The Personal Assistant (4 page)

My sex is throbbing with a mixture of, 'Let's-go-again,' and 'Back-away-internal-trauma-here.'

My head whirls with thoughts of romance and love and a need to repeat this activity with Caleb on a regular basis.

Until I remember the ball, which we are going to be late for.

"Crap, aren't you going to get into trouble? What time is it?"

A fine layer of sweat makes the best of his torso in this early evening light.

"Oops."

Wearing only a lazy smile, he stares at me lying naked next to him and strokes my legs from ankle to the damp sore sex at their meeting point, as one might a pet. "It’s a crying shame, but I think your pussy could use a time-out."

The truth is, he's right;, Caleb is a big man.

The way he's acting tells me he knows the effect his size has on women and he’s conscious of it, too.

"A rest couldn't hurt I guess, but you might want to stop stroking her." Reciprocating his lazy smile I add, "Otherwise, we're going nowhere tonight."

"Ah, yes." Raising a brow he stops stroking me and asks, "So, how long will you need?"

Empowered and a little brave, I say seductively, "For?"

My fingers twist my nipples and I toss my head back, play acting masturbation.

"Stop it, you bad girl." He laughs softly and stands up to manipulate his cock, which is getting hard again. "How long do you need to get ready for the ball?

Enjoying my effect on him, I snigger and sit up.

"Well, if you stop bothering me I'll be ready in…twenty minutes? I could do with another quick wash now, before I start messing with hair and makeup."

"Wanna share my shower?" He winks and I can tell if we get ready in his room together, we'll never make it out of the house.

Now there's an awesome thought.

"Think I'd better go back to my room. All my stuff's there anyway, and if I see you rubbing soap over your body, things will get steamy in more than one way."

"You, my girl, are insatiable."

He leans down to kiss me and offers me his hand, which I use to pull myself up off the bed.

After our explosive climax, my legs are still a little shaky.

"And here I was thinking you are such a good girl."

"Hey!" Grabbing one of his solid butt cheeks I grin, "Good girls enjoy sex too, you know."

I blush, worrying he might think I sleep around, or that this wasn't the most special experience of my life, so I add, "However rarely we might choose to do it."

He smiles and kisses the tip of my nose, "So fucking cute."

Dragging myself from his intoxicating presence, I grab the dress bag and run downstairs to get ready for a ball in less time than I'd take to get ready for market.

I've made love to Caleb. Caleb's made love to me.

And now I'm going to a ball.

Did I fall from reality into a fairy tale without realizing?

Caleb knocks at my door in twenty minutes exactly.

"Ready? The car's waiting and we're already ten minutes late."

The reflection in the mirror says my hair’s a little frizzy and I could do with more makeup, but I'm as good as I can be for the time taken.

"Okay, coming."

“I thought you already did that…” I can hear the smile in his voice.

When I open the door, he's holding up a pair of Jimmy Choos to match the incredible gold Gucci ball gown he gave me, which is both slinky and floor-length.

"Forgot to bring these for you, so the driver just dropped them in. Here, put them on. We have to go."

"They're lovely."

I've been trying so hard to be cool, but the nerves in my stomach and the tears pricking the back of my eyes betray me.

"I don't know what to say, this is all so overwhelming, Caleb." I kick my black pumps off into my room and step into my new shoes, one foot after another. "Wow, it's awesome up here. Hope I don't faint from too much oxygen."

He laughs, "You are…beautiful, by the way." He stares and takes in every inch of me, "I mean, wow, Em. Just wow."

A little bashful from the compliment, I offer him my elbow, "Thanks, you are as handsome as ever. You may need to hold me up until I get used to these towering heels. Deal?"

"Try and stop me."

The drive there is brief, smooth, and we sip champagne in the back of the limo.

Not sure I like it much, but I say nothing.

"This is an…interesting way to start a night out," I say, and sneeze when the bubbles go up my nose.

Caleb sniggers, "You're adorable, you know?"

When we pull up, the driver walks around to let us out.

There are photographers and crowds of people waiting to see who the billionaire Caleb Hawksley will have on his arm.

Fear hits me and my throat constricts, "Oh crap, what am I doing here? We'll be all over the papers tomorrow."

Caleb frowns, "They're looking for headlines and you're it. Be a mystery for an evening. When they finally figure out who you are, it won't matter."

"Won't it?"

"Trust me?" He holds out his hand.

Putting my palm against his, I inhale lungs of air hoping it will calm me down.

It doesn't.

"Of course I trust you. It's them I don't trust."

We leave the limo and the flashes go off all around me, people scream Caleb's name, asking, "Who's your date?" and "Who's the lucky lady?"

"Keep your head high, back straight." He whispers in my ear, before kissing my neck. "Don't let them see you're nervous. They love to see blood."

My heels don't help, but I throw back my shoulders and smile at the cameras as Caleb and I walk gracefully, hand in hand, to the Gala Ball. The red carpet has been rolled out and the media are behind a rope as we walk up the middle. I feel glamorous and wanted. Like a movie star from the fifties.

When the sounds of shouting and the flashing of cameras are behind us, I exhale.

"How do you deal with such an invasion of privacy everywhere?" I whisper to him.

"I’ve never known any different," Caleb glimpses me, and I swear there's sadness in those big blue eyes of his. "Anonymity and wealth are incompatible."

I squeeze his hand, "Let's go and enjoy ourselves. Screw them."

"Hey, potty mouth."

I bite my lip, “Oops."

As we enter the building, I see that the Gala Ball is everything I imagined it to be.

Large, grand, flashy and over the top.

It is too perfect.

The men and women are flawless. They are all dressed to perfection in their tailored suits, custom-made designer dresses and shiny jewelry.

I feel out of place.

I don’t belong here.

I am just a housekeeper. Just a worker.

I don’t belong here with the mega-rich and ultra-famous. These are not my people. My people are laughing, chatting casually at my local Chinese takeaway.

And I doubt I’ll find any sweet and sour chicken dishes here.

Caleb turns to me, “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” I lie. “Why do you ask?”

“Your mouth has dropped open wide.”

“This mouth is wide enough to fit something else, too,” I reply cheekily.

He kisses me, "And this mouth is far too splendid to resist."

The kiss is soft, and his blur gaze penetrating.

I need not to think filthy thoughts, and he's not helping. "Is there food? Think I've worked up quite an appetite."

He whispers, "Makes two of us, bad girl."

He spots the food area and bar and pulls me in its direction.

Once there, he seats me at a table, "I'll fetch us a few nibbles and some drinks. Don't move."

Grateful to be off my feet, I nod in reply and observe how his cute butt cheeks move in his tux pants.

Left alone in this amazing place, I don’t know what to do.

I don’t know how to sit, or behave, or even look.

So, I just stare at the table in front of me and listen to the action around me.

At the opposite table, there are five perfect women all in their early twenties. Too perfect. Too amazing. They could all be models walking down the catwalks of a Victoria Secret show.

All of the women look like they have never worked a day in their life… and never plan to either.

While staring at their perfection, one of them looks my way and we make eye contact.

Damn.

Quickly, I look back down at the table.

Please don’t talk about me.

Please…

"Who the hell is she?" snarls one of them, clearly talking about me.

"Don't know, but she's only my standin," a stunning brunette says. "I told him to go screw himself yesterday; I won't be second best for anyone."

Are the perfect people talking about me? I'm a standin?

She turned him down?

Does she mean
my
Caleb?

"You turned Caleb Hawksley down? Are you insane?"

Damn.

I am a standin. Just a fill-in for Caleb.

Just another girl to fill his time.

Just his entertainment.

Damn.

Reality hits me hard…

"Some guys need taking down a peg or two. He'll be back; he loves this sweet ass," The perfect women all laugh hysterically. "My replacement over there is probably a hooker wearing Gucci. He probably just picked up her up off the street, Pretty Woman style."

"How do you know it's a Gucci…?" asks the blonde-haired woman.

"The same dress is hanging in my closet; it's this season, darling. Love those shoes though. Of course, they're all brand new. Probably the most expensive clothes she has ever worn. The poor whore even left the labels on."

They laugh behind their hands now, noticing me looking and listening to them.

Did Caleb so love this dress on his real date, he had to dress me like her?

My throat swells as I stare at Caleb's back, who is oblivious to my humiliation while laughing with a man at the bar. This is too much.

I'm a joke.

Caleb doesn't really want me here.

His date let him down and I'm an easy standin. I’m just here so he doesn’t look lonely. I am a standin. A piece of meat.

No… what about what we did earlier?

It meant something to him too, didn't it?

Did I make something huge out of nothing?

Another blonde arrives, takes a seat next to Caleb's ex, and gushes, "Demi, I overheard Caleb telling Paul who he's here with. You will never guess…"

"Then don't make me," Demi insists.

The bitch has attitude and I know how Caleb loves attitude.

He loves mine.

"Quit stalling, who is she?" she snaps.

"She's his twenty-one year old housekeeper. Grew up together, by the sounds of it. Can you believe him? Bless, he dressed her up and brought her to an event like this. This is a big deal for someone like her."

They all stare at me for a minute or so, examining the poor girl, before they turn away to continue talking about me as if I can't hear or am somehow impervious to what they're saying.

"Aw, he's such a love, Demi," says the first blonde-haired woman. "Better hope you haven't lost him for good this time."

"Lose him to whom? Ha, Cinderella over there?"

Cinderella?!

Is that what I am?

They stare, knowing I'm listening, and their collective and cumulative laughter soon sounds like a roar.

I look at Caleb and he is too busy laughing at the bar. Why can’t he be here and defend me?

Oh, who am I kidding? He won’t defend me. I’m just a fill-in. Just another girl.

It’s too much. I can’t stand this any longer.

I have to get out of here.

Two fistfuls of dress to raise the hem of my dress, I march away as fast as I can, wearing ridiculous five-inch heels.

All with them squealing at my back and makeup running down my cheeks.

The longest minute later, I re-enter the lion's den outside and the cameras flash in my face.

"Leave me alone!" I scream, running to my right through the crowd of onlookers, down several blocks to Caleb's penthouse.

On the way, I throw the Jimmy Choo's over a hedge.

My fairy-tale was incredible while it lasted, but it didn't last long enough…

Unwilling to be home when Caleb returns with a triumphant Demi on his arm, I decide to pack a bag and stay over at Betty's for the night.

She's a close friend, and I trust her to take me in, listen to me gripe, and not sell the story to the highest bidder.

When you work for a billionaire, friends you can trust are paramount.

I chose mine wisely.

After the quick trip to Betty's, I tell her all about what happened between us.

About how Caleb came home annoyed yesterday, then determined to make love to me the following evening.

How I thought he'd finally seen me and liked what he saw.

I thought he wanted to take me to the ball because he wanted to thank me, and maybe even because he enjoyed my company. How wrong I was.

I tell her how I discovered the truth because of the humiliating conversation at my expense. I can’t help the tears running down my tears.

Caleb only chose me because he had no time to find another standin. I was just a token girl. Another one. I thought I was special but I wasn’t even close to being special.

Betty seethes, pacing the room. "Bastard! Bitches!"

"Hey, come sit with me. You're making me motion-sick."

She slumps next to me, but fidgets on her couch, scowling. "Why would Demi dump him when from what you've said, she clearly still wants him?"

"Who cares about Demi? I don't know how rich folks’ minds work."

"They all play games with people like us—we're dispensable."

Memories flash through my mind of the incredible sex, of the intimacy I thought we shared, of having to dress up in clothes I wasn't comfortable in and sip bubbly drinks I didn't like—for what?

The storm of tears I'd been suppressing burst through.

"I'm just a figure of fun to the lot of them, aren't I?"

"Hey, I don't believe for a minute Caleb intended to hurt you, sweetie. You guys have been close for too long. I bet there's been some kind of mistake. You'll go back to work tomorrow and he'll tell you as much. As for those bitches, don't waste your time thinking about their kind of nothing. They think they’re rich, but they have nothing of value. Nothing."

I try to smile, "You're a good friend, Betty, but I think we both know if it came down to a choice between the beautiful Demi and well… me, he's going to choose her. It is what it is. Any man would choose that perfect body over mine. I can’t compete with that. It was like she walked straight out of a magazine."

“She might look good but she has nothing on your personality. Any girl that thinks they are better than someone else is not worth the time.”

“Caleb obviously sees something in her.”

“Men can be blinded by their cocks. They think with their hard-ons sometimes. He’ll realize the truth. They always do. No man would put up with that all time. Why would they?”

“Because she gives good blow-jobs?” I try to laugh.

“Ha!” Betty laughs. “I bet she does. But that must be all.”

I sigh deeply, “I am so stupid. How did I even think that it was real? Of course it wasn’t. I am so dumb. I should have known better, Betty. This is all my own fault. I am so stupid for believing in that stupid fantasy.”

“You are not dumb or stupid, and this is not your fault. This is
his
fault. He might not have meant anything bad by it, but he should have known better. This has nothing to do with you. You are a beautiful, charming, happy person with an
amazing
personality. If someone can’t accept that, it is their loss.”

“Thanks Betty. You are the best,” I smile through my teary face as she rubs my back.

“You’re the best. You always have been. You are too nice sometimes, Em. You know what I would have done.”

“I know exactly what you would have done, Betty,” I smile.

“I would have walked over there, grabbed them by their perfect locks of hair, and slammed their heads into the table. And then I would say something witty like; ‘You want to play
ball
. Let’s play ball, bitch…’ Which is a reference to the ‘Gala Ball’ in case you don’t get it.”

“You wouldn’t have even talked to them first?” I laugh loudly.

“Nope. No way. No time for talking. If someone wants to treat me like that, I’ll smash their heads into the table. They would think twice about doing it again, wouldn’t they?”

I laugh, “Yes they would!”

“But Em…”

“Yes?”

“Listen… maybe it’s time to move on.”

“Move on?”

Betty shrugs, “You clearly have had a crush on this man for so long. All through high school, he was all you could about. Maybe… it’s time to let that go? Maybe it’s time to move on?”

She’s right.

I know she’s right.

But I don’t know if I want to.

Betty hugs me, and lets me cry in her arms for some time before I need to blow my nose.

"Time for bed," I say. "I’ve kept you up late enough. Besides, I'd like to start work early tomorrow, preferably while he's either still out of the house, or at least still asleep behind a closed door. I don't think I can bear to see his face."

“You’re still going to work tomorrow?”

“It’s my job.”

"That’s fine for now, I guess," Betty ruffles my hair. "But you can't avoid him forever though, remember. You shouldn't have to."

I don't want to avoid him.

I want him to let me love him. I have adored him for so long.

I thought we wanted the same thing for a few glorious hours.

I thought all my dreams had come true.

How wrong can a person get?

"Yeah, I know. This is what I get for screwing my boss. I'm such a cliché."

“Maybe you should call in sick?”

“No. That would just make it worse. I’ll go in and just pretend nothing happened.”

“Will that work?”

“Let’s hope so…”