When he came out of the shower only a few minutes later, I was proven wrong. “What the hell, Holly? Get your fat ass up. Go take a shower. I can’t take you home smelling like a whore, with jizz on you. Although, I gotta say, I doubt anyone who would make me pay for it would give up as much as you did. Horny, little slut hidden behind that shy fat girl. I guess what they say is true, a fat chick will do anything to make you happy. Today is my day, man, I just earned a hundred bucks. Guys couldn’t believe I’d take the bet, but I did and won. I managed to fuck the Staff Sergeant’s fat little girl.”
He sounded so proud of himself. Every wor
d was a cut along my skin until I was weak with the loss of blood. Only, I couldn’t see the blood. How could there be so much blood, yet I couldn’t see it? Looking down at the ravaged king sized bed, with the smell of sex heavy in the air, rage fired through me. This fucker had used me, used me, with malice and intent.
Still drying his hair, his towel over his head, he didn’t see the blow coming. Picking up the guitar he had used to serenade me with some silly song earlier, I aimed the butt of it at his head. Broken now, I dropped it and reached for his baseball bat, and sent it into his middle as he lay on the floor. Snatching the towel off his head, seeing the tears and the side of his face already bruising filled me with satisfaction. “Where is it you bastard? Where is the camera?”
Bobby was crying as he pointed toward the closet. Thank god, he hadn’t run it to his computer, it was just a simple camcorder. I tossed it on the floor before taking the baseball bat to it until it looked like a Lego set. He was still on the floor, bawling. My hand went into his hair, yanking his head up. “If you ever tell anyone, and I mean anyone, what happened today, I will use the bat again on your legs and you will walk with a limp for the rest of your life. You’re afraid of my dad and brothers, but they are nothing compared with what I will do to you if I ever see you or hear anything about today from you again. Do you understand?” He only continued crying. I shook his head again, this time harder. “Do you understand?”
“Yes!” He sputtered out. I pushed his head back against the floor, letting him go. I grabbed my clothes and went into the bathroom. The bathroom was filthy. My shower was quick. I dressed even quicker. I was numb by then, no anger, no sadness at all.
Leaving, I didn’t see a sign of Bobby. I never saw him again. My brother tells me that only three days later he moved in with his dad in Buffalo, New York. He expected a reaction. I gave none. My family all knew something happened, considering I never even spoke Bobby’s name again. I never told them I learned my lesson. What my father has been telling me since I was in my early teens was true. Men don’t want a fat girl, they want someone thin and pretty. I learned from Bobby the only reason a man wants a fat girl is because they are supposed to be willing to do anything to keep him.
In the years since, I’ve only been with two other men who reinforced what Bobby had said, men only wanted a woman like me for sex. Even the dates were bad, I had one date stop me at the door, saying he was just there to fuck, I didn’t expect to be seen out with him, did I? Each encounter left me feeling empty inside and hating my body and myself. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and gave up on men.
In the years since I have depended on a gift given to me by mother. I remember being utterly mortified as she started talking. While she understood sex and the feelings of romance were exciting, they were always better when you were cared about. Until I found someone who really cared about me, there was nothing wrong with a substitute. Then she gave me a vibrator, made of soft silicone, in my favorite color of pink.
At the time I wanted to die. Now I want to kiss her for giving the only release I could count on for years. A few years ago, I upgraded and now have two vibrators: one like my mother first gave me, and another with the beads and tickler. I have been content. I really was, until now.
Eyes closed, head back against the wall, I take a deep breath, the scent of Ethan invades me all over again. I have to get out of here, this can’t happen. This isn’t me, the crying, the longing for something I can’t have. Picking myself off the floor, I flood my face with cold water. On legs like Jello, I stumble out of his bathroom, down the hall, and into the living room, where I’m bathed in bright sunlight.
Blinking, I make my way to the wall of glass, it’s this place, the same way this place is Ethan. Stunning, unlike anything thing I’ve ever known. I don’t belong here, even as a housekeeper I’m out of my league. While I can fake it, it won’t be long before I’m shown to be the pretender I am.
Looking down on the city fills me with awe, this is real. I’m here now, and no one can take this memory from me. Even if I’m just here to clean the windows, this is my view. The knot unfurls in my chest and I push away from the window. If I didn’t get to work, it wouldn’t be my view for long.
Cora had shown me how to use the canister vacuum that had seemed odd, having never even seen one before. She advised me to run it only every other day on the carpets, which were valuable and delicate, but the vacuum was excellent for the hardwood floors. I run the vacuum carefully over the carpets, then the hardwood. I’m impressed, and in love with this vacuum.
Cleaning done, I go into Ethan’s office. On the open laptop, I email to connect with his secretary. My email to her is brief, introducing myself, letting her know if there’s anything I can do, to let me know. While I wait for her response, I go through the file simply labeled home. There is a spreadsheet for his bills. The cells contain everything: his household bills from his cable and internet bill, to credit cards. Then there are links to the websites to pay online and the due date for each bill. In the corner of the spreadsheet is a credit card to be used. Thankfully, Cora had paid all of the bills for this month. She advised most of the bills were due on or around the same day of the month, so she always paid them on the same day to make it easy for her.
A tone goes off letting me know an email came in. I see the response from his secretary. I’m floored by the angry, short response from the woman. Okay, I’ll make sure just to go through his schedule synced on the phone that had been given to Cora, now mine. His work laptop is synced with his home laptop because Ethan Bishop didn’t do anything so lowly as carry his laptop to and from work.
Yesterday, Cora and I went shopping for both home items and groceries. I was given a printout on when to buy everything from his shampoo, to toothpaste, and his cologne, along with where to buy them. It’s just after six thirty. I get up and walk the condo, shit, I forgot the bags on his suits. He hated them to remain on his suits and wanted the suits moved from the wire hangers the cleaners put them on to the hard plastic hangers he preferred.
His schedule has him at work until eight. Cora had said he usually had dinner out. However, she usually left something in case he came straight home. Dinner is salmon, navy beans mashed with a splash of olive oil, and French cut green beans. I make enough for myself too, as Cora said it was fine to eat from what was in the kitchen. Then I leave a note instructing him to put it in the toaster oven for six minutes and it would be ready.
Cleaning the kitchen again. I leave at a little after seven. I walk slowly toward the El, then, as usual, get off three stops before the stop for my apartment. Walking into the bookstore, I find the book I’ve been reading, then go to the café to find an empty seat. When the warning goes out of the store closing soon, I put the book back and go home.
Chapter Six
Finishing the contract, I attach a note to Sharon that it’s ready to be sent over for signatures. As I do, I see it’s a little after seven. I’m not hiding from Holly, this is work. My cock is hard again at the idea of her in those threadbare tight jeans and the way they clung to her ass. Swallowing hard, I make a call to my building. The front desk tells me she left not long ago. Now I’m ready to go home.
When I walk through the door, I swear. It smells good in here, the lightest tinge of lemon hangs in the air. Nothing is out of place. In the kitchen, I’m thrown by how clean it is. There’s a note on the refrigerator telling me there is a plate for dinner. I open the door to find the plate of food that looks like it came from a restaurant.
Curious, I take it out then follow the instructions. It had been sitting on parchment paper and nothing sticks when I slide it off from the toaster oven. Taking it into the dining room, I taste the salmon, fuck it’s good. I’m curious about the mashed navy beans, I’ve never had them this way, they are damned good. Even the green beans are perfectly seasoned, with a hint of a crunch to them. No way is she a better cook than Cora, this was a one-time thing. I bet she can’t do lasagna this well. My plate clean, I rinse it off then put it into the dishwasher.
No fucking way, is the inside of the dishwasher whiter than the last time I saw it? Where is the scent of cherries coming from? I wonder, as I make my way out of the kitchen. Changing out of my suit, I see she got the dry cleaning and changed out the hangers. I undress down to my boxers before climbing into bed and turn on the television. Ignoring the inner voice wondering why I’m at home in bed when I could be out at the best clubs pussy hunting, or hell, even client hunting.
Fuck, I smell cherries again. On the sheets, it was Holly. I remember a trace of cherries when I shook her hand and felt the sting of attraction to her. Forcing my eyes closed, I fight my cock getting hard at the thought of her in my bed.
This was ridiculous. The day after tomorrow I have an invitation to a party where I will have my choice of women. I’ll find one there to get Holly off my mind. Fine, the place was cleaner, smelled nicer, and the food was better than Cora had done in a few years. She had fucked up my toast this morning, besides, this was only day one.
****
The next morning everything is perfectly timed and tastes exactly the way I like it. It had been on my mind all morning. As I leave I decide not to let it go. “Holly, do you wear some sort of perfume with cherries in it?”
Looking up from the counter she’s wiping, she looks up and nods. “Yes.”
“I want you to stop wearing it.”