Prettiest Girl in the Room

(A few years back I was putting in a new air conditioning unit at this bank. When on lunch, a female teller told me a story about this beautiful black chick, Candice, that had worked there. Because she had such a nice personality and was so 'mag cover gorgeous,' it seems she was courted by at least three different handsome men at once. These Guys didn't have eyes for anyone else because Candice was easily the prettiest girl in the room. The only question was, who on earth was she going to choose?)

*****

She sat her box down on the small mahogany desk and looked around. Was this what she had spent the last five years at an Ivy-league college for? A ten by ten office with no windows and grimy broadloom whose prolific wear and tear made it more suitable for airport use? Still, it was better than standing in an unemployment line, howbeit just barely.

"Hi. You must be Candice."

His words grated on her nerves. Of course she was Candice. Just how many young ladies with a box full of personal belongings standing in an office with a new nameplate of 'Candice' on the door where there?

"Yes," she said, manufacturing a smile from scratch.

He seemed taken aback by her dazzling white teeth, lush velvety lips, and long, silky smooth black legs. His cheeks turned a little pink as she caught him roaming with presumptuous eyes at her impressive cleavage. She never had a problem causing the tongues of men to dangle out of their lust filled heads before, and she wasn't about to have a problem soliciting such stares now.

She had the nick-name of 'ebony goddess' among her friends.

"I'm Brian, Brian Tomilson. I'm the Assistant Bank Manager," he said, extending a hand that she now felt obligated to shake. Howbeit she hesitated. She was always wary of shaking men's hands. You could never trust members of the male sex to sufficiently wash their appendages in the morning, neither be certain they hadn't been playing with themselves the night before.

"You're black," he said, causing her eyes to widen and her lips to purse.

"You're quite a perceptive man, Brian," she said, almost sarcastically, regretting the words the instance they left her mouth. Office politics could be brutal, and she knew that you had to sometimes babysit grown men along with their asinine comments. Making fun of someone so early on without knowing what kind of pull they had, was a recipe for regret later on. She immediately sought to temper the mood.

She smiled more broadly and shook his hand with some plastic but generously measured enthusiasm. "Very nice to meet you Brian."

Her new mood placated him.

"Likewise," he offered. "I have a meeting in about thirty seconds, so I'm kind of on the run. But when I'm through I'd like to show you around. I know you've already been to head office for the two day orientation, but working in the branch itself isn't always as easy as they make it seem. And then, after the tour, we can go for lunch at noon. There's a nice Italian place just around the corner. I always like to have a working lunch where I can take time to go over the finer details."

She focused more keenly on his face, milky white, with long but coiffured brown hair, very nice blue eyes, and dimples that were beyond adorable. As far as making male friends at the office, she supposed he was a particularly good place to start, especially since he wore no wedding ring on his tell-tale finger. Messing with married men was a definite taboo for her. She'd rather be boiled in oil and buried alive than venture into another woman's territory.

"Sure, a working lunch sounds nice," she managed, willing to be friendly with an Assistant Bank Manager if valuable friendships resulted.

A twinge of apprehension gripped her as Brian walked off. She watched his dreamy broad shoulders out of the corner of her eye. He was a very nice looking man, very handsome, and very buff. He also seemed so very bubbly and sincere, although she had no illusions that only time would tell. Judging a book by its cover rarely told you what was inside. She made a mental note to place a question mark next to his name.

"Not much of an office, is it?"

The female voice startled Candice, and she clutched her chest for a moment, then turned to face a woman standing directly behind her. An open door in the most unlikely of places told her how she had so mysteriously gotten into the room behind her.

"I hope I didn't startle you. All the rooms are interconnected like that. There are two doors in each. One for the lobby and one for the next room. But don't worry, you can lock them whenever you like."

"A very strange setup," she admitted, adding "not much privacy, unless you lock the door, but it is what it is, I guess. I'm Candice."

"So I heard. I'm Mable. Mr. Doherty's personal secretary. I was just chatting with Helen next door and I noticed you standing here."

"Helen?"

"Yeah, she mostly does mortgages."

"Same as me?"

"Not exactly. You might do some, but I think they have you mainly pegged to do commercial loans to start. But any of the other loan officers can do commercial loans as well. So if you get swamped, just give them a holler. They usually all end up pitching in before the day is through."

Candice sighed. Mortgages were so much easier. With commercial loans you ran the risk of overvaluing the assets, lending out too much money so that when a company went under, the bank would lose its shirt. Companies always wildly overstated the values of their inventories. But with mortgages, as long as house prices rose over time, you could do no wrong.

"Do you think she can take someone yet?"

The new voice belonged to Sandra, the front desk lady, and Mable glared at her with disdain. "She just barely got in through the door. At least give Candice here a chance to get settled in."

"So what should I tell the customer? Daphne called in sick and Rachel's on break."

"Why don't you do it?"

"Duh? I'm manning the front desk, remember?"

"Fine, we'll look after it."

"I'll send him in."

Mable sighed. "Sorry Candice. It looks like they're not so much as going to give you a minute to get settled in. I'm sure you have a million questions about what to do and-"

"I'll be fine. Not to worry. I just completed the two day orientation at head office before this, so I know how to go about filling out the loan apps and what questions to ask clients."

"Good, although it still irks me that you've just arrived and they're not even giving you time to pick your nose."

"That's alright. I'm not the nose picking type anyways."

Mable smiled. "Okay then, I'll leave you to it, but I'm not even sure if that computer on your desk is working or if you have all the forms you need in that filing cabinet. Oh, by the way, here are today's memos."

"Today's memos?"

"Yeah, you know, things handed down by the boss, or from different departments. Sometimes policies change or special requests are made, that sort of thing."

"Gotcha. I'll read them first chance I get."

"You do that."

Candice began unpacking the box onto her desk, starting with one of her two university degrees which she hung on a hook already stuck in the wall from the previous worker. Then she noticed Mable was still standing there.

"What happened to the last person that worked in this office before today?" Candice asked.

"Promoted to head office," Mable answered, pausing her exit from the office, and adding, "they're not shy about bumping people up the ladder here if you're willing to keep your nose to the grindstone a little, or at least brown nose a lot."

"I'm not much of a brown nose, actually."

"They all say that when they first start, but you'll learn sooner if not later. It's sink or swim in this cesspool honey. I'm sure you'll end up doing whatever it takes to survive in this place. Jobs are hard to come by."

"And yet, we're not really started off very high, are we? Fourteen dollars an hour?"

"Raises come over time. A quarter here, a dollar there, but if you're really smart you won't write any bad loans. They don't like people that fuck up here. Better safe than sorry, if you know what I mean."

"Don't lend to losers? I think I got that drift before I even walked through the door."

"Hope you don't consider me to be a loser."

The strange, unexpected male voice startled the two women. They turned to look behind them. Mable was mortified that a customer had heard them used a derogatory slur, and sought to extricate herself from the situation.

"Ah, your client is here, so I'll just be off now."

She turned and sped away on her scampering feet, not waiting for Candice to offer an obligatory 'bye.'

"Hi, I'm Candice," she managed, smiling at the male client standing there. She then shook off her embarrassment at being overheard. Clients were supposed to knock before they entered an office, or at least say hi from an already opened doorway before stepping across the threshold.

"Eric Holding," he said, flashing a smile that was more unique than dazzling. She had met a man once with such great thick reddish lips, but he had turned out to be gay. She let her eyes run the gauntlet of his supremely muscular six foot two inch frame. If he were gay it would certainly be the biggest waste of sizzling hot male flesh in the history of the world. His face seemed far more angelic than merely ruggedly handsome.

First Brian and now Eric. She sighed. Didn't any ugly men ever come into the bank?

"Won't you sit down?" she asked, pointing to an empty space behind him. It suddenly dawned on her that some bonehead at some time had absconded with her two client chairs to use elsewhere, then never returned them. She felt acutely embarrassed by not having noticed it before.

"Sorry. It's my first day here and someone has made off with the chairs that would normally be-"

He smiled. "Let me get one," he said. "I saw one just sitting out in the corridor a minute ago."

"Thanks, Mr. Holding," she muttered sheepishly.

"Please, call me Eric," he said as he turned to walk out and snatch the missing chair.

He returned quickly, then plunked the chair directly down in front of her desk. He waited for her to sit first.

She eyed him cautiously. Acting gentlemanly didn't always ensure a guy was a gentleman. She recalled she had read once in a Sunday School holy book that wolves often went about disguised in sheep's clothing.

"So then, Eric, what can I help you with today?" she asked as she slipped into her chair, watching him do likewise. It was the second time in one day that she had seen a man with remarkable dimples. The first had been Brian a few minutes earlier, but Eric's were just as spectacular. She tried not to let on that her breath was taken away by how incredibly handsome he was. Instead, she took out her note pad and prepared to scribble down information.

He wanted ten million dollars. The thought tickled her fancy. Didn't we all? He wanted to renovate his new home. She tried not to smirk. Didn't we all? His home had barely any equity in it, which, in this volatile real estate market, negated him from being able to take out a mortgage, hence his desire to go for a business loan.

He was a romance author. That tickled her fancy even more. Which woman in her right mind would ever read about the affairs of the heart from a man?

Candice found it hard to contain her glee when he suggested he should obtain his loan with cushy repayment plans and an interest rate far below standard business or home loans.

She eventually couldn't resist cracking a smile. Then she emitted a light chuckle from her gorgeous black lips. He picked up on her skepticism.

"You find all of this amusing?"

"I'm sorry," she explained. "I've never heard of a man writing romance novels before. And wanting to use the royalties on your current books as collateral? I don't think I've ever heard of that being done before, well, maybe with household authors like Stephan King. But an unknown like yourself?"

"I'll have you know my books are consistently making the top ten best-selling lists of the New York Times."

"Forgive me for saying so, but I am an avid romance reader and I, quite frankly, have never even heard of you."

A look of despondency flashed across his ultra-handsome face. Her words of rebuttal had come across as being rather harsh. He didn't, therefore take them in stride, but rather felt somewhat offended.

"I've been dealing with this bank for years, and the company publishing my books has dozens of best-selling authors doing a hundred million dollars' worth of business with your bank branches worldwide. I've always viewed this as a very progressive bank," he said, clearly agitated. He had, not only a chip on his shoulder, but a sense of entitlement as well. Selling millions of books yearly under five female author's names had led him to believe that securing the loan he needed to renovate and furnish his breathtaking mansion would have been a slam dunk. He sucked in his breath and rolled his eyes at the ceiling. His average monthly royalties were well over a half a million. A ten million dollar loan, therefore, was not out of line, especially when the bank's head office had already guaranteed him the loan. Plus he had no other debts and could see no reason why Candice was acting so snarky. He wondered if perhaps she was merely in over her head. He had been told that it was her very first day on the job.

"Your own head office suggested I come here today. But I guess there is no sense with us proceeding further if you've already made up your mind you're not contemplating approving the loan," Eric said, rising to his feet. "At any rate, it was nice meeting you, but you are obviously of an opinion that I should take my business elsewhere, so that is exactly what I will do."

With those well-chosen words, he spun on his heels and exited her office.

She smiled wryly as she watched his broad shoulders and sexy features move quickly away from her. If he had of been asking her for a date as opposed to a loan, then things would have turned out a whole lot differently. Along with Brian, Eric was easily the most gorgeous hunk of prime man she had seen in a long time, but what he was asking for was something straight out of a comic book. A guy looking for millions of dollars because he fancied himself as some kind of high flying romance novelist? A guy 'claiming' that head office had sent him to scoop up ten million dollars because he wanted to buy a few drapes and change a few rugs? Get real.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

The velvety rich voice of Brian Tomilson once again sweetly accosted her ears.

Hunk number two, just like clockwork.

Candice broke out into an ear to ear smile. Not only had she found her last client and his half-baked plan amusing, but the man now standing in front of her certainly had possibilities where securing a boyfriend was concerned. Brian was up and coming, seemed to have all the right connections in the bank, and was very good looking. Plus he dressed hip and modern, a must where she was concerned.

"Just trying to get my feet wet is all," she said, giving him a much closer once over with pretty brown eyes that he noted radiated with warmth and charm.

"The reason I popped by is because you parked in the wrong spot," he informed her. "And the bank manager's a little pissed about it. Pissing off the boss on your very first day is a definite no-no around here. Third from the left belongs to Mr. Doherty, the bank manager. I know the spots are not marked, but you need to learn not to park anywhere else but your allotted spot. Otherwise-"

She felt mortified and rose quickly. "Nuff said. I'll move my car at once."

He motioned to her to stay. "No need. He mentioned to me that he will simply remain in your spot for the rest of the day, seeing as he has a full slate of meetings in house, but tomorrow-"

"Tomorrow I'll park in the right spot, promise."

He gave her the trigger finger, trying to look savvy. "You catch on quick girl. Don't forget our lunch date later."

"I won't," she managed, feeling a little uncomfortable at having fucked up over parking, and also over his loose use of the word 'date.' It was supposed to be a working business lunch to help acclimate her to new policies she may not yet be aware of, such as where to park. She hoped he wasn't going to try and bully his way into her personal life, unless, of course, he were going to learn her dating rules first. If he did make a play for her, she was determined he would meet with a rude but cautiously receptive awakening. Although she was friendly, personable, and never one to toss away potential boyfriends without at least giving them the once over, she was determined not to be intimate too early on in any relationship. And she was also determined to be sure that any new man in her life thoroughly understood and accepted those boundaries.

She took a closer look at his face, and noticed a slight application of what looked like blush just above his lip. Was he trying to hide acne? Or a cold sore perhaps? Surely not herpes? Maybe herpes? She wondered. Dating had become a virtual minefield, and she was only too well aware that women had to be very careful trying to maneuver the dozens of up and coming dating sites that seemed to spring up almost overnight.

Although she was an extremely attractive woman, he herself belonged to two of them, and had the rip off credit card charges to prove it. For all the money they had sucked off her card in the past three months, she had men jamming her inbox with thousands of date requests, but she had only dated two of them. Neither 'smelled' of perfection, and she wanted to meet Mr. Perfection, not just Mr. Right. She had heard horror stories of how trusting women mostly came across men who either didn't look anything like their pictures, or who, upon closer scrutiny were liars already married. Others still, so the warnings went, were unemployed leeches looking for a fast handout and an even faster roll in the hay. She was resolute that no man, whether black or white, was ever going to use her. Not ever.

"We'll have to leave for lunch a little early," he spat out. "That place is always packed and the wait is twenty minutes just to get a damn table. So before noon for sure." Then he regurgitated the trigger finger once more until he spun around and marched away.

She sighed. He certainly did look promising and dreamy from the back, as well as from the front. He looked almost as hot as the 'romance' novelist Eric had looked. She managed a smile. If she were looking to meet hot, financially well off bachelor men, a large progressive bank like this was a great place to do it in. And if that was the case, she certainly didn't need those damn useless dating sites anymore!

"I brought you coffee," said Mable, making her jump. Her office door was still ajar from Brian's exit, and she hadn't yet gotten used to people pushing their heads passed the door without knocking, and catching her off guard with 'hellos' and conversations coming at her from out of nowhere.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," Mable said, watching as Candice placed a hand to her generous cleavage in alarm, not the first time she had done that during the day.

"I have my break about this time every morning," Mable continued. "So I generally do a coffee run and include my girlfriends. I'm not being presumptuous in assuming you'll want to be one of my girlfriends, am I? After all, this bank is a bit of a male jungle as you'll soon find out. All the managers are men and many of them are chauvinistic. We ladies have to stick together and have each other's backs, if you know what I mean."

"Don't worry," Candice agreed. "I know exactly what you mean, although college doesn't prepare us for working in a man's world. So it's nice when we can encourage each other and stick together. I've heard so many nasty stories about what to expect at any workplace with women fighting against women, so this bank is a nice surprise."