The Panic
This year, Connor was laying low. He was not part of all the commotions and festivities. Thankfully, he had enough legitimate work to keep him busy and away from the date selection antics. He was going to hold his word to himself and not try to woo Betsy over. No one knew that he had intentionally kept work on his plate to be busy, but that was his private personal business.
Betsy had on a sweet sweater dress. The kind that could pass for creme color, but wasn’t. To Connor, it was the color an angel would wear when visiting the office. Having the look of cashmere and closely knit in finish, it was a mid thigh length fabric of goddesses. It’s creme radiance was paired with the most amazing black tights he’d seen in a long time. Not too opaque but not too sheer either. Just enough for people to see how amazing her legs were.
Unlike others in the office who tested the limits of plunging necklines, this was an exquisite version of a turtle neck with a slouch in the front leaving enough skin to show her beautiful collar bones and covering up the rest. It had the look of a smooth racing suit fit for the red carpet. The booties were practical and chic. Just tall enough to say there was a heel on them yet low enough so Betsy could walk about freely all day.
Connor steadied his imagination and forced himself to not look at Betsy whenever she got up to go to the printer. In his head, he swore there was a hint of sheerness to the dress similar to the hint of sheerness in the tights. Reigning in his thoughts, he pushed them out. There was not going to be another episode of fantasy to distract him.
Her beauty was just…
Connor opened another tab to research some obscure code to keep his mind away from the sweet smooth cashmere sexiness of Betsy’s sweater dress. He felt stupid for wishing that at the copier, she’d just lean over once… bad bad bad Connor! that girl don’t know you like that and doesn’t feel you like that… stop being stupid
Unlike others who had to constantly tug at their outfits to keep coverage, Betsy never had to. The outfit stayed perfectly set. Never bunching, never revealing too much, yet urging the viewer to feel warm holiday cheer and the privilege to see greatness.
This year, things were different. The way that brute pushed up on his Betsy, Connor was sure would spell the end of his chances.
Wait.
What chances?
His stupid mind kept thinking there was hope that this perfect specimen of woman’s sensuality even was capable of being attracted to him.
He was not going to ask! He couldn’t have all that sensual goodness that moved like a gazelle, tugging at his hunger and thirst. He was not going to ask… yet couldn’t stand the thought that another pair of hands were going to remove that cashmere form fitted creme colored dress of angels.
Nope. Betsy had her chance. It was time for him to pick up his ego and look the other way.
Wait… hold on.
Wait!
WAIT!
Was that the brute carrying a ton of flowers over to Betsy’s desk?
NO! NO! NO!!
WAIT!!!!
Love's Perspective 
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