Braxton Merriweather is standing in front of me--and he knew my name. I can hardly believe my ears. I blink at him a few times, wondering why it is he knows who I am, why it is he’s come to speak to me.
I know that Jeff was angry when I arrived. That wasn’t his fault, though. That was my fault. I was out of sorts, and he had every right to be cross with me. Still, people who didn’t understand the situation might think that was Jeff’s fault, that he was being too hard on me.I want to ask Mr. Merriweather how he knows who I am, but I am too shy to pose the question. Instead, I just stand there, staring at him, trying to process the situation. He is absolutely the best looking man I’ve ever seen in real life and probably even more handsome than most of the guys I’ve seen on TV or the movies. He is also rich beyond comprehension.
Before I can say anything in response, Braxton asks, “Have you eaten any dinner yet?”
I wrinkle my forehead at the question. It seems like such a strange thing to ask. “Uhm, no,” I stammer, wondering why he’s asking.
“I didn’t think so,” he says. “You missed the dinner.”
I continue to look at him, puzzled. “There was a….” I stop talking. Obviously, there had been a dinner, or he wouldn’t be mentioning it now.
“Yes, and I hate to think of any of my guests going hungry.” Braxton looks toward the interior of the building, though we can’t really see through the frosted glass. “There are hors d'oeuvres being passed around, but that simply won’t do.” Mr. Merriweather offers me his arm. “Come along, and I’ll get you something proper to eat.”
I stare at his arm for a moment, not wanting to be rude but also not wanting to be a bother. Or make Jeff even more angry since he’s already told me to stay out here. “Oh, no, that’s okay,” I assure him. “I’m fine.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Julia. You have to eat.” His arm is still crooked, extended to me.
I look at his arm again and then back at his eyes. They are a bright blue that twinkles in the dim light, almost as if they are glowing, though not in an alien way. “Really….”
“It won’t do to have anyone at my party go without dinner.”
The way he says it, I can’t possibly turn him down. It’s like an order of some sort almost, though not in a rude way.
I find myself looping my arm through his, despite the fact that I know Jeff will come undone if he finds out that I’ve gone back inside, especially with his boss. He will shout at me and tell me I am a bother to everyone. He might be right, but at the moment, I don’t feel like a bother, not to Mr. Merriweather, anyway. I feel like an invited guest whom he wants to ensure is having a nice time. It’s been so long since anyone has made me feel this way, made me feel important, I am not sure how to handle any of it.
The feel of his arm on mine, even through his jacket, is electrifying. I want to wrap my other arm around his, too, and hold him close, but that would be ridiculous. Just because the handsome billionaire also happens to be thoughtful and kind, that doesn’t give me the right to latch on to him like a small child clinging to a parent in an unfamiliar situation.
I glance around once we enter the building, but I don’t see Jeff anywhere. I figure he is back with his friends. Mr. Merriweather gets plenty of attention as we walk through the party. People want his attention. He is polite, but doesn’t stop walking until we reach the other side of the large room. Then, he pushes through a door I didn’t realize is even a door, and then we are in another room, and the sounds behind us fade away. I take a deep breath as I realize this is a suit--a large sitting area in front of us, and on the other side of the room, a huge four-poster bed.
We are not alone, though. There is a woman there, dressed in a nice champagne colored gown. She has a friendly smile on her face.
“Cindy, I have just discovered that Mrs. Thompson was not able to join us for dinner. Will you see that she’s brought the finest steak we have available as soon as possible? Freshly prepared, of course.”
“Yes, Mr. Merriweather,” she says with a twinkle in her eyes.
Then, he turns to me. “You do like steak, don’t you?”
I nod. “Thank you.”
Cindy has left the room, and we are alone. “Please, have a seat,” he says, gesturing toward the couch. I do, but he does not join me. I am nervous under his heavy stare. My shawl slips down a little, and I pull it back up. It’s not cold in here, not at all, but I remember what Jeff said about how obscene my dress is. I didn’t realize that you could see so much cleavage. I find myself looking down. I still don’t understand why my husband is so upset about this dress. When I look back up, Mr. Merriweather’s eyes are also on my chest. He looks away as soon as he sees that I am looking at him. I almost smile; unlike when some men ogle a woman’s breasts, he seems to have just been following my eyes. But even if he was not, and he was actually checking me out, I don’t mind for some reason. It doesn’t matter, after all. I am a married woman, and he is the most eligible bachelor in our city, maybe the whole country.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asks me.
I can’t imagine this billionaire who is used to having other people wait on him hand and foot getting me anything, but I am thirsty and could definitely use some alcohol to help me relax. “Sure…” I say.
He crosses to a wet bar and comes back a moment later with a nice red wine. “This should pair nicely with your dinner.”
I take the glass, and our fingers brush against each other slightly, sending shivers down my spine. I almost spill the glass. “Thank you,” I manage.
Braxton Merriweather smiles at me, and I feel like my insides are catching fire.
Julia Thompson is breathtaking, and I can’t keep my eyes off of her. I know I need to be more discreet. Staring at her as she sits there nervously on the sofa in the private suite I maintain right off of the main ballroom in my apartment complex, I want to forget that I have a few hundred guests just on the other side of the soundproof door, including her husband. I want to tell Cindy not to bother with the steak, that I’ll give Julia everything that she needs.I can’t do that, though. Not yet anyway. It would be immoral of me to put moves on this married woman--unless, of course, her husband approves it—and so does she. I have been thinking of what I can do to get Jeff Thompson to realize he is not worthy of his wife, but he is such an arrogant asshole, I think he’s somehow gotten the impression he is too good for her. He is about to be reminded that he is nothing, that he is an insignificant peon and that his entire career exists only because I have not lowered my thumb and squashed
Jeff Thompson is standing with a group of low-level workers from his department, laughing, their drinks nearly empty and not for the first time from what I can tell. They are certainly inebriated. I stand back and study them for a while, planning how to say what I need to say to Thompson without losing my cool. Standing this far away from him, looking at him with my expensive liquor in his hand, wearing off-brand shoes and a suit that he’s worn nearly every day since he started working for me, just changing out the shirt under the jacket, I can’t help but wonder what he does with all of the money I pay him. He certainly doesn’t spend it on his wife. But then, I’m pretty sure I already know. It is my understanding that he has a pretty serious addiction to pornography. That can get costly, once a person is entangled. I can’t help but wonder if perhaps he is also paying for sex.Why he would do that when his wife is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, I can’t say, but he has
I am not very hungry, even though the steak and potatoes Cindy has kindly brought to me taste wonderful. I make myself take a few bites as she sits on the sofa near me, making casual conversation. She has asked me about when I met Jeff and where we moved here from, and I have answered her between bites. Now, after four or five pieces of steak, I am nearing my limit. I’m nervous, and it’s difficult to eat something so heavy on a jittery stomach.“Mr. Merriweather was very kind to provide dinner for me,” I say, thinking it might be time to set my fork aside. I look her in the eyes to see if she understands what I am getting at.“He is very thoughtful,” she agrees. “Don’t feel obligated to eat all of it, though. If you’re finished, I’ll have it taken away.”“Do you mind?” It seems so strange to me to have someone waiting on me. I’m not used to it at all. I can’t remember the last time anyone did anything for me.“Not at all,” she says with a smile. Cindy stands and goes to the door she’d
“Just get in the car, and don’t say a word,” Jeff tells me as we exit Merriweather Towers. He has me by the arm, and even though he’s not quite squeezing tightly enough to hurt me, it isn’t comfortable either.I’m not exactly sure why he’s mad at me, though I can think of several reasons. I didn’t stay outside as he had ordered me to. I had interacted with Cindy and her friends as she’d taken me around the party. Though I had tried to keep to myself and be as quiet as possible, I had been forced to greet people, to shake their hands and be polite. I know Jeff doesn’t like it when I touch men, even to shake their hands, but I couldn’t be rude and ignore an outstretched hand, could I? Jeff doesn’t like it when I am rude either.In the taxi, he tells the driver our address and mumbles under his breath about how this will cost a fortune. I feel bad. I know Merriweather doesn’t pay as much as a person would think, which I’ve always thought was odd considering the lavish parties Mr. Merriwe
I hear Jeff’s alarm go off, but it only partially wakes me up. I’m so tired from being out late last night. And from the argument. When we got home, Jeff was so drunk…. He screamed at me for a long time, leaving me in tears. He passed out, and I cried myself to sleep. Despite his anger at me the night before, and the fact that he is clearly hung over, he curses at his phone, turns off the alarm, and promptly pulls his dick out of his briefs.I know the routine. It is the same every morning. I push the blankets off and pull my panties off as he clumsily climbs on top of me. He pushes my nightgown up to my collar bone and sucks hard on my left nipple until it hurts as he presses inside of me. I find a spot on the ceiling to stare at and move my hips a little because he wants me to. I put my hands on his back. He’ll be done soon enough.It takes a little longer this time than normal because Jeff still has alcohol in his system. His dick is small anyway, but when he is drunk or hungover,
Springer followed Jeff and Julia Thompson home last night to report on how he was treating his wife. I had him hang around outside of their apartment. He could hear Jeff screaming at her for quite some time in his drunken slur, and he thought he heard him strike her as well. When I sent him back this morning to collect Jeff, it was mostly because I wanted to see if there was evidence of that strike. In the car on the way to work, Springer calls me and tells me he has seen a red mark across Julia’s cheek.I am furious.Waiting in my office, I tell Cindy not to let anyone in to see me. I wanted to speak to Thompson first thing in the morning, but even though I have sent a car to bring him to work so that he doesn’t have to fool with public transportation, he is running behind.Pacing back and forth in front of my desk, I try to get a hold of myself. I have practiced what I intend to say to him several times, but I am still worried about how it may come out. Thompson is an asshole, and t
Jeff Thompson rushes into my office like a child hurrying in to see the principal before he gets in bigger trouble for acting out in class. It’s too late for Thompson to change his behavior now to avoid punishment, but then, what I have in mind gets him off of the hook for all of his mistakes anyway, assuming he goes along with it, assuming his wife does not decline. If that’s the case, he’s in bigger trouble than he knows.“Mr. Merriweather, sir,” he says, offering me his hand. “I’m so sorry I’m running behind. The company car you sent was caught in traffic.”I arch an eyebrow at him. Does he really think I’m not aware that the reason he is late is because he didn’t even get into the car until a few minutes before he was meant to be here? I will not have that discussion with him, though. “Have a seat, Thompson,” I tell him, declining to shake his hand as I can’t force myself to do so at the moment.He drops his hand, drags it along his suit pants like there’s something wrong with it,
Today has been a different day than most. Almost every day of my life is exactly the same as the last day, so it is odd that I have broken from that norm. I ate my husband’s breakfast. I took a shower and fixed my hair, even putting on a little makeup. I put on a nice outfit, as if I had someplace to go. I didn’t. But for some reason, I felt a little more valuable than I had in a while, and I guess Braxton Merriweather had something to do with that, even if he doesn’t know it.Even though I look nicer than normal and had eaten better than on an average day, I still have chores to do. I am washing the dishes when my phone rings. I don’t recognize the number, but I decide to answer anyway, something unusual for me. I think I may as well keep up this unusual day with an unusual telephone conversation.I had no idea at the time just how right I would be.“Hello?” I say as I drop my sponge into the sink and dry my hands, nestling the phone between my neck and my shoulder.“Hello. Is this M