Life Before Damaged, Volume 4

by H. M. Ward

  “Hmmm. And your... fiancé is working on this too?” She’s talking away as if we were at a leisurely luncheon. Well, I guess, technically we are but this is Mrs. Ferro. She doesn’t do leisure. And now she’s asking me about my relationship status.

  “Boyfriend. We’re not engaged. And yes, he’s my father’s medical advisor and collaborator.”

  She hums again, not saying anything else. She twists back on her chair and reaches for something in her purse. It’s a brown manila envelope that she places in front of her and taps her fingernails on it.

  “Miss Granz, I have a proposition for you. I believe you could do so much more than what you are doing right now with Granz Textiles. We have several positions open within Ferro Corp that could use someone with your current level of training. I can guarantee that your input will be valued and your position will be respected. I doubt you are getting that from being under your father’s thumb?”

  She pushes the envelope towards me and I hesitate to take it.

  “It’s only paper, Miss Granz. Job descriptions of available positions within Ferro Corp and our sister companies. Take a good look and think it over. You have all the names and contact information in there.”

  Wary, I take the envelope and look into it but don’t remove its contents. True to her word, pages and pages of job description files and application forms are in it. I admit that my dad can be a tad domineering and overbearing but he is family and I simply can’t turn my back on that.

  “Thank you for the offer Mrs. Ferro but I’m not going to leave the family company. My place is there, in whatever way that may be for the moment.” I hand the envelope back to her, knowing full well that she’ll insist that I keep the documents and think it over but she doesn’t. She takes the envelope back and stuffs it in her purse.

  “I like your determination and your courage. There aren’t a lot of people that would have the balls, pardon the expression, to turn me down. The offer still stands. Should you reconsider, don’t hesitate to contact me. It’s been a pleasure to see you again, Miss Granz.”

  “Likewise.” Lie. Seeing Mrs. Ferro is anything but a pleasure.

  She gets up from her seat, grabs her purse and makes her way down the stairs, leaving me alone at the table with lunch for two barely touched. What the hell was that?

  MISSION: SEDUCTION

  August 9th, 2:51pm

  Can’t make it tonight. Working double shift into the night. I have tomorrow off. I’ll see you then. Sorry!

  I’ve been staring at the text message on my phone for the past 10 minutes, wondering what to do and how to respond. This was supposed to be our chance to spice things up between us and he can’t make it. I shouldn’t be upset with him, it’s his career and he needs to do this but I’m getting a taste of what it’s going to be like to be a doctor’s wife and it’s a very bitter taste. I’ll always be left on the back burner, his patients coming first. If I can’t deal with this now after only a couple of months, how will I be able to deal with it later, after a couple of years? At least by then, we’ll be living together and I’ll get to see him when he comes home from work. He can wake me up in the middle of the night and...

  That’s it! An idea starts to form in my mind and I pick up the phone on my desk. The phone rings twice before the person on the other line picks up.

  “Hey, Regina. How can I help you?”

  “Hey, Charlotte. I’m taking the afternoon off. Can you change the message on my voicemail accordingly and transfer any urgent calls to my cell? Oh, and I’ll need your advice on something. Do you have a moment to come and see me?” My fingers are twirling the telephone cord, untwisting and twisting it as I talk. I can’t suppress my grin. This is going to be awesomazing!

  “Sure! Be right there.” We hang up and I start packing my things up for the day, stuffing everything into my briefcase. There’s no way I’ll be able to concentrate on work anymore anyways, so why even bother pretending. I’m a woman on a mission to seduction and Charlotte is the perfect resource person to help me out.

  A couple hours later, I’m ready to head out to Anthony’s apartment. I’ve been thoroughly exfoliated, waxed, manicured, pedicured, smoky-eyed and my hair is styled in loose ringlets piled up in a strategic messy pile on top of my head, held back by a single clip that is easy to remove for that dramatic, provocative effect.

  My skin is glowing from top to bottom thanks to that shimmery lotion that was slathered all over my body. Charlotte is a wealth of information as to what gets a man’s heart thumping or rather how to get the butterflies in his dick fluttering, as she put it. She even had a copy of Cosmo stashed in her desk with an article on scents to turn your man on. It’s fascinating how many of those scents have to do with food. I drew the line at cheese pizza though. There is no way I’m going to smell like a one-dollar slice from the corner pizza place.

  So now I have my vanilla perfume dabbed on various pulse and pleasure points, smelling edible in all the right places. I have both lavender and pumpkin pie candles stashed in my bag. Yep! Apparently, according to Cosmo, this is a winning combo to get his blood flowing down there. Who knew? The plan is to light up the candles before he comes home and he’ll be instantly hit with erection-inducing scents. Hey, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

  Charlotte also supplied me with the names of her favorite stores for lingerie and other sexy paraphernalia. It’s safe to say I was shocked at some of the things out there. Seriously, do people really do all of that stuff?

  Taking one last look in the mirror, I don’t recognize the woman in front of me. She looks like a movie star, ready to do a steamy love scene. My pink satin corset with black lace trim and ribbons does wonders to my figure. The push-up feature has my timid girls smooshed up against each other and they are actually touching! I have a trench! The matching string bikini panties barely hide anything at all, they are cut so low. Coupled with some black thigh highs that are clipped to the corset with garters, the look is perfect. It’s cute and delicate yet assertive and sexy. It’s a look that screams, “I love you now fuck me.” If he turns me down tonight, looking like this, I may have to question his sexual orientation.

  I slip on a black wrap dress that will be easy to slip off when the time is right. Grabbing my raincoat, I slip it on. I grab my overnight bag with my change of clothes for tomorrow as well as all the other little goodies I bought for tonight. Slipping on the sexiest pair of black stiletto pumps I have, I’m ready.

  By the time I make it outside, our driver is already waiting for me at the door, umbrella in hand. It’s been raining buckets since dinner with violent winds and thunder and lightning. It’s a perfect summer storm, perfect for a night of heated passion. I lift up the hood of my raincoat, careful not to mess up my hair, and the driver escorts me to the car. Once we’re both seated we head off towards Anthony’s.

  I don’t have a key to his apartment and he’s not home from the hospital yet, but getting into the building is easy. His neighbor is a lovely retired widow who loves making him homemade cookies. Anthony reminds her a lot of her own son at that age and she has decided to spoil him rotten. She’s invited us over for tea on so many occasions, that I don’t have any trouble convincing her to let me in. The lobby has that smell of damp carpet and old ashtray and, on occasion, urine. The complex is in an impoverished part of town. It suits Anthony’s needs for the moment, but I know he can’t wait to move out and get something nicer.

  I walk up the two stories to get to his apartment and gently knock on his neighbor’s door. She’s waiting for me with the extra key to Anthony’s apartment. I blush when she looks me over, like she knows what high heels, sheer stockings and a trench coat mean. Plus, I have the sultry hair and make-up going on, it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. Her eyes give off a look of melancholy, like she’s remembering sexy, romantic times from years long gone. It’s just another reminder that I have to make the most of each moment and make as many memories for myself as possible while I’m st
ill young. Pete is right, I have to embrace my youth but it won’t be with him. It will be with the man I love.

  After thanking her for the key, I pull the straps to my overnight bag higher on my shoulder and head towards his door. As usual, I can hear the TV playing inside. He always leaves it on to deter thieves from breaking in. I unlock the door and push it open, making sure his cat doesn’t escape. Anthony is a cat person, which is kind of cute. I manage to make it in and close the door before Mr. Pussy makes a run for it. I scratch him behind the ears and he starts to purr, rubbing his head against my legs.

  I have a couple of hours ahead of me before he comes back home so I’ll have time to set everything up. Between the candles, Charlotte’s playlist of sex inspiring songs, the lingerie, the wine, the perfume, the hair, the makeup... I think I’ve got all the bases covered. Oh! I’m forgetting one thing: the breadcrumbing! Charlotte said to send him various suggestive texts messages, kind of like a trail of sexy crumbs, throughout the evening. Drive him crazy at work so that he’ll rush back home to devour me. As soon as I get into his apartment, I pull out my cell and type in my first message of the evening.

  Hey baby! I miss you. There’s a surprise waiting for you in your bed ;-)

  There! I press send and start thinking of the second message, dropping my phone back in my bag. Not a second goes by before I hear a ring tone in the kitchen. I make my way to see what the noise is and my heart drops. His cell is on the table. He must have forgotten it. I put the key to his apartment on the table and pick up his cell. My little message lights up the screen. Well, so much for getting him in the mood from a distance. I guess the best thing I can do now is set up the place for his arrival.

  FUCKING FELINES

  August 9th, 7:04pm

  I walk down the short hall that leads to his bedroom when I start to hear strange noises coming from behind the closed door to his room. It’s like someone overexerting themselves, exhaling heavily and grunting. Panic starts to take over at the idea of a thief breaking into the apartment through his bedroom window. That fire escape has always freaked me out. I drop my bag on the floor and remove my shoes, taking one in my hand, heel side out. If it’s a thief, there is no way I can make a run for it in those suckers and they can be pretty good to poke an eye out if I need to.

  I’m about to take another step closer when I hear Anthony’s voice clearly say, “Fuck yes. That’s a good Kitty! Purr! God, I love it when you do that. Purr with my dick in your mouth again. That’s it! Oh, fuck, yes! Purr!” His voice is mixed with grunts and heavy breathing.

  At this point, my imagination is going wild with images that are way too disturbing to describe. But I did hear him and he’s here. He’s not at work at all and he’s saying very crude and sexual things. Things he’s never said around me. Things I wish he’d say to me. Dear God! I hope he’s watching porn and I hope it’s the human kind! I take the remaining steps and open the door just a crack. My heart is pounding in my ears and my hands are trembling but I have to make sure that it’s not what I think it is.

  My world and my future shatter in an instant. Anthony is on the bed, lying on his back, naked and propped up on his elbows, looking down at the woman who’s with him. She has long, jet black hair and it doesn’t take me too long to recognize her. It’s our waitress from the restaurant. The one he’d been innocently flirting with. She’s on her hands and knees with Anthony’s very erect dick in her mouth. The woman is naked too, except that she is wearing a headband with little grey cat ears and... OH MY GOD! I need to bleach my eyes. Is that a cat tail sticking out of her ass? My brain is malfunctioning, it has to be. I don’t see a waistband holding that tail in place, which must mean that the tail is really coming out of her...

  Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit! She has a cat tail butt plug?

  Even after I close my eyes, the entire scene is still there, forever burnt in my brain. Her head bobbing up and down along his length, the look of pleasure on his face, his sounds of ecstasy and her... purring. I can’t bring myself to say anything. How can he do this to me? The betrayal is too much to handle and I feel myself crumbling to pieces. His grunting is getting louder and louder and he keeps saying things, dirty things that I’ve been wanting to hear him say, but he’s not saying them to me. He’s saying them to… Kitty!

  I think I’m going to throw up. I can’t face him. I need to leave. They haven’t seen or heard me yet so I back up slowly, pick up my things and bolt out of the apartment. Just as I open the door, I stop. Anthony is grunting faster and louder and it’s clear that he’s just reached his climax and it just breaks my heart. Mr. Pussy manages to escape this time, but I don’t try to get him back into the apartment. Cat person my ass! Or, her ass! Or... Ugh! I don’t care if they hear me. I slam the door and run, shoes in one hand, bag in the other and fragments of my broken heart scattered on his floor.

  I don’t bother to call my chauffeur because by the time it would take him to get here, I’d be soaked through to the bone in this downpour. Besides, I don’t want to give Anthony time to catch up with me. I put on my shoes, secure the hood of my raincoat over my head and I hail a cab. Once seated inside, I tell him where I want to go and rest my head against the cool glass window. It’s only now that I realize that tears are running down my cheeks, mixed in with the rain.

  He cheated on me. All those words about innocent flirting and how it was okay. He wasn’t trying to ease my guilt, he was trying to ease his own. All those times he refused to do anything remotely erotic or sensual with me, it’s not because he didn’t like it. He never desired me at all. I wasn’t good enough for him either. Whatever self-confidence I had, crumbles into oblivion and I’m faced with a question that just goes unanswered: What’s wrong with me?

  My phone vibrates in my bag. It’s him. He knows that I know.

  FAILURE'S A BITCH

  August 9th, 8:20pm

  The entire cab ride, my phone blows up with text messages, incoming calls and voicemail alerts until I finally decide to turn the damn thing off. I can’t deal with his guilt, not right now. Oh God! How do I explain this to Dad? And what will it mean to the company? Betrayal cuts deep and I feel like I’ve been rammed in the gut with a wrecking ball. Where did I go wrong? I must have done something to push him towards that other woman, but I can’t figure out what I did.

  Too many things have happened lately and so much is at stake. The fire, the injured people, betraying my parents, my near-death experience, Anthony’s betrayal, Pete. My mind is going around in circles madly as I try to make sense of everything. This is my life. My second chance. What am I going to do with it now? I have no boyfriend, no future fiancé, and no future husband. I have a father who doesn’t give me the professional respect I deserve. I have a job that I can barely tolerate. I have a body that is clearly undesirable to men. And I have dancing, my one ray of light in the dark.

  The rear windows of the cab steam up with the moisture from the rain and the summer heat. Little drops of water make their way down the window like tears, very similar to my own. With a finger, I follow the trail they leave behind, lost in my own broken thoughts. The cab stops, and it’s only when the driver calls back to me with the total, that I realize that we’re here. I swipe my card in the machine, take my things and exit. Rain is still coming down in sheets so I run as fast as I can towards the door.

  Walking into the club, the band’s music is blaring and people are laughing and dancing and having a grand old time. This is a special night. Ricky only has a live band on rare occasions and every time, it draws a huge crowd.

  People around me are cheering but right now, even smiling seems painful to me. If I try, my face might crack. Every part of me feels exposed and put on display like I have a huge neon sign above my head blinking the word “Failure” for all to see. I wonder if anyone can tell what happened by looking at me. I wonder if they are laughing behind my back, thinking about the poor silly little girl who wasn’t good enough to satisfy her man.

  I pus
h my way to the bar and find the first available stool. Ricky is working the bar, dressed up in his 40’s gangster digs and flirting away with the female clientele as usual. The familiarity of the sight is somewhat comforting. After taking his client’s money and putting it away, he scans the bar for his next customer. That’s when he sees me. That’s when he gives me the look. It’s the look that you don’t want to get when you’re trying to be strong. It’s the look of pity. My bottom lip starts to tremble and I melt into a puddle of sobs, right there in the middle of the swing club.

  Before I know it, hands are on my shoulders, turning me around and taking me into a hug. I recognize the cologne and slump into the embrace. I rest my head on Ricky’s shoulder, hoping I don’t get his white shirt stained with makeup. The seats around me have freed up because no one wants to be around the crying chick.

  “Hey, doll. What’s the matter?”

  I shake my head. I can’t talk about it. It’s too embarrassing.

  “Erin’s talking with people from an art gallery tonight so she’s not here, but I can call her and have her pick you up when she’s done. Come have a seat in my office for a while, okay?”

  If I go to his office, he’ll want to talk and I just can’t do it. The wounds are still too fresh and I just want to stop thinking for a while. Maybe coming here was a mistake but this is the only place that has brought me any real kind of joy in the past month. It’s been my escape from reality and I was hoping that it would help me forget.