Lost Job

Here I am, bitter tears burning my cheeks, my body shaking from the cold, and I have no idea how I will afford to eat this week, how I will even live.

I laugh to myself thinking maybe now it is time to accept I can’t get a job, and just become a hooker, why did I even go to university? The fact is, even becoming a hooker sounds more appealing than going home.

“Excuse me, are you okay?” My body jumps as I look up and nod in response. The man stands there, holding his umbrella over my body, a gentle look on his face. I try to smile, but I can’t. He is looking at me weirdly, maybe because I am sitting on a street that is full of expensive businesses, and I probably right now look homeless.

“You don’t look it. Is everything okay?” He questions me again looking at me and waiting for my response. What’s the harm in telling him? Heck, it isn’t like I will ever see this guy again.

Here I am, Anaya, getting ready to tell a strange, random guy on the street about my issues because, let’s face it, I have no one else to talk to.

“Life, you know how it is. My dad pushed me to go to college and university, even left it in his will, well I did and no job, and two years later, and no job, everyone said no.” He doesn’t say anything as I continue.

“I wasted my life going to college, then university, and for what? Nothing, nothing at all.” I feel my anger rise as the tears fall quickly. Anger towards everything and everything right now, the whole world. He stretches out his arm towards me.

“I’m Marcus. Look, I need a personal assistant, and usually, it is one of my many workers who pick and choose them, but not today. If you’re willing to come to an interview, I will guarantee you get a yes at the end of it if you want the job, that is.” His words are quiet and quick as I laugh, my head shaking at him, I am not a fool. Personal assistant? Yeah right!

“Yeah, sure, let’s do it. I mean, where do you live? Because I am guessing that is the address you will give me for the interview. Maybe a hotel or is that too expensive, possibly a motel that you can pay for just the hour. Sorry, but no.” My mind screams at me, there I was thinking about how it doesn’t seem like too bad of an idea to become a hooker and I just shot him straight down.

Maybe I was wrong, and I am not willing to even consider it. I hear him laugh, it slowly getting louder as I look up at him. Passersby’s turning to see. His laugh is amazing, truly amazing. I watch as his hand slips into his pocket, and he shakes his head. He pulls out a card and holds it out to me.

“No, by a personal assistant, I mean someone to help me with personal things, yes, but not sex, not in any way at all. I am Marcus Mancini.” I take his card. I sit on the floor, looking up at him. His name doesn’t stand out. So, no doubt a small firm. I look at his card. Marcus Mancini Enterprises, it has no indication as to what he actually does, though.

I hear my mind now telling me off, I was so quick to assume he was trying to pay me for sex, why the hell would he even consider giving me his business card?

“Sorry, hard few years. I would be very grateful if you would be willing to still give me a chance, even after what I just accused you of.” I am a fool, of course, I am, he isn’t going to.

“Sure thing, the address is on there. I will see you tomorrow at 10 AM?” Is he questioning me? Surely, he should tell me when I should be there. I can’t afford to question him though; I need this job.

“That is fine thank you.” He nods and reaches out again, my hand taking his, as he pulls me up from the puddle, I was sitting in.

“This is for you to read through, it is about the job in more detail.” He hands me some papers in an envelope, nodding I take it from him. I should get home and read, so there is nothing I get wrong tomorrow.

“Thank you.” I turn to walk away, his hand still grasping mine.

“Take this, you are very wet, and well I would rather if you didn’t get wetter walking home.” He hands me his umbrella and walks off, my eyes watching him walk and get into a car, not a cheap one either. One I see as being a waste of money.

Okay, I can do this, of course, I can. Walking home I get in and change out of my wet clothes straight away. I hang up his umbrella, I will return it tomorrow. I walk in and sit down. Grabbing the envelope, I look at it. I should read them, so I know what I will be doing as his personal assistant. There could be things in there he will ask me about to check I read it, so that is all I will do tonight.

My hands pull out the papers, ignoring the cover I flip to the second page, my eyes widening at the words “The Brat consents”. I quickly turn back to the first page, my eyes catching the words.

“Brat And Master Contract.”

My hands begin placing it down. I hope that is not what he intended to give me. He said personal assistant and the first three words I read in this contract; tell me it is not a personal assistant job form. Surely it was a mistake? I accused him of trying to pay me for sex, surely, he wouldn’t have given me this if he had known?

I can’t stop myself though; my hand picks the papers back up as I begin reading more and more of it. Each time I read more I become more nervous and anxious and I should not go to the interview, yet I need the money. It isn’t like this is the first time I have heard some of these things. However, it is the first time I have seen it so in-depth, real and not just like something to play around and test.

Tomorrow is going to end in me having the job, but, I am unsure if I will mention to him that he gave me the wrong papers. I need to sleep, going there and looking worn out, while looking like I am starving and homeless won’t be a good look.

Rolling over, I go to sleep, the words from the contract flying through my mind, my dreams shifting into brief visions relating to his contract. I feel myself turning and unsettled.

Part Two

Waking up I feel far more tired than before I went to sleep. My mind instantly thinks about that contract, why am I so obsessed with it? I try to forget about it, my mind telling me questions he might ask, and how best to answer them.

I get ready and begin the walk to the address on his card, the contract in my bag. Why I brought it I don’t know, but I felt I should have. I am still not sure if I am going to point out he gave me the wrong one or not.

I look at the building. Mancini is written in large letters on the front. I’m shaking as I prepare myself to go in, yet I don’t want to. I know I should, I don’t even know what the company is.

My mistake, I spent all night reading his contract I didn’t consider searching and finding out about the company. What if he asks me what I think of the company?

I can’t even answer that. I go to walk in, yet I can’t, I need this job even if he has a side of him I don’t feel comfortable with. I stand looking at the building, time seems to be passing me by, as I keep glancing at the clock, watching as it moves. I should have been in there twenty minutes ago, I am late.

Why I am so afraid to walk in there I don’t know. I laugh slightly, I know why. I have the words of that contract burned into my head and now my mind is playing games with me, telling me that is what he wants.

Maybe I should leave? I am late now, so no doubt he will be busy. Giving my head a wobble, I walk through the doors; a young man stood waiting.

“Miss Delcox?” I nod looking at him. He is short and thin, but clearly very well-educated. My eyes begin glancing around. Why is everyone dressed so casually? I look down at myself; I am overdressed, way too overdressed.

“This way. Mr Mancini has been waiting for you.” I nod and follow. Why am I so quiet? I can’t just nod in response to everything and I certainly cannot get through the interview nodding. He has been waiting. Surely after 5 minutes, he should have said to tell me I am too late.

He guides me to a door opening, Marcus sat there at the desk. He looks up and smiles at me.

“I assumed you were not coming and had changed your mind?” He looks at me. Is that a question? I believe it is, even if it isn’t, I need to speak.

“No, sorry I was just running a little late.” Okay, so I lied, maybe not the best start to this job interview, but what is the other option? I was standing outside debating if I should come in after reading your contract. Yeah, lying is the best thing right now.

“Come in and sit down.” Nodding, I do. My mind goes back to the guy, he knew my name.

“Wait a minute, how did he know my name?” I never gave it to Marcus, so how did the other guy know it?

“Not that hard, Miss Delcox. You see, I work closely with the firm that declined your application. A simple phone call and I was able to get your name.” His response seems genuine; still weird though.

“Anyway, how did you find the contract, the terms inside it, the jobs you may be required to do from time to time?” His words make me look at him. My cheeks begin to fluster as my heart rate speeds up. I can’t deny it or lie. What happens if he asks me a question about it?

“Erm, well.” I move and grab the contract out of my bag and place it on the desk.

“You gave me the wrong one.” His eyes glance down, and the shock is evident on his face. He clearly had not meant to give me that one.

“I am so sorry, Miss Delcox. Please accept my apologies, for I carry a few contracts around with me. I am truly sorry.” He quickly grabs it, shoving it in his drawer. His hand reaches into his case and hands me a different one.

He looks ashamed slightly, I feel bad and like I need to make him feel safe that I don’t think it was bad.

“Hey, no worries, Mr. Mancini. It was excellent bedtime reading material.” Okay, that was wrong, maybe I shouldn’t have read it? Okay, no I should not have read it, maybe I shouldn’t have admitted to reading it? I am not getting this job.

“You read it?” He looks shocked. Maybe now I have lost the job for sure, and before even being interviewed? Time to grovel and apologise.

“I did, and I apologise for that. It was clearly invading your personal space. I didn’t look at the cover, I just flipped it open and began reading. Then afterwards, I just couldn’t stop reading it. Again, I am sorry. I should have respected your personal space.” Only now have I realised what I have done. Anyone else would have put it down and not read it, but me? No, I did.

“It is fine, Miss Delcox. Honestly, call me Marcus. As my personal assistant, you may from time to time be printing these off anyway. I was just surprised it interested you enough to want to read.” His voice is low as he sits looking at me, and all I can do is nod in response.

“So, what I will need help with. You will be my personal assistant, here and outside of work. I may from time to time invite you to an event as a sort of escort—none sexual of course—but you will be paid for your time with me. You will be writing up contracts, ensuring I make all my appointments, and pretty general stuff, to be honest.” Once again, I nod. What is wrong with me? I need to speak.

“That all sounds fine with me. Can I ask what the dress code is?” He looks at me and laughs slightly.

“Sorry, I should have told you. I don’t like the whole suited-and-booted rule. If you’re comfortable like that, sure, but as long as you do not show up in jogging bottoms and a baggy jumper, you are fine. Smart casual is fine. I will however always be seen in a suit as I go to meetings.” He seems so relaxed, a little too relaxed to be someone’s boss.

“Okay, that is great.” He nods at my response.

“Now, please tell me about you. I like to get to know my employees on a personal level, so then I know who they really are.” Nodding, I open my mouth to answer, closing it again. What parts should I share with him? Should I share everything or just the good parts? Do I go into details about being the sixteen-year-old who lost her baby and turned to drugs? I shouldn’t, even I know that shouldn’t be said.

“I am 26, born in the country, and my dad raised me alone till I was 22 when he passed away. I was a model student in school, went to college and to university studying business, law, counselling, and accounting.” I guess a slight lie, there and parts missing but they are not important. I go to carry on, but his hand lifts up stopping me.

“Why so many different courses?” He looks at me questioningly.

“Well, I was always going to do business and accounting, but then after my dad had an issue and needed a lawyer, I decided to do law as well, and the counselling, well, I don’t know. I just wanted to do something that could help people on a personal level, not just business. I got scholarships, so after one university degree I moved on to the next.” It was tiring, that is for sure, but well worth it—or I thought it would have been anyway.

“So, I hope this is not too personal, but relationships? Your close friends and partners, how much commitment do you need for them?” His question throws me, yet another question I can answer easily, but at the same time, I am not sure I should tell the truth.

“My friends are all miles away. I moved cities to find new work and clearly failed at that. And no partner, the last two years I have not wanted that commitment while trying to find a job and settle down here.” Truth; I can’t lie and then somehow have so much free time on my hands.

“Okay, well, Miss Delcox, if you are willing to take the job, then it is yours.” He looks at me waiting for my response.

“Sorry if this seems rude, but why? Surely, you have a drawer full of applications for this job. Why just give it to me without checking my experience?” Maybe I shouldn’t be asking this, but I feel I need to.

“Well, firstly, yesterday you were like a damsel in distress, and well, I can’t have you staying like that. Second, I am an outstanding judge of character, and you, Anaya, seem perfect for the job. I guess a third thing would be sometimes you have to take risks to move forward. Here, I am taking a risk.” Nodding, I say nothing else. His reasons are enough.

“So, is that a yes?” He looks at me waiting.

“Yes, I would love the job.” He smiles and stands up.

“Great, let me show you around while I explain the business, and if you are not busy tonight, I have a business meeting I need someone to accompany me to?” He looks at me. This seems to be going too quickly, but I need the job.

“Of course.”

He smiles as we walk out the door and he shows me around the building. The building is big, and he introduces me to the main people I will be speaking to daily. He has done well for himself, that is for sure, but I love the fact the place is relaxed; no one stressing over getting work done. Sure had I known what the business was before I came into this building I would probably not have shown up for the interview.

“Anyway, that is everything. Let’s get the paperwork signed.” We walk back into his office and I begin signing the paperwork, including a confidentiality form. The last form I read through is how much I will be paid, but to be honest, I don’t care. Anything is better than nothing.

“All done.” I smile and slide the forms across to him.

“Great, tonight at seven I will pick you up, and you start work here tomorrow.” Nodding, I stand up.

“Thank you.” I stretch out my hand and he shakes it as I go to leave, but my hand stops on the handle and I turn back to him.

“What sort of meeting is it? Sorry, I just don’t know what sort of thing to wear.” I don’t, and to be honest, if it is a sit-down meal type thing, nothing I have in my cupboard is suitable. I highly doubt a little black club dress will impress—well, not in the right way anyway.

“We are going to El Nicho. If you do not have something suitable, let me know. We have company cards to cover extras such as these.” I begin shaking my head, but in reality, I need it. I am overdrawn so I can’t even pretend I had something and buy something new.

This job isn’t as easy as I thought it would be, now I have to admit I don’t have the money to buy a dress.

“That would be helpful, I don’t have anything suitable for there.” He nods and picks up the phone. Talking quickly, he smiles, and a woman walks through the door handing him something before quickly leaving again.

“Here is the card, there is no limit. Ensure you have the correct shoes and accessories to go with the dress, bring the card to work tomorrow, and it will go under business expenses.” Nodding, I take the card and leave, and my next few hours are spent walking around shops having no luck.

Part Three

Everything costs hundreds, if not more, I can’t spend that much. I have no choice though, my hand stops on a silver dress, a long and a trumpet-type of dress, picking it up I don’t look at the price.

If I do, I know I will just put it back down, so I carry it across the shop, grab shoes and a bag to match, and place them all on the counter as she begins to scan them.

“Can you not tell me the prices please?” The counter assistant looks at me confused.

“Please? Honestly, if I know how much it costs, I will put it back.” She simply nods.

“Okay, well, I am not sure what to say, but it needs to be paid for. How will you pay?” I hand her the card and watch as the dress gets paid for, I would never shop here,

I rush home and get ready, with barely minutes left to sit. I look around me, realising that he is coming here, sure not inside, but outside, what will he think? It’s the worst place in town.

I hear the doorbell, grab my jacket and rush down, opening the door he stands there in a suit.

My eyes take in the sight of him, with his muscles slightly visible under his shirt, and his rough and rugged beard perfect. I am staring!

“Hello, Miss Delcox.” He smiles and holds out his hand.

“Please just call me Anaya.” He nods, smiling, as my hand loops through his and we walk to the car and stay quiet as we drive to the restaurant, Marcus also looks awkward and out of place.

“Did you find a dress okay?” He turns looking at me.

“I did yes, thank you.” Okay a little lie, but still I did find one.

“That is good. So how long have you lived in your apartment?” There it is, the one thing I did not want to talk about. The judgement on where I live, how I live in one of the worst places, and to be honest I never even considered that when writing down my address.

“Since I moved here, it is not too bad, to be honest.” Okay, another lie, I am constantly getting broken into, and there is constant noise outside, but for now, it is the cheapest place I can find.

“Surely there is somewhere better?” He looks at me waiting. Sure, there is, but with no money at all, this is my only option. I am regretting taking this job now.

“There is, but not until my money is sorted and I am settled down.” I move, my body feeling weird. I feel weird talking about this.

“Anyway, that dress is perfect. I see that you have some amazing taste.” He smiles, and I see his eyes flicker down towards my legs and then back up to my eyes.

“Thank you.” What else can I say?

The car stops and the door is opened. We get out and walk in together. The meal is long and painfully boring, and I find myself glancing around trying to occupy my mind. I should listen, it is about the company, but I just can’t, my mind just wants to sleep.

“Dance?” I turn to see Marcus standing next to me, his hand reaching out waiting. Standing up, I take his hand as he guides me to the dance floor, his hand on my back as we slowly move to the music. My eyes look into his, and there it is—the sparkle, the want, and the need. My head moves forward and my lips press against his.

A moan escapes my mouth, as my hands grasp his shirt, and pull him closer, but his body steps backwards.

“Sorry, that was wrong of me.” He looks genuinely sorry. I am not. And all I can think about is doing it again.

“No need to apologise, I was the one who made the move.” He nods still standing away from me like he is trying to stay safe. I can’t blame him, lawsuit or what?

“I think it’s time to get you home.” He turns and I begin to follow. I was a fool for kissing him. Why the hell did I kiss him anyway? Seriously. I know now I have lost my job. If not it will be awkward anyway.

Driving home, we stay quiet. The awkwardness in the air, yet all I can do is want to pull him to me and kiss him again. My breathing is too fast, my mind replaying the slight kiss over and over and the feeling of wanting him.

Getting out, he walks me to the door. My hand goes into my bag, trying to search for my keys (failing).

“Everything okay?” I wish it was. Tonight, cannot get any worse.

“I locked my keys inside.” I forgot to grab them, and now here I am, stuck outside and this is going to cost me so much money to get back inside.

“Okay, do you have a spare?” I shake my head no I don’t.

“Well, I can’t leave you here outside all night. You can come and stay at mine.” We get back into the car.

“I have spare rooms. Don’t worry, tomorrow I will call someone I know to get into the flat for you.” Nodding, I sit quietly. My eyes constantly glance at him, his eyes are fixed forward like he is avoiding looking at me.

Is he pissed off I kissed him? Why did he have to push me away?

We get out and walk into the building, his hand brushing against my thigh as he walks past me. My heart is pounding, wanting him, he turns and faces me, grabbing and pulling me to him, his lips fiercely claiming mine.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” His voice is soft.

“Who cares?” I grab him, pulling him closer, and his kiss becomes forceful. His fingers pull at my dress.

This is going to be the end of my job, that is for sure. I should really stop myself, but I just can’t. My hands continue to grab him and pull him to me. His hands slide down my body. Cupping my arse, he goes to lift me. My legs go to wrap around him, but my dress doesn’t allow it.

My frustration rises at the dress getting in the way. His head rests on my shoulder, his arms setting me on my feet.

“Damn this dress.” His words are followed by the sound of ripping as the dress is torn open, his hands once again grabbing me and lifting me. My legs wrap around him as he pushes me against the wall, my hands pulling at his shirt hearing the buttons fall to the floor. My moans sound around the hall as his hands pull at my underwear, tearing them from me.

“Mmmm.” The sound escaping his lips makes the wetness between my legs grow, as I feel his shaft harden beneath his trousers.

“I can’t do this.” His head lowers, and I can feel it shaking.

“I am sorry, Anaya. I will get you a place in a hotel. This is wrong.” He’s right, but I am not letting this end. Hell, I have lost my job, I may as well do it now.

“Fuck me. Please just fuck me.” His head raises, and his eyes look into mine with interest.

“Please Marcus, just this once. If you don’t, I am going to go crazy thinking about how this could have felt. Just fuck me.” What am I doing? I am begging him, really? It has been so long, and for some reason he makes me lose control.

“Fuck it.” His words shock me, as he starts kissing down my neck, his hand sliding between my legs, a moan escaping his mouth. He doesn’t stop. His fingers begin to rub my sex, as my hands try to open his trousers. His hand moves and I almost moan through frustration.

His hands wrap around my body and carry me through the house, laying me on the bed; I look down. The dress is destroyed, beautifully destroyed and for a fantastic cause. His body moves, climbing over mine, his hand stroking along my body as his mouth kisses along me. Moaning I push my hips up trying to get closer to his lips, my hands grabbing him trying to pull him to me. He moves, his hands moving mine away from his body and he continues to tease, my hands once again catching him trying to get him closer to me.

He moves back, climbing further up my body, his hands grabbing mine and pinning them above my head. The feel of something wrapping around them makes me look up. Rope? Is he really tying my hands together with rope, and not just together but to the bed? I feel the panic rise inside me, the words for that contract flying through my head at a rapid speed, I had forgotten about that.

His lips push against mine, and all thoughts go, everything and once again, all I want is him. My hands fight against the rope to grab him but are unable to, my frustration rises as he gently kisses me.

“Fuck me.” My words are loud, I am tired of his teasing, tired of his gentleness.

“You want me to stop teasing?” Do I? I don’t even know, it has been so long I don’t know what I want.

“Or is it the soft and gentleness that is driving you insane?” His eyes look at me as his head lowers, his teeth biting down on my nipple, a scream escaping my mouth.

“Do you prefer it rough? Is that why you can’t take anymore already?” His hands grab my body and spin me over onto my stomach, the sharp sting of his hand across my arse making me scream.

“No? You don’t like it?” He needs to stop talking and teasing.

“Yes.” My words are quiet.

“Sorry, I won’t be rough.” His hands grab my hips, and I have my head.

“No, I liked it, don’t stop.” My words quiet as I feel his hand stroke along my body, his mouth kissing where his fingers once touched. His hand rests just above my arse. The feel of the sharp sting makes me scream and jump as his hand hits my arse again.

I want my arms free, I want to grab him, pull him to me, and force him to do more to me now.

But what is more? I know I want more. I just don’t know what it is. He keeps kissing my back, every now and then his hand hitting down over my arse. My mouth bites on his pillow to silence my screams and stop me from pleading with him to just fuck me.

His hands grasp my hips, lifting me onto my knees, the feel of his cock pushing against my sex, my hips rocking back onto him slowly, a moan escaping my mouth as I do. His hands grip my hips tight, his hips thrusting fast and hard, making me scream, my hands grabbing the rope.

He keeps going, and I feel the orgasm arise. Moaning, I lean against him, as I feel my body going to collapse forward, his hand grasping my throat as he continues to thrust harder, his own moans echoing mine as he finally finishes and releases me.

My body slumps onto the bed, the silence of the room allowing my thoughts to start up. What have I just done? I have for sure lost my job now. I can’t exactly work there now, can I?

The thoughts swarm my head as I feel Marcus unfasten my hands, his body lying next to mine as his hand strokes my back and slowly sleep takes me away, only to plague me more with the mistake I just made.

I've lost this job, even I know I have.