Administrative Assistant

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Administrative Assistant (Pt. I)


Fluttering between open and closed, my eyelids betrayed my true thoughts about the meeting I was currently sitting in: Pointless. Unnecessary. Aimless. Unproductive.

I was representing the engineering team in the, now bordering on three hour long, meeting regarding a large new account that the sales boys had managed to land. As a team of me, myself, and I, I was always forced to attend these teeth-gratingly boring status meetings.

Most of the attendees were "calling in" from around the world via Holo-Presence; their lavish executive offices decked out with high tech 3D camera arrays, microphone banks, immense LED displays and speaker stacks. For all intensive purposes it looked and sounded like they were in the meeting room, only the occasional disturbance in the signal causing a momentarily flicker in their projection.

I stared at an air vent on the far wall, listening to the cold air flow through. My eyes closed. My head dipped. I caught myself, pulled my head back up, pushed my back deep into my seat and straightened my posture. As boring as this meeting was, falling asleep would be a very bad look in front of the directors, vice presidents, and managers surrounding me.

I was watching a screen with several overlapping line graphs, as a greasy haired accountant in an all too tight suit stepped through every data-point individually.

The door to the conference room opened up silently and Rachel, the newly hired Administrative Assistant, walked through carrying two large coffee thermoses, a half-dozen or so mugs, and a matching number of disposable water bottles. She delicately balanced all the items on a large tray with one hand, and with the other pulled the door closed behind her.

Multiple sets of eyes, hologram or otherwise, watched her walk through the room and drop off the tray at a small table in the back corner. The new assistant was almost impossibly pretty, although in today's HR climate, nobody dared discuss it within the office. Daniel Keanes, a soft spoken IT Associate, had been canned only two months prior for asking out Jane in accounting in an "inappropriate" way.

I turned back to face the assistant, her hair glimmered brown, it's lightly tousled waves ending at her shoulders. Her eyes, a soft ocean blue, seemed to radiate energy.

I watched intently as she leaned over the table, filling her tray with two empty thermoses and several used mugs and glasses. The fabric of her light gray office trouser slacks strained against her toned, round derriere. The outline of her exquisite ass was on full display through the thin, yet office-appropriate wear.

I tried to stop staring, but failed as soon as she got up from the table, spun around, and began walking back towards the door. I could see her generous breasts jiggling behind her white blouse with every step. The piece hugged her torso, chest, and shoulders snuggly, but still left plenty to the imagination.

"Stephen?"

"Stephen?"

"Stephen!"

I finally noticed my boss, Peter, yelling my name. He was glaring at me with his permanent 'Whatever-the-fuck-you-say-better-not-contradict-me' look plastered across his digitized hologram face.

"I'm sorry sir, can you repeat the question?" I replied.

Peter heaved a dramatic sigh, his transmission flickering momentarily, "We're talking about the Mavis account Stephen. When do you think you'll have those electrical schematics completed?"

Okay, easy question.

"Ah yes! I should have those done by the end of the week."

"Okay great, that would put us about...six days ahead of schedule." My boss squinted his eyes at me and coiled his lips, "Now what about the problems we've been having with the CMC Server downstairs? I don't want a repeat of what happened with Project Sterne."

Okay, definitely a harder question.

"The Capacity Management & Communications Server has been completely stable for the past month. Since Kimmy and I ran that firmware update and patched up a couple home-cooked software solutions, we have seen a significant decrease in the number of memory cache allocation errors that were bogging the system down before."

"Good, we can't afford it going down again. Now as I was saying..."

The sound of my bosses voice faded away as I again returned my gaze to Rachel who was exiting the room. I think she must have seen me staring, because she flashed a friendly smile and winked right at me.

She pulled the door closed behind her, and I sat there for the rest of the meeting, a smug grin lifting at the corners of my mouth.

... ...

The meeting finished up well after 8:00 PM and the small handful of physically present suits quickly vacated the premises. Mulling over my plans for the night, I walked to my desk in the corner of the office nearest the small reception area and sat my things down. I heard some ruffling, and curious to see which suit hadn't yet bolted for exit, peeked my head above the walls of my cubicle.

I swallowed hard. It was Rachel making the noise; of course none of the execs had stuck around. I watched her for maybe a minute or more as she meticulously dusted and spot cleaned the small reception area where she sat everyday scheduling meetings and greeting visitors.

Realizing I had been staring for too long, I decided to walk up and talk with her. I had yet to formally introduce myself and thought this would be a great opportunity to do just that.

I walked up to her, and she must of not heard or seen me, because she remained facing the opposite direction running a wet rag against the wall.

I cleared my throat, "Hey! Uhh. It's Rachel, right?"

Her hands immediately dropped to her sides and she pivoted to face me. She cocked her head sideways for a moment before speaking, "Yes, that's me!" She paused for a fraction of a second before continuing, "You're Stephen the Electrical Engineer, is that correct?"

"Yep, you're right on the money!"

Rachel frowned, her face inquisitive. "I'm sorry, I don't quite understand."

I looked at her, equally inquisitive, "The phrase 'you're right on the money'?"

She nodded.

"It means...it uhh means...that you're absolutely right...that you're on target with what you said."

Rachel flashed a dazzling smile, her pearly whites catching the bright fluorescent office lights, "Thanks Stephen. Now I get it!" She shrugged her shoulders dramatically, "I can be a bit of an airhead sometimes. Sorry about that."

I reassured her, "Oh no don't be sorry! It's quite fine. Nobody knows every phrase; that would be quite impossible!"

Rachel just stood there smiling, not adding to the conversation.

"Say, what are you doing here so late anyways Rachel? Shouldn't you be home or at least on your way home right now?"

She broke her smile to answer my question, "Oh I always stay late. I just love making sure that the reception area is clean each and every day! Although..." Again, she cocked her sideways for a short moment, "...I should probably get going if I'm going to catch my 8:40 bus."

"A girl like you rides the bus? No way! Those things are prehistoric! They're not even electric. They're loud and they smell."

Rachel again, just smiled prettily and nodded, saying nothing more. So, I continued, "Would you like me to give you a ride home? I'd be more than happy too."

I realized I was being a little too forward with Rachel with whom I'd only formally spoken with just now, "It's just a friendly ride home. That's all. You're more than welcome to decline if you'd rather take your..." I winked at her, "...loud, smelly bus home."

Her head cocked sideways again as she mulled my offer over. It was certainly an odd quirk of hers, but I found it increasingly cute. "Yes Stephen, you can give me a ride home. But, I must be home by 10:00 PM."

My stomach filled with butterflies, "Of course I can have you home by then Rachel!" I chuckled jokingly, "Do you have some sort of curfew or something?"

She put her hands to her hips, cocked her head to the side and smiled, "I must be home by 10:00 PM."

I nodded, "You're right it doesn't matter why. I'll get you home in time. Where do you live?"

"388 Saratoga Drive Apartment 203 West Linn, Oregon 97036"

"Oh you're in West Linn? Yeah, we'll have you home in no time!"

I started for the door, Rachel following close behind.

"Don't mess this up. Don't mess this up. Don't mess this up." I thought to myself, before closing the office door, and listening to the auto-locks pin shut.


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