by Amy Brent
Outside, the sun has set down over the horizon, and the winter wind feels colder than before. I walk down toward the sidewalk when a harsh gust of wind blows my coat open. I let out a small scream and pull my coat around me. But another howl shoots over me. My suitcase drops on the ground and the O-Tech tablet flies out.
"NO!" I shout, running blindly out into the road after it. There is no way I could afford to replace it. Not a good way to start a new job. Suddenly, a motorcycle seems to appear out of the middle of nowhere. The engine roars, and the man shouts. I look up. All concern about the tablet is gone. I have no time to move. The driver slams on the brakes. I close my eyes and brace for impact.
Chapter 2
Eleanor's eyes flutter open. A tall figure stands over her surrounded by a ray of white light cascading around it.
“Am I dead?” I ask. No, that can’t be right. My leg is screaming with intense pain. I let out a gasp as the pain seems to triple and ring throughout my entire body. The mysterious angel figure bends down and slides his hands around me. The light is so bright that I cannot see his face, but in that moment, I do not care. The pain rippling through my body is far too great. I am picked up off the ground like some flimsy little rag doll. I close my eyes, and my body seizes as it feels like knives are stabbing throughout my entire lower torso then everything is black.
I push myself through the office doors and make my way to a desk. It is eerily warm inside and empty. Gregory stands in the middle. His beautiful blue eyes stare at me for a long time.
"Glad to see you're doing okay," he says softly walking toward me. I feel my breath quicken in excitement. His taut muscles pull and flex as he moves toward me. "But I was hoping I could see all of you."
“Where is everyone?” I ask.
His hand reaches for my cheek and gently brushes my hair off my shoulder.
“I don’t understand - “
He covers my mouth before I can finish.
“Don’t talk, just feel,” he murmurs to me. I know this isn’t right, but I don’t care. I want him. I tilt my head back as his hand slowly begins to unbutton my satin blouse. His mouth grazes my breast, and I let out a low moan. Every touch is exhilarating, and my body pulses with intense pleasure. I feel my pussy ache to be filled. No man has ever made me feel this way. He rips my pants and underwear down, and his hand slides inside of my soaking wet pussy.
“Fuck me, Greg,” I whimper, as his fingers make my body soar. If his hand feels this good then I can’t even imagine what his cock is capable of. He grabs me by my hips, spins, me around, and bends me over.
“You’ve been such a good girl for Santa this year - “
Beep. Beep.
I awake to the low hum of the hospital and all of its machines being around me. It is nicer than any hospital I have ever been to. Wait, what happened? Did I just have a sex dream about Greg? The room is cozy, and a large tv screen sits across from me softly playing some reality tv show. There is a large open window overlooking a beautiful garden and forest, covered in snow. I am not wearing some thin hospital gown but a fluffy white robe. I slowly turn. My head is throbbing a million miles a minute, but that is nothing compared to my leg. I see my mother nodding off in a cushy arm chair and a white fuzzy blanket draped over her legs.
She is a kind woman with a small button nose and wide doe like eyes. Her bleached blond hair is pulled away from her tired face. But I can’t believe she is here. Something bad must have happened to me. What if I can never walk again!? Panic races through me as I remember the night. I frantically wiggle my toes. It is extremely uncomfortable, but both toes move to my relief. I sigh and sink back into the memory foam bed. I turn my head and almost scream out again in complete horror. I look like a wreck.
My face looks hollow, and my eyes rounder than ever like some sort of scared skeleton. I touch my cheeks and neck. I pull my hair out of its skewed ponytail and begin to brush it through with my fingers. All of this action stirs my mother.
“Ell?” she whispered, sitting up. She blinks through her grogginess and reaches a hand out to touch mine.
“MOM!” I start, “What happened to me? Like what’s wrong with me?”
"You'll be okay baby," she says calmly. "You were almost completely ran over by a man on a motorcycle; he swerved just in time, but the whole thing sent you forward. a car, which was coming to a stop, hit your legs."
My eyes grow wider.
“I was hit by a car?”
She nodded.
“But it wasn’t bad. The car was basically stopped.”
I closed my eyes; my headache is racing. Only would Eleanor Smith be hit by a car on her first day. I begin to think about how I will fall behind on my work. Gregory told me he expected great things from me. Well, what I disappointment I am. I literally just trailed off in the street like a lost little lemming. So much for my resume.
"Did they say how long till I was better?" I ask half-heartedly. I am expecting the complete and utter worst.
“Oh, honey. You just have split fracture with some severe bruising and swelling. You’ll be able to leave today.”
“What day is it?” It felt like I was sleeping for weeks.
“Uh, today is…” she reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone. “The 29th of November. Less than a month from Christmas,” her voice sings. I look at the television screen. It has only been one night. Man, I got knocked hard.
“How did I end up here? Wait - like where are we?”
“We are in a private hospital in the northern part of Illinois. The man who almost hit you.” Her eyes became large, and the happy expression in her face shifts to someone who just remembered the most important news. She practically leaps out of her seat and presses forward. “THE MAN WHO ALMOST HIT YOU! OH MY GOODNESS, ELL! You will never believe it!”
"Mom, what?!" I shout out of exasperation. Her shrill voice makes my body feel like it is on fire.
“It was Leon O’Brian,”
"Really?" Leon O'Brian is the owner and creator of the company I work for. He was the youngest self-made billionaire at twenty-five. He keeps a low profile in the public's eye. I had no idea he would ever even come to visit his company in Chicago this close to the holidays.
“I know, Ell. I didn't believe it at first, but he called me personally and flew me out here to be with you.”
“Over a slight leg fracture?”
“I know. It’s wild.”
I glance down at my bruised and swollen body. Disbelief washes out of me, and anger instantly replaces it. Some big time billionaire was riding around on his stupid motorcycle and practically hit me, sending me right in front of another vehicle. What kind of self-absorbed loser drives like that? I have the fiery urge to quit.
“What is it?” My mother asks.
“Like, what kind of moron runs people over. He has that entitled syndrome, all those rich people have.” My leg starts to throb.
“Ell, he feels really horrible. He does.”
“Mom, no he does not. You are such a suck for this kind of stuff. He just has to be sorry because of his public image. If Leon O’Brian is running people over willy-nilly on the streets of Chicago than it is sure to have an impact on him and his money.” I fold my arms indignantly to signal I am done with this conversation.
As soon as I can get out of this rich person hospital room, the better.
After an hour or so, the doctor an old man with short cropped graying hair and deep creases marked on his face saunters in. He has a gentle voice he speaks with as his soft large hands gently touch my swollen legs.
“Everything is healing up, just fine,” he says calmly.
“Great. When can I get out of here?”
He looks up, shocked by the bluntness of my tone.
“Mr. O’Brian suggested you stay for a day or two, just to rest up.”
“Well, I don’t need to do what Mr. O'Brien says now do I?” I huff, pushing the warm fluffy down comforter off of me
and standing. I am unprepared for the jarring pain and sit right back down. The Doctor raises his eyebrows.
“Where are my clothes?” I ask.
“I will send in a nurse if you would like to check out.”
"I would," I nod. My mother shakes her head. She is embarrassed by my behavior. I don't care. Mr. Fancy Pants Billionaire O'Brian almost killed me. He does not get any say in my own health.
Chapter 3
The next day I wake up in my own bed. There is no bright sunshine that comes through but just the dainty snow fall reminding me that winter is upon Chicago, and I will spend another Christmas single. I push the covers off the bed and reach for the crutch; I didn't need a cast, thankfully. I groan as I enter the kitchen and warm up some instant oatmeal, popping a few of the painkillers into my mouth. The warm scent of cinnamon wafting from the microwave of the relaxes me slightly.
The rest of my morning routine takes way more time than before. I am cautious not to move my leg too much, but putting on pants is a struggle when your leg is a little bigger than before. The doctor gave me several pills to take home to reduce the swelling, but I do not want to take them. I refuse to allow myself anything that Leon O'Brian, the horrible motorist, purchased. Of course, the stay in the hospital would have cost me more than a month's rent was all taken care of.
The ibuprofen starts to numb the current pain, and outside in the cold world, I make my way to the coffee shop. I plan to arrive at the office with my head held high and my leg in full limp. If anyone asks ‘oh, what happened?’ I will not hesitate to tell them who ran me over.
I stand in line amongst the other drained workers of America. Their heavy heads cast downward, and their jaws are tightened. We are the economic drive of America. I order my medium black coffee. The friendly barista nods and punches in the numbers,
“Your total comes to 4.27.”
The high price reminds me of why I never purchase coffee. I half-heartedly smile back and reach into my coat pocket.
"Damn," I mutter to myself. My wallet is not there. I must have been so lost in thought and pain this morning, I had forgotten to nab it out of my purse. All of my things had just been piled up after the crash.
“Nevermi-” I am interrupted.
“I got it,” a calm face voice says.
"Oh that's alright," I say as I spin around to see the face belonging to the kind Samaritan. I am shocked at how handsome he is. He is tall and muscular. With tanned skin and dark brown eyes, peering from under a mess of almost black hair. His jaw is perfectly square. He wears worn jeans and a heavy gray sweater.
“No, really. Tis the season,” he smirks. His smile sends shivers through my body,
He reaches a long arm over my shoulder and holds out his card.
“Add a tall coffee, black as well to that,” he says with a perfect wink. We walk over to the counter together. He obviously notices my pathetic hobbling.
“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking?”
“Some asshole ran me over,” I say with spite. “I was chasing my things, which had fallen out of my suitcase, into to the road, and this guy on a motorcycle almost hit me and then a car hit me.”
There was an extreme look of concern in his eyes.
“Damn...I’m sure that he feels pretty bad,” he says, sprinkling a bag of sugar in the styrofoam cup.
“Doubt it, pompous prick -” I stop myself. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean -” My mouth becomes jumbled, and I glance away from his dark, intense gaze.
“No, no, don’t be sorry. The guy sounds like a prick for almost hitting you.”
I smile back and take a sip of the coffee, but unfortunately, I am an idiot and the heat scalds the inside of my mouth. I cringe and my eyes begin to water uncontrollably.
“You okay?” his smooth voice asks.
“Yeah - its...I’m an idiot.”
He places a hand on my arm. My soul begins to sing under the light touching of his hand. I notice the tattoo of a ship peeking out from the sleeve.
“Don’t say that.”
I blush violently.
“Are you headed to work?”
“Yup, to quit,” I say firmly.
His expression slightly shifts, and I think I see his eyes slightly twitch.
“Thanks for the coffee,” I lift the cup and hobble out of the shop.
I arrive at the office with my red wind burned hands and cheeks clutching the once warm coffee. I toss it into the recycling. I notice the receptionist is borderline fretting. His hands type viciously against the keyboard. His eyes bounce around the desk. His head nods as he speaks into the small microphone headset. But I don't give it much thought and continue to the office.
Everyone there is in a panic. No one even notices me and my horrible hobble of a walk. They all seem to be chattering to one another in a large unison of confusion. I see Terissa and Herman sitting at their desks, talking loudly to each other.
“Hey,” I say as I walk over. Their eyes flicker toward me. Terissa cocks her head like a bird does when it sees something interesting.
“What happened to you?” she asks. “We noticed you weren’t here yesterday.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say abruptly slamming my bag onto the desk. The commotion in the office seems to grow. “What is it with everyone?”
“You won’t believe it, but Leon O’Brian is here in Chicago, and he’s stopping by the office,” Terissa squealed like a little child. I scowl then. Of course, he would show up here.
“You look like someone just kicked you in the shin,” Herman states with a smug look. “What, you hate the guy we work for?”
“Yeah. I do.” I nod. They weren’t expecting that. “Which is why I am quitting today.” They weren’t expecting that either. Both of them snapped forward.
“You're quitting?” Terissa could not possibly understand. In her mind, like everyone else at this establishment, Leon O’Brian is like the second coming of Christ. He is the leader of technological advancement. His ideas are about to change the name of the game.
“Yup. Actually, I’m going to do it right now.”
“You realize you risk yourself getting blacklisted from every company ever,” Herman stammers. I roll my eyes. They are both being so dramatic. Besides, if their friend Leon decides to pull something like that - I will gladly hold a press conference to discuss the issue of my leg. I don’t waste my time explaining to them any of story and limp toward Gregory Williams's office. Part of me hates myself for disappointing Greg. But I know he probably doesn’t care. I am just one of the many little busy bees buzzing around the company. I place m hand on the cold door handle.
“You can’t go in there,” a woman in a black dress snaps, reaching her hand out to stop mine. I ignore her and that gives me some small taste of enjoyment. I am pathetic. I violently swing the door open and march in.
The office is dimly light and very masculine. Dark, almost black, wood covers the floor. The walls are lined with black book cases, and a giant mirror faces the glass desk. Gregory sits up. The glow of his computer shines on his face.
"Eleanor, is everything okay?" he asks. The genuine sympathy and concern in his voice make me suddenly full of shame and embarrassment. His sky blue eyes lock onto mine. He stands quickly.
"I uh-" I start to stammer. The dream I had of him appears in my mind. I can feel him again, a warm feeling oozes in my stomach and finds its way to my clit.
“I heard about the accident. We are so sorry about everything,”
“It’s okay,” I choke “-well, no. No. It’s not okay. That’s why I am here...I don’t think - and this has nothing to do with you, but - “
I am interrupted by the door and the receptionist sticking his head in.
“Leon is here,” he says quickly. Gregory snaps his eyes away from me.
“Perfect!” he says with a smile. The receptionist disappears. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks. I hate myself for being so impul
sive sometimes.
"Eleanor, I'm so sorry to cut this short. Just - if you could give me one moment?" He does not wait for an answer and hurriedly follows the receptionist out of the office. I get a whiff of his sweet cologne. I sink into one of the dark brown swivel chairs facing the glass desk and stare at my reflection in the large mirror. I brush my thin fingers through my long hair and pull it down behind my shoulders. I look back behind toward the door, but there is no way to see out into the office or hear anything. I chew on my bottom lip and face back toward the desk.
Is this a stupid idea? Just because I hate Leon for basically running me over, didn't mean that I had to hate the company or Gregory. I twist the gold ring I have on my thumb. I really should just start work. I am already behind like missing the final review in school before a big exam. Alright, this is foolish. I can stay with the company for one year that is it, and then I can have something great on my resume and move upward in the career world. I am good at what I do. I know that much.
As I start to stand, the door of the offices starts to open.
“Eleanor,” a voice says calmly from behind me. I freeze. It’s strangely familiar. I turn around and a gasp escapes my throat. It’s the dude from the coffee shop this morning. His dark eyes hold mine. “Gregory thought you might be trying to quit today,” he said in that same deep voice. “I can’t let that happen.”
