by Cheri Wood
GCS
I wake before he does, and I quickly realize I’m in desperate need of a shower. Resisting the urge to wake him and ask him to join me – or to sneak a peek at his true face – I head into the bathroom. As I wash myself, I realize it was probably a good idea not to wake him. I’m tender from all the activity and I’m not sure I could have taken another pounding so soon. It’s a good thing my husband doesn’t want me anymore, or he’d be suspicious of my well-used lady parts.
The water feels great, and the complimentary shower products smell pretty nice, so I’m in no hurry to get out. I even catch myself humming from time to time. Eventually, though, my skin begins to prune and I turn off the spray.
The mirror is fogged up and I wipe the surface with my hand, baring the reflection of my eyes. I haven’t seen this sparkle in them for a long time. This has gone on for too long. I don’t want to let any other men into my body. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with a man who doesn’t show me any affection, appreciation or respect. I want to know the real Mr. Hush. I want more.
It’s scary, but tonight has changed things, and I know I can’t go back to the way things were. Not when I’ve gotten a taste of what they might be. I’m going to tell him. Now.
I take a deep breath, give myself one last look in the mirror, and open the door. The room smells of sex and the rumpled sheets only underscore that fact. What is missing, however, is the man responsible. His clothes are gone, too, meaning he actually left while I was in the shower. Was he just pretending to be asleep when I woke up?
I feel used and discarded as it sinks in that I am nothing more than a booty call to him, and I hug myself against the sudden chill. I gather my clothes with a sigh and start dressing for the day ahead. I do a last sweep of the room to make sure I haven’t left anything behind and that’s when I see it. On the nightstand on his side of the bed lies a stack of bills. Head buzzing and hands shaking, I pick them up and do a quick count. Two thousand dollars.
I make it to the bathroom just in time.
GCS
Disgusted with Mr. Hush, and even more disgusted with myself, I clean up and leave the hotel room. At the last minute, I decide to take the cash, leaving a couple of bills for the housekeeper who will have to clean up our mess.
It stings that he treated me like a prostitute, but my pride is even worse off. How could I have been so stupid as to think we could actually have something real? I’ve been living in a fantasy when it comes to Mr. Hush, but that ends today. Determined to make a change, I delete his texts and block his number. If he wants to screw me again, he can do so on the company’s time.
VIII
Freshly scolded by the realization that I’ve been living with one foot in a fantasy world for the past six months, I’m determined to make an effort to restore my marriage.
I make sure to be home early every evening, have dinner ready on time, keep the house spotless, smile and converse at social functions. In short, I do everything Tom – or any man, for that matter – could ask for. I don’t initiate sex, as Tom appears to find that off-putting these days, but if he asks, I’ll do whatever he wants. Except he doesn’t ask.
With every passing day of this new-and-improved version of my life, I grow more and more introverted – not just with Tom, but with everyone. I feel like I’m walking around with cotton balls in my ears, a mindless drone going through the motions. I try to be the perfect employee, too, and when I’m not at home, I’m at the office.
I’ve taken a month’s vacation from Gold Club Staffing’s lucrative side business. Most of my clients have already found new favorite girls, anyway. The only steady client I have these days is Mr. Hush, and I’m not ready to see – or be around – him just yet. As far as I know, he hasn’t asked for me, either.
Tom doesn’t remark on the changes I’ve made, or on how I’m slowly dying inside. To be fair, he’s insanely busy at the firm, taking on cases the senior partners don’t have time for, and working long hours, sometimes having to stay over in the city. I spend many nights at the kitchen table with a prepared meal growing cold as I wait to hear back from him on whether he’s coming home or not. I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this.
GCS
It’s Friday afternoon and I’ve spent hours on my feet, helping Nick navigate the job fair he’s been enlisted as speaker at without being mauled by women or pestered with unsolicited business pitches from people who are supposed to be helping youths decide on a career, not further their own. I’m packing up what remains of our promotional material when Nick approaches me.
“Just about ready to go?”
“Yeah. It looks like you were a hit with the kids, there’s not much left of the giveaways.”
“I think that probably falls into the category of ‘free stuff always sells’,” Nick says with a crooked smile.
“Well, most of the brochures are gone, too, so…”
“Good. Less for me to lug back to the office.”
“Need some help?”
“Oh, please. I am man, watch me carry,” he says in a deep voice, hefting the cardboard box I’ve just closed. He fakes staggering under the weight of the box and I can’t help but laugh.
“Okay, then. Go on, I’ll watch.”
“It’s nice to hear you laugh,” he says as he heads for the exit. I follow, unable to resist the bait.
“I laugh all the time,” I remark as we reach his car in the parking lot.
“Huh.” He doesn’t exactly sound like he agrees.
“What does that mean?”
He shrugs. “It’s just… I haven’t heard it in a while. Hey, do you mind grabbing my keys? Right jacket pocket.”
I reach into his pocket and pull out his keys, pressing the button to unlock the car. “I guess I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”
“You know you can talk to me, right? If I’m working you too hard, or if you’re having difficulties, I’m here.”
“Thanks, but work’s fine.”
“I don’t have any complaints. I’ve just noticed you’ve seemed a bit down lately.”
I shrug. “Just life stuff. I’ll work harder.”
“No,” he says and sets the box down on the passenger seat before turning back to face me, “that’s the last thing I want. Maybe you should take some time off, go on a vacation or something. I hear California is nice this time of year.”
“I can’t just go on vacation, Nick. I have a husband to take care of. Responsibilities.”
“I’m sorry, is he sick?” Nick frowns.
“No. Why?”
“You just said you needed to take care of him, I figured-“
“Oh. No, I just meant, like regular wifely duties. Not that kind,” I add quickly when I realize what it sounded like. Then I go and stick my foot even deeper into my mouth. “I mean, of course that’s part of- oh, never mind.”
“Callie. How old is Tom, again?” He rests his arm on top of the car door.
“Forty… three.”
“Right. The last time I checked the Adult Male Handbook, I’m pretty sure it stated that once we reach the ripe age of twenty-one, we are expected to be able to take care of ourselves.”
“You did not just say ‘Adult Male Handbook’?” I can’t help but snort.
“I’m bad at thinking up analogies, okay?” he cringes. “My point is, you shouldn’t have to be at the beck and call of your husband twenty-four-seven. He can manage a few days without you.” As if to punctuate his statement, Nick closes the passenger door.
I promise Nick I’ll think about it, and then I head home to make my husband a dinner that he’s likely to miss.
GCS
I have a lunch meeting with Mr. Hush and I’m not looking forward to it. When I get to the room, though, I find that a table has been set up with an extravagant meal, a vase filled with white roses, and a laptop. I look around the room before I take a seat, but I’m alone. The Skype application is running and I have an alert for a new message.
I open the window to a conversation with “Hush”. Call me when you’re ready, the message reads. I take a deep breath and click the video call button. He accepts the call, but not the video feed on his end, leaving me with an image of the Gold Club Staffing logo to look at. And myself, in the smaller window, of course.
“Escalating from phone sex, are we?” I say into the air, knowing the built-in microphone will transmit it to his ears, wherever he may be.
A message appears in the chat box. I wanted to apologize
So, he’s not going to actually speak. I’m not surprised, but an apology would be better received if it was actually verbalized.
I shouldn’t have left like that
“No, you really shouldn’t,” I reply, unable to play the forgiving, submissive hooker.
You’re angry with me
“No, I’m peachy,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “As it turns out, you did me a favor.”
How so?
“You made me see things for what they truly are. No more confusion.”
Were you confused?
“It doesn’t matter. Let’s just get on with it, shall we?” I snap at him and untie my robe. “What do you want me to do?”
Have lunch with me
“That’s hardly what you’re paying me for,” I scoff.
Are you upset about that? Me paying you for your time?
“It’s part of the job. Just as well we got that straight. Wouldn’t want there to be any confusion as to what we’re doing here.”
I like you
“Well, I would hope so, seeing as you keep coming back for more.”
That’s not what I meant and you know it
“I don’t know anything.” I cross my arms and wait for his reply. The little moving pen at the bottom of the chat window tells me he’s writing, but nothing is coming through. When a message finally appears, it’s a long one.
I know I haven’t been with another woman since I met you. I know that when I take myself in hand, it’s your face I’m picturing. I know I blurred the line between us by contacting you, but I’m not sorry I got to make love to you at the Marquis.
I scoff, trying desperately to mask the hurt. “We didn’t ‘make love’, you fucked me and paid for the pleasure.”
I’m sorry you feel that way
“You’re freaking kidding me with this, right? You paid me, Hush! Like some whore you’d picked up at the hotel bar, or some call girl picking up the phone for your booty call. I’m not pretending like I’m better than anyone else selling their body, but I stupidly thought you were different.”
I’m sorry I hurt you
“You didn’t. You don’t have that kind of power over me.” It’s a lie, and what’s worse, I think we both know it.
I’m starting to think you do, though
I see my jaw drop on screen. I quickly pick it back up, hoping he didn’t see the mask fall.
Will you refuse me if I schedule another meeting for lunch tomorrow?
I shake my head. “I wouldn’t, but I’m already booked through the week.” After my month-long vacation, Madam Director insisted I get back into it. Head first, so to speak.
Do you want to keep your other meetings?
I think of the week ahead of me. I think of four different business men sticking their fingers, their tongues, their cocks inside me, and it makes me shudder. “No.”
I’ll take care of it
The call disconnects and “Hush” shows an offline status. I sit staring at the screen for several minutes, then shut it off and eat some of the food laid out for me. No point in letting it go to waste, and I need to eat before I return to the office.
I’m waiting for the elevator at the Nova Corporation when my private cell phone buzzes in my purse. It’s the agency.
“Hello?”
“Callie, this is Amber from Gold Club Staffing. I just wanted to let you know there’s been a couple of changes to your schedule this week.” I hold my breath. “Mr. Hush has booked conference room H for lunch meetings the rest of the week. Will that work for you?”
“That’s fine,” I say, feeling a little lightheaded as I step into the elevator. Is he planning on repeating today’s arrangement for the rest of the week?
“Great. I’ll let him know.”
“Thank you,” I say and ring off. The whoosh of the elevator bringing me to the top floor sucks the remaining air out of my lungs and I blink when the doors open.
Nick is in his office with the door closed when I head for my own office, but I barely have time to put my purse down before the intercom sounds.
“Callie, could you come into my office, please?”
I sigh and head back down the hallway again to knock on his door. I really hope he isn’t going to restrict my lunch hours.
“Yes?” I say as I step inside. Nick is tapping away at his keyboard but gestures for me to take a seat. I sit and wait patiently until he finishes whatever he’s working on, gritting my teeth at the display of superiority. Maybe I’m being oversensitive, but it seems to me he could have finished his work before summoning me.
“As you know, I’m going to Houston tomorrow to speak at a conference there. I thought I’d take a few days to check in with a couple of entrepreneurs I know in the area. I should be back on Sunday, but I need an open ticket and the one you got me isn’t. Could you sort that out with the travel agent, please? Also, make sure my hotel reservation is confirmed for five nights and that the requests I put in for are seen to.”
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s still Nick, Callie.”
“Right.”
“Call me if there’s anything in the mail I need to know about, and I might not be able to check my email, so keep an eye on my inbox and if there’s anything urgent, call me right away. If I don’t answer, send me a text.”
“And what would constitute an urgent email?” I ask, unsure of what he deems important enough to be interrupted for.
“Major financial crisis, changes in my schedule, big investor threatening to pull out of a deal; that sort of thing. And if someone calls for me, tell them I’m tied up in meetings and ask to take a message. If someone with a last name you can see on buildings or billboards calls, patch them through and wait for me to pick up. If I don’t, take a message and text me.”
“Okay. And if a family member calls?”
“They won’t,” he says and turns back towards his computer screen.
I resist the urge to prod. “Will that be all?” I say instead.
“Yes. Thank you.”
I leave Nick’s office, unable to stop thinking about his dismissal. We haven’t talked much about his family, but from what I’ve read, he’s supposedly from a wealthy family, even if they’re not the famous one. Would it be so weird if they called him once in a while? Maybe the relationship is strained for some reason? Speaking of family, Tom and I are supposed to see his parents tonight. I’d almost managed to block it from my mind.
GCS
I sit across from my husband at dinner with his parents and it hits me that I have absolutely no reason to stay married to him. His parents are carrying on as if he’s a high-powered attorney and I’m a glorified secretary and why aren’t we having children yet? It would give my life so much meaning, his mother insists. His brother and sister each have three children, of which one or two are actually pleasant to be around as they mostly sleep.
The doctor dropped the infertility bomb a few years ago, but Tom refuses to tell his parents, choosing instead to subject us both to incessant nagging on the subject. It’s supposedly my body that’s the problem, and I’m still on the Pill to regulate my cycle, meaning there are definitely no babies coming. Oh, the irony if it turned out that it was really Tom who had the issue and that the unprotected sex with Mr. Hush resulted in a long-awaited lovechild. It’s definitely for the best that I stay on the Pill.
I realize with sudden clarity that this will be my future if I continue down this path. I will be
sitting down to dinners with Tom’s parents to have his siblings’ procreative abilities shoved in my face until the day I hit menopause – or the day his parents are six feet under, whichever comes first.
I became too dependent on my husband over the years that he supported me, but I’m earning my own money now. I could walk away. Both our names are on the mortgage, but if we sell the house, we should be debt-free. I could talk to Nick about renting the room at the office until I have enough money to get a place of my own.
“Callie?”
I blink, trying to figure out a) who’s talking, and b) what I’m supposed to respond to. “Mm?”
“I asked what Nick Astor is like,” Tom’s mother says, looking down her nose at me. “Is he going to hire Tom as his lawyer?”
“I don’t know, he doesn’t consult me.”
“But you’re his secretary, surely you-“
“Personal assistant, actually,” I correct her. “And part of my job is to protect Mr. Astor’s privacy, so I can’t really talk about him with you.” I’m not exactly sure that’s in the official job description, but I don’t care. Anything to get her off my back.
She huffs and turns up her nose, then turns her attention to Angelica, Tom’s sister-in-law. I look across the table at Tom and he’s glaring at me. I glare right back.
GCS
“You need to apologize to my mother,” Tom says as soon as we’re in the car.
“Excuse me?”
“You were rude tonight.”
“As opposed to all the nights when she’s rude to me?” I can’t believe him. “You never say anything then.”
“I wish you two would get along.”
“Why? To make dinners with your parents less awkward? How ‘bout telling them they can’t expect grandkids? I’m sick of hearing about it. If having children is that important to you, maybe we should just call it quits now. You could find someone who can give you what you – and your mother – want. We both know I’m never going to be that person.”