*an impression of Ms Osis ^^^*

//////

Ms Osis is indeed a workaholic.

Last Saturday morning, I sent her the picture of my assistant schedule, in an hour, she replied to me with notes on the picture, asking me to revise it.

I ended up spending my precious Saturday night working, exchanging emails with my boss.

I couldn't express how relieved I felt when I saw her reply being a single 'Received'. Maybe she also felt tired correcting my schedule and gave up.

I spent my Sunday sleeping and recharging, ignoring the outer world altogether.

I actually enjoy being alone sometimes, staying at home, doing some reading or meditating.

Modern life can be overwhelming, and I need my safe space.

*Zoom-zoom*

The sound of my mobile vibrations brings me back to the tube I'm standing in. It's my dad calling.

'Hola, Papá.' I pick up, trying to sound cheerful.

'How was your first week, Beti? You didn't call. We're worried.'

Ah, bloody heck...I totally forgot to call my parents. I don't call them regularly, but I did promise to talk to them about my placement.

'Sorry, I was having a crazy week.' I sigh, 'But it's alright. Don't worry. And you should be sleeping right now!'

My parents and my younger brother are living in Singapore right now because of my dad's diamond company, which means it's an eight-hour time difference between us.

'Alright, I am about to. Your mum is snoring already. Good night.' He sounds a bit helpless, which is quite amusing.

I chuckle, 'Good night. Tell Mama I love her and I'll call soon, okay?'

'Yes. Talk soon. Bye, Beti.' He hangs up.

My dad has always been the stereotypical father figure—traditional, serious, and bad at expressing affection.

Other than that, he's a brilliant dad. He always made time for my brother and I when we were living in the Netherlands and when he started his own company in Singapore.

Also, he and my mum (who is the opposite of my dad) both took it quite well when I told them I am a lesbian on my 15th birthday.

Well, he is still adjusting to this fact now, but at least when I sometimes bring up my dating life, he doesn't say anything.

I consider myself to be quite blessed to not have to be fighting for my sexuality at home.

Thank you, God.

I think gratefully as I enter the Angus Arts, feeling refreshed for the day. Not a blue Monday.

I have now grown a habit of leaving for work at 8.30 am after my disastrous first day.

The five-minute tube ride plus five-minute walking give me enough time to settle up and enjoy the half-impressed-half-annoyed look on Ms Osis's face.

I don't know when exactly she comes into the office, but I guess not much earlier than I because when I come in, she's still standing beside her desk, about to take off her long black coat.

Today, she's wearing a light blue blouse and black high-waist wide-leg suit trousers. 

The buttons above her chest are untucked, revealing some of her chest and cleavage. Her trousers just carve the line of her behind perfectly.

I gulp hard.

'Morning, boss.' I smile at her inexpressive flawless face, forcing myself to only look at her face.

'Morning.' She shoots me a brief glance and sits at her desk, turning on her laptop and sipping her drink. It might be English morning tea, determined by the smell.

I sit into my chair, pretending to be looking at my laptop screen while watching her with the corner of my eyes.

She's just...very distant.

Meghan's words ring around my ears. That is definitely true, but why?

I mean, she's beautiful and certainly successful in her line of work, so being cold and bitchy is her choice.

However, we're in the events industry for heaven's sake, she cannot simply put everything through by scaring people.

I bet she is quite good at negotiating and socialising as well, using her charms to convince people.

So, which is the front? The stone-cold one, or the charming one, or both?

'Is there something you want to say?'

I realise I've stopped my action and stared straight at her as her eyes dart at me disapprovingly.

'Ummm, so, what do you think of the schedule I've made?' I ask awkwardly. I'm so dead.

She arches her right brow, asks in reply, 'How many times I've had to send it back to you?'

Six. 'A few times.'

'Exactly.' She curves her perfectly-shaped red lips, giving me a sarcastic smirk.

'I will do better.' I retort, unfortunately sounding unconvincing.

'We will see about that. I will hate to fire you.' She says mockingly.

God, this woman...I wonder if this is the kind of charms that gets her laid.

Don't get me wrong, I am totally diggin' it, but only in the bedroom.

Being an employee of this attitude is exhausting. I might be a masochist, but I'd like to see myself otherwise during work.

'Don't worry, I won't give you the chance to miss me.' Good one, Sage.

'Psk,' In a split second, I swear her smirk almost becomes an amused smile, 'Please, don't flatter yourself. I might miss the rubbish more.' She rolls her eyes dramatically.

'Well, didn't know you like talking to your rubbish.' I retort under my breath.

'What is that?' She narrows her eyes dangerously, arms folding over her chest.

'Nothing.' I shut up. I still want to live for another day.

She nods in satisfaction, 'Good. I just forwarded the artworks from the galleries that we're collaborating with to you. Sort them with the list of themes from the email and in alphabetical order.'

What? You said you have a sexy butt that generates a hell lot of work?

I pout and groan unconsciously.

'You better stop that if you still want to stay in this office.' She warns coldly with her deadly gaze.

Honestly, I don't. But, I need this job to keep my ass in the UK, so here we roll.

//////

'So, how's your day as the second assistant?'

Chris gives me a playful look while eating her ramen (did she order delivery?) and I devour my bangers and mash.

I love English food. Don't judge me.

'Haha, so great. I am doing your job, right?'

Chris grins, 'Yeah, thanks to you, my work is so much lighter now.' She swallows a big bite, 'But seriously, are you doing alright? Last time I went in, you looked like you were dying.'

Are my emotions that obvious?

'I am coping. I guess I just need more time to adapt to this work style.' I give her a reassuring smile. Am I convincing her or me?

'Don't try too hard. You don't want to turn into that.' I know by 'that' she means Ms Osis.

I might just do. Perfection for my humane soul? Take it.

Just kidding.

'She is actually not that bad. She can be nice sometimes.' Somehow, I feel the need to defend Ms Cold Stone.

Maybe it is my survival instinct because, at that exact moment, I catch her slender figure buying lunch from the corner of my eyes.

I see her fixating on our direction, maybe more specifically, me, for a few seconds before seemingly losing her interest and going towards the lift.

'Whoo, speak of the devil. That was close.' Chris lets out a sigh of relief while I still feel uneasy.

What if she heard it? Would she feel hurt? Or maybe she doesn't care at all?

Yikes. Badmouthing someone behind their back does leave a bad taste.

'Sage.'

I turn to my right and see Meghan approaching. Ah, I haven't even talked to her after Friday night...My bad.

'Meghan, I was just about to find you.' I stand up from my seat, meeting her halfway, 'I am so sorry for not texting for the whole weekend. I was...working. And sleeping.' I scratch the back of my neck embarrassedly.

Meghan smiles understandingly, picking up my hand that's resting on my side, 'No worries. I am just thinking...if you want to come over to my place this Friday to watch some films and eat popcorns.' She quickly adds with a blush, 'I just bought a new popcorn machine that I want to try out.'

And I've told her that I adore popcorns.

'Of course.' I grin, 'Can't wait.'

'Brilliant.' She grins back, 'I'll text you the address. Shall we say 9?'

The later the better.

I shrug, 'Fine with me. Should I bring some wine?' I believe we both are aware of where this is going.

'Yeah, white is fine.' She bites her pink bottom lip, 'See you then.'

She walks past me, leaving me with a wind of her scent.

I almost feel like I am walking on clouds on my way back to the office. I am getting laid this Friday.

It has been quite a while since I last dated anyone. Eleven months, to be exact.

I don't do hookups, when I am not seeing anyone, I am not having sex with anyone but myself. So, forgive me for getting a bit too horny right now. I have my needs.

I am so carried away that I don't even feel threatened when Ms Osis stares at me with her cold blue long-lash eyes.

But, her stare lasts a bit too long for me to continue blocking it out with my previous happiness. I have to lift my eyes to meet hers.

'Is there something on my face?' I ask questionably.

She creases her brows slightly, seemingly thinking, 'No...only your sloppiness.'

Ouch? 'Pardon?' What is her problem? Which part is she referring to?

I quickly scan over my clothes. Collarless shirt and tight jeans...they look fine to me.

She again smirks, 'Get back to work, will you?' She runs her long fingers through her feathery hair, ignoring my slightly hurt ego.

I will if you stop being a sexy meanie. I mean, she still looks so perfect even when she's so mean...

'What did you say?' She lowers her tone, sounding scarier than ever.

Did I say that out loud? I want to punch myself before she does.

'What did I say?' I decide to play dumb, looking as innocent as possible.

She looks hard at me for what feels like an eternity and finally says, 'Nothing. You better hand me the list of organised pieces by today. Or I'll let you walk.' She says the last word through her gritted teeth.

'Noted, boss.' I give her my positive smile.

//////

Ms Osis has been increasing my workload day by day. It is not much, nothing I could not handle, but it is just...exhausting.

I think she's monitoring me or something. I've been getting a lot more small glances since she called me 'sloppy' four days ago.

Not that I mind having her attention, but every time her gaze falls onto me, I feel a very tiny and weird tickle in my lower stomach, and my body temperature slightly goes up.

Sometimes, I would meet her stare, letting her know that I know she's been staring. However, she always just averts her eyes with an unfazed face, not seeming to care if I notice or not.

Damn, I wish I have the guts to confront her, but I don't.

So, here's the price for being a pussy.

But for the record, I am a nice pussy THAT's getting laid tonight.

So, I'm going to let it go. Shoot your darts, bitch.

Note:

Sorry, this one is a bit short.

Still, let me know what you think. :)