Maybe Hiring

by Aurelia Knight

  I didn't want to care about him at all. I did all this to get laid. I did it specifically for emotionless sex. Now, I texted a man I couldn't control myself around, while he complained about wanting more of my time and attention. My heart raced, my breath shallow. Was I in love or in a cage?

  My life was a cataclysm. The amount of upheaval became too much to process. I couldn't think of even one piece of my life that stayed the same as before. Was my name even Claire? I missed the city hall basement and that girl that longed to be there. She was unhappy compared to this new person, but I knew her better. I at least understood her motivations.

  I missed the careful safety I cultivated in my old life. Nothing about this said safe. My job still needed proving. I invested more in my love life than I ever wanted to. The stakes were huge. I wondered if all the good things coming from my new life could be worth all the stress it took to get them.

  The thing about getting everything you want is having everything to lose. This man felt like a monsoon against parched earth. I needed him. I wanted him, but his intensity was too much too bear. He eroded a layer of soil away as he made contact. He was a natural disaster, incredible, beautiful, devastating.

  My protective layer peeled back by the raw force of it. It hurt to be ripped off. Only recently it remained attached. If I allowed myself to love him and lost him what would I be left with? I couldn't even remember that person from before. I wracked my mind for the right answers. I tried to decide if falling in love with him was right for me. I needed to figure out if I could do it.

  I forgot the email as I worked and mulled over the many twists my life took. The day wound up being busy. A lot of people came and went. A lot of things needed my attention and I soon forgot everything but what I worked on. My head twisted up with work and my own issues. I had no time to consider the person behind the email.

  I got done late, around six fifteen. I texted Mason and told him I was running late. He told me tonight's meal would be casual and to not worry about what I wore. I wondered if that was true or if he hated the idea of being late that much. I was a generally timely person but his obsession with punctuality bordered excessive.

  The summer wound down. The hot sun sunk toward the horizon. The world held that special end of day glow that happens for a brief time before the sun starts to set. At first, I only paid attention to how beautiful the world looked around me.

  As I walked I grew more and more uneasy. I couldn't place it, but I sensed someone followed me. I kept looking around on the street. No one walked on the street. A few cars passed but no one slowed or made any move toward me. I stared into the faces of their drivers, no one looked back. I decided I was nervous because of everything.

  I didn't have evidence. I could be paranoid. I shook with fear by the time I got home. I walked so fast I almost jogged. I didn't want to run. If someone watched me I didn't want them to know I knew. My heart raced, my breath came too quick. I told myself to relax. I was almost there.

  When I arrived at my building the main entrance stood open. It was strange but not unheard of. I walked over the threshold slowly. Something seemed off. I prepared myself for anything, but what I saw. My apartment sat a short walk down the hall on the first floor. I could see it from where I stood.

  Someone kicked my door in. Someone trashed the inside of the apartment. That was all bad enough, but the spray paint concerned me more. "Fucking Slut" was written in giant angry caps lock across the walls and over the doorway. The words stood out in a bright angry red. Who the hell did I upset this much?

  18

  Mason walked up behind me. I jumped and shrieked so loud it hurt my ears. "What the hell happened here?" He raised his hands defensively. He reached out to grab me and put his body in front of mine. He sounded so protective for split second I thought things would be okay. I couldn't look at him to check his expression. I couldn't look up at all.

  "I have no idea."

  "Who would do something like this?" His anger frightened me. I knew I wasn't the object of it, but the idea of violence terrified me.

  "I don't know." I told him again, still unable to meet his eyes. My brain didn't work, or it moved very slow. The email, the note, being followed, I forced myself to look into his eyes. They were filled with anger and concern for me. I needed to tell him the truth. If I scared him away so be it.

  "I got a nasty email earlier. A while ago I got a nasty note at the library I didn't think much of it, at the time." I was bone tired. Carrying on seemed impossible. "I thought someone was following me, but I never actually saw anyone. Obviously, I was wrong." I waved a directionless hand toward the mess in front of me.

  He already had the phone to his ear. "I'm calling to report a break in." He spoke to emergency dispatch. I stared hard at his expensive shoes tuning out the rest of his words. My mind ran over the last few months and everything that happened. I tried not to think of what I faced now. I couldn't bear it. Did everything good thing in the world come at too high a price?

  I'm not sure how long I stared at the open door of my apartment. It couldn't have been long, police show up quick enough in our city. To me it could have been years. I couldn't make sense of anything. There were two officers who came. Both were men. I couldn't concentrate on their faces long enough to remember anything else about them. Mason gave my hand a reassuring squeeze and stepped forward to meet them. He tried to intercede them before they could approach me. I must have looked as terrible as I felt.

  I couldn't hear what he said at first, but the sound of his voice started making sense again. "She received a threatening email at work. She thinks someone followed her." He continued, even including that I mentioned to him I noticed a shadow outside of my door. He never mentioned the ad which I appreciated. I didn't want to bring it up, not now.

  They questioned me, but I didn't help much. I couldn't concentrate on what they were saying let alone what my answers would be. I told them my name, how long I lived there. I explained in more detail the circumstances of the email and the note. None of those details were going to be helpful to them in any way. I was useless not only because a strong breeze would give me a panic attack, but I didn't know anything.

  They took the email address it had been sent from and a whole bunch of other stuff. They dusted the place for prints and took about a thousand pictures. It didn't take that long, about an hour. They made an appointment to come to the library in the morning. They wanted to check out the computer and email there. They assured me they'd do their best, but I don't think any of us believed anything would come of it.

  They suggested I stay with a friend or family member for the night. I didn't respond. After a few uncomfortable moment Mason piped in that I could stay with him. They asked me if I wanted to do that and I nodded. They told me once again they'd do their best and then went on their way to deal with other crimes.

  When all the investigating and statement taking finished I needed to do my own investigation. I stepped over the ledge noticing the crunch of broken glass and debris. The damage in my apartment was extensive. I was astonished that I elicited this type of reaction in anyone. My furniture lay overturned, cut, stained. My cups and plates were smashed along with old family photos. More things had been painted on the walls. SLUT, WHORE, and BITCH were all sprayed in blood red across my walls.

  I didn't want to see anymore. I didn't want to look in my bedroom where I kept all the things I loved most. I thought of all my personal things, my family photos, my journals. I couldn't stand to see them ripped, exposed, destroyed. I could hear the doors closing on the police cars. Their engines started, and they drove away. Tears began to pool in my eyes. Mason arrived at my side, or he was there already. "You look like you're about to lose it. This can wait."

  I looked up at him for the first time since he first got there. "I don't know if it can."

  He grabbed my face and wiped a stray tear. "It can wait, trust me. Let's go to my place. You could use a back rub." He wrapped his arm tight around my
waist. I didn't budge at first. I stared around the room my body starting to shake. "Claire, this isn't the right time. Let me take care of you." I thought about fighting him, but I didn't want to. I gave in and let him lead me out of the building.

  We walked awkwardly as he supported most of my weight. I wasn't helpful and part of me knew that. I felt guilty for subjecting him to it, but I couldn't top. My mind couldn't take it. The shapes around me started to blur. I considered warning him before I passed out.

  "Seriously, are you okay?" He stopped before opening the door for me. His hands moved across my face and brushed back my hair. He touched my shoulder blades and attempted to get me to look at him. I took a deep breath realizing it had been too long since I had. I wouldn't look at him. He kept stroking my cheeks and neck trying to coax me.

  "I'm fine." My answer sounded flat and automatic. I was nowhere near it. My one comfort in all this was that I had someone to stay with. A few months ago, that wouldn't have been the case. He pressed his lips to my forehead. I didn't know if it was a sign of affection or an examination. Whatever the case he seemed satisfied enough and helped me into his car.

  It was way passed any appropriate time for dinner. I wasn't hungry for all I knew I never would be again. He must have been starving though. We stopped at a fast food place and went through the drive thru. It surprised me to see him at a place like this. I almost snapped out of my abstraction, but not quite.

  He pulled around to the window and told the cashier he needed a moment. "What do you want?" He asked me.

  "Nothing." My voice still sounded lifeless.

  "You have to eat something." He told me in a gentle but firm voice.

  "I'm not hungry." He thought about it for another moment before telling the girl he was ready. He ordered two meals with large sodas. I assumed he bought extra food for me. He pulled around, paid, and got our food. Under normal circumstances the smell of the fries would make my mouth water. I didn't have any reaction to them. We pulled back onto the road.

  I sunk into the darkness around me. It was incomplete. There was always some kind of light here, even if only a street lamp. I didn't think about the fact that I had never been to his place and had no idea where he lived. Worrying was such a deeply ingrained part of me, I left myself behind. By the time I even thought of it I looked up and we were stopped on a street I didn't recognize.

  We parked in front of a white house with either blue or black shutters. The failing light made it hard to tell. It had a big red door and a light above it. Most of the lights were off except one room that looked like a study. I could see a giant shelf of books. The whole thing was shockingly quaint. It almost snapped me back into the present.

  The house looked tremendous, but that didn't surprise me. Everything about him screamed largess. It looked like a family home, a picturesque one. It was the kind of place you'd expect to have a perfect trophy wife and matching set of perfect children. I would expect a bachelor to have something more modern. I wondered without any enthusiasm if he were married with children. It would figure great with the night I had already.

  He had a wide horseshoe shaped driveway. We pulled in slowly. The car crunched on the gravel beneath it. When we stopped I made no attempt to move. He got out and walked around to my side to open the door for me. When I didn't look up at him he reached down, pulled my arm over his shoulder and lifted me out. I stood beside him for a few moments, leaning my head against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around me and held me without comment.

  He wrapped one arm around my waist and brought me up the path. He held me as tight as he had when we left my apartment. I couldn't help looking around. Did someone watch me now? He shut the door behind us, locking it and doing the deadbolt.

  He turned to me and put his hands on my shoulders. He picked up my chin and looked in my eyes. "You're safe." Tears welled in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks in torrents. A sob built in my throat and I buried my face into his chest, weeping.

  19

  His house was beautiful and open with light colored walls and dark wood floors. He had a soft, comfortable couch made of a dark brown leather. I had been crying for a long time. It had been a while since I stopped. The whole time he sat beside me. He hadn't said much more than "it's going to be okay" and although I knew he had no way of knowing that it was nice to hear it.

  I sat up without thinking about it. "Are you okay?" He looked like he feared a bomb going off. He had his arms outstretched. I eyed him wondering what he planned to do with them if he thought I was going to start crying again.

  "Yeah, a lot of stuff has happened, and I'm scared. I'm fine though." My voice came out small, but he seemed relieved that I spoke to him instead of crying.

  "You don't know who did this?" He pressed. His face was full of concern. "Maybe someone else who answered your ad. Did you respond to anyone else even once? Does anyone stand out?"

  I thought about his question. "You're the only person I answered even once. None of them stood out much. None of them were threatening and no one claimed to be in love with me."

  He draped an arm over my shoulder. "I'm sorry this is happening to you."

  "It's not your fault."

  "I'm still sorry it's happening to you." He began kneading his fingers into my back. My muscles were hard enough to cut glass between the stress of life in general added to the last few hours. I couldn't help moaning out loud as he worked my flesh. As he stroked me I relaxed and fell into what he did. He laid me down and knelt beside me. He worked his hands over my entire body. At first it was sweet and helpful. My body needed to be massaged.

  Slowly, it became more sensual. He started rubbing my round butt cheeks. It aroused me and the muscles there needed the attention. I moaned. I was so worked up in so many ways. I couldn't begin to process everything. He pushed my dress up and over my back. My thong remained tightly in place accenting the round curves. He squeezed me and started playing with the cloth there. He pushed my panties to the side and slid his fingers up and down me. He rubbed my clit. I moaned into his couch.

  His teasing fingers ventured up to my ass crack. He played with the tight hole there prodding it. I pushed myself back and against him forcing his finger into my ass. He gasped in ecstatic shock. The sound of it made my pussy clench. "Fuck you're hot." He told me through gritted teeth. He pumped his finger into me a few good times, before pulling it out and rubbing my wetness off on my ass.

  "God, I want to spank you." He said it like he didn't think it was an actual possibility.

  "Then spank me."

  "No, you've been through too much tonight." He could be sweet and selfless, and I loved that about him. Nothing would console me like this would.

  "Please. It will make me feel better."

  His eyes lit up with wicked interest. "It will?"

  "Yes, baby." I rocked my hips back and forth like a metronome. He looked a little doubtful, but my request excited him too much to refuse.

  He rubbed my back side appreciating its fullness. "This is a great piece of ass." He took both of his hands squeezing hard and pulled it open. He leaned down and applied a hard bite to the inside of my cheek making me yelp. He picked both of his hands up and hovered over me a minute. He then brought them down with a resounding smack. The pain shattered through my body, interrupting the pain and anxiety in their tracks. Endorphins chased the darkness away.

  My skin was hot and stinging. He picked up his hands and brought them both down on me again. I called out his name. I moaned as the waves from these strikes mixed with the last. "How are you?" He asked rubbing my now bright red skin.

  "Good, more please." I begged, nearly deranged. My words egged him on. His breath came heavy and the tempo of the smacks raining on me increased. The pain became hard to bear. My wetness dripped between my legs. My system overloaded. All the awfulness replaced by endorphins. For a moment I wasn't human. I was positive my sensitive skin looked bright pink. He rubbed me with extra gentleness. I knew a brutal one came next.
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br />   The more he hit me the more aroused he became. His breath got harsh as his composure left him. He spread open my ass cheeks and looked inside. "I'm going to hit you once more on each cheek. This time I'm going to hit you as hard I can. Your only job is to take it, however you can. If it's too much tell me to stop. I won't do the other side if you can't take it. Are you ready?" I nodded. I didn't want my voice to betray the trickle of fear sliding down my spine. I wanted it, but I didn't know how strong he was.

  He pushed my dark tangled curls out of my face and stroked my cheek. I could see him from the corner of my eye. He stood fully dressed, strong and gorgeous as ever. His face wild and full of lust. His hand came down on me with a force I can't describe. I the vessels in my skin burst. That left a bruise. I heard a woman screaming.

  "Please no more." The words were out of my mouth like someone else spoke them. I couldn't stop squirming the sensation coursing through me too intense. He massaged the spot he struck.

  "That too much?" He asked me in a tone I didn't understand.

  "I'm good. It's intense. You're strong." He didn't respond, and I could tell he worried about hurting me. "Touch my pussy." He didn't need to be told twice.

  He pushed my panties to the side again and stuck two of his long fingers inside me. "Fucking hell, you're wet." He pulled his breath in through is teeth. That was a satisfying sexy sound.

  "I like it when you spank me."

  "I can see that. You're a naughty girl. Nice girls don't get wet from being spanked." He worked those fingers into me eliciting happy moans.

  "I never said I'm nice." He laughed and bit the skin at the nape of my neck.

  He pressed his thumb to my clit and I gasped. "That's true, you never did say you're nice. I have to admit I do like you this way." I made my way up to my hands and knees as he pulsed his fingers into me. His weight shifted. Before I even had time to wonder what he was going to do his face plunged into my ass.