"My dear, you are the one who is bringing up highly personal matters in a questionable manner. I just happen to be amused enough to let a very impersonal interview slide."

         "I am aware." Thankfully this rather soft reprimand was enough to thaw her some. Not all women deescalate easily, especially if they think you might be patronizing them--the problem is we both knew I was.

          The question would be if I'm hooked enough to shift from such amusement to hiring her.

          After a few seconds she offered this much. "I don't have anyone's personal phone numbers on there, but I have my brother-in-law's and his wife's, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Akune's. If you must hear other viewpoints, well, I've got nothing to hide."

          "What about Mr. Murphy?"

          Now we were back to that cold death stare before she took a deep breath. "I know you are aware that your and Mr. Scythe's proclivities are rumor-milled and dispensed everywhere, but no one gossips about Mr. Murphy. It is sufficient that I do not work for him." She stood, ready to dismiss me--not something I had experienced before in an interview. "Thank you for the inter..."

          "Sit down ma'am, I am not done."

          She hesitated.

          "Please." I'm not one for begging, but I did want to finish the interview. Come on, this was the most entertaining person I've met in a while--scary bits and all.

~~~

         It took me a week to decide. She was, by far, the most qualified, but given how cold she ran with me, we would likely butt heads the whole time we worked together. I wondered if it was worth it, to be so thwarted.

       One thing I was certain of, though, was I wasn't likely to catch her fighting with my dates. Just didn't seem the type to fight over a man.

         Now, would she be interested in keeping her distance or would she even want an aging roué?

         Honestly, whether she did or did not, that never determined if I hired them.

         The only thing that would get a woman out my life was her thinking she meant more to me than she actually did. And not because she thought that way. It was always the surrounding bullshit.

~~~

         "Keith!"

        Three months. That's how long it took the woman to slip up and call me by my first name--and I had to get into her personal space to do so.

         It wasn't my presence alone. Alana finally made her move. I was wrong about the chocolate syrup. It was salted caramel.

         Not that I tasted--again, not a matter of desire, but it wasn't me who first walked in on her stark naked ass on my desk, dripping caramel goo through her folds. Anita had come in with my morning coffee, a few minutes before I strode in.

         When I got in, Anita had her up against the wall by her throat.

         Alana managed to ground out, "He doesn't like his PAs possessive, honey."

         Anita actually snickered at that. "You reek of virginity, I don't smell like him and you got that stupid ho sauce on the papers I worked so hard to stack. If he takes this as me being being possessive then he's going to be in for a world of hurt when he sees what possession looks like in me. But you? Next time try his house. I'm not cleaning anything that your stank ass touches."

         "Put the girl down, Anita, let her get her clothes, and we'll get back to work in a few minutes."

          Immediate obedience. Blissfully immediate, not like the old PAs that took half an hour to calm down. She just turned off the rage like it was never there. This is why so many of these girls have been fired. I didn't care that they wanted control over my life--a PA does have some of that control, as they schedule everything for you. I cared that they got so wrapped up in their demands on me that they quit doing as I command. The fights with my dates weren't the first warning signs, but they were the worst.

        Thank God Alana got dressed and left. I'm sure she will attempt my house, now. Especially since I didn't reign in my PA like she expected.

         Hell, like I expected. I think I was curious as to how far either of them would go. I don't honestly mind the loss of women to sate my curiosity.

         But how did I get her to call me by first name?

         I threatened to smear the caramel sauce on her. Even swiped some of it onto my finger and put it under her nose, much to her disgust.

~~~

         I don't know how I got here.

         I had spent months ordering her about and I got the most immediate results ever with anyone who worked under me. The woman was so efficient, I can't see how even personal reasons got in the way of her job. All 3 men were fools to let her go, especially the last one, where family obligations makes all the difference.

         But that's not the here I meant. That woman who had been trying for months to get in my house so I could take her virginity finally succeeded. Well, in getting into my house. Woke up to her in the bed with me. Wound up needing to call someone to get her out of it.

         The problem was that the company I would have called to deal with people who should disappear--humanely, I believed at one time--was Kean Murphy's side company. Not that I am sure it is really his. I think it's something his younger brother runs.

         For now, I just handcuffed her to the bed as soon as I had her distracted-and left a note to my maid to unlock it after I got to the office. Unfortunately that damn near took what she came over for.

        See, I may have gone on about dates and sleeping with various PAs, and called myself an aging roué, but like I slept with everything under the sun. There is this thing called productivity, and outside of a few rare people, the action of chasing or acquiring tail cuts into your productive time. So I was a bit picky about who I slept with. Dates were often more society functions where it was best to attend with arm candy, not because I needed sex. Sex was more delegated to those moments where I was too distracted or unmotivated to work.

         It was more of a personal science than a faith.

        The problem was that there was a person distracting me, and it wasn't the woman in my bed.

         As soon as I could get dressed, I made my way to my office, a whole hour early. I couldn't truly think, so I was brooding, drumming my fingers on my desk for 45 minutes before she made it through the door. "You're late."

        "I'm 15 minutes early, and you never called." She placed a cup of coffee in my still jittery hand. Her nose crinkled, and I remembered belatedly that she insulted my problem by scent nearly 4 months back. "And you certainly didn't need my attention that badly."

        "We both knew it eventually would happen. Damn woman broke into my home and is handcuffed to my bed, waiting on my decision of what to do with her." As usual, she didn't ask me a damn thing further, as this was my private life and about the only barrier I kept between us, and I was going to have to piss all over that. "And now, that decision rests on what you have to say on one of Murphy's companies."

         Again, that cold stare from 6 months ago. She turned from me and walked over to my office windows. It was a spectacular view of endless fields from over 10 stories up--tallest building in our city. For some reason the metropolitan area was squashed off to the side, not centered in front of a sprawling network of suburbia. I suspect that it is from much of the land being Federally owned. "No. You're not manipulating me into saying anything."

         I left my coffee behind and started giving her a shoulder rub--now, it wasn't like this was out of nowhere. We'd been trading these back and forth for months now, surrounding tense moments. At first it was cautious permissions to touch each other because, well, one way is a firing and the other a lawsuit. Just because I have a history with some of my PAs did not mean that I was wholly stupid about it.

         But she snapped on me.

         She turned around, grabbed me by the shoulders and slammed me into my glass hard enough to rattle it. I was slightly winded, and before I could even think out what was happening, she started growling at me--a damn near demonic tone. Her hand went round my neck and I was suddenly on my tippy-toes, just to try to keep from choking.

         Then Anita started half-yelling at me. "I'm damned tired of your mixed signals. I'm sick of you smelling like other women. And I'm definitely tired of being subservient to some human fool!"