Betrayed Chapter 6

If her overfull hips, tush and thighs (at least, the female Anglo staffers described them as such) swiveled a bit too much to be considered good office decorum, again, no one in our wing was complaining.

Employee Relations periodically made noises, circulating memos concerning "appropriate business attire and personal grooming" – no doubt egged on by unnamed catty co-workers. Nothing had ever come of it and nothing ever would on our watch. All six senior traders – with myself in the lead – had sent a memo to Management, threatening to walk out en masse if any action was taken against her without cause. Money talks louder than petty jealousy in our world and the noises stopped. We kept a close watch on Angie's performance reviews to ensure no 'cause' was ever manufactured. Call it pandering, chauvinism, or whatever you like; we protect our own, and we considered Angie one of us. How she dressed, what she did on her own time, and who she did it with was nobody's business but hers, as long as the work got done.

Although Angie flirted with all the men she worked for, she had always flirted with me most of all. I had always, in Bill Clinton's words, "lusted for her in my heart" and flirted back. What man wouldn't? In my devotion to Susan, I had always kept it at just that. When my rumored marital crisis had become fodder around the water cooler the previous week, Angie had taken it upon herself to distract me from my problems as best she could. Our secretary had been especially friendly and solicitous of me – and seemed determined to push the edge of the dress code 'envelope' to the breaking point. Her 'distraction' made me wonder if she might have more than business continuity in mind.

"Busy weekend, Boss?" Angie chirped.

It was impossible for my spirits not to lift in the presence of that engaging, infectious smile. The heart-stopping tease was dressed in a tight white suit whose skirt ended just below her knee.