My boss has a dog living in the basement where the furnace burns red and hot. My boss is a beautiful man with big, brown eyes and clever hands. He is tall, thin and athletic - a runner. He wears a suit and tie to work, but he has scars where his piercings used to be and he still wears a beard. When he smiles it is like a cut to his face. It is the smile of a brilliant, politically incorrect joke.
My boss has me bring my reports, and he finishes his calls while he drinks his coffee. He likes the coffee black and he drinks it slowly. My boss is like any good businessman : he changes with the times. Now he has a computer system and an international payroll and a building downtown with windows like blue mirrors stretching to the sky. My boss has come a long way from caves.
My boss offends easily, and he can be particular. He likes me on the desk, hands trapped, skirt hitched. He knows I am temptation, and he knows first-hand where that leads, but I think he’s come to terms. After all, even he is just a man.