Love was the sort of thing that happened to other people and not me.

All that mattered was that I had a head for business and a bod built for sin and I rode that sucker as hard as I could for as long as I could. Love them and leave them was my motto. Hook up, fuck-hard, and screw regret.

Men - and women - have come and gone over the years and not one - not a single one - has made me take so much as a second look and go back for more. For one reason or another, I always come away knowing that I've seen all they've got and taken all they can give. Nothing anybody has ever done has come close to what I'm looking for. All it would take was a spark. Something to jolt me out of this little fantasy world I've built around myself to keep the big bad wolf at bay and to make everything I've ever done feel like it's all been worth it.

All I ever wanted was for someone to save me. To take me away to the moonlight because the people around me don't feel right. Just take me away from here...

***

Who knew - who fucking knew - that someone who looked and dressed like a reject from a Willy Wonka factory would be that spark. This is definitely a really shitty way for my emotional conscience to say hello. Why did it have to be someone like him?

Babette was giving me THAT look.

"What?" I said as I got up and walked to my office window that looked out on a winter wonderland as the snow continued to fall over the city. Getting home tonight was going to be a real pain in the ass.

"Oh, nothing, Cherie," she replied. "Only I hear that Chinese people are whispering."

I turned and looked at her. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

She spread her arms wide and shrugged in that way only French women can. "Only that someone saw something and they have put Deux plus Deux together and made Cinq!"

"And what do those whispers say then?" I was all ears.

Babette sat back in her chair. "That you were seen with someone and that you appeared to be somewhat." She paused. "Flustered."

Flustered, huh. Well, shoot. Was it that obvious? But there hadn't been a soul around at that time of the evening. Heck, I don't even remember the cleaners being there. So who the hell saw us in the elevator?

Oh, shit. "The CCTV!"

Those wanking spying asshole sonsofbitches!

***

"Have you noticed anything different?"

I looked up from my brunch at my Secretary who was sucking and chewing on one end of her spaghetti. It was lunchtime and the canteen was full of the company employees making the most of down-time to get something to eat. We were sat at a table in the far corner near the main windows. As with most companies, the grunts and dept bosses sat with their own kind which I always found freaky in a planet of the apes sort of way.

I shook my head. "No, I don't think so," The anticipated walk of shame hadn't happened. At least as far as I could tell as most everyone always glanced in my direction when I came down to the canteen anyway. It was just the way things were and where the "Medusa" moniker thing came from. "Look not into the eyes of the Witch for she will take your soul and make you hers" schtick. Dressing the way I do, shades of black with my long red hair usually free-flowing, I definitely turn heads wherever I go. Even if it's only to the bathroom to take a leak.

But there didn't appear to be anything out of the ordinary as me and Babette found a spare table where we set up base camp to keep out of the way from the knuckle-dragging abominations who always - ALWAYS - tried to catch my eye.

Only this time, I was watching them as much as they were watching me.

At first glance, Mr. Kent didn't look to be here. Which I thought would be a relief but absolutely wasn't much to my annoyance. This was crazy. How the fuck was I supposed to do anything? How the hell do I concentrate on the crap I needed to do today? I popped a grape in my mouth and mused on my situation.

Every opening of the main double doors to the canteen had me looking up like Bambi in a zoo full of hyenas. And with every "not that guy", I slumped back in my chair with Babette thoroughly enjoying the show.

"So it has finally happened." She grinned, waving her plastic fork at me as she nibbled on a meatball.

I gave her my best scowl of disapproval. "No, it hasn't," I lied as I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. This was ridiculous. Was I actually glowing and giving off a shit load of pheromones or something? Could people hear my vagina singing?

"There is nothing wrong with being in love, Carol," she laughed.

Was she kidding? There is a whole lot of wrong about it. It messes with your head, fucks your metabolism and turns you from a sane sensible member of the human race into an emotional sack of play dough. That crap I can do without. I'm only twenty-nine, for Chrissakes. I like my life just the way it is. Fucked up with lots of in and out no strings attached sex. Thank you very much.

"You're imagining things," I blagged.

Babette ignored me. "Is he cute?"

Oh. You cow. That was a low blow. I shrugged. Is Clark Kent cute? Well, considering my vast experience regarding the male of the species, I thought he was. Kind of. I'd really need to have a proper face to face to be sure. As that thought faded away, another suddenly popped into my head.

"Wonder if he's hung?" I sighed as I stared out of the window at the falling snow.

The whole canteen turned at the sound of Babette laughing her ass off as the doors suddenly opened and in walked this magnificent son of Krypton and I knew deep down in my fucking bones that my whole life was about to change forever.

***

There are times when you've just got to tell your pussy to shut the fuck up.

This time, right now, was one of them as I sat there peeking over the menu as the man made his way to a spare table and sat down. Holy moly, I had a serious case of the vapors and could feel my uterus doing cartwheels inside of me. What the hell was going on? My heart was literally aching as it thudded loudly in my ears as I watched him remove his tweed jacket and sit down in his seat where he began to tuck into his meal.

Since I and Babs were sat in the far corner of the large hall that was in shadow, he apparently hadn't seen us as I stared at him properly for the first time. Well, hang on a second here. Is that it? I mean, he just looked like a regular Joe sat there in his white short-sleeved shirt and dark blue tie. He didn't exactly look anything special from what I could tell. He had to have something more about him or else why was my inner bitch panting away and howling at the moon?

"Surprising, isn't it," said the woman opposite. She was looking directly at me and I flinched at what she was implying. "It can touch you anytime, anywhere, and for no reason at all. When I was a young girl, there used to be a saying where I came from that love is the answer to the question you never asked."

I made a face at her. Oh, please spare me. Enough with the fairy princess Disney crap. "In case you hadn't noticed," I told her. "I am not a young girl anymore."

Babette smiled. "No, but the question is still the same no matter how much you want to run away from the answer, Cherie," She sat forward. "Shall I invite him over?"

Excuse me?

My mouth dropped open in shock. "No," I gasped. "Are you crazy?"

"Then how are you going to meet?" she asked.

Was that a trick question? Meet? Like right now? In front of the mob and their fucking mobile phones? I shook my head. "Babette, don't you dare!"

My best friend shrugged. "You are just putting off the inevitable," she sighed. "What will be will be in the end. The first conversation is always the most difficult."

"He's married," I said flatly.

"Ah," she nodded. "But that hasn't stopped you before has it?"

How does one answer something so baldly brazenly true as that? For once, I felt truly stung by something she had said. Someone being married wasn't something that had ever deterred me from getting what I wanted before as disgustingly pathetic as that sounded. So what made this guy different from all the others?

I just shook my head and didn't say anything to her.

She reached across the table and took my hand in hers. "All the best sex in the world is worth nothing if it doesn't mean anything. A fleeting edification that disappears in the blink of an eye," She pressed her free hand to her chest. "The best kind of sex is the sex which lives on beyond the moment when it is done because of love."

Babette suddenly got to her feet.

"Where are you going?" I blurted out, sounding surprised and nervous as I glanced at her half-eaten meal of spaghetti and meatballs.

"To say hello."

I blinked. "What?"

She smiled. "To introduce myself," she said breezily as she winked at me and made her way between the tables to leave me sat there freaking the fuck out inside.

"Babette!" I hissed. But she ignored me and gave me a little cheery wave.

What the hell was she doing? OMG! Was she nuts? Stupid question. Of course, she was nuts. She's French. When she reached his table and I saw her introducing herself, I slid lower in my seat and hid behind the menu. This was the worst! The absolutely fucking worst day ever! I peeked over the top and saw she had sat down opposite him and they were actually talking to one another like reasonable adults. Glancing around, I noticed some of the others looking over towards me with more than the usual lustful curiosity.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Five minutes later, Babette returned and gathered her things. I was on my feet like a shot, grabbed her by the elbow, and was quickly marching us both out of the fucking hall towards the elevators without looking back.

"Well?" I blurted out as we headed to the twenty-fifth floor.

Babette shrugged and examined her nails. "All done."

Done? All done what? I gave her a shake. "AND?"

"Oh, it was nothing," she replied. "I just thought I'd explain what happened the other day that's all. You know, when he saw us in the bathroom together. He was very understanding and completely charming."

"AND?" I was practically bouncing up and down on the spot. "WHAT. DID. YOU. TELL. HIM?"

"Sex toy."

I stared at her.

"What?"

The older woman looked at me innocently trying not to laugh.

"Sex toy, " she repeated. "You know, one of those Benji ball things. I told him you got one stuck and I was helping you get it out. Simple. As good an excuse as any."

She gave me a kiss on the cheek before heading to the office with me standing there like an open-mouthed asshole wondering if I was as smart as I thought I was.

***

In the end, it was Mother Nature who decided to give Lady Fate a helping hand as far as matters of the heart were concerned about dumping a metric ton of snow over the district and making the city grind to a halt.

The company sent out a text giving everybody the day off and that only essential personnel should attempt to come into work until the worst of it cleared. It looked like it was going to be a white Christmas after all with the big day just over a week away.

Being head of dept was about as essential as it got as I sat listening to Larry bitching on about the other assholes on the road and how this trip was worth way more than time and a half. The man had a point because there had been practically a whiteout overnight and the weather was saying the conditions were the worst they'd seen in nearly forty years.

But Mr. Gonzales is a trooper and what should have been a thirty-minute commute ended up taking two hours plus as we pulled into the main entrance of the building.

Walking through the lobby, it looked like Santa's little helpers had been busy as the place was decked out with a shit load of Christmas decorations. Only a couple of receptionists were on the main desk and the place was eerily quiet which suited me right down to the ground as I headed for my office on the twenty-fifth floor and what I expected to be a day getting things done without any interruptions.

So much for the best-laid plans of mice, men and Lois Lane.

***

All work and no food make this particular girl grouchy and grumpy as hell so as the clock ticked round to mid-day-ish, I decided to head downstairs to see what delights the canteen was dishing out when there was hardly anyone around.

As the elevator descended, I stood with my eyes fixed on the red neon numbers above the doors as they counted down through 13 to 12 to 11 to...

Level 10. Data - Records-Information: Company Library.

The floor you-know-who worked on. My own personal nemesis. It occurred to me that he was literally the man with no name other than the fantasy one my imagination had given him. Watch him be called something like Todd. Or Hank. Or Biff. I would lose my shit if he was called Randy.

For a split second, I was tempted to press the red button.

Maybe I should just go and introduce myself. Say hello. Explain a couple of things. Do shit like a normal adult would do. You know, sensible stuff.

10 to 9 to 9...

I sighed and closed my eyes. 

The elevator continued on its merry way to the ground floor.

***

Walking into the canteen was like walking into another world.

The place was practically empty as I stood there with the double doors swinging shut behind me. I'd never seen it so quiet and with it decked out in all sorts of Christmassy crap, it was kind of freaky, to be honest. There were people sat here and there around the hall with some reading or on their laptops as they ate.

As expected, the menu was pretty basic. "Emergency rations," as Dolores put it from behind the counter where she was serving. So burger, fries, and coffee to go then. Preoccupied, I turned and found a seat towards the center and not where Babette and myself usually sat. As I unwrapped my not so happy meal, I started noticing the other people in the room and to my dawning realization, half a dozen tables to my right sat the object of my growing attention which totally took the wind right out of my sails. He was with five other people, one who I sort of recognized from the tenth floor, and they were making small talk as they sat chatting away.

Oh. You have got to be kidding me.

What do I do now?

Just eat your fricking meal, dummy. And try not to look a complete moron. Thankfully, I was dressed for the weather with a black polo necked top, charcoal below the knee-length skirt, black leggings and ankle boots. I actually looked decent. Normal. Not dressed to kill as per my usual. Even my hair was tied up in a tail which hung down my back. Hell, I could even pass for a Librarian.

It is the hardest thing in the world to deliberately not look at something you desperately want to look at. Concentrating on a fixed point in space, I resolutely nibbled on my Big Mac as I tried to look cool, calm and collected.

But he was here. Over there. Just out of reach. It was no use. I had to take a peek. Just to see what he was doing. I could hear their murmur of conversation and each time he spoke it felt like my ass was falling out of my panties.

A quick first glance and I saw he was looking at the girl opposite him laughing and smiling as they talked. Oh, so is that what jealousy feels like. Like being slowly throttled by a green-eyed little monster. I took another bite and continued chewing only this time more resolutely.

Another glance. Oh. He had removed his black-framed spectacles and was fiddling with them as he ate his fries. Jesus. H. Christ. He looks like a teenager! How old is this guy? Geez, what if he's only, like, say, nineteen or twenty or something? That would make me an old maid at nearly thirty. Heck, I had never even considered how old he would be.

My balloon was beginning to deflate.

I took another bite and munched away thoughtfully.

"Miss. Peterson?"

Huh?

I looked up surprised to see the girl I sort of recognized standing in front of my table.

"I, uh," she said hesitantly, "We noticed you were sitting on your own and thought you'd like to join us until lunch is over. If you want to," Her voice trailed off as I glanced at the others sat across from me.

"Oh, I, er," I smiled as I tried to think straight.  Nope. No can do. Take a raincheck. Just say NO for Chrissakes. "Okay, yeah, sure. Thanks."

What are you doing?

***

Once I took my seat, the girl, Judy - brunette, medium-height, eighteen, grade three data clerk, cute - introduced me to her small group of new recruits. And, finally, to him.

"And this is Frank," she smiled, completely oblivious to how much my fucking blood pressure was going through the roof at that second. "Frank Caprica."

Caprica? Holy shit. He sounded like a hero from a Disney movie.

"Hi, nice to meet you," I nodded to each in turn. Time seemed to come to a slow stop as I suddenly felt the weight of the moment come over me, I turned to the man and as our eyes met I got my first real good look at him.

Which turned out to be a little underwhelming if I'm honest. Okay. Hmmm. He most definitely was not my type. At least not physically. He looked a little overweight and the clothes he was wearing were slightly baggy on him. Well, Casanova, you're not exactly the sort of man I thought would be the one to ring my cute little ding-a-ling.

I guess it's true what they say that love is blind.

But then he smiled at me and the whole world suddenly sprang to life in a way that vibrated through my soul from head to toe and I suddenly knew he was that one. It was like being dragged out of the dark into the moonlight.

Oh, you absolute married asshole.

***

So, hi, hello, howdy doody, Mr. Caprica.

Small talk is such a weird thing. Being able to talk for the sake of talking about stuff that doesn't matter at all. I thought I was quite good at it. Being able to dictate and move the conversation to where you want it to go.

But that was with people. Not with Superman sitting over there.

As we all sat at the table chatting about whatever it was we were chatting about, I had this overwhelming itch that really needed to be scratched. And the questions were all about him. Who he was. What he had done. What he wanted to do. What was he thinking about. Why was he thinking about what he was thinking about and a whole bunch of other things I needed to know just so I had some idea the game I was in and where I stood.

The conversation was about basic things. Mostly work. What the company was like and how the place ticked. Things to know. Shit you can do and shit you couldn't. Newbie stuff with Judy filling in the details as I dropped in the odd little firework. I could tell they were kind of hesitant about saying too much with me being senior management which was understandable and fine.

Whatever we talked about was only going to be in vague terms. Their own dept. heads would read them the riot act and keep them on the straight and narrow. Being new is scary and first weeks fucking suck from experience. But they seemed a pretty good bunch as I sat there listening to them talk amongst themselves as I sipped my coffee.

But the talk meant nothing. The only thing I was concentrating on was learning more about the man. Like I said up top, he did look a lot like the classic Clark Kent. His features and jaw were well defined and his eyes were a rich shade of brown. Another thing I discovered was that he didn't come from these parts.

He was, in fact, English. His voice had this wonderful sing-song timbre to it that made him sound slightly Scottish which confused the fuck out of me until he explained it.

"From northern England," he said when I pointed it out. "The bit under Scotland to the right where the Vikings and Norse Gods pillaged and plundered."

Oh, that sounded as sexy as fuck. I love all that Thor and Conan stuff. I swear, there were four women at the table and you could hear our vaginas sigh in unison as Judy's beeper literally beeped at that exact moment.

"Okay," she clapped. "Time to go, newbies," she said as she got to her feet. "Miss Tibbs wants to see us in records. Not you, Frank. Data is not until tomorrow. Looks like you get a long lunch. Nice meeting you, Miss Peterson."

Oh. Okay. Bye-bye. And then it was just the two of us. Him and me. Me and him. Sat together in the loudest silence ever as I tried to keep my raging libido in check.

Which was the last thing I wanted to do.

***

I never really considered what being in love would be like.

Sure, as a teenager, I had boyfriends and the odd deep crush in High School, but as I sat opposite the man, I began to understand what it meant on the most basic level as we talked about stuff in general. Everything that I am was focused on him. Every emotion was slowly wrapping themselves around him and I could feel myself wanting nothing more than to just sit there so I could look and listen to him.

As far as I was concerned, he was my soulmate.

I was convinced he was the one.

The more I stared at him the greater my desire became and whatever doubts I had about the power of love faded away into a waking dream.

And he was married.

"You have quite the reputation," he said as I glanced up at him with the sound of his voice bringing me back down to earth and our conversation.

I smiled self consciously and looked away. "Is that good or bad?"

"Mostly good," he smiled.

"Mostly?"

"They say you're not someone to let an opportunity go to waste and that you always get what you set your mind on. Which is a good thing, considering who you are and what you do. That's impressive," he said as he took another sip of coffee. "Must have taken a lot of sacrifices and hard work to get that far. Head of Department is a big deal."

At such times, I can be quite the little actress. Not that I hadn't put in the actual effort to get the qualifications I needed to get to where I needed to go but, well, you know, a little strategic fucking helped lube the cogs of the relevant dick or pussy. The rest was down to sheer hard work and no little luck.

"My mother always said to smile and put on a happy face," I shrugged. "As long as I believe in myself and do what I think is right, I know I'll be alright. Life is too short to have regrets even if they happen for the right reasons."

He didn't say anything but stared at me. It was as if I'd said something that he recognized personally. Something he understood. I found myself staring back at him and I knew the last thing I should do was to look away. My heart was racing and It felt like I was drowning when I saw his brow furrow and the intensity in his eyes narrow as he looked at me.

I had the absolute feeling that something had definitely clicked between us.

"You're very beautiful," he said suddenly breaking the silence.

Oh. Oh. Huh. Oh fuck. No one has ever EVER said that to me. And he just did. Straight out with it as if it were a simple fact. It literally made me feel like my heart was going to burst from my chest in sheer joy. Sure I've had compliments about my looks before but they were usually of the "you're really hot/sexy/cute/fuckable" kind. But this was different. Like it was more than just about me physically.

I wanted to say something profound in reply. Something with meaning. A simple "thank you" just wouldn't cut it. I knew what I wanted to say but I couldn't. So I just blushed and smiled at him as his mobile suddenly buzzed.

"Hey," he said as he sat back. "This is a surprise. What you up to?" he asked with a laugh. "No, not today. Actually, I'm done. Early finish. Yup. Uh-huh. We can eat out. Okay. Uh-huh. About an hour or so. Yup. Catch you later. Bye, sweetheart. Love you."

No word of a lie but that cut was most definitely the deepest and it is a small miracle I was able to sit there and keep the pain from my smile as he put his phone back in his pocket. I raised my eyebrows as he began to gather up his things.

"Guess I have to go," he said as he got to his feet and put on his coat.

Guess so," I replied as I looked up at him.

Then I saw something. A fleeting hint of shadow in his eyes. Something behind his smile as he reached out his hand for me to take. His right hand. Right there in front of me. I blinked and glanced up at him. Just take his damned hand, Carol.

Reaching up, I slipped mine into his and the breath caught in my throat as I felt his fingers close over my own and hold me firmly but gently. We didn't say anything as he gave my hand a squeeze with a brief nod of his head.

He then let go of me and turned to leave.

***

As I watched him go, I felt I had to do something. It was no use. I needed to say something about what Babette had told him the other day in the canteen or it would drive me fucking nuts if I didn't. I mean, sometimes you've just got to explain things and clear the air, right?

I grabbed my things and ran after him as he stopped at the main entrance. He looked at me wondering what was so important that I chased after him.

Okay, this was going to be the most embarrassing shit show ever but I felt I had to do it. 

"Uh," I blurted out. How the hell was I going to say what I wanted to say? Just explain what happened, you fool. "I just wanted to say something. About that thing that you saw. The other day in my office. With my Secretary and what we were doing..."

He looked at me. "Oh," he said as he remembered me standing there with my bare ass on show and Babette exploring my plumbing. "I didn't mean to intrude or anything. Sorry."

I shook my head. "No, no, don't apologize," I told him. "It was just that," I took a deep breath. "I got something stuck. Up there."

He blinked. "Stuck?"

"Yeah," I  nodded. "Something plastic," Holy shit, I sounded like a complete loon. "A plastic ball gizmo. You know, one of those sex toy things."

I wanted to fucking DIE.

He didn't say anything for a moment. "Really?" he asked, sounding and looking completely bemused as I stood there blushing to my roots.

"Like my Secretary told you in the canteen," I rushed. 

He continued to stare at me like I had lost my mind and was trying really hard to keep a straight face as I suddenly realized what had really happened. 

Oh, that little French tart!

***

"Salut?"

"THERE. WAS. NO. SEX. TOY!!!"

There was a pause then the sound of my Secretary laughing on the other end of the phone as I stomped around my office mad as a box of le frogs.

"Oh that," she replied. "Of course there wasn't. You did not actually think I told a complete stranger that when he saw us together in your office I was removing a plastic ball from your papoose?"

"YOU. FRENCH. BITCH!!" I screamed, cursing like a trooper.

There was a longer pause. "Wait," she asked slowly. "Has something happened, Cherie?"

Babette always called me Cherie when it came to personal stuff. It was kind of endearing and I knew she did it to calm me down and see sense.

"I told him."

"Who?"

"Clark Kent," I groaned as I flopped into my chair and buried my face in my arms. "Except he's not called that. He's a Frank. A Frank Caprica. And I told him about what you told me when you went over to speak with him the other day in the canteen."

There was an even longer pause.

"You told him what I told you?!" she gasped. "About the thing?"

"Uh-huh."

There was a shriek of laughter that made me wince. "OH MON DIEU!" she squealed. "Cherie, I was making a joke. Having a little fun with you as you were so serious!!"

"Well, it looks like the joke is on me because I told him," I sighed. "And now he thinks I'm a total ass slut who uses her personal secretary to get her rocks off. You should have seen the look on his face. He must think I am a complete basketcase."

Babette sounded like she was going to pee herself laughing.

"Oh, how I wish I had been there, Carol!" she giggled.

I sat looking out of my twenty-fifth-floor window. "Yeah, well," I sniffed. "If you had been, I'd have hung you from the ceiling by your sexy French knickers, Cherie. See you tomorrow."

Well, this had definitely been quite the fucking day.

***

End.
Look out for Medusa part 4. Last one.