Sexy Ass-istant

The knock I had been eagerly anticipating finally broke the silence, a familiar rhythm that echoed in the corners of my mind. Rap, rap. Pause. Rap, rap. Each rap was like a heartbeat of impatience, a pulse that called out to me. It was almost comforting, this ritualistic sound, yet I couldn't resist the urge to draw it out, to let the tension build just a bit longer. I hesitated, allowing the subsequent knock to dangle in the air, savoring the irritation it was likely causing the person patiently waiting to enter. After what felt like an eternity, I finally broke the silence, calling out with deliberate nonchalance, "Come in."

The door swung open, revealing Laurent, a formidable presence who commanded attention the moment she stepped into the room. She was balancing a precarious stack of meticulously organized files in her arms, each one seemingly brimming with purpose. Without missing a beat, she plopped down into the chair across from me, her demeanor all business and no invitation required. The expression she wore was a mask of constrained frustration, as though a tempest raged just beneath the surface.

"Blackwood," she began, her tone calculated, chosen with care but revealing an unmistakable layer of tension. There was a weight behind her words, a tight coil ready to spring.

"Laurent," I replied, maintaining my focus on the rows of numbers densely printed on the page in front of me, unwavering and stubborn. It was my way of deflecting both her gaze and the inevitable confrontation that loomed ahead.

"We need to have a discussion," she said, the urgency in her voice rising like steam ready to escape from a pot on the verge of boiling over. There was a notable pause, heavy with unspoken expectations. "Right. Now."

I remained silent, letting her words hang in the charged air, feigning deep concentration on the figures that swam before my eyes, hoping to keep her at bay for just a moment longer.

With a sigh that sliced through the tense silence, she leaned forward, a predatory glint in her eyes. Her hand shot out to firmly close the file folder that had been my temporary refuge, the sound of the cover snapping shut reverberating like a starting bell in the quiet space between us. "And I need your undivided attention," she insisted, her voice softening only slightly but laced with an undeniable command that made it clear this conversation was non-negotiable. "You can't keep dodging this forever, you know. It's time to face the problem."

I could feel the weight of her gaze on me, an unyielding force that brooked no argument, and it was evident she was prepared to have this conversation whether I wanted to or not. It was a challenging game of wills, one I knew I was ill-equipped to win.

With a weary sigh that slipped from my lips unbidden, I sank back into the plush embrace of my office chair, unfastening my glasses with deliberate slowness. My fingers instinctively reached for my eyes, rubbing away the fatigue that clung to them like stubborn fog. "I already know why you're here, Laurent," I announced, my voice flat yet resigned. "Spare your theatrics. I assure you we can expedite this meeting."

Her response was swift, a mixture of disbelief and frustration. "That was your sixth assistant in two months, Blackwood. I repeat, your sixth. Are you trying to assemble a Guinness World Record for turnover rates?"

I leaned back, a small smirk stretching across my lips. "She was utterly ineffective," I shot back. "Frankly, she couldn't even assist me in extricating myself from a wet paper bag if her life depended on it."

Laurent rolled her eyes with the flare of a seasoned dramatist, an exaggerated gesture so familiar I almost expected them to fly right out of her head. "You have to send me someone competent, Blackwood. It's not just a request. It's imperative."

Straightening in my chair, I defended my stance with newfound determination. "I've provided you with the best candidates available. You've managed to pulverize each one with your criticisms like a wood chipper on overdrive."

Flicking open a meticulously organized file folder, Laurent's expression hardened, her gaze fixed on me like a hawk eyeing its prey. "Late to work constantly, exuding a persistently toxic attitude, failing to handle direction… oh, and here's a fun observation, smiles too much." Her eyes pierced mine, emphasizing her incredulity.

She lifted her gaze from the folder, exuding an assertiveness akin to an attorney cross-examining a defendant. "Shall I continue? The minor faults you perceive border on the absurd. You barely grant anyone the chance to settle into their role before you yank the rug out from under them. Don't you recognize the pattern here?" Her glasses now perched precariously on her nose added an air of judgment that made me squirm just a little.

"Oh, I see a pattern," I conceded, my tone thick with sarcasm. "You keep sending me the wrong types of people. Clearly, Human Resource Department is floundering In their responsibilities. I already provided you with my specific list of requirements. At least one person should've met the criteria."

Adjusting her posture, Laurent scrutinized me, exasperation etched across her face, her voice sharper now. "No. You, Blackwood, are the pattern. Your list is completely unrealistic. No one in their right mind is going to work the hours you demand while fulfilling your every whim and fancy. Not to mention, they certainly won't possess the extraordinary qualifications you're demanding along with the ability to whip up a mean sandwich."

With a fervent shake of her head, she let out a frustrated sigh. "You're looking to hire an assistant, not a personal errand runner or a servant. The world isn't your private kitchen, Dom."

"Believe me, Sherly managed those tasks and brought so much more to the table," I rebutted defensively, regretting my words the moment I idealized her in this conversation.

"Exactly! Sherly knew how to manage you," Laurent countered vehemently, her voice crisp and resolute. "Plus, let's not overlook the fact that she was fifty-six years old and had the life experience to know how to put you firmly in your place. You intimidate all these young candidates. you never allow them the fair opportunity they need to prove themselves."

She narrowed her eyes at me. the determination in her voice resembled a key turning in a stubborn lock. "And it is absolutely not Human Resource Dependent's fault. Look in the mirror, Blackwood. The common denominator in this cycle of failure is you."

I couldn't help but let out a derisive snort, leaning back with false bravado. "Oh, please. I could easily do better. I might just find a diamond hidden in this rubble."

"I expected you to say that," she shot back, sliding the stack of files she had been clutching across the desk toward me with a theatrical flourish.

"What exactly are these?" I asked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in direction.

"Here are four of the most promising candidates for the role. You're going to interview them," she stated flatly, as if deciphering a complex code that I would surely misinterpret.

I took the folders reluctantly, raising my eyebrows with skepticism. "If you think this is a test, you're sorely mistaken. I will find the right person for the role, and I'll prove you wrong." A moment of silence hung between us before I added, "So, what do I stand to gain if I succeed?"

Laurent's expression transformed into a teasing smile, her eyes glinting with mischief. "If you interview, hire, and manage to keep someone employed for more than six weeks? I will gladly concede that the fault lies with us, and you can consider it a monumental triumph."

I allowed a scoff to escape me, relishing the friendly rivalry. "Prepare to be on your knees with an apology, my dear. I expect quite the spectacle."

Laurent's laughter rang through the office as she sprang to her feet, her enthusiasm infectious. "And when this doesn't pan out as you hope, it'll be my turn to revel. An office-wide memo declaring that your arrogance and overconfidence caused this entire fiasco will do just fine along with you treating the entire Human Resource team to lunch. Our choice, of course."

Our banter was a familiar dance, one I genuinely found enjoyment in. I chuckled softly, relishing the repartee. "To keep things equitable, I should see a list of those other candidates you mentioned. Just in case your shining examples fail to meet my standards."

"Fine," she said, her demeanor lightening slightly. "There were only six others who qualified for the assistant position. I'll make sure to send their information over. Careful, though. they might just surprise you."

"Fantastic. Now, if you would kindly exit my office… I have an assistant to hire," I said, waving her off playfully. She stepped out, leaving a ripple of lightness behind her. Redirecting my focus, I settled back onto the spreadsheet I had been laboring over. The budget for this project was tight, and I wanted to ensure the minutiae were not neglected. I resolved to tackle the assistant hiring task later. After all, how hard could it truly be ?