by Jay Howard
~~~
Zara checked her makeup in the compact mirror and reapplied delicate pink lip gloss. A quick spray of Kiss and she felt ready. Already she had hints he was slipping out of her grasp and needed every trick she knew to keep him interested. At the very least she wanted her six month contract renewed. She stood and smoothed down her navy pencil skirt, the one with the discreet slit up the back that she knew Ron found sexy. He had a thing about the backs of her knees, liked to lick and nibble them when they made love, and knew he always watched her walk away from him when she returned to her desk.
She knocked and went straight in. “This has just been delivered by courier,” she said. “It’s marked for immediate attention.”
She was aware of his focus on the shine like wetness on her full lips as she spoke, was pleased she could still divert his mind from work to her body.
“Thank you, Zara,” he said, accepting the envelope. “I’ll deal with this and then I think we’ll call it a day.”
Satisfied with the promises she saw in his eyes for what would follow, she smiled and sashayed back to her own desk.
Ron waited, the envelope disregarded, until the door was shut. He longed to get her alone, to taste those luscious lips, to drown in the smell of her, and feel her voluptuous body tight against his once more. When she became his PA he’d not been able to get enough of her soft, full curves, but after five months the urge was less frequent. It was the same every time he got a new one, which was quite frequent. The inconvenient loss of continuity in work flow was well worth the variety afforded; he enjoyed the chase almost more than the conquest, and it meant none of them got to know too much. He trusted no one but himself.
He turned the envelope over, checking for clues. All that was typed on it was FAO R Richards and Urgent: to be read immediately upon receipt. Intrigued, he opened it and began to read. After just one sentence he retreated to his inner sanctum; he didn’t want anyone to see any unguarded reactions through the goldfish bowl glass walls of his outer office.
Ron
Don’t return home tonight. We don’t live there any more. The new owners are a lovely couple but I doubt very much that your presence would be welcome. The houses we’ve lived in have always been mine. This time I sold it and just didn’t buy us another to live in together, since there is no more ‘us’.
Where should you go? I don’t really care. You are now in much the same position as when we met, with nothing but the clothes you are currently wearing. However, this time your choices are virtually unlimited due to the small fortune you must have accumulated, since none of your salary ever found its way to the joint bank account. I don’t know how long you’ve been unfaithful to me, but I doubt you’ve squandered all of that money on mistresses. How many have you sent to that ‘very good clinic’? You know, the ‘very discreet’ one you wanted to send me to?
I idolised you when we met. You were so charming, so handsome and strong, but more than that I admired your dedication to your studies, your determination to use education to escape the clutches of that dire council estate background. I was too naive back then to know you would also use people to get what you wanted, specifically me.
Yes, you used me to get access to my father’s contacts and his financial backing; I learned that quite early on. You used me to deal with all the mundane trivia of life, leaving you to concentrate on your career. But I accepted the loss of my own career prospects, the loss of my friends and connection to my roots in our chase around the country for the next career move for you. As I’ve got older and less attractive to you (if I ever was), you’ve ignored me for the most part, or rather you don’t even notice if I’m there or not. Sex (I won’t dignify it by saying ‘made love’ as you’ve never been concerned about my pleasure, only your own) has been increasingly rare. I could bear all of that.
You knew there was only one thing I wanted in return for my selfless support of you, and you reneged on our deal. You crossed the boundary of my tolerance when you referred to my child as a thing to be disposed of. Now you must pay the price.
The easy part for you will be rebuilding the base fabric of your life, all the things that I always took care of for you. For the first time in your life you will have to buy a house and furnish it, clothe and feed yourself, deal with utility companies and household finances. Do you know how to cook? How to use a vacuum cleaner or washing machine? I realise you will not find it a problem financially, and that you will probably use that famous charm to inveigle some other woman into doing all this for you - in time - but at least I shall have the satisfaction of knowing that right now you will struggle. My own time, effort and money are now for my own benefit, mine and my child’s.
How high you have flown, very much in the public eye. Do you worry about how vulnerable that makes you? How rabid other, younger, men are to bring you crashing back down? All they need is the right ammunition…
I have more than ammunition; I have a bomb that will blow your reputation sky high. I have irrefutable evidence of your activities that will sound the death knell on the only thing you care about. I took copies before you shredded them of every document you ever had in your study. You thought they were safely locked away, didn’t you. But I’m a very thorough housekeeper and found the hiding place where you kept the key. And among those documents were your computer passwords. Yes, I have everything I need.
So, should you be worried?
Not if you leave me and my child alone. You made it abundantly clear that you don’t want a child; I want to feel sure you won’t act differently if the primal drive to pass on your genes should get the better of you. The evidence is safe in my keeping. It will only be released if you try to find me or interfere in my life, or my child’s, or indeed if I should die in suspicious circumstances. You see, I don’t trust you. I know how ruthless you can be and don’t discount any action you might be tempted to pursue to get your own way. Leave us in peace and you will be safe.
No longer yours, sincerely or otherwise,
Daphne
