I was sitting at my desk, paperwork piled up to my eyebrows, when someone knocked on my office door. I sighed, too exhausted to protest, and threw down my pen, calling, "Come in!" with a weary voice. I had my face in my hands, rubbing my eyes, when the door opened; otherwise, I was irritated enough at the time that I might have just told her to get lost. But I wasn't looking, and by the time I did, it was too late.

"Mr. Crisp! I can't believe you're still here!" the bubbly young secretary chattered.

"I've got a lot of work to do, Jeane," I said, gesturing to the mound of paperwork. She didn't take the hint.

"Then you'll be here a while yet, won't you?" She made her way to the coffee pot in the corner. "Then let me do you a favor...or two," she purred, giving my a sly look.

I was getting angrier with each passing second. I had a lot of important work to do, and I couldn't concentrate with her practically throwing herself into my lap. She didn't understand that I wasn't the least bit attracted to her wily charms, that I couldn't be...

"You like a lot of creamer, don't you, Mr. Crisp?"

"I'm...really not thirsty, Jeane."

"Oh? Oh, then maybe..." she approached me slowly, her sharp heels clicking harshly against the tiles and her hips swinging, "...you'd like a little back rub, hm?"

"I really don't need--"

"Come on! It will help you relax..."

I watched in shock as she plopped right up on the desk, her short skirt sliding even farther up her thighs than it already had been as she crossed her slim legs.

Okay, that was the last straw. I had to get out of there. I'd get more work done at home, sitting on my couch with my own coffee and cream. "Actually, Jeane, it's later than I thought. I'm going to head home."

"And do what?" she asked with a disappointed frown. "All you care about is your work! You won't take a precious second out of the day to have fun!"

"That's why your father made me the Assistant Director," I said, wanting to add, and you're just a secretary. But I didn't dare; besides the fact that she was my boss's daughter, heaven forbid I should give the girl any ideas. I shuddered to think what would become of the world with a woman like that in charge of something important.

I turned my back on the angry girl, slipping my long winter coat on over my business suit. I hurriedly crammed the most important of my papers into my over-stuffed briefcase and made a run for the door.

"Mr. Crisp!" Jeane called before I'd quite made out of the office. "You forgot your scarf!"

Damn, I thought. Almost made it.

I went back to retrieve the forgotten article, but she wouldn't hand it to me. Instead, she gestured with a long, painted-pink nail for me to step closer. It was the last thing I wanted to do--stand closer to that woman--but I didn't have much in the way of choice. She was the director's daughter, and if I was too awfully rude to her, I might find myself working as a janitor for Hanley Advertising Group, rather than as the chief's second-in-command.

As she placed the scarf around my neck, Jeane made some kind of disgusting chirp that I was sure she thought must be cute. She carefully--and slowly--tucked it into my collar and tied it in the front, managing to catch my long brown hair in the folds. Ouch. "How's that, Mr. Crisp?" she asked, batting her eyelashes at me.

If you say my name like that one more time, girlie, I'm going to throw up. "Fine, Jeane." Despite the fact that you ripped out a few roots. "Good-night."

I had made it out the door and halfway down the hall before she called out to me again.

"Mr. Criiiiisp!"

Oh. My. God. Would you stop that, please?!

I didn't say a word, just turned to look at her. To my dismay, she was wearing her jacket, too. "Walk me to the station?" she asked.

Think fast, think fast, thinkfastthinkfastthink...

"I've got to stop at the pharmacy," I lied. I picked the pharmacy because it was in the opposite direction of the subway station.

"Oh!" she squeaked. "You're not coming down with something, I hope? If you do, call me and I'll be right over to fix you some warm soup, okay?"

"If I get sick, you'll be the first one I call," I promised, not bothering to ask for her number. Good thing I rarely caught colds.

I did, however, have to walk her to the exit. We parted ways at last, luckily before she realized that the pharmacy had closed long before the current time, which was nearly two a.m. I untied my scarf and then draped it loosely over my shoulders. It was more to create a fashion statement than to keep me warm, after all. I loved the chill air.

I walked along the same street the pharmacy was on. The cold night air felt good, and I was stiff and sore from sitting in that chair all day. As I walked, I thought I remembered there being a subway station in the next suburb. It couldn't be much more than a mile or so away.

Well, why not? I thought, eagerly following the new road. I felt adventureous, and this was about as much excitement as I'd ever had, I was thinking wryly.

If only I'd known!

I passed the pharmacy and kept going. As I walked on, there seemed to be fewer and fewer businesses, but more and more people, though it was the middle of the night. It didn't take long for me to realize I was in a rather shady part of town. The buildings all seemed to be either dilapidated or condemned, and there were no friendly strangers on the streets at that ungodly hour. I was cast several odd looks by street kids who decided I was too old to be part of their rival gangs, and they left me alone. I had walked for half an hour, and I was getting tired. Where in the devil was that station?

So much for adventure, I thought, and walked on ahead. There were some brightly-lit signs directly in front of me, and I could hear loud, thumping music pouring from a shabby nightclub to my right. A couple suddenly staggered out of the bar's smoke-filled interior, falling all over each other and vomiting. I scowled at the couple, fighting the urge to cover my nose as I passed by.

I crossed an intersection into an even livelier part of the city. There were bums roving on every corner, and some other faceless characters I felt sure had jobs, but not the kind I wanted to know about. I kept walking straight ahead, hoping the station would appear soon, but knowing I was completely lost.

Damn Jeane! She'd caused me to lose half the night's hours of work, and the other half of the night's hours of sleep, too.

The crowd was thinning out and the street across the next intersection was fair enough vacant. I saw a group of younger boys hanging out by a light post, and sighed in relief. They didn't appear to be rough hoodlums from the distance, and when I got closer I saw that they were just the opposite--somewhat effeminate chaps with odds and ends of women's clothing wrapped around their wiry young bodies.

I cleared my throat as I approached the chattering teens, not wanting to give them a scare when I badly needed to ask for directions.

At the sound of my voice, they all looked up sharply, and I grew strangely warm under their intense appraisals, despite the winter chill.

"Well, hello, baby..." one of the boys cooed at me.

"What brings you here at this late hour, hm?"

"Isn't it past your bedtime?"

"Need someone to tuck you in?"

They laughed--there were five in all--at my shocked silence. It hit me then: they weren't just street kids out for kicks; they were male hookers. Boy prostitutes.

"Um... I--uh..."

"Looks like he's tongue-tied."

"It's your crazy hair, Kiki. You're scaring him."

"I'm scaring him? Look at you! I told you before, you've got that on backwards."

"Do not."

"Do so!"

"Have 'him' show you how it goes!"

"Yeah!"

My face was flaming crimson by that time, I felt sure. These boys were flirting with me, circling around me like starving vultures, and I was getting hot. I had to get out of there.

I turned backwards and pushed through the small crowd, only to run right into another boy. But this one was different.

Tall as I and even more broad, his hair cut short with a few long strands on the side of his face, stood a boy of perhaps nineteen years. Unlike the rest, he was wearing blue jeans and a jacket over a T-shirt. His lovely, almond-shaped eyes belied the otherwise masculine features, soft but undeniably of the male sex. His lips were...too perfect to be described in mere words; they seemed to have been formed for kissing. His body, though hidden, must have been muscular, like his strong neck. He was slender, but beneath his clothes would have been a body like steel. He was, in a word...gorgeous.

"Ah... Matt takes the best of them!" one of the others sighed.

I felt like some kind of prey... I wouldn't have minded being feasted upon by the one.

"Don't worry," the gorgeous one said, his face still just inches from mine. He didn't turn to the others as he said, "I just came for my brother."

"Aw!"

"I'll bet."

"Sure thing. Whatever you say, Matt!"

"Let's go, Jesse," the older boy commanded.

"Okay, okay..."

The smallest, and probably the youngest, of the five--now six--stepped forward, sheepishly casting me a look of regret. His handsome older brother gave me a look before he turned to go, his hand on his young sibling's shoulder. I looked after them, feeling an urgency that I didn't understand. "Matt!" I wanted to call out to the older boy. But what then? Would I offer to pay him for a night of sinful pleasures that would leave me with nothing but guilt in the morning? Or even worse--with a desire to keep the boy?

I let them go.

The others were not ready to give up the game, but they no longer had my attention. I fled the street, wandering aimlessly until--ah, at last!--I stumbled upon the hidden subway station, half a mile from where I'd first seen the exquisite boy called Matt.

---

I showed up for work the next morning, my paperwork--needless to say--incomplete and disorganized. Jeane gave me a little smirk when I passed her station on my way to my office. I wondered why. Maybe she thought I really had taken ill--and good for me for not taking her up on that chicken soup offer. Either that or she'd told everyone we'd made it last night. I didn't doubt that she had perhaps planned such an evening for us the night before, but no sense in calling her out. Better to ignore her, and hope she didn't spread the rumors too far.

I got to my office, barely on time, and immediately made for the coffee pot. I can't function without it in the morning. But, of course, after the way I'd rushed--no, Jeane had chased me--out of my office the night before, yesterday's drink was still there, and not looking so good. I bypassed the table and went, instead, to my desk. More good news awaited me there. I had a blue folder on my desk. Only one thing that could mean: a business meeting. I hastily tossed my briefcase onto a shelf behind me and ripped at the folder. Luckily, I had...oh, just thirty minutes before the meeting. Great.

Oh, well. It could have been worse. There were often those "report immediately to conference room such-and-such" blue packets. Normally, I didn't mind business dealings. I usually loved to talk about my work, but today was different. I'd been out way too late the night before, and I'd barely been able to sleep for worrying about my unfinished report, and... other things.

"Mr. Park!"

Okay. That was the only thing most definitely not in my dreams last night.

"Yes, Jeane?" I asked irritatedly as I fumbled with my paperwork, not looking up.

"Daddy wants you in his office. Right now," she added flippantly.

"All right; I'm coming," I said reluctantly. I cast one last look at the shambles that until yesterday had been my office, and went to see the director.

"Mr. Hanley?" I asked, knocking anyway on the already-opened door.

I was pleased to see that the man wore a smile on his face. "Ah, come in, Lee!" he called, cheerfully enough.

That was a good sign. I walked into the office.

"Shut the door."

Okay... Maybe not so good.

"Have a seat, young man."

I loved it when he called me that. I'm almost thirty.

"Lee, do you have a girlfriend?"

I could have laughed in his face. But he wasn't smiling.

"No, sir."

"Hm... I see." Now he did smile, but somehow that worried me even more.

"...Sir?"

"I have a proposal to make, Crisp."

"...Yes, sir?"

"A marriage proposal."

I stared at him. I thought for a moment I'd misunderstood. Then I wanted to slap myself. Of course the director wasn't proposing marriage to me! He must have something else in mind.

"Do you know what I'm driving at, son?"

"...I'm not quite sure I understand, sir..."

He relaxed in his chair, meeting my gaze with confidence. "I'm talking about my daughter, of course," he said.

"...Uh... Jeane?" What was he driving at? I was a businessman; not a matchmaker. What was I supposed to do?

"Yes. What do you think about her?"

"Well, sir, I haven't spent much time with her." And I certainly don't want to.

"No, but that's about to change."

Goody. "What do you mean, sir?"

"You're not a child, anymore, Lee. You're a man, now, and I feel privileged to have seen you grow with this company. I trust no one more highly than you."

"Thank you, sir." This couldn't possibly be a promotion... The only higher spot I could obtain would be the position presently occupied by the director himself, and--

"So, what I'm saying, basically, is this: I want you to take over the company when I'm gone."

"Oh, sir--!"

"Now, now--don't get too excited. I don't intend to pass on anytime soon, you know. But I would like to have the security in knowing that the place will be taken good care of. And yet... I want to keep the company in the family. Do you understand?"

In the family... And me? But that would mean passing the company on to his family, wouldn't it? Director Hanley's only family was...Jeane. Then he meant for me to--

"Not only do I entrust you with my company, but my daughter's hand, if you so desire it. There's no need to answer now, of course, but in another couple of months I intend to have my will secured, just in case. I'm not planning on dying, like I said, but you never know... Accidents will happen, right?"

"...Y-yes, sir." Accidents.

"So, do you get the plan, son? I want you to marry my daughter, and take over the company once I'm gone. How do you feel about it?"

"Sir, I'm...speechless." That's one way to put it!

"Well, take some time to think on it. I know it's a big decision. But, well, a man your age, unmarried...? You're good-looking, son. Don't take it personally; if I were a young man, I'd envy your looks. You'd think you'd have dozens of girls lining up for you. You, ah...don't, though, do you? I mean...you don't...pick up girls...or anything?" he laughed at his words, but there was anxiety in his tone.

"Never," I answered truthfully. I loved the old man like an uncle...or maybe even a father. (I hadn't seen my own father in six years, nor did I want to see him.)

"Well!" The old man was visibly relieved. I guess he thought a man like me must be promiscuous away from work if I had nothing but the job on my mind while at the office. Little did he know... "All right, then, boy! Go get ready for that meeting, okay? We'll give 'em hell!"

"Yes, sir!" I stood and walked across the room, but paused at the door. "Sir? Which clients are we meeting with?"

"Didn't you read you memo? The Nike reps are here."

Oh, wonderful. The report was in my briefcase, somewhere, along with the rest of the files I hadn't finished working on.

I headed back to my office, feeling like I had just begun one terrible day. After that, things could only get better, right?

There's another saying, though, isn't there? ...Something about things going from bad to worse?