by Vivien Vale
Walking to the register, I don’t even look at what I’m holding. As long as it’s not a pregnancy test, I don’t care.
I don’t know what would be more embarrassing, and I don’t care to think about it. I walk toward register confidently, box in hand. Whatever I’m holding, I’m committed to buying it.
Halfway to the register, under the harsh lights of this unpleasant little shop, I sneak a look at what I’m actually about to purchase.
The good news is that it’s not a pregnancy test.
The not so good news is that it’s not only a box of tampons, but it’s a Value Pack—whatever that means. I’m assuming, looking at the size of this box, that it’s a large supply of tampons meant to last for quite some time.
For me, it’s probably going to last forever, since I don’t even use these things. Putting anything up there just doesn’t sound comfortable. Maybe if my momma had been around, god rest her soul, she could have talked me through it, but…
Moot point. I’m stuck with them now. I guess City June will just have to learn how to be a tampon-using kind of girl.
Unfortunately, they’re also going to set me back a few dollars, which is not what I need right now. But since I’m already committed to this, I don’t even hesitate for a moment on my way to the register.
Of course, that same clerk guy is already behind the register. It’s like he’s following me ahead of time or something.
I try to spot a price tag on the box as I place it on the counter, but there’s none that I can see. It can’t be more than two or three dollars, though. At the very least, I hope it’s not four.
“Ten dollars, gorgeous.”
That’s all he says.
And he’s not even smiling.
His lips are pulled back in something way creepier than a smile. More of a perverted sneer than anything.
I try not to sigh too loudly. I’ve committed to this, and I need to pay the hefty price for this so-called Value Pack of useless-to-me tampons.
My hands are shaking slightly while I dig my wallet out of my purse. Opening my wallet, my fears are confirmed.
There’s one solitary bill sitting in my wallet. Not wavering from my commitment, I try my best to smile while handing the clerk the last ten dollars I have in the world.
Upon exiting the store, I’m the proud owner of a large box of tampons and literally nothing else—besides my trusty blue pickup parked at the curb.
I don’t even have any idea if I’m parked legally. A parking ticket probably runs like ten or fifteen dollars here, and that’s ten or fifteen dollars more than I can afford.
Trying to make heads or tails of the traffic signs, another sight catches my eye, and I can’t look away.
There must be a dozen women walking across the street. Heck, they’re not even at a crosswalk—they’re just strolling right across the middle of the street like it’s nothing!
I can see why they’re so confident—they all look like they’re just stepping out of a Nordstrom catalog or something.
Maybe there’s a fashion show across the street?
Whatever. I’ve got bigger things to worry about now.
First, I need to find a better parking spot for my truck.
Then, I need to figure out how to get some income.
After giving one last curious look at the parade of women crossing the street, I walk around to the driver’s side of my truck, rooting around in my purse for the keys.
They don’t seem to be in there. Did I drop them in the store or…
No. No, I couldn’t have.
Damn it.
Even though I can clearly see my keys in the truck, dangling from the ignition, I’m still in denial.
I didn’t just lock them in there.
No way.
But then I try to open the door, and…
Damn it.
Locking the keys in the damn truck…I mean, really? What next?
And there are still more freaking women crossing the street. What the hell is going on there, anyway?
With a frustrated pivot, I spin around to see what the big freaking attraction is.
Directly across the street is one of many giant freaking office buildings in the area. The confident stream of well-dressed, seemingly well-off businesswomen is making its way into the entrance.
Carved in giant letters above the entrance are the words Abraham Fertility Incorporated.
Huh.
Do all of these women work there?
I don’t know much about typical business hours in New York, but it’s getting late in the morning. A place like that wouldn’t just be opening now.
So why does it look like their entire staff is just arriving?
Unless that’s not their staff—at least, not yet.
Those women are dressed to impress, after all.
Maybe my luck is turning around. My keys are locked in the truck, but I do I have a copy of my resume in my purse.
If there’s a job opening at this Abraham Fertility place, I’d be a fool to let an opportunity like that slip through my fingers.
Looking in my purse, I spot the neatly folded slip of paper I’ve been carrying with me since well before I left Nebraska.
After unfolding my resume, I give it a quick check.
The Wheatfield Public Library has several IBM Selectric typewriters available for members. The recent afternoon I spent at one of those typewriters is finally going to pay off.
My resume is a bit on the sparse side, but hey, it looks clean and professional.
I’m also wearing what could be described as a business casual outfit. It could stand to be ironed, I suppose, but I know for a fact it looks good on me.
My keys and my truck can wait. With my resume in hand, I join the stream of hopefuls making their way into Abraham Fertility, Inc.
Come on, Junebug. Let’s show these city slickers what a country girl can do.
Chapter 3
Carter
“Alright, sweetheart.” Lawrence leans back in his chair with yet another shit-eating grin on his face. “Give us a little twirl now.”
The blonde giggles, her bare tits swaying as she spins on cue. This is the fifteenth blonde we’ve seen this morning, and the twenty-seventh that Lawrence has ordered to strip naked here in the board room.
It’s not that they haven’t been gorgeous, and it’s not that I’m not attracted to them.
It’s just that the more I see of them, as they posture and pose naked for Lawrence’s enjoyment, the less I can see myself with them.
“Mmmm. Daddy likes that, honey. Now bend over and spread yourself. Let’s see that pussy.”
As the blonde complies, I can tell Lawrence is itching to get his cock out and stroke himself while he watches her. Any other day, I might have joined him. But the prospect of losing this company has hit me hard—and the prospect of choosing my bride, my wife, mother of my future children has hit me even harder.
I couldn’t be less turned on right now.
And it doesn’t help that dear old Dad is here in the boardroom with us, supervising this little cattle-call he’s set up to find the mother of his future grandchildren.
Of course, there’s also the little matter of my mother. Sitting here, watching these girls shamelessly strip and do whatever my horny twin brother asks of them, I feel her presence more than ever.
I’m not sure she would approve.
The deeper and longer I reflect on this, the more I wonder how fucking shallow these girls are.
With the mentality of sheep, they come in to parade around and obey without question. I bet if Lawrence asked them to suck our father’s cock, they would. Would they stop at jumping out the window if asked?
Probably not.
I mean, why doesn’t any one of them show some guts? None of the potential mothers/brides have shown anything other than total obedience.
As far as I’m concerned, there’s a fine line between stupidity and respect. Any woman I’m going to get pregnan
t has to be respectful of both my status and me and at the same time—but I don’t want her to follow the pack blindly.
My hands are twitching.
This is fucking killing me.
This hurdle I have to jump is ridiculous, and I hate my father for it already. He knows he’s got me cornered, though. He knows I’m going to do whatever it takes.
If the double standard-having prick is run over by a bus this afternoon, it would be well deserved.
But deep down, I know that wouldn’t solve my problem—I bet the bastard has already changed his will to reflect this new position of his.
It pains me to sit here and have my father dictate my life to the point of giving me a time frame to get a woman pregnant and marry her.
Whatever happened to personal freedom, making choices and experiences for yourself? And here I thought I lived in a free country.
The longer I sit here, the less I feel like watching this fucking train wreck. It’s unlikely I’m going to be able to find someone in the gene pool parading around naked in front of my father, my salacious brother, and me.
Let’s face it, who really wants their future wife on display, naked in front of their brother and father?
Briefly, I glance in the old man’s direction. The bulge in his pants confirms my suspicion—he’s turned on. He’s not only enjoying Lawrence’s demands—he’s loving it.
Obviously, Lawrence is a man after his own heart. No doubt he’s going to go find himself some pussy when the show is over.
“Let me you hear beg for it, babe,” Lawrence demands.
With an internal groan, I slide down in my seat.
I glance at my watch—we’ve been here for an hour already. It seems like a lifetime.
I don’t think I can stand much more of this shit.
“Give it to me, pleeeeeeease, oh pleeeeeeease fuck me,” the blonde moans. “Coooome on, baby.”
“Is that the best you can do?” my brother barks.
I cringe.
We may look identical, but holy cow, we’re nothing alike in any other respect I can think of.
The naked girl pouts and puts her hands on her hips.
“Bend over again, and if you can’t beg for it properly, then let me get another look at your pussy.”
Instantly, the girl obeys, no questions, no nothing.
What the fuck?
What possesses my brother? Is he only after a cheap strip show? Is it a matter of wielding his fucking power, trying to make up for losing most of what’s been promised with a single decision by the old man?
Is he seriously going to pick the future mother of his child, maybe even children, this way?
Doesn’t he find this the least bit off-putting?
I’m nearly ready to vomit.
Power has a strange effect on people. Those who have it abuse it, and those who don’t have it want it.
I admit I myself feel threatened with the idea of being stripped of it—and fucking scrambling to get it back.
But I don’t want to knock up just any woman, either. If I’ve got to have a baby with someone, she’s got to be more than perfect.
Wondering how the fuck I’m going to leave this absurd display of human flesh, I notice the door fly open out of the corner of my eye. Instinctively, I hold my breath.
What fresh hell has the wind blown in now?
Then, instead of the deepening repulse I was expecting, I’m thrown way off balance.
It’s as if a curve ball has been thrown my way. If I was ready to abandon this whole sorry debacle a few minutes ago, but suddenly, my mind’s been changed.
For starters, the door isn’t opened gently. No, I’d describe it as being burst open with intensity.
The heat goes up a few notches, and my mind’s made up.
The woman that just stumbles in looks nothing like the ones I’ve just been forced to stare at in minute detail. She scans the room, and I see her eyes widen, like those of a deer caught in headlights. I can tell by the way her body suddenly tenses that she’s on the verge of following her flight instinct.
This is the one I must have.
For fucking sure.
Without a word to my brother or the old man, I jump to my feet and cover the distance separating me and the future mother of my children.
As I move with supersonic speed, my eyes appraise her, from head to toe.
Sure, her shirt is a little crumpled, but the black pencil skirt shows off a nice bit of leg. And although I can’t exactly see her ass, I get a feeling it’s a tight one. One my hand can cover nicely and squeeze.
I’m about to start talking to her when Lawrence materializes next to me, as if he’s just grown out of the ground by my feet.
“Hey there, baby.” Still wearing the same shit-eating grin he has all morning.
If it weren’t for the fact that I don’t want to frighten this girl, I’d like to wipe the lascivious look right off my brother’s face with my right fist.
My possessive instincts are rallying together and taking charge. I don’t want Lawrence smudging this wholesome look of this latest candidate.
As far as I’m concerned, this chick’s mine. All mine. Lawrence can choose one of the twenty-eight he’s viewed this morning.
I remind myself I don’t have to fall in love with her—but I’ve at least got to like her.
Being easy on the eyes doesn’t hurt, either.
This gem ticks both those boxes. She’s the diamond I’ve been looking for among the crap my father had parade around since announcing his fucking new plan.
“Show me your…”
Not waiting for Lawrence to finish his sentence, I jump in.
“I’m Carter Abraham. You are?” I hold my hand out to greet her, pushing my brother to the side in the process.
We may be into sharing, but I’m not going to share this one with him. I need to look after my own fucking interests now.
“June,” she stutters, her gaze shifting from the naked blonde near the boardroom table to me.
“Well, June, why don’t you come with me so we can have an interview one-on-one.”
There’s a tiny hesitation as I see her try and make sense of the situation.
“Sure,” she finally says.
Before she can change her mind, I take her by the elbow and propel her out of the room.
“Enjoy the rest of the show,” I call over to my brother before I leave the room with the most beautiful woman I’ve seen all day.
Once we’re in my private office, I take a seat across my desk from the woman I’m already secretly referring to as the mother of my child, the key to unlocking my father’s fortune. For the first time, I notice the slightly crumpled piece of paper she’s clutching in her hand.
As if realizing what I’m looking at, she extends her hand.
“My resume for the position of secretary.”
Secretary?
Christ. This’ll be fun.
Chapter 4
June
If I ever wondered what a baby deer feels like when it’s facing down a hungry bobcat—this is it.
“June Johnson.” Carter Abraham glances down at my resume, then tosses it on his desk like he’s never going to look at it again. “Cute resume.”
“Thanks,” I say back, a little uncertain. I’m pretty sure he didn’t even read the freaking thing. “Actually, if you look at it, you’ll see that I’m highly qualified—”
I feel him slide his eyes up and down my body.
He doesn’t even try to hide it. His gaze lingers at the buttons of my button-down just over my breasts and the curves of my pencil skirt at my hips. He stares at my mouth so hard, I can’t even finish my sentence.
I’m used to men looking at me. I mean, most women are, right?
But I’ve never had a man look at me like that before.
Is that the way things work here? It’s just so brazen.
I clear my throat.
“So, as you can see,” I continue, “my resume
speaks for itself.”
My words seem to float right through him. It’s like I didn’t say a thing.
Honestly, I’m not too thrilled with the way they sound. They were meant to say Stop looking at me and read my resume! Or at least pretend to read it!
However, they came out sounding…different. Not how I intended them at all.
Either way, he didn’t take the hint. His eyes are busy taking another grand tour.
“I’ll say,” he responds, finally.
At least he’s listening…I think.
“My resume’s down there,” I say, pointing to his desk, “and my eyes are up here.” I don’t bother pointing to my eyes. He’s not looking, anyway.
“Sure,” he says, now looking off in the distance, disinterested.
Those words didn’t seem to have the intended effect, either. He’s probably heard it all.
Just jaded as all get out.
I sigh.
I’m just going to have to rely on myself to navigate this new universe. I’ve done it before—heck, I’ve made my way into what seems like a high-powered job interview. I should focus on how far I’ve come instead of dwelling on potential failure.
Of course, it’s hard to focus on the positive when there’s a giant hole in my purse and my stomach by now is growling from hunger pain.
Briefly, I’m reminded of those darn tampons that just robbed me of what could have been lunch.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
It’s for a secretary position, but just getting my foot in the door of a place like this would be a solid start.
Just take each moment as it comes, and keep relying on those instincts, I tell myself.
“Is that resume from a template, or…”
“A template? I typed that out myself, if that’s what you’re asking. I didn’t base it on anything.”
“Hmm, you don’t say. It’s refreshing, seeing someone like you in here.”
It sounds like something he’s just saying, with no meaning behind it. So, I push a little.
“What does that mean exactly?”
Maybe he’s jaded, but this seems to give him a little jolt of genuine surprise. With slightly raised eyebrows, and some eye contact for once, he throws that challenge right back at me.
