Roger Madison was buried in work. He had so much to catch up on since his father-in-law's funeral, and Mr. Andrews had hardly cut him any slack. His old boss seemed to be more focused on chasing his secretary, Tiffani, around the office than understanding his employees' work loads.
Whatever, he thought, just keep your head down, nose to the grindstone. No need to worry about the... affairs... of others. Roger never liked to make waves. Maybe that's why he'd never risen above middle management.
As he was about to move to the next account file, his cell phone buzzed. He ignored it - anybody with anything important would call him. A few seconds later, it buzzed again. He sighed, it was going to keep doing that until he dismissed the notification. So he did, and couldn't help but look at the screen.
It was a number he'd never seen before, and a message that made no sense.
"Hey Slut"
Clearly a wrong number. Roger didn't have time to bother with it and turned his attention back to the spreadsheet on his computer.
Tiffani passed his office window again and he watched her walk - dainty steps on those stilettos, but with a confident sway of the hips. Clearly it got the attention of all the men in the office, and she always seemed so content and happy. Never stressed or worried. Maybe he could learn a thing or two from her outlook.
The week had just begun and he couldn't wait for it to be over. He absently wondered what Tiffani would be up to this weekend. Probably throwing on something tight and skimpy and heading to the club. Sipping on fruity cocktails and letting it all go on the dance floor, fueled by the bass and writhing bodies until feeling strong hands on her shoulders and something hard against her ass...
Roger shook his head to clear it. He had a lot of work to catch up on. God, this was such a boring job. He just wanted to have fun.
