Under The Table At Corporate

Brian Williams knots up the oft-seen cravat of deep navy with narrow blush pink stripes.  It had been an interminably long meeting this time, and she couldn't stand these people to begin with.  Look at all of them, like sad, dark Puritans in their somber suits.  She wasn't much better, she knew, in her own jacket and skirt.  Sighing, she eased out of her pumps under the conference table, flexing her toes.  Her feet hurt, and she knew taking her shoes off was a mistake. Just then, she heard it--the clatter of his reading glasses next to her.  As he bent low to retrieve them, she froze.  Was that a...touch?