Blackout

Kristine Atterbury, Contributor

It was the kind of Friday when no one should have to go to work. The weathermen had predicted thunderstorms and, sure enough, dark, heavy clouds lit up by lightning settled in the skies early that morning.

When the power went out shortly after 10 a.m., there was a collective rumble in the office, as people murmured in annoyance. I leaned my chair away from my desk, half-hoping the power would stay out so we could go home. Of course, it came back. The lights flickered once, twice, then stayed on.

"Alright people!" I looked around to see Lora, our tiresome office administrator, standing in the middle of the office, shoulders back, hands on her hips, as if she was holding court. "Get back to work!"

I gave her the finger while her back was turned and began the tedious process of getting my computer to start up again. Under my breath, I was imitating Lora's nasal voice, so when she appeared at my desk, I almost fell out of my chair.

"Anna." She fixed her beady, bespectacled eyes on me.

"Lora." I stared right back at her.

"I need you to go to the 12th floor and get the project requests from Mr Whittingham.

Gorgeous, sexy and single

Suddenly, all the female eyes in the immediate area flicked to me. James Whittingham was an asset manager. He was also - if you listened to the lunchroom gossip - gorgeous, sexy and single. He went to the gym every day after work and some hapless souls had even signed up for gym memberships they couldn't afford, just for a chance to see him.

I was not one of them. He was good looking, sure but he was high enough in the company to be intimidating. I'd seen him ream out a receptionist once for mixing up his appointments and she had gone home in tears. I had also heard rumours of him getting a little too friendly with some of the female staff. Obviously they didn't mind, but I had a personal grudge against players. Plus, he was just too good-looking, his teeth too white, his shoulders too broad, his mocha-coloured skin too smooth. He was just too handsome, too unattainable, his brown eyes lovely and deep and ...

"Anna, are you listening?" Lora demanded. I started, and looked at her. "I need those reports from yesterday," she said.

I plastered a smile. "No problem. I'll go get them."

I felt the looks of envy from every woman in the office as I walked down the hallway towards the doors that led to the elevators. I rolled my eyes at them.

As I waited for the elevator, the lights flickered again. It would be safer to take the stairs, which meant eight flights before I got to Mr Whittingham's floor. I sighed. At least my thighs would benefit.

By the time I got to floor 11, I was panting and my hair was sticking to my neck. I was wearing it dead straight with a heavy fringe of bangs over my eyes. I pulled it away from my neck, hoping it wouldn't frizz.

I was dragging myself up the last set of stairs when the heavy door at the top opened and James Whittingham walked through it.

"Miss Hurley." he said, his voice deep and rich in the echo of the stairwell. The door slammed shut behind him.

I stood straight and tried to control my panting. "I came to ... get the ... project requests."

He held up a sheaf of papers.

"I was just bringing them down. It's not a good idea to take the elevators right now."

As soon as the words left his mouth, the lights in the stairwell went out, leaving us in total darkness.

An expletive slipped from my lips before I could stop myself.

He laughed softly. "Hold on," he said, his voice coming closer. I heard footsteps coming down the stairs, then his hand found mine. His grip was warm and strong.

"Umm..." I started to protest, but he only held my hand tighter.

"We should try to get to the first floor and exit the building that way," he said. "I don't think the power is coming back for now."

"Why don't we just go back upstairs and wait?"

"That doesn't make sense," he replied. "How will we get back through the door if the power's out?"

I could think of a number of things wrong with his logic but I allowed myself to be led down the stairs. He held his BlackBerry in front of us for light, as we made our way gingerly down the stairs.

I wondered if it was necessary to move at this snail's pace.

"Shouldn't we move faster?" I asked.

And then I tripped. Naturally. The four-inch heels I was wearing weren't made for trekking up and down stairs in darkness. My right foot slid off the edge of the stair a little too quickly and down I came, landing on my bottom.

Off-guard kiss

I heard an intake of breath that might have been a laugh but I couldn't tell.

"Are you okay, Miss Hurley?"

He reached for me, but I batted his hand away. I stood up carefully, straightening my skirt, annoyed and embarrassed.

And then James Whittingham kissed me.

The kiss caught me completely off guard. There was no preamble to it, no lean-in, no gazing into my eyes, no staring at my mouth the way a man usually does before he swoops in. The stairwell was too dark to see his face very well, but still. It all happened very quickly. I stood up, holding on to the wall for support, he asked again if I was okay and then he was kissing me. Just like that.

I didn't respond, all I could do was stand stock-still, while his mouth covered mine. I did have time to register that he tasted like cinnamon and he smelled like Old Spice. Very nice. Then it was over, and he had leaned back. In the dark I thought I could see a faint smile of self-satisfaction on his face.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, as if I was disgusted. He wasn't fooled one bit. I looked down at my left shoe. "The heel is broken," I said stupidly.

"So it is," he said smoothly, and reached down to slide it off my foot, his fingers brushing against the smooth silk of my hose. He took off the other shoe, lingering longer this time. By the time he stood to face me, I was breathing heavily again.

"That was a little inappropriate," I said finally.

"I think it was completely appropriate," he replied.

"You kissed me!" I exclaimed, my voice echoing through the stairwell. "With tongue!"

"Oh you noticed?"

I hoped he didn't think I was going to have sex with him just because there was a power outage and we were alone. Who did he think I was? I braced my hands against his chest, preparing to push him off, but he was already moving away, my shoes dangling from one hand, and I nearly fell forward.

"Onward?" he asked, already stepping down the stairs.

I had no words.

So I stayed behind him this time, keeping my hands to myself, half-hoping he would kiss me again, half-appalled at myself.

We got to the ground floor sooner than I expected and he held his pass card in front of the scanner. The lock clicked and he pulled the door open.

A funny feeling began to creep over me. "Wait," I said. "How come this door worked when you said the one upstairs wouldn't?"

He only smiled.

Two weeks later, I was typing reports at my desk, when Lora appeared next to me again. "Mr Whittingham would like to see you," she said with barely concealed satisfaction. "That's the third time this week. Has someone's work been lacking lately?"

I gave her a plastic smile and walked away without answering. I walked down the hallway, through the doors, and right past the elevators.

When I stepped into the stairwell, he was waiting.