Confounded: Part I - 2. Chapter 2

Something landed on my shoulder while I was scrutinizing the info on my screen and I glanced to my left for a moment, frowning; what the hell was that?

Blue/grey. Then it clicked in my mind; a tie. Then a shadow crept over and past me and a second later, a strong, chiseled jaw appeared in my vision, coming so close I unwittingly drew back into my chair, rolling it to the right.

"Hey, dude; privacy?"

As a CSE I did the same with the employees, but I never actually realized how invasive that actually could be.

"What are you doing? Are these work related activities, or are you browsing aimlessly once again?"
The owner of the deep, humor-filled, whispering hoarse voice was Mitchell Gilmore, CEO of BSL Communications.

"Checking users for their internet-behavior," I answered, a bit intimidated by his nearness.

He made me nervous, lately. I worked here for two years now, but for the past few weeks he'd developed an interest in my work, for some reason. And he also seemed to find some demonic pleasure in creeping up on me like this. Jerk.

What was he doing still here, anyway? It was after 7pm and I was perusing internet logs, checking for inappropriate surfing behavior; inappropriate as in porn sites, illegal download sites for movies, music, games and whatnot.

Why didn't he go home to the missus and that undoubtedly spoiled brat of a son of his? At least, according to my colleagues, he had a son. And he wore a wedding band, so the hoe was probably already waiting for him
in their shag-room.

"Can I help you with something?" I asked.

He glanced sideways with those slate-grey eyes of his. At the moment, there was a curious look in them, but for some reason, I got the weird thought that they could become stormy if he was angered enough. So I lessened the attitude a bit, and sank deeper into my chair.

"I just noticed the lights still on in here; I was on my way out, and I thought you guys had left them on again. You know what happened, the last time..."

Asshole! Again? Once, only once, it had happened. True, it had been my fault; it happened on a Friday, due to my head being somewhere completely different, namely prepping for a hot date with a hot guy, met on the internet.

The lights would have stayed on for the entire weekend if big boss hadn't driven by on a Sunday night, noticing the lights, and thought there was a break-in. A blush of embarrassment hotly crept onto my cheeks thinking about it. But he grinned and winked.

That was the damn problem with him; he was an asshole, yes, but a damn attractive one. Well, that's in the eye of the beholder, isn't it? This beholder thought he was; I couldn't deny that he was attractive.

He towered a full head above me, had a broad chest, broad shoulders, lean hips, light-brown playful hairdo, and, as said, slate-grey eyes. His nose was just a tiny bit too big, and his jaws were strong and chiseled, which made his cheeks look hollow. His Adam's Apple hung low and when he swallowed, it bobbed up and down; M-mmm! Gimme a pound of him, you know what I mean? Shallow, I know but hey; what the eyes like, right?

He usually dressed in a three-piece suit, today not being an exception, and if you asked me, he was a Shirt-and-Spencer guy at home. Old money brat and all that. Probably never even seen a pair of jeans much less own them. Then again; a guy in a suit got a few points extra; a little fetish of mine.

Mitchell was still looking at me and frowned his brow a little; his glance changed from curious to studied and questioning.

"Nope, just lil' old me," I answered quickly, getting a little nervous. "We had a server crash today because someone was downloading heavily. De mail server bottomed out."
Almost immediately, his eyes went, tada; stormy. Uh-oh, not good.

"Who?" Came the curtly asked question through clenched teeth.

"That's what I'm trying to find out," I replied shortly, "so...if you don't mind? Sir?"

"Sir? Please, I'm not that old. You're what, 31, 30? "

"32."

"I'm 36."

I had guessed him a little older but he was the boss; he had to act responsible and pedantic at times. He had this sardonic thing going on around his mouth, of which the bottom lip was nice and full while the upper was thin. Nice, shapely...Sharp. I shuddered involuntarily. I thought it to be very attractive, that severe and yet sensual smirk.

"Could've fooled me," I said, without thinking.
I quickly turned my eyes to the screen when his eyes lit up a bit.

"Thank you."
I lashed out, angry with myself.

"I thought you were a lot older."

Why didn't he just leave? It was Friday; go fuck off to the wife, kid and dog.

"Tsk...now that wasn't very nice."
He snickered.

"I'm not a very nice person," I snapped.

"Geez, aren't we catty today. That time of the month, huh?"
Neanderthal.

"No, I've just had it for the day, and now you..."

"Watch it," he said, slowly, warningly.
I piped down a bit.

"...decide to get on my case. I wanna go home, I'm hungry...the ice is thin. This log is huge. So would you please, sir..."

"Don't call me that..."

"...be so kind as to not disturb me, so I can finish up? I promise I'll kill the lights when I leave."

For about two seconds, I thought he would actually go. Then he grinned somewhat triumphantly, the reason of which escaped me entirely; then got down on his hunches beside me, laying his arms on my desk for support, and nodded at the screen.

"I'll help you; two pair of eyes see more than one."

"Mr. Gilm..."

"Mitchell. That's the last time I'm telling you. Mr. Gilmore is my dad. I told you half a year ago to call me Mitchell."

"Whatever; your ‘help' is appreciated but unnecessary. I'm sure you can think of more fun things to..."

"Oh, absolutely," he cut in, grinning.

"Would you let me finish!"
I began to get angry. CEO or not; if people start irritating me, I don't really care who they are, I just react.

"When something coherent comes flying from somewhere in there, I'll consider it," he promptly answered, deadpan. Bah! "What are we looking for?"

"We are not looking for anything. I can do this quicker by myself."

"My, don't get so excited, will you? Just accept help when it's offered. So? What are we looking for?"

I sighed exasperated but he remained where he was, kneeled beside me. He was almost as tall kneeling as I was sitting down. I'm only 5'6 but next to him, everybody seemed tiny.

"Download sites like Bittorrent, programs like Limewire and words like sex, porn, lesbian, gay, and variations on those."
I felt myself blushing, but he was already busily peering at the screen.

After about ten minutes he actually found one, while I'd already found a dozen or so, all from the same user. The rest of the log didn't take that long after that, and once it was done, I took the IP-number and matched it to the name of an employee. It turned out to be a manager named Ralph Smith.

"He's fired," Mitchell mumbled under his breath, shaking his head.

"We always give an official warning, first," I remarked, "then, if they do it again, we go to the department head to deal with it."
Mitchell frowned at that.

"Why haven't I been told about this? This is the first time I'm hearing about it."
I nodded.

"Correct. The warnings usually do the trick."

"That's very nice and all, but now I really want to know who else has been warned in the past. How many, since you started working here?"

"No idea," I lied.

I knew full well who those colleagues were, but I wasn't about to snitch on them. They behaved themselves now, and I even drank a beer with them, socially, running into them during weekends.

Mitchell glared at me; I guess he saw through my little lie.

"Speak."

"Mr. Gil..."

"For the last time; Mitchell. And you’re gonna give me those names."

"No. I won't. They haven't done it again since..."

"You just told me you didn't know who they were. Now you do, so you're protecting them. That's admirable but also stupid. It can cost you your job."

He added that last somewhat threateningly and I stared at him, startled.