Page 10 of Dirty Little Secret, Baby
I blink and rub my sleepy eyes. For a moment I don't know where I am, but then it all comes back in a rush.
Alex. The sex and everything after. After the first round, we showered together and did it again right there. Then I really wanted to show him what a blowjob is, and he very audibly enjoyed it. He told me doggy style is his favorite position and spanked my ass, gently at first and then harder—the sting still lingers.
My shame creeps back in, along with the headache I probably owe the caipirinhas. A black, curly strand falls into my face and I know exactly how I must look. I turn slowly to check if Alex is still asleep before I slip quietly into the bathroom next door and...
... to my surprise, I realize I'm alone in bed. Maybe Alex is in the bathroom? I get up, wrap a blanket around me, tiptoe toward the bathroom, and see that no one’s there either.
Maybe he's making us breakfast? But as I think that, a small doubt creeps in: does a man who owns a house like this, throws parties like last night, and casually pays for a $400 bouquet he didn't order really make breakfast? But that's not all: Did he just treat himself to a wild night with me, slip out, and wait for me to leave?
I try to tame my frizzy hair with the available supplies here—like the five-plus still-wrapped brushes. Maybe it's better if he doesn't see my hair or me like this, I tell myself as I unwrap a brand-new brush and use it. Why does he, as a man, have so many brushes in the bathroom? But I know the answer, and I don't like it.
He apparently even stocked up on bathroom essentials for his conquests so they can freshen up after he’s fucked them. I feel so stupid. So stupid and...
"Hello?" I hear a voice from the bedroom. A woman's voice.
"Yes?" I ask, poking my head cautiously through the doorway from the bedroom. His assistant is standing there, looking at least as surly as last night. Her dress this morning seems a bit more buttoned up, but the neckline is still generous.
"Ah, there you are. I'm supposed to see you out," she says, clearly enjoying her role.
"Alex, he didn't by any chance...?" I ask, feeling my cheeks flush as a wave of shame washes over me because I can't believe what's happening.
"Are these your clothes?" the assistant cuts me off, picking my dress up off the floor beside the dresser. "Your panties... they're not here?"
"Would you please leave me alone? And why are you being so... abrasive?" I ask, horrified.
"How would you feel if someone asked you to take out the trash right at the start of your shift?"
I freeze because at first I don't get what she means. What trash? Then the penny drops. I'm the trash. The garbage. The last leftover from last night's party.
"Would you please leave while I get dressed?" I plead, fighting back tears.
"No, I'll wait here. Too many before you have done crazy things in moments like this."
I nod, my lower lip trembling, snatch my dress from her hand, and make sure not to lose my blanket. Then I spot yesterday's panties beside the bed and hurry into the bathroom with them.
"Hurry up, please," she calls after me.
"All right," I call back, trying to keep my voice steady. My hands shake as I pull on my panties. When I'm done, I swallow the lump in my throat, square my shoulders, go out to her, and resolve to ask the all-important question:
"Did Alex say to send me away?" I ask.
"What do you think?" she sneers. "You think one of the richest men in New York needs a flower girl for more than one night?" Then she laughs.
"You don't deserve him. Alex usually fucks this," she says, running her hands over her breasts. "That's all he needs. And now and then a little bit of the common folk. He sends his regards and thanks you for the nice night."
That's enough. Without a word I hurry past her, wiping away my tears of despair as I run down the stairs, feeling more used and miserable than ever before in my life.
What kind of man did I get myself tangled up with? He must have two faces, and I, the silly fool, fell for a charmer. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot two employees cleaning up the remains of last night's party. Behind them stands a large garbage bin, and my delivered $15,400 bouquet is sticking out of it.
That's exactly how I feel. Used and thrown away.
I don't look back as I hurry to my car. Luckily, I find the key right away this time. Only after I've left the neighborhood of mansions do I let the tears flow and call Veronica to tell her everything.
"What an asshole, Beth. He doesn't deserve you, sweetie," she says.
"How could I be so stupid, Vero," I whimper.
"You're not stupid, sweetie. You're an adult. If the sex was good, don't be ashamed. Back when we were in school, you always asked me why boys were so mean. I told you even then, they're mean even when you're skinny. Do you get what I mean now?"
