Cake Love: All Things Payne

by Elizabeth Lynx

  Me: Black lace bra and panties. My panties are so wet I have to take them off. You know this would be a lot more exciting if I knew what you looked like.

  I hit enter and wait. A full minute passes before he responds. I feel quite certain I have scared him off.

  Hi-Ed-Junior: Perhaps we should talk about something else.

  Shit! I ruined it. There is probably no way he will send a picture now. I guess curiosity doesn't just kill cats, but sex chatting too.

  Me: Okay. I'm sorry I pushed you to show me what you look like. It's just I don't understand why you can't show me your picture? Are you much older than you said, or younger?

  Hi-Ed-Junior: No, I'm thirty-four, going to be thirty-five in December. I'm not married or in a relationship, if that is what you are thinking. I know it seems weird I haven't given you my pic, you have my word that my face is fully intact. :)

  Me: I'm thirty and single, but I don't mind giving you my pic if you want to see it. If you are a completely normal looking thirty-four year old single guy, then what is stopping you from letting me know what you look like?

  I just have to push this. What Eveleen told me today has been bugging me. I have to know more than his likes and dislikes.

  Hi-Ed-Junior: You can't tell but I just sighed and shrugged my shoulders in an overly dramatic way. How about this… My name is Ric and if you are free on Sunday at ten in the morning do you want to meet for coffee at Beans & Beans & More Beans on Wacker Drive by Lake?

  Ahhh! I got a date! Not just that but his name is Ric! Ric. Hi, Ric. So nice to meet you Ric. I like how your jeans look on my floor Ric. I'm going to see Ric in all hi-Ed-Junior-thirty-four-year-old-Raising-Arizona-loving-ness!

  Me: Yes! I am free. How will we recognize each other?

  Hi-Ed-Junior: I think it is supposed to rain that day. I have a blue plaid umbrella. I will bring it, rain or shine.

  Me: Oh, that's a good idea. The old recognize me by my umbrella bit. I have a red umbrella, I'll bring that.

  Hi-Ed-Junior: It's settled. What's your name? I told you mine; it's only fair you tell me yours.

  Hmm, that was the part I didn't mind so much, not knowing names. What if he turns out to be completely lame, then he might be able to find me based on my name. Not that many Morganas in the Chicago area.

  Me: It's Morgan.

  It's partially true. So I left off the ‘a’ at the end. Some people spell their name Ann instead of Anne, what's the difference? Stop judging me!

  Hi-Ed-Junior: Okay Morgan I'll see you Sunday at ten.

  We chat for a little while after that. I find out he used to take Improv classes at Second City when he was in college. The discussion turns serious when we debate how the Coen brothers would do if they directed by themselves. I couldn't tell from the writing but I have a feeling Ric might have been crying at one point.

  I end up falling asleep during our discussion and wake up Friday morning with my hand on the keyboard, the other down my pants, and my glasses covering my nose.

  Chapter 3

  Morgana's Problem: Her Job

  "Ms. Drake! My office. NOW."

  My head whips around from my computer to see Mr. Payne's door closing with a slam.

  Either the coffee was too cold this morning, or I am dressed inappropriately for the office again. He always gets slammy with the door when those two things have happened.

  Looking down at my gray cashmere dress I realize it's a crew neck. No showing off the ta-ta's today. Guess I will just have to hike up the hemline enough when I sit to show off my thigh high stockings. Yeah, that will add salt to the wound.

  Getting up I walk over and throw open the door. The thud of it crashing into the wall stirs him from his typing and the blue of his eyes disappear as his eyelids form a slit. He hates to have to look at me, I know it. Look, baby, look at what you can't have or could have if you tried. Please try. Damn, I'm pathetic.

  Bringing myself over to the chair I glide into the soft tan cushioned seat with ease. I prepare for the Payne attack by lifting and adjusting what is needed.

  His eyes fall to my legs as I cross them. Mr. Payne's hand runs through his hair and he grumbles something. He refocuses on the computer as he addresses me, "Ms. Drake something has come to my attention that is extremely serious."

  Oh God I knew that YouTube sex video of me would be found sooner or later. He is probably chomping at the bit to fire me. Pissed off about all these teasing games I play with him and now he has evidence to lay into me. Why, oh why, did my idiot ex-boyfriend Trevor think it was a good idea to film us having sex? If he had just told me about it I would have pointed out the utter stupidity of his logic.

  I liked Trevor Trance. No, that's not true, I loved him. We were fresh out of college when we met and I thought he was the one. I know, very naive on my part but what can I say, I was young. We were together for three years. He was everything to me.

  One day I came home from working as Sales Manager at VonCroy Department Store, tired and cranky. When I walked in the bedroom he had sprinkled the bed with rose petals, and candles were lit everywhere. I thought that he was finally going to propose to me. When he walked over with a new red lace nightie for me to put on I got so excited. I remember racing into the bathroom to put on the negligee and practicing my "Yes, I'll marry you!" face.

  After the terrible sex (no amount of romance can make up for being an awful lover) where he just kept looking over at the dresser making faces and not paying any attention to me, I laid on the bed waiting for the ring. After a while I went into the kitchen to get some water and he yelled out to get him some too. I thought maybe he is stalling to get the ring out. When I came back to the bedroom he was sound asleep. Then a week later Aria (who watches YouTube porn all the time - don't ask) pointed out a video that looked a lot like Trevor and me. I freaked and confronted him. Needless to say he was quite proud of the shoddy production and I finally kicked him out of my life. I started to go by my middle name because Mr. Douchebag used our first names on the video title.

  It has been five years, and I thought that video would die away. Now I sit here in Mr. Payne's office trying to pull my dress over my knees, hoping I don't get fired.

  "Look Mr. Payne, it was a long time ago. I didn't even realize I was being filmed."

  His clicking with the mouse stops as he turns to look at me; his face scrunches up in confusion.

  "What are you talking about? The serious matter is about our London office. What we have been working late for all week."

  D’oh!

  I nod furiously as if that is what I am referring to.

  "Of course, yes. I knew that."

  He is squinting at me again. My confusion is adding to his irritation, well at least I know he isn't about to fire me.

  “Anyway Ms. Drake, we have to fly to London for emergency meetings. We are expected there by Monday. I know this is very short notice, but Mr. Mimir's assistant, Kara, has taken care of the flight and hotel arrangements. I assume your passport up to date."

  I sit in shock. The good kind of shock because it's London baby! I have never been to London or anywhere in Europe, or anywhere other than Canada. Aria and I decided a few years ago to visit Vancouver for a girl’s weekend. That city is gorgeous and we had a great time, but I always dreamed of flying overseas.

  "Yes Mr. Payne."

  "Good. The flight leaves Sunday evening, Kara will email you the specifics. Mr. Jacob Mimir and his assistant, Kara, Mr. Edgar Mimir and his assistant, John, and you and I will all meet for dinner on Monday at a later specified restaurant at 6:30 local time to discuss the events of the week. That is all."

  He is waving the back of his hand at me as if shooing a fly. I get up to leave but right as I am at the door I hear Mr. Payne, "Ms. Drake. I know in order to be considered for the Executive Development Program here you have to have been employed with us for a year. Sometimes an exceptional employee has made it in after six months. If you show both Jacob and Edgar Mimir, on this trip how ded
icated you are to the company, I know they will accept my recommendation to let you enter the program early."

  He goes back to typing and flicks his hand at me again. In a heart-fluttery-rainbows-and-butterflies haze I walk back to my desk and sit. Mr. Payne has never paid me a compliment before, let alone talked about recommending me early into the program. The best I ever got from him was a grumble and nod after he took a sip of his morning coffee. Wait, that's not totally true. Let me rephrase that, he has never paid me a compliment about my work before.

  This is the whole reason I have stayed his assistant for so long, the Executive Development Program. After I complete that I can practically have any job in the company I want. I have been planning for this since college. When Mimir created this program ten years ago, my whole career path has been centered on getting a job that will lead to this program.

  My dream is to be Mr. Payne or any of the top executives at Mimir. I want to have a position with this company that is so vital, without me it would come close to falling apart. That may sound a tad narcissistic but hear me out. How many times has a boss or teacher or parent given you a pitiful look as you told them about an idea? I can’t count the number of times people in charge thought I had two heads just because I thought outside the box. My ideas were always sound and I put effort into them, only to be dismissed like a child.

  When Trevor took advantage of my trust I realized it was time to focus on my goal of proving to the people around me that not only am I smart, but I am a woman to be taken seriously. Therefore I stopped dating and put all my energy into building up my resume, knowing who I wanted to impress. So, when I found out Mr. Payne needed an executive assistant late last year I jumped at the chance to interview. Sure, it's been hell but I just keep my eye on the prize.

  I have been here about four months and he already wants me to move forward! Perhaps he doesn't hate me. Or, he just wants to get rid of me. He knows how liked I am around here, especially by the Mimir brothers. This is his one chance to get away from me. That must be it. Well, no problem for me. I won't have to see his face every day once I am in the program.

  No more wondering if he might grab me at my hips and pin me to his desk to have his way with me. No more spanking. No more fucking me on a conference table, making me have multiple orgasms. Wait, why don't I want that?

  "Focus Morgana. You can see the finish line; don't let Heart and Vagina cloud your judgment." Brain points out.

  "I know Brain; it's all we worked for. I'll try, I promise."

  Brain nods.

  "Good girl. It helps to focus on the bad things he did. Let me just bring those files up on my screen. Ah...there we go." Brain types away on her computer.

  No more of him telling me it was all a mistake. He won’t have to ignore me anymore. No more fetching his coffee like a dog. Now is my chance to never have to deal with him again. As excited as I am by the program, there is a part of me that is sad I may never see him again.

  I lean back in my chair and break out my cell phone to call Aria.

  "Hey what's up?"

  “Bring home some champagne from work tonight Aria, we’re celebrating!”

  Aria works at a bar. She works the day shifts during the week, which aren't best for making money but they give her Saturday nights, so it all evens out. Since her paintings don't sell enough to make rent, bartending helps.

  "What's the occasion, little one?"

  "I may be entering the Executive Development Program early, AND I am going to London next week!"

  I attach a scream at the end of that sentence and I can hear Aria screaming on the other end. She may not be into business but she knows how important this is to me.

  "Oh girl! I am bringing home the good stuff! Actual champagne, not that sparkling wine crap we settle for. We’re drinking the real deal tonight!”

  "Yeah! Well, I got to go. I just wanted to let you know. I'll see you tonight for our celebration!"

  "Sounds good. Aria out."

  I hear the click and know she's gone. As I am putting my phone back into my purse I hear Mr. Payne's door click open.

  "Ms. Drake. Print out the merchant contracts for Great Britain for the past two years. Clear my schedule for the rest of the day. We need to go through each contract to make sure there isn't anything that might conflict with the new laws."

  "Shouldn't Legal being doing that?"

  He’s curling his hand making his knuckles white while gritting his teeth. After taking a deep breath Mr. Payne speaks to me, "Of course they are, but we need to be on top of everything. You better learn this now Ms. Drake, the more you know the less likely someone will take advantage or worse, destroy you."

  I just stare at him. I think someone has a few control issues.

  "Yes Mr. Payne. I will get right on it."

  He steps back inside his office shutting the door when it stops midway and opens again. Mr. Payne pops his head back out.

  "Oh, Ms. Drake, we'll be working late again tonight so order food for dinner."

  The door slams shut and I groan. Great, another night of cold pizza. Yippie!

  Chapter 4

  Morgana's Problem: Her Family

  I have been battling a hangover all morning. Due to the champagne festivities that occurred between me, Aria, and a few bottles of bubbly sweet goodness, I want to curl up in a hot bath and go to sleep. Unfortunately that will cause me to drown, so I decide on a shower instead.

  As I let the hot spray massage my throbbing head I hear a pounding at the glass door of the shower. Jumping and almost killing myself due to a ceramic tile attacking my head, I open the door a few inches to see Aria wide eyed staring back.

  "God Aria! Can't you just say something before you bang on the shower door? If you keep this up I'm going to die wet and naked." That would be so much better if a man were involved.

  "How else am I to get your attention? Anyway your mom called, she wants you to pick up some groceries on your way over later."

  I shut off the shower. No amount of water massage will cure me of this headache that is ten times worse thanks to the Aria invasion.

  "Why did you answer my phone again?"

  I step out as she hands me a towel and walks over to the toilet to do her business. She shrugs her shoulders while seated and I hear the spray of liquid coming from beneath her.

  "How else are you going to know who is calling? Plus, what if it was an emergency?"

  I dig under the sink for my hair dryer and plug it into the wall, but pause before turning to face her.

  "I would know who called by seeing a missed call on my phone. If it was an emergency they would have left a message and after my ten minute shower I would have gotten the message. Boundaries, Aria!"

  I turn the dryer on and start to work on my long red hair. Aria is behind me in the mirror mouthing something. I shut off the hair dryer to hear.

  "What?"

  "You talk about boundaries Morgana, but I do not think you know what that word means."

  I shake my head in confusion.

  "What? It means don't touch my stuff!"

  She chuckles as she walks out of the bathroom and I see the back of her head shake.

  "No it means a gift or reward."

  Oh Aria, no. Just no.

  Before I can correct her that she means the word bounty, she's left my bedroom. She has her own bathroom and yet she still insists on using mine. I don't know if she has used her bathroom once, but God forbid I ask her to help out in cleaning my bathroom. Only then she suddenly has her own bathroom to clean. Just thinking this makes me roll my eyes, which sets off my headache – again – thanks Aria!

  After I finish getting ready, I call my mom back to get the specifics on the grocery list. I sometimes wonder if my parents didn't have children, would they have starved to death? The moment my brother and I could drive we were in charge of groceries and laundry. When my parents visit they bring laundry with them. I'm totally serious! I tell them all the time it should be the other way
around, but they insist that their washer is on the fritz. How can a washer and dryer be broken for ten years?

  After getting ready I head out the door to the store and pick up what my mother requested. Once I am at my parents' modest home in Evanston, just north of Chicago, I lug up the four heavy bags of groceries to the front door of the suburban two story home and hear mumbling inside. Lowering the bags I listen.

  "She's here! Everyone act natural!" I can hear my mom yell at the top of her lungs. Guess I didn't really need to press my ear to the door.

  I sigh and slump my shoulders. Why? Because I know what this 'dinner' is about. It's my surprise birthday party. Never mind that my thirtieth birthday was over a month ago, that isn't important to my mom. I was a preemie, born almost five weeks early. My mom's due date was April ninth, but I decided to show up March third. She refuses to accept that I came early. As hippy-dippy as my mother is, she is very much the perfectionist. She expects things to go exactly as she has planned. She intended on an April baby and damn it, she was going to have an April baby.

  I open the door, pick up the bags, and drag them inside. My dad is sitting in his blue lazy-boy recliner watching the Cubs on TV and my brother with his 'girl of the moment' situated next to him on the lived in tan couch.

  "No please, these aren't heavy. I don't need help," I mention as I drop the bags to the floor with a loud thud.

  The men nod but stay fixated on the giant flat screened television hanging on the far wall that separates the family room from the kitchen. My father is a big man. I mean tall, muscular, but now a little more thick around the middle. The only man I have ever met that matched my father in build is Mr. Payne. Oh God, I hope I don't have a father complex. I shudder just thinking about it.

  My dad kept the real loser guys away from me in high school and a bit in college, but once I lived on my own he lost his control. That's how Trevor got through. Guys up until that point treated me fairly well. No one ever cheated on me for fear of my dad and, as my brother got older, of him too. For my brother, Daniel, he not only has my father’s thick dark brown hair, but also his height and build.