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She clicked her mouse, and the feed started replaying the scene. There was no sound. The audio was redirected to a pair of buds in the jack, but then again, he didn’t need it. Every moment was still seared in his memory. Him and Rebecca making out in his chair. The call from Alice. Rebecca hiding. His wife stripping on the screen while the girl sucked him off… Richard hated to admit it, but even under her scrutiny, the memory of it was making him hard.
“Off the record, I have to say, I’m impressed. I thought the pair of you were just a boring, straight-laced, middle-class couple. The sort that argues twice a week and fucks once every leap year. I certainly never would have guessed Alice had it in her. I mean, I always suspected she had a bit of a wild streak in her. All these stuck-up bitches do, but to actually Skype her man at work to have phone sex! Bravo. And as for you...” She shut down the media player and twisted the monitor back around to face her, her eyes bright and mocking. “Well, look at the cock on you. And while a hot bit of young ass blows you under the desk, as well. Never knew you had it in you, either. I thought that only happened in bad porn.”
With a shudder of self-loathing at his treacherous loins, Richard met Scarlet’s gaze. “And I never guessed you were such a voyeur. What do you do, sit around here watching us all day?”
“No, not unless I have due cause to check the feeds. And when I spotted your little friend going into one of my departments, then strutting by my office door with that 'cat that got the canary grin' on her face nearly half an hour later… Well, it wouldn’t be very professional of me to just turn a blind eye. Who knew what she was getting up to, or rather, who was getting into her…” she chuckled mockingly. “You should thank me, Dick. If someone in security had seen this. Well, who knows how far it could have gone...” She let the point hang there to let his imagination do the rest.
“Is that what happened to you? Did one guard catch you having a bonk and run off to tell Daddy?” The words were out before he could stop himself.
"Excuse me?"
Shit, now he'd done it.
He gritted his teeth against another outburst and tried to look contrite. "Never mind, I-"
"No, go on, Dick,” she said, raising a hand to stop him, her voice suddenly very still and deadly serious. “So just what are they all saying about me? I’m the office slut? A hot fuck in the closet, or a quick suck in the bog type of girl? Or is it the old chestnut, daddy issues? Sleeping with all of Daddy’s little minions because old Walrus Face wouldn’t buy her a pony for her tenth birthday?”
“No one said anything about a pony,” he admitted, resisting the urge to look away as a chill crept up his spine and he had the unmistakable feeling of shrinking into his chair.
“Then you’ve missed some of the more lurid variations,” she continued. “No Dick, I’ve never been caught on camera. I’m not a slut, Dick. I just like sex and I’m not afraid to show it. Or enjoy it.”
Richard wondered for a moment if he should ask, but she spoke with such resolve, he couldn't help himself. “And the stories about you with Tommy Cox, and Mike from Legal.”
She shrugged. “They’re true. I found them attractive and thought they would be a decent lay. So, I offered, and they took me up on it. They were under no obligations.”
Richard was aghast. “They lost their jobs and their wives divorced them because of your affairs. Doesn’t that bother you?”
“No!” Scarlet held up a dismissive hand. “Their wives divorced them because they found out their husbands were getting some on the side and didn’t like it. And I sacked them because they thought banging the boss’s daughter whenever she needed to take the edge off gave them the right to talk shit about the company. Clearly, they were wrong. If their wives had sucked their dicks once in a while, maybe they would've gone home to them instead of meeting me in the Travel Lodge. So, what do I have to feel guilty about Dick? I’m not married and I’m not lying to my spouse to bang a hot bit of ass.” Her smile dropped, and her expression was suddenly as cold and hard as a diamond. “It’s rather hypocritical, don’t you think, questioning my morals when you’re the one getting a little lip service from your bit on the side?”
She had it right, of course. And whatever else his faults might have been, Richard wasn’t so great a fool as to try lying to himself.
What right did he have to criticize her?
They may have both been indiscreet, but she was single and a free agent.
He, on the other hand, was a married man.
“Yes. You’re right, I’m sorry, and it won’t happen again,” he capitulated and finally looked down at his feet, running a hand through his hair. Scarlet nodded, accepting his apologies, but it wasn’t enough. He felt the need to say more, to explain himself, or perhaps just get it all out in the open. “This all started Friday night, after we got home from the party, and I let myself get carried away in the moment. I made a mistake and now- “
“Why?”
“What?” The question was so unexpected, he rounded on her without thinking.
Yet Scarlet merely looked back, nonplussed. Then, as if he hadn’t spoken at all, she calmly pulled open one of her drawers and pulled out a Tupperware tub and a small packet of chocolate dip. “Do you mind? I had lunch but seem to have missed dessert, courtesy of your little show.”
He nodded, but without waiting for his response, Scarlet had already stood up and was walking around the desk to sit on the edge directly in front of his chair. She crossed her legs. “So, why was it a mistake?”
“You have got to be joking,” he stammered, all too aware of their closeness as the floral scent of her perfume fogged his senses.
“Am I laughing?” she asked, undoing the container's fastenings before carefully balancing the lid on her knee like a plate, then tipping a variable punnet of fat red strawberries out onto it. “If I were joking, Dick, you would be in stitches. Now, this girl-”
“Rebecca,” he cut in, perhaps a little too forcefully, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want her referring to Rebecca in that way. Like she was insignificant.
Scarlet shot him a withering, almost pitying look as she ripped the lid off of her dip. “Okay, Rebecca. You’ve known her a while?”
Richard nodded. “Yeah, she lives in our building. She’s our babysitter.”
She exaggerated rolling her eyes, then plucked up one strawberry and plunged it in the dip. “I never would have guessed, still I suppose a cliché is a cliché for a reason. Okay, so you’ve known her a while. And she comes from a troubled home?”
