My phone rings. “Hello, Smita here…. Yes sir, I’ll be in your office in two minutes.” His voice sounds irritated, even slightly angry. I feel nervous as I tread the corridor to his office. It is unlike him. He is always so kind. He never criticizes me and he always understands if I am ill or late. He is the perfect boss and this job is easily the best I have ever had.
Feeling gradually more confident, I arrive at his door. I knock softly and wait. “Come in Smita.” I enter cautiously, smiling. He smiles back. He is an attractive man, for his age. He must be twice as old as me. I am 26. “Sit down here Smita.” He gestures towards a chair, continuing to smile warmly.
“Thank you sir.” I was wrong, he is not angry. He sits behind his desk; his strong brown eyes gaze across at me. They dart across my face, then my cleavage. His eyes always wander. He likes me I know. It is my fault. I am wearing a thin blue sari with a blouse that plunges at the front displaying plenty.
“Smita, we have a slight problem here. Someone has invited Ravi Singh to next week’s luncheon.” I look surprised; Singh is one of my boss’s business partners. “Well, normally it would be fine Smita, but you see I’ve also invited Ahmed Hassan and he hates Singh. If Singh is there I can kiss goodbye any chance of getting a new contract from Hassan.”
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