Michael leaned back in the cab and watched as they passed Maggie walking down the street on her way to the subway. He thought back on the day, smiling as he recalled her passionate argument on the virtues of patronizing local business. She must have aced her litigation classes, he thought, shaking his head.
When Maggie left his office that morning to order lunch he’d gotten busy returning calls and going over notes he had for tomorrow’s case, a former child actress who’d been caught shoplifting expensive silk lingerie at Bergdorf Goodman. He figured he’d be in court most of the day, taking Hodges and Standifer with him.
In the back of the cab, he smiled to himself once again. At least Ellen Standifer would be out of Maggie’s way for the day. What was it about women? He had never understood why women could never seem to get along with each other.
His thoughts drifted to the moment an apoplectic Ellen had come storming through his door about half an hour after Maggie had left his office. “That girl you hired has to go!” she’d demanded.
Michael had looked up at her in surprise. “Maggie? Why?”
“First of all, Little Miss NYU had the nerve to refer to you by your first name,” she said, eyes wide.
He raised his eyebrows. “Oh? How was she supposed to refer to me?”
“Well, Mr. Rannigan, of course. I mean, she’s been here all of five minutes and she acts like she owns the place. You’re her boss for God’s sake!”
“I told her to call me Michael,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders.
Standifer opened her mouth and closed it again soundlessly. “Well,” she eventually spluttered, “after that she refused to order a salad for me from Field of Greens. You wouldn’t believe the tone she took with me.”
“I said that we’d order from Lexington today,” Michael told her. “Look, Ellen, it’s her first day. I’m sure it’s a little overwhelming. Give her time to settle in. But keep in mind, she’s not your personal assistant. I told you the same thing when Dan first started working here. She’ll order from one place a day. If you want something different, order it yourself. She has other responsibilities.” He raised an eyebrow indicating the final word on the subject. She’d left his office in a huff.
The rest of the day had flown by. He’d seen Maggie twice that afternoon, the first time when she brought his lunch. If she had been upset about Ellen she hadn’t mentioned it. Later he’d glimpsed her trundling a cartload of books back to the library.
At a quarter to six, Karen had popped her head in his door. “I’m going home, Michael. See you tomorrow.”
He’d been seated at his desk, the room lit only by the glow of his computer screen and the Z-Bar desk lamp he’d acquired from the Museum of Modern Art last spring. Outside the windows, the city lights were beginning to blink on.
“Is it that time already?” he stretched, lowering his reading glasses.
“Good night, Karen.” He focused once again on his computer.
“By the way, Maggie’s still here,” she said. “Just thought you’d like to know.” She fluttered her fingers at him and closed the door.
Again he felt a twinge of irritation. Why would Karen think I’d like to know that the new hire is still here? He glanced at his Rolex. It was nearly six. Surely she knew that she could leave at five. He continued working for a few more minutes.
Maybe I should talk to her about the whole Ellen thing, he thought. He left his office to look for Maggie and found her office was empty but the light was still on. He walked down the hall to the library where the doors were open. He didn’t see her but he could hear among the stacks. He had to smile to himself. She was humming Big Yellow Taxi. He leaned against the nearest table to wait for her.
She looked surprised to see him there. “Hey Mags, how’s it going?” he greeted her, giving her the opportunity to tell him about Standifer. Only she didn’t. When he pushed the issue she told him that she could take care of herself.
The cab dropped him off in front of his building and the doorman greeted him. “Good evening, Mr. Rannigan.”
“Ramon, how’s it going?” he nodded. Stepping into the elevator the turned to see a middle-aged couple who lived on the seventeenth floor heading his way. He quickly pushed the button for the twenty-first and sighed with relief when the door closed before they got there.
As he reached his floor, another image popped into his mind. At the end of his orientation tutorial, he’d told Maggie about his family background, the father who’d abandoned him and the alcoholic mother who’d left him orphaned in his teen years. “We have something in common.”
He was glad that at first she’d thought he was joking, actually. Sharing the intimate details about his early life had left him feeling uncomfortable. Most of his lovers had no idea about his upbringing and he’d opened himself to an employee, a virtual stranger.
What the hell was I thinking, telling her those things? he wondered as he let himself into his apartment. I need some company. He picked up his phone to scroll through his messages. He was in luck. Gretchen had texted from her hotel. Gretchen, he smiled.
He felt his cock grow hard just thinking about her long Nordic blonde hair and ice-blue eyes, her firm round tits with their perky pink nipples. A lingerie model, Gretchen and Michael had met while he was on vacation in Madrid last summer. He thought about the last time he’d seen her. She’d worn an expensive barely-there black corset with garters and sheer black stockings. In black stiletto heels she’d performed a striptease before telling him to watch as she fucked herself with a large pink dildo.
According to her text, she was in town for a two-day photo shoot. He dialed her number. “Gretchen, how are you, beautiful?”