Page 10 of See Me

“Well—”

I spin in my chair pretending to need something behind me so I don’t have to look at her pathetic fucking face. “Don’t. You know what that was.” And it was a fucking year ago. “Go away.”

She stomps toward the door. “I don’t know why I even try.”

“Remember that the next time you think about walking in here.”

“Dick.” The door slams.

Thank fucking god.

Yes, I fucked up. It was a moment of weakness and she was there. All big tits and spread legs. She served her purpose and I told her what it was before it happened. The way she bounced into my office the next day smiling like she was my fucking girlfriend is when I knew I fucked up. I told her never to come in here again. Every couple of months she gets this thought in her head that she can bend over in front of me and I’ll take her over my desk or some shit. She reeks of desperation and the clingy bullshit ensures I’ll never touch her again. I have no problem finding ass when I need it but I don’t do clingy, or girlfriends. Hell, I like it best when I don’t even know their name. Just a warm body for the night.

My mind pictures Ella, fiery red hair fanned over my pillow, lips glistening, her mouth falling open. Those sapphire fucking eyes staring right through me as I bury myself in her. You wouldn’t know it with the way she was dressed for her interview, but I remember that body from Halloween. That voice drew me out of my office and my eyes about bulged out of my head when I rounded the corner and saw her.

When she showed up her first day in tight jeans and her tits spilling out of the V of that t-shirt, real tits, I knew my only option was to stay away. The fact that she keeps popping in my head is my own fault. I have a thing for redheads. I had the chance to get rid of her and I blew it.

Fucking Enzo.

I should know better than to listen to him by now. He’s the reason I’m fucking wasting away in this hole of an office. Well, he isn’t the only reason but it’s easier to blame him.

Come January she’ll only be here a few nights a week. Iopen and Enzo closes so I won’t see her anymore. The other night was a fluke. I had to tell Omar to keep his fucking kitchen clean when I came in that morning and there was trash left out. I may hate this fucking place with a passion but I hate filth even more. This is all I have, so the least I can do is make it the best it can be.

A few more weeks. I can get through a few more weeks.

A knock sounds on the door and I blow out a sigh. “Yes?”

Ella peeks around the door. At least she fucking knocks.

“Hey. I was just wondering if I could get a couple more shirts?” She creeps in when I don’t say anything. “I don’t really have time to wash this one every night.” She smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. They bounce around the room for a few seconds and she wrings her hands.

I go back to punching in numbers. “They’re fifteen dollars.”

“Oh. Uh, do you think you could take it out of my first check?”

The question takes me by surprise. I try not to reveal the fact that she somehow has no money intrigues me. I get up without a word and walk to the cabinet and pull two shirts out. I hand them to her and walk back behind my desk.

“Do you, do you think you can spread out the deductions over two weeks?”

I look up and her eyes are on the floor. I can tell she’s chewing the inside of her cheek when she winces and I think maybe she bit down too hard. I wonder what her flesh would feel like between my teeth.

God dammit.

“Just take them.”

“It’ll be fine. Over two weeks. That’ll be fine.”

My jaw clenches. “Just go.” I flick my hand toward the door.

She rolls her eyes and walksout.

I lean back in my chair, hands behind my head. My shoulders scream in protest after the torture this morning. Teacher. Her parents threw big parties. So, a former rich girl-turned teacher. Drives a nice car if the Range Rover I’ve seen out back is hers. But doesn’t even have thirty dollars for shirts. This girl must have one helluva story. I sit up and resume tallying the invoices, trying to convince myself I’m not interested in finding out what it is.

FOUR

BOOGERS FOR ONE

Don’t curse.

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