by Christa Lynn
But no, my fat ass can’t run fast enough, and now there’s a sleek, black sports car creeping up beside me, the hunky and demanding driver lowering the passenger side window. Crap. “Get in Ally.”
“Oh, what are you going to do?” I slow my stride and his car moves slowly as I continue walking. I try to put my hands on my hips like a sassy bitch, but my damn hands are full and my hips are covered in bags. “Get out of your car in the middle of a busy street and go all cave man on me, throwing me over your shoulder?” I beat on my chest. “Me Tarzan, you Jane! No, I will not get in the.......”
Screech!
He stops the car in the middle of the road.In the middle of thefucking road. Next thing I know he’s out of the car and rounding the front end and I’m being tossed over his shoulder, shoes, briefcase and all......and not so gently placed into the passenger seat of his car.
Did I say cave man? Well....if the shoe fits.
Horns are honking and people are screaming at him to get out of the road. But no one thinks to call the cops? Does no one think that maybe I am being kidnapped and try to help? No, these rude fuckers just scream at him to get out of the way.
God I love this city.
Jackson slams my door and stalks over to the other side, pointing at me through the windshield as if to say, “Don’t move.” He’s angry. Really angry.
Well, good. Cause I’m angry too.
But I stay put, because I’m tired and my feet hurt. I’m hot and sweaty and the air conditioner feels really good. I fiddle with the vent so it blows right in my face. My hair goes flying and I suddenly feel like I’m in a Peppermint Patty commercial.
“Damn, that’s sexy.”
I jerk my head toward Jackson, a silly little grin on his face.
“What did you say?” I bark back at him.
“You heard me. Now, can we finish our conversation?
“What conversation? I have nothing to say to you. Please, just take me back to the office so I don’t get fired.” I spit back at him.
Thankfully, the office was not far and before he could even respond, we pulled up outside my office building. Like I said earlier, we could have walked, which is what I had planned to do, but secretly I am glad I didn’t have to.
I get out of the car, slamming the door. And march toward the door to the office building. Yes I know, you don’t slam doors of high priced vehicles, but by this point I am so angry that I don’t give a shit.
But guess what?
I left my bag and my briefcase in the car. So like the idiot that I am, I turn back around and march back to the car. Jackson’s eyebrows raise in amusement. “Don’t get excited, Bentley. I left my purse and case in the back seat. I need it.”
“Please?” He says as he blocks the back door. I squeeze around him and gather my things, slipping my shoes back on and strapping my bags over my shoulder.
“Please what? Really? I need my things, I need to get back upstairs before I lose my job. Tim doesn’t like tardiness and I need this job.”
“You can come work for me.” He says.
“No, I can’t. We’ve been through this already once before and nothing has changed. I love my job and.......” His arms go around me and he kisses me again.
Only this time, I’m too tired and frustrated to fight it.
My lips instinctively part and his tongue plunges into my mouth, as if it was invited or something. His tongue strokes against mine in an erotic dance that sends sparks straight between my legs. His hard body is pressed against me. So hard I can feel his you-know-what pressed up against my stomach.Gah!His hand cups my cheek and he pulls back, placing one last kiss on my lips.
Thankfully, his other hand is around my waist or I would have collapsed right there on the sidewalk.
“Easy, sweet girl, I’ve got you.” He whispers in my ear.
Now, I’ve only kissed a few guys in my lifetime, but none of them kissed like this. Holy shit, I’m doomed. I push back from him and look into his eyes. His lids are half closed and his fingers are still stroking my cheek. I really need to get out of here because I’m not liking the direction this is going.
I lick my lips, because all the moisture has been sucked out of them and I swear he growls.
“Have dinner with me, Ally.” He demands.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Mr. Bentley.” I pull out of his grip, his hand falls to his side.
“I think it’s a fabulous idea. What time do you get off work?” Yes, he’s persistent.
“No, Mr. Bentley. I will not have dinner with you. I have plans with Heather tonight.” I don’t, really, but he doesn’t have to know that. Guess I can always make plans, cause if he finds out I’m lying, well...let’s just say I don’t want to find out what happens if he finds out I’m lying.
Did that even make sense?
“Tomorrow then, say six o’clock? I’ll pick you up right here. Don’t be late.” He turns to get back in the car, not waiting for an answer.
“Wait!” I yell out. “What part of NO didn’t you understand, Mr. Bentley?” Here I go again with one liners from songs.
“Alexandra. You know you can call me Jackson. We’ve been over this. You want me. I want you. What more is there to talk about? That kiss proves to me that I’m right and I can only imagine how uncomfortable you are going to be meeting with Tim wearing wet panties. I will see you here at six o’clock tomorrow. If you aren’t here, I will come up and get you.”
And he leaves. Leaves! I get no say in this and let out a growl of frustration. Loud enough that people stop to look at me. And how does he know my panties are wet? I look back over my shoulder at my ass to see if my skirt is stuck to my ass, and thankfully it isn’t.
No, No No! I have to find a way out of this. Maybe if I call out sick. No, he’ll just come to my apartment bringing chicken soup. Can’t have that either. I know, I’ll make a dentist appointment or doctor appointment and leave early. Nah, I would never get into either office that quickly.
I turn angrily to head inside and slam right into Tim. Great. Can this day get any better?
“Ally, you’re back. Good, let’s go up to my office and go over the dimensions. Valerie headed over to CAD to have the layout drawn up. We’ll discuss our plans and then you can go down to the Design room and pick out the fabrics and such.” He tells me as we head to the elevator.
How much did he just see of that little scene on the sidewalk? Did he see Jackson kiss me? Heat rushes up my neck and burns my cheeks. “Ally, you okay? You look a little flushed.”
“I’m fine. Just not feeling real well. I’ll be okay once I get cooled off.” The summer months here in Atlanta can get blistering. They don’t call it HOTlanta for nothing. Funny, it didn’t seem nearly as hot in Miami, though surely it must have been.
Tim and I walk in the direction of his office, but I make a breakaway to my cubicle. “Five minutes, Al. In my office.” I nod my okay to him. I put my purse back in my desk and set my briefcase under my desk and head straight to Tim’s office. As I walk in, I see he is on the phone but he motions me in, then covering the speaker on the phone. “Close the door please.”
Shit. That is becoming my new favorite word. I close the door quietly and sit down while I wait for Tim to finish his call, which thankfully doesn’t take long.
Once he has set the phone in the cradle, he looks at me. And I mean, looks. Not sure what he is looking at or trying to find, but if looks could kill.....well, I’d be lying on the floor in a pool of blood, moaning and twitching.
“What’s the deal with you and Mr. Bentley?” Tim asks.
Nice to know he doesn’t sugar coat things. Just come on out with it, I always say.
“Um, to be honest. I’m not really sure. He kinda freaks me out a little.” I shyly respond.
“Based on what I saw today, you two have apparently met before, am I correct?”
“Yes, we have met, albeit briefly. I don’t know him very well at all.” I need to answer his question
s, but I don’t want to give too much away, not knowing what he knows and all that.
“Well, apparently you know him pretty well since I saw him kiss you on the sidewalk outside of the office. You do realize he is a client and relations between employees and clients are against the rules right?” He quirks an eyebrow up at me.
“Yes. But in my defense, he kissed me. I did not kiss back. He seems to have this.....I don’t know, infatuation maybe? Like I said, it’s creeping me out a bit.” I respond.
Silence. Shit.
“Spill it, Ally. I need to know what we are dealing with before we continue with the design plans. He hired us for a reason. Now I think I have figured out why.”
“And why doyou think he hired us, Tim?” I said a bit sarcastically, but hey, that’s who I am. Sarcasm is my middle name. Plus, I already know the answer to the question, so If I’m going to dig my own grave, I want to be able to pick out my coffin.
“You. He hired us because of you, Ally. Now, can you tell me why that is?”
“Yes, I think I can. But I’m not sure I want to.” I take a deep breath and continue.
“He was at the fashion show in Miami. I didn’t know who he was, but he approached me at the bar. I got away, but Heather brought him up to our room after the party. Now, he keeps coming around and he won’t take no for an answer.” I said sheepishly. I didn’t look at Tim, I couldn’t. I heard him suck in a breath and pause, I guess trying to decide what to say next.
“Stay away from him, Ally. He’s bad news.”
“Don’t you think I know that? He’s not getting the hint, at all.” Shaking my head. “I’ve told him no, but he keeps at it. I’ve never been pursued like this and I’m at a loss as to what to do.” He knows where I live, he knows where I work. Hell, I think he knows more about me than I do.
Giving Tim what he wants, “I think you need to remove me from this project. It would be best for the company, Tim, and for my sanity. I’ll understand.” I say as I start fighting tears. I refuse to cry at work. As much as I want to, I just can’t do it.
Pausing for a second, he sits back in his chair, “No, we need this job. It’s a great way to branch out from what we’ve been doing. If I pull you off the project, we may lose it, so just do your best to keep your distance and keep it professional.”
“I’ll try.” I tell him with as much conviction in my voice as I can muster up.
“Great. Okay. Well, head down to see Valerie and she will take you to the sample room. We’ve only got four days to get the proposal to Mr. Bentley.”
“Yes sir.” I stand and exit the room.
“Oh, and Ally? Don’t let him get to you. If he knows what he is doing riles you up, he won’t stop.” I nod and exit his office and mosey my way back to my cubicle.
I flop down. So hard that the chair sinks down a notch.I glance at my phone and see I have a message, from anUnknown Number, so I have no clue who it’s from, until I read it.
“Tomorrow night. Six o’clock. No panties.”
What the fuck? I know he didn’t just tell me not to wear panties. Who in the hell does he think he is? He’s a client now, isn’t this sexual harassment? Should I report him? A thousand other questions are pounding through my brain, giving me a headache. Maybe reporting him will get him to back off. But I think, no. This is Jackson Bentley and if he hasn’t backed off yet, he isn’t going to. And, who would I report him to anyway, his mother?
I need to talk to Heather. Now. She’s the only one I know that can talk me down from this pedestal, or is it a ledge, that Mr. Bentley has put me on. I pick up my desk phone, because management frowns on employees using their cell phones at their desk, though they typically don’t frown on a text message here and there.
“Heather Langley.” She picks up after the first ring.
“Hey it’s me. I’m screwed. Can you meet me at Digger’s after work? I need to talk and I’m afraid to go home.”
Well, that just totally freaked Heather out. I spend the next five minutes trying to calm her down. “Whoa, wait. Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. I just have a feeling The Suit is going to show up tonight and I am trying to avoid him.” I tell her.
“Jackson? Why would he be....wait, you DID sleep with him didn’t you?”
“What? No! I told you I didn’t. Listen, I can’t get into it now. I have to head down to the sample room, but I’ll leave here right at six o’clock. Can you meet me there at seven?” I’m practically begging.
She sighs, “Yeah, sure. But this better be good. I’ll miss The Bachelor tonight, thanks to you.”
“Oh, it is. I mean, it’s bad....not good, oh shit. I’ll explain it when I see you. Bye.” And I hang up without giving her the chance to ask more questions. I mean, this is her fault anyway. If she hadn’t brought him up to our hotel room, and if she hadn’t virtually pushed me into his limo at the airport, I wouldn’t be in this mess.
That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
Chapter 9
Six o’clock rolls around and I grab my belongings and head to the elevator, so glad this day is over. I’ve had bad Mondays before, but this one is the cherry on the whipped cream.
My car is in the parking garage, and as the elevator door opens, I peer out before exiting. Seems quiet. All I can hear are the sounds of tires of other cars echoing throughout the garage.
I make it to my car without incident and actually am able to leave. I totally thought The Suit would be down here, watching and waiting for me. I exhale a deep sigh of relief and maneuver my car on to the busy Atlanta streets, aiming for the interstate. I chuckle to myself. Never have I been this paranoid.
I know, I really should take MARTA, but I’d have to hit a Park -N-Ride for Gwinnett County Transit, then hit the train at the Chamblee Station which is too much trouble. So instead I sit in my car, poking along at twenty miles an hour, if I’m lucky, spewing exhaust into the air with my fellow commuters.
Monday rush hour traffic is usually horrible, but thankfully traffic starts moving on I85, just past the Perimeter, which is nothing more than a circle that goes around the city. It’s one of those roads where if you don’t have a ramp on the back of your car so people can pass, you’d better get in the slow lane. And even then, anything less than eighty miles per hour is too slow.
Once I am past the merge, I manage to get to about fifty. I have the music up loud and the air conditioner cranking and make it to Digger’s with a few minutes to spare so I go ahead and sit down at the bar, breathing a big sigh of relief. Now, I’m not a big drinker, as we established earlier. But today is a no-brainer. I order a tequila shot and a glass of wine. The shot is to take the edge off, the wine is to sip and drown myself in.
Heather finally flies in, looking like the super model that she is. The men in the room stare and gawk at her as she makes her way to the bar but she doesn’t even notice. Good girl.
She sits down and orders her drink, going the beer route. When the bar tender sets her Blue Moon down, she puts the bottle to her lips and takes a long pull. She hasn’t spoken to me yet. No hello, howdy or kiss my ass. Nothing.
But now that she has had her first drink of beer, she turns on her bar stool and stares at me with a This Better Be Good look. She doesn’t need to say anything, I know.
So, I spill it all. Liquid courage causes loose lips, especially for me. I tell her all about the meeting with Tim, the incident on the street with The Suit, and the final meeting with Tim. Funny how things today began and ended with Tim, but I try hard not to think about that.
Heather takes another drink of her beer, setting the bottle on the bar a little harder than she probably should have. “This is why you insisted meeting me here? We could have talked about this at home, Ally.” She waggles her finger at the bar tender for her check.
“I’m going home. If you want to sit here in wallow in alcohol, you can do it by yourself. I’ve had a long day and my pajamas, a bowl of Cherry Garcia and The Bachelor are calling my name.” She flops a
ten dollar bill on the bar and leaves. Never, has my best friend ever walked out on me.
Maybe I should take a long hard look at that.
“Heather!” I call to her as she struts herself right on out of the bar, leaving me sitting alone and I suddenly feel eyes on me. NO! I look around, and realize I’m just paranoid again. I scan the bar and don’t see anyone I know but he’s gotten under my skin so deep that I feel him everywhere. I sit there and finish my wine quietly before finally trudging to my car. Jackson’s text message has me on edge. No panties? No fucking way.
I know what I'll do...Grannie panties, you know....period panties? The oversized, hip hugging grande drawers that are the most comfortable, but totally not sexy. Yeah, that’ll serve him right. Look out Jackson, the last laugh is going to be on you! Wait, why am I even considering this? It’s not like he’s going to see them anyway.
The drive home is uneventful. I walk into the apartment an hour or so after Heather would have gotten home and she wasn’t kidding. There she is like a lump on MY sofa, spoon and ice cream container in hand, glued to the television.
“Hey.” I say as I walk in. She doesn’t speak, just waives her hand acknowledging me, but not taking her eyes off of the TV. Silly reality television. I’ve got so much reality going on in my life right now, I don’t need someone else’s. Why is she here anyway and not at her own apartment?
I drop my purse on the sofa table along with my keys and go straight to my bedroom. I throw on a baggy tee shirt and capri pajama pants. I glance at the clock and it’s only 8 o’clock. Too early to go to bed, but I refuse to sulk in front of the television.
I grab the laundry in the dryer and dump it on my bed, folding and hanging as I go. I hate laundry, but it’s an important part of life. As I am folding, I come across a pair of those infamous grannie panties. These are so big they could pass for maternity underwear and I love them. They don’t ride up the crack of my ass and the cotton is soft and comfortable, so I place them in my panty drawer, on top so I remember to wear them tomorrow. If Jackson Bentley thinks he’s getting into my panties, then he has another thing coming. This will turn him off like a light bulb and he will go away. Of course, I don’t plan on letting him see my panties anyway, but I figured it's better to be armed than empty handed.
