She tufted at her ginger fringe before giving a sensual pout to the mirror. An hour at the salon that morning left her with a high ponytail and bangs that took five years off of her. She couldn't help but smile, the finest feathering of wrinkles against her freckled skin belied her three decades on this Earth. Hmph. That won't do. But it was nothing a bit of women's dark alchemy couldn't fix.
Emily reached for her cosmetics case. She needed to be perfect; it was an important day after all. She gave one last flutter of her long and dark eyelashes in the mirror before opening her case. She batted aside a few brushes before finding what she wanted and set herself to completing her work of art. She paused with a giggle at her moment of narcissism. But it was a nervous laugh, trying to ease away her fear and tension.
As she finally packed away her case, her brow furrowed at the familiar thrum coming from outside. Brian's ancient Corolla finally spluttered out its tired engine on the driveway. She checked her watch. He was much earlier than she had anticipated. It wasn't a problem though, she was ready ahead of schedule and he always stopped to have a smoke outside. She quickly pulled on a button-up white blouse and a dark knee-length skirt. It was all business, covering up the muslin-thin black panties and bra underneath. That was all slut.
She made her way to the front door to greet her husband, opening it just as he dragged himself up the steps to the porch. His shoulders were slumped, his face as pale as milk. That wasn't unusual, but it just seemed especially pronounced today. Brian looked up at her with dejected eyes and flounder for a moment, unable to take another step.
"Honey? What's wrong? Why are you home so early?"
"Em, I uh. I'm sorry Em. I got...I got fired today."
A smile tried to waver into existence on Emily's face, but failed, "Well, happy fifth anniversary to you too. What happened?"
Brian look around at nothing in particular in the street before turning back to Emily, "I don't know. That work I was doing last night, that was a really important bit of code for this contract we have. We had. And uh, a big chunk of it disappeared."
"I don't understand."
"Neither do I." Brian at last stepped up to the door, barely registering his wife's sultry appearance, "Not just on the flash drive, but all the backups too. We lost the contract. Jake said it was my fault. It was one mistake too many."
"No...no...I've met Jake. He wouldn't be so harsh. He's not like that."
Brian gave Emily a dejected hug before wondering in to the house, almost as if in a dream, "You spoke to him for five minutes at Christmas party. Jake...Jake's exactly like that. His way or the highway. I'm...I'm going to have a few drinks. Brandy is still behind the cookbooks, right?"
Emily's fear and tension from earlier seemed nothing like what was growing in her heart now, but she slapped on the sternest face she could muster, "No! I mean...yes it is. But I'm not going to let this happen! We've barely started paying back the mortgage on this house! We're trying to start a family." She followed him through to the living room where he was slumped in a recliner with the brandy in one hand.
"We've been trying for three years. I think...I think there's a reality we need to face there." He took a big swing from the bottle. Emily ignored his comment.
"It's never a good time to lose a job. But this is the worst. Businesses are closing up all over town. I'm going to go talk with Jake. There's nothing to lose and everything to gain, right?"
#
Emily gripped the Corolla's steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. She took a deep breath and released her hands, stretching out her fingers. She stared at her sanguine nail polish. She gave another giggle. Her fingers were shaking. At last she found the mettle to open the car door, but it took her another moment to step out and look at the imposing building.
Situated at the end of a long concrete pathway in a perfectly kept emerald green lawn was the campus of Zenith Solutions, Brian's former workplace. A sprawling seven-structure indulgence of the much too wealthy owner, Jake Carlyle. Emily scrunched up her mouth. It was going to be a long walk to his office, and even longer one back to the car.
She made her way to his office, guided by her experience of a drunken office party in December. An office party she would swear that more than one person had taken advantage of her state and gave her generous D-cups some manual exploration. It took all of her willpower to smother the smile that crept on her lips at the hazy memory. Not all of her body was so easily controlled though. On many occasions since that night she found her toes curling in excitement at the recollection of it all. Brian was
not
getting fired.
It was fifteen minutes into lunch, and the offices were near deserted. The few Sisyphean souls still at their desks were glued to their screens, and didn't notice the fiery haired crumpet walking through their fluorescent-lit halls. Soon enough she came to the doorway to the assistant's foyer. The assistant was, like everyone else, fixated on the computer screen. Emily hesitated, she hadn't thought what she might say to this gatekeeper. She stepped back from the open doorway and puzzled about it for a moment, but it seemed to be her lucky day. The assistant soon breezed passed her, nose stuck in a folder and had disappeared down the hallway.
Emily made her move. As quickly and quietly as she could in her very impractical black high heels, she crossed the foyer and opened the door to Jake's office. Without thinking, her eyes were lowered as she crossed the threshold.
She slowly raised her eyes along the maroon carpet, soft and thick as lambswool. The office, spacious enough to house a dozen staff, was dominated by great, dark mahogany desk, littered with a few papers. A person could comfortably lay upon it and have room to roll around. Behind the desk was the man himself, seated in a plush black leather chair, as tall and broad as he was.
His eyes were on her from the moment she stepped inside. Hazel brown and sharp and cold as a hawk's. His black hair, peppered with a few white streaks, was coiffed in a slightly ragged side parting. His short, neat beard cut along the sharp edges of his lantern jaw. Emily's own eyes hung on his perfectly tailored suit. Black as midnight, it hugged his form tightly, rounding over his solidly built muscles.
"You do not have an appointment." His jaw muscles flinched in annoyance. His voice was as hard as stone. Her knees suddenly felt weak.
"No, Jake...Mister Carlyle..."
"If you do not have an appointment then you do not have permission to enter."
"Y-you fired my husband this morning." Her voice faltered to a whisper. His eyes bored into her, his silvery pen whipping about in his fingers.
"Sit." He indicated to a small and uncomfortable looking seat with his pen. Annoyance dripping from every word. Emily scuttled over with her head bowed and obediently sat down, hands clasped in her lap. His eyes never left her, they barely seemed to blink. She cringed at his stare, suddenly feeling awfully helpless. She knew what was just underneath her business attire. Her feet were wobbly and vulnerable in such high-heeled shoes, shoes she had not had practice wearing since the anniversary last year. "Your husband, at his best, is an adequate programmer."
