Greg & Kelly Ch. 01

The day began the same way it had for the last two years. Get in by 7:30, log onto the computer, see how many pieces of email were waiting to be read and deleting the vast majority because they were minor issues that could wait. That was Greg's life. Single, on the short side of 30 and continuing to work his way up the corporate ladder, his job was to monitor the company's internal network and make sure everything was running smoothly. Issues that arose were parceled out to others who would visit the person's desk and fix whatever was broken.

However, every so often Greg was forced to leave his desk and personally attend to a matter. These incidents were almost always ones which involved someone higher up the chain of command who wanted an instant resolution to a minor problem.

Today seemed to be one of those days. Cynthia Simons, the manager of the field office, had sent him a message marked urgent late last night but which he was only now reading. Apparently she had even less of a life than he did. He at least turned off his pager when work ended though if absolutely necessary he could be reached on his cell phone.

Great. Way to make an impression, Greg thought. He quickly scanned the message and knew instantly what the problem was and how to correct it. At least he could make up for not answering the call last night by making a lightning fast correction.

Waiting for the elevator to arrive, Greg pondered his situation. Not his job. He knew that despite this oversight, his position was secure. No, his mind wandered to his social life. Or lack thereof. It wasn't that he wasn't attractive, almost weekly a woman would seemingly flirt with him when he was at a store or running around. Nor was he the proverbial IT worker. In fact, he seemed to be the opposite of what people consider someone working in the computer field to be. He was articulate, didn't have the 'desk gut' that so many others had and he got along with everyone.

However, Greg wasn't much of a party animal. He didn't like nightclubs since they invariably had a cover charge just to get into the place. He hated having to pay for the privilege to get into a place just to pay for overpriced drinks. Throw in the awful music and the pretentious people prancing about, especially the women who he tagged as gold-diggers the moment he saw them, and he didn't want anything to do with those places.

Because of this self-imposed exile from the party scene, combined with his long hours at work, the opportunity to meet someone of the opposite sex was limited to grocery stores, shopping malls, bookstores and the few other places where people might go.

Ding! The elevator sounded, breaking him from his thoughts and returning him to the reality at hand. The reality being he was to appear before the one person he didn't really want to talk to this early in the morning.

Up he went seven floors. As the doors opened he saw the receptionist's desk come into view. Off to the side, staring into her monitor, was Kelly, Cynthia's assistant. Following the same routine he always did on those rare occasions he visited this floor, he stopped at the desk and waited for his arrival to be noticed.

Kelly turned in her seat, after taking her time to read whatever was on the screen, and looked at Greg leaning on the counter. As soon as she saw him, her eyes brightened and a wide smile crossed her face.

"Hi Greg, what's up?" she asked in an almost too perky voice for this time of the morning.

"I had a message that Cynthia had a problem that needed to be corrected. So here I am."

"Oh. I didn't know she had a problem. She didn't tell me anything," Kelly replied. "While you're here though, could you check out my system. I'm not sure, but I think there's something wrong with it."

'While you're here. . .' Those dreaded words that every worker in the computer industry hates to hear. It's almost like being a doctor and having everyone who finds out what you do wanting medical advice.

Greg was no stranger to this phenomenon. After all, to almost everyone around he was a god among mortals when it came to computers. No problem seemed to exist which he couldn't solve.

Looking at Kelly sitting there, Greg did a quick scan of the owners young assisant, as he always did on those rare occasions when he saw her. White shirt, top three buttons open, the crease between her breasts just visible and a black skirt which rested just above her knees. Her nails were conservatively long and without any coating while her brilliant blonde hair was neatly laid down her back. Top it off with a cute smile, bright blue eyes and one had the quintessential office assistant. How could he resist?

"Sure, not a problem. Let me find out what your boss wants and when I'm done, I'll stop by," Greg finally answered.

"Thanks. I appreciate it," Kelly said, cocking her head slightly to one side and giving him another smile. Turning in her seat, Kelly picked up the phone and pressed a button. Greg waited while his presence was announced.

"Go ahead, Cynthia will see you."

"Okie," Greg said with a friendly smile and off he went, to see what awaited him behind the wooden.

Opening the door, Greg stepped into the oversized office, his feet falling upon the edge of the rug which occupied this part of the room.

"Greg, come on in," he heard from his right. He saw Cynthia looking at him from behind her desk, a pile of papers in front of her. He crossed the room and stopped just in front of her desk.

Doing the quick scan again, Greg had gotten very adept at sizing up a woman within two seconds, he surveyed the scene. Several years older then him, Cynthia was wearing what appeared to be a business uniform that was remarkably simlar to her assistants. A white blouse, possibly silk, open in the front, the lace edge of her white bra just barely visible along one side, and a black skirt though how long he couldn't tell from this position. Her slightly-wavey brunette hair, highlighted by the early morning sunlight coming through the window off to the right, just kissed the collar of her blouse.

"Sorry about not answering your message from last night," Greg began. "I didn't think to check my email at home."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Cynthia said. "I figured it out on my own and forgot to send you a follow-up message telling you to ignore my first message. I'm the one who should be apologizing."

"Oh," Greg replied, not sure what else to say.

"However," Cynthia continued, "would you check the connection under my desk? I seem to be having intermittent connection issues."

"Sure thing," said Greg as he made his way around the desk. As he turned the corner, he saw that Cynthia's skirt was a bit shorter than Kelly's, judging by where it fell on her thighs. He also saw how long her legs were. Or were they? Maybe the length of the skirt was playing an optical illusion on him. He rarely saw Cynthia in the building and the few times he remembered doing so he thought she had been wearing slacks.

Cynthia pushed her chair back and to the side, the wheels effortlessly rolling on the protected wood suface of the floor. She didn't move completely out of the way but enough that Greg could fit under the desk without difficulty.

Greg laid on his side and examined the data jack. It looked like the connection was loose, probably from being kicked one too many times.

As he turned his head to speak to Cynthia from under the desk, his eyes fell upon the legs of his superior. She was situated in her chair such that she was almost parallel with the desk, thus giving Greg a perfect side view. His eyes roamed up and down, admiring the graceful curves of the crossed legs and the smooth, tanned skin. He was almost mesmerized by the way her legs disappeared into her skirt. For a moment his thoughts were not on the job at hand but his professionalism snapped his thoughts back to reality.

"I know what the problem is," he finally said. Getting up from the under the desk, he took another quick glance at those luscious female devices before continuing.

"I need to get some tools and replace the jack. It looks a bit loose. Have you been kicking it with your feet?"

Cynthia looked up at him, the papers she had been reading sitting in her lap.

"I might have. I know that when I'm concentrating on a problem I'm constantly moving my feet around under there."

Greg had a mental image of her legs being crossed and uncrossed, again and again. How he would love to be under the desk when she did that.

"Ok," he answered. "I can fix it, but I'd ask you to be careful from now on. Cables and connectors aren't known for being able to take rough treatment."

"I'll do my best to remember that," Cynthia replied, the beginning of a smile appearing on her mouth, her crossed leg bouncing lightly.

Without another word, Greg left the room and went to get what he needed. He grabbed his toolkit and another jack plate and went back to get things working again. This time he didn't bother to stop at Kelly's desk and went right into the room.

When he entered he saw that Cynthia was still sitting off to the side of the desk only this time, she was leaning back in the chair, her legs up and resting on the desktop. As he got closer, he got another good look at her legs, his heart picking up a few beats at their sight. He saw how long they truly were, tucked between her black heels and her skirt.

Her skirt... As he came up alongside the desk he saw that her skirt was riding much higher on top of her thigh than before and that it had a slit up the side, exposing even more of her leg. He swore that if she leaned back a little bit more the slit would expose her hip.

Again his professionalism intruded and without missing a beat, he crawled back under the desk. Taking out the tools he needed, he deftly removed the damaged data jack. Checking the wiring, he reconnected a loose wire and slipped on the new cover. As he turned to extricate himself, his eyes saw something else. With Cynthia in her reclining position, he could see the underside of her legs. And that wasn't all. For the brief moment he looked, he swore he saw all the way up her skirt to the region where men only dared to look.

Averting his gaze, he backed out of the space and stood up.

"Are you alright?" Cynthia asked, looking up from the papers in her hands, her exposed legs a mere foot or so from him. How he wanted to reach out and run his hand over them, to touch her sensuous skin, to. . .

"Yeah, I'm ok," Greg stammered. "Why?"

"You look a little flushed. Stand up too quick?"

"Eh, maybe," Greg said as nonchalantly as he could. "It'll pass. Just an occupational hazard, is all." He gave her a forced smile in an effort to downplay his current state of overactive imagination.

"You should be as good as new. Let me do a quick check to be sure." Greg bent over and worked his fingers over the keyboard, issuing commands which would check the connection status of Cynthia's computer on the network.

As he did, his peripheral vision caught the movement of her legs being taken down from their position and he felt her move beside him to watch what he was doing, her hands and arms resting on the desktop. Her elbow was almost touching his arm as his fingers flew about in a seemingly disjointed yet somehow organized manner. He smelled her perfume, a floral scent with a hint of spice, and he took what he hoped was a not noticeable deep inhale.

"Okay, you're good to go," he said as he stood up. "I've checked your settings and your response time should be better."

Cynthia leaned back in her chair, giving him a bit of breathing room. "Thanks Greg, I appreciate it. I'll try to be more careful from now on and not kick the connection."

"Occupational hazard, right?" Greg joked.

"I guess," she replied, locking her eyes on his, holding that gaze for a time that seemed to be longer than normal.

Picking up his equipment, Greg left her office and as he stopped at the elevator, cursed under his breath.

"Kelly, you still need my help?" he asked over his shoulder, remembering what he had said earlier.

Looking up from her desk, Kelly's blue eyes seemed especially bright at this moment. All he could do was stare and wait for her answer.

"Would you mind?" Kelly asked in an almost pleading manner. "I know you don't normally do this kind of stuff but I'd like it if you would take a look."

As if he had a choice. Greg walked behind the desk and stood beside Kelly. Like her boss, he saw that Kelly was also wearing a pair of black heels.

"So what's up?" he asked as he put down his tools.

"I'm not sure. My system momentarily freezes at times."

Greg pondered for a moment.

"Could you sit back a bit?" he asked. "I need to get under and look at something."

Kelly obliged him by rolling her chair back and her along with it. Greg once again climbed under a desk and looked at the position of the pc on the floor. He saw that it was pushed as close to the desk panel as it could be, only the cords preventing it from being flush with the panel. He pulled the pc away to give it some breathing room and blew on the backside of the machine to clear away some of the accumulated dust.

As he positioned himself to get up from under the desk, his eyes fell upon Kelly's legs a short distance away. In a similar manner to his first encounter with Cynthia, he saw Kelly's legs in profile. He saw how the tips of her shoes touched the floor while the heels were raised up on the roller of the chair. He also noticed that unlike her boss, Kelly was wearing stockings in a shade which almost perfectly matched her barely tanned skin, giving the appearance that her legs were exceptionally smooth and flawless.

His gaze worked its way up her legs to where they met her skirt. It appeared that half her thigh was exposed and he stared for a moment, imagining what she would look like in a shorter skirt.

"I think I found your problem," Greg said as he got up. "Don't push your pc so far back. You're cutting off the airflow which is overheating the system and causing your lockups."

"Oh," Kelly said, surprised at the quick response and apparently not noticing him staring at her legs just moments before.

"If anything else happens, give me a call," Greg said as he made his way to the elevator. "You have my number."

"Yes I do," he heard Kelly say as he stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for his floor.

Weeks went by without anything remotely interesting happening at work. The usual problems were resolved quickly and the network did its thing without much interference from Greg. He spent his time catching up on documentation and organizing the seemingly unending piles of CDs and floppy disks lying about.

"Intruder alert! Intruder alert!"

Greg looked up from his reading when he heard his customized email notification message. Seeing that it was from Cynthia, he immediately opened the message. Unlike the last time, she didn't need his help. What she did need was his presence at an upcoming get-together that one of the vice presidents of the company was having.

Him? Invited to a party? A real party, not some drunkfest trying to pass as a party? There must be some mistake. His name must have been inadvertently added to the list.

Tapping back a reply message, he queried if he really was invited or if this was some mistake. Within seconds he received his answer: no mistake. He was to come to the party next Saturday.

Now he was confused. Why would he be invited to a party where, he presumed, the majority of people attending would be the upper echelon of the company? What did he have in common with them other than they worked for the same company?

Since he had over a week to get ready, he didn't dwell on the questions flying about his head. Taking up his former position, he buried his thoughts in the thrill-a-minute book in front of him: What You Think You Know About Networks Isn't Enough.

The time between the message and the actual event came and went. On the appointed day Greg was up early, not able to stay in bed like he normally did on a Saturday morning. All those questions that he had last week had returned and he was anxious to get ready.

He had decided to wear something conservative yet casual. In other words, pretty much what he wore to work every day. His attire consisted of khakis with an olive-colored, polo-type shirt and brown, casual shoes.

He arrived at the address just before ten and saw that it was a large house, set back from the main road with a wide drive leading up to it. There were small signs posted at regular intervals along the edge of the drive indicating where people were to park. He diligently followed them around the side of the building and parked his car in the roped off area set aside as a parking lot.

Getting out of his car, he took a quick look to see how many people were already in attendance. Seeing a few small groups of people gathered near and under some tents, he made his way over. The bright sun beating down on this early summer day felt good on his skin. The smell of cut grass still hung in the air though he didn't notice any clippings on the ground.

As he approached the tents, he spied Kelly off to the side talking to what Greg considered to be a handsome man. The man's shirt clung to his large biceps and stretched across his chest. His face had those features that Greg considered annoying: rugged and strong. In other words, someone else he'd have to compete against in life.

"Greg!" he heard his name called out.

He recognized the voice first and then saw that Kelly was waving him over. He had been so intent on sizing up the guy he had tunnel vision. Changing direction, he joined up with the two.

"Nice to see you here Greg," Kelly cheerfully greeted him. She extended her hand which he took and gave a short but firm shake.

"This is Carl. He's from the home office."

"Hi Carl. I'm Greg, as you no doubt already know." Greg extended his hand in a polite gesture.

Carl took Greg's hand and almost swallowed it in his grip. Carl was obviously one of those guys who worked out every day and liked showing off at every opportunity.

"Hello Greg. Kelly had mentioned you earlier. So you're the computer whiz at her office?"

"Well, I wouldn't call myself a whiz," Greg replied. "I just like doing what I do."

"Glad to hear that. We could use more people like you. Without our network, we'd be sunk."

No kidding, dipshit, Greg thought to himself. Why did people always state the obvious?

"Well, I have some butt kissing to do," Carl quickly said before Greg could reply. "One would think that working fifty hour weeks would be enough for these people but apparently not. You two take it easy. Kelly, hope to see you around later today." Carl gave Greg another handshake as well as Kelly and made his way to a nearby group of people.

"Am I glad to see you," Kelly said in a hushed tone as Carl walked away. "He's a nice guy and all but he's not my type and he wasn't taking my hints."

"Hints?" Greg asked.

"You know, like looking elsewhere, shifting my weight from foot to foot. Those hints. He wouldn't leave."

"Well, considering that dress, and who's wearing it, I wouldn't want to leave either," Greg blurted out. Did he really just say that?

Kelly seemed to blush and looked down at the drink in her hand. This gave Greg an opportunity for his quick scan. When he had first seen her all he saw was that she was wearing a white, strapless dress which reminded him of a cocktail dress since it fell to mid-calf. The dress was comfortably snug up top, her breasts pushed up slightly from below, but flared out below the waist allowing it to swing free. Up close he saw that there was a faint floral pattern to the dress and she had a small string of pearls around her neck.

"Thank you," Kelly quietly said as she raised her head. Her sparkling blue eyes looked into his for a moment before turning away.