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Bossing the Virgin

By:Lila Younger

Bossing the Virgin_ A Steamy Office Romance - Lila Younger

Mikayla


It’s just another interview, I repeat to myself as I turn off the car. No big deal.

Only it is. A big deal that is. That’s why I’ve shown up almost twenty minutes early to it. I didn’t want an accident on the road or something else to make me late to it. I’ve done my fair share of interviews, ever since my first job at sixteen, but this job was different. This job could really help me make a name for myself. I couldn’t even believe it when I got the call telling me they were interested in interviewing me. The only reason I even heard about it was because an old family friend mentioned it and passed my resume along, but I assumed I would just get the generic ‘thank you for applying’ email followed by radio silence. Instead, two days later, I got the call to come in to Red Canyon Steakhouse’s headquarters for an interview.

My phone beeps and I pull it out of my purse. I turn it to silent and open up my text messages.

I’m not going to tell you good luck, because I know you don’t need it. I’ve already stocked up on chocolate and wine to celebrate :)

Thanks, I type back. I’ll let you know when I’m done.

I smile. Violet and I have been best friends since we sat beside each other on the bus to school. She’s the one who encouraged me to apply to culinary school, even though it seemed like a silly idea at the time. My parents took much longer to convince, even though I do almost all the cooking at home. If I could land this job though, I know that they will finally start to believe in me.

Red Canyon Steakhouse is an institution in these parts with many locations here and throughout the surrounding states. Growing up, it was the fancy restaurant that we would go to for birthdays, or when relatives visited, that sort of thing. They had these fancy leather booths and tablecloths and more spoons and forks than necessary. The waiters and waitresses were dressed smartly, and they knew how to recite all the fancy words on the menu. That sort of a place. Even though we haven’t been there in a while, it still stands tall in my memory. So to have a chance to become a chef for them, well, that’s just amazing.

I go over my answers to the common interview questions a few more times, then I open up my phone and click onto the job posting that I was told to apply at. I’m at bit short on the experience front, but the ‘driven and creative chef’ part describes me to a T. I’ve always known that becoming a chef wouldn’t be easy, but I’ve done it all on my own. That’s surely got to count for something. The idea that I’d be able to set my own menu, that I’d be able to make up new dishes for Red Canyon Steakhouse... all of that has my fingers itching. I check the clock again. Ten minutes. That’s close enough I think.

Pulling down the visor, I check the mirror one last time. I’m not big on the makeup and girliness front. It just doesn’t make sense in a hot kitchen. Most of the time, I just brush my hair back into a tight bun and call it good. Big hazel eyes stare back at me, framed by long lashes. Violet’s always declared that I’m lucky to never need mascara, but I figure it couldn’t hurt to put on a little for the interview. Satisfied that I don’t have any smudges, I push the visor back up, grab my purse, and head out of the car. The heels I’m wearing are just a little too high, or maybe I am nervous despite everything.

The secretary at the desk shows me to Mr. Leary’s office as soon as she hears my name, which sends the butterflies in my stomach fluttering. I didn’t expect to be seeing the owner of Red Canyon Steakhouse today, that’s for sure. The office is large and resembles an old English study. Two bookshelves flank a massive oak desk, filled with clothbound books, busts of famous people, and even a globe. Directly behind the desk hang plaques for various awards given to Red Canyon Steakhouse. The secretary announces me and closes the door.

“Welcome,” Mr. Leary says. “Have a seat Mikayla. You can call me Logan.”

Logan Leary is young, a lot younger than I expected. He’s only in his early thirties I think, and looks absolutely scrumptious in the black suit he’s wearing. He’s got definition that even his jacket can’t hide. Almost exactly like what I’d imagine if I was into the whole fuck your boss fantasy. Which I’m not. Probably shouldn’t be gawking over a guy who could be your boss soon, I chide myself, especially when I’ve always been told my face is an open book. For a fleeting moment, I almost wish I wouldn’t get the job, but squash the thought immediately. I want this. I need this. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of. I draw myself up, square my shoulders and hold out my hand for a firm handshake. His hand is warm and strong, and I almost don’t want to let go.

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