Diaval's guide on how to reach second base with your future employer (twice)

Mallory Moor bit her lips, trying not to look at the man beside her.

He was, pardon her language, fucking hot. He had raven hair, combed back neatly. His eyes were the darkest shade of black, a starless midnight sky. He had scars on his face, scars that made her curious.

She looked at his lips, imagining them on hers. She looked at his hands, imagining them on her waist as her nails dug into his back.

She imagined their bodies pressed against each other, hot and sweaty...

She shook her head.

Robin's and Balthazar's words must be getting to her.

They are really bad influences on her.

Really, they are always harping on and on about how she should get laid. It was really inappropriate for her adoptive fathers to do that. Especially when they started giving her tips on how to seduce a man.

She was thirty for crying out loud. She had had sex. (Even if the last time was two years ago.)

To her defence, she was a really busy lawyer.

Really busy.

Really, very busy...

Fine. She had no social life.

She had chosen buried herself in her work, leaving no space for socialising in order to save herself from awkward meetings and allow herself to get over her ex (who was a douchebag. The end.)

She groaned mentally and made a mental note to find a way to get rid of all the sexual tension built up in her body or to murder her two adoptive fathers.

Either way, she was glad she had perfected her poker face.

Perks of being a lawyer.

...

Diaval tried not to stare at the woman standing next to him in the elevator.

He did not know how to describe her. She was certainly beautiful but not in the usual conventional way.

Her hair was twisted back into a severe bun, leaving no loose strands behind. Her eyes were a shade of blue and green, piercing and sharp. She had killer cheekbones that looked like they could murder someone.

To think about it, she kinda looked like Angelina Jolie.

She scared him to death but that didn't mean that he did not want to know her better.

He stared at his watch.

8.59 a.m.

He was so going to be late for his interview.

He was applying for a job at The Moors, one of the top up and coming law firms in New York.

His entire future depended on this interview.

He urged the elevator to move up faster, not understanding why someone would choose to have their office at the 60th story.

The light flickered. It couldn't be-

Nah. It couldn't be haunted.

...

Ok. It was annoying. Mallory did not appreciate the lights flickering on and off.

She made a mental note to call the electrician or whoever she should call when she get out of the lift.

She was late for the job interview.

It didn't matter actually, since she was the interviewer but she hated being late.

The elevator was crawling up at such a slow pace.

Mallory huffed and pulled out her phone, hoping to pass time by checking some emails and prevent herself from staring at the man.

It was flat.

How lucky.

The elevator rumbled.

It'd better not break down.

The elevator jerked.

Please don't break down.

The elevator gave a huge jerk and everything went black.

Fuck.

...

Diaval must admit he was not the most coordinated person in the entire universe.

But he did not expect himself to lose his balance the moment the elevator gave a huge jerk.

He did not expect himself to trip over his own feet and fall onto the woman next to him.

Neither did he expect to feel something soft beneath his lips and his palms.

Soft...?

His eyes flew open, staring straight into the woman's eyes.

Their lips were interlocked and...

And he was rather certain that he was groping her chest.

Shit.

He jumped away, apologising profusely.

Did he just reached second base with a woman he just met?

Yes he did.

"It's ok. It was an accident," she said rather awkwardly as she got up from the floor.

"I'm really sorry."

"It's ok."

They stood there in silence.

The elevator had to break down with him in it.

He could feel his heart speeding up, fear creeping up.

The walls seemed to close upon him, suffocating and pressurising.

Deep breaths Diaval. Deep breathes.

"Are you alright?" The woman asked, evidently concerned.

"I-I'm just n-not to found of c-closed spaces."

He could feel a lump against his throat and his lungs constricting.

He really, really hated closed spaces.

"Me too," her reply was so soft, he'd thought that he imagined it.

He titled his head, breathing deeply, trying to calm himself down.

He felt a hand around his, warm and comforting. He turned and the woman gave him a small tight smile.

He was grateful for her little gesture.

"Thanks."

She nodded mutely, sliding down to sit on the floor and he followed suit.

"I'm Mallory."

"Diaval. Nice to meet you, although the situation could be better," he rambled, still horribly nervous.

"I suppose so," she chuckled.

He could hear their breaths.

She smelled of roses, a light floral scent. He could not help but to angle himself closer to smell her, even if it was creepy.

Not like he hadn't already ruin her first impression of him.

"How long do you think we will be trapped here?"

She shrugged and sighed.

He fumbled in his pocket for his phone, only to realise he couldn't pick up a signal.

"Mine is flat," she stated when he asked her for hers.

They both sighed once more.

...

Mallory did not know how long it had been but sitting next to Diaval and holding his hand had done wonders to her nerves. She had pressed the alert button but who knew when will help arrive.

It was the first time in a few years since someone had kissed or groped her.

And she was surprisingly not complaining about his accidental touches.

He smelled really good, fresh and comforting. She had the sudden impulse to bury her nose into the crook of his neck.

Damn her hormones.

She peeked at him.

"Sorry, again. For earlier." It was the hundredth time he was apologising.

"Don't worry about it." To be frank, she was starting to get annoyed by his endless apologies.

He just coped a feel. Get over it.

They fall back to silence.

"You work here?"

"Yes. You? I've never seen you around."

"I'm here for a job interview," he smiled. "Although I am terribly late for it."

She gave him a sympathetic squeeze on his shoulder.

"I really hope that the employer won't hold it against me," he mused, sounding distressed. "Although I'd understand why he wouldn't want to hire someone who is late."

"I'm certain you will do just fine," Mallory comforted him.

She wondered which company it was.

There were only two other offices at that level. Hers and one small architectural firm.

"Really?" He perked up.

He was easy to comfort wasn't he?

"Yeah. I'm sure."

He sighed in relief. "Wish me luck," he winked. Or at least she thought he winked. She couldn't really see him in the dark.

The elevator gave a huge jerk once more and the lights flickered open.

She found himself on top of him, their lips finding each other again and his hands on her chest.

She wondered if they were unlucky or lucky.

It felt like some horribly written romance novel. (Not that she actually read those.)

The door slid open and she jumped off him, arranging her clothes.

"I'm so sorry!" He squeaked, his pale face now aflame.

"Let's pretend that never happen."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

"Sorry."

"What ever for?"

Silence.

They gave each other an awkward nod before going in opposite directions.

...

Diaval went the wrong direction.

He awkwardly made a sharp turn to The Moors and was told to wait outside for a moment by the receptionist-Mary.

When he finally entered the room, he'd thought that he would have a heart attack.

"Mallory?"

"Diaval?"

They exclaimed, their faces frozen in shock.

Oh well. He had just got to second base with his future employer. Twice.