I'd been watching her for weeks, the way she swayed over the office carpet, channeling the static electricity through her eyes and into my soul. As she passed my desk I could feel the heat of her being that burned so brightly in the land of even fluorescent lighting. I wanted her, and I was sure that she was well aware of it.

It had taken everything I could muster to actually speak to her. She started two weeks after I did and sat a dozen cubicles down from me which meant that she was in the accounting department. What a difference a few feet can make. Were she two desks closer she would have been in Sales and Marketing and I would have had an excuse to meander over and say something. As it was, I watched and waited, certain an excuse would arise and I could flex my gym earned body for her and arouse her interest enough so to take her out to diner. I didn't work out because I liked it. I did it for moments like the one's I finally had.

It turned out that some one had botched some numbers somewhere and my vice-president was screaming for someone's head. Bill, the only salesman who didn't work out, and it was obvious by the way his beer gut protruded over his cotton slacks, suggested that perhaps it wasn't anyone's fault in the department. It could have been an accounting error. Knowing that this was my in, I raised my tanned hand and asked if it could be me that straightened out this whole mess with those bean counting cretins. He agreed, and I was in.

She stood next to the water cooler that was sandwiched between the coffee machine and the copier and chatted with someone almost so non-descript I figured him for a mail boy. I picked out a paper Dixie cup from the dispenser and leaned over, carefully holding my tie to my chest, to retrieve some water. I stood still nursing the two or three sips of liquid that the cup held and politely waited for the conversation to cease so I could get her attention. As she spoke, I watched the delicate creases around her mouth and imagined myself tracing them with my fingertips as she lay naked on my obscenely thread counted sheets not thinking about anything in the world but me. I was lost in that thought when she turned to me and asked if I needed something. She was pretty, but abrupt.

"Hey ya, I'm from Sales and I wanted to go over some numbers with you that may, or may not, be correct," I said and I saw something click in the back of her mind. Perhaps she had been watching me all this time and knew that all I had been waiting for was an excuse. Maybe she had never noticed me before, but she did now. I didn't know, but the way her brows unfurled and her eyes widened slightly made it difficult to stand there without crushing the little paper cup in my hand. I stroked my tie and straightened out my belt while I waited for her answer.

"Oh. That," she said and her friend the mail boy exited sheepishly. "I figured one of you guys was going to come to say something, but it works like this, okay?"

"Okay," I agreed suddenly taken aback. She had fire, but it burned.

"First, you have to turn in your invoices. We don't count the revenue unless we have those. Second, before you come to me, check the reports we send you. There's a reason we send those out."

I was shocked. By the way the dress lifted slightly over her hips and the slight curve of her legs I never would have guessed that type of reaction.

"Okay," I said. "Well, thanks for taking the time."

"Always happy to," she said sarcastically with a smile. I doubled over and breathed deep like I was shown in my Wednesday night aerobic classes. I didn't know what else to do except take comfort in the thought that I had just spoken with her and that she now knew who I was.