Mandroff took off his hat.
The woman was sitting in
a black chair busy with her
secretarial work. I’ve come
to see Mr Grove, he said.
Have you an appointment?
Sure, you don’t think I’d
come here on the off chance
do you. Name? Mandroff.
Mandroff. C? Yes, that’s right.
2pm. Take a seat, she said.
Mandroff took a seat by the
window. The woman carried
on with her work. He held his
hat in his hands and waved it
about absentmindedly. He then
looked over at the woman and
studied her hair: auburn, wavy.
Well groomed dame. He lowered
his sight to her eyes engaged on
the task in front of her. He thought
they were blue. The lips were lips
sticked in a pale red; they came
together now and then like they
were about to kiss. He couldn’t see
much else of her; she was hidden
By the desk. He wondered what
kind of legs she had, what shape
she was when she stood up. He
wondered if her legs were crossed
or just straight down with feet on
the plush carpet. He could smell her
scent from where he sat. He sniffed
to get the full load. He took it in.
Dreams could begin here he thought.
A buzzer went off. Mr Grove will see
you now, the woman said. Mandroff
got up and as he passed by her desk
he caught a glimpse of her breasts
wrapped tight like a gift. He smiled
and he caught her eyes: full of big
sky blueness, unhappiness and lies.