by Nella Tyler
"It's not like I'm treating you like a hooker, Molly," he said with a slight laugh. "Come on over here and let's have some more fun. I guarantee that you’ll remember every second."
His words, instead of mollifying me, elicited a surge of indignant anger. The arrogant ass! I stomped my foot in frustration. "You're not paying me for that!” I sputtered. “And if you think I'm some cheap slut willing to fall into bed with anybody who sends me a come hither look or plies me with alcohol and seduces me-"
He sat up, his expression serious. "Molly, I didn't purposely seduce you. I didn't purposely provide you with alcohol so that I could have my way with you. It just happened! I wasn't planning on it, but let's face it, you're gorgeous. I…" he glanced down at the sheet covering his privates. Another curve of his lips. "We find you incredibly attractive. I didn't even distinguish between the fact that you were my maid and I'm your employer. I'm attracted to you as a man attracted to a woman. Our positions and job descriptions don't have anything to do with what happened last night."
I stared at him for several moments, wavering between anger, indignation, and, of course, the underlying desire for him that continued to surge through my blood. Every area in my body tingled. What the hell? Still, despite my hangover, my common sense prevailed this morning. I had made a mistake last night, a mistake that I wasn't particularly looking forward to repeating again, although the pleasure I had received was undeniable.
"Luke," I said, shaking my head. "I don't want to lead you on, and I don't want to give you any ammunition to have me fired-"
"I'm not going to fire you for sleeping with me," he said. “Think of it as a bonus?” He laughed and moved to sit up.
I held out my hand, stopping him. "Don't bother. Like I said, you're not paying for me to sleep with you. You're paying me to be your maid. As a matter of fact, you don't need to pay me today at all, because I'm taking the day off!"
"Molly-"
I sputtered with indignation. How could he think that I was such an easy mark? Did he think I was naïve or, worse yet, stupid? My feelings and emotions were so confused I didn't even know what to think. On some level, I was tempted to rejoin him in the bed. It would be nice to remember everything we had shared the previous evening. Still, on another, I was hurt by his callous regard for my emotions and me. His pompous attitude that I was so willing to fall into bed with him, like I was nothing more than a simpering female, made my blood boil.
I glared at him for several moments, noted his startled expression, but didn't care. If he was too dense to realize how his words had come across, I certainly wasn't going to take the time to explain it to him. I turned to leave the room.
"Molly! I didn't mean it that way-"
A twinge of regret surged through me as I once again reach for the doorknob and opened the door. Were his protestations out of regret or just another ploy to get me to fall back into bed with him? That was just the problem. I wasn't sure. His callous disregard of the situation, my feelings, and what he had said and the way he said it disturbed me. Was he really that conceited?
Was that all I had been to him last night? A bit of fun? A sexual release? A challenge overcome? Not that I had offered him much of a challenge. I shook my head. A sexual fling obviously didn't mean anything to him, but it did to me! I wasn't in the habit of just falling into bed with any good-looking guy I came across. The fact that I had slept with him at all was still a surprise, and one that I needed to analyze and contemplate.
As I stepped through the doorway, he called out after me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him getting out of bed. I stopped, pointing my finger in his direction. "Don't get up, Luke. Stay right where you are. I don't want to hear it!" Without waiting for any further comments, I blinked back my tears and quickly moved down the hallway, taking the steps downstairs quickly.
I paused in front of the living room doorway, saw the dress and underwear lying on the floor, and quickly moved to snatch at the underwear, stuffing them into my pants pocket. I picked up the dress, shook it out, quickly folded it, and left it on the arm of the sofa. He could keep his bloody dress. I wondered for the first time how many other women had worn it. Then, heading into the kitchen and the cupboard where I kept my purse, I snatched it and then made my way to the front door, my emotions roiling. A tear ran down my cheek. I angrily brushed it away as I reached for the front door.
"Molly!"
I turned to look over my shoulder and saw Luke standing at the top of the stairs, clutching the sheet around his waist.
"Molly, wait, let me explain," he said.
He took a step to come down the stairs and I quickly opened the door, slammed it shut behind me, and hurried to my car. I don't know why my emotions were in such turmoil, but I had to get away from the house and quickly. Would I be fired? I had, in no uncertain terms, told my boss that I was taking the day off and realized at that moment that I had no right to do so. Still, if that's what this job was going to entail, I wanted nothing to do with it.
As I quickly hurried to my car, pulled my car keys out of my purse, and unlocked the door, my hands started shaking. I climbed in, settled myself behind the wheel, and then, my hand still trembling, inserted the key into the ignition. Starting my car, I quickly threw it into reverse and out of my parking spot. As I headed down the driveway, I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Luke standing in the open doorway, staring after me.
I choked back a sob, my emotions so confused I felt lost. Was that all it took for me? A handsome face, a few drinks, and then I behaved like a common slut? And I had judged that other woman he was reputed to be hanging around with? What right did I have to throw stones when I was acting the same way? It didn't matter that I wasn't after his money. I had let my guard down, allowed myself to be enticed by nothing but superficial appearances.
The fact that just the thought of his firm pecs, narrow hips, and his sexual charisma made me tingle again wasn't at all comforting. How could I have allowed myself to be so easily swayed? I had standards or at least, I thought I had! I had never considered myself to be so easy, and my behavior disturbed me greatly. Maybe going to work for Luke Benning had been nothing but a huge mistake, one that would cost me dearly – emotionally, anyway.
I felt awful. I felt guilty, appalled, ashamed, and embarrassed. To make matters worse, I had lost my cool in front of Luke. I had never behaved in such a manner in my life, and my reaction to the situation had been even worse. I knew better. I had better control over myself, or so I thought.
The entire way back to my condo, I berated myself and more than once found that I was shaking my head in dismay. What in heaven's name had come over me? I had never been so sexually attracted to a man before. I supposed I couldn’t help my physical reaction, but I could certainly control my emotional one, couldn’t I? This was just wrong. This man was my boss. Here I was, at my first-ever job, and in less than a week I found myself sleeping with my employer! What the hell was the matter with me?
My first week on the job and I had made the biggest mistake ever. Not only had I slept with my boss, and enjoyed it from what I could remember, but I had yelled at him, told him that I was taking the day off, to not bother paying me. What had I been thinking? A maid didn't talk that way to her employer, regardless of the situation. I had a sinking feeling that my job as a maid was over before it had even begun. My grand experiment, my grand illusions, my grand intentions to show my father that I could stand on my own two feet was quickly crumbling around me, and I had no one to blame but myself.
I needed to talk to someone. The first person that popped into my head was my friend Samantha. Certainly she would understand. We knew each other inside out. Perhaps she could help me gain some perspective on what had happened and what I should do now. Should I apologize? Should I quit? I didn't know, but there was one thing I did. The sex between Luke and I had been sizzling, hot, and passionate. The fact that I had never felt that way about any guy before gave me pause. With regret, I realized that perhaps, if
we had met under different circumstances, he would have been an ideal match for me. Unfortunately, due to the situation, I could only surmise that any such relationship with him now would be not only inadvisable, but inappropriate.
I shook my head with regret. Figures. The one and only time that I had met a guy that I felt such an inmate and instinctual attraction to ended up being my boss, and I had already overstepped my bounds. I had a feeling that because of my reaction, justified though it was, I might never see him again. The thought left me feeling even more depressed and confused than I already was.
Chapter 2
By the time I got home, I felt more confused than ever. I needed to talk to someone. I needed to call Samantha. Before I called her, however, I wanted to refresh myself, so I quickly undressed and stepped into the shower. As I showered, I recalled what I could of the sex with Luke the previous evening. As a result, I couldn't stop the tingling in my nether regions that erupted. I reached for the warm water knob and adjusted it, thinking that what I needed was a good, cold shower.
By the time I stepped out of the shower, my teeth were chattering, but at least I had been distracted from thoughts of Luke. I toweled off my goosebumped skin and stepped into my bedroom. In a matter of minutes, I was dressed in an old, faded pair of jeans and a T-shirt. I pulled my multi-length and almost shoulder-length hair into a high ponytail. As usual, most of the hair fell out and framed my face, but I didn’t care. Samantha was used to my causal dress and hairstyles when we were out and about.
Only then did I step back into the living room of my condo and snatch my cell phone from my purse. I pressed my speed dial and waited. After two rings, the call was answered.
"Hey, Molly, how's it going?"
For a second I hesitated. What to say? "I guess it's going okay, but if you have time, I really need to talk to you about something."
"Uh-oh," she said. "You didn't get fired, did you?"
"I don't think so," I admitted.
Samantha said nothing for several seconds. "Okay, I don't have to be anywhere until this afternoon. Where and when?"
"Can you meet me at the park off Fifth Street in about a half hour?" I asked.
"Sure," she said. "I’ll stop and pick up some coffee on the way." Again, there was a brief silence. "You're not in any trouble, are you, Molly?"
I made a face. Why did she always think I was getting into trouble? "I'll take the fifth on that," I said. "I just need to talk to you, and you're the only person I can confide in."
"And don't you forget it," she said. "I'll see you soon."
The call disconnected and I put the phone back in my purse. Samantha was one of those people who was a good listener, didn't offer platitudes, and pretty much said it like it was, at least, when it came to her opinion. I knew that when I talked to her, I could count on her to really absorb what I was saying. Not only that, she was a straight shooter, and like it or not, when she offered her advice, it was how she truly felt. Not only that, but I knew she could keep a secret. Sometimes I thought of her as I would a priest taking confession. I could tell Samantha anything and I knew it would go no further. Of course, I tried to be the same way, but people rarely confided in me. That gave me pause, but I was too distracted to try and work that one out.
Even though Samantha and I were best friends, we didn’t always agree. Nevertheless, her advice was always well intentioned and she knew me so well that often I didn't have to go into a great detail about what I was thinking. We had been best friends so long we were probably closer than most sisters. Sometimes I didn't like the advice Samantha gave me, and vice versa, but we knew that when it came to each other, the advice, comments, and even criticisms were always dished out with love and the other person's best interests at heart.
*
I drove to the park, actually looking forward to a little bit of outside time. It wasn't very hot today and the sun wouldn't be too bright, making it a perfect morning to be out and about. I liked being outdoors, but didn't get a chance to go hiking or just sit out at the park very often anymore. I always looked forward to it, though, because it gave me a chance to defrag, so to speak, to reboot.
There was nothing more relaxing to me than sitting outdoors listening to the birds chirp, the squirrels chatter away, watch the breeze ruffle through tree branches, and smile at the clouds floating overhead. Being outside and just clearing my mind and focusing on nature around me always made me feel so much better. I didn't feel pressured.
Unfortunately, my thoughts this morning were dark and confused, so by the time I got to the park, climbed out of my car, and meandered over to a park bench in the shade of an old oak tree, my thoughts were roiling again with uncertainty, doubt, and even fear. Several minutes later, I saw Samantha's car pull into the parking lot on this side of the park, our favorite place. She spotted my car and pulled up right next to it. She got out and headed toward me, carrying two cardboard cups of coffee.
"Caramel mocha for you, white chocolate latte for me," she smiled.
She sat down on the bench next to me. For several moments, we just sipped our coffee, appreciating the cool, mid morning breeze. I wasn't certain how I would broach the topic of discussion this morning, but I knew that she would understand and be able to offer me some good advice. While she sometimes disapproved of my actions, she was never condescending or cruel. I counted on that, especially this morning.
"Okay, spill.”
I glanced at her and tried to delay by taking another sip of my coffee.
"Molly…"
She stared at me, all serious now, her expression slowly transforming into one of worry.
"Molly, what did you do?"
I frowned. "I didn't do anything!"
"Then why the emergency session?"
I sighed. "I'll tell you, but please let me get it all out and don't interrupt until I'm finished, okay?" She gave me an odd look. "I mean it, Samantha. If you interrupt me, I probably won't be able to continue, and I really need to get it out. I need your advice!"
"Agreed," she sighed. "I'll try my best not to interrupt."
"Okay," I nodded. "Well I guess I should start at the beginning. When I got to Luke's house-"
"Luke's house?" she immediately interrupted.
"Samantha! You promised!"
Samantha slapped a hand over her mouth and apologized. "Sorry, Molly, but you've gone from Mister Benning to Luke in less than a week?"
I frowned and sought to retain my patience. "Samantha, I know you're going to have a million questions, but again, can you please let me just get this out?" I felt the warmth of tears burning my eyes and Samantha saw them, as well. She placed a hand on my knee.
"I'm sorry, Molly, really. I'll try…go ahead."
"Well I guess one of the most pertinent things to mention before he even gets started is to tell you that Luke Benning is one of the hottest guys I've ever met." Samantha didn't say anything, but her eyes grew wide. I could just imagine what was going through her head. To keep from asking a question, she lifted her coffee cup to her lips and sipped, and then gestured with her hand for me to continue.
I dove right in, telling Samantha everything that had happened from my first day working for Luke, the way he had stared at me to the point that it was beginning to creep me out, and then of his bold invitation to visit the backyard, the swimming pool, the drinks… At that point Samantha opened her mouth to speak. I scowled and shook my head, and once again she slapped her hand over her mouth. She was already slowly shaking her head and had rolled her eyes twice. She gestured for me to continue. I did so, hesitantly, finishing up by telling her pretty much how the rest of the week had gone, and of course, of Luke's asking me out on a date.
I had to pause at that point. I sipped my own coffee, grown lukewarm by now, hesitating to continue. I could tell Samantha was already shocked and showing some signs of disapproval, but I continued to forge ahead. I told her about the dress he bought for me, the dinner date, and the drinks afterward at his house. Then I
confessed about the sex. Not only did it happen on the living room couch, but then again in his bed. I also told her what had transpired just this morning.
Several times during my speech, Samantha had closed her eyes, shaking her head. When I finally got the entire story out, my heart thudded dully. My coffee had grown cold. "Samantha, what should I do?"
She looked at me with a strange expression on her face, one I'd never seen before. Shock? We both knew each other so well that I was aware of her sexual escapades and she was aware of mine, not that there were many, so I couldn't really understand the increasing sense of disapproval emanating from her. "Well? Say something!"
She sighed. "Molly, you know as well as I do that you shouldn't be getting involved with your boss."
"I know, I know! It wasn't exactly like it was planned," I tried to explain. "There's just something about him, something that compels me-"
"You do know that it can't possibly end well, don't you?"
"Why do you think I wanted to talk to you?” I asked. “I'm so confused I don't know which way is up!"
"Molly, you told me that you wanted to make it on your own, without anyone's help; certainly not your father’s. So I have to be blunt here and ask you what the hell do you think you're doing?"
I felt a surge of disappointment rush through me. I couldn't understand her frustration, or possibly even anger, toward me. Samantha picked up on it.
"Look, Molly, you've grown up with maids and housekeepers. So have I. You tell me, honestly and deep down, what you would think of a maid who was shacking up with her boss, no matter how cute he was."
I knew what Samantha was getting at, but I didn't like that now the scenario applied to me. "But it’s not like that-"
