Thankyou for having a look at my story, I am very much interested in your feedback and welcome questions and plan too write more chapters consistently. This story has lemons so you don't have too read it if you don't want to. I don't claim to have any ownership of the 50 shades of grey story. I know it's a bit different so thanks for giving it a go and I hope you like it!

This story is set a couple months before the first book in the fifty shades series.

Getting your boss a coffee in the morning is something that is expected and held at high importance and I have never understood why. It's a task so simple that anyone could easily do it themselves, but it's common knowledge that in the business world, it's blasphemy to even consider that the boss would have time to pour his own coffee. Which made me wonder what people think secretaries do all day? I wouldn't be surprised if a vast majority of people thought making a drink was the highlight of our career. If that was the case you wouldn't need any kind of secretarial qualifications but instead some experience in the hospitality industry.

If I had the balls; well that's not right because I do have the balls so instead I should say; if I didn't know any better; when Andrea asked me "if I didn't mind could I do her favour and get his coffee while she ran down to get some smokes" I would have sharply replied with "actually I do mind because I'm currently doing my job and I fail to see the importance in a cup of coffee so I lack the motivation to stop working in order to make a coffee that you're too lazy to make for someone who's too lazy to make it themselves" but I do know better, and I do want to keep my job. "How does he like it?" I ask with a smile and tone I'm sure is not fooling anyone as it is rich with forced enthusiasm. Andrea looks at me with an amused and startled look on her face "excuse me?!" She asks. I am under the impression she has caught on to my crappy attitude until she shakes her head and laughs as if she's just remembered herself. "Sorry Olivia! I thought you were talking about something completely different! How silly of me!" She giggles. "Cream no sugar and just a dash of milk" she waves back at me as she trots off to the evaluator, still chuckling to herself.

I can imagine my feelings to the whole coffee getting business would be less bitter if the coffee machine wasn't in fact in office. It was bad enough I had to make it for him during MY work hours, when it wasn't my job, when he was only four steps away from the machine? ext ext you get the point. I knocked on the door, "Excuse ?" I poked my head around the corner. looked like he should be on the cover of a ridiculously priced magazine, which I'm sure he had been at some point or another. I couldn't decided if this was because he just looked really good and presentable all the time or because he was seated like he was posing. He had his legs stretched out and he was leaning back into his chair. His elbow was delicately leaning on the table and his head resting in his hand. He was gazing at his computer with a look of either puzzlement or intense interest. Usually he looked so stiff and business like, I wondered if this was him in his natural habitat? I blinked quickly as I realised I hadn't even noticed he hadn't noticed me.

I tapped on the inside of the door "Excuse me ?" I said with a smile. He shook his head and met my gaze, "my apologies Olivia, what can I do for you?" "Not a problem sir I'm just here to make your coffee" I said. He nodded once and went back to looking at his computer. His office's beauty never failed to throw me. His furniture was so artificial and materialistic yet there was a natural flow between the colours and patterns in the room. I'd fallen in love with his white leather couch when I first started working here, it reminded me of the multimillion dollar rooms photographed in vogue, it was majestic.

Cream no sugar and just a dash of milk I muttered to myself as I began poking and prodding at the machine. Even though I was still annoyed, I noted that I had never, in fact, been made to make a coffee before, therefore it was safe to assume I wouldn't have to continue doing so. At least not on a regular bases, so that was a positive. I remembered I should be polite, "How has your morning been ?" I asked pleasantly, keeping my eyes on the machine. "Interesting Olivia, very interesting" he murmured.

and I frequented in conversations like this, simple friendly banter that was terribly unneeded but created an airy feel to tasks such passing on phone messages and ordering more of a certain type of pen. I sometimes wondered if he knew as well as I did how conventional and shallow our conversations were. I liked to think he did, and he enjoyed them for the same reason I did, they were familiar and easy. "Any messages this morning?" He asked with minimal interest. "Nothing yet sir" I replied regretfully. "I'm sure there will be after lunch though" I said with a smile. "Yes indeed" He said.

I had watched my mother make coffee for my father thousands of times before we had had a maid so I was rather confident with my skills. So confident that I picked up the jug of milk some what dramatically and I spilled it all over my skirt. "God darn it!" I yelped, "My skirt! my favourite skirt!" my skirt that I got on sale and have never figured out why it was on sale because it's so god damn fantastic skirt! "dammit! my skirt!" I cried. had jumped out of his chair and rushed over and was now standing next to me awkwardly, peering down at my skirt. The milk started to run down my leg "Oh shit! my shoes!" I screeched as I kicked off my bran spanking new pair of Prada pumps which had just escaped the milk. "You're not getting my shoes too! hah!" I teased the milk running down my leg. Before I could question how rational I was being yelling at milk and all, looked at me at the same time as I looked up at him "what an injustice the milk has done you today Olivia" he said, his grey eyes searching my face for something I wasn't sure of.

There was a freshness to his expression, I'd never see him look anything other than content before. My mouth opened a little in confusion as I realised; was that a joke? sure enough, a little chuckle escaped his lips. My eyes squinted and blood flushed my cheeks. "You think this is funny?" I spat. raised his eye brows at me, this made me more angry because it seemed as though they raised out of amusement more so than shock. "please explain to me what's so humorous about my skirt being RUINED by your stupid milk!" I yelled. He laughed and crossed his arms "my stupid milk? MY stupid milk? I am somewhat responsible for this am I because It's my stupid milk?" he laughed. My fingers curled up and dug into my palms "Yes! because it's your stupid milk for your stupid coffee!" I spluttered like a two year old. What the hell, I thought and yelled "Why can't you make your own coffee god dammit!? the machine is right here!" He laughed loudly and I could feel myself beginning to see red. "Why are you laughing so much!?" I screeched, he smiled a warm smile and chuckled "Because your skirt really isn't ruined, and I thought you were just being over dramatic which was very amusing but now I see you're really angry because you didn't want too make me a coffee" he teased soothingly. I bit my lip because I didn't have anything else to say.

's eyes twitched quickly too my mouth and then in an instant down at my skirt and he chuckled nervously and shook his head uncomfortably. It was as if he had become embarrassed by something. There was an unsettling silence. The quite and his odd reaction to my mouth helped distract me from my anger. Unfortunately the cold reality that I had just spoken appallingly to my boss and could possibly be fired for that crept into the back of my head. Shit. I cleared my throat and looked down at my skirt. "I suppose it really isn't that bad" I said. I felt as though he could sense my fear. "It's just a skirt I can wash it and I'll just be more careful next time, It's really not your fault" I wondered if I sounded as desperate and hopeless as I felt. He was no longer warm and laughing but cold and calculated "Grab some towels from the bathroom" he directed, in control "Then go home".

I swallowed and tried too say more, but then he lifted up his arm and pointed to the door. "Go" he said. I picked up my shoes and hurried out of his office and into the corridor.