Authors: Elizabeth Lowe
An empty glass of
whiskey propelling and smashing against the wall sent splinters of glass
flying.
Fuming still, he stabbed the
desk pad with a pen.
The Keller merger
would clear Ted's gambling debt therefore no longer would he feel obligated to
do his bidding.
Without the deal, it
would annihilate his company.
He would
lose everything he spent years accruing, and if that happened, the people
responsible would pay dearly.
Susan's entrance temporarily distracted hideous thoughts. “Well, took you
long enough, bitch.
You must think I
have all day.”
“No, sir.”
“Shut the goddamn door and sit your tight ass down.”
“Yes, sir.”
“God, you're an irritating little slut.
Is that all you know how to say?”
“No, sir.”
Beady eyes raking Susan
gawked at the swells exposed by a skintight sweater scooped at the neck.
Lust moistened his mouth.
Warmth and pressure awakened between his legs
making the collar around his neck suddenly feel as though it was choking
him.
Loosening the knot of his tie, his rotund
body rose from the chair.
“You are to contact all the members of the board immediately.
There will be a meeting here tomorrow at nine
A.M. sharp.
No excuses.”
“Yes, sir.”
His eyes bored through Susan.
“Sorry, sir.
I mean, Mr. Somers.”
Susan lowered her eyes to
her pad, unable to look into the squinted dull, gray depths of those radiating
lust.
It took great effort not to panic,
to sit inert thinking he had waited longer to make his move than expected.
Men's cravings were not new to her; her body
had given many men pleasure.
To keep her
job, she would close her eyes and pretend it was someone else, she decided.
Besides, a man in his fifties could not pose too big a threat; he probably had
difficulty getting a hard on.
Raping Susan in his
mind, contemplating the many ways he was going to fuck her, Howard rounded the
corner of his desk.
Kinky thoughts made
perspiration bead on his baldhead.
Reaching the door, stubby fingers twisted the lock.
At the sound of the
click, Susan jumped.
She was wrong.
Plainly evident as he passed was the
magnitude of Somers desire.
Warmth from
his presence permeating behind made revolt nip her skin.
With his concentration
drawn to his loins, Howard was proud of how quickly Susan aroused him.
I'll fix those bastards tomorrow, he
mused.
Right now Susan was upper most in
his mind.
An hour later, lipstick
smeared, hair straight from sweat, with clothing in disarray, Susan ambled to
her desk.
Snatching a tissue, she
dabbed at a lip where Howard's teeth had nipped.
Pain shot to her numbed brain as she
carefully lowered her aching body onto the chair.
Aware a client was due any minute, she
collected her purse.
Shaky hands
withdrew makeup and a mirror that revealed the red welts in the shape of a
hand.
Wincing and moaning she swept away
a tear. Retrieving the small bottle of skin colored liquid, she camouflaged the
hickeys on her neck and breasts.
Never
again would she underestimate the virility of a man in his fifties.
Suppressing pitching rage, she recovered the
one hundred dollar bill nestled between her breasts.
CHAPTER 13
“OCTOBER 2010”
While
Ted and Sam toured New York, Brad maintained a stressful boring routine.
Deciding it was wise to move out of the
penthouse the day Sam moved in he requisitioned a suite at the renowned Plaza
Hotel a block away from the office building.
Although he had convinced himself the decision would allow Ted and Sam
privacy, subconsciously he knew it was because of the uneasy feelings he felt
for Sam.
One
week flowing into another became a vicious cycle.
Working until exhausted, he would return to
his suite just before dawn, and then wake by lunchtime to cram down nourishment
before returning to the office.
When
the pressures became oppressive, he broke away to have a few beers with Ralph,
the one person who appeased his craving for intelligent conversation and
deterred him from dwelling on thoughts of Ted and Sam.
Though such conversations eased the tension
and lightened his mood, all too often he drank excessively awaking the
following day in Ralph's apartment oblivious as to how he had gotten
there.
Bernice
was a server at the bar they frequented.
She had not seen Ted since Sam arrived.
For the life of her, she could not understand what he saw in the plain
skinny little twerp who, she assumed, knew nothing about satisfying a man with
an appetite like Ted's. Relatively unimportant reflections, Bernie concluded,
considering her goal did not include Ted. She was naïve enough to believe that
her involvement with Ted would improve her chances with Brad the sight of which
alone excited her more than any of the male species she had known.
Jeans and a tee shirt looked more elegant on
Brad than a tuxedo on anyone else.
One
night in bed with him, that is all she wanted, to satisfy her dreams of the
many ways she would please him.
The
reason she made certain the other female servers knew Brad was off limits.
Purposely leaning in close when taking his
orders, her hot breath tickling his ear, she hoped he would notice her
endowments, and, the short skirt ending at her panties revealing long, lissome
legs.
Ralph
often wondered why Brad never took advantage of Bernie’s obvious propositions,
advances enough to entice any potent man, including himself.
Chuckling inwardly, he thought how shocked
Bernie would be if she knew his capabilities.
Concluding
another hellish day, with aching exhaustion saying the hour was late, having
had one too many cups of coffee, Brad’s glance sought a window.
Outside the fog hovered, and the rain swept
streets were glimmering like dark silvery bands under the glowing
streetlights.
Staring at the magnificent
skyline of the city reminded him of the jutting peaks of the Teton’s.
Suddenly, he began to shake.
Perspiration beaded on his forehead.
He felt as though he would vomit.
Despite
his success and wealth, a terrible emptiness made him question what it was that
he lacked.
Nothing he told himself. Yet,
for the past year, it was as if he had been aimlessly searching for something,
anything, to feel complete again, to stop the loneliness.
For unknown reasons he felt frozen on the
ladder of life not knowing which way to go.
Requiring
all the strength remaining, he lumbered to the coffee pot, forgetting he drank
the last cup hours ago before Maggie left.
Earlier in the day, it disturbed him that she had to remind him it was
the end of October.
Unbelievably eight
weeks had vanished.
Deciding
to go home, on his way out, discovering Ralph gone brought a wave of disappointment
crashing over him.
Glancing at his
watch, he grimaced.
It was three
A.M.
Surely, Ralph was home asleep.
The bars closed.
Anxiety
gripped every filament of his keyed up body.
Alone another night in the hotel with thoughts of Sam wiggling their way
into his dreams would drive him insane.
He had only seen Ted and Sam briefly, each encounter enough to intrude
upon what few hours of fitful sleep he mustered.
The sight of her alone brought on a rush of
heat that made him blush.
Now he wondered if Ted
was, kissing her sweet, full lips, touching her firm breasts, positioned
between her shapely legs.
If he, was
using her like all the others, or really loved her.
“Get
a grip man,” he scolded.
“What
difference does it make to you?
Sam is trouble,
big time, certainly not for you.
You are
just horny, that is all.
Dammit, since
when did you allow a female to get the best of you? If you don’t confront Ted
and make him accountable, the life you're leading will kill you.”
It
had been a long dry spell all right, he was in desperate need of a woman,
someone to hold, to kiss,
to
. . .
“ Christ, I can't take any more of this
shit,”
his sputtering out loud turning
the heads of passing pedestrians.
Flagging down a taxi, he bellowed an address and vowed he would settle
things with Ted first thing in the morning.
..........................................................................................................................................................................................................................………………………..……………………………………….............
Was
that the doorbell?
No, it couldn't be,
Bernie thought.
Rolling over, cracking
one eyelid, she peeked at the clock’s neon face.
Dear Lord, it was three thirty A.M.
She was dreaming, no doubt.
No idiot would be at her door at this
hour.
Moaning, she burrowed her head
further into the pillow.
Again
the buzzer sounded.
Dream hell!
“O.K., knock it off, I'm coming,” she
yelled.
Grumbling obscenities, the pads
of her feet met the icy floor.
With cool
air raising goose bumps on her skin, she grabbed her red silk bathrobe off the
chair.
Half- asleep, it never occurred
to her to turn on the lights, bumping into a table on her way, exacerbated her
mood. “Shit!”
Relentlessly the bell
rang.
“Hold your Goddamn horses. You,
damn well, better be my favorite movie star or God himself for waking me at
this hellish hour,” she grumbled like a bear.
Placing an eye against the door
viewer, she jerked back, scrubbed sleep from her eyes and peered again.
Surely she was dreaming, it couldn’t be.
“Brad!”
“Let me in, sweetheart.”
Vanity
shaking her awake brought fingers to a tangled mass of curls.
Purposely arranging her robe to bare her breasts,
trying not to sound overly anxious, she purred, “Just a minute, doll face.”
Silently
she cursed the lock, “Now is a hell of a time for you not to work, come on,
dammit, open!”
Trembling hands toyed
with the tumbler that always refused to work whenever she wanted it to the
most.
A
split second later Brad stood before her, his overcoat soaked with rain,
droplets dripping from drenched curls.
It was obvious something was wrong.
He was unsteady on his feet, and his face revealed an unhappiness, and
loneliness that seemed strange. There were dark, puffy circles underlining
lifeless, black, blood shot eyes.
A
beard painted a shadow on his face.
Her
hand came hard to her chest no one ever knew looked as appetizing she
thought.
Now, all that mattered, Brad
was within reach, desperate and her heartbeat was registering a ten on a
Richter scale.