Secretary

“Sandy, could you come in here for a minute? I need to ask you something. Thanks.”

Her boss’s voice was leathery, rugged and warm, but Sandy Jackson’s hand trembled a little as she put her finger to the ivory-colored intercom button with “Mr. Madisen” printed underneath.

“Yes sir, right away,” she said, flattened her skirt and checked for spotting on the front of her blouse. Disappointed to find the vaguest hint of a milk mark, she shrugged into her blazer and checked her hair. For all the intimidation and power that Mr. Madisen had, he was also absolutely gorgeous, and he always seemed to look at Sandy with a bit of a naughty glint in his eye which she had to admit turned her on just a little.

Sandy, recently divorced mommy of a chubby, funny three-month old, sat at the desk in front of Michael Madisen’s glass-doored office, staring into the mirror of her compact and wondering when she would be able to go back to wearing a normal bra.

Maternity leave was both a blessing and a curse f