by L. L. Akers
“Gabby, are you okay?” Mr. Arnaud asked with concern etched across his face.
“Yep! I’m good... but I gotta go. See you tomorrow,” she said, standing abruptly, nearly knocking over her chair, and making a beeline for the exit.
“Uh, no, Gabby. You won’t. I already explained to you, I’m not going to be in the office. Let me walk you to your car,” he called out to Gabby’s staggering backside, as she was already nearly at the doors.
Mr. Arnaud threw down some money and hurried out to catch her.
“Gabby, wait a minute,” he called out, jogging and finally catching up to her.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were talking to me,” Gabby said, then giggled.
“Gabby, I don’t think you’re okay to drive. Do you normally drink?”
“Nope! But I can learn to do that too, sir!” Gabby said, following it with a salute to her forehead, nearly knocking herself over, then laughing so hard she had to bend over and hold her stomach.
Mr. Arnaud grabbed her arm to steady her. Always such a gentleman, Gabby thought.
“Come on; let me help you to my car. We’ll talk about what to do from there,” he said, looking around to see who was watching the show.
He helped Gabby into the passenger side, and then got into the driver’s seat, starting the car.
“Where we going, Mr. Arnaud?” Gabby wailed, her head bobbing.
“We’re just moving out of this parking lot. It’s too small and the people at the window already saw you staggering out here. I don’t want them to see us just sitting in the car,” he explained while driving across the street and down a small distance to another parking area, this one empty and nearly dark. He pulled into the back corner and turned off the car.
“But, Mr. Arnaud... what about my car!” Gabby wailed, looking back to see if she could still see it.
“Gabby, first of all, please call me René. Secondly, I don’t think anyone is going to steal your car,” he said, a bit of impatience starting to seep in. “Let’s see if we can sober you up some. I’ve got some water and chips in the back seat.”
“I can call you René?”
“Yes, you can—the same as Danny did and Mr. Hinson does, as well as our sales team.”
“So why do the office and stock room peeps have to call you Mr. Arnaud, then?”
“To keep things impersonal. When you have to be the controller, payroll, and the human resources department, it helps to put some distance between you and the hourly staff,” he answered while digging around the back seat, looking for the water and chips.
“Guess the kids ate the chips, but here’s a bottle of water. How about drink some of this, Gabriella,” he instructed kindly and handed Gabby the bottle.
“René,” Gabby said, stretching the word out and giggling at the foreign sound of it, “I told you... Please don’t call me that. I like Gabby.”
“I’m sorry. You just look like a Gabriella to me,” Mr. Arnaud said, then reached over and turned on the radio. It was tuned to an oldies station and the music was soft and slow.
“I’m just going to lay my head against here for a second,” Gabby said, leaning on the door. Without warning, she felt like she was barely able to keep her head up straight.
“No! Gabby, you cannot go to sleep. Remember, Jake is waiting on you,” Mr. Arnaud said, patting her arm, and then pulling his hand back to just look at her, lying still against the door, her eyes barely open.
“Gabriella, you are beautiful. I knew the day you interviewed with us that I had to have you—working for us—regardless of your lack of secretarial skills.”
“Seriously?” Gabby asked, her own voice sounding so far away. “I wondered why I was hired. I knew there had to be someone out there with more experience than me.” She paused. “That’s real sweet of you to say, Mr. Arnaud. I’m glad you gave me a chance,” she finished sleepily.
“René... you can call me René,” he answered softly as Gabby closed her eyes, needing to rest them for just a second.
“Mmm... that feels good,” Gabby moaned softly.
“You like that?” he whispered.
“Mmhmm...” Gabby answered as she wiggled around the seat, trying to move her legs apart but being met with resistance.
“Here, let me,” he whispered.
She felt something smooth slide up over her bottom to wrap around her waist and felt her damp panties slide down her legs. Oh, that feels better, Gabby thought, pulling her legs apart, trying to get some air down there. She was hot... very hot. All over. She felt like there wasn’t enough air, but she didn’t want this feeling between her legs to stop. She turned her head to the side, eyes still closed, and opened her mouth, trying to capture more air.
Something entered her again... smooth and slow, stroking her insides—back and forth. It felt so good, wet and hot and slick. Gabby tried to lean back but was stuck sitting up. She arched her pelvis, trying to lift herself up to the feeling. The stroking got faster and seemed bigger, filling her up, stretching her a little. Still, it was good. It felt dreamlike, surreal. Just as she thought she couldn’t take anymore—she would explode from this ever-building ethereal feeling—she felt her entire body flipped sideways, her legs pushed up and spread uncomfortably, wide open, before a heavy weight settled over her.
She opened her eyes to look straight into the face of Mr. Arnaud just as he finished guiding himself into her and giving her his first thrust, hard and deep.
Gabby gasped, and then tried to move out from under him. There was nowhere to go. He had her pinned on the seat, being much heavier than her. He kept pumping. He mistakenly took her gasp for a cry of passion.
“Oh, Gabby,” he moaned as he pulled up her shirt, roughly grabbing her breast, squeezing it in his hand, then painfully pinching her nipple.
“No-no-no-no...” she cried out as she continued to struggle, not making any progress at getting out from under him but at least swatting his hand away from her breast. “S-s-stop! Mr. Arnaud. Stop!”
“Gabriella, you weren’t saying that a few minutes ago,” he said, then slipped two fingers into her mouth. “Taste yourself. You are so wet and delicious.”
Gabby jerked her head away, removing his fingers from her mouth, and screamed this time, “Mr. Arnaud. Stop! I don’t know what you’re doing. I must have passed out! Please stop!”
“You... were... liking... it... before...” he said through huffs of breath, almost incomprehensible in his frenzy, reaching for her other breast, squeezing even harder, grinding his hips furiously in rhythm with his rough handling of her, pumping harder and faster.
“No! I wasn’t awake!”
She cried out again in frustration at her inability to move him or make him listen.
“Ohhh, my Gabriella,” he whispered to her, holding his head against hers as he pushed into her one last time, deeper yet. He groaned, and then collapsed in a sweaty heap on top of her.
“Get off me!”
Mr. Arnaud slowly got up, delicately moving Gabby’s legs back to the floor so he could sit, then began dressing, placidly putting back on his briefs and pants, then sliding into his shoes as Gabby slammed her legs together, pulled down her shirt, and scrambled for her panties. She found her skirt still intact, just pushed up wrapped around her waist. She pulled it down and stared, astonished, at Mr. Arnaud, still slightly drunk and completely at a loss for words.
“Gabriella, that was divine. Thank you,” Mr. Arnaud said as if he’d just complimented her on a finely cooked meal, while reaching for a pack of wet wipes he had in the back seat, first wiping his entire face, then his hands.
He folded the wipe carefully and slid it into the visor strap, then held out the pack, offering one to Gabby with a smile. “Would you like to use one of these to umm... clean up?”
Gabby was still speechless. She looked around. It was dark and she couldn’t place exactly where she was. She tried to wrap her head around it. She remembered leaving the restaurant and wondering how she was going to make th
e thirty-minute drive home as drunk as she was. She could remember getting into Mr. Arnaud’s car, but how had it come to this?
“Mr. Arnaud, please just take me to my car,” Gabby said calmly but feeling anything but calm, trying to match his unruffled behavior long enough to get to the safety of her own vehicle.
“Sure. No problem,” he answered and started the car, quickly pulling out of the dark corner to point toward the road.
Gabby saw the restaurant just across the street. She saw her car sitting forlorn and forgotten... like Jake. Oh my god! she thought. I’ve just cheated on Jake. Didn’t I?
Mr. Arnaud backed in next to Gabby’s car and she slammed her shoulder against the door, trying to get out before she’d even finished pulling the handle. She tried again, this time getting the door open and nearly falling out onto the pavement in her rush to get away from him.
She ran around to the other side of his car to get to her driver’s door, digging in her purse for her keys, feeling a tidal wave of panic wash over her. Still fumbling to get her fingers on the keys she could hear jingling at the bottom, she looked over her shoulder to see Mr. Arnaud still sitting in the next space, four feet away, with his window down, chin resting on his arm, watching her panicked struggle with a deviant smile.
“Goodnight, my Gabriella,” he said and pulled away.
Gabby dropped to her knees, spilling up the vodka tonics over the parking lot, praying no one watched her through the window, seeing the sick, used, and guilty girl on her knees.
Gabby crept through the house quietly, trying not to wake up Jake, who’d fallen asleep in front of the TV. She had three missed calls from him on her cell phone, and she hadn’t been able to bring herself to call him back before she got home.
She reached the bathroom, closing the door quietly, and ran a tub of hot—very hot—water. She stripped off her clothes, pulling all the dirty clothes out of the hamper and putting hers on the bottom before replacing the others on top of them.
Starting to shake now—either from the cool air-conditioner or nerves, she wasn’t sure—she stepped into the scorching water, dipping herself completely under, and then began to scrub herself from head to toe, with extra scrubbing in the middle parts, leaving her skin red as a lobster from the heat of the water and the scouring.
Only after she’d drained the bathtub and rinsed under the shower, then ran another tub of hot water to soak in did she let herself think back on this horrible night.
Did I cheat on Jake? Or was I taken advantage of while drunk? Is there a difference? Should I tell Jake now? Tell him ever? Should I tell someone else... someone who could tell Mr. Arnaud this was inappropriate and maybe illegal? Was this what I’ve heard about on TV where they described “date rape” or is this just a case of an accidental hook-up?
The questions pinged one right after the other against the inside of Gabby’s head. She hadn’t been physically hurt, so it’s not like Jake would notice. But Jake would be hurt if she told him; he would be devastated. Gabby knew in her heart she hadn’t meant for it to happen, and she’d tried her best to stop it when she became conscious of what was happening. She truly felt it wasn’t cheating, so to wake up Jake and tell him would cause unnecessary pain and irreparable damage to their marriage.
Gabby crawled into the bed, thinking this night was supposed to be special. She’d been so excited to tell Jake she accepted the office with the raise and the title. Three drinks and now look how it ended up, with her passed out while a man—her boss—one year more than twice her age, had his sick, perverted way with her. She was so ashamed and embarrassed.
If she could only take it back...
Gabby felt someone standing over her. She shot up from the bed, gasping and pulling the cover up with her, involuntarily trying to protect herself—from what, she couldn’t remember.
“Great day, Gabby. What you so jumpy about?” Jake asked. “I was just coming to ask if you were going to work. You’re late getting up.”
“No, I’m not going,” she said, flashes of last night blinding her mind.
“Why not?”
“I don’t feel well,” Gabby said, lying back down and pressing her face into the pillow, pulling the cover over her head. She implied she was sick, but that wasn’t exactly what she meant. I don’t feel like facing the office... or you, she thought.
“Where did you go last night? I didn’t hear you come in,” Jake said.
“We went to The Pub,” she answered shortly, hating herself for it. “Jake, can you just let me sleep?” Gabby asked, hoping to just gather her thoughts before his questions led to answers she wasn’t ready to give.
“Who all went?”
There it was... the start of the questions. Gabby sighed.
Tell him, tell him what happened right now. You have nothing to hide, her subconscious said. Jake can fix this. Let him handle Mr. Arnaud.
“Me and Mr. Arnaud... and Eileen,” Gabby mumbled, not having enough time to think through the repercussions of her answer.
Too late, dumbass, her subconscious said. Now you’ve set yourself up as a liar. He might never believe the truth.
“Well, what was the big news you were excited to tell me when you got home? I waited up to hear about it but fell asleep in front of the TV. Why didn’t you wake me up?” Jake questioned.
“I got a raise. And accepted the office and new title,” Gabby mumbled, wishing she hadn’t told Jake there was news. She didn’t even know if she still had a job at this point. She couldn’t see herself going back to face him.
“That’s great, Gabby! You deserve it,” Jake said proudly. “It’s about time they paid you for the work you’re doing.”
Tell him. You still have time... Hurry! her subconscious screamed at her. Tell him before he leaves. The sooner, the better. Don’t let the first lie stand long or you’ll never make him understand how it happened.
“I got to get goin’, Gabby. I hope you didn’t get food poisonin’ last night. Call me if you need me,” Jake said, then bent over to kiss her forehead and hurried away.
Gabby continued to stay in bed, and the day crept along until it was lunchtime. She got up only to grab some saltines and water (she really wasn’t feeling good after all) and pee. Her head was swimming in murky waters. Should I quit? If I do, how long will it be before I find another job? Could I find one that paid anywhere near what I’d been making before my official raise yesterday? Would Mr. Arnaud even give me a good reference? With no reference on my administrative or new accounting experience, I’ll have to go back to an accounts payable clerk position, which would mean a huge drop in salary. What if I don’t find a job at all? What if Jake and I lose our house? Jake can’t make the mortgage and all the other bills on his salary alone. What reason would I give for quitting? Would he see it as cheating when I didn’t know what was happening until it was too late? Would he divorce me? She didn’t blame him if he did. If the tables were turned, she wouldn’t let alcohol be an excuse for him sleeping with someone else, regardless of the circumstances. She knew she’d be beyond livid. She had to tell Jake. She couldn’t tell Jake. She had to keep her job. She couldn’t go back...
Gabby began to cry in frustration. This was all too complicated for her to untangle, and she had no one she could talk to. Olivia had grown distant since her return to rebuild her marriage with Billy. Even though she was only thirty minutes away, it was as if she were farther than ever. And Emma, although probably too young to understand anyway, had separated herself too, living on her own as if she were a grown-up, quitting school and running wild with that boy. Dad would probably get arrested going after Mr. Arnaud, and Mom was out of the question. She would just pat it over like a bad day at work. Gabby felt truly alone again; her family all living separate lives, unable to reach each other to pull anyone to safety.
The phone rang, startling Gabby out of her thoughts. It must be Jake checking on me, she thought. I’d better get it or he’ll get worried and come home.
“Hel
lo?” Gabby answered after clearing her throat and trying to stifle her sniffles.
“Gabriella?”
“This is Gabby!” she snapped, immediately recognizing Mr. Arnaud’s voice.
“Well... okay... Gabby, then. This is René. I called to check in at the office and Mr. Hinson said you hadn’t shown up today or called out. Are you ill?”
There was a long pause, a silence covering the elephant in the room—or on the line—and neither party said anything.
“Gabby, do you plan to come back to work?” Mr. Arnaud asked patiently.
“I don’t know...” Gabby answered quietly. She wasn’t sure how to handle this call. Accuse him of rape? Resign? She hadn’t yet untangled the mess in her mind enough to think clearly.
“Gabby, if this is about last night, you don’t need to worry. We both had too much to drink. These things happen between grown-ups. It was one time. It doesn’t have to continue,” he said. “Did you tell Jake about it?”
“No.”
“Good. Then there’s nothing to worry about. Just take the day and get your head together and I’ll let Mr. Hinson know you’re not feeling well and will be in on Monday,” he instructed. “Remember, I won’t be there next week, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk about what happened last night with anyone, especially at the office.”
I’ll just bet you would, Gabby thought and hung up the phone without a response.
Gabby arrived early at the office Monday morning after an agonizing weekend filled with guilt. One thing she knew for sure, she and Jake had worked hard for that house and she’d worked hard to get this position. She was going to stand her ground, do her job, and when Mr. Arnaud returned next week, she’d demand an apology.
She buried herself in her work, first having to move from her old desk to her new office, which took most of the day on Monday to get set up. The remainder of the week, she worked like a demon, keeping Mr. Hinson straightened out and happy, as well as finishing her accounting duties meticulously and thoroughly. Checking and double-checking every journal entry, balancing her bank rec’s to the penny—she found she loved the job. With the hours slipping by and the feeling of euphoria she felt at each task complete, she decided it wasn’t fair or necessary for her to resign. As the week flew by, the memory of the incident with Mr. Arnaud seemed far away, almost non-existent. It was pushed out of her mind. She left work Friday with a good attitude from a hardworking week and ready to spend some quality time with Jake.