Cecil is sick of his boss Carlos paying more attention to work than to him.

"Sir? I have the papers you requested."
"Thank you Cecil," Carlos said distractedly, chewing on the pen as he scanned over the page for what felt like the millionth time, head resting on his arm, elbow jutting off the edge of the desk into the expanse of space. Cecil sighed an moved across the room, heels clicking against the hardwood floor in order to set the papers down on a free patch of table, desk, shelf or floor. Carlos felt his face flush, thanking whatever deity for his dark skin and raised the papers higher to cover his face and to resist the temptation to peek at his perfectly, beautiful secretary.
Abruptly the paper was forced down onto the desk and Carlos' annoyed yell died in his throat as expanses of stocking covered leg entered his vision, a single black sparkling high heel dangling from it. His gaze slowly moved up the leg, head and body moving along with it to see better, stopping in order to swallow roughly, mouth dry at the peak of a dark garter disappearing underneath a form fitting pencil skirt. He stopped and looked at Cecil, who giggled and winked before reaching out with a delicate hand to pull Carlos closer by his tie.
"Well Sir?" he purred, breath mixing together as Carlos' head span, "What would you like me to do?"