The working day began as usual, already stretching rubber minutes in long hours. Artyom looked through the glass, covered with a thousand raindrops, as a faceless gray-shiny building attracted people dressed mostly in the dark. Most of them were hiding from the rain that had begun yesterday with an umbrella of inconspicuous colors, again most often black. Artyom looked at these umbrellas, under some of them several candidates for the role of his deputy are hiding. After the opening of two new branches, it became twice as much work, which caused such a need, although earlier Artyom was both nicer and safer to do many things himself, but now it was necessary to find just an intelligent person who is able to think as little as possible and standardly. In the ads it was stated that the experience does not really matter, so now he was waiting for not the most talented people. But it is worth going through this, otherwise he will choke in these pieces of paper.

The day is almost over. Before the eyes stood a kaleidoscope of Kunstkamera's exhibits, it turned out that too often very mundane personalities think of themselves as almost geniuses. A couple of candidates turned out to be very personal. Hipster-geek Pasha, erudite to the limit, but just as different from ordinary people in character and appearance. Well, its exact opposite is a slim girl Olga, with a rather ordinary gray appearance, fire in her eyes and MBA with her shoulders. Strangely enough, both of them were in the queue for an interview almost the last and thus brightened the picture of the whole day, abounding with pearls "experienced PC user" and "focus on results." Artyom came down from the twentieth first floor up the empty stairs, taking the opportunity to warm up and think about his own, since all the staff preferred the elevator to the stairs. Stepping slowly up the stairs, he lit a cigarette, glancing through the dark glass at the city that had already lit its lights. Somebody heard footsteps in the passage, which surprised him a lot, rarely anyone even went on this staircase to smoke. Artyom sped up, trying to catch up with this unknown, curiosity got the better of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed brown hair pulled into a ponytail, a black jacket. It could be anyone, only on his floor probably worked with a dozen of these. Having descended to the floor, he now noticed the face that had recently been observed in his office, that same Olga.

- Olga, please wait for me! - shouted in the passage Artem.

She stopped and in a few awkward seconds he caught up with her standing on the landing of the 12th floor. Apparently he scared her a little, stopping her like this. In thin fingers with a minimalist manicure, a cigarette flashed, and the usual, rather than the usual toothpick for the ladies.

- You did not say that you smoke.

- And you did not ask, Artem Dmitrievich, - she smiled at him.

- Yes, probably, too many interviews per day. And if you want - call Artem, my name is patronymic only police officers and a cleaner, especially if we work with you.

- And will we? - she smiled again. He just now noticed her lips, or without lipstick, or the trowels underlined by this very lipstick. "Funny" - he said to himself.

- You are with the Barmaley that was before you - the main candidates. Although I probably said nothing, sorry, I'm not used to these formalities when applying for a job.

- Nice to hear. Can I smoke here?

“To your health,” he chuckled, and immediately cursed himself for a silly pun.

- I just got confused in your corridors and got on this staircase, it was scary when you caught up with me.

- Sorry, it was curious who is walking here besides me. Mostly office sloths squeeze into the elevator.

They slowly went downstairs, an awkward silence hung in the air filled with dampness from the open windows, tobacco smoke and a little of her perfume, because Artem decided to take a moment and just skip it forward on a narrow enough ladder for two, in order to look back now, not like in the office face to face. Black pants fit her slender legs with round knees and a small and toned ass tightly enough (I wonder what's under these pants?), Small feet without corns are shod in black lacquered sandals with medium heels, fiercely banging on the gray concrete steps.

In the parking lot, sitting in the car, Artyom pulled out another cigarette, cursing himself for his behavior with Olga, for the dull joke and the ensuing silence. The rain pounded on the roof of the car again, the wipers slipped on the glass, turning the surrounding objects from vaguely blurred to clear. “You are like 15 years old, my friend,” he thought, shaking himself. “The most ordinary girl, that you so rasperezhivalsya? Remember Vika, who should be afraid and shy. ”

At home, a good glass of cognac decided many questions and helped to fall asleep.

About a week passed, Artyom consulted with his acquaintance and decided to hire Pasha, it would be calmer, Olga didn’t come out of her head with her smile, the work went really bad. But this is the most Pasha stopped responding to calls for an unknown reason. Artyom looked at the diary, scribbled up and down on today's page ... And he decided to call Olga, somehow he would deal with himself.

- Olga, we made a decision, will you approach us when you can proceed?

- We are Artem First? Sorry, could not resist. Yes, even tomorrow, how much?

- I come at seven, everyone comes to eight, I think it would be best to be somewhere in half.

- Agreed, Artem.

Here, now, his manager, who makes many subordinates intimidate, is irritated by some kind of gray mouse, even a little impudent, in his opinion, but it was precisely those qualities necessary for the proposed position that were felt in it.

Another week went by and Artem realized that he was not mistaken, he chose her. Dressed not so formally, the Pigalitsa showed simply remarkable abilities, she was precisely the deputy, not the secretary, she took the initiative and was not afraid to point out failures. But now Artyom has lost almost all sleep because of the turtlenecks, emphasizing her small chest, because of the sharpened neck, bent over the documents in the next room, separated from his own only by a glass partition. Because of his light legs, shod in light sneakers, walking silently on the brown carpet (Artyom even thought to introduce a classic dress code, but he doubted whether it would help his thoughts). And from the spirits, sometimes concerning his sense of smell, in which he surprisingly recognized one of his men's fragrances, with hints of tobacco ... And most importantly, she had a habit of staying at the office a little longer from the first day of work, showing meritorious performance. Artyom largely considered this to be his prerogative, two different people fought in him, a leader approving such behavior, and an 18-year-old boy who was afraid of some strange and unexplored feelings and desires for him. Artyom was not an ascetic or a hypocrite, but he still considered any official flirting to be unacceptable, too much of this was replicated and quite gone.

The sun was already setting behind a bit of dusty panoramic windows; this evening, once again, he was left alone with Olga, behind the glass on his left hand. “We must at least talk to her not only about work,” he thought, and got out of his chair, stalked from the office to the next. (Especially for eroticspace.info — sexitails.org) Carpet gently jammed his steps, so he knocked before entering the same glass door without any locks, so as not to frighten the new owner of this space. She looked out from behind a computer monitor and smiled at him. “Damn, those lips again” - a tired thought flashed in the tired head.

- Are you lingering again?

“Like you, Artyom, this seems to be good for the cause,” she said, throwing back the chair to the maximum.

- Give yourself a break, and then there will be no benefit.

“As you say, Artyom I,” Olga laughed, thin fingers with beige nails pulled a cigarette out ...