*Kenneth

The slim hand in Kenneth's hold jerked free. Reese's eyes, large in the photos on-line, were wider than the shining circles on floppy disks.

"Hold up there, you are rather fast on the draw," she said, her black heels planted in the ground. "You need to seduce women four days from now?" She held up four fingers, as if she wasn't sure she heard correctly.

Chances seemed horribly slim that she would accept the job at that point, but he had to try. "Yes, I need lessons on how to be a romancing, seducing machine—or at least learn how to match my clothes—and I've chosen you as my man coach for this endeavor. To begin with, there will be only one woman, if that will make it easier."

Reese shushed him, putting a finger over his mouth. "How do you know about my blog and the coaching?" she asked, voice low and sharp. He started to answer but she hushed him again.

Standing slowly, she scanned the room over the partitions and ducked down again for their tête-à-tête. "Now tell me how you know about my website. You realize how bad this looks for someone working here? The ultra-professional sheen on Orbis Tech would be tarnished if this got out. You haven't told anyone, have you?"

"Of course not. I tracked the VPN address to the physical address from the provider for the website."

"Oh." Her pouty red lips held the O shape of her word, and she shook her head slowly at him. "What?"

"I was pretty sure when I saw the name that I recognized you from somewhere, but I went ahead and cross-checked with Google maps and then found your profile on LinkedIn."

"How very stalkerish of you, Kenneth." Her eyebrows knitted into a frown. "I don't know what to say. My VPN address? What the hell."

"Sure. The VPN. It's not like I actually drove to your house and spied on you. That would be wrong."

"Yeah. Wrong. So very, very wrong."

"Listen, I have a date this Friday night, and I am desperate." He put a hand over his heart, which would hopefully convey honesty and vulnerability in order to sway her to his side. "I need help. After spending last night sifting through personal coach ads and websites, I listed their areas of expertise and their positive and negative aspects on a spreadsheet to create graphs. After I poured through the data again, I determined you were my top choice. Being a real-life personal coach was listed as an up-and-coming service, I know. However, your lack of experience is far outweighed by your proximity, hopefully your availability, and the high quality of advice you give. And not just on sex positions and toys—not that I didn't read those posts attentively. But my first goal is succeeding on a date. Just like you say: to win a woman's heart, you have to be the fulfillment of her needs, and to do that you have to be the best version of yourself."

"You made graphs to choose me?"

"Wouldn't you?"

Reese dropped her head in her hands. "But what the hell is a VPN address, and how do I make mine a secret?"

"Easy."

"Hey, Reese, everything all right?" asked a woman as she leaned over the central partition, smacking gum in her mouth.

Reese popped upright with big smile on her face. "Just fine, Barb. No worries. I had someone come up to take a look at my computer. It's on the fritz."

"Oh my gosh. What's wrong with it?" Barb left her cubicle to circle around to Reese's computer.

Kenneth grabbed Reese's keyboard and hit the all-powerful Ctrl-Alt-Delete before Barb butted in, and Reese's accounting documents reappeared like magic. Taking control of her computer from downstairs while the regular help desk guy had his coffee break had been a walk in the park. Fixing it was even easier. Black Screen of Death, gone. Poof. Vanished.

Barb squeezed in the tight space with them, her ample form pressed on his back as she peered at the screen up close. "Looks good to me." She adjusted her glasses a few times, studying it.

"It's great. Kenneth laid his hands on my computer and cured it. That was amazing. I think I owe you a coffee." Reese quirked a smooth eyebrow at him. "Don't you?"

Body language. He could do this.

"Why, yes. Yes, indeed that would be lovely. Let's go"—he hiked a thumb over his shoulder—"to this floor's break room."

"Would you bring me back a green tea, Reese, hon?" Barb said. "I've been detoxing for a week and it's been miraculous."

"Of course I will," Reese replied, pointing at the exit behind Barb's back. "You know I am all about wellness and taking care of the body. You'll have to let me know how it's working for you—but later." She ushered him from her cubicle, led him around the maze, and down the hall.

The small, austere break room surprised him. He had expected the cushy comforts of the Tech Department's lounge. This conversation would be easier with Star Wars posters, koosh balls, and a Rubik's Cube to solve. Here there were a couple of tables, metal chairs, and a long counter where the coffee machine sat. A machine that had only two buttons. He would manage, though.

"So how much do you charge?" Kenneth asked, taking a step inside. "Is it per hour, per day, per week?"

"Shhhh!" she hissed, shutting the door of the break room. Hands on his chest, she pushed him to the wall and then covered his mouth. She was so short she had to stretch her arms up to silence him.

Kenneth bent his knees to help her out. Short girls were so adorable. He did not, in any way, notice her breasts pressed against his chest. And if he did notice it and how utterly amazing it felt, he did not, in any way, take any sort of pleasure from it.

His cock had a different view of the whole situation.

*** Hmmm. Things are getting interesting in the break room... ***