Sitting at my desk, I couldn’t help but stare at you intently as you filed away my paper work for me. You were Don Draper’s secretary, and a good one at that. It was like you were well oiled working machine, and not a bad one to look at either. Even when you were the most modest dressing woman in the building. You didn’t hike up your skirt, or unbutton your blouse to the point where anyone could see your cleavage. You also didn’t wear pantyhose. Especially the ones that had that line in the back of them. Those always got a man’s attention. We just couldn’t help our selves by following it with our gaze, all the way up to the hem of the woman’s skirt, and wondering where it lead to.

Stubbing out my cigarette, I lean back in my chair eyeing you with a smirk. “You're awfully helpful this morning, aren't you?" Standing up, I straighten out my suit.

You were definitely more helpful than Ginger that’s for sure. All she knew how to do was answer phones and write down messages. “You know, when you speak in that lovely Irish accent of yours, It's almost like I'm getting a free charm lesson with my paperwork."

I was being my usual charming self when it came to you. Being playful and flirty. Though there was one thing on my mind that was eating away at me. It was why you turned me down when I asked you out on a date. You were very polite about it I have to admit. Wanting to keep things professional between us. It was respectable, and usually I wouldn’t give it a second thought and move on to the next thing that grabbed my attention but, for some reason it bothered me.

“Have all the men here taken the same gentlemen courses of flattery?” You retort with that quick wit of yours that I have come to enjoy. I don’t think I have ever met someone who was as authentic as you were. There were no strings attached, hidden motives, or games when it came to you. I admired it. Though I couldn’t blame you for what you said. All the men here had a certain charm to them when it came to pretty things. Especially pretty new things around the office, and they certainly made due. Sleeping with the ones who would let them, and trying to persuade the ones that wouldn’t.

“Oh, the charm courses are mandatory for the men here. It’s part of the training. ‘How to be a suave man in the world of advertising.’” Chuckling I take a step towards you. “But come on, you can’t fault a guy for noticing a pretty woman in the room. Especially one with that lovely accent.”

“Ah,” As you stretched out the word, I could already tell that you were feigning your sudden epiphany . “So it’s my fault. I sometimes wonder why God has forsaken me with such a beautiful face.”

I couldn’t help but grin at your self-deprecating humor, appreciating the fact that you weren’t another copy of the other women at the office. “Oh, please. God knew what he was doing with that face of yours." Leaning over your shoulder to watch you file the papers, my closeness just a bit more intimate than necessary. “Besides, a beautiful face like yours is a crime if it’s not being properly appreciated."