Elsie

I put my hand on the reception door, ready to open it but pause, stand up straight and adjust the thong I put on on a whim this morning. That was before I realized what sort of morning I was going to have.

When I phoned the doctor back, my mind was preoccupied with Xander. They had a cancellation first thing this morning and I took it without really listening to what it was, other than the fact that it was yet more tests.

When I turned up at nine, I learned it was a lumbar puncture. Joy. I laid on my side in the fetal position as they poked and prodded my spine to get a spinal fluid sample. I don’t know what it will tell them, inflammation levels I guess.

Luckily, I was able to distract myself from the ordeal by thinking about Xander. His lips on mine, his arms around me, his impressive hardness digging into me.

Turns out even having my spine probed isn’t enough to take me down from last night’s high. I’m probably the only person who has ever had a lumbar puncture in a state of arousal.

It was far and away the best night of my life. And unlike the media’s claims about him being a sex maniac, Xander was a perfect gentleman.

If anything, I wish things had gone farther. Which is ridiculously out of character for me, even with my pledge of having more fun, but my body wanted one thing. In hindsight I’m glad things didn’t go further because I don’t want to have any regrets. Besides, it leaves something to look forward to.

Assuming we do still have dinner together tonight.

Which is why I put on a thong this morning, just in case. Although I probably should’ve waited until after work to put it on, given the way it keeps wrenching itself up my butt.

I push open the door and walk across the vacant lobby. Cynthia stands behind the desk, a scowl on her face, as she watches me through her narrowed eyes. I am really late.

“Elsie, nice of you to join us today,” Cynthia says as I reach the desk.

“I’m really sorry, I had a doctor’s appointment and I didn’t realize how long it was going to take.”

“You’re three hours late. You could’ve had open heart surgery in that amount of time,” she says with a snarl.

“Yes, I thought it was a simple test, but they made me stay for two hours after it was done. I’m really sorry, I can make up the hours.” In order to make sure my spinal fluid didn’t leak, I had to lie flat on my back for two hours in a little room with four white walls and pretend that the place they probed me with the giant needle didn’t hurt.

At least I feel completely fine now, apparently because I laid flat on my back. I think I could actually do an aerobics class right now.

Without dropping her scowl she says, “I had a lot of work to do this morning, I couldn’t afford to lose three hours covering the desk. Do not let it happen again.” Nice, she doesn’t have any concern for me whatsoever. Which is fine, I don’t expect people to. Why should they? But that’s one of the reasons I don’t like to talk about all this stuff — this is my personal cross to bear. I don’t want to be that person with the sob story. The one who’s defined by their problems and nothing else. I’m determined to be promoted to manager soon. I’d much rather focus on that.

Even if it does make me an ostrich burying my head in the sand.

“It won’t happen again, I guarantee it.”

Nathan was supposed to be working this morning, and I wonder why Cynthia had to cover the desk since he is here.

Hurrying around the desk, I drop my bag and kick it underneath the counter with my foot. Cynthia huffs and turns away. She marches across the tiles, her shoes clicking, to her office door. With any luck she’ll get transferred somewhere soon. Preferably Alaska.

I debate calling Xander’s room but chicken out. I don’t want to seem like a desperate, star-struck person.

“There she is,” Nathan says, twirling his finger pointing at me as he rounds the corner from the elevators. “Cynthia is pissed off at you.”

“I know. She was here waiting for me when I got here.”

“Where on earth were you? You’re never late.”

“A doctor’s appointment this morning took way longer than I thought. But I wasn’t too concerned because I thought you were here, so I didn’t think there’d be an issue.”

“That’s because you didn’t know Miss Cynthia has been on the rampage for the past two days. First, she made me do all that useless crap yesterday for some report or another and then today she’s actually made me survey the guests. Because guests like nothing more than being disturbed to answer stupid, pointless questions.”

I immediately ask, “Did you survey Xander?”

“I tried, but he didn’t answer his door for me,” Nathan says with an exaggerated frown. “But he did phone down here for you earlier, while I was still at the desk. I told him you hadn’t turned up for work yet.”

“Really? He phoned looking for me?” I say in disbelief.

“He did indeed. So, what happened last night? Tell me. Every. Thing.”

“We ate pizza and talked until after two,” I say with a massive grin.

“Talked?” he says, making quotation marks with his fingers.

“Yes, talked. And he may have kissed me, but that’s it.”

“Oh my God I am so jelly! That is unfucking real.”

“It didn’t feel like it, everything felt really normal and natural between us.”

“And the reason he’s here? Did he happened to mention it?” he says, looking at me sideways.

“We did discuss it, yes and it’s all,” I start to say made up but remember my promise to keep it a secret and stop myself. “Exaggerated. There’s going to be more coming out today that will make everything clear, we just have to wait and see.”

“As long as you are okay with that, darling.”

“Absolutely,” I say, turning my head for effect.

The television in the middle catches my eye. Xander’s picture fills the screen with Breaking News written across the bottom. There is no volume, only subtitles and my eyes flick across it, eager to read everything. My heart races as I wait for Luna to appear on screen and retract the stories.

Nathan notices where I’m looking and stands beside me, watching the screen.

We have a breaking news story. In another twist, the Xander Whitman sex scandal has taken a new turn. He hasn’t been seen for a day, but we now know that he is hiding in a New Jersey hotel with this unnamed woman, giving credence to Luna Grosvenor’s story about him being a sex addict.

My face fills the screen and my heart stops. Slowly the camera pans out, revealing a photograph of me wearing the red corset and bent over with my cleavage on full display, my head thrown back and my hair disheveled. Behind me, Xander stands in the hotel room doorway, his eyes fixed firmly on my butt.

Already feeling fuzzy from seeing my supposedly private boudoir photo on TV, my knee buckles. Fortunately, Nathan flings an arm around me and props me up. He drags the stool across the floor and places it behind me. I perch on it but don’t let go of him.

“Yes, Nancy,” the male newscaster says. “Most people in hiding from a sex story would not shack up in a hotel with yet another woman.”

“Agreed, Phil. And one has to wonder what his girlfriend Luna Grosvenor makes of all this,” the bleached blonde newscaster says.

“Well, according to her allegations, this is all par for the course.”

“Very true. Which begs the question, why on earth is she still with him?”

“I imagine many men are wondering what his secret is,” Phil says, looking far too much like he’s believing what he’s saying.

“I guess you get away with things when you’re the world’s sexiest man.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Nathan asks.

“I have no clue. I guess Becca went over the photos last night, realized who he was and gave them to the media.” I’ve never felt so betrayed in all my life. She has no right to share those photos with anyone. They were my secret, just for me. And now everyone I’ve ever met, everyone I ever will meet, is going to see it thanks to the internet. Can you be promoted to manager with a photo like that of you online?

Not to mention the fact that I’m now wrapped up in this infamous sex story. When, really, I have nothing to do with it.

Or do I?

After all, last night I was more than willing to sleep with Xander, and here I am today standing here in a thong for him.

But Becca doesn’t know any of that. She probably looked at the picture and saw dollar signs. I’ll bet any money she sold it. Something she had no right to do.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath trying to calm my speeding heart. Nathan rubs my back and I try to calm down. Not easy when I’m already feeling anxious for the spinal tap results and upset from Cynthia’s telling off.

The front desk phone rings and I jump.

“Front desk, how can I help you?” Nathan says into the receiver. There is a pause and he says, “Yes, she is, sir.”

I open my eyes, and Nathan’s holding the phone out to me. Putting it to my ear, I say, “Yes, Elsie speaking.”

“Elsie, you finally came to work,” Xander says.

“My appointment this morning took longer than I thought it would,” I say on reflex.

“Well, now that you’re here, there is a problem with my TV and I need you to come up and help me with it,” Xander says, his voice is flat and impossible to read.

Does he know about the breaking news story with my photograph?