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1982, I’m looking at you.
“Well, so anyway, I jump in his cab and I might have waved out the window at him and sort of made fun of him and…” I can feel myself withering under Natalie’s glare. “He didn’t exactly have a name tag on!” I say defensively, my cheeks a brilliant red. Perfect, now they can match my brilliant red ears.
“So I felt bad and I went to his office after the big announcement and I told him I was sorry and I knocked over his vase, well, a vase, and broke it and then he carried me in his arms—”
“He what?”
“Will you let me finish? I haven’t even gotten to the good part yet!”
Natalie’s eyes open wide and I can almost see her thoughts as they flash through her mind, and I can tell they're getting dirtier by the second.
“His cock…Natalie, I didn’t see it, but holy fuck, it’s huge, like 12 inches huge,” I breathe, finally getting to the important part. “He was telling me that he was going to tie me up and spank me and he was pulling off his tie—”
Natalie squeaks like a dog toy, making me feel better about my sudden impersonation of the annoying aisle of the Petco store, but I plow forward, wanting to get this off my chest.
“But his secretary, Mrs. Sanders, remember her? Real cranky old biddy?” At Natalie’s nod, I continue, “She beeped in over the intercom and said that he had to go to a meeting to talk to board members about which departments to cut. Whole departments! Natalie, we may not have—”
“It’s probably here that I should cut you off,” a voice says from the speaker on the phone.
The phone in the middle of the room, on the table.
The phone with the red blinking light on it, indicating that it’s live and broadcasting and fucking picking up everything I’m saying, oh god, oh god, oh god.
“I would hate for you to say something that you might regret later,” a voice says drolly.
Not a voice.
Apollo Kane’s voice.
Natalie’s staring at me, and me at her, and I can’t breathe and I’m hyperventilating and as Natalie dives for the phone to turn it off, I’m running and I can hear my skirt tearing, my strides are so long but I don’t care, I fucking don’t care, I have to hide, I have to go into the bathroom and hide and never, ever come out and they’re going to find me, dead, just a pile of bones and cute clothes and say sadly, “There lies Ashley the Associate Editor who literally died of embarrassment,” and my ghost’s cheeks are going to turn red when it hears those words.
As I sit on top of the toilet, snuffling pathetically, my arms wrapped around my knees, I have to wonder what I’d ever done to deserve this. If they ever invent a time machine, the first thing I’m doing is going back to this morning. I’m going to fucking hold the damn door open to the taxi cab and wish Apollo Kane a good day while he’s climbing into it. Because then I wouldn’t have had to apologize to him and he wouldn’t have promised to spank me and I wouldn’t have…
I wouldn’t have heard the plans to fire my fellow co-workers. To fire me.
I drop my head to my knees and stare dully down, eyes unseeing.
No, even a time machine couldn’t help me now. Me and my friends and even my co-workers that I’d secretly give decaf coffee to, just to fuck with their heads…we’re all fucked.
And I don’t have the slightest clue of what to do about it.
107
Apollo
I stretch and roll my head from side to side across my shoulders. Fuck, what a day. It's only 6pm, but it feels like so much later. Usually, I have endless stamina and can work 20 hours a day without missing a beat, but today…
Today has been frustratingly draining and it isn’t hard to know why. You asshole keeps rolling around in my head, reverberating, echoing, but never dying out. Never growing quiet and disappearing like any normal echo would.
Well, Ashley Miller is no normal person. I even caught of glimpse of that while listening to, what she thought was, a private conversation between her and Natalie. She is infuriating and opinionated and not in the least impressed or intimidated by me and…
And sexy as fuck.
I push away from the piece of shit desk and grab my briefcase. It's time to go home, drink a glass of wine, call over Tiffani and four of her naughtiest friends, and fuck my frustrations away. I’d heard about a new BDSM club downtown, maybe I’ll take them all there and—
The elevator door opens with a ding, and there’s Ashley. She looks up at the ding of the door opening and the look on her face when she sees me says that she can’t decide if she wants to fuck me or strangle me.
Welcome to the club, lady.
