She was late. She’d missed the dinner I’d provided for my work associates and their guests. I wonder why she hadn’t arrived on time like everyone else, but then, when I see her step through the door, frazzled, looking anxiously around for her husband, who is standing across the room, leaning against the wall, talking to some of the other people from our team who do not perform well, I understand that Thompson probably didn’t even invite her to the dinner.
She rushes over to him, and he stands up straight, looking annoyed, like she’s interrupted some important work discussion. I pretend to listen to the woman standing next to me, one of the presidents of the marketing department who is talking about an account I could care less about, but my eyes are on her, the beautiful woman who is unfortunately attached to that sleaze, Jeff Thompson.
I watch as they step away from the others, as Jeff grabs her elbow and pulls her close, a little too violently for my liking. I see her face and know that she wants to say something to him about how she’s being treated but is afraid to. I watch as they step outside onto the balcony. I watch--and then I excuse myself and walk closer to where they have disappeared, positioning myself close enough to the door that I can hear what they are saying, though they won’t be able to see me through the frosted glass barrier between the balcony and the room.
“I called you several times,” she says, her voice pleading, pained.
“Well, excuse the hell out of me for having a life!” Jeff shoots back, clearly letting his anger get the best of him. “What are you wearing, anyway?”
“The silver dress, like you said,” she replies. I can’t see her, but I can picture her looking down at her gown, inspecting it. She looked gorgeous to me from across the room earlier. What problem good this jackass possibly have with her gown.
“I don’t remember it being so low cut,” he says. “Half of your breasts are sticking out!”
She is silent for a moment and then offers, “I brought this wrap.”
“You look like an old woman!” he shouts back at her. “Look, I don’t have time for this, all right? I invited you because I was expressly asked to; some of the other wives wanted to meet you or some bullshit. I’ve done my duty. You’re here. I’m going back out to drink with my friends. Maybe you should just… go.”
“Go?” I hear the agony in her voice, the pain of his abrupt dismissal, as if she has been cast off by someone she loves deeply. How did such a beautiful woman ever develop feelings for this self-absorbed pig?
“Or stay out here if you want to. Just don’t embarrass me, all right? My job is hard enough as it is without you looking like a whore in front of all of my bosses and work associates.”
He stomps off, coming back toward the door. I am pretending to listen to the conversation happening around me and do not look at him, though I am tempted to put my foot out and trip him--then we’ll see who is embarrassed. Since my eyes are not on Thompson as he slinks by, I don’t know if he has noticed me standing there or not, but I doubt it. He is usually only aware of himself.
Once he is back with his buddies, I excuse myself from the conversation and step outside.
It is dark out now, the lights from the city and the stars providing some illumination that meets the figure near the railing who is far enough away from the light filtering through the door and window, as well as the weak light on the wall by the door, that she is mostly in shadow.
I can hear that she is weeping before I even get within a few feet of her. She does not seem to have noticed that she isn’t alone anymore. I don’t want to embarrass her or bother her, but I feel her pain stabbing me in my own heart. I cannot understand Jeff Thompson, how such a shallow, idiotic man could be married to such a beautiful creature and treat her the way that he does, but it makes me angry in a way I cannot describe.
I take another step closer and she hears me then, swiping at her cheeks and pulling her wrap around her shoulders before she even turns her head. I’m not sure if she’ll recognize me or even how well she can see me now that I am also away from the light, but when her eyes meet mine, I am fairly certain she knows who I am.
“Are you all right?” I ask her, my voice gentle.
She nods, clears her throat. “Yes. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to….” She stops talking, not sure what to say. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t seem fine,” I remind her as I step up closer to her. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Oh, no! Really, I’m fine. I just wanted to get some fresh air.”
I take a whiff of the fumes from the city, the cars below us doing nothing to make the air fresh and then look at her, arching an eyebrow.
She actually cracks a smile at me. “Well, maybe not fresh. But… not stuffy. Not that the people inside are stuffy--or that the party is stuffy. Only that….” She groans and looks away from me, shaking her head. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”
“That’s all right,” I assure her. Then, waiting for her to look at me again, I offer her my hand. “I’m Braxton.”
“I know,” she says, a small smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “I recognize you. I’m Julia Thompson.”
“I know,” I say back, getting her perfectly sculpted eyebrows to rise. “I’ve been waiting to meet you.”
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
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,