You're Not Sexy

Ian liked to consider himself a sexy specimen.

True to his unwavering self-esteem, he wanted nothing less than equally sexy for his partner. Like many people, he judged based on physical appearance. This meant, of course, that he was always surrounded by beautiful people, at least when he could help it. His friends, girlfriends, co-workers, and even waiters were attractive. However, while he enjoyed being in the company of attractive people, of said people could be more attractive than him. That would just be horribly unfair. If he and his significant other walked down the street together – not that he would, he had a car, thank you – people would stare at his girlfriend, and who wanted that?

Girls with self-esteem royally pissed him off. Girls with self-esteem realized what an insufferably arrogant person he was, and actually had the option of leaving him. He couldn't count the number of times he'd been broken up with because some girl had gotten the idea that she was better than him. Now, he had to choose carefully – there weren't many beautiful girls who weren't aware of the fact that they were beautiful, at least not as much as movies and television would have people believe. He had believed it for a while, and had gone after the nerdy types, only to find they were just as ugly underneath the clothes.

At the law office Ian worked – of course – there were a number of beautiful women, all of which who looked simply ravishing in a pencil skirt.

He sat back in his chair, relishing whatever free time he had, ignoring the stack of case files on his desk. His office door was open, allowing the sounds of people and papers to focus him on relaxing. Over the murmur of voices, however, he could hear one particular tone, authoritative and matter-of-fact, and he knew Lila was having a conversation.

Fresh out of college, Lila was a measly paralegal, one who chose to wear slouchy trousers instead. It didn't matter to him - she was a paralegal, after all – but what did intrigue him was her fiery personality. She had quick-whip arguments with people, from what he'd observed on many a coffee break, and could hold her own against some of the most reputable lawyers in the office. It made Ian wonder why she was a college grad when she could've gone all the way.

He smirked. All the way. The prude probably never had a hand up her shirt, let alone having sex with someone.


Lila enjoyed her paralegal duties. She'd chosen a different path after leaving high school, getting a diploma as a legal assistant instead of going straight to university. This way, at least, she could work for a bit, get experience, and then go back to school and get her degree. From the conversations she'd had with some of these lawyers, she was reasonably sure she'd be able to handle them in a courtroom.

There was a pile of papers on her desk, and all needed to go to Ian Fletcher's office. Now there was the cockiest, most arrogant jerk she'd ever had the pain of working with. He carried himself like any other lawyer, except he did it with an irritatingly handsome grin. She knew most of his confidence stemmed from the fact that he was attractive… and he knew it.

He was also one of those men who liked to look at women, and not just in an appraising way, but in the disgusting, invasive way creepy old men liked to. And the problem with it was that none of the girls minded. Because he was so goddamn attractive. Lila hated his good looks. And not in a sexual way at all – he sailed through everything he did with a wink and a grin, while she was slowly working her way up to the position he was in right now. His father owned this law office, and Ian had simply inherited it.

Lila picked up the papers and marched to his office, figuring she'd just drop everything off and be done with it. How wrong she was.

He was smoking, all of the windows in his large – entirely too large – office open and a light breeze filtering the nicotine-laced smoke out. He had a few of his office friends with him, and they looked to be discussing – what else? – women. More specifically, the women at the office.

"Gina has a nice, tight arse, doesn't she?" one man – Bill – said, grinning. He was attractive enough, with a pair of modern glasses that flattered his face.

"It's nice enough," said Ian, bored. "All the women here have nice tight arses. I want a little more junk in the trunk, if you know what I mean." He took a drag from the cigarette.

"There aren't any women like that here," said Bill. "You can't wear a pencil skirt when you've got fat jiggling all over the place."

Lila put down the papers, the rustling sound alerting the men to her presence. Ian's gaze brightened – probably when he smelled her trampy, gifted tropical perfume – but when he saw her, he rolled his eyes. "What are you doing here, Lila?" he asked, not even bothering to look at her.

"Delivering your papers," she said haughtily. "And trying not to listen to your disgusting conversation."

He swivelled in his chair to face her. "Why? Because you have nothing whatsoever to contribute?" he replied, raising his eyebrows in a triumphant manner.

She snorted. "I don't look at women's behinds." Ian's friends chuckled.

"I was talking about the fact that you have neither a tight arse nor do you have a large one. You just have a little bump where an arse ought to be." Now, they laughed. Ian took a puff from the ciggie and blew the smoke in her direction. She swatted it away, irritated.

"And how would you know that?" she demanded.

Ian inclined his head, taking one look at her shapeless trousers and then back up at her face. "Trust me, I've had experience with women like you. There's nothing spectacular under those… things," he wrinkled his nose, apparently refusing to call her pants clothes, "contrary to popular belief."

"Oh, really?" said Lila, putting her hands on her hips.

"Yeah, really," grinned Ian. "Short of taking off your clothes, there's no way you can prove me wrong."

"Fine," said Lila, huffing. She turned to close the door, which slammed loudly, startling Ian's previously bored friends. They watched with widened eyes as Lila removed her glasses, tossing them carelessly onto Ian's desk, and began to take off her clothes. Ian accidentally stubbed out his cigarette on the fabric of the chair, he was so surprised.

"Wait, wait, wait," said Ian, stopping her. "You're actually going to do it?"

"What do you think?" she grunted, fiddling with the buttons of her blouse. Ian stood from his chair and put his hand on hers. For a second, she thought he was going to say something along the lines of "It's okay, I believe you," or perhaps "Don't sully your reputation for me." But then she remembered who she was dealing with.

"Why don't you four go?" said Ian instead, gesturing to the door. There was a short pause before Bill stood up. The others followed suit, awkwardly avoiding looking at Lila, and closed the door behind them. Ian's hand fell away from her blouse. "Alright. Continue," he said casually, going to sit on the chair across from her. He crossed his legs, waiting expectantly.

What had seemed like a good idea about five seconds ago was now uncomfortable and extremely nerve-wracking, especially when Ian was staring at her like that. Lila stood still for a moment, before letting her hands fall to her sides. "I – "

"Realized it, did you?" said Ian, a little smirk emerging on his face. "You're not sexy."

Her brow furrowed in anger. "I am too!"

"Alright," he said, amused, "then prove it."

She stood helplessly, wanting to prove conceited, overconfident Ian wrong, but not managing to summon the courage to remove her clothes in the middle of his office.

"I – I can't," she finally admitted, defeated.

"Would it help if I removed your clothes for you?" asked Ian. She looked up, surprised, but he had stood and was approaching her with that same smirk. Before Lila could respond, he had his hands on the buttons she'd been fumbling with, unbuttoning painstakingly slow, watching her with something alight in his dark, seductive eyes. Her mouth went dry, and she quickly licked her lips. His smirk broadened.

He dropped the shirt to the floor, revealing her plain white bra. His head tilted as he appraised her, an eyebrow arching in pleasant surprise.

"Not bad," he murmured. "Now, let's see that arse."

It was a little easier now, to shimmy out of the trousers. When Lila stood half-naked in Ian's office, her undergarments on full display, her face reddened with embarrassment, he circled her and from behind herself, Lila could hear him chuckle.

"Well, I'll be damned."

She turned to face him. "What?"

"You've got junk in your trunk," he grinned.


A/N: Just a little one-shot. Review, please =D


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