by T. N. King
“I think…I have proven myself over the five years I have been with you and if you gave me that promotion, I could better utilize my work skills and improve your restaurant.”
“I have a few ideas where your work skills would come in handy.” He licked his lips and leaned toward her, putting his hands on the arms of her chair. She slid down into her seat and prayed he wasn’t making a move on her.
“Sir? Um…Mr. Gustaf….” He lowered himself down on her and she tried not to make a scene that would get her fired. Just before his lips touched hers, she slid down further, falling off the chair and onto the carpet. He pushed the chair back away from her and helped her up.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she said pushing her hair back away from her face. She felt his hands touch the top of her chest and slide down into her uniform. He grabbed hold of her breast and squeezed it.
“Mmm, yes, I think this is going to work.”
Megan shoved his hand away and slapped his face. She stood there staring at him with wide eyes.
“You slapped me?”
“I’m…yes.”
“You shouldn’t have slapped me.”
Megan’s heart jumped. Robert grabbed her by the neck and pulled her toward him. He wrapped his arm around her head and covered her mouth with his. He leaned over her as his tongue pushed into her mouth and he grabbed her between her legs with his other hand. Megan struggled to get away from him as she felt his fingers struggle to get up underneath her dress. He hooked his finger into the side of her underwear and yanked them to the side. She squealed and tried punching him to get some space between them. He grabbed her hair and pushed her toward his desk, bending her over and holding her there. She could feel the weight of him on top of her. She filled her lungs to scream but his hand covered her mouth, his fingers grabbing hold of her lips and pushing into her mouth. He pushed them so far in that she gagged, her eyes tearing up. She felt his other hand fondled her under her dress again. He pushed her underwear to the side and slid his fingers inside of her.
“The sooner you realize who the boss is around here, the sooner you will learn to respect who I am. There is a level of authority around here and it is time that you learn your place, whore.”
Megan felt her body being jarred back and forth as he slammed his fingers deep inside her repeatedly. He let her go and turned her around.
“Get on your knees.” His glare burned into her.
She slowly lowered herself down in front of her, surrendering herself to him. She watched him smile as he unbuckled his pants, letting them fall to the floor. She crawled closer to him and reached up with her hand, lightly grazing his balls with her fingertips. When he put his head back and let out a sigh she grabbed hold of them and squeezed them with everything she had.
Robert let out a yell and smacked her in the side of the head. She saw shards of light pierce through her peripheral vision but didn’t let go. Standing up slowly she got in his face and growled.
“Look at me you piece of shit.” She squeezed harder. “I don’t care who you are and what kind of power you have. You will not treat me like you have treated those other girls. I’m a damned good employee and you’d be a fool to let me go.”
“You…have to…let go…please.” She could see beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
“As soon as I do, you are going to sit down in your chair, over there and let me walk out of here. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” he said quickly, nodding profusely. “Yes, I will.”
She started pulling him in that direction until he reached his desk and then let him go. He almost collapsed to the floor as he fell into his chair. He rubbed himself between his legs and wiped his forehead with his sleeve.
Megan felt empowered and liberated as she walked to the door. She unlocked it, looked back and scowled at him.
“Megan,” he whimpered just after she walked out of the room.
“Yes?”
“You’re fired.”
Megan looked online when she got back to her apartment.
“There are tons of jobs in this city. I don’t need that asshole.”
She spent the rest of her afternoon calling a couple of higher end restaurants looking for help but none of them seemed interested in her after she gave her name. The last one she spoke to she began to get angry.
“With all due respect sir, I am a good waitress. I have a lot of experience and I work hard.”
“I’m sorry, but you don’t quite fit what we are looking for.”
Megan re-read the advertisement out loud. “Waitress wanted, one to two years’ experience for a high end restaurant. I worked in two similar restaurants and I have five years in the last one. What more do you need?”
“Someone who hasn’t gotten fired for sexual connotations. Have a good day miss.”
Megan put her phone down, feeling defeated and on the verge of tears. She got up to get a beer and caught her image in the mirror. Growing up she often heard other girls admitting they wished they had her long wavy hair and flawless skin. These days, it was more of a curse. This was the second job she has gotten fired for because the boss wanted to use her as a play toy. She closed her eyes and wondered how different it would be if she cut her hair short. Her phone interrupted her thoughts and she swooped over to grab it hoping it was one of the other employers calling her back.
“Hello?”
“Good afternoon Megan.”
She cringed. “Hello Tony.”
“Do you have my rent?”
“I haven’t picked up my check yet. I have to get it tomorrow.”
“Your rent is due today. In fact, you owe me for two months. Why don’t you pay me for last month now and tomorrow when you get paid you can catch up this month too.”
“I…don’t have it.”
“None of it?”
“I will though. I promise you. Just give me until the end of the week? Please?”
“What the fuck.”
She heard a click and plopped down in her chair. She couldn’t get the money by the end of the week. She would have been lucky to get it by next month.
“I need to think outside the box. I don’t have to waitress. There’s got to be something else I can do. She started googling different job opportunities and looked through help wanted websites.
“What’s this?” She pulled herself closer to the desk and clicked on one ad that was looking for a live-in housekeeper. “How hard could that be?” She read the details and re-read them again. “Who needs experience cleaning someone’s house?” She picked up her phone and dialed the number listed.
The phone seemed to ring endlessly until the voicemail picked up. The man’s voice was deep, monotone, very straightforward. She didn’t’ know what to make of it but she left a message.
“I’m responding to the ad online for a live-in housekeeper? My name is Megan Jenkins. Please call me whenever, day or night.” She tried not to sound nervous or desperate as she left her number but after she disconnected the call she thought she did. She looked through more online ads in hopes that something would stand out to her but her hopes dwindled and she ended up drinking her last two beers for dinner.
“Hey. I heard what happened. I’m so sorry.” Joselyn got Megan’s number from one of the other girls at the Bistro and called her as soon as she heard.
“It’s fine. It was going to happen sooner or later.”
“Did you really knee him in the balls?” she asked excitedly.
“No.” she laughed. “I squeezed them so hard he almost fell to the floor.
“Ouch! I love it. The slime ball had it coming.”
“How are you doing?”
“I’m doing okay I guess.”
“Have you been able to stay away from him?”
Joselyn got very quiet.
“Joselyn? Don’t tell me he did it to you too. Did he fire you?”
“No.” Her voice was so demure. Megan gasped and covered her mouth.
/> “Did you….”
“It’s no big deal. Just sex, right?”
“Oh my God. What a bastard.”
“Anyway, I am calling to see if you would like to go out for drinks later, you know, drink your blues away?”
“I…can’t.” She looked around her apartment. “I don’t dare leave. I might come back to a locked door and a barricade in front.”
“Well, if you want me to put in a good recommendation for you, consider it done.”
Megan’s phone beeped in another call and she looked at it. She didn’t recognize the number. “I have to take this call. Might be a potential.”
“Okay. Hey Megan?”
“Yeah?”
“Good luck.”
Megan hesitated. “You too Jos.”
She switched over to the other call. “Hello?”
“This is Mr. Black. I’m returning a call for our ad online for the housekeeping position.”
“Oh! Yes. Um, yes sir.”
“You are qualified to help with upkeep for a mansion and penthouse?
“Um…yes sir.”
“And you have no problems living on the premises?”
“No, I don’t have a problem with that at all.”
“Mr. Dean would like to meet with you tomorrow at three. Is that suitable for you?”
“Yes. Perfect.” She couldn’t help wonder about Mr. Black. His voice was strict, no feeling at all.
“Take down the address.”
Megan scrambled for a pen and scribbled on an envelope on her desk.
“Ready?”
“Yes.”
“105 Brandon Terrace Road. Tomorrow at three then.”
“Thank you.” She put her phone down and thought about it. She thought about the way Mr. Black’s voice sounded and how he scheduled the interview with some guy named Mr. Dean. They sounded like mob bosses and it made her uneasy. She ran to her room and searched for her pepper spray just in case.
It wasn’t easy keeping busy until her job interview, especially since that was all she could think about. She worried that she would be walking into a bad situation. She didn’t know these people and with her luck, she was sure it would turn out disastrous.
She took her time putting together the right outfit to wear, nothing too revealing yet something that looked attractive on her. She wanted to look professional and show Mr. Dean that she meant business…and only business.
“There’s nothing here!” She threw a pale yellow dress she wore over ten years ago across the room and gave up.
She sat on the side of her bed, rubbing her stomach as a dull hunger pain started to surface. She was too nervous to eat, not that she had much in her cupboards anyway. She was almost out of cash and definitely out of options.
Taking the last of her cash she went to the charity shop and found a cute pale pink pencil skirt and paired it with a lighter pink sweater. She had just enough to purchase the outfit with a pair of flats that almost fit her. She took her second hand outfit back to her apartment and got ready, paying particular attention to her make-up and hair.
Her stomach rumbled again. She went to the kitchen, opening her cupboards again. The contents didn’t change from the last time she scrounged for something to eat. She took a few sips of water but regretted it as soon as she did, smelling sulfur in the air. She opted to go without until she got someplace with better water.
The drive to Brandon Terrace Road was a long one. She figured it would take about an hour but was thankful that she left early enough to stop and get some water to drink. She used that time to compensate for the time it took to find the place. She pulled into the driveway and gasped at the mere size of the place. The driveway was at least 1000 feet long with the most beautiful gardens on each side. Acres and acres of lush green grass set up the landscape for an in ground pool bigger than her entire apartment, a tennis court, a basketball court and guest houses.
“What am I doing here? I don’t belong here.” She took a minute to talk herself into it. When she got out of her car a pain shot through her stomach. She leaned up against the car and rubbed it a few times.
“Come on, just a few more minutes” Walking up the steps she noticed they were made of a black marble. “God, this place is beautiful.” The marble swirled together and seemed to move around. She closed her eyes and shook her head when she reached the large front door. Her finger pressed the doorbell and she barely heard the chimes coming from inside.
The door finally opened and Mr. Dean stepped into the doorway. His smile was brilliant.
“Hello. You must be Megan Jenkins.”
Megan tried to focus on the man’s face, but his nose went one way and his eyes went the other way. She tried to reach out to him as she felt herself fall. Before she hit the ground, everything went black.
Chapter 2
Megan nestled her face into the soft pillow and let the smells of bacon and grapefruit seep into her senses. She felt a dull pain in the back of her head before she opened her eyes. She tried wishing it away wondering why it was so bad. She didn’t take Joselyn up on her offer to have drinks and she didn’t eat anything bad. In fact, she didn’t eat anything at all. Her interview! Her eyes flew open and she focused her eyes on the soft white curtains covering the window on the far side of the room she was in. The window was open a couple of inches causing a light breeze to ruffle the curtains.
She looked around without moving much and noticed the beauty of the room. Everything was white with light pink accents to offset the canvas. Nothing was out of place and everything was crisp, clean and perfect. She slowly sat up as the last events of what she remembered came back to her. She was just about to meet Mr. Dean at his front door when she must have passed out. She put her hands on her stomach as it reminded her of why she passed out.
She pulled herself out of bed and went to the window.
“Where the hell am I?” The view told her she was about three stories up and the landscape reminded her that she was in Mr. Dean’s home. She gasped and turned quickly. A sharp pain shot through her forehead that almost made her collapse again. She eased over to a vanity mirror and sat in front of it. An old antique looking porcelain brush with gold painted trimming sat on the small desk. A small comb to match beside it. She looked in the mirror and felt the gauze covered bump on her forehead. A small patch of dried blood had seeped through. She tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry. Her stomach hurt and her skin was pale.
“God, I’m a mess.” She bent her head down, stretching the muscles of her neck and wished for some of that bacon she kept smelling. “I need a shower first.”
She shuffled into a small bathroom off the bedroom and turned on the water. Before it got too warm she let the water pool into her hands and brought it to her mouth. The cold melted down through her esophagus to her stomach and felt good all the way down. She drank a few more handfuls before pulling her charity shop outfit from her body.
The water couldn’t get hot enough as it cascaded down her back causing goosebumps to form. She let the heat from the water penetrate her face. The soap she found smelled like roses and softened her skin. It was the best shower she had taken in years.
She wrapped a large white towel around her and walked back to the bedroom, carrying her clothes. The vanity mirror was a little nicer to her this time as it showed some signs of life in her cheeks. She pulled the towel off and looked her body over in the mirror for any other signs of bruises or bumps. She towel-dried her hair and pulled the brush through until it was soft and straight. When she stood to reassemble her outfit she heard a knock on the bedroom door.
“Hello?”
She recognized the voice as the man at the front door.
“Just a second.” She was yanking her skirt on and trying to cover herself in case he decided to come in prematurely.
“I just wanted to check up on you. I heard the shower running and assumed it was you.”
“I hope that’s okay,” she said, pulling her sweater over he
r head.
“Of course it is. Are you doing alright?”
“I’ll be much better once I eat something. You can come in.”
The door opened and Jensen walked in. He had an air of confidence Megan found quite alluring, the skin of champagne satin sheets, his suit was crisp and tailored to fit him perfectly and his smile was brilliant. She remembered that smile just before she fainted.
She put her head down in shame when she remembered that he was the one who she fainted in front of. “I’m…sorry for what happened.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” He reached his hand out to her and opened it. There were two pills sitting on his perfectly sculpted palm. Megan just looked at them and then back at Jensen. “It’s ibuprofen, for your head.”
She hesitated and then picked them up off his hand. She took the glass of orange juice he offered her also.
“Thank you,” she barely said.
“Would you…like to come down for some breakfast?”
Her stomach answered for her with a loud grumbling sound. She slapped her hand over it and felt her face flush with embarrassment. “Sure. Thank you.”
She followed him out of the room and down a hallway lined with plush ivory carpeting and down a spiral staircase. He led her through a large living room and into an equally large dining room. The table sat twelve people comfortably and half of it was covered in fruits and breads, sliced ham and sausage, eggs and fried potatoes and three different kinds of juices.
“Whoa.” She stood in the doorway and just stared at the amount of food before her.
“You are welcome to sit anywhere.” He smiled, pointing to the chairs around the table. He stood by the head of the table until she slowly walked in and sat down two chairs from him. “Help yourself to anything here. I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I had the local bakery deliver a little bit of everything. You must be famished. Sit. Eat.”
She picked up an apple and dove her teeth into it. The sweet juice spread across her tongue as she chewed the soft fruit. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the flavor, not remembering when an ordinary apple tasted so good.
“We have tea in the kitchen as well.”
