Oh my God! It's already 9 a.m. I quickly scanned my emails for the tenth time this morning to see if there was anything new from my boss, and came up with nothing.

Ok... Phew! Maybe he's also running late today, which is nearly impossible... Or he is already in his office, silently waiting for my coming.

Eerily, goosebumps erupted on my skin, and I rubbed my palms over my arms.

I groaned again. What number is it again? Oh, just forget it. Just then, I imagined my boss raining fire and brimstone on me and subsequently firing my ass and I shuddered. I prayed against it...and this damned elevator is taking forever today, of all days.

Catching my reflection in the glass elevator walls, I cringed. I looked like a deranged psycho. Taking out a compact mirror from my bag, I dabbed some powder on my sweaty face, applied a little lip gloss, and then pulled my hair into a severe and tight ponytail.

I smoothed my hands down my gown and let out a small smile. There, that's better.

I took a glance at the rapidly rising numbers and inhaled deeply.

I can do this. I can do this. God, why am I panicking this much?

Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale.

The elevator arrived at the sixtieth floor with a discreet chime, the doors opening to reveal a large office area, and I stepped out. Mia was missing behind her desk.

I breathed out a deep sigh of relief. I'm not really in the mood to be cross-examined this morning by nosy co-workers and alert him of my late arrival. When I eventually do face him, I'd prefer to do it on my terms. For now, I just have to get to my desk and prepare myself mentally and physically for his berating.

I tiptoed on, holding my breath, and as I nearly reached my corner...

"Oh, Cheryl! You're here!"

Oh, Jesus Christ on a motorbike! I spun around immediately, my face scrunched up in exasperation. "Shh!" I shushed Mia, who was standing a few meters away from her desk, a cup of coffee clutched tightly in her perfect French-manicured hands.

I mentally facepalmed myself for the second time this morning. Of course, she was in the cafeteria, I should have walked faster. My wide eyes scanned the entire space, eyeing the cameras mounted at different strategic places wearily. Who knows if those things were listening devices?

Mia clamped her lips shut and then walked over to me. "Why are we whispering?" she mouthed at me, her voice kept at a low conspiratorial tone.

I silently bite back a sigh of frustration, I darted another look at the cameras and exhaled tiredly. How do I explain to Mia that am just coming in without implicating myself?

Ah! Eye language.

I cleared my throat loudly, threw out my chin, and blinked repeatedly at Mia, all the while shaking my head subtly. Mia was just staring at me with perplexity written all over her heavily made-up face, which am sure she had retouched a hundred and one times this morning.

"You've got something in your eye?" she asked with her lips pursed in concern and moved closer to check said eye.

I instantly deflated. Seriously, Mia?

Ok, so, eye language... No.

I immediately switched to body language. I cleared my throat loudly once more and stared pointedly at Mia, a moment later

I shifted my focus to the elevator and then the CCTV s before staring off in the direction of my office.

I snapped my eyes back to Mia, with my brows arched in a do-you-understand-now kind of way, but Mia is now full-blown gaping at me like I have magically sprouted a golden set of horns on my forehead.

"You sure you're okay, girl? You don't seem..." her wide eyes runs down my form, with alarm painstakingly clear in them, "You."

This time I really do facepalmed myself, to hell with body and eye language. Mia isn't going to grab my message quickly, and the more I stand here, the bigger the chances of me getting caught by him.

"Should I call for help, perhaps the medical team?" Mia continued to ramble on. "You didn't catch the flu, did you? But you don't look, pa–"

My patience instantly snapped. "Mia!" I gritted out from behind clenched teeth, she flinched and promptly withdraws into her shell. Guilt gripped hold of me for snapping at her, but mehn! I'm already having a bad day as it is, and she's not helping the issues.

I massaged my temple with a finger and blew out air openly through my mouth. "Look, Mia, I really appreciate the concern but am fine. I'm really fine, but if I don't get my ass in there-" I jerked my head aggressively towards my office, "am gonna get it fired. Do you understand?"

Mia reared back with a look of pure horror written all over her face. "But why would you get dismissed?" she retorted, and then as it slowly dawned on her, her eyes widened even more.

"Devil's blue balls!!!," she exclaimed loudly. "You're late! Why? You're never late!!!"

Yea, thanks for the vote of confidence and all, but if I don't get away from Mia right now, am seriously gonna lose it... And not in a good way.

"Yea... I will explain everything later, but now I've gotta go."

"But..."

I immediately turned and hurried on, my heels clicking on the marble floor softly. I paused for a moment to collect myself because this was it. The "DO" or "GET FIRED" moment.

Ha! Totally invented that one.

I shook my head subtly. Get it together, Cheryl. You ain't getting fired... 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡?

Now, I'm not so sure.

I shake my head once more before rounding the corner and stepping into the space that was pulsing with an overly masculine energy. Goosebumps prickled my skin. Jesus Christ! This place should really come with a warning label or something because although I have worked here for over Five years, I still haven't gotten used to the energy that comes along with the owner. Trust me, it can be overwhelming occasionally.

I averted my gaze from the east side of the space and trained my eyes on my office door. The plan is pretty simple. Go to my office and regroup before facing him squarely. He can be really nerve-wracking most times.

A few meters away from the study mahogany wood that was my office door, my phone beeped with an incoming email.

OMG.... With my heart thudding heavily in my chest, I slide shaky fingers across the flat screen and opened the email. And it was from him.

**CHERYL**

"What are you still doing here? It's coffee break already. And the last I checked, coffee breaks are meant to be spent in the cafe."

I glanced up at the cheery voice of one of my colleagues, Ellie Palmer, just in time to see her step into my office with a charming grin plastered on her lips.

"I know," I sighed, and pushed up my glasses higher on my nose. "But I can't leave my desk right now. I have loads of work to attend to."

In a spilt-second, her face fell like a wadded piece of paper. "That's what you said yesterday too," she pointed out suckily, and her eyes narrowed on my face. "You're not avoiding any of us, are you?"

I snorted. "No, of course not! You guys are like family to me, why would I just start ignoring you guys out of the blues?"

Ellie tilted her head and contemplated my answer. "Fair point."

"Exactly."

"But I still think you should come with us. Chef came up with a new recipe and he wants us to do a little taste-test for him, before he officially puts it on the menu."

My stomach chose that moment to rumble and I pressed a palm to it under the table. God! How hard can this get.

Ominously sensing that she could be getting to me, Ellie pushed out her bottom lip in an overly dramatic but cute pout. "Please, pretty, please." she batted her eyelashes. "It's even one of those chocalatey-thingy you love so much."

I gulped. Hard. God! Chocolate is one of my weaknesses. I mean, try paring it with a hot cup of dark roast coffee and you will be hurled to a Haven of pure bliss.

I'm tempted to drop everything to satisfy my sweet tooth and caffeine craving but it's not worth facing the wrath of my boss.

With slumped shoulders, I pointed to the stack of files positioned at one corner of my desk. "Mr. Heron wants all of those updated before he gets back today."

"That's what you said yesterday when I dropped by," Ellie said with a chuckle.

My hand stilled for a moment, slightly suspended over the papers spread across my desk. My sight turns blurry behind my glasses and I gulped down nothing down my sudden parched throat. Oh, God! Please don't remind me of yesterday, I still get goosebumps every now and then.

Ellie who was oblivious to the emotions rioting in my stomach, patted the top of my hand fondly. "I guess am just going to save some of the chocolatey-thingy for you then."

I flashed her a tight, grim smile. "Yeah, you do just that."

She turned on her heels and threw me a pitiful look over her shoulder. "See you around, Cheryl." she slinked out through the door, leaving it slightly open the way I like it.

Heaving a deep sigh of resignation, I turned back to my work. Soon, am done with updating the files and started with the screening of emails directed to Mr. Heron, I screened them before forwarding the important ones to his private email.

Somewhere in between my work, my gaze drifted to my phone which was sitting comfortably on my desk and my eyes narrowed in on it. Before I can stop myself, I reached across the desk and grabbed the phone.

I dialed Gwen's number immediately. It rang two times before she picked up.

"2 hours, 35 minutes and 48 seconds. You held out well,not bad," she began.

"What ar–"

"On a scale of 1 to 10, how panicky are you right now? That's why you called, right?" she asked.

"Who? Me? Naa, I don't think so." I tsked, but my fingers flexed around the phone anxiously in disagreement with my words.

"Uh-uh," she said knowingly, and it was almost as if I could clearly decipher the proud smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Ok!" I finally admitted. "Maybe, I'm nervous a tiny bit."

"A bit, huh?"

"Ok, maybe a lot," I amended.

"And I have told you that there's nothing to worry your pretty head over," she instantly chided me. "He's not going to fire you."

"But you saw that email yourself, right? How come he of all people didn't reprimand or call me out on my tardiness and lateness, and possibly make me sign a blood oath or something to make sure something like that doesn't happen in the future."

"Hmm, if you put that way... You may be right. It's quite odd and very unlike him but from the stories that I've read and heard about him from you, he doesn't come across as someone who would do such a thing over an email. He would've preferred to do the berating physically."

"That's even worse," I groaned.

"In all, I know he wouldn't fire you. I know he's an asshole but he can't be that bigger of an asshole to dismiss you over something so trival."

I instantly perked up, suddenly ravenous for the tiniest re assurance. "Really?"

"No," she deadpanned.

I rubbed my hand across my forehead. "For christ sakes, Gwen. Can't you be a little more considerate right now, I'm nearly shitting my pants as it is right now." I mumbled under my breath.

Gwen's hyena laugh fillled the mouthpiece for two minutes straight and I dropped my forehead to the desk in front of me. Some roommate I have.

"I'm sorry..." she actually chuckled. "But that was so funny! Like, girl, you and I know he wouldn't fire you for anything. No one is ever going to be able to tame or tolerate his rude ass for years like you have done. It's that simple, sweetheart."

An headache began to throb slightly in the middle of my forehead and I pressed a finger to it, trying to smoother it out. "You make it sound as if I purposely torture myself."

"Uh-huh, you totally do. And like I always tell you, you could always quit and join me."

I rolled my eyes heavenward. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'll see you later, Gwen. I have to go now, and don't wait up, I might come in late." I sneak a peek at the huge paperwork waiting for me, and I inwardly sighed.

"Ya, ya, sure. Captain." and she promptly hung up.

I dropped my own phone, exhaled deeply and slide my glasses up higher on my face, my stomach rumbling in nervousness.

I was already thinking about when he would be back from the official meeting that had stopped him from dropping by this morning... when I heard the elevator doors sliding open discreetly, and it could only mean one thing.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I bolted to my feet and adjusted my glasses which were perched on my nose and frantically brushed down my suit jacket in case of any possible crease. And just then, through my transparent window, my gaze strops in on him as he steps around the corner and turns in my direction.

Perfection in a charcoal gray three-piece suit is headed my way.

Strong aquiline nose, deep-set eyes the color of molten chocolate, high cheekbones, full lips, an outstanding jawline, and luxuriously dark hair.

Did he get even better looking since he left the office this morning?... Yep, he did.

I shook my head because I'm blinded by the masculine beauty that's my boss. Damien Heron doesn't have a soul. Arrogance sits in the place where his soul should be.

He breezed past my door with his signature frown creasing his fine features, no greetings, only leaving a trail of expensive cologne in his wake.

"My office now," he said in a clipped tone. "Follow me, Miss Chastain."

Strongly resisting the urge to make faces at his retreating back, I grabbed the small stack of phone messages and my tablet and followed him just as instructed.

He strodes over to his own office door and set down the deep brown Venezia leather laptop briefcase so he can enter in his code. I stood a few feets away, respecting his privacy.

A tiny beep is heard before he grabbed a hold of the knob connected to the door, twisting the knob, he opened the door and made his way in.

I lurched forward and grabbed the door with my free hand before it smacked closed. I pushed it open and also stepped into the lion's den.

And am left gobsmacked.

I could never stop admiring the inside decor of his office whenever I walk into it.

It was an enormous office, the glass, chrome, and steel design blended with the rich earthy tone of the room, and it was stylishly furnished with black cushion leather chairs in the sit-out area of the office.

A wide, massive glass desk took up the middle area of the room, and a floor-to-ceiling glass window which was behind the desk gave a stunning view of the downtown skyline of the busy Chicago city.

Breathtaking.

****

**DAMIEN**

I walked to my desk, unbuttoned my suit jacket, before I sat down behind the massive desk. I make myself comfortable and then trained my gaze on my executive assistant of three years... and the longest by count.

My last two assistants were women too. They could have kept their jobs but they were too superficial. They dressed to impress and seduce. My single male clients and even the married ones were entrapped in their web of sophistication. It was a distraction my business didn't need, so I fired them.

My other assistants were either incompetent or couldn't take the brunt of working for me. Six of them sent in their resignation letters before I could even say 'shoot'.

But Cheryl Chastain? She's making an exception. Not only has she broken the record by making it to three years, but she is also technically the best assistant I have ever had... not I am ever going to admit that to anyone.

I ran my gaze down her outfit today, she is dressed in a loose-fitting black gown which was quite professional by the way but did nothing for her shape. The black gown was paired with an equally neat and well-ironed black jacket which came to a stop several inches below her ass. Cheryl puts very little effort into her appearance but still manages to pull off that look between sophisticated and professional.

"How has your day been so far, Mr. Heron?" she asked as she came to a halt in front of my desk. Her singature smile already in place.

"Fine." I answered, curtly. Picking a random file off my desk, I began to flip through it.

"And the meeting? How was that?"

"Fine," I repeated, leaving it at that.

She doesn't expect me to elaborate on my answer and certainly doesn't expect me to ask her anything. I know everything there's to know about her. She is twenty-four, has a degree in business, and is originally from Chicago and also has a pretty high I.Q which was some numbers below mine.

I discarded the file to the side. "I want a coffee in–"

"Your coffee will be ready in ten minutes," she said and swiped her fingers across the tablet in her grasp. "I've emailed you a proposed schedule for the remainder of the day. Your appointment with Mr. Smith is at 2 pm today which is an hour from now by the way."

I nodded, my fingers drumming lowly on the desk.

She stared over my shoulder for a moment before she cleared her throat and glanced down at the tablet in her hand. "And I've also contacted Mr. Moore for his appointment tomorrow morning. He'll be here by 10 on the dot and–"

"Cancel it," I intercepted without missing a beat.

"Excuse me, what?" she exclaimed clearly thrown off guard.

"I said, cancel it. I had rather not spend time with greedy, opportunistic land developers who claim to care about the needs of the community when all they really care about is fattening their own pockets," I gave her a look. "I already have low tolerance for people like that, I'd rather skip meeting with this one."

"But, Mr. Moore has been on the waiting list for over two months. He simply can't be put off any longer," she said, with that blinding fake smile still in place. If she's frustrated or annoyed, she doesn't show it. She never does.

"Then put him back on the list. I've got important people to deal with first."

Her jaw clenched so hard I thought she might gnash some teeth to pieces. "In that case, I'll set up a meeting with the electrical engineering students which has been long over due."

Her tone was sweet and endearing but was lightly laced with that long over due annoyance and that was my proof that the all–sweet–loving–cheerful Cheryl might have some dark sides too.

"You do just that," I told her and went back to accessing the files on my table.

From the corner of my eye, I caught her shifting on a foot, uneasily. It was a small movement but one I caught all the same. She was nervous about something.

I waited her out.

She opened her mouth as if to say something but, instead pressed them together in a firm line. "Ok, Mr. Heron."

I nodded. "Have Mr. Smithfield turn in the budget that I asked for last week and forward the report from yesterday to my email now."

She blinked thrice as if somewhat flagger basted. "Of course, sir."

"Hmm," I hummed, silently dismissing her.

A confused look filtered across her face but she immediately smoothered it with another fake–as–fuck smile.

"Alright, I'll be in my office if you need anything." she said and turned to go.

I just got comfortable in my chair instead. Well if that's how she wants to play it. I will play.

Few metres away from the door, she spun right back. "Isn't there anything you would want to talk to me about, Sir." she winced slightly as soon as the words left her lips.

Feigning ignorance, I merely cocked my head to the side. My fingers going up to rub my lower lip gingerly. "No. Is there anything you would want to tell me, Ms. Chastain?" I arched a brow at her inquisitively.

Blinking rapidly, she choked out a no and bolted right out of the door.

A smirk appeared on my lips... Well if that's not entertaining.

I certainly needed humour in my life.

**CHERYL**

A couple of hours later, I'm dragging my beaten and worn-out ass home and grumbling under my breath, tiredly. I could really do with a nice late-night meal and right now.

I suddenly regretted telling Gwen not to wait up for me. Turns out that one skill I have in the kitchen department, is only limited to making my own coffee and burning toast. All the culinary skills from my mom were inherited by my older sister, Sheila. I just got the brains.

Using my key, I opened the apartment but was stopped in my tracks.

I blinked once, and then twice to make sure I'm not imagining things due to my hunger.

"Please tell me that's food I'm seeing right there," I pleaded earnestly.

I surveyed the room and motioned to the dining table which was set with assorted dishes. Gwen stood a few meters away with a huge contented sheepish grin on her face, her hands locked tightly behind her back.

"Well," she clapped her hands together. "It's just a little something to cheer you up after your hectic day at work".

A huge smile broke out on my face. "Really?"

"Yep. And feel free to shower me with praises later on for being awesome," she teased, motioning me to the table. "Com'on, don't just stand there, the food is getting cold."

"Right."

I dropped my bag and eagerly walked to the table. Releasing a deep sigh, I sunk into the chair that she had drawn out. "Thanks."

She beamed at me as she unveiled a dish in front of me. "Ta-da! Your delicious spicy chicken sandwich and chips."

My jaw dropped in awe. "Wow, it smells delicious."

Gwen nodded. "It is. Dig in."

I grabbed a plate and filled it with the mouthwatering food. "Hmm," I moaned with delight after the first bite. "This tastes so good."

Gwen playfully rolled her eyes at me. "Duh! Am the cook."

I chuckled and savored each bite.

"So tell me, how did it later go... at work?" she asked and examined me from head to toe. "Clearly, you weren't fired, or you would have been bawling your eyes right now."

I suddenly felt less ravenous than before, I replied, "I don't know. Maybe it's because I'm still trying to figure out how much of a jerk my boss, 'The Devil' really is."

Gwen leaned in closer, curious. "What did he do this time?"

I let out a reluctant sigh and took another bite. "He knew about it all along."

"He knew about what?" Gwen pressed.

I gave her a meaningful look, and her eyes widened. "WTF! He knew about it and still didn't call you out on it like he normally did to the previous employees?"

I solemnly nodded.

"But why?" Gwen asked, her face contorted in anger

I shrugged. "I have no idea."

Gwen pulled back with a nasty look on her face. "That's just mean. He probably did it on purpose to make you sweat it out."

"Exactly," I agreed.

"Just when I thought he wouldn't stoop so low, he goes on to prove me wrong. What exactly does he get from putting people on edge, huh?" Gwen seethed . And damn right, I was on edge.

"It probably helps him sleep at night," I mumbled, taking another bite of the delicious chips.

Gwen turned her head towards me, eyes filled with rage and murderous intent. "Why aren't you fuming about this? You should be spewing out fire from your nostrils for fucks sake!"

I looked at Gwen, my expression less neutral. "Spewing fire from my nostrils?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed without hesitation.

"Well,thanks, but you seem more aigtated with the whole situation than I am." I replied, waving my fork around her face. "And trust me, The Devil ain't worth that kind of a reaction. He's just wired that way, to torment those beneath him."

Gwen grunted in response and stuck out her bottom lip like a petulant child.

"Besides, this isn't the first nor is it gonna be the last time something like this will happen," I shrugged. "I've chosen to live with it. And let's not forget the incredibly high amount he pays me. Never forget the money."

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Him paying you well doesn't make up for the fact that he's an asshole, Cheryl. I wonder how you manage to tolerate working in close proximity with him. I'd rather stab myself in the eye with a knife."

I laughed, trying to keep it light with food in my mouth. "That's hilarious." I moaned again as I tasted another chip. "Girl, this is really delicious."

"Yep," she pops the P at the end. "But trust me when I say that sex is even better."

I choked on a forkful of chips and started coughing uncontrollably. Gwen rolled her eyes at me once again before handed me a glass of water. I grabbed the glass with both hands and rapidly gulped it down untill the slight burning sensation on my tongue subsided.

"Oh my god! What the heck, girl," I croaked due to my sore throat.

"What?" She widened her eyes at me innocently. "It's true. I know food is good and all that stuff but, girl, sex is much more satisfying. Take it from an expert." she winked at me, snatched a piece of fry from my plate, and popped it into her mouth.

I gaped and shook my head at her. "You're such a weirdo."

Gwen rolled her eyes heavenward in frustration. "There's nothing weird about sex. In fact, it's an exhilarating pleasurable experience where a man sticks his cock into a–"

I quickly slapped my hands over my ears. "La la la la la la. I can't hear you." I sang in a high–pitched voice.

Gwen wrinkled her nose in annoyance at me. "God, you're such a prude."

I playfully glared at her "No, am not," I defended myself.

She gave me a bored look. "You act like one," She looked at me pointedly. "You really need to get laid and have some fun in the bedroom."

"I'll keep that in mind, my lady, and maybe find time for it in my busy schedule," I said, flashing an exaggerated smile.

She nodded with satisfaction. "Good, because i'm setting up a blind date for you very soon." She stood and turned to leave to her room.

My cutlery dropped with a clatter onto my plate, as I gaped at her back in horror. "Wait, what!" I cried out in utter disbelief.

She stopped in her tracks. "What you heard, girl. It's about time a man helped clean your webby-like pussy."

"My pussy is damn clean, Gwen!"

"Whatever rocks your boat, girl!" she yelled back. "Who knows if that's what have been blocking your head from realizing how much of a dickwad your boss is." she mumbled the last part.

"I heard that," I called after her.

Her response was the sound of her door slamming shut.

Ugh! Did I ever mention that my roomie is quite eccentric and can be quite persistent? Well, now I have.

And that probably means I'm in deep trouble .

****

Do you know how many times I've wondered if Mr. Heron is suffering from a case of spilt- personality disorder? Let's say like a thousand times since I started working for him three years ago.

But let's face it, for now, we only have Damien; the grump, Damien; the irate, and... aha! Damien; the asshole. Can't afford to forget the most important one.

Right now, we have the irate Damien. He came in this morning with a scowl darker than his heart and then began roaring fire at his lowly subjects. On days like this, I really feel like strangling him.

"Is he still angry?" A voice came from above me.

I raised my head and smiled... Well, it was more of a grimace, actually. "Yep, and he's not calming down any moment soon." I said to Ellie.

She expelled a tired breath and ran a hand through her perfect blonde hair. "God, that man really needs to get laid," She muttered under her breath.

I realeased an amused chuckle. Why is everyone around me saying things like this lately.

Ellie shook her head. "I just don't get it. How do you even cope with him?. I mean, you have been working for him for three good years. And no one, I repeat, no one has been able to work with him for a week without having a mental break down" She paused, leaned forward and stage- whispered. "So spill, how do you do it?."

I pushed my glasses up my nose with a finger and lifted a shoulder. "Daily doses of aspirin, washed down with a glassful of tolerance topped with determination to totally ignore him." I smiled. "Not so expensive, is it?."

Ellie threw her head back and laughed. "Yea, I thought as much." She cleared her throat, and sobered up. "Though, there have been some talks"

My brows slowly drew together in confusion. "Talks about what?"

Ellie cringed. "Well, I have over heard people saying that it's because you..." The tips of her ears turned red as if she is embarrassed about what she's about to say.

"That it's because...you sleep with him!" She blurted out so quickly and her cheeks instantly pinked.

"Oh... I see," I said.

Ellie immediately rushed forward to me, hands stretched out. "But, I never hesitate to set them right and tell them that it's not true." She then narrowed her eyes at me in a way that tells me she's waiting for me to either confirm the rumors or support her claim. I do neither.

This isn't the first time a co-worker has come asking this same question, all coming under the impression that they mean well but I know they're just fishing for gossip to spread in the coffee room.

I shrugged non-chalantly and smiled.

Ellie went quiet for a second waiting for me to elaborate more. "And that's it!" She exclaimed in disbelief.

She inhaled and exhaled "Look," She walked forward to me and clasps her hand over mine. "Am not going to judge you if you are. Who the heck cares about what people think if the man in question keeps you happy and is quite good in the sack."

I slipped my hand from under hers as my eyes rounded in shock. "Ellie!" I chastised her mildly as my eyes immediately scanned the arena for any possible listening ears and released a sigh of relief when I saw none.

Ellie rolled her eyes "Oh, please, Cheryl. God knows how many woman has sworn off hooking up with a man because it's quite hard to find one who's good and scales the requirements these days." She added an additional, exaggerated roll of the eyes as if annoyed with the whole situation.

A giggle escaped my lips and I immediately draped a hand over my mouth to smother them.

"And, hey!" She reduced her voice to a low conspiratorial whisper. "Damien is quite a gorgeous man, alright. And if not that I am happily married to the love of my life –and receiving some actions every night– I'ad totally do him." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at me.

I couldn't hold it back any longer, I laughed. "Don't let Julian hear that, bet he won't be happy that his beloved is thinking of shagging another man."

Ellie huffed dramatically. "He knows I would never do such a thing!"

We both shared a hearty laugh. Julian and Ellie has been married for over 5 years now, and still dote over each other like newlyweds. Ellie totally loves that man to bits and would never do anything to hurt him.

The door to Mr Heron's office was suddenly flung open - abruptly bringing our laugh to an end- and a small man carrying a mini brief case hurried out with a panicked look on his face. With one last petrified look at Damien's office, he scurried away to the elevator.

"Who's that?" Ellie asked and I sighed.

"Another receptor of the irate Damien, I guess." I answered.

And yep, Damien the irate is still very much present and he's gonna call in three...two...o..

The intercom on my desk beeped, I exhaled, exasperatingly, and then press down the button.

"Yes, Mr. Heron."

"My office. Now," He said and hung up.

I sighed and turned to look at Ellie who just smiled. "You'd better go before he bursts his stitches and sets this building on fire," She said with her lips set into a firm thin line and gestured for me to get going.

I nodded once and then scooped up any important files he might ask of and stood to my feet.

Time to brace the lion in his den, Cheryl.