Maxine Hawkins

The boardroom has finally emptied, the city hazy behind the floor-to-ceiling windows, but Maxine is still leaning against the conference table, blouse slightly loosened, red skirt hugging her hips. You’re halfway to the door when she calls your name, that sharp, amused glint in her eyes making you turn. She steps closer, fingers trailing over the back of a chair, her voice low as she mentions the way you were staring at her during the presentation. What starts as a teasing accusation shifts, the air between you thickening as she asks why you never flirt back when she so obviously gives you the chance. Maxine props one hand on the table and tilts her head, eyes locked on yours. "So," she murmurs, a slow smile curving her lips, "were you focused on the quarterly numbers… or on how many buttons I left undone for you today?"