by Lola Swain
“He was not a crush,” Vicky said and grabbed Mitchell’s arm. “Harry Masters was not a crush! She stole something from me, don’t you see that?”
“Remind me never to do anything to piss you off, Vicky,” Mitchell said and pulled his arm away from Vicky and knocked on the divider so his driver knew it was time to leave.
As the car pulled out of the alley, Vicky stared at Mitchell and smiled.
“Then don’t,” she said and slid toward him.
“Don’t what?” Mitchell said.
“Don’t piss me off. You may not like the result.”
For the first time in his life, Mitchell Rowlett realized he was in over his head with this pretty little fuck.
“I will try,” he said and sighed. “This is not helping me figure out what to do about the Zoe problem at work.”
“Just fire the bitch, Mitchell,” Vicky said and fluffed her hair. “It’s really not that difficult.”
Vicky poured Mitchell a scotch and shoved the glass into his hand. He knocked it back in one gulp and hung his head.
“I cannot fire her.”
“Will not, you mean. You will not fire her because you are soft.”
“She has the potential to ruin me.”
“No, I have the potential to ruin you. Fine, have her transferred.”
“Transferred where? I only have the one office.”
“Jesus Christ, Mitchell, do I have to wipe your ass for you too? Have her—”
Mitchell reached out and slapped Vicky across the face. He jumped on top of her and held her down on the seat.
“Hey, do not talk to me like that, little girl. Do you understand me?”
Vicky looked up at Mitchell and rubbed her stinging cheek. She smiled and craned her neck toward him and gave him a long, passionate kiss.
“I’m sorry, daddy,” she said as she nibbled on his bottom lip. “What I meant was, you should call one of your competitors and see if they have a place for her.”
Mitchell shifted his hips and pressed his hardening cock into Vicky’s mound and smiled.
“Well, this wasn’t a completely useless conversation. You’re on to something, my dear. I can call Madge Jenkins. She owns a nice little PR firm on Congress. She’s an insufferable bitch and always looking for replacement employees. She’s also a first-rate dyke and will take Zoe in a heartbeat.”
“Then it’s settled,” Vicky said and pressed her fingertips into Mitchell’s ass. “Now, shove that cock into my pussy right now. By my estimation we have about five minutes before your driver arrives at my apartment.”
It took exactly three days for Zoe’s transfer to finalize. Before she had a second to figure out what was going on, she sat at another desk in another office with another boss and Mitchell was out of her life for good.
This latest maneuver sunk Zoe deep into despondency.
She paced the floor of her apartment and racked her brain trying to figure out what she did wrong. Her roommate was no help to her since she was in the throes of a new romance with a mystery man she refused to introduce to Zoe.
She was left to figure it out on her own and try as she did, she could not understand. She wrote letter after letter to Mitchell begging him to tell her what went wrong. They all went unanswered. She lost more weight and phoned him incessantly.
When Mitchell changed his phone number, Zoe took to wandering the streets…any street…all dressed up in her finest clothes hoping to magically bump into him. This was no small task in a city the size of Boston. But she never saw him.
“I’m going to his house,” she said one night when Vicky was home.
“What?” Vicky said from her bedroom.
“I said, I am going to Mitchell’s house,” Zoe said as she peeled herself off the couch.
Vicky walked out into the living room in her robe and stared at her depressed friend. The sight of Zoe made her very happy. She was a mess. Hair sticking up everywhere, makeup streaked all over her face, swollen, red eyes. Vicky squealed inside.
“Are you drunk again, Zoe? You cannot be serious. First of all, it’s one o’clock in the morning! Second, you’re insane.”
“Yes, I am insane,” Zoe said as she stared at Vicky and nodded. “I need to know why he disappeared. I need closure.”
“Closure? Do you hear yourself? You sound like an armchair psychiatrist, for Christ’s sakes! Here is your closure, Zoe: Mitchell is gone. Period. No more Mitchell. Case closed.”
“But why? People don’t just walk away without a word.”
Vicky wanted to scratch the bitch’s eyes out. Harry Masters walked away without a word, Vicky thought. Walked away from her with Zoe and neither one of them allowed her the closure Zoe pathetically whined about.
Then Vicky had an ingenious idea.
“You know what,” Vicky said and sat on the couch next to Zoe, “you’re right, you do need closure. It isn’t fair that Mitchell up and left you with no explanation. And I’ve been a bad friend. I’ve not been around to help you. Well, that’s going to end right now.”
Vicky stood and ran to her bedroom. Zoe followed her and watched Vicky dress.
“Where are you going now?” she said as she sat on Vicky’s bed.
“We,” Vicky said as she pulled a turtleneck over her head. “We are going to Mitchell’s.”
“You really think it’s a good idea? He will go ballistic.”
“Fuck him, Zoe. He should not have done this to you. You need closure. Fuck what he needs and wants. He lives in Cambridge, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“But nothing, Zoe,” Vicky said and dragged her friend out of her room. “We can take Fernando’s car. He won’t be back until Thursday and I still have his keys.”
“Wait,” Zoe said as Vicky pulled her out their front door, “shouldn’t I change?”
Vicky almost pissed herself as she stared at Zoe and was barely able to stifle a laugh. What a fucking mess…a ripped sweatshirt, sweatpants that were far too big, dirty hair and puffy eyes. She looked like a homeless drunk.
“You look fine. Let’s go.”
Vicky dragged Zoe into the elevator and Zoe tried in vain to fix herself as she stared at her reflection in the elevator doors.
“I look horrid, Vick.” She said and sighed.
“You look upset and that’s okay. You are upset.”
They drove the short distance to Cambridge and Zoe grew very anxious as they pulled up in front of Mitchell’s large home.
“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. It is awful late.”
“Nah, there are lights on inside.”
Of course Vicky knew why there were lights on in the house. Mitchell refused to see Vicky that night because his wife threw a dinner party. That did not sit well at all with Vicky. It was the first time Mitchell refused her and she did not like to be refused. Ever.
“I don’t know,” Zoe said as she leaned over Vicky and stared at the house. “I can’t do this.”
“Nonsense! Your schnapps just wore off. Check in the glove box. Fernando always has a bottle on him.”
Zoe opened the glove box of their neighbor’s car and located a fifth of bourbon barely touched.
“See?” Vicky said as she stared at Mitchell’s house and pictured herself setting the dining room table. “Take a couple of good pulls on that bottle.”
Zoe put the bottle to her lips and sipped the strong liquor. Vicky reached over and tipped the bottle up, forcing a deluge of bourbon down Zoe’s throat.
“Fuck,” Zoe choked out after she swallowed the mouthful of bourbon.
“Wipe your chin,” Vicky said as she opened the car door. “Get out of the car. It’s time.”
Vicky and Zoe walked up to the house and Vicky pushed Zoe up the stone steps toward the Rowlett’s large, leaded glass front door.
“Ring the bell, Zoe,” Vicky said as she nudged her friend.
“What do I say?” Zoe said and rubbed her swollen eyes.
“Figure it out,” Vicky said and
reached over Zoe and rang the doorbell. “Think of something, Zoe. The lady of the house is coming.”
Zoe and Vicky watched the distorted image of a woman walking toward them through the glass on the front door. Zoe swayed from side to side as peppermint schnapps, bourbon and adrenaline mingled in her cells and caused a chemical explosion near her heart. Vicky chewed on her pinkie nail and started to feel a tiny bit of dread as the woman opened the door. And when she was in front of them, all Zoe and Vicky could do is shake their heads as they stared at Mitchell’s pretty wife.
“Yes?” Mrs. Rowlett said as she wiped her hands on a dish towel and stared at the girls in front of her.
Zoe ran her fingers through her tangled hair and opened and closed her mouth like a guppy as she stared at Mrs. Rowlett.
“May I help you?”
Zoe turned to Vicky.
“Do you see?” Zoe said and closed her eyes.
“Yep, can’t miss that,” Vicky said and frowned.
“May I help—” Mitchell’s wife said.
Zoe pointed at Mrs. Rowlett.
“You’re—”
“Pregnant,” Vicky said.
Mrs. Rowlett rubbed her pregnant belly and cocked her head as she stared at Zoe.
“Wait,” she said and smiled. You work with Mitch. Darcy, right?”
“No,” Zoe said. “I’m—”
“Zoe,” Vicky said. “Her name is Zoe.”
“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Rowlett said and stared at Vicky “I could have sworn her name was Darcy. And you are?”
“I am Vicky. Zoe’s friend.”
“I’m Amanda, Mitchell’s wife. What can I do for you girls?”
“Mitchell,” Zoe said. “I-Is he here?”
“Of course he is. I’ll get him. But just for a moment, okay? Its late and we have old friends in from Providence.”
Mrs. Rowlett walked away and left the girls standing in the open doorway.
“Holy shit,” Vicky said and shook her head. “Pregnant, huh? And she looks like she’s due any day. What a fucking cocksucker!”
Zoe backed away from the door on the landing to the front steps. Vicky swung around and stared at her.
“Where the fuck are you going?” Vicky said.
“We have to go, now!” Zoe said.
Vicky reached out and grabbed Zoe’s wrist and pulled her toward her.
“The fuck we do. We came here for a reason. Just because this cocksucker is fucking around on his pregnant wife doesn’t change the mission. We do not deviate from the plan! Now, pack some fucking ice in your veins,” Vicky said as she turned to the door to see Mitchell walking toward them through his foyer with Mrs. Rowlett following behind him.
“Yes?” he said and closed his eyes as he focused on Vicky.
Vicky flung Zoe toward the doorway and she grabbed onto the doorjamb to prevent herself from flying into Mitchell. He looked from Vicky to Zoe and back at Vicky and shook his head.
“Mitch,” Mrs. Rowlett said from behind him, “this is—”
“I know who they are, Amanda,” Mitchell said over his shoulder. “Give us a moment? This won’t take long.”
“Your wife is—” Zoe said and hung her head and cried.
“What about me?” Amanda Rowlett said and pushed Mitchell aside to make room for herself in the doorway.
“Pregnant,” Vicky said and stared at Mitchell. “Your wife is pregnant, Mitch.”
Zoe looked at Vicky and then at Amanda Rowlett. Amanda rubbed her belly and smiled.
“Yes,” she said, “Mitch and I are expecting another child next month. A boy, finally.”
“Amanda,” Mitchell said, “our guests—”
Vicky’s blood boiled.
“Isn’t that sweet, Zoe?” Vicky said. “Your boyfriend and his wife are expecting a little boy next month! Finally.”
“I’m sorry…what did you say?” Amanda said.
Mitchell put his hand on his wife’s arm and pulled her back. She ripped her arm away from him and walked toward the girls.
“Vicky,” Zoe said under her breath.
“What? Don’t you think this poor soul should know what her cocksucker of a husband has been doing night after night when she’s been home alone decorating the nursery?”
“Vicky!” Mitchell said and tried to grab her arm.
Vicky jumped back and grabbed Mitchell’s shirt with one hand and the collar of Zoe’s sweatshirt with the other as she went flying backward off the landing. Zoe, Vicky and Mitchell went tumbling down the stone steps and landed with a thud on the sidewalk.
“Mitch!” Mrs. Rowlett cried out. “Help, someone!”
Zoe wiggled out from under Vicky and Mitch and crawled away from them. They were struggling on the sidewalk and she rubbed her forehead and saw blood on her fingertips.
“Vicky,” Zoe said as she looked toward Mitchell’s front door and saw his guests gathered on the landing watching the scene, “we need to go now! I’m hurt!”
“Don’t you fucking move!” Mitchell said to Zoe through clenched teeth as he struggled to get out of Vicky’s grasp. “I’m going to really hurt you once I get away from this crazy bitch!”
“Careful, Mitch,” Vicky said under her breath as she slid her hand in between their bodies and grabbed his cock, “I think you’re getting a hard-on.”
Mitchell stopped struggling for a moment and stared into Vicky’s eyes.
“How could you do this to me?”
“I didn’t do a thing. Your girlfriend did,” she said and smiled.
“You are positively insane,” Mitchell said and relaxed a bit in Vicky’s arms. “Do you have any idea how insane you are?”
“Absolutely,” Vicky said and giggled when Amanda Rowlett started screaming for Mitchell to get up.
Zoe couldn’t look scooted further away from he and Vicky. She wanted to roll into the storm drain and let the sewerage-filled current carry her out to the sea. Some of the guests ran down the steps toward Vicky and Mitchell.
“Vicky!” Zoe said as a man ran toward her followed by Mrs. Rowlett.
“You!” Amanda Rowlett screamed as the man shielded her from Zoe. “Are you fucking my husband? Tell me right now, you little whore!”
Zoe hung her head and struggled to answer the question. She looked up at Mrs. Rowlett and saw she had as much pain in her eyes as Zoe felt in hers. The man who stood between the women knelt down in front of Zoe. He reached toward her face and Zoe flinched.
“It’s okay,” he said in a voice as warm as lamb’s wool as he brushed her hair out of her face.
Zoe looked into the man’s beautiful eyes and then back at Amanda Rowlett who was standing before her clutching her belly.
“No,” Zoe said and cried. “I am not fucking your husband.”
“You hear that, Amanda? Did you hear what this crazy whore said? We are not fucking!” Mitchell said and grabbed a fistful of Vicky’s arm fat and twisted until she released him.
Mitchell jumped off of Vicky and ran to his wife’s side. He whispered into Amanda’s ear and she nodded and allowed Mitchell to lead her up the steps. Some of the Rowlett’s guests followed the humiliated couple back into their home and Vicky turned on her side and watched Mitch walk away from her without a second glance. She knew his back was the last that she’d ever see of Mitchell Rowlett again. She turned and looked at Zoe, unaware of their exchange and at the handsome man kneeling in front of her friend.
“What’s your name?” the man said to Zoe as he placed his fingers on her forehead.
“Zoe,” she said as she swiped at her eyes.
“Very pretty name, Zoe. Did you hit the back of your head?” The man said as he pushed his fingers through Zoe’s hair and pressed against the back of her scalp.
“I-I’m fine,” Zoe said and tried to give the man a weak smile.
“You have quite a scrape on your forehead,” he said as he smoothed Zoe’s hair down with his fingertips.
Vicky watched their exchange and seethed. Unbeli
evable, she thought. Only Zoe could cause a massive scene in Cambridge and find a potential date! And as usual, Vicky got less than the short end of the stick.
Zoe wanted to go home and shower the disgust she felt off her body.
“Like I said, I’m fine,” Zoe said and tried to stand up, but the man pushed her down.
“Slowly,” he said as he stood and reached down and pulled Zoe off the ground gently. “We don’t need you falling again.”
The man pulled a penlight out of his coat pocket and flashed the light in Zoe’s eyes as he touched the back of her head.
“What are—”
“Shhh,” he said and smiled, “it’s okay, Zoe. I’m a doctor.”
Dr. Allen Connor was born in a blessed environment of privilege and wealth. His parents, Dr. Gregory and Mrs. Tricia Connor, groomed their son to follow in their footsteps. His father was a respected cardiologist and on the board at Harvard Medical. His mother, not content with being a homemaker, graduated from Harvard Law and opened a successful private practice in their town of Marblehead.
Allen Connor went to Boston Latin, did undergraduate work at Harvard and completed his M.D. at Harvard Medical. This was the path his parents decided for him when he was born 33 years ago and there was no deviation from that path. It was a predetermined, predestine and rigid path.
Allen Connor was a beautiful child who grew into a handsome and, as good-looks seem to determine, very popular boy. The kind of boy who wins Most Likely to Succeed and Best Looking in every grade he attends. At over six feet tall with a hard, chiseled physique, Allen Connor looked like the best looking guy in an Abercrombie and Fitch advertisement. With light, hazel eyes that turned green in the summer as his smooth skin bronzed and full, beautiful lips, girls fought over the privilege of simply walking with the boy on campus.
And as it goes, he had a steady diet of beautiful babysitters, hot cheerleaders and sexy sorority girls from the day his sixteen-year-old babysitter deflowered him in the guest home on his parent’s estate when he was twelve. Allen Connor has a personality and magnetism that drew people to him immediately. He had an easy, sleepy smile that told girls they could trust him and he would never go any further than they wanted to.