Hold On

“You want to keep your job?” His words are thick, and bile tickles the back of my tongue. “It’s not too late.”

When I feel the warm wetness of his tongue flick at my ear, I gag and jerk my head to the side, stepping back as I see a smile spread over his face.

“Is that a no?”

“I can explain…” My voice shakes, and I’m not sure I can explain, but I want to keep my job and not do whatever this is that is happening right now. “What did Mr. Rogers say?”

There’s a black hole where my heart should be as I imagine Marshall telling Carver about the stupid girl he found naked in his bed last night. Or about how I was debasing myself in his house. Or at the least how unprofessional I was to invade his privacy. Any one of those things would be cause for termination.

Carver’s thick tongue swipes around his lips again, reminding me of Buddha after his meal last night. “What he told me isn’t important. Your inability to tell me your side of the story is enough. But I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. You can keep your job. I’m not a bad guy; I want to help you. You just need to help me. Quid. Pro. Quo…” He traces the backs of his fingers down my arm, and I’m dizzy. I will my legs to move, to run, but my feet are stuck to the floor.

“What do you want?” I manage each word catching in my throat.

“Just some time. Lunch. Today. Simple. You keep your job, and we can discuss how I can further your career.”

I gulp. It’s just lunch. I keep my job and I can handle him. I can figure this out.

“Okay,” I hear myself say, even though every cell in my body is screaming no.

“Great.” His smug look only intensifies my trepidation. “I’ll bring us something to your place. Go home and get dressed. I’d like to see you in something lacy. Put your hair in two pigtails. Heels, too.”

What was apprehension turns to abject fear, and I stare at him, unsure what to do next. “I don’t—” I start, and he steps forward, his hand once again at the back of my neck, only harder and more insistent this time.

“You will.” He spits the words only an inch from my face. “Trust me, you’ll enjoy yourself. I know girls like you. Know what you like, even if you don’t. Yet.”

His lips meet mine, and as he shoves his tongue inside, I wince at the sick warmth and sour taste.

I scream into the invading kiss, my hands battering his chest, and on pure instinct, I drive my knee into his crotch.

He pushes me away on a pained groan, at the same time there’s a slamming sound from behind me. I jerk my head around, my eyes already blurry and burning, and I see the door wide open and Marshall standing there looking homicidal.

“What the fuck?” Carver is doubled over, screaming at me. “Dumb little bitch. You don’t know what’s good for you…”

I fling my head back and forth, looking from Marshall to Carver and wonder if Marshall is a part of this. But before I can say anything, he steps forward as I slink back, pressing myself against the wall.

“I do know what’s good for her.” Marshall grips Carver’s shoulders, bringing his knee into his gut before taking hold of his tie and slamming his face into the edge of the desk, dropping him to the floor.

There’s a loud clatter as the desk lamp topples over, falling onto Carver’s head and smashing the bulb into tiny shards scattering on the floor around him.

“Fuck you,” Carver mouths, spit dripping from his lips as he wheezes.

“You ever come near her again, ever touch her again, ever breathe her name or think of her, there will be no trace left of you. I told you to call her into the office, not to fucking touch her.”

Marshall is wearing a gray T-shirt and jeans, a contrast to his suits of the last couple days, and I see the thick muscles in his arms and chest tighten, making him look even bigger than before. I notice his tattoos more in the office light, dark indigo, primal, telling me there is more to this man than business meetings and deal-making.

“She’s my employee, who the fuck do you think you are?” Carver rolls to sit up, wiping the back of his hand over his face.

“I’m your new nightmare.”

“What are you doing here?” I finally manage, my hands flying to my cheeks the entire scene so surreal I wonder if it’s a dream.

“Getting you.” Marshall takes my arm and half drags me from the office, a low growl coming from him as we go.

My heart skips a beat. I’m letting one-man drag me away while the other one lies on the ground in a heap, along with the remnants of my meager career. Why it feels so right to let Marshall take control over me I’m not sure, but it does. Even as that hole in my chest reminds me of the woman that showed up at his place last night.