Hello again everyone.
I am sorry for the longer than promised delay, but I had some personal family circumstances that required my attention. Also, I am heading back to university next week :S so I've been sorting books and timetables and that sort of thing.
As promised: Longer chapter and flirty goodness!
MarieVance: Why would Erik be out of the office? Why indeed.... read on!
SomePhantomPhanFromGR: I am planning trouble! I also like Christine with a backbone... it leads to fun clashes, and I think in Erik's position he is so sick of doormats that he needs a little fire in his life.
****
Christine was on her knees, sweating and red-faced. Before her lay dozens of boxes, some full of clothes and accumulated junk, others empty and waiting to be filled. She had just spent the last couple of hours lifting and pushing and shoving as much as she could and she was exhausted.
For someone so remarkably organised in my work life, I've left packing really late, she mused to herself. Inspecting a blue knitted scarf that she hadn't worn in 3 years, she balled in up and tried to throw it across the room, where a pile of clothes was waiting to be taken to the local charity bin. It unfurled in midair and fell pitifully a meagre four feet from her open hand.
She sat still for a moment and stared blankly at the scarf, annoyed, then dragged herself to her feet, wincing when she realised she has been kneeling on her hardwood floor for far too long, and painful shoots of pain were travelling up and down her legs and lower back.
It was Thursday night, almost a month after she had started working for Erik Deslar. She was moving on Saturday, but Erik had been keeping her so busy that she had only just got around to packing her things. He had a really annoying habit of keeping her late at the office with him, going over every little detail. Lately she had been spending more evenings sitting across a desk from Erik eating whatever he had told her to order while reading some paperwork, than worrying about little things like how she was going to fit her entire life into cardboard boxes. She was grateful that she had managed to get the evening off to finish packing, and forcing her boss to swear he could complete the paperwork on his own.
She managed to stand properly and massaged her back with her fingers. The scarf was scooped up and deposited in the correct pile. She surveyed the chaos around her with a frown. It was going to be a long couple of days.
****
Erik was jolted out of his morning ponderings by the sound of a large pile of files being dumped onto his desk, followed by the softer sound of his coffee being set down.
He scrambled to regain his equilibrium, startled into dragging his feet off his desk and he was on his feet within seconds.
Christine was smirking, her hands on her hips and her head cocked to the side.
"I'm sorry sir, did I startle you?" she asked innocently.
Erik had decided he loved it when she smirked. A couple of weeks ago, he'd had a rather explicit dream involving Christine, handcuffs, and that exact smirk. Since that night, he'd decided he would do everything in his power to bring that look to her face. Unfortunately, he'd also realised that since that night, that smirk caused a prominent physical reaction to the memory of his dream, so he sat down again hurriedly.
This caused Christine's smirk to grow even wider. She thoroughly enjoyed it when she could disconcert him to the point of embarrassment. In her opinion, Erik Deslar has spent far too long up on his high horse, and it was time he was knocked back to earth. Any occasion in which she could stir him up a little and remind him that he was just another man was just fine by her.
Christine looked down at the stack of papers she had just unceremoniously dumped onto his desk. "I see you didn't manage to accomplish the simple paperwork that you promised you'd do."
Erik cleared his throat, a little embarrassed, and sought to change the subject.
"You look tired," he said bluntly, noticing the bags under her eyes.
She took a sip from her own coffee and gave him a look over the rim on the cup.
"I was up late packing. I'm moving into my townhouse tomorrow."
Erik felt a welling of annoyance.
"You were up late packing?"
The look she was giving him hardened.
"Yes, sir. Packing. We don't all have a legion of terrified slaves to do our bidding, now, do we?"
Christine laid his schedule on his desk, completely missing the grin that flashed across Erik's face.
"A legion of terrified slaves? I like it. There has to be some perks to being the antichrist, no? Why did you leave it so late, I could have provided you with terrified slaves to help."
She made a tsk noise and straightened.
"I left it so late because I've been kept at the office every night for weeks helping you straighten out the Shanahan portfolio."
Erik felt guilty. He hadn't meant to work his fiery little angel into the ground. But he couldn't bear to let her go home at the end of the day, when the alternative for him was to go home to a large, empty house.
"Well, if that's all, sir, I really ought to finish this paperwork that you didn't get around to last night. I'll meet you at 10.30 for the meeting with Shanahan's reps."
She turned and walked to the door, giving Erik a perfect vision of her taught backside, taking that soothing smell of roses with her. He pulled himself out of his reverie just before the door closed behind her.
"Daae, wait!"
She caught the door with her fingers and came back in, looking a little annoyed.
"Did you need help packing and moving? I do have a legion of terrified slaves at my disposal," he said seriously, keeping his face completely straight.
Christine cocked her head to the side again and smiled. He'd made a joke. Perhaps he wasn't a complete lost cause after all.
She managed to wipe the smile from her face while she repeated the mantra she had developed in her head to get her through her daily work life.
Snap out of it, Christine, she scolded herself, Think of the way he treats Margaret, and Pam. He's an evil, evil, bad, bad man. Ignore the fact that his smile is gorgeous and his arse- no! Evil evil bad bad man!
Normally she would refuse help that was being forced into helping her by what would doubtless be dire threats and intimidation, but she really was starting to worry about the amount of work required to move. Somehow, she had managed to complete underestimate the amount of belongings she has acquired during her stay in her apartment. She had dozens of boxes, no-one to help her carry them down the stairs, and she had no idea how to drive the truck she had hired. A vision of ten men doing all the heavy lifting she had been dreading made her sigh in relief.
The annoyance faded and she smiled at him.
"Actually, I'd love some help. I was actually worried about how I was going to manage this on my own," she admitted.
"I very much doubt there's anything you couldn't do, on your own or not," he said softly.
Her smile widened, and Erik felt that warm feeling in his chest that he only got when he was around her.
I'm turning into a completely lovesick puppy, he thought.
Only when Christine cleared her throat loudly did he realise moments had passed and he'd been staring.
"Ok, so, helping you move," he said, a little loudly, "I'll schedule it then, say 8.30 tomorrow?"
"Sure. Thank you, sir."
She walked out the door, to her office, and didn't hear him whisper, "Not sir. Erik."
****
At about 8.30 the following morning, Christine was rushing around her apartment like a demented being. In one hand she held a hair drier, the other held a packet of candles she had found hiding behind the spare soap in the cabinet underneath the bathroom sink.
She'd left the door open so that the movers could just find their way in and begin lugging her boxes downstairs to where the company had parked (and very unhelpfully left) a rental truck in the street below.
Right on cue, someone banged on the open door. Frazzled, Christine just threw the objects in her hands into the nearest box, and shouted "Come in!"
Rushing back to the front door, still distracted, she continued, "Just come in and start grabbing boxes!"
"Alright... but I brought breakfast," a very masculine and amused voice replied. Christine skidded to a halt as she turned into the hall, a few meters from the door.
"Erik!"
Her boss was standing in the doorway, looking effortlessly stunning in black slacks and a button down white shirt. She was so taken aback that she couldn't stop herself staring, momentarily stunned speechless.
He grinned. He loved it when she forgot herself and called him by his first name. He held up a paper takeaway bag and a tray holding two coffees.
"I-I- I don't understand," she said confusedly, "I said I was moving today, did you need something, is something wrong?"
Erik cocked his head to the side, looking puzzled. "You said you needed help moving today. You did say 8.30, did you not?" he asked, raising the hand carrying the paper bag to check his Cartier watch.
Christine gaped. "You're here to help me... move?" she asked incredulously.
Smirking, Erik feigned innocence. "I'm sorry, was I not clear?"
"Well, I, I assumed you were going to hire labourers or something," she sputtered.
She was so cute.
"I did. But I thought you might not be finished packing, so I told them to arrive in 9.30, and thought I'd pop by earlier to bring you breakfast and help you finish packing."
"You thought you'd pop by and bring me breakfast," she repeated suspiciously.
"Indeed. Danish pastry?"
"Uh- sure, thankyou," she said, taking the proffered bag. "Actually, I'm starving, I haven't had anything to eat yet this morning!" she added, turning to walk into the kitchenette.
Behind her back, Erik frowned. He has developed a strong desire to take care of her and it didn't help the situation when she did silly things that were bad for her like skipping breakfast.
He followed her through her flat and seated himself opposite her at the small round table. She offered him the remaining pastry and then smiled contentedly as she took a bite of her own breakfast. She chewed with her eyes closed in bliss, like she had never tasted anything so wonderful.
In actual fact, Erik had done very careful research into her favourite breakfast. With a trim figure like Christine's, one could hardly expect her to indulge in her favourite every day. It had taken a large amount of hassling Pam, and some cock and bull story about him needing her comfortable and happy at a settlement meeting, to find out about her fondness for Danishes.
Still watching her, he reached for his coffee, not looking what he was doing. His hand met only air. Without looking away from her happy face, he brought his hand sharply back to his body. He connected with the coffee he had just missed previously, knocking the contents back towards him, staining the front of his crisp white shirt a dark brown.
"Merde!" he cursed loudly, jolting Christine violently out of her Danish-induced reverie, and she leapt out of her chair. Erik stumbled to his feet, swearing under his breath and holding the wet material from his skin to stop himself being burned.
"Oh god," she said worriedly, "Uh- um, I'll get some water!"
She strode to the cupboards, only to remember that she has already packed all her glasses.
Shit! What... Bathroom!
She ran out to the bathroom across the hall.
Still swearing, Erik was fuming at himself. Moron! How do you expect anyone to be attracted to such a clumsy- gah!
Angrily, he stripped the sopping shirt from his body, bunching it up to wipe the remaining liquid from his toned chest.
Honestly, I'm going to insist that any coffee I drink from now on be in screw top cups with-
At that moment, there was a shriek and the sound of breaking glass.
Christine was back from the bathroom, and was staring at his naked chest. She had been bringing back a glass of water, when she has re-entered the kitchen and been greeted by the most beautiful and arousing sight she could ever remember coming across. The glass fell from her now limp fingers, shattering on the tile. Her mouth dropped open, and despite her determination to stop fantasising about him, her mind went hopelessly blank, and all she could do was stare at what was obviously an excellent specimen of a very fit man.
Erik froze, then slowly lowered the bunched shirt that was partially obscured her view. A smile slowly found its way onto his lips.
Well, perhaps this situation has its advantages after all.
He took a step towards her, his smile becoming seductive. The shirt dropped completely. Her eyes finally managed to rise from his chest and focused on his face.
"Christine," he said, his voice deep and melodic, and she felt it pull at her even as he took another step toward her.
****
Soooo.... scale of 1 to 10, how evil am I for leaving it right there?
Thankyou for your continued patience.
Was it long enough? Did I fulfil your cravings for flirting and topless Erik- oh. Wait. You can't ever fulfil those cravings... :D
R&R my loves!
Ankh