The Convenient Wife

Sighing, Emily gives me a soft smile. “I’ve got the perfect thing. One of these days I’ll get you in a dress, though.” Going back into her closet, she starts rummaging through the rack. “And a nice pair of fuck-me pumps.”

Giggling, I walk to her dresser and start looking through her earrings. “Great, so you want me to be half naked and break an ankle. Some friend you are.”

Poking her head out of the closet, she smirks. “As long as you’re half naked and break your ankle because the sex with some dude gets rough, it’ll all be worth it.”

Laughing out loud, I look in the mirror and rest a dangly blue feather earring against my earlobe. “I actually like these earrings.”

“Good, because they’ll match this.”

Turning to face her, Em is holding a pair of black dress pants, with a white and blue blouse, and a pair of blue flats. The smile on her face is endless as she wiggles the pants side to side. “Better?”

“Better,” I say.

“Good,” she says, smiling with a devilish grin. “Now, about your makeup. . .”

3

Starla

I’m standing in Sheckler Distillery, about to meet Bolt Sheckler, and I’ve never been more nervous in my life.

The building is brick, and wire caged lights hang from the ceiling on long chains, all of them holding Edison bulbs, giving the room a very old fashioned, industrial look.

The raw, bare feel of the space, the way the ceilings are open and you can see the beams, the way the floor is dark wood, and the windows are wrapped in iron; I love the place instantly.

“Hello, I’m Yale Bradson, assistant to Bolt Sheckler. I’d like to welcome you to Sheckler Distillery. We’re heading in here,” he says as he opens a door, and I’m struck by a sweet scent that hits me in the face.

It smells good, and I find myself inhaling longer, deeper breaths. The scent makes my stomach twirl, causing my thighs to squeeze together and my chest to hitch.

“Mr. Sheckler, this is the woman I was telling you about, Starla Bishop.” Yale takes a long stride into the room, but I’m not ready, so I stay outside the door, hiding in his shadow with my toes touching the threshold.

Stepping to the side, he exposes where I’m hiding. There’s nothing blocking me anymore, and I instantly sense a set of eyes as they look me up and down, covering every inch of my body.

“Come in.” Mr. Sheckler’s voice is deep, the baritone sound cuts through my body, and chills scamper down my spine.

Intimidation isn’t a feeling I’m used to, but this man gives it a new meaning. The sensation was a mix of hot and cold, of nerves and butterflies, of anxiety and fear. I was a mess with no real direction to go.

Taking a short step into the room, I finally lift my head to see a man perched behind a giant desk with his hands folded in front of his face. There’s a shadow blanketing him, and all I can make out are his eyes.

Bright, bold, green orbs are peering at me from the other side of the room, they’re intense, I can feel them on my skin, making the hair stand up on the back of my neck.

They move from my face down my throat and over my chest. Inhaling a sharp breath as his eyes hover over my breasts, my chest snaps out hard, and the man smiles, exposing bright white teeth. I can’t control this, the way my body is responding to just his eyes.

Another wave of shivers washes down my body as I stand silently, waiting for him, frozen in place by his unrelenting stare. I want to move, to take a bold step forward and make him see me, not the timid girl that has suddenly taken over my body. This girl came out of nowhere, I don’t even recognize who she is.

Pull it together, Star!

You get one chance, don’t fuck it up!

“Hello,” I say, “I’m Star—”

“I know who you are. We sent for you, remember?”

My cheeks flush with embarrassment, I can sense the apple red shade as it spreads up from my neck and over the sides of my face. I can’t stop it, there’s nothing I can do, so I swallow hard and stiffen my back, determined to grab this bull by the horns.

“Right,” I say, gripping my clutch tighter as if that will make all the butterflies vanish.

Holding a red folder snugly against his chest, Yale smirks at his boss. “Shall we get started?” Yale looks over at Bolt, his eyes waiting for the green light. He doesn’t say anything else, allowing this awkward silence to fill the room.

Bolt gives the slightest of nods and Yale responds immediately by opening the folder in his hands. Clearing his throat, there’s another agonizing moment of silence before his voice flows.