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A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

Prologue

By S. MariePublished 6 years ago 4 min read
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“Stacey, I’m telling you, he was a total dick! I even offered to show the guy some of our high-end houses—though I know he couldn’t afford them—and he told me to go fuck myself! Can you believe that?”

37-year-old Maggie Harper babbled into her cellphone as she kicked off her high heels and busied herself in the kitchen. She had had an extremely busy day at work and she was looking forward to settling down in front of the TV with a glass of wine and some leftover lasagna from the night before. Grabbing the plate from the fridge, Maggie tossed it in the microwave and moved to grab a wine glass from the cabinet.

“He accused me of discriminating against him based on his looks,” Maggie continued as she grabbed a bottle of red wine and poured it into her glass. “True, I may have made some assumptions when I first saw him, but that didn’t change how I interacted with him. I treat everyone the same.”

Maggie was the top realtor at Estep Realty in downtown Baltimore, and she had closed more deals than any other agent at the office. That coupled with her close friendship with the owner, Stacey Estep, helped her to excel far in her career. She now lived in an expensive condo in suburban Baltimore where she fed her expensive habits with pricy artwork and fancy wines.

“Stacey, he wouldn’t even look! Can you believe that? The first thing every guy does when they meet me is check me out. This guy just kept looking down and he would hardly ever make eye contact. The only time he actually looked me right in the eyes was when he told me to fuck myself and stormed out.”

For being 37, Maggie was still exceptionally attractive. Her weekly trips to the gym left her with a thin, toned body. Her breasts were generous and perky, and her skin did not betray her age. Even her hair held its natural blonde color, giving her the appearance of a much younger woman. This, too, aided in her being the top realtor in Baltimore as many men drooled over every word she said.

The microwaved dinged, drawing Maggie over to it. Grabbing her lasagna, she balanced the plate and the glass in her hands as she continued to talk on the phone. “Well, it’s his loss. Who knows? Maybe he’ll come back tomorrow and ask to see one of the houses again. He seemed interested, especially in the more private ones we have on file.”

Setting down her food and her wine, Maggie relaxed back in the couch and curled her toes in the fur rug under her feet. “He was kind of creepy! I honestly hope he doesn’t come back, but if he does I know how to get him. He won’t be able to say no to me twice!”

Maggie took a bite of her lasagna and sighed contently. It was Wednesday evening and she usually took Thursdays off. Her plan was to have a few glasses of wine and stay in bed late the next day. She had a nail appointment at 1, but that still gave her plenty of time to sleep late and be ready for her appointment.

Just as Maggie was about to take another bite of her lasagna, her doorbell rang. Sighing, she stuck the lasagna in her mouth and pretended that she didn’t hear the door. “Do you have any plans this weekend?”

The doorbell rang again, this time twice in a row. Whoever was there was persistent, and it was enough to get on Maggie’s nerves. “Stacey, can I call you back? Someone is ringing my doorbell. Yeah. Okay, see you Friday then.”

Hanging up, Maggie tossed her cellphone down on the couch and stood up. All she wanted was to enjoy her lasagna and her wine. Whoever was at her door was about to be in for a rude awakening.

The doorbell continued to ring as she made her way over to the door. Throwing it open, she glared at the figure standing on her doorstep. “Can I help you?” she growled.

A small elderly woman stood on the doorstep peering up at Maggie nervously. She appeared to be in her seventies with curly gray hair and large bifocals perched on her nose. She was hunched over with a heavy green shawl pulled over her shoulders, and a floral blue dress hanging loosely on her frame. “I’m sorry, dear. My car broke down and I was wondering if I could use your phone to call my daughter.”

Maggie felt a twinge of guilt. “Ummm...” she stammered awkwardly. “Of course you can use my phone. I’m sorry.”

The elderly woman smiled shyly. “Thank you. Which way is it?’

“It’s in here,” Maggie said as she led the elderly woman back through her house toward the living room. She didn’t notice the elderly woman shut and lock the door behind her.

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About the Creator

S. Marie

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