The office kitchen/lounge area was standard issue: black modern-looking shelves and cupboards, stainless steel fridge and appliances, white microwave and white linoleum countertops with white linoleum-tile flooring, all under a semi-welcoming fluorescent glow. Included were one black table and an array of typical office kitchen black plastic chairs, the sort with metal framing. There was also a couch in the corner. I made a beeline for the fridge, pulled the silver door open, and began foraging for food. There wasn’t too much: assorted condiments, water, a half-empty liter of Dr. Pepper, some celery, a small jar of olives, a salad and a chicken sandwich. I took half the sandwich and the jar of olives and let the heavy door fall shut on its own.

I managed to get the jar open by holding the sandwich in the crook of my arm so as to use both hands. I ate the olives as I walked, but fumbled the first and it fell, hitting the floor with an audible smack. The pimento exploded out of the olive like the cork out of a wine bottle. I bent, picked up the olive, and – five second rule – popped it into my mouth. The pimento, however, I fished out from under a desk and, after a nanosecond of consideration, threw it in a nearby trash can.

The main room was dim, the ceiling lights off, the only illumination being the undulating light of computer screen savers leaking out of the cubicles. Most of them left their computers on through the night. I was working a bit late, but didn’t really mind. The privacy of the empty office was enjoyable.

My cubicle was small and like the others’, was lit up only by my computer screen. Almost nothing on the screen, however, was work-related. I was reading a web article that mentioned the company I’d been slaving for for a year, but aside from that all I was doing was checking my email and various other sites. It was 8:45; I knew I should be at home or at least headed there. This was the third day in a row I’d stayed late at work, but I didn’t have anyone to go home to or any commitments whatsoever and thus did not feel at all guilty. There was a reason for my staying late, of course: the new night watchman. Tall, dark, handsome; I didn’t mind the cliché because of the package it came in. God had never made anything more beautiful. Some of my friends at work and I were sure he was a night guard because he’d flunked out of high school for having too much sex and not doing any homework.

8:55. I decided to start packing up. I signed out of all my windows, gathered up my things, shut down my computer, and left my cubicle.

My footsteps echoed down the deserted hall. I was wearing killer heels: killer in the sense that they made my legs look a mile long, but also in the sense that my feet were killing my. My skirt flowed around my legs. I did a fancy little ‘I’m-sexy’ walk in the empty hallway and wondered if I should continue walking that way or if it looked too stupid.

I decided to revert back to my normal walk. At least I knew I didn’t look stupid doing that. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to go for a pretty tousled look. Come on, the night guard was really hot.

I checked my reflection in the shiny elevator walls. Tousled look achieved. The elevator came to a stop at the ground floor and I got out.

Headed straight for the front desk.

“Hey,” I smiled, propping my arms up on the counter.

“Hey,” the guy replied, nose stuck in a book. A book? Wow, sexy and smart.

“Whatcha reading?” I asked, leaning over the counter to get a glimpse of the cover. I saw him glance at my cleavage. Score one.

“Er.” He said, and tried to shove the book out of the way.

“No- come on!” I grinned, and grabbed the book from him. Shopaholic and Sister. “Oh, God,” I said, and started laughing.

He grabbed it back from me and glared. He crossed his arms. Wow, what sexy arms he had. But I was still laughing and he was still glaring.

“No,” I said, with a final chuckle. “That’s cute that you read chick lit.”

His glare faded, but he raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“No, really,” I insisted, smiling.

“I’ll have you know, my sister left it in my apartment yesterday, so it’s not mine. And it was the only thing I could find. I was running late tonight.”

“Okay, sure.” I kept smiling. He sighed.

“Is there anything in particular you’d like?”

Yeah, you and me alone in the elevator.

“I can’t just stop to talk to a fellow human being?”

“It’s nine at night. Most people don’t stop to talk to the night guard when they’ve stayed four hours overtime.”

“Yeah, well, most night guards aren’t as hot as you are.”

Oh… Shit. But I couldn’t take it back so I stared him down instead. Thanks, big mouth, for making me take the bold route. But he smiled. I sighed inwardly in relief; on the outside I wore a flirty half-smile. When I saw his eyes flick to my chest again, I decided to take another step.

“Well, it being so late and all…” I started, “Do you mind walking me to my car?”

He considered it for a moment.

“I’m sure the office will be fine for a minute,” I said. He paused and surveyed the outside through the glass double doors. Then:

“All right.” He got up and walked out from behind the counter.

Score two.

“By the way, what’s your name?” I asked as we walked. He had his hands in his pockets and walked casually.

“Eric,” he replied. He glanced at me. “Yours?”

“I’m Andy,” I smiled.

“Andy,” he repeated. “Cute.”

“Thank you.”

The rest of the walk was spent in a nice silence. I didn’t feel that anything really needed to be said and apparently neither did he. We walked inches apart and it seemed like I could feel the heat emanating from body, his right arm especially, and my arm tingled each time our arms brushed each other.

The night was cold and seemed very dark where landscaped trees cast multiple overlaying shadows here and there. Planes flying overhead acted as pseudo stars, taking the place of the real stars that didn’t have the strength to shine through the city’s light-saturated night sky. The parking lot was awash in that orange streetlight that saps color and seeks to turn everything the same shade as the burnt sienna color of the lamp the light emanates from. There were five cars in the parking lot. All too soon we were standing in front of mine.

“Thanks,” I said again.

As I set my bag on the hood and got out my keys it began to get awkward. Eric bid me good night and started to walk away, but I grabbed his arm. He turned to look at me, eyebrow raised again. Then I pushed him against the car and kissed him. Three scary seconds passed, and just as I started to panic, he kissed me back. Ah, score three. Then he flipped me over and pressed me against the car. I dropped my keys, but I don’t think either of us heard the metallic crash they made on the asphalt.

He broke away first. “I don’t even know you,” he said, looking at me seriously. In the dim light I couldn’t tell what color his eyes were.

“I know,” I said. I moved to kiss him again but he ducked back. He pushed away from me and the car. Okay, back down to two.

“I need to… to go back-” He glanced toward the building and ran a hand over his hair. Then he looked back at me.

“I know,” I said again.

“Sorry.” He seemed genuinely apologetic.

“No. It’s my fault.”

“Yeah…” He looked at the ground. I continued looking at him.

“Yeah.”

A pause. Again, he let up first. His eyes flickered up to mine.

“See you.” He walked off. I smiled slightly as I watched him stride back to the office building, hands in his pockets.

“Hm.”

I picked up my keys, unlocked the car, grabbed my bag and tossed it over onto the passenger’s seat. I was just about to climb in when something slammed me against the back door.

“Oh, sh-“

My exclamation was cut off by a rather familiar mouth.

“I thought you barely knew me,” I said breathlessly. He shook his head.

“Fuck that.”

Then his mouth was on mine again. One hand cradled my head; the other began moving up between my thighs. Finally his fingers found purchase, eliciting a small gasp from me. Oh God, score infinity. I could feel him smile against my neck as he planted kisses there. My left hand was busy running through and tugging his hair; my right seized the wrist of the hand caressing me. I moaned quietly, eyes closed and head resting against the car.

“Damn,” he said, broke off, and grabbed my keys. Suddenly it occurred to me, as it must just have to him a second prior, that we were heading for third base in a dark office parking lot. He pocketed my keys and locked my car back up. “Come on,” he said, and pulled me by the hand, leading me back toward the office. I followed, still a little woozy from what he’d been doing a minute earlier. As we entered and then crossed the light-filled lobby, heading in the direction of the elevators, I grinned. We were so right.

He’d definitely flunked out of high school for having too much sex and not doing any homework.