Deanna wasn’t a likable person. She wasn’t outgoing or friendly. When she spoke, it was almost always a complaint or catty remark. She was superficial and crass
But she was also attractive. She wasn’t a model, but pretty enough to get by with a bad attitude.
Her face was heart-shaped. She had big brown eyes and flawless skin. Her auburn hair was thick and always styled to draw attention. She was short and fit with the type of curves that men notice. She wore a lot of tight sweaters and on casual Friday she’d stuff her big ass into skin-tight jeans.
I didn’t enjoy her company. The feeling was mutual, but we usually ended up at the same happy hours. Sometimes we’d get into arguments. But at work, we were usually cordial.
Personality aside, I was drawn to her like a magnet. I’d stare at her in meetings. I loved to watch her wiggle her ass when she walked down the hall.
I daydreamed about fucking her, just wondering what it would be like to stare into those big eyes. Her wild hair and wardrobe made me wonder if she was fiery in bed.
But you can’t hit on a woman you loathe. We weren’t compatible. We wouldn’t fall in love. You can’t hatefuck a coworker.
Or so I thought.
It was December and budgets were being finalized. Finance was working late to compile the data into a master budget. As their administrator, Deanna’s role was to college the data.
My numbers were overdue. I’d been distracted by a project and I’d put off budgeting to the last minute. The site controller had been on my ass. It was no surprise when he sent his emissary to check on me.
“Just checking to see if you’re finished,” Deanna said after knocking on my door.
She looked good. She was wearing faded jeans and a white buttondown that hugged her curves. Her auburn hair was pinned up in a messy bun.
“Not even close,” I answered.
“You know everything was due last week,” she said in her deep southern accent. “You’re making everyone work late.”
“Sorry,” I snapped. “I was busy with actual work. I didn’t have time for bean counters. If you guys supported us more we’d get things done faster around here.”
She stomped over to my desk.
“I’m not a fucking bean counter,” she said. “I’m a messenger. Don’t take that tone with me.”
I stood up and put my hands on the desk. My face was inches from hers.
“If you don't want people to use a tone with you, then don’t act like a cop with a bad attitude. If you want me to finish soon then I suggest you walk your ass back out the door and leave me alone.”
Her eyes blazed. Her breasts heaved as she tried to avoid an outburst. Her shirt collar was opened just enough to offer a glimpse of her cleavage. She caught me staring and lost control. She cocked back her hand and slapped my cheek.