Executive

…20

"What the hell should I wear?"

Pacing the room in her underwear and stepping on scattered clothes discarded on the floor, Alex had trouble reaching a decision. She also had trouble keeping calm. She stopped her pacing in front of the mirrored closet door and admired herself, slowly turning around. The dark lingerie, making her sun-tanned skin appear luminescent, complemented her tall, slim figure. Her lean muscles, maintained by daily exercise and swimming, were not showing any visible sign of her sedentary activity in front of a computer screen. She was working hard to compensate for all the hours spent sitting at her desk, and she would have normally felt quite happy with the image reflected in the mirror, but today that image was causing her unrest. She went back to the closet, ready to attempt another search for the perfect outfit.

"Too sexy, too short, too colorful, too cheap." One by one, she pushed the disqualified clothes hangers to the left, focusing on the next in line, with her patience running short, and her voice rising in anger. Damn it to hell. And back. A hanger supporting the fine shoulder straps of a generously revealing black dress hit the floor. She sat down on the bed, head in her hands, thinking.

The dinner invitation at her boss's home had thrown her off, making her not sure what to believe. Was this a test? If so, what kind of test? She was afraid Tom would make a pass at her, to test her most likely, because he did not seem to be the type to romance his employees. He was too courteous, too reserved and professional at all times. Still, an invitation to his home could prove to be a tricky situation to handle.

She wanted her attire to make a statement of self-assurance, of casual confidence, but also to discourage any possible advances. She did not want to wear her designer business suit because she feared it would seem like she was desperate to make a good impression. She was desperate to make a good impression, but she was trying to hide it just as desperately.

Furthermore, the dinner invitation sounded casual, not formal, and she wanted her attire to demonstrate that she was able to dress appropriately for such an occasion. Well, she did have another reason for not wearing her formal business suit. That was because she only had that one, and she had worn it at her job interview. Tom would obviously remember. Damn.

With a resigned sigh, she picked out a pair of worn-out jeans, a gray T-shirt, and a charcoal turtleneck sweater. The sweater was at least three sizes too large for her. Too damn hot for sweaters, but I will be able to endure. She looked up at the clock on the wall. I will also be late. She picked up her keys and wallet, and stormed out the door. Twenty seconds later, she stormed back in, picked up the bottle of wine she had bought for Tom, and ran out again, slamming the door behind her.