Temporary Secretary

Three

Amethyst's POV

What had I gotten myself into? I mean, this was better than working in the clubs, but would this be any different? I had to hide my surprise at the fact that I would now be working for Paul McCartney, as the man who hired me never told me who I would be working for. Some man named Mister Marks found me at a club one night. It was like I was selected out of all the girls there. He approached me and asked me if I would like a secretary job better than the one I was working now and I gladly obliged. I hated working the clubs. Being touched, yelled at, and looked at by disgusting men and their sly glances. At least now I had a place to stay, somewhere to go home to. Well, be at home I guess. Laying in my bed this morning, I could smell someone cooking downstairs. If this was my cue to get up, I wasn't sure if I would accept it. Yes, Paul touched me yesterday and I knew it wasn't on accident. My body began making decisions for me and I got out of bed and began getting dressed. I decided to dress nice, even though first impressions are long over for Paul, he still knows nothing about me. I put on a black skirt that was high-waisted and tight at my waist, but flowed out to above my knee, with a plain white shirt tucked into it. I wasn't sure if I should wear shoes, but I slipped on a pair of flats anyways. I brushed my straight brown hair and let it fall past my shoulders. I hesitantly opened the door and walked quietly down the stairs, anticipating our first morning meeting.

Paul's POV

I had screwed up already, I knew it. I should have never even graced her glorious body with my all too curious fingertips. She was packing right now to leave, I knew it. I was making breakfast, hoping to have some sort of conversation and get to know her before she began working for me. I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Her steps were delicate and light as a feather. She made her way to the kitchen and I turned around from the stove to see her standing in the doorway, anxious.

"Good morning, love. You can go ahead and take a seat. I've made breakfast for us." I said to her. She timidly made her way to the table and took a seat.

"Thank you, Mr. McCartney." 

Even though she was being proper, the way my last name rolled off of her full lips made me shiver on the inside.

"Have I told you to call me Paul? You can if you want to." 

"Okay, Mr. McCartney." She smiled at me and I offered one back.

Her smile lit up the room, making me feel ten times better about the situation, though I knew she was still nervous. I served her breakfast and she ate, delicately placing the food into her mouth. I was observing her every move, wanting to know every single detail of her mind, body, soul, and life.

"So, Amethyst, won't you tell me about yourself?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Just start at the beginning. We have all day."