Chapter 2

Ruby

I close Mr. Fentress’s door to muffle the sound of his girlfriend, Candi’s, powerful moans as he fucks her right there on his desk.

I roll my eyes before answering the phone with a cordial “hello”, only to be shrieked at by Mrs. Fentress, demanding to know her husband’s whereabouts.

I used to feel so nervous of her calls when I first started. I thought it was so immoral of Mr. Fentress to make me lie for him. But, now that we’ve had countless discussions about what a “harlot” I must be—despite my virginity still in my pocket—I’ve come to find that Mrs. Fentress is just as well off not knowing the truth.

But don’t get me wrong; she’s not the one in the wrong here. If he wasn’t always off banging some girl—and the list of names grows weekly—the missus and I might not be butting heads so frequently.

Honestly, it’s a time like right now, as Mrs. Fentress is chastising me over the phone, that I wish I was Candi back there, getting railed to her heart’s content by a hot, carefree, and rich lawyer in the comfort of his office.

But after just a couple of weeks of working for Mr. Fentress, he’s not the hot guy I’m wanting—not in a million years. He’s greasier than a fucking fast food fryer, and he’s the biggest douchebag I’ve ever met.

It took me a minute to catch on to his “proposals,” but once I did, I never saw him in the same light. After the fourth time he complimented my panty line, I grew a back bone and fired back at him.

Unfortunate for me, now he just thinks I’m playing hard to get.

When his little soundtrack becomes too much, I sit and close my eyes, imagining someone—a man that only exists in my own head—placing his hands on my tits and squeezing them as he makes out with me. He’ll force my legs open and grind his hard cock against my dripping panties right here at my desk, leaning over me, and holding me down against my office chair.

“Mrs. Fentress, I’m going to have to let you go. I’m getting a call on one of his pressing cases right now…I’ll have him call as soon as he returns…Yep. Yes, I won’t forget…Mrs. Fentress, I need to go.”

It takes four different ways of saying goodbye before I can actually hang up every time she calls. Six months of practice means I’ve gotten it down to a science.

Just as I end the call, I hear loud screams coming from his office. They must be finishing their meeting. It’s almost three o’ clock.

I sigh as I shake my computer’s mouse along the mouse pad to wake the machine back up.

I would be lying if I said I didn’t fantasize about losing my virginity to Mr. Fentress for a short period of time, but it’s happily more of a passing, super dirty thought than a dream. While he’s an attractive man on the outside, I’ve had it in my sights to love the man I lose my V-card to. And Mr. Fentress just is not the caring guy I want to make that memory with—not by a long shot.

In fact, the thought of it now makes me gag in my mouth. What a fucking slime ball.

It’s just so hard to work here. Day in, day out, listening to the two of them going to town at least once a day…God...not to mention Bridgett, Svetlana, and Irene, who all come by once or twice a week to get theirs.

As I get logged into the computer, Mr. Fentress opens his office door. Candi struts out in a loose-hipped, I-just-got-fucked walk, in her Christian Lou Boutins. Mr. Fentress follows her, giving her a generous smack on the ass as he sees her off.

“Goodbye, beautiful. See you tomorrow,” he says, giving her a full kiss on the mouth before closing the door between them. “What a woman.”

“She sure is, sir,” I mutter, facetiously. “I do have a message for you when you’re ready for it.”

“Go ahead, Ruby. I’m listening,” he says, adjusting his tie in the mirror hanging in my office.

“Mrs. Fentress was on the phone a few moments ago and demanded a call. I told her you were in a business lunch, and you would return it at your earliest convenience,” I divulge.

“Ah, the missus. Thank you, Ruby. I’ll be in my office, speaking with her. Do you need anything from me before I do? Perhaps a more personal show of my gratitude?” he proposes.

I keep my head low, hiding behind my monitor and rolling my eyes. I put on my fakest smile before pulling my head up.

“Oh, my, Mr. Fentress. You are quite the entertainer,” I return. “But, no, thank you. I have a few files to finish up before my vacation. Don’t forget, I am leaving at three fifteen today and won’t be back until Tuesday.”

“Ah, right. What a shame. I won’t be leaving to that gorgeous smile today. That radiant face makes me get through the weekend, little miss,” he continues to push.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll make it through somehow,” I kid back. “I think I’ll be just fine, though. I’m inputting these last few files, and making my great escape.”

“Well, alright, Ms. Watson. I’ll be in my office if you need me. Please, don’t hesitate to come see me for anything.”

Fucking gross.

As he walks into his office and closes the door, I grab a case file. Three to go. I open it, but I can’t really concentrate on what I’m typing; I’m too busy thinking about the vacation.

I haven’t been to the lake house in years. In fact, that was our last family trip at all. My brother, Jake, and I went out on a canoe with his best friend, Wyatt—shit, Wyatt actually swam me to shore since I didn’t know how to swim.

Gosh, just thinking about that trip gives me goosebumps. I don’t think Jake ever knew, but I had the biggest, most ridiculous crush on Wyatt. And after Wyatt pulled me from the lake, I found out he had one on me, too, and we shared our one and only kiss when he pretended to give me CPR along the lakeside.

That moment ignited something fierce inside me. It made me decide, then and there, that Wyatt would be my first. But with Wyatt just having enlisted and getting sent off, I never got my chance.

In my moment of reminiscing, I realize I have my old vacation journal packed in my suitcase. I finish typing the first case file, not even sure that I’ve done it all correctly. I jam the other two in my desk’s drawer and walk over to the hall closet in the lobby.

I grab my suitcase for vacation and set it next to me, unzipping it quietly and casually to fish out the small broken-spined book. I feel around, get a hold of it and pull it out.

I zip my luggage back up and open the journal to the middle, aiming for the last vacation we had. I skim, still looking for where the last trip began, pretending to finish my work, as Mr. Fentress calms his aggressive, suspicious wife over the phone in the next room.

As I flip the pages, I hear small attempts to comfort her like “Baby, listen,” and “Oh, honey.” It’s actually pretty comical when you’re not the one on the other line.

And I find it. Our last trip to the lake house.

I keep an ear out as I take myself back down memory lane, my thoughts and feelings about Wyatt Lawrence on display before me.

My heart races as I begin reading.