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It was the very secretary I had gone to war with decades ago. The very one who had staple gunned me. Needless to say, we had an aggravatingly specific bond.
A look of disbelief shattered her. A look which didn’t match the perfectly rolled sleeves of her white collar shirt, or the devastatingly attractive slit up the side of her pencil skirt. No, she blinked through her thick-rimmed glasses, as if the very request urged her to slap some sense into me.