by Lexi Aurora
Another one of Popper’s yips. Angel grabs the TV remote my hand’s inching for.
“C’mon, your idea is good, you know it is. An app that lets you enter in a list of ingredients you have on hand and then generates a delicious recipe? An app that you can use at home, at work, anywhere? It’s genius and you know it.”
In spite of myself, a smile is making its way onto my face, while my gaze is being irresistibly drawn to Angel’s beaming, high-cheekboned face.
“Maybe you’re right, but I don’t trust this Allan Dane.”
“You don’t have to trust him; you just have to try. Maybe it won’t work, but there’s no harm in trying.”
I stay silent. Truth be told, I can’t explain my exaggerated reticence myself. Why I think that, despite everything, there may be harm in trying at all, that there’s something about Allan Dane... Something about his ridiculous good looks, easy smile, and extended gaze that make me uneasy.
“Eva,” Angel says, “Don’t make me give you the speech.”
I sigh, hold out my hand.
“Can you just give me the remote, please?”
Now Angel’s on her feet.
“Eva Angelica Lynn. Look around you. We are two people living in a 300-square-foot apartment in New York City, the most expensive city in the world. We have been trying, unsuccessfully, for over a year to save enough for a flat-screen TV to replace our bipolar, slowly dying, beast of a box TV. We trade cookies to the woman a few units down in exchange for her walking Popper, since we can’t afford an actual dog walker. Your father is in the shittiest nursing home New York has. If you have the slightest smallest hint of a chance at improving this situation and you don’t go for it, I’ll throw you out the window myself.”
“It only opens halfway,” I remind her, and we crack up.
Angel pokes me in the side.
“I’m serious. I’m not going to let this rest.”
I sigh. By now, I know Angel well enough to know that she’s not kidding. After all, I wouldn’t only do the same for her, I have. I was the one who’d convinced her not to drop out of school after her brother died. I was the one who had stood at her door, banging on it and yelling until she’d let me in and I’d said my piece. Not to mention that Angel and I have been best friends since we could walk and talk. So, the chances of her letting this rest are just about zero.
“Fine, Angel. I’ll go tomorrow, okay? Now please, hand me the remote.”
The rest of the night, we veg out in front of the TV—Angel, Popper, and me, chips and Vampire Diaries galore. I just about completely forget about Allan Dane. That is, until nighttime.
I wake up back in there, the restaurant: Picklebucket, with its hideous red plastic booths and, yes, Allan Dane. He’s wearing the same gray suit as before, the same intense stare.
This time, however, after he’s given me his business card and walked away, I slump into the booth to find myself right beside him. He’s in the booth next to me, laughing.
“You think I’d let you go that easily?”
Next thing I know his hand is on my thigh, under the table.
“What are you doing?”
I gape at him, but he only laughs.
“What you want me to.”
His hand is moving higher and higher as he speaks.
“You knew my reputation, and it excited you; it was written all over your face. You want this.”
I’m trying to move, but my body isn’t cooperating, only trembling with pleasure at his touch, his words.
You’re wrong, is what I intend to say, but what comes out is “You’re right.”
The restaurant is dead silent, and yet the customers are still here, the table of tourists from before; Geno must be somewhere too. I turn to Allan.
“What about my boss?”
Just then, Geno appears beside me. He’s sitting on my other side, and I’m wedged between them, Geno and Allan. Geno’s hip is digging into me, his voice, a singsong refrain.
“The customer’s always right. The customer’s always right.”
By now, Allan Dane’s hand is on my pussy. Over my pants, he strokes expertly, enjoying my discomfort with a pitiless grin. I jerk my head to the rest of the restaurant, which is packed.
“But we’re in the middle of the restaurant.”
Allan gives his chiseled head a nod.
“I can take care of this.”
With one swift sideways flick of his hip, he bops me to the side into Geno, who’s sent sprawling on the floor.
As I gasp out apologies, Geno lolls out on the floor, grinning that horrible fake grin of his.
“The customer’s always right. The customer’s always right.”
Now, Allan Dane is shoving me out of the booth too. We step on Geno, and Allan rips open my blouse, tears it off, and tosses it to the table of cheering tourists.
“The best dish! No burn!”
Already Allan’s tracing the edges of my bra with his lips, his fingers following close behind. I’m rooted to the spot, terrified, and yet, undeniably aroused. We’re still standing on Geno, and when Allan rips down my pants, they fall on Geno’s flabby belly. Allan’s taking me in with a starving look.
“God, you’re lucky I waited this long to do this.”
And then his lips are proving the truth of his words, plastering over mine, his tongue continuing the dance, the round and round, the flick and slide, the in and out, the onward rhythm that can’t be stopped—won’t be.
When Allan picks me up and shoves me onto the table, he rips my pants off all the way so I’m in just my underwear and apron. Allan grabs my chin, speaking right into my face.
“Turn around.”
And, the most shocking thing of all, is that I do.
I turn around and he spanks me, so hard that it resounds around the room, sending the table of tourists into a fit of boisterous applause. At his next ass strike, he grabs my panties and pulls them down. I’m moaning and he’s groaning too, his hands delighting in my bare flesh.
“Jesus, these curves of yours.”
My bra is the next to go, flung behind somewhere, gone. I don’t care now. The worst has happened. No longer am I afraid of Allan continuing; now I’m afraid of him stopping.
He shoves me around again, so my bare back’s on the table and I’m staring up as he engulfs my nipple with his mouth. Oh fuck, does it feel good. As if that wasn’t enough, his hand slides down, giving my other breast a squeeze, then farther down, over my belly, then farther, over my landing strip. Then, his hand’s on my pussy lips, then between them, timing his fingering perfectly to his sucking, in then out, round then round. Now my moans are almost shrieks, and he’s burying his face between my boobs, rocking himself back and forth, motorboating me to ecstasy. When he’s done, he’s gasping, ripping down his own pants, his briefs coming with it. And, just as he presses himself to me, just as I feel how thick and hard he is, just as he shoves himself into me and my whole body explodes into pleasure, he barks.
We both freeze, then he licks me, barks again. As I stare at him, Popper’s head pops up where his face was. As I scream, I wake up.
Angel’s in the doorway with a frying pan held high.
“What the hell?”
I take one look at Popper’s tongue-wagging face as he stands on my still-clothed body.
“It was just a dream.”
Angel lets out a big sigh of relief.
“I thought it was...” She takes a dubious look at the rusty old frying pan still gripped in her hand, then shakes her head. “I don’t know what I thought.”
We exchange a glance, then burst out laughing. Angel comes to the edge of my bed and plops down.
“That must have been some dream—you tossed and turned your whole comforter off.”
I looked at the fallen, crumpled-up thing on the floor, nodding without saying anything. Nope, that dream is one thing I’m not admitting to—not ever.
With a heave, I throw myself out of bed.
“
I’m going to go.”
“What, now?”
I glance at the clock. It’s only 7 a.m., but I have to get ready and get over there too, after all.
“Yep—first stop Allan Dane’s office. Dibs on the bathroom.”
And then I’m in there, having escaped to the shower. In the tall, tiny box, I still manage to revel in the warm droplets and my now certainty. I’m not going to let some twisted erotic dream dissuade me from what I have to do. No, Angel was right. This wasn’t just for myself anymore or even for showing Geno; it was for the people I loved. Angel. Popper. Dad. I owe it to them to at least try, whatever the consequences. Though, as I step out of the shower and stare at my still-flushed face, something tells me that the consequences of what I’m about to do are even more serious than I can imagine.
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PREVIEW: Wrong Job by Lexi Aurora
Chapter 1: Violet
“WHY THE HELL ARE YOU here at six in the morning?” Amanda asked as I walked into the office, my hair a mess, trying to straighten in the mirror on the elevator before it got to the sixth floor. I was completely frazzled, having woken up late, and had almost missed the early morning train that took me to the office.
“I have some stuff to catch up on,” I said, hanging my jacket up on the rack and rushing into the office that I shared as an office secretary with my friend Amanda. “Why are you here?”
“I’m always here this early,” Amanda said. “But not to work.”
“I can’t believe you sneak into Dirk’s personal shower in the morning,” I said, laughing as I sat down at my desk. Amanda shrugged.
“What the boss doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” she said. “It has the best water pressure, girl, you have to try it.”
I laughed and pulled out the file I had been working on the day before, eager to finish highlighting and separating out the dates of the cases before the CEO arrived. Dirk was a mean man, always on my ass, but I did my best not to let him get to me. I had wanted to work at this advertising agency since I’d learned about it in school, and was desperate to make a good impression on the boss.
“You really need to take it easy,” said Amanda, watching me as I filed through the papers, focused intently on my work. I glanced up at my friend, shaking my head.
“You really need to get some work done,” I told her. She laughed, sitting at her own desk, kicking off her shoes and putting her feet up on the wood. I shook my head, no longer surprised when she started painting her toenails a cherry red right there at the desk.
“Are you—”
“I have to get this finished, Amanda,” I said desperately, cutting her words off with a look. She shrugged and continued what she was doing. I heard a door open then and my heart started to pound in my chest, knowing that Dirk was here and would be ready to look over my work. He had told me the day before that he wanted to meet with me this morning, and I could only hope that it meant he was giving me the promotion I had been working my ass off to get for weeks.
I waited for a few tense moments, holding my breath until Dirk appeared in the door of the office I shared with Amanda. He knocked on it, smiling at me with an advertiser’s smile, not at all genuine.
“Can I see you in my office for a moment, Violet?” he asked. I swallowed, standing up and straightening my skirt. I smiled at him.
“Of course,” I said, and he gestured for me to follow him out of the office. I exchanged an excited glance with Amanda, who gave me two thumbs up as we left.
Inside Dirk’s office, I sat down on the chair across from his desk, perched nervously at the edge as I waited for him to speak.
“Want some coffee?” he asked.
“No, no thank you,” I said, too nervous to drink anything. He smiled at me.
“Come on, Violet. You look like you need a cup of coffee.”
“Okay,” I said, not wanting to argue with him. It seemed to take him an excruciatingly long time to pour us both a mug. He handed it to me and I thanked him for it, but my hands were shaking too badly for me to hold it without sloshing coffee over the rim. I set it down and looked at Dirk expectantly.
“What did you need from me, Mr. Jasper?” I asked him. He stared at me, rubbing his hand over his mouth.
“I’m reassigning you to a new position. I think that your skills will be more of use there.”
“Oh,” I said, finding myself smiling. “Oh, that’s great, Mr. Jasper.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I’m so glad that you’re not disappointed with the news.”
“Why would I be disappointed?” I asked, suddenly wary.
“Well,” he said. “I know it might seem like a demotion, but—”
“I’m getting demoted?” I asked, a sinking feeling in my stomach. “Why?”
“You’re not getting demoted, Violet. I’m just reassigning you to work with Patricia.”
“Oh,” I said. I had heard about Patricia, how temperamental she was, how much she sucked up to Dirk and the other board members. She was the head company manager, not a board member, and being her secretary was certainly a demotion from my current job.
“Can I ask why?” I asked him.
He cleared his throat.
“Certainly. I have found somebody to take your place. I just think that I would work better with somebody else.”
“Did I do something wrong?” I asked him blankly. He waved the question away.
“Of course not,” he said. “I just think this girl is better equipped to my working style. Known her a long time. Her father’s a good friend of mine.”
“Oh,” I said dully, trying not to show the disgust and anger that bubbled within me at the words. “I see.”
He stood up then, reaching forward to shake my hand.
“I’m so glad you understand,” he said with that bright smile that I wanted to slap off of his face. “It has been good working with you. I think you’re really going to like Patricia. She’s a character.”
“Yeah,” I said. “A character.”
“She’s waiting for you now. Thank you again for all your help.”
“Sure,” I said, leaving the office without thanking him back or wishing he’d have a good day. What I really wished in that moment was that he would fall and break his leg—I had earned that job, worked for it every moment since I’d started school, and now it was being given to some girl just because she had a personal connection to the CEO. My body was tense, my fists clenched at my sides as I went into the office that I shared with Amanda. She frowned at the look on my face.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, standing up.
“I got demoted.”
She stared at me, her mouth open in shock.
“I thought you were getting promoted.”
“I did too,” I said, moving around to my desk, haphazardly throwing my things into a box to transfer to the fourth floor of the building. “He’s sending me to work with Patricia. Said he found someone else to do my job.”
“Who?” Amanda asked. I shrugged.
“A friend’s daughter. Some girl who probably doesn’t have half the experience,” I said, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice. Amanda put her hand on my arm, then wrapped me in a hug.
“I’m so sorry, babe,” she said. “I’ll clog up his shower next time. Stuff handfuls of hair into it. It’ll cost him a fortune to get it fixed.”
I had to laugh. “Nah, the cost of that is nothing compared to what he makes.”
“I know,” Amanda said. “But it will annoy him.”
“That’s a good point,” I said, grinning. She hugged me again and I pulled away, telling her goodbye before leaving the office and making my way to the elevator. I waited for the doors to open, holding my breath, and once I was inside and it started to move I let out a soft scream of frustration. I felt like pulling my hair out, like I had worked for nothing. I managed to pull my face into a smile as the elevator door opened, a
nd I made my way through the lobby and down the hall to Patricia’s office. I knocked on the door and her sharp voice called out for me to come in. I took a deep breath before I did so, holding my box on my hip, opening the door to see Patricia sitting at her desk.
“I don’t have an office for you. Your desk is over there,” the woman said, gesturing over to a small wooden desk that was barely larger than a computer table.
“Thank you,” I said to her, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. “I’m—”
“I know who you are. Violet Ingrid. And you know who I am. No need for introductions.”
“Oh,” I said. “I—”
“Listen,” the woman said, picking up her purse from the floor, opening it, and pulling out a twenty-dollar bill. “Go downstairs and bring me a large Americano. I just want it black. Two sugars.”
“What?” I asked dumbly as she thrust the money at me.
“Quickly,” she said. I felt numb as I took the bill, turning around, in shock at her rudeness as I left the office. I went downstairs, waiting in line to buy her coffee. I tapped my foot on the ground impatiently, feeling like I was going to scream. I looked at the front door, wishing desperately that I could go outside, take the day off and just go home and wallow. But I had no choice other than to get Patricia her coffee, so when it was my turn to order, I did so in a blank, even tone, just wanting to get it over with.
I brought the coffee back upstairs to Patricia, who didn’t even look at me as she swept out of the room.
“Do some dusting, would you?” she asked on her way out. “It’s bothering my allergies.”
I gritted my teeth, about to open my mouth to protest when she shut the door behind her. I sighed and got to work, knowing that there was nothing else that I could do. It was a few hours later before she showed up again, almost time for me to leave for the day. I picked up my bag and put it over my shoulder.
“Goodnight, Patricia,” I said to her, trying to hurry out the door.
“Wait a moment, Violet, I need you to do one more thing for me,” Patricia said. I gave a deep sigh, not trying to hide how annoyed I was.
“What?”
