I watched, transfixed as he moved around the desk. His beyond tight white button down shirt was tucked neatly into his black dress pants. The shiny leather belt he wore had to be for show because the clothes fit him so well it was as if they had been perfectly handcrafted for him. I was sure they had been hand stitched on him this morning. I have never seen an item of clothing fit someone so perfectly.
Once he reached the other side of his desk, he placed his hands cautiously behind him as he leant back a little, so it appeared he was sitting on the edge of the table. He was so casual about it all. I was left wondering how because I felt like I was going to burst. He settled carefully on the desk and began rolling his sleeves methodically to the creases of his elbows. The silence swallow
