" C'mon in, Shanika," he invited her. "Just set it down there." He indicated a spot on the desk not covered in papers.Shanika walked in and placed the cup on the desk. He looked up at her and smiled. She smiled back, and feeling a little embarrassed again, looked down from his gaze."Thank you, girl," he said."You're welcome, sir," she replied. "Can I get you anything else?" No, that's all for now," he turned back to his work.Shanika went back down the hall to the reception area and sat at her desk. She thought about her encounter with Mr. Whitlock. Unlike Miz Peterson he hadn't objected to her formalities. And he called her girl. She felt her pussy getting wet.The morning proceeded uneventfully. Around one her phone rang with the single ring indicating an inside call. She saw on the display that the call was from Mr. Whitlock."Yes, sir?" she said."Would you come back here, girl?" he asked."Yes, sir." Shanika rose and walked back to Craig's office."Say, Shanika," he started, "would you. She wanted to react to that thought, wanted to let it pierce the shadows in her mind, but before she could, a noise behind her drew her attention. A figure was leaning against the glass facade of the house behind her: tall, dark and vaguely threatening - a beautiful spectre in a world of grey. A man. His face, his identity obscured by the shadows of the living world. “Who are you?” She knew it to be a stupid question, knew the “where” and “how” should be more important than the “who”, but it just slipped out nevertheless. Inconsequential human attention to peripheral information. She had never met him before, of that she was certain - but she also felt as if she had known him all her life; as if his deep, melodic voice had been interwoven with her existence since the very beginning. The voice reached into her, touching something primal, something intimate like a strange belonging. An inexplicable anger rose in her. She was suddenly furious by his power to confuse her and demand.
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