The Taste of You and Me

I stared up at the building towering over me; grey stonework, two apartmets per floor, twenty floors, with a reception at ground level behind impeccably polished gleaming glass doors.
A formidable looking young woman draped in what i assume was a “pashmina of burnt sienna colouring” sashayed through the automated doors and off into the street.

For a moment, my imaginary courage failed me.

Gripping the straps of my rucksack and steeling myself silently, I arose from the bench and strided across the road – there was no point delaying this anymore: I might as well get it over and done with.

Pausing in front of hte glass doors, I pressed the bell button, then quickly smoothed the dress over my arse to avoid benchmarks on my bum. The receptionist let me in from the desk, and the door swung open, leading me to her.
Clearing my throat awkwardly, I spoke up.

“Excuse me,” I began, “I’m here to see apartment twenty-three?”

The clean-cut, red-haired receptionist looked up from her computer and smiled politely.

“Ah, yes. You must be Ms. Lee. Miss Leah Green has informed me you’d come to view the building.” She replied, rifling through her desk drawer
A ripple of excitement shot through me on hearing my almost-boss’ name; I was really doing this, finally about to start out new.

“This is the key to the apartment – if you wish to take the elevator, you’ll find Apartment twenty-three on the twelvth floor. Please, take your time and enjoy the beauty of the building.” She insisted,handing me a silver key and another smile.

Lets hope shitty hokum doesn’t fly out of her mouth everytime she opens it.

“Thanks.” I mumbled, taking the key and heading over to the elevator. Once behind the sliding silver doors, I pressed the twelvth button. Taking this apratment was the last step towards accepting this job – if there was nothing wrong with the apratment, then there was no reason to turn down the job.

And just imagine: Maya Lee, nowhere girl turned PA to the editor-in-chief of an alternative music magazine.

Que the heart palpitations and haters a-plenty.

Bells dinged and doors opened, leaving me face-to-face with an open hallway.
The white and grey panelled walls were minimalist and clean, and after a wander down, two doors came into sight, number twenty-three to the left. The door unlocked and opened without a sound, showcasing a beautiful blank canvas of a room.

All seemed well so far.

I sighed and stepped over the threshold. There was an east-facing glass wall with a black iron-gilded balcony. A large living room with a single sofa and coffee table, giving way to an open plan kitchen. Closing the door behind me, I ventured a little further.
Single bedroom, reasonably sized with a cute blue and black en suite.

It was fucking perfect.

Small, but not suffocating, respectable neighbourhood, no apparen neughbourly troubles, and a conveniently brief walk from the magazine’s main office.

And that was it – no possibly logical reason to turn down this job, or this apartment.

Returnign to the living room, I opened the door to the balcony and stepped out, leaning against the cool railing.
Slipping my phone out of my bag, I flicked through the contacts until I found the one I needed. Leah Green.
“Hello, Leah?” I said as the phone was answered. “It’s Maya. I was just calling to say, I would love to take the vacancy as your PA.”

As scary as it seemed, it looked like I was finally getting somewhere with