You straighten your tie in your rear view mirror. This is your big chance so nothing can be left imperfect. You look sharp in a tailor fitted suit, meticulously cut after your bosses favourite style to add a little spark to the already impressive sight of your professionalism. You look like a million bucks and you feel it too, using a bit of the body wash and cologne your old roommate gave you when started at the firm. You hadn't used it since it was so expensive looking but now seemed the perfect time.
As you strode into the exclusive restaurant, exclusive by the standards of your town anyway, you felt like you could get used to coming here night after night like your boss. Exactly why you suggested that he and his wife meet you there for dinner.
You give your name to the maitre 'd and he leads you to a well appointed booth in a private, cozy corner set with water wine and hors d'oeuvres for your approval. You seem quite content with the spread so the host leaves you to wait for your guests who arrive only moments after you sat.
You wave to them and smile, a practiced manouvre intended not to look over-eager but instead attentive, and take a sip of your wine. Your boss' wife looks glorious, glittering with diamonds and blonde hair that was quite obviously not her original colour. You couldn't stand the woman to be perfectly frank but you had been as kind as you could to her and gained a bit of favour with the family through her vapid little interests.
You stand to offer your boss a firm, dominant handshake and comment on his coat so very similar to yours but so much nicer simply by the sums of money he could throw into his clothing. You can't help but thing that something was wrong with his hand thoguh as something seemed to crush like stuffed leather in your palm. He didn't seem to notice but then again the botox in his chisled face might hid any sort of emotion.
You resist a powerful urge to scratch the growing itch on your arms instead focusing on compliment the pair and making idle talk about work but more and more the itching threatens to grow unbearable. Were you allergic to your fancy body wash? Something has to give but your boss seems caught up in a potential drawn out story about Budapest.