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Anthony awoke to a piercing buzzing tune, a nice enough melody, but one he had come to despise shortly after he had made the mistake of making it his alarm. The culprit, his smart phone, was plugged in on the nightstand beside him and was in the process of making him gleefully aware that it was a new day, another twenty-four hour period not dissimilar to the last one. A routine work day.
He sighed and reached out with a weary, sleep-leaden arm, feeling across the surface of his nightstand until his fingers traced the cool smooth surface of his phone and, using the charging cable to identify which way the phone was facing, he swept right on the screen, silencing the alarm.
He let out a soft sigh and let the warmth of his mattress and quilts once more take him, as he always did for the glorious length of the snooze button, content and comfortable.
Five minutes later Anthony awoke to the piercing, buzzing tune of his alarm.
Muttering a curse under his breath, the same as always, he sighed and opened his eyes, squinting against the light that pushed through his curtains to illuminate his bedroom. This time, however, instead of setting his phone to snooze he sat up on his elbows, scooping up his phone and unplugging the charger, letting the cable lazily fall to the floor as he switched off the alarm and checked his notifications. A few social media prods and a selection of news stories dotted his screen and he swiped them away, not yet in the frame of mood to care about either.
He set the phone down and swung his legs out of bed, stretching his arms out and yawning as he stood and stepped forward into the coolness of his apartment, making his way, bare feet padding on the carpet, towards the bathroom.
He entered the tiled room and switched the light on, noting the neanderthal in the mirror who looked back at him, the figure slumped and tired, his face unshaven, his dark hair messy and unkempt, a pair of dark squinting eyes peering back, the hunched form wearing nothing but a pair of light grey boxer shorts.
Every morning he fought that image in the mirror, fighting to bring it under control, a routine battle with an inevitable outcome.
After utilising the facilities he shaved, nothing fancy since he’d long ago given up the time-consuming process of a wet razor shave and had instead forked out for an expensive electric razor that, he thought, did the job just as well.
He buzzed away the previous day’s growth, leaving his cheeks, jaw and neck smooth. He noted subconsciously that he was probably only a week away from needing a haircut to maintain his short professional style, but that was future Anthony’s problem.
After finishing his shave he was already starting to look better. He followed it up by brushing his teeth and while this made no advancement on his look, the cool mint on his taste buds helped to rouse him from the depths of sleep.
He gargled water and spat, washing his toothbrush and putting it aside, moving to his shower unit which he switched on, leaving it for a few moments to let the temperature settle before he stepped under the hot water.
He tilted his head back, letting the water pour down over his hair, smoothing it and letting it continue in steamy little rivulets down the skin of his fit body. Relaxing even as the sensations lured him for the vestiges of sleep.
After languishing in the pleasurable heat for a few long moments he lathered himself with soap and washed out his hair with shampoo, letting the hot stream of water wash the suds from his body before, a little regretfully, he switched the shower off, wiping the excess water from his skin before stepping from the unit onto a plush shower mat, feeling the soft warmth of it under his feet as he went about toweling himself off.
Dry, he caught sight of himself in the mirror, he loosely combed his fingertips through the short dark hair, parting it and settling it in his preferred fashion. He smiled to himself, breathing in to accentuate his figure, lean and athletic. He attended the gym occasionally, but he had to admit the primary cause for his figure was a godly metabolism for which he was eternally grateful.
After giving himself one last look over he was somewhat pleased to confirm that the bathroom was down one shambling neanderthal and up one productive member of society.
Despite being the only one in his apartment he modestly wrapped the towel around his waist, collecting his discarded boxers before he made his way back to his bedroom. He turned the radio on on his phone after checking the time and finding out, a pleasant surprise, that it was Friday and, with the damp towel still clinging to his body began to neatly layout his suit for the day; White boxers, black pants, black shoes, white shirt, black belt, red striped tie.
As he carefully laid out his clothes he listened contentedly to the pop song spilling from his phone, humming softly as he did so, he recognised the song and appreciated the catchy tune though he didn’t acıbadem escort sing along.
He finally set aside the towel as he started to dress, folding it over a radiator before pulling on his briefs and listening to the daily news bulletin. The news these days was predictable, always the same, always scandals, disasters, wars. It came to something, he thought, when the news was as routine as his life.
With his collar popped he settled the red tie around his neck and hesitated, looking down at himself and holding both ends of the tie around his neck out from him, inspecting it. After a moment, he put it back, retrieving instead a solid red tie.
After he was finished he gave himself one last look over in the mirror, looking for any creases or blemishes, any mistakes or missed buttons. Satisfied, he silenced his phone and slid it along with his wallet and keys in their assigned pockets and made his way out of his apartment into the cold brisk air of the world, beginning the daily commute.
The commute was longer than he would like, but not particularly arduous, the subways running at regular intervals and, thankfully, never so tightly packed that he was squished in next to other people. He also had the good fortune of passing by a coffee kiosk which made the mornings bearable. A man should never dispute the value of a kiosk which sells truly good coffee, in which, if he could, he partook more than once a day.
Anthony didn’t like to think he was addicted to the lure of coffee, he merely required it to function. Like air, and people weren’t addicted to that, he would often reason to himself internally.
He stepped into the foyer of his building and smiled politely to the receptionist who recognised him, returning the smile. He stepped to the elevators and during the ride up took the first sip of his freshly bought coffee, letting out a pleasant sigh.
Anthony worked in the wonderfully fascinating world of finance and while the work was challenging it was never particularly new or interesting. Despite that, he did the work and did it well. There was no dispute that he was a valuable member of the workforce and, it was generally believed, could’ve been a team leader or junior manager by now. However as opportunities and spots to move higher came and went, Anthony stayed where he was, never quite believing himself good enough to step up in the world, once more contented.
He stepped from the elevator on his floor and navigated the workspace towards his desk. He wasn’t the first in but was always one of them. The IT guy was already in, an older model, one who had been working with PC’s since way back before the internet who was working on a colleague’s machine which had probably been reported as broken the night before, likely fixing it before its user arrived that morning, a good guy by all accounts. So too, he noticed was Charlene, a curvy dark skinned woman in her late twenties or early thirties, an attractive woman with a simply incredible bust who has the misfortune of representing HR. There were four others of his team already in, the two newbies, John and Harry, both good men, Claire, a busty redhead who was so far out of his league that, despite working on the same team as him, he was sure she didn’t know he existed and Lucy, a raven haired short girl who dressed conservatively and socialised just as outwardly.
Anthony recalled he had asked her out once, but been turned down. He had been a little disappointed, Lucy was quite cute he thought, but apparently she had been above what he could realistically bat.
He sat down at his desk and set his coffee down, switching his PC on. He watched, with satisfaction as he logged in to his desktop and 8:59 rolled over to 9:00 on the dot. It was the small victories that made the day go all quicker.
The day proceeded in a typically unremarkable fashion, the rest of the office showed up, everyone got on with their work, people talked, an acceptable level of predictable banter and gossip was had. Anthony partook in it a little, but mainly he focused on his work.
He was a little surprised when Anne, his line manager came by his desk. While Anne made an effort to mingle with the team, periodically moving around to check on everyone, Anthony had noticed she did so to a set schedule, likely following prompts in her work calendar. As she approached him he glanced at the clock at the corner of his window. She wasn’t due to check on him for another hour and a half, just before the end of the day.
“Can I have a word with you in my office for a minute, Anthony?” she asked, voice friendly and gentle, though the words sent a pang of anxiety through him that catapulted his mind into overdrive. Had he made a mistake? Was he in trouble?
“Of course, now?” he asked, returning her smile, though it was a little forced.
“If you can, please.”
He glanced back at his desktop, mind rattling for some excuse as to why he would have to wait ten, or even just five minutes so atalar escort he could find out what he had done wrong and prepare some sort of action plan to fix it, but nothing immediately presented itself and he was, by all accounts, an honest man.
“Uh, sure.” he nodded, locking his desktop and moving to stand.
He glanced across the office, Anne’s actions not having passed unnoticed he caught Charlene’s eye. He raised his eyebrows at her, questioningly and merely got a shrug in response.
That was good news at least, if he was going to be fired Charlene would know.
He stepped into Anne’s office, entering behind her. It was small, but the privacy it offered made it comparatively luxurious. He politely shut the door behind him and, as she moved behind her desk, he himself made to sit, knowing if he didn’t she would tell him to anyway.
Anne was a married woman, in her late forties with, from how often she spoke of them, he assumed as many children, and she liked to think of herself as having a motherly presence in the office. She had shoulder length mousy brown hair that, gossip insisted, was dyed, though he didn’t much care. Their relationship had been purely professional over the four years since he had started here. They had talked and socialised at the infrequent out of work mandatory gatherings, but it had never progressed beyond that.
“Anthony, I want to talk to you about a bit of a sensitive subject…” she said as she sat, steepling her fingers.
Bad sign.
“Oh?” he said, trying to sound relaxed, though he had to resist the urge to squirm in his seat.
“I’ve been your manager since the day you joined us here and I’m happy to say you’ve been an exemplary member of the team…” she continued, causing him no amount of confusion. Bad news rarely followed the word exemplary, but he stayed silent, letting her go on, her voice tentative, as if testing the waters, “Staff have come and gone, my teams expanded, we’ve received praise, bonuses, all good news and a lot of it can be, in one way or another accredited to you.”
“…Thank you?” he said, uncertain as to where she was going with this.
Anne nodded, “I think it’s time you branched out.”
Anthony groaned inwardly, there was likely a new position coming up, one Anne wanted him to go for and was doing him the ‘favour’ of giving him a preemptive heads up.
“Anne, thank you I appreciate-…”
She held up a hand, an almost wry smirk touching her lips, “I appreciate the offer but I’m not interested in moving up just yet?” she said.
He hesitated, staying silent.
“Now you’re thinking, ‘if you knew I’d say that why call me in here.'”
He remained silent. He couldn’t fault her and she knew it.
“There isn’t a new position coming available, that’s not what I’m talking about.” she let out a long low sigh and leaned back in her chair, lowering her hand.
“You’re a good person, Anthony. A great worker, nice and kind, but you don’t have any drive, any ambition.” she said, bluntly.
He frowned a little, though again, he couldn’t and wouldn’t disagree with that, it was just never nice to be confronted with a personal fault.
“You need something in your life to give you that drive, something to work towards, a goal.”
“I’ve got a nice apartment, I’m building a nice pension, I’m happy.” He said, carefully.
“I don’t doubt any of that. You’ve built yourself a good life, but you need to live a little bit more.” she said, smiling softly.
Anthony eyed her, a little taken aback. It wasn’t like Anne, he thought, to take such an interest in his personal life, though he began to wonder if she always had and he just hadn’t noticed it.
“I’ll… Try harder?” he said dismissively, simply trying to placate her.
She opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated, picking her words carefully, “I’ve set you up on a date with someone who I think you will get on well with.” His expression must have said a thousand words because she was quick to add, “And I would consider it a personal favour if you would go ahead with it.”
He stared at her, mouth opening and closing a few times as he processed that, “…A date. With a woman.”
She raised her eyebrows, “Are… You not into…”
He blushed and sat up in his chair, “Oh I am! I am, I just-“
“It’s settled then. Eight pm, tonight at Quel Posto Italiano.” She beamed, leaning back in her chair as if the matter was resolved.
“That Italian place we went to?” he asked, knowing it. It was closer to where he lived than it was to the office, though not by much, his team had gone there the Christmas past for a meal.
She nodded and smiled. “You can tell me all about it on Monday.”
He opened his mouth to speak, to protest, but he stopped. This was a very personal matter, but one that, if he refused, could impact his working relationship with his manager, a precarious position.
“…I will, um… Thank you.” he said, a little dryly as he aydınlı escort stood and made his way from her office back to his desk.
He sat there for a few moments, staring at his screen before Charlene approached, apparently registering a pretty shadowed expression on his face. “Is everything okay?” she asked, clearly seeking gossip but doing so wearing the ‘concerned HR’ mask.
For a moment as he took a deep sigh he considered mentioning how he was essentially being blackmailed into a date, but he thought about it again. Anne, for all her faults, was well intentioned, trying to do him a favour and while it would cost him his evening in the company of whoever she thought was suited for him, he wasn’t going to be doing much with his time anyway.
“Everythings fine, just a little catch up over some work.” he said, sitting up a little straighter and adopting his smile.
Charlene pursed her lips and eyed him with suspicion, “Mm, alright glad everything’s okay.”
She slinked away and Anthony unlocked his PC. So much for a quiet Friday evening, he thought.
The rest of the day proceeded by the books, up to and including Anne’s ‘spontaneous’ check on how he was getting on, right on schedule he noted, and the day finally wound to a close.
Usually, he might have spent an extra hour or two at work, closing out projects so he wouldn’t worry about them over the weekend, but for the first time in a long time, he had a date he had to prepare for.
During his commute home, coffee in hand he tried to think about the sort of woman someone like Anne would try to set him up with, but he just didn’t know her well enough to begin piecing together a picture. Would she be older, one of Anne’s friends? Would she be family? A daughter or niece maybe? Would she be quiet and reserved like Lucy, or something completely different? He had no idea and before he knew it his thoughts had carried him home.
Finding himself with about an hour and a half to kill before he had to go out he spent some time picking out his outfit, the same smart casual outfit, he realised once he was done, he had probably worn the last time he had gone to Quel’s with work.
After he had done that he did the only other thing he could think of to do, he repeated his morning routine.
He shaved, washed, showered, dried and dressed, making himself as presentable as he could manage. He didn’t hold high hopes for the date, in fact, it was practically a write-off, but he didn’t see any reason not to at least show up looking his best.
Packing the essentials, phone, wallet and keys into their assigned pockets he once again left his apartment, opting to walk to try and keep his emerging anxieties in check as he made his way towards his blind date.
As he arrived he scanned the restaurant, not spotting any lone females he assumed, correctly, that he was here first. A waiter directed him to a table and he ordered a glass of water, checking his phone he noted that he was around five minutes early, so he tried to relax, though his gaze kept flickering towards the door.
Eight’o’clock came and went, so did five past, so did ten past. He was starting to feel his anxiety turn into embarrassment, unsure how to feel about being stood up on a blind date, unsure of what he could say to Anne on Monday.
“Your table,” the waiter said, extending a hand towards his own.
He looked up and froze, mouth half open.
Before him stood a woman, about his age and wearing a long sleeved deep red high neck blouse and knee length skirt, she struck an image that was in one instant both awe inspiring and inspiring of dread.
He immediately knew she was way of his league for a number of reasons.
First and foremost, she was just gorgeous. She had long red hair that she had, he assumed, used curlers on to give it a wavy effect, her green eyes were simply captivating and her body was so perfect as to be of mythical status. She was at the same time both slender and curvy, thin waisted but sporting a full bust, her legs long and her skin light and unblemished.
Second but of no less impact on his chances with her, he knew, was her name.
“Claire?” he said, though he was not so bereft of his wits in his surprise that he neglected to stand, stepping around the table to pull her chair out for her.
“Hey Anthony, I hope I’m not too late! Time got away from me.” she explained apologetically as she gratefully took her place, her eyes tracking him all the way as he made his way back to his own seat.
“Uh, no you’re not too late.” he said lamely as he practically stared at her, awkward in his surprise and uncertainty.
“Oh good! I was worried you’d already be gone.” She giggled a little, smiling warmly as she tucked a lock of hair behind one ear, “Work today was a nightmare wasn’t it?”
“Uh…”
“Oh you’re right, we shouldn’t talk about work.” She blushed and smiled, “You know when I asked Anne if you were single I never expected her to say yes, let alone help me set this up!”
He blinked, “You, you set this up?”
“Oooh, she told you it was a blind date, didn’t she? Well, only for you.”
He swallowed a little, unable to let his self-doubt get the better of him, “Why would you want to date me?”
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