His Girl Friday

by Ellen March

  “I’ve only just got here. Give me a chance,” said Sally with an irritable roll of her eyes. She needed her sleep and couldn’t function without it. She scrubbed at bleary eyes that felt as if they’d been bathed in sand and burned with the need to remain closed. Glancing down at her watch, she noticed it was after ten o clock.

  “Don’t waste time lounging around. I expect this report in detail and as soon as possible. Do you hear me?” Norma’s voice rang loudly in Sally’s ear.

  “I hear you.” It was a wonder no one else had, she’d yelled so loud. “Yeah, speak to you later.” She hung up.

  * * *

  Paul sat in the kitchen, sipping from his coffee. The tattered remains of Roman’s shoes littered the patio. That was five hundred quid down the drain, he thought. Surely it was cheaper to buy the dogs chews.

  Roman strode into the kitchen, his face as dark as his mood. “Just wait till I see Antonia. I swear she’s done this deliberately,” he growled as he poured himself a cup of strong coffee.

  “Done what?”

  “Given me the secretary from hell!” Shooting a glance out the window, he noticed the remains of his shoes and shook his head in disbelief. “I only caught her in the Goddamn pool last night!”

  “You what?” choked Paul, almost spitting out his coffee.

  “The dogs were sitting there, focused on the pool, so I flicked the light on and saw someone in there.” His voice softened as he remembered the moment. “I caught the briefest glimpse; she was naked except for her red panties.”

  “You saw a lot with that glimpse,” Paul observed thoughtfully.

  “I ended up in there with her, that’s why.” His tone was suddenly sharp and angry again. A wave of frustration poured over him and he paced around the kitchen, snatching sips from his mug. For someone who had only arrived yesterday, she was turning his orderly world upside down.

  Paul frowned in confusion. “Aw no, don’t tell me it was you and she last night? I thought you didn’t fancy her?”

  “Of course not. That was Sheena. You know, the redhead from the Italian restaurant I go to?” A sinful smile snuck over his lips as he recalled what she did with her hands. “She wasn’t bad, either. Bit miffed when I turfed her out this morning, though.”

  “So what were you doing in the pool with Sally then?” asked Paul, shaking his head, now totally confused.

  “I thought she was drowning and dived in to save her.” Roman grinned wickedly at the memory. “And I tell you what, she has one hell of a pair of tits. I mean, they were draped over my arm.”

  “You’re kidding me.” Suddenly sitting up, Paul wondered what Roman was going to do about it. He was showing a distinct glimmer of interest.

  “The rest of her body isn’t bad, either,” he mused as he remembered holding the towel. “There’s more to her than meets the eye.” He gazed out the window, but he wasn’t seeing the landscape. Instead he recalled what she felt like in his arms. “I just can’t work out why she dresses like she does,” he said, speaking his thoughts out loud.

  “So what are you going to say to Antonia when she gets here?”

  Roman shook his head. “Nothing for the moment. I’ll bide my time. But in the meantime, I just hope that woman stays away from me. I’m seriously thinking about taking out extra life insurance.” Gently, he touched his still sore nose.

  Both men turned at the sound of footsteps echoing on the wooden floor. The handle of the door twisted and Sally walked in. She stopped in her tracks when she saw the two of them staring at her. It was more than that. It felt almost like an inspection.

  “Coffee’s made if you want some,” said Paul, trying to peek at her chest without making it obvious.

  Roman also tried to see through today’s outfit. Which was worse than yesterday’s. She wore a pair of loose, unflattering black jogging bottoms, a baggy T-shirt and an oversized bright orange cardigan that came to her hips. Buttoned haphazardly, it appeared lopsided, but try as he might he couldn’t see any sign of those delectable breasts or the rest of her figure. He was beginning to wonder if he’d dreamt it.

  “Thanks.” She moved nervously forward, skirting around Roman, afraid to go near him in case she caused another accident. He was already a bit worse for wear, and she decided to put it down to his late night assault. Yet she noticed that, amazingly, he showed no sign of tiredness.

  “Antonia will be here shortly. I’m sure she’ll give you another laptop and show you what’s needed.” He continued to stare at her, through her almost, and cursed the clothes she wore.

  The telephone reverberated around the room, its noisy shrill echoing across the tiled area. Paul picked it up. “You’ve what? You’re kidding.” He motioned to Roman. “It’s Antonia. She’s had a fall, sprained her ankle badly so she won’t be in.”

  Roman took the receiver, casually leaning his hip against the table. Sally eyed his heavy thighs, wondering if he lifted weights, and was unable to understand how he was so fresh. There wasn’t a tired line on his body, while she felt exhausted. Obviously, she decided, making love wouldn’t be her forte. Just listening to it made her knackered, and she was going to have to invest in some earplugs. No way did she want to endure a repeat performance of last night. Apparently such nocturnal activity was a regular occurrence.

  She listened to his one-sided conversation on the phone.

  “Yeah, okay, she is. But what about Saturday? Right, that’s fine. Take care, see you then.” He hung up.

  “Well, Marilyn will be in shortly, so that’s the good news.” He shot a glare at Sally, who hugged her cup in her hands and pretended to be fascinated by the scene outside the window. “And Saturday is all arranged. Antonia won’t be in at all this week.” Turning to Sally, he cricked his head thoughtfully. “So that leaves you at a bit of a loose end. I can give you some work, but most of it is going to be coming from Antonia.” He rubbed his forehead thoughtfully, trying to work out where to put her where she would cause the least amount of damage. Roman was tempted to send her packing, but he just couldn’t. There was still something about her that tempted and teased him. Those tantalizing glimpses of a body he wanted to explore, one that refused to leave his thoughts.

  “Suppose you could always help Paul,” he said, catching Paul’s questioning look. He was only too aware how territorial Marilyn was with the house. She liked to do things her way or not at all. He just hoped there weren’t any remains of yesterday’s disaster to be found. She’d worked for him for what seemed forever. The fact that she was loyal and didn’t comment on his illicit affairs warmed her to him. As a housekeeper, Marilyn was pure gold. She had his trust, which was rarely given.

  “I’d like that,” Sally said with a grin at her newfound friend. “I don’t know anything about plants so just don’t expect a lot.”

  “Trust me, we won’t,” Roman said with a dollop of sarcasm. “I’ll be out most of today. Got a couple of meetings, so I’ll see you both later.” Finishing his coffee, he strolled from the room.

  She secretly eyed him from behind her glasses. Her gaze pinned to his sexy saunter, she breathed in a slow, ragged sigh.

  * * *

  Sally was out front hosing down the remains of the curry stains from the entryway when Roman emerged from the house. She thought he oozed sex appeal in his dark suit and pristine white shirt. He carried a soft leather briefcase and wore his sunglasses casually on top of his head.

  He came to a halt when he saw her.

  “What are you doing that for?” Then he noticed the brown gunk covering the ground.

  “Had a bit of an accident. Fell over the dogs and dropped the curry,” she explained in brief. She ravaged him with her eyes, glad she could leer without his knowledge. Thankfully her tinted glasses worked as well as sunglasses.

  No wonder he had women falling over themselves to get to him, she thought wistfully. He was the most drop-dead gorgeous man she’d ever seen in her life. If she could pocket his sex appeal and sell it, she’d hit the moth
er lode.

  For a few more seconds he simply stared at her, trying to take in her words, then shook his head as he walked slowly towards his car.

  * * *

  Sally had finished hosing down the porch, and after a brief water fight with the dogs, wandered in search of Paul. She discovered him inside the greenhouse with a vast array of plant pots.

  She watched as he quietly examined his shoots, tenderly re-potting each one and carefully tapping down the earth.

  “You enjoy this?” He jumped, which made her grin.

  “I love it, creating something.” He pushed a plastic terracotta pot towards her. “Go on, try it.”

  “What if I break it?” At once her nerves rose in a flurry. She was scared she’d wreck something else.

  Paul studied her and paused for a split second. “Then you’ll have to do it over again.”

  A warm smile lit up her face, and relaxing, she wedged her fingers into the dark earth. In silence she followed Paul’s lead, then stood back to stare at the pot with the lopsided shoot in it. A tuft of green spliced against its surroundings.

  Her stomach lurched into a rumble, and she wondered when the mysterious cook was going to turn up.

  She didn’t have long to wait. A plump, middle-aged woman called to them from the patio. Her arms waved manically, windmill-like, and Sally stifled a laugh.

  “That’s our cook. She’s a real sweetie, not like that bitch, Antonia,” said Paul, throwing his gloves into the barrow. He rubbed the base of his spine. “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

  As they neared, Sally could make out Marilyn’s round smiling face and ruddy cheeks. Her hazel eyes glinted mischievously, and the apron she wore was strained over her vast stomach, testimony to her cake-making and love of food.

  “Nice to meet you,” said Sally, putting out a grubby hand covered in dirt. Realizing what she had done, she cringed and rubbed it against her top before offering it again with an apologetic grin.

  “I heard we had a new starter. Thought you were Roman’s secretary, though, not Paul’s.” She gave him a nudge. “Changing sides, are we?” she teased.

  “I’ve got more sense than that. Antonia is sick, so Sally’s helping me,” he explained good-naturedly. “And what have you baked us today? Hope it’s that fruitcake again.”

  “Well, I just so happen to have some.” She took Sally’s measure. “I hope you’re not one of these creatures always on a diet?” Marilyn cricked her head and looked expectantly into her darkened glasses, trying to peer past them.

  Sally shook her head, instantly liking the woman. “No, don’t do them.” When there was an abundance of food, Sally made the most of it. With her erratic cash flow, she never knew when the next famine would begin.

  Half an hour later, she held her slightly bulging stomach. “Oh, Marilyn, that was scrumptious. All I want to do now is curl up and sleep. I didn’t get much last night with ….” She stopped suddenly, a red stain creeping over her face.

  “Roman.” Marilyn said knowingly. “Don’t worry, you’ll soon get used to it.”

  Sally’s smile was sickly. Her problem was that she didn’t want to get used to it. Participate, yes, but sitting on the outside looking in and listening held no appeal whatsoever.

  Paul reluctantly rose and stretched, indicating to Sally that they had to make a move. “Come on, let’s do some pruning. Better get some work in before his lordship gets back.”

  Sally smiled at her newest friend. “Thanks, Marilyn. Catch you later.” She wandered after Paul towards the greenhouses.

  * * *

  The sun burned down, and she could feel the perspiration trickling between her breasts. She was hot, irritable, and tired. She’d never coped well without sleep. She clapped a hand to her forehead, which had begun to pound.

  “What’s up?” asked Paul, noticing her grimace. He returned his concentration to replanting the small shoot into its pot, then gently patted down the dark, rich earth.

  “I’m shattered and I’ve got a headache coming on.” She rubbed at her reddened eyes. “Any earplugs around here? I’m not staying up half the night listening to him again.”

  Paul let out a deep, raucous laugh. “I’ll buy you some the next time I go to town. In the meantime shove your head beneath your pillow.”

  “I did and it didn’t work. Do all of them scream like that? Ouch!” She cursed as a thorn stabbed into her skin. She sucked it tenderly.

  “Some do. I call them howlers, but I think it’s mainly for effect.” A grin tugged at his lips. “None of my partners sound like that, that’s for sure. What about you?”

  “What do you mean?” She raised her brow and tilted her head, wondering what the hell he was talking about.

  “Are you a howler? You know, do you scream when you come?” He patted the earth with his gloved hand, as if discussing the weather.

  Sally’s face burned crimson with embarrassment. She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation. “I don’t know,” she eventually muttered as she stared intently at the rose she’d accidentally decapitated.

  “What, you’ve never had an orgasm?” He stopped what he was doing and stared at her in disbelief, his blue eyes probing. “You’ve been with the wrong man!”

  “No, I’ve never, well, you know,” she fumbled over her words, “done it.”

  “Oh my God, I don’t believe it!” cried Paul, dropping the clippers he’d picked up and turning to face her. “Why?”

  “Well, would you want to give me one? To actually have sex with me?” She accidentally cut off yet another head. “Trust me, it’s not through choice, more the lack of opportunity.”

  “Of course not, but I’m gay.” He was still unable to believe she was a virgin and couldn’t wait till Roman found out. The conversation they’d had earlier came back to him.

  He could deny it all he liked, but something was very definitely stirring within him.

  “Well, anyway, no one wants me. The story of my life,” she said with finality. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Sally was glad the dark glasses hid the tears that threatened to spill over.

  Paul could hear the emotion in her trembling voice and subtly changed the subject. “Tell you what, why don’t you go and look in on the horses. The mares are out in the field. You haven’t seen them yet, have you?” His voice was soft and coaxing.

  Sally couldn’t speak. What was it like to be wanted by someone? To have a man to talk to, to tell him her hopes and aspirations, have hot sex and relaxed sleep? She gave a wry grin.

  There was no one out there who would think she was special, unless you meant “special needs,” referring to her inborn clumsiness.

  “Go on then, but look out for the stallion. He’s a vicious bugger, so don’t go near him,” he warned. Paul watched her amble away, up the grassy bank and across the gravel bed. The yard was awash with vibrant colours, a heady perfume of roses infiltrating the air.

  His gaze followed her and he shook his head sadly. She really needed a makeover, and he knew just the man to put the wheels into motion. Starting with the horrid braces. He’d turn the ugly duckling into a swan or die trying, he decided dramatically.

  Chapter Seven

  Sally felt hot tears trickle down her face, hover at her chin, and follow a meandering path down her neck. Recently, the front she always presented to others—that she didn’t care what they thought of her—had too many cracks in it. Each day she found it harder and harder to pretend the sympathetic looks and plain irritation didn’t bother her.

  Because deep down she did care. Each comment seared her soul, hurting her beyond reason. For once in her life she really wanted to be that special person to someone. To be loved and cared for, not discarded like some broken doll. And seeing Roman so hot in the flesh reinforced her conviction she would never have that special someone. The words he’d spoken about her being hideous cut her to the quick. They left no doubt of what he thought of her. She gave a tremulous, shaky sigh.

  Th
e sound of a shrill whinny broke her out of her depressing thoughts. Facet was in the nearby field, impatiently pawing the dry ground. Clouds of dust circled his massive hoof.

  “Hi boy. At least one male likes me.” She strolled up to him, gave him a sweet, and stroked his white blaze wistfully. Her thoughts returned to Roman, who she realized was the catalyst behind her discontent.

  The fact he wouldn’t ever look twice at her only reinforced her own suspicion that beauty was indeed skin-deep, rather than a quality judged by more complex standards. Forgetful of Paul’s warning about the mares, she climbed over the five bar gate and jumped to the ground, but lost her footing and fell forward onto her hands and knees. “Shit!” she swore loudly before scrambling to her feet and brushing herself down, not noticing the mobile had fallen out of her pocket.

  Facet nickered softly, and she patted his neck. She stared with longing at the lush grass, wanting nothing more than to lie in it and strip out of the clothes that clung to her sticky body.

  As she wandered across the field, Facet danced alongside her, shaking and arching his neck playfully before bucking and cantering past her. His high-held tail was a dark russet banner trailing behind him. Sally laughed at his antics, at last feeling the sadness that had enveloped her evaporate.

  Puffing and gasping for air, she reached the top of the small hill and stared down in astonishment at the stream flowing through it. A shimmering spiral snaked its way through the verdant area, and she knew exactly what she was going to do. After all, the stream was totally isolated.

  Sally ran down the hill towards it, already pulling at her clothes. She dropped them beside the bank, and wearing only her panties and cropped top, waded into the freezing cold water. Slipping on the velvety, moss-covered stones, she laughed and frolicked, splashing in the water as she enjoyed the solitude and freedom.

  The tension in her head remained, and she guessed it was because her hair had been tied up for so long. Tugging at her braid, she loosened it and ran her hands through her long blonde locks till they hung around her hips. A shimmering golden mantle cascaded over her.