The Boss (A Michael Jackson FanFiction)

The Boss..11..

"Woah!" Eric gasps when I brush past him, knocking papers from his hands. "Tam, wh--what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing!" I shout as he bends to pick up the papers from the floor.

"Seems like a little more than nothing to me, Tam." Eric mumbles as I turn around to face him.

"I-I'm sorry, Eric." I apologize, feeling bad for snapping at him, as I bend to help him pick up the rest of the papers. "I'm just--I'm sorry, okay?"

"It's fine." Eric sighs as we stand from picking up the papers. "Where were you coming from? And why are you all sweaty and disheveled?"

I look down at my clothes and see not a bead of sweat or a sign of dishevelment.

"I'm not sweaty, Eric." I frown.

Eric takes one of his long fingers and wipes my forehead before showing me the moisture on the tip.

"That's sweat, Tamera."

"Well, I walked down a shit load of stairs, Eric."

"You did what?" Eric frowns at me then chuckles a little. "Why in the hell would you do a foolish thing like that, Tamera? There are these mechanical lifts called elevators, ya know? Why would you walk down that many stairs?"

"I needed exercise--the fresh air." I shrug, thinking of the jackass Michael turned out to be. "And I needed a long walk to get it."

Eric studies my face. "Tam, are you okay?"

"I'm peachy, Eric." I plaster a fake smile then look over at my secretarial counter. "When did that come in?"

There's a computer, a very nice iMac to be exact, on the desk.

"It came in a few minutes ago." Eric smiles, walking over to it with me. "I thought since we're already here, we might as well get a little something done."

"Yeah, right." I scoff. "A client's coming tomorrow."

"See how well you know me?" Eric chuckles.

"I know you very well, Mr. Southern. Now, is this my first day of work?"

"Officially," He breathes in as he wipes the counter with his hands. "that would be tomorrow, because you're, although you look great, Tam, you're not exactly dressed for a day at work today."

"And you are?" I point at the black tank I'm just now realizing he has on.

And damn!

My eyes linger on his biceps and the various veins bulging from his forearm.

"When did you change?" I ask as I make myself look away from his chest.

What is wrong with me? I can't have these thoughts... and about Eric.

It's just that I never noticed how in shape he was before now.

"I just took off my shirt." He smiles as he shows me the red plaid button up shirt he had on before. "Is it a problem?"

"No," I clear my throat, purposely not making eye contact. "you can take off your shirt whenever, Eric. You're the boss."

"I'll keep that permission in mind, but that I am. I am the boss, Tam." Eric claps as he reaches across me to grab a stack of papers. "And my first request as your boss is for you to, please, take these papers to the printing center on the--"

"The 68th floor?" I complete his sentence and he nods impressed.

"Right, I guess you did do your studying on the way down."

"What else was there to do?"

"Sweat." Eric laughs as he places the papers in my hands.

"Whatever." I grin, holding the stack of papers against my right hip. "You want copies?"

"Yes."

"Just tell me how many and I'll get right on it."

"I'd like fifty copies of each."

"Each?" I gasp. "Eric, I can't carry fifty copies of each, from this stack, back down here. There's like thirty different papers here."

"There's only fifteen," Eric corrects. "and they are important, Tam."

"How am I going to carry--" I pause to do the math in my head. "750 copies of these papers back down here?"

"Get some helpless buffoon to help to carry them back down here."

"Eric, I don't know anybody in this building. Who's going to help me?"

"Use that Stewart charm, Tam." Eric winks, shooing me to the elevators. "Your good looks have gotten you this far, and I'm quite sure they will get you even further."

"Say the blonde-haired, blue-eyed God."

"I'm only a demigod, Tamera." Eric jokes as he presses the call button for the elevator. "Sweetie, I'm sure someone up there will be generously willing to help you. All you have to do is ask."

"Yes, boss." I mock and Eric pinches my cheek.

"That's my girl." Eric smiles. "Oh, by the way, this will probably be the last time you'll have to lug papers up there. We're going to have our own copy/printing center on the 51st. So when that perk is available, I'll just fax what I need to be copied there, and you can do less messenger work."

"It's not a problem, Eric." I smile as the elevator dings. "As your secretary slash assistant, I knew I would be your flunky, at some point, as well."

Eric laughs as the elevator doors slide open and I step inside. "And Tam,"

"Yes, Eric?" I smile, holding the papers he wants copied against my chest.

"Use the elevator when you come back down too." He smiles. "The sight of you sweating is very alluring, but we have dinner after this. Try to shy away from the sweating; I like my employees funk free."

"Get bent, boss." I chuckle as the doors begin sliding closed.

Eric winks. "See you in a minute."

**

"What are you doing tonight?" Britta asks as she walks out of the bathroom, buttoning her blouse, before Michael.

"Whatever I want," Michael smiles, zipping his pants. "as always."

"It could be me." Britta licks her lips as she adjusts Michael's lapels. "I could be whatever you want, Mr. Jackson."

"Let me think about it, Britt."

"Okay," Britta bites at her bottom lip. "I'll be waiting with bated breath."

She stands on her tiptoes to kiss Michael, but he turns his face away.

"That's good to know." He mumbles, patting her shoulders, and she frowns. "Hey, could you go get that spreadsheet from the copy floor? I really need to look over some of the numbers."

"Oh, yes, sir." Britta smiles before pushing up her breasts to seek Michael's attention. "I'll get right on it."

"Thanks." Michael drawls as she turns away.

Britta stops to blow a kiss, over her shoulder, to Michael before walking out of his office.

Disgusted, Michael rolls his eyes.

As he prepares to walk around his desk to sit, he spots something sparkling on the floor to the side of the door.

"What is th--" Michael frowns as he walks over to the item and picks it up. He studies the diamond studded bracelet for a moment then a smile erupts on his face. "Wow. Never say never, Tamera. Never say never."

Michael kisses the bracelet then clutches it in his hand.