The usual disclaimers apply. See the first chapter for anything else.
Enthralling Toby Ziegler
"Is this even a good idea, CJ?"
"Look, if you can get to Toby, you can get to anybody. Josh Lyman will be a piece of cake."
"I just don't know, CJ."
Donna sat on CJ's couch, watching as CJ paced the room. Finally, CJ settled herself on the desk across from Donna. She shook her pen as she talked, almost more to herself than Donna.
"You can do this. You just have to remember that with Toby, it's intellectual. These silly tactics that worked on Will Bailey, he won't tolerate them. Cross your legs suggestively once and he will write you off."
"I can't do this."
"Yes, you can. You say you're insecure about your looks. Intellectual stimulation should be what you're good at. You've got a quick mind, so you can keep up with Toby, and you're smart and witty enough to hold his attention. Just be tough; he respects that." She got up and began to circle her desk. "Your verbal sparring is strong. My God, you keep Josh Lyman in line. Don't ever repeat this to him, but he's a lot to keep up with in that department."
"But Toby's not like Josh. There's no sense of my inherent superiority. He scares me a little."
"That's okay. Let him scare you until you've figured out how his brain is working. The key is to get him through his work, because, let's face it, work is what's most important to him."
"How in the world am I supposed to get into his work?"
"I've convinced him to ask Josh to borrow you to help him find and organize all his notes for the speech. You should see his office. It'll be at least a couple of hours of work. That ought to give you enough time to do your thing. And make Josh miss you."
"And I just go in there and try to get under his skin through his brain?"
"If I'm understanding your metaphor, yes."
"So it doesn't matter what I wear?"
"Don't let Toby fool you: he's still a man. You just can't let the physical carry you. It really won't come into play anyway until you've got him. It'll take him that long to notice." CJ sat back down at her desk, smiling to herself. "Go easy on the makeup. Except your eyes. He likes them. He told me that once. And wear something blue."
"CJ, it frightens me how well you know Toby."
"It should scare me more."
The next day…
Though Toby was Donna's primary focus, she couldn't forget Josh. Her approach with him on Tuesday was aloofness. Coolness. Almost like she was angry. She wanted him to be pondering her behavior.
"Donna," he bellowed from his office.
"Yes, Josh." She stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, reading the paper in her hand. She was shocked at how bright her electric blue button-down shirt was under fluorescent lights. But it looked so good with her black slacks.
"Is there something wrong with you today?"
"Such as…?"
"If I knew, would I ask?"
She didn't even look up. "If you were playing a mind game. Do you actually need anything?"
"No." As she turned to leave, he said, "Except I have this itch. Right here." He pointed to his back. "You have fingernails."
"Yes, Joshua, as do you."
"Let me see your nails."
She approached the desk and stuck out one hand, glad that she had just polished her nails a deep burgundy the night before.
He said, "Please help me."
Resignedly, she crossed behind him and followed his directions until she found the exact spot that needed to be scratched. His shoulders dipped and he let out a sigh.
"Ahhh…that's it…yep…God I hate it when you have itches that you…ahhh…can't reach. Thanks."
She stood there for a moment, and she saw a stray long blonde hair perched on his collar, looking almost as though it was attached to his head.
"You've got a hair," she said.
She scraped her fingers lightly across his neck to remove the hair, failing on purpose.
"Come here, hair." She made another pass across his neck, just at the hairline, this time with a lighter touch. After he visibly shivered, she held up the hair.
"Now how did that get there?" she said.
"Is that yours?"
"Yep. Did we have some fun I can't remember?"
She left the office before he could think of a response.
Right after lunch, or the snack break that often passed as lunch around her office, Josh called her into his office again.
"Are we good this afternoon?"
"You don't have any appointments, if that's what you mean."
"I mean, do you have anything pressing to do?"
"There's always something pressing. But what I'm working on can wait. What's up?"
"Toby needs you."
"Toby?"
"His notes for the speech are in a disarray, and you know Toby, he can't be bothered with trivial matters like finding important notes when he's working on a speech, even if the notes are for the speech. He wants you to help organize everything."
"You're kidding."
"I know, it's difficult to believe, but he asked for you specifically. I guess Ginger's busy, that and she's not really allowed in his office. He obviously doesn't know how much more confusing things will be if you work your organizing magic. But he wants you to try."
"Now."
"Yes, now."
"Don't miss me too much."
She walked slowly down the hallway, breathing deeply. She thought, it's like banter with Josh, or maybe Josh on a bad day. I can do this.
His door was open. "Are you ready for me?"
"Yeah," he said without looking up.
"So, what am I sorting and how do you want it sorted?"
"Anything that's not in the filing cabinet or on my desk. By subject, then date. Even if it's a gas receipt, if it's got writing on it, save it."
"Two more questions."
"I should have known."
"Do you want me to retype the handwritten stuff later, and do you have any empty folders or manila envelopes?"
"If I do, they're in the bottom drawer in that gray cabinet."
Donna was already in motion, carefully stepping over all the junk in the floor.
Toby said, "Donna, do you actually have time to type my notes?"
"I can make time."
"Good," he said, and he left the office.
Donna let out a sigh of relief. It would be harder to accomplish her goal if he was gone; then again, straightening the mess would be much easier. By the time he returned, she had started seven different folders and she had gathered all the papers into one big stack at least a foot thick. She was sitting indian style on the floor, and her folder stacks extended to the doorway. Toby nearly stepped on 'foreign policy' when he entered the room.
Donna said, "Do you want the budget stuff in subcategories?"
"Huh?"
"I've got budget concerns all in one group right now, but I can narrow that to previous budgets and current, or notes on numbers versus notes on trends. Preference?"
"My God, Donna, I didn't realize how much stuff I had laying around here. CJ was right."
"Lying around here. I take it you don't care how budget's organized."
He paused for a moment. "No, go with current and previous, but keep current notes with numbers separate. In fact—"
"You want them in the stack for 'statistics.'"
"You're scaring me, Donna. Please don't tell me you also have a file for pompous but vague statements."
"I'm calling it 'self-important nonsense,' but that's written in pencil. It's absorbing anything I can't find a home for, pending your review. Personally, I think some of it either goes in the garbage or directly into the speech. But I'm not paid to write."
"Thank God. Let me see that pile."
She stood and groaned as her neck and back popped. "I'm too old to be sitting on the floor like that." She shook her left foot, which was falling asleep.
Toby read through a few of the scraps of paper, discarding the first three. "You're right. Some of this is…Well, this goes in with the education stack."
"Which one?"
"Underprivileged children will stay that way unless we give them the privilege of an education."
"That's idealistic to say the least."
"But it's education."
"It's an overblown rhetorical trick, a nice mantra of no substance."
"Don't you think that's a little harsh?"
"No, and neither do you. You didn't even write it. I'd guess that Will Bailey did."
He raised his eyebrows. "How did you…?"
"It sounds like a part of the speech he read me this morning. He repeats words."
"He knows I have a low tolerance for that," he said to himself. He looked at Donna again and said, "And it's even my handwriting."
"So you're saying you like it?"
He wadded the paper and threw it in the trash. "That boy ought to have you proofreading everything he sends me."
"Is it that bad?"
"No. No, it's good. He just can't see some of the sweeping generalizations."
"I thought that's what presidential speeches were based on."
"Donna, are you sure you work for Josh and not the other way around?"
"On paper." Donna sat on the couch and arched her back. "Wow, I should never, ever sit like that in the floor again."
"Come here," Toby said.
"Huh?"
"I can pop your back for you. I do it for CJ all the time. Come here. Turn around and cross your arms in front of you."
Donna felt Toby's arms go around her. He felt surprisingly strong and a lot less formal than she thought he would feel with his arms around someone. As he adjusted his hold on her, she could swear she heard him smelling her hair. He counted to three and raised her off the ground, shaking her until all the vertebrae in her back gave. He let her go and sat back down.
She took a minute to stretch her arms before she started to gather her papers off the floor.
"Thanks, Toby."
"No problem."
Neither said anything for nearly an hour. Donna sat on the couch, reading papers and sending them floating to the appropriate stack at her feet. She was strangely glad for the chance to do something new. Toby came and went, always settling back down to the computer with the same manuscript in his hand. Every time he entered the room, he stopped and stared at Donna, as if he had forgotten that she was there. Or, Donna thought, as if he just wanted to look at her. She decided to ignore it.
Donna said, "This is the last one. I've tried to read it four times, and it is starting to not even look like English."
"Is the handwriting small and loopy?"
"Yep."
"That's Mike. He knows better than to write anything important down. You can probably throw it away."
"I don't know. You've handwritten a note at the bottom."
"Which says…"
"'Smell,' or 'save' with an exclamation point."
"Let me see."
She walked around and stood beside him, note pad in one hand, her other resting on the back of his chair. He read the notes over once then dictated it to her. She leaned carefully over the desk, rewriting the note and ignoring the fact that Toby was indeed staring at her ass.
After she added that page to its stack, she added the stack to the box full of folders and lifted it, straining. "I'm going to take the files down to my desk and start retyping. Yell if you need any of them. Do you want them on separate pages or together?"
"Together. Just date it, okay?"
"Gotcha."
After two hours of typing, plus interruptions from Josh, she was done. She stealthily reapplied her lipstick and lugged the box back down the hallway. Toby rose quickly from his seat and took the box from her.
"Thanks, Donna."
"No problem. Wow, your office looks clean."
"I don't think this office has looked this nice since…ever."
"How long before you drag it all back out?"
He smiled a little, shaking his head. "Three hours, tops. But at least now there is a method to the madness. I just can't stand it. It doesn't even look like I'm working in here." He stopped and stared at her for a moment. He sat down and saw that she was still standing there. Surprisingly, he didn't stare at her as if she should leave. "I believe I was getting used to having you in here. I might have to steal you from Josh more often. It'll piss him off, but how else can I get my office to smell so nice."
Donna smiled without responding and left Toby's office, conscious of the near smile she had put on his face. That, and he was staring at her ass again. Yep, the typical man. It was a small victory, but it was something. She retreated down the hallway to face her long-term goal. He was even more a typical man.
"Donna," she mumbled to herself, "You're almost there."
Continued…