A Simple Touch

Rosie

Another day full of interviews and the splitting headache that follows. On top of pack duties and dealing with rouges, running a multibillion dollar company is the icing on a multilayered stress cake. Why is it this damn difficult to find a hard working and focused PA? Instead I have to put up with flirtatious women who want the job just to fuck me. Don't get me wrong, I'm flattered but in all seriousness I have shit that needs to be done. I need an assistant that can not only keep up but stay focused on the tasks at hand and not grab at my junk every chance they get.

Technically I'm what you call the top of the food chain. The Big Boss. El Capo. The Alpha Male. Nothing happens without my say so. My word is law. I have a lot of meetings and clients that demand my attention. The extra attention, like this little slut I regret hiring as my secretary, is not only gross but extremely unwanted. Believe it or not, my father is a stickler when it comes to the subject of how to treat a woman, especially our mates. I haven't found her yet, but I know she's out there. My father is as old school as they come. Never curse in front of a lady. Open doors and pull out chairs for them. Never raise a hand to them and always put them first. That's only one side of him. The other half is demented and ruthless. But that's a story for a different time.

"Mr. Kane." Shea, that slutty secretary I mentioned; tried to sound seductive while speaking my name over my phone intercom. Her voice is like listening to nails being scrapped across a chalk board. "You're first appointment is here." I take a deep breath and straighten myself in my chair.

"Send her in." I know what you're thinking. What if it's a guy? On the rare occasion you would be right, but the ones that come in here are on the same war path as the women. The men however are way more up front about it. Which in other straight men would freak them out, but me... I admire boldness. No, that boldness wont get them anywhere but I still admire it. Other than that rare occurrence, mostly women want this job.

In walks this woman with her tits nearly busting out her top, her makeup caked heavily on her eyes and lips... and don't get me started on her skirt. If you can even call it that... and who the hell wears thigh high boots to a goddamn interview? Is there a stronger word for desperate? Ah yes! Thirsty. I remembered. I can't really blame them though. Being a werewolf, a supernatural creature, we are irrisistable to the human society. Yes we coexist. Humans don't interfere with our system and way of life unless they are mated to a wolf. We in return don't interfere with their affairs.

She sits down in the chair across from me. Normally you wait to be invited to sit but then again, clearly she's not here for actual work. She smiles and stares at me.

"This is gonna be a long day." My wolf Cobalt, or Coba as I call him, chimes in.

"Glad you decided to grace me with your presence."

"Not like you really need me when you're around humans. Do you just want me to sit here and be as bored as you if not more, while I listen to you talk in conversations I could care less about? Thats just cruel." I sigh and try to suppress the irritated growl I feel crawling its way out of my throat.

"What attributes do you have that make you qualified enough to be a personal assistant?" Honestly, at this point, the interviews consist of one easy fucking question and most can't get an entire sentence out with out adding a sexual innuendo.

"I'm very good at following directions." She winked, biting her lip.

"I don't think she means, put these files in alphabetical order kind of directions." Coba snickers.

"Really? No way!" I roll my eyes and feel him do the same.

"No need to be salty about it."