by Amber Burns
“Does the proposition upset you that much?” Jenna was saying, or trying to say; her tongue had become heavy with alcohol, and the words fell out thickly, the syllables slurring together.
“Oh,” I said, her slurred disappointment dragging my eyes away from the body of the latex clad girl flinging herself across a man and back to the conversation at hand. “Well. I mean… you know… I am certainly preoccupied with a lot of prospects at the moment,” I decided upon, for between holding on to my job as CEO, pleasing the owner of the company and also satisfying my own personal needs, I was definitely more than a bit preoccupied. Not to mention the fact that I was currently literally wrestling with the thoughts that were leaping through my mind. Reason and fact were telling me sternly that I did not and could not ever go further than what had transpired with a girl like Molly. And yet some other, darker, less tamable thing was screaming from the back corners of my mind. Somehow kissing Molly had been different than kissing any girl ever before. I screamed that not only could I go further, but that if I did not, this part of me might take control and cause me to lose all sanity.
I cleared my throat and repeated myself.
“Very, very preoccupied,” I said, trying to will my thoughts to stop battling, to stop conjuring up pictures of Molly and her glasses sliding down her face as her pink lips tangled with my own.
The tipsy, heavily powdered face before me wagged itself up and down.
“Oh, yes, of course, of course, of course,” Jenna slurred, reaching out a clumsy hand to paw at my sleeve. “We both know just how busy of a man you are, what with being a fabulous CEO and all, of course, honey,” she said, tapping at the man beside her with her glass of rose.
He continued to nod his head. I wasn’t sure if was he really in this much agreement with every word this woman said or if this was this just something that he did all day, every day, as constantly and subconsciously as breathing. I decided I did not want to hang around these two long enough to find out.
“Well, it has been truly great catching up with you and discussing investment prospects,” I announced with all the honey in the world dripping from my lies. “But I do have to attend to the music! My silly assistant keeps spoiling the mood with songs from the eighties. But what can we do? I shall remedy that! As for you two, keep the drinks flowing!”
And before the nearly wasted Jenna Havelock and her perpetually nodding human prop could utter any more drunken, slurred casualties, I stepped backward and allowed the moving throng of giggling blondes to conceal me from their view and sweep me away to a somewhat private corner of the floor. There I slipped past the remainder of velvet-clad asses and nearly naked tits and pushed my way down the narrow, empty janitor hallway. I wedged myself between the cleaning staff’s washroom and the broom closet and there, nestled in the dingiest, unlit corner of the mansion, allowed my mind to really run through the actual logistics of what my subconscious, impulse self was proposing.
“So… marrying Molly,” I whispered to myself as I crouched against the corner.
The music thrummed from the dance floor, seeping into the hallway and gently shaking the floors that I crouched against. A tiny spider spiraled down from the ceiling, a length of silk extending from its small, dark body. It hung in the air, swaying before my face.
“What do you think?” I asked it. It seemed to eye me for a moment, then suddenly shot back upwards toward the ceiling as if eager to escape me and my questions. “Yea, I definitely do not blame you, little buddy,” I said, rubbing at my face with my hands.
I glanced at the light that bathed the entrance to the hallway in gold. A woman passed by, the gentle curves of her body accentuated by the thin, pale pink slip that clung to her shape. I sighed and pressed my fingers against my eyes. And finally, finally, I succeeded in making the part of me that was screaming for Molly’s touch effectively shut the fuck up.
“Okay,” I said, my breathing returning to normal, my brain feeling less cloudy. “Okay. How the fucking hell am I going to marry Molly?”
I rubbed at my closed eyes as if backing myself into a corner and cowering with my hands over my eyes would make the fact that I would have to follow through with the marriage any less true than it obviously was. What other choice did I have? Try and find someone else within a week? There was no other option. Meeting a woman like Molly, so modest, sober, plain looking and boring, was a one in ten thousand chance itself. When you took into consideration my lifestyle and the people who I frequently associated with; Molly was a complete anomaly in my life. Up until this point, I had probably come across two girls ever that had been as boring and bland and “appropriate” as Molly was. Finding another girl like that within five days was as likely as getting hit by a meteorite.
“Speaking of which,” I mumbled to myself, rubbing still at my tightly squeezed closed eyes. “Getting hit by a meteorite sounds a lot more appetizing right about now….”
“What about a meteorite?”
The voice caused me to jump several feet into the air and smack my head off of the side corner of the wall. When I had again landed upon my feet, I found my eyes had fallen upon Molly. She stood next to me in the hallway, her hands timidly clutching at each other, her eyes peeking at me from behind the thick lenses of her oversized glasses. I placed a hand on my chest and took a deep breath.
“Holy fucking shit, Molly,” I said, my words coming out harshly. I felt instantly angry that she had found me here, especially because I had been seeking refuge from, well, her and the idea of her. I shook my head, trying to shake away the irritation and the shock of being surprised at the end of a dark hallway. “What the hell,” I exhaled, straightening my collar and yanking habitually at the pressed cuffs of my suit. “Please,” I then added, fixing her with a serious look. “Do not sneak up on me and scare me like that in the future.”
Molly’s cheeks flushed a light pink, a seemingly constant for her, and she tucked her chin into her chest, nodding quickly. She somehow succeeding in making herself resemble a small rabbit.
“I am sorry, sir,” she said. “Really and truly, I am sorry. I just…” she glanced behind her, down the darkened hallway, where the light from the crowded party flashed across the stone walls. “They just….” she looked back again as several people began to laugh shrieking, raucous laughter.
She glanced at me nervously and swallowed, then glanced again at the light that bathed the entrance to the hallway in pale exuberance. I was becoming impatient. First, the woman had snuck up on me and scared the living daylights out of me. Then she did not even have the integrity to tell me what was so important that she had to stalk me down a hallway in order to come and tell me? I huffed out impatiently and fixed her with an irritated look. The truth of the matter was that I was not, actually, mad at her; I was fucking seething with anger at myself. I had just, just succeeded in quieting the part of me that was screaming lustily about this girl. This girl that looked as if she belong behind a library desk. This girl who was nothing like any other woman I had ever wanted to speak to, let alone push down into a pile of feathers and nearly have sex with. My cheeks burned red, and my eyes shot daggers at Molly as she stood, gripping her hands against her breasts. I tried not to let my eyes follow the gentle curve of her hip beneath the gray material of her dress. The fact that I failed succeeded in making me even angrier. I could not understand how the hell my brain and body were reacting this way to this woman. I did not even care about the fact that I had shed my normally carefully cultivated facial expressions. I was past that point. Now, I was irritated, fucking pissed at myself, and totally overwhelmed.
“Okay,” I said, done with the niceties. “I am not impressed. I was already extremely perturbed by the fact that you so rudely interrupted my private … erm, hallway moment… and now you are going to stand there blubbering and failing to explain to me what it is that is so very important that you feel the right to interrupt me? Well?”
Molly’s eyes kept shifting anxiously behind the thick frame
s she wore perched upon the bridge of her nose. She poked a shaking finger at the lenses and jabbed them slightly back up her face.
“Well?” I repeated, growing truly angry now.
The girl shivered in front of me, her eyes seeming to droop behind the frames, her cheeks growing paler and paler now as her lips wavered and flapped before me. I tried to hide all attractions I had possibly been feeling (or rather, telling myself I definitely could not be feeling) from my face.
“Molly!” I yelped, taking a frustrated step forward. “Can you please use your words and explain to me, right now, what the fuck is going on!”
Molly looked to the room behind her, and then again looked to me. And that was when her eyes rolled back in her head, and she passed out.
I leaped forward just as her limp body was about to touch the floor. I snapped up her head beneath my hands mere seconds before it made contact with the hard concrete. I stared down at her expressionless face, my heart thundering in my chest and my body rushing with the adrenaline of the moment. I took a breath then and used my adept core and leg muscles to lift her back up to a standing position. Her limp body slapped helplessly against my own.
“Oh, fuck,” I muttered.
I stood there in the hallway with her for a moment, her knocked out form flopped against mine. I suddenly became very aware of what this situation might look like to someone who might drunkenly wander down the hallway. That thought made me move fast. Without a further thought, I scooped Molly up into my arms and headed back towards the light that spilled in off of the dance floor.
As I reached the end of the hallway, I stood sideways, guarding Molly from view with my broad shoulders. I peeked right and then left, surveying the population of grinding, slurring, touching guests that laughed and blinked heavily upon the dance floor. After several moments of looking quickly around the mess of intoxicated, scantily dressed people, I had devised the best possible route of travel. I took a breath and plunged forward, my shoulders bent in towards Molly’s limp body, hoping to conceal her from the gossip hungry eyes of the party attendees.
I weaved in and out of the party, ducking behind the champagne fountain that sat at the center of the room. I edged around the banquet tables, using their flowing rose gold silk coverings to my advantage to help me protect Molly’s limp from the many eyes in the room. Finally, I made it across the room and slipped into the darkness that shrouded the dimly lit opposite hallway. Away from the drunken guests, I raced up the several flights of stairs towards the upper floor of the building, the penthouse. I needed to get to the room I usually opted to sleep in on wild nights such as this.
I was raising my foot to kick open the door when something caught my eye. Out of the corner of my eye, a blur of black and white movement made me lower my foot and turn.
The elderly housekeeper, Gloria, was crouched near the floor at the end of the hall, picking a broken bottle from the threads of the small carpet that acted as an entrance to her bedroom. Her eyes locked with mine and I quickly made up my mind.
“Hey, Gloria,” I called, as quietly as I could, so as not to disturb the other sleeping housekeepers whose rooms lined the end of the hallway, “I am sorry to bother you at this hour. But do you think you could give me a hand?” I glanced from the girl who flopped about in my arms to the closed door and then back up to Gloria again.
The old woman carefully placed the broken bottle back down upon the carpeting and leaped up with impressive agility.
“Oh, yes, Mister Nikko,” she said, rushing across the long hallway. “Of course, of course.”
When she reached my side, she came to a stop. She stared down at Molly, her arms and legs hanging limply from my body.
“It is not what it looks like,” I said suddenly, realizing how awful a picture this situation was probably painting for the elderly housekeeper. “I think someone slipped something awful into her drink,” I confided, dropping my voice to the edges of a whisper. “And, if you don’t mind, I could use your help getting her into bed and into safety. Because between you and me, and please do keep this confidential, I do not trust most of the people who are down there drinking right now.” I let out breath, which I had not realized I was holding in, come rushing out of my mouth.
Gloria nodded knowingly and glanced down the stairs, her lips twisted with distaste.
“Mister Nikko,” she said, placing a small hand softly upon my arm. “I did not for one second think that this was anything but an act of chivalry. You ought to realize that I know you better than that!” And with a wink, the older woman swung open the door and led the way into the bedroom.
I rushed in, Molly’s unconscious form lolling in my arms. I placed Molly lightly upon the freshly made bed that sat in the center of the room as Gloria busied herself turning on all of the lights. Then I quickly doubled back, stuck my head out of the doorway and glanced both ways. The coast was clear. It seemed that, luckily, the alcohol and drug imbibed guests had not seen my quick dash up and away with an unconscious girl lying limply in my arms.
I turned back to face the room and sighed as I saw that Gloria had tucked Molly safely and comfortably beneath the covers. She stood upright and brushed her hands along her old fashioned apron.
“All set then, Mister Nikko?” she asked in her pleasant, warbling voice.
I nodded and then, instinctively, threw my arms around the tiny housekeeper.
“Thank you so much, Gloria,” I said. The older woman teetered slightly and then slipped out of my embrace. With a small bob of her head, she pulled open one of the double doors.
“Good night, Mister Nikko,” she said, and then she paused. “You have done the right thing,” she added, and then she slipped out of the room and down the hall towards her own bed.
Satisfied and relieved, I pulled the door closed and twisted the lock. Then I turned and faced the girl that lay, still absolutely unconscious and unmoving, upon the bed. I ran my fingers over my face as I considered the woman that lay before me. What had happened? What the fuck was going on? It was all so strange. She had rushed down the hallway, shocked me, startled me, and angered me. She had been beyond flustered, and then promptly passed out. I shook my head as I ran over the evening’s events in my mind. First, Molly’s forgotten hiring, then being delivered the discouraging and unbelievable news that in order to keep my job I must announce my engagement to a “respectable” woman by the end of the week, and now, this?
“Absolutely un-fucking-believable,” I sighed, still running my hands tiredly over my face. “Now what the hell am I supposed to do?”
I walked back and forth along the foot of the bed for several long moments, every few steps glancing over at the motionless form of Molly’s unconscious body. After many minutes of pacing back and forth, I impulsively bent forward and pressed my fingers lightly against her neck, searching for a pulse. Molly’s heart beat answered back; it thrummed softly against my touch. I released a stream of breath and gently traced the shape of her cheekbones and smoothed her dark hair back away from her brow. I watched her for a moment, and guilt filled my stomach. I had thought of her as a shy, unassuming girl, overwhelmed at the fact that my fingers had slipped beneath her dress. My cheeks reddened, and I bit at my lip, shaking my head. That had been a rash assumption for me to make, deciding that this smart, responsible woman would rush away from her work to declare her love for me after nothing more than a little bit of fucking around. I felt stupid, schoolboyish even. She had been trying to tell me something, clearly something important, but what? I pulled my fingers away from her hair and walked around the bed to perch myself on the edge of the foot of the bed, gently resting myself down so as not to disturb Molly. I ran my hands up and down my thighs, wondering what I was going to do, and how I was going to explain to her what had happened.
And what had, in fact, happened? I had no idea. Had she just passed out from sheer exhaustion? Had the elaborate lights and the sheer amount of people overwhelmed this modest, quiet, boring girl to the point wh
ere it had caused her to pass the fuck out? Had she perhaps just been too tired, the long hours of the day getting to her, leading to her racing to find me, and then impulsively falling asleep on the spot in the dimness of the hallway? I glanced at her body, laid out carefully upon the carefully pressed bed. I tapped impatiently at my pants as they stretched over my thick thigh muscles, waiting for her, willing her, to wake up.
And as if she had somehow heard my very thoughts, Molly began to stir.
I jumped up as her foot twitched slightly beneath the covers that lay upon the bed. I watched with wide, anxious eyes as her fingers followed, moving slowly across her chest and gripping at each other in that way I had already recognized to be an accustomed, nervous action of hers. Her unpainted fingernails clutched at the pale flesh of her hands, and her head tipped itself back and forth, as if unable to decide which cheek it wished to rest upon. Her straight, dark hair slapped lightly at her cheeks, stray locks of chestnut browns tangling with the subtle patterns of the bedspread. That part of me, that hidden, unknown part that made me uncomfortable, rustled awake again and whispered a longing to reach out and wrap Molly in my arms. I resisted, but willed her, begged her, to open her eyes and speak to me. Finally, her lips parted, and her eyelashes began to flutter ever so slightly, tickling my imagination with the image of her eyes.
