Darion's Office 1

Darion Williams was frustrated. 

Which, admittedly, was not an unfamiliar feeling in his life. One didn’t climb out of the ghetto, not with the speed he had experienced, without feeling frustrated by the hand dealt to him by life. 

But, in the place he grew, with his color, there were only two ways of getting out and making something of himself. Sports was one, but Darion lacked that. 

So, he chose the second one, climbing through the ranks aggressively — even if it resulted in an occasional prison visit due to some necessary violence he needed to apply. Luckily, they were able to conceal that as a personal fight rather than organized crime, which meant that, even as the prosecutor did her best, they were only able to give little more than a year. 

He was even able to make the judge ignore his prior, which was only right as he had been sixteen when he was caught stealing a car — but the racist judge was facing reelection that year, and decided to show just how tough she was against the crime by judging him as an adult. 

And, six months later, he was out with prohibition, in an office building under construction, trying to get a janitor job to fulfill the terms of his parole. 

Technically, he could have reached the gang to arrange one, but Darion knew that it was not the smartest idea. Owing more to the gang, even to solve the problems that had been created while working for them, was not a good idea. 

At least, if one had the ambition to climb and become something more than just a street thug. 

Not to mention, maintaining contact with the gang during the prohibition was the stupidest thing he could do. Conspiring with known felons was a parole violation, which would all that bitch persecutor would need to send him back to prison. 

All he needed to be caught in the same building with some more gang members. 

Luckily, he was smart enough to squirrel quite a bit of his earnings to the side, and laundered it through a little coffee shop he opened, freeing himself from the obligation of asking the gang for the money. 

He was even able to bribe a recruiter to arrange a job for him, which was the reason for his current frustration, as he stood in a half-completed office building, about to be interviewed for a janitor position.

He was sure he would get the job, because a part of the bribe that went to the recruiter — alongside a useful threat — made sure that the recruiter didn’t send any profile that would be actually useful for the last two weeks, making them desperate for a janitor. 

The half-set-up state of the current floor further highlighted their need. 

Technically, he didn’t need to have menial work to fulfill the need, but it would be a more convincing parole story for him. 

Yet, that didn’t prevent his frustration even as he heard the distinctive click of heeled shoes. 

His interviewer was about to arrive, he realized, but deliberately left his back toward that, until he heard the voice. “Are you Darion?” a voice asked. Darion smirked as the voice hit his ear, a vision immediately appearing in his mind. 

It was a young voice, yet it radiated a dismissal, which was enough to confirm Darion that she was a beautiful young woman, the kind that developed that confidence by the number of idiot simps that threw themselves to her feet just to earn a smile. 

Yet, her accent confirmed that she certainly didn’t grow up rich. It wasn’t a domineering accent, but it was enough to confirm she went to one of the poorer public schools. 

Of course, her dismissing confidence fully confirmed that she was white. 

He turned, fully expecting to see another platinum-blonde white secretary, only to realize he had been mistaken. 

She was a redhead. 

A very sexy one.

“Finally,” she said even as she threw a dismissive glance toward him, one that radiated supreme confidence about her position in life. After all, she was a secretary, while Darion was a poor little black man who had no choice but to work as a janitor. 

Darion smiled in anticipation even as his gaze danced up and down, but he managed to conceal it with a shake of his head. 

Not because he was afraid of being caught leering, but because he wanted to bruise her ego. 

The way she dressed, her short skirt, and her jacket left in doubt whether she was wearing anything underneath in the first place were highly inappropriate for the workplace, even for a marketing agency with a looser approach to workplace rules. It shouted she was supremely invested in the way she looked. 

 And, the easiest way to tease such a woman was to act like her beauty didn’t work as intended. 

A lesson Darion learned by interacting with the white rich girls that hang around the gang just for the thrill — well, the thrill and the drugs. The less impressed Darion acted with their beauty, the more they worked to prove their ‘beauty’. 

With some incredible fun potential. 

Of course, Darion wasn’t silly enough to assume the nameless secretary would act exactly like those thrill-seeking women, as the whole power structure around the situation was different, and he was a poor janitor trying to apply for a job rather than a dangerous gangster. 

Still, baby steps he thought even as he opened his mouth. “You’re here for the interview?” Darion asked. 

“What gave you that impression,” she answered bitingly, showing Darion’s little dismissal was just enough to unsettle her. 

“Lead the way, then,” Darion said with a shrug. 

She turned with a huff, though Darion noted her turn was faster than necessary, enough to throw her skirt into motion and give him a glimpse of her underwear. 

A rather impressive sexy piece. 

Too bad for her Darion was quick enough to hide his glance, as she failed to find him gaping as she wished when she threw a glance behind her. “Follow me to the meeting room,” she said as she walked in front of him. 

Her hips swayed excessively. 

He just smirked as he followed her inside, struggling to suppress a smile as he realized his prohibition wouldn’t be as boring as he had first thought. 

“Lead the way,” he said, even though she brought him to a meeting room just a few steps away from what he had been waiting for. 

She sat in front of him, her pose challenging yet revealing, doing her best to highlight her beauty. Darion wasn’t surprised by her attitude… It was exactly how he expected her to react.

Her tone was contrasting. “Tell me, why do you want to be a … janitor,” she said, her dismissal in her last words rather excessive. She was clearly trying to retaliate against his lack of simping. 

He shrugged, letting his smirk widen. Considering he was doing it just to avoid legal attention for a few months, it wasn’t the cutting remark she thought it was. 

“Well, there’s not much work for someone in my status,” he said, enjoying the wave of unease that passed through her at the mention of my felon status, which was hard to hide. “A fight that went out of control, and my job prospects are ruined,” he added, explaining his status a bit more. 

He wanted to just unsettle her, after all, not make her panic enough to reject her even with the lack of janitorial staff they were suffering. 

The uneasy expression of a smug white bitch was always satisfactory. 

“Good to know, and I don’t need to tell you that we don’t condone anything like that here!” she said sharply. 

“Of course,” Darion answered, letting his smirk widen. “I learned my lesson and I’m ready to be a productive member of society. 

“I see,” she murmured, her distaste growing at Darion’s dismissive tone. He had no doubt that, if he hadn’t been blocking the other candidates, she would have already sent him away. 

Not that he put too much effort into that, considering they were giving minimum wage for a job that required a lot of physical effort. Not exactly a line begging in the first place. 

“So, what’s your work, sweetie? You must be a receptionist or something considering you’re saddled with the responsibility of the first interview. Maybe we shouldn’t waste too much time. Just let me meet with someone allowed to make decisions.” 

Darion enjoyed her growing frustration with each word, her fury growing as his words it. 

“I’m not the receptionist. I’m the private secretary of the owner, and I’m the one that would decide whether you’re hired or not. Push your luck, and you won’t be hired.” 

Darion shrugged dismissively, showing her flare of anger was not worked on him at all. It was much easier to push someone after knowing she had no choice but to hire him. 

“Then, make your choice sweetie,” Darion said as he stood up. “I don’t have all day to kill. Yes, or no?” 

He didn’t even wait as he started walking toward the door, enjoying the angry gasp that she let out. “Stop, you can’t go anywhere before I allow you.” 

“That only works if I’m hired, sweetie. Should I assume that I’m hired?” 

That hardly helped her anger, but her answer reached soon after. “Yes,” she growled in anger. “You’re hired.”

His smile grew as he departed, aware he had just left his new coworker fuming in anger.