Chapter 4

“I’m telling you Joanne, I think I’m anemic or something. I’ve never really been a morning person, but I’ve also never overslept this many days in a row. Plus, my body feels heavy and almost like I partied all night the night before.” Angela didn’t tell her friend about the pain in her “female” parts. Her breasts had been really sore and her nipples raw and her vagina had been dry and aching inside…the way it did after a marathon night of sex. The problem was, Steve was out of town and had been for the past three days. She wasn’t getting any sex…so that led her to wonder what she was doing to herself at night.

“You need to see a doctor,” Joanne told her. “I can refer you to mine if you need one.”

“I called my primary care in Miami and they’re going to make a referral for me here. It’s scaring me enough that I know I have to make an appointment for a physical at least.”

“Well that sucks, I’m sorry you feel this way. And, your man is out of town to boot. When is Steve coming home?”

“Tonight,” she said with real enthusiasm. She’d gone three days without seeing him plenty of times since they started dating, but knowing he was almost three thousand miles away in Boston made her miss him even more. He’d gone out there to secure the rights for his company to build the car that one of NASCAR’s most famous driver’s would drive in the end of the summer race. Last time she’d spoken to him the night before, he told her it was going really well and this morning she’d gotten a text from him telling her he was on his way home. If not for missing him and feeling like crap, it would have been a pretty good week. Kim was out of town and work had been really pleasant without her. “I’m meeting him after work at the Long Beach house. We’re going to barbecue and swim.”

“Hmm…sounds like fun. Is my friend out of town?”

“Ana? She’s in Miami this week on business too.”

“Well then, you two kids don’t do anything up in that big house or that big pool that I wouldn’t do.”

Angela laughed and said, “Is there really anything you wouldn’t do?”

“Hey!” Joanne said in mock indignation, “There are…a few things.”

“I love you. I have to get back to work.”

“I love you too. Can we have lunch this weekend?”

“Yes, how about Spago’s on Saturday around one? I’ll make reservations.”

“Great! Call me if anything too juicy happens before then.”

“I’ll be sure to,” Angela said, still laughing. She hung up the phone and picked up the file in front of her. It was a new client that Kim gave her right before she left on her trip. They were a small boutique publishing company and they had been losing business to the larger companies lately almost to the point of bankruptcy. The business had passed from Grandfather to father to son and now the son was scared to death he was going to lose the family business. They’d come to Kim’s company as a last ditch effort for some marketing that might save them. The son and current CEO, Phillip Dayton, would be by in an hour for a meeting with Angela. She pressed the intercom button and said, “Marg, is the conference room ready for my meeting?”

“Yes Angela, it’s ready to go. I just put the fresh coffee in there and you have a platter of pastries. I hooked up the laptop to the overhead and the slides you worked on all week are in there as well.”

“You are awesome,” Angela said with a smile.

“That’s what my husband tells me,” she said with a chuckle.

Angela took care of some other minor paperwork until Marg buzzed and told her Mr. Dayton was here. She’d already shown him into the conference room. Angela met him there. “Mr. Dayton, I’m Angela Black. I’m so happy you could make it.”

Phillip Dayton was about forty years old. He was one of those non-descript kind of guys, slightly balding and with a bit of a paunch. He wore a tan polyester suit and had small, round spectacles perched on his nose. He in no way looked like a multi-millionaire…and he seemed to be a nervous wreck to boot. He held out his hand and said, “I’m happy to meet you, I hope you can help me.” Angela took his trembling, slightly sweaty hand and shook it. She offered him a seat and a pastry and coffee. He took the coffee but declined the pastry, “The wife has me on a diet,” he said with a smile. Angela thought he was considerably more attractive when he smiled.

“Okay,” she said. “I asked you when we talked on the phone if you’d ever thought about having a writing contest.”

“Yes, and I told you we haven’t. Do you think that’s something we may benefit from?”

“I actually do,” she said. “I’ve done a ton of research and I have some statistics for you. I’d like to show you just a few,” she said, as she pulled her power-point presentation up. She hit the start button and the first slide came up. That one just said her name and what the study was. She clicked on the next one. That one showed a list of independent publishers, the contests that they’ve held over the past 24 months, and the profit they’d made from that contest. She’d gotten most of the information herself, but when she ran across a company that was more tight-lipped, Marg stepped in to help. That woman could charm information out of a terror suspect. As Phillip considered those numbers, Angela clicked to the next slide. She was looking away, searching through a pile of paperwork on the table in front of her when she pressed the next button and immediately heard Mr. Dayton take in a sharp breath. She looked up at the screen…and saw risqué pictures of…herself? She was dressed in a sexy little silk and lace one-piece jumper. It couldn’t be her; she’d never taken photos like that. The woman was lying back on top of a white comforter in one photo with her legs spread lewdly open. Her hair was hanging down over her face so you couldn’t see her features, but the rest of the woman…looked just like her. The other picture next to it was of the woman sitting backwards in a chair that looked a lot like the one in her bedroom at home. She had her legs open again and in that one she was leaning forward and the camera captured what was down in the front of her lingerie.

“Oh Jesus!” She flipped to the next slide just trying to get that one off the screen. There was another slide of the woman and this time she was in the midst of giving a blow job. A hand that came off of one of the muscular, veiny arms had reached down in the front of her romper and she could see that he was playing with the woman’s tits. She pushed the off button and reluctantly looked at Mr. Dayton. He had a pained expression on his face as he pushed up out of the chair and said, “I’m sorry Miss Black, but I don’t think your company is for me.”

“Mr. Dayton…that’s not me! Please! I don’t know how this happened…”

“Thank you for your time.” He rushed out and Angela was left shocked and anxious and confused. What the hell just happened? She reluctantly flipped through a few more of the slides. It looked like her. She had bought that same little outfit not long before Blake got sick and she’d worn it on one of their anniversary cruises…but she hadn’t worn it since. She even had those shoes…she jokingly referred to them as her “hooker heels” and she only wore them when she and Blake were both feeling randy. She’d seen the shoes in her closet recently. She remembered because she thought about listing some things she never wore on ETSY for sale. The shoes were one of the things she’d considered. The outfit, she hadn’t see in ages…Feeling sick, she emailed the photos to herself and then deleted the slides. Grabbing her things she went out and told Marg she was sick and would be out the rest of the day. Bless her heart, Marg knew something was going on, but she didn’t ask her to explain. She said she’d take care of everything and Angela knew that she would.

**

When Angela got back to the loft she went straight to her bedroom and began pulling everything out of her drawers. She went through the dresser first…the little suit wasn’t there. Then she went to the nightstand to the right of her bed. Nothing was there but stockings and underwear. She pulled open the top drawer of the one to the left then…the suit lay on top. She picked it up and brought it to her face. It smelled like laundry soap and fabric softener. Jesus Christ…what is happening? She clutched the lingerie to her chest and lay over on the bed. Her head was spinning…she didn’t feel well…Her phone was ringing. She looked at the face of it and saw it was Kim. Shit! This day just keeps getting worse. She took a deep breath and let her finger slide across the face.

“Hi Kim.”

“Angela? Marg said you went home ill. Is everything okay?”

“I just don’t feel well…”

“How did the meeting with Peter Dayton go?”

Angela didn’t know what to say. Did she tell Kim what happened? Could she get away with telling her he’d decided to go with another company but not why? “Um…” she heard her voice crack. “It didn’t go well, Kim…”

“That’s what he said. I understand why you’re feeling ill. As you well know, I’ve taken a few of those kinds of photos myself…the question is, why are you showing them to a client?”

“Kim, I swear, I didn’t take those photos…”

“I’d like to believe you, Angela, but those were posed photographs….”

“Wait! You saw them? I deleted them! How did you see them?”

“This is a company server, Angela. I have to make sure my employees aren’t doing things on their computers beyond my control that could get me in trouble. Anything deleted goes through IT before it’s wiped from the server. They emailed me a copy.”

“Oh Jesus! I have to go Kim! I’m going to be sick!” Angela tossed the phone down and ran into the bathroom. She barely made it to her knees before her lunch came up into the toilet. She sat there and vomited and cried for at least an hour. When she pushed herself up to her feet, she was shaking so hard that she could barely support herself. As she was washing her face, her phone rang a text message notification. She finished what she was doing and went out to see who it was from. It was from Kim and it said, “Be in my office at nine a.m. tomorrow. Don’t be late.” Once again, she had to get sick.