Office Romance: A Moment of Zen

A fictional tale of love in the workplace

“Sadly, when we thought we were peaking, we had actually plateaued and we’d come crashing down at lightning speed.”

“Your fiery eyes and that naughty smile

Are the reasons I have had my finger on the dial,

For quite a while…”

So I tried to write a sweet poem for this sexy co-worker I had a crush on and that’s how the poem would have started… Not my best work.

Truth of the matter is that this poem would not do justice in explaining how I got to the point where I was now writing poetry for this girl.

My tragedy takes place at the office. I know — don’t get your potatoes where you get your meat or don’t soil your nest. I get it now.

It was a random Monday morning when I was passing by the Human Resources office and I was blinded by the sight of this girl through their glass doors. Light in complexion, body like the figure “8” with curves in all the right places, I proceeded to move past this office and go about my business as usual.

I stepped outside my office to enjoy a smoke break — one of only 3 during office hours. Still I continued to think about this beauty — “She can’t be here for an interview!” I thought, “We have just hired the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on!”

During this smoke I made up my mind — I was going to get another glimpse of this beauty. So I ended my smoke sooner than I normally would and proceeded to step inside the office. As I approached the corridor that goes past our Human Resources office, my heart skipped a beat. I looked to my left into the HR office to see her, only to find that those beautiful dark eyes were looking at me too!

I am a ball of nerves and time stands still for what seems like an eternity. “What do I do now? She saw me looking at her… Do I wave? Do I step in and greet?” Almost confidently I proceed to wave and smile to which I get a wave and smile back.

Her teeth were so white and her smile so perfect — I didn’t let this get to me though — she is a colleague and I am a professional. This, almost sinful lust had captured my entire morning and deemed me completely unproductive for the rest of the day.

By lunch time I had concluded that she has the perfect smile — she’s a bit wary about the one “vampire tooth” she has behind her upper right hand-side molars but that’s what made her smile perfect and I really wouldn’t have it any other way.

Zendaya was her name.

The next few days would prove to be so exciting as I got to know her better. It started with work related visits into the HR office to speak to her colleagues but really to see her. Then came non-work related visits for the candy and sweet treats they kept at the office (I say kept because I demolished their stock keeping in a matter of days) but really to see her.

I would notice something amazing about her each day.

Then one fateful afternoon as I was enjoying my 3rd smoke break, Zendaya would join me at the balcony, light up a cigarette and then proceed to ask “What? Girls aren’t allowed to smoke?” in a raspy voice.

I laughed, then she laughed.

In all honesty I had no clue she smoked. It looked good on her, it matched the fire in her dark eyes. We started talking about work and then about sex. You see, this college educated HR Processing Consultant was a sex blogger by night. She was opinionated, expressive and very selfish when it came to her impulses.

We connected on several levels.

We’d take smoke breaks together, maybe two or three a day. These smoky conversations filled with laughter and humour and talks about family, love, money and sex would be the highlight of my days at work. And when I got home I would tap into her blog to read about her sexcapades before retiring to my lonely bed haunted by dreams of an office romance. I was falling for her.

I hoped that somewhere in her heart was a soft spot for me. We were both single, I believe both looking for something more than just a hot shag every now and then — maybe some companionship and love.

Ah love… that four letter word that seemed to have eluded us for so long in our lives looked possible. However, I still couldn’t help but shake the feeling that we weren’t meant to “hook up” at work. It was unprofessional, it would put our jobs in jeopardy. I remember looking at the words “HUMAN RESOURCES” written above her office door and feeling cold inside.

I put aside all doubt and wore my heart on my sleeve.

That Friday morning I asked Zendaya if she’d join me for drinks after work, she accepted. I was so chuffed I couldn’t believe it.

We made our way to a nearby restaurant and sat in the smoking section. She insisted on Jager bombs and Heineken. The waiters weren’t allowed to remove the shot glasses and would have to bring new glasses for every new round of drinks. She would measure how late it got by arranging all of the shot glasses to spell “Zendaya”. Needless to say by the time she could arrange “Zen”, we were cockeyed. We agreed to call it a night and complete the conquest some other time.

She called later that night to advise that she had arrived home safe.

Monday morning was weird.

You could cut the tension with a knife. This didn’t stop us from keeping our smoking schedules, and laughing and joking. She was disappointed I didn’t call her over the weekend. I felt that one night of blasphemous drinking was enough for a weekend and that my organs would thank me for that decision much later in life.

Some time passes by.

We finally got to attempt the “Zendaya” conquest at our staff Christmas party. She wore this little black dress with silver earrings and black designer heels. She was a vision of true beauty, fashion consciousness and a sight for sore eyes (I had arrived at the party way too early).

I moved from the bar where I had enjoyed a leisurely chat with some office mates towards the swings that had been set up adjacent to the lounge area behind the bar. I knew she was walking towards me while I was walking away. I sat on the swing holding my beer glass. She came, grabbed my glass and asked why I was playing hard to get.

I just wanted to kiss her but she subdued me with her hip swaying and booty shaking — a dance routine as sultry as Queen Sheba herself. A dance routine for me. She moved provocatively on the swing, to and fro and eventually landed in my arms.

We sat on the swings and took pictures of a genuinely good time. It felt rhapsodic. I got up to refresh our drinks. At this point, the party was well under way, morals had fell by the wayside and everyone was degenerate. We couldn’t keep the shot glasses this time but we knew it would take at least 28 shots to spell Zendaya. So we kept count. The fact that we were going to attempt this at a work function provided all the adrenaline we could ask for.

Sadly, when we thought we were peaking, we had actually plateaued and we’d come crashing down at lightning speed.

When Zendaya got back up to dance some more this dead loss by the name of Nkosana (a self-proclaimed ladies man and God’s gift to women) who had been watching the whole thing, got up to start grinding against her, she moved away and he followed her, once more she moved away and again he followed. Overflowing with anger and irritation, the palm of my right hand connected with his face. He stopped, and stepped back. Zendaya paused in shock and continued to dance away from the commotion.

I came crashing down. This was a company event and I had just messed up colossally.

I approached this hulk figured man-thing to offer my apologies, he didn’t take it. I then tried to speak to the woman of my dreams but she too had danced away from me. The next time I’d see her was when she was leaving the party, she said goodbye and there was nothing I could do to stop her.

Nkosana was applauded for being the bigger man. I couldn’t be bothered, I just wanted to share 4 more shots with Zendaya. I knew that 4 more shots would make her mine. We would have completed the conquest.

Our next conversations would be brief and direct, she said she didn’t want to complicate things, that we work together and should just be friends. I couldn’t lose this woman completely and had to accept her terms but little did I realise that losing this woman and just being her friend were one and the same thing.

I still long to hold her in my arms as I did on the swings. I still want to be danced for and I cant wait to kiss her pale pink lips. And this is why there is an incomplete poem that reads:

“Your fiery eyes and that naughty smile

Are the reasons I have had my finger on the dial,

For quite a while”

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