‘Who on earth does he think he is?’ Hollered Whitney Filaney,from two desks down.She casually swivelled her chair around to face Clara and Kristen. ‘Arrogance is certainly not an attractive look nor is it virteous to be mixing business with pleasure.’
‘I hear you sister! He’s certainly no George Clooney?’ She swooned.
‘I say he’s the smouldering silent type,dark and rugged like a closed book.Willing for it’s pages to be prised open.’
‘Do forgive Ms.Frost,unlike you and I who go for the dashing and virteous Bruce Wayne,whom are experts at treating the women in his life with the utmost of respect.She goes for the mysterious smokey rough and ready like Ian Somerholder.’
‘Indeed I dig the vampish look.’ Purred Clara.
She closed her eyes as she recalled the first time their paths first crossed In the photocopier room.His firm dominant hand shake,crisp Armani suit and clean shaven look the smell of his musky aftershave.She was soon awoken from her senses.
‘Earth to Clara,come in Clara.’
‘Is that a little dribble on your chin?’
‘I was just fantasising about that frothy gingerbread latte and crispy creme doughnut you’ve promised me from that swish diner you’ve been raving about for months? The one in Madison square?’
‘Ah cesarios all in good time my friend.’