by Fiona Murphy
Leaving, I didn’t see a sign of Bobby. I never saw him again. My brother tells me that only three days later he moved in with his dad in Buffalo, New York. He expected a reaction. I gave none. My family all knew something happened, considering I never even spoke Bobby’s name again. I never told them I learned my lesson. What my father has been telling me since I was in my early teens was true. Men don’t want a fat girl, they want someone thin and pretty. I learned from Bobby the only reason a man wants a fat girl is because they are supposed to be willing to do anything to keep him.
In the years since, I’ve only been with two other men who reinforced what Bobby had said, men only wanted a woman like me for sex. Even the dates were bad, I had one date stop me at the door, saying he was just there to fuck, I didn’t expect to be seen out with him, did I? Each encounter left me feeling empty inside and hating my body and myself. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and gave up on men.
In the years since I have depended on a gift given to me by mother. I remember being utterly mortified as she started talking. While she understood sex and the feelings of romance were exciting, they were always better when you were cared about. Until I found someone who really cared about me, there was nothing wrong with a substitute. Then she gave me a vibrator, made of soft silicone, in my favorite color of pink.
At the time I wanted to die. Now I want to kiss her for giving the only release I could count on for years. A few years ago, I upgraded and now have two vibrators: one like my mother first gave me, and another with the beads and tickler. I have been content. I really was, until now.
Eyes closed, head back against the wall, I take a deep breath, the scent of Ethan invades me all over again. I have to get out of here, this can’t happen. This isn’t me, the crying, the longing for something I can’t have. Picking myself off the floor, I flood my face with cold water. On legs like Jello, I stumble out of his bathroom, down the hall, and into the living room, where I’m bathed in bright sunlight.
Blinking, I make my way to the wall of glass, it’s this place, the same way this place is Ethan. Stunning, unlike anything thing I’ve ever known. I don’t belong here, even as a housekeeper I’m out of my league. While I can fake it, it won’t be long before I’m shown to be the pretender I am.
Looking down on the city fills me with awe, this is real. I’m here now, and no one can take this memory from me. Even if I’m just here to clean the windows, this is my view. The knot unfurls in my chest and I push away from the window. If I didn’t get to work, it wouldn’t be my view for long.
Cora had shown me how to use the canister vacuum that had seemed odd, having never even seen one before. She advised me to run it only every other day on the carpets, which were valuable and delicate, but the vacuum was excellent for the hardwood floors. I run the vacuum carefully over the carpets, then the hardwood. I’m impressed, and in love with this vacuum.
Cleaning done, I go into Ethan’s office. On the open laptop, I email to connect with his secretary. My email to her is brief, introducing myself, letting her know if there’s anything I can do, to let me know. While I wait for her response, I go through the file simply labeled home. There is a spreadsheet for his bills. The cells contain everything: his household bills from his cable and internet bill, to credit cards. Then there are links to the websites to pay online and the due date for each bill. In the corner of the spreadsheet is a credit card to be used. Thankfully, Cora had paid all of the bills for this month. She advised most of the bills were due on or around the same day of the month, so she always paid them on the same day to make it easy for her.
A tone goes off letting me know an email came in. I see the response from his secretary. I’m floored by the angry, short response from the woman. Okay, I’ll make sure just to go through his schedule synced on the phone that had been given to Cora, now mine. His work laptop is synced with his home laptop because Ethan Bishop didn’t do anything so lowly as carry his laptop to and from work.
Yesterday, Cora and I went shopping for both home items and groceries. I was given a printout on when to buy everything from his shampoo, to toothpaste, and his cologne, along with where to buy them. It’s just after six thirty. I get up and walk the condo, shit, I forgot the bags on his suits. He hated them to remain on his suits and wanted the suits moved from the wire hangers the cleaners put them on to the hard plastic hangers he preferred.
His schedule has him at work until eight. Cora had said he usually had dinner out. However, she usually left something in case he came straight home. Dinner is salmon, navy beans mashed with a splash of olive oil, and French cut green beans. I make enough for myself too, as Cora said it was fine to eat from what was in the kitchen. Then I leave a note instructing him to put it in the toaster oven for six minutes and it would be ready.
Cleaning the kitchen again. I leave at a little after seven. I walk slowly toward the El, then, as usual, get off three stops before the stop for my apartment. Walking into the bookstore, I find the book I’ve been reading, then go to the café to find an empty seat. When the warning goes out of the store closing soon, I put the book back and go home.
Chapter Six
Finishing the contract, I attach a note to Sharon that it’s ready to be sent over for signatures. As I do, I see it’s a little after seven. I’m not hiding from Holly, this is work. My cock is hard again at the idea of her in those threadbare tight jeans and the way they clung to her ass. Swallowing hard, I make a call to my building. The front desk tells me she left not long ago. Now I’m ready to go home.
When I walk through the door, I swear. It smells good in here, the lightest tinge of lemon hangs in the air. Nothing is out of place. In the kitchen, I’m thrown by how clean it is. There’s a note on the refrigerator telling me there is a plate for dinner. I open the door to find the plate of food that looks like it came from a restaurant.
Curious, I take it out then follow the instructions. It had been sitting on parchment paper and nothing sticks when I slide it off from the toaster oven. Taking it into the dining room, I taste the salmon, fuck it’s good. I’m curious about the mashed navy beans, I’ve never had them this way, they are damned good. Even the green beans are perfectly seasoned, with a hint of a crunch to them. No way is she a better cook than Cora, this was a one-time thing. I bet she can’t do lasagna this well. My plate clean, I rinse it off then put it into the dishwasher.
No fucking way, is the inside of the dishwasher whiter than the last time I saw it? Where is the scent of cherries coming from? I wonder, as I make my way out of the kitchen. Changing out of my suit, I see she got the dry cleaning and changed out the hangers. I undress down to my boxers before climbing into bed and turn on the television. Ignoring the inner voice wondering why I’m at home in bed when I could be out at the best clubs pussy hunting, or hell, even client hunting.
Fuck, I smell cherries again. On the sheets, it was Holly. I remember a trace of cherries when I shook her hand and felt the sting of attraction to her. Forcing my eyes closed, I fight my cock getting hard at the thought of her in my bed.
This was ridiculous. The day after tomorrow I have an invitation to a party where I will have my choice of women. I’ll find one there to get Holly off my mind. Fine, the place was cleaner, smelled nicer, and the food was better than Cora had done in a few years. She had fucked up my toast this morning, besides, this was only day one.
****
The next morning everything is perfectly timed and tastes exactly the way I like it. It had been on my mind all morning. As I leave I decide not to let it go. “Holly, do you wear some sort of perfume with cherries in it?”
Looking up from the counter she’s wiping, she looks up and nods. “Yes.”
“I want you to stop wearing it.”
She blinks. “Are you allergic to scents or cherries?”
“No, I just don’t want you wearing the cherry stuff.”
“Then, no. I’ll wear the perfume I want.”
I was already in the process o
f turning away from her to leave. Turning back, I find her with one hand on her hip the other on the counter. “I said no more cherry perfume.”
“It’s not cherry perfume, it’s a layer of scented soap with a body splash. I’ll wear what I want. You bought me as a housekeeper, not a toy to do with as you please. It isn’t even very strong. I don’t understand why you’re making a big deal out of it.”
“I don’t like the scent. I don’t want you wearing it. It’s that simple.”
“That is bullshit, I am barely here. I don’t spray the place in it or anything. Once again, I’m wearing it. Do you need me to buy you a little mask so you can make it through the three hours you spend at home?”
“Or you could wear a real perfume. The kind that doesn’t come from the corner drugstore. Maybe it wouldn’t be so insufferable then. You want to smell like a little girl, it’s up to you.” I’m pissed as fuck, allowing the door to slam behind me. Great, knowing her contrary ass I’ll never stop smelling it.
As my day goes by I can’t forget the damned scent, knowing I’ll have to live with it. The thought makes me reach for the phone, Diana has agreed to be my distraction for the night. She is a beautiful woman who ticks all my boxes, and she smells like a fucking field of flowers, always. For Diana, I’ve gone back twice. I had told myself there wouldn’t be a third. Today, I’m desperate.
This time, I go up to get her myself. Vicci is her preferred place, so I play along, it’s a sushi place—I hate sushi. Thankfully, they also have steak. I order steak and a baked potato, and then settle in to begin the flattery I'll need to get her into my bed.
Diana’s smile is wide, “I have the best news. I’m pregnant!”
A chill chases up my spine. “Congratulations.” The word is weak.
“Don’t look so worried, it isn’t yours. I did the sperm bank route. I’ve wanted to be a mom for years. I know it won’t be easy on my own, which is why I’m moving back to Oklahoma. Far from being scandalized, my parents are ecstatic and want to be involved. I leave in a few weeks.”
There went my diversion for the evening. I say all the right words, I think. The idea of a child has never appealed to me. I’m not inclined to believe the instinct to procreate is in everyone. My parents were far more interested in my father’s career than in me, often leaving me with a revolving nanny until sending me to private military school when I was nine. Then there were the constantly changing locations, during the summer I was allowed to come home, yet still spent little to no time with either one of my parents. I wish her well, as I drop her off at home. Then tell Ricky to take me to the cigar bar where I stay until midnight. When I undress, my jacket is covered in a scent light, sweet, and sophisticated. I’ve done what I set out to do.
****
Jesus fucking Christ, her jeans are a worn second skin and her top is a threadbare tunic. Fuck, I can make out every inch of her bra and the skin below it. I do my best to ignore it, but my fucking cock is an asshole and won’t. Especially when I can look down her top when she sets my plate in front of me.
Anger at her and myself for wanting her force the words out of me as I’m about to leave. “Cora didn’t need a uniform, but maybe you do. Since it seems all you have are tattered jeans and threadbare shirts that show off everything. Or is it a play for attention? Are you looking for a pay-raise already?” Her eyes go wide in horror. Relief fills me. She hasn’t realized her effect on me and wasn’t trying to entice my horny ass.
“Not everyone has the money to buy what comes out every season. I’ll buy new clothes with my first paycheck, so as not to offend you.” She spits out the words.
She’s barely done speaking before I reach into an inner pocket, pulling out my checkbook. “In that case, here’s an advance on your first two weeks. Go shopping and find something that doesn’t cling like a second skin. Something made within the last decade would go a long way.”
I leave the check on the counter and walk away, ignoring the tears gleaming in her sherry eyes.
****
The party is in full swing. At three hours since the party started, I step into the room. Only ten minutes later, I’m bored. I want to leave, except this is for a client I recently helped close on an acquisition to expand her fashion empire. I can’t leave, there’s an expectation for me to see and be seen here. Normally, I’m in my element at a party like this, models are everywhere, all wearing dresses that are next to nothing. Not a single one interests me. I make my way to my client, making the small talk as expected, the woman is teasing and flirting as usual. Then she offers up one model after another, previously, my cock would be rising with anticipation. Now, nothing.
All I can think of, have been thinking about, is making Holly cry. I know I’ve made dozens of women cry before. I’ve watched women cry as they begged for more, more time, another chance. Every time, their tears did nothing, only annoyed me. Now all I want to do is turn back the clock to take back what I said. All day, all damned day, every time I closed my eyes I saw the tears welling up in her eyes. It’s fucking making me nuts, I want to know if Holly is okay. I know the way I can find out, but shy away from it. Amelia reads me too damned well.
A woman slides her arm around my neck, the models are already tall and wearing four and five-inch heels; some of them are taller than my own six foot three. It’s never bothered me before but this woman leaning down around me annoys me. I hold up my phone as I pull away.
Finding a balcony, I hit send. Amelia answers on the third ring. “You are such an asshole, Ethan. I swear. Sometimes you make me ashamed to be your sister.”
“Like I said a damned thing she didn’t know.”
“You are just too damned much sometimes.”
Amelia hangs up on me. Fuck.
Chapter Seven
The slamming of the front door echoes throughout the condo. I will not cry, no, no more crying. Only it happens, I’m on the floor again, crying with body wracking shudders over his words. Words I’ve heard from other bullies, taunting me about my ill-fitting, cheap clothes. Growing up, my clothes came from discount and charity stores, and it’s a hard habit to break. It was rare for me to buy clothes in the nicer stores because they were so expensive. I did buy my work clothes brand new, to prevent embarrassment, but my work wardrobe was thin. Just three pairs of pants and only five different blouses. In working as a cleaner, I hadn’t thought for one minute about what my clothes looked like. I should have known Ethan wouldn’t let me forget.
Another sob tears through me as I remember the disdain in his eyes. Damn him! He can’t do this to me, send me into tears every day. I can’t let him do this, if I do then I might as well walk out now, because he wins. The idea of letting him win gives me the strength to get up, he can’t win, he’s already won too often.
Teeth clenched tight, I begin to clean on autopilot. I ignore the perfume clinging to the jacket Ethan wore yesterday. Tears flare up again in his bathroom and bedroom, blinking around them, I continue to clean robotically. The day passes in a lethargic blur until I’m finished. I’m about to leave, not bothering with dinner because food doesn’t interest me, and he’ll be at a party after work, when my phone rings.
Amelia’s high sweet voice asks me how my day went. Damn it, I start crying all over again. Patiently, through me hiccupping out the tears, she gets the story of this morning out of me. For the first time ever, I hear Amelia swear harshly. She tells me to stay where I am, she’ll be over to get me. Still out of sorts, I do as I’m told.
Time passes without me paying attention. I’m still trying to calm down from talking to Amelia. I only realize time has passed when I’m jarred by her shaking my arm. “Come on, we are going to show his dumbass. Then I’ll consider whether or not I’ll forgive him, or over-starch his shirts for a week.”
“Go where?”
“To get you all decked out.” I’m being pulled up toward the door. The offensive check is still where it landed this morning.
Stopping at the door to the kitchen
, I point at the check. “Aren’t the banks closed, to cash it?”
Amelia grabs the check and hands it to me. I take it and fold it before putting it in my wallet. “This is on me. I got you into this situation of dealing with my asshole brother and putting up with his rude ass. I owe you.”
“No way, it’s not your fault your brother is an ass. I already owe you for getting me this job.”
Pushing me out the door, Amelia locks up and grabs my hand, pulling me after her. “Okay, fine. The reason I’m paying is I don’t want you getting all freaked about spending money, because we aren’t going shopping to just any place.
“I love you, Holly, but you hide your assets and you do have them. You have the body of one of the rap video chicks, a nice round booty and breasts men love. Sure, you aren’t a size eight—no big deal, men would still totally do you. You just have to dress better, not covering up everything, it actually makes you look heavier. To do it right, we’re going to have to spend some money. Where we are going, they have the clothes in your size that will make you look awesome. Trust me on this.”
In the cab, she gives the name of a store I flinch at. I’ve only been there once and that was just to go through to the other side. Fuck, Amelia wasn’t kidding.
She is dragging me into the store. Letting me go, she puts her hands on her hips. “Holly Messina, you stop this right now. I have gads of money. Ethan worked out my salary and my plastic mother is rich. If I don’t spend the money on you, it will just be on something else others will consider wasteful. This won’t be wasteful, it’s the right thing to do.”
Turning meek, in the face of her commanding nature that reminds me of Ethan, I follow her in. We go up an escalator and some distance before Amelia is stopped by a girl of about eighteen who is indecently tall and thin. “I want Tilly, go get me Tilly.”
I pretend not to be with the demanding Amelia. The girl disappears as Amelia taps her Jimmy Choo heels. Not long later, a woman I presume is Tilly appears. The woman is smiling, and hugs Amelia, I want to say she is Asian. Then she starts speaking and I recognize her accent is Filipino. I’m trying to sink into the floor as they talk about me.
