This is my story and is also published elsewhere.
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Friday night was supposed to be reserved for Rhea's husband. She promised that she would be at Andaz by 8pm, but she was still on the 68th floor of her law firm. Rhea wasn't a named partner...yet. Understandably to achieve her dream of becoming named partner, some sacrifices had to be made...right? As Rhea finalised her case, knowing she had to be at the restaurant, she took herself to the copy room. There were no paralegals hanging around at this time of night, and on a Friday night? No chance!
Sliding on her Louboutins, Rhea exited her office and headed towards the her final obstacle of the night. Scanning and Printing. Hailed as one of the 'up and coming lawyers' in Los Angeles she knew her way around a court of law, but a photocopy machine? Ha! Whilst walking around the horse shoe office, Rhea checked herself out in the mirrored glass as she walked past the ghostly office. Her long, tanned legs were accentuated by her 6 inch heels, her hips swayed with power and determination. Sometimes she liked to add an extra oomph into her walk so she could feel like a runway model. Her small pencil skirt barely stretched over her hips and ass.
Standing in-front of her CEO's office, which was shrouded in darkness. That bastard went home early, despite having a big meeting on Monday. Rhea looked at herself in the glass, pushing her breasts up and unbuttoning a couple buttons. Scrunched up her hair and hitched her skirt an inch higher. Later, Rhea would add a deep red lipstick and a little mascara for her husband.
***
How does this bastard thing work? she wondered. Pressing every single button nonsensically, Rhea had almost given up hope. I suppose the scanning and printing could wait till Monday? Rhea was about to leave the copy room until she heard footsteps. With absolute certainty, she was sure that she was the only person left on the floor. Thinking it must be security, she decided to continue her tirade on the copy machine.
"What the fuck is going on?" her soft tone was masked with frustration. Still pressing buttons.
Looking out of the room, she could hear the faint footsteps again, but couldn't see anyone. She nestled herself back into the room and found the 'scan' button and pressed it excitedly. Thank you! she thought. Five copies of legal jargon appeared through the other end. Rhea gave herself a mental high-five. After the excitement subsided, Rhea felt the same deep footsteps come closer. She froze. Security would usually walk around once and then take the stairs down to patrol the rest of the building.
"You're still here? Didn't the husband need feeding?" A rich voice broke through Rhea's fear.
Footsteps seemed to enter the room, as Rhea's back was still turned to the door. Should she turn around to entertain this voice? Rhea decided to confront her own shadow. Why the fuck should I cower? She knew exactly who was standing behind her. It was her boss, the same asshole who dangled the Partner role in her face like she was a rabbit begging for a carrot.
"It's none of your concern, what I have planned after I leave. Devon, why are you still here? Your office light was off. Shouldn't you be out playing with your Victoria Secret models?" Rhea's voice was tight, and her soft, usually melodic voice was now sharp.
Devon was your usual six foot, seven inches of athletic fantasy. He had started as a line backer for the Rams. After a damaging injury to his lower back, Devon went back to school to get his Law degree. He built Chopra & Williams. Devon Chopra was the first named partner, as he built the elite Law firm from the ground up. The firm's focus was active in sport management and all things related to the legalities surrounding the sporting world. Safe to say, Devon chose a lane and that lane led him down a road that was vast and bountiful. Hence why, Rhea wanted a piece of it. She had worked extremely hard for the firm for 8 years and deserved a Partner role.
"Oh Rhea, always so jealous of how I play. I told you to join me, but you don't know how to have fun," his voice was velvet.
Deep and rich and reminded her of a Rioja she was dying to down...with her husband.
"Devon, I have no time for this. I need to print the football contracts for Monday. So you can take all my glory when you present it to Chelsea FC," Rhea said.
Rhea moved to leave the print room. Fuck the printing. I am getting out of here.
"Rhea, tell me, are you still supporting your 'artist' husband?"
Devon leaned against the door frame of the copy room. He had removed his tie and his all-black suit was broken-up by his muscly chest which displayed his angel tattoos. His long hair was tied-up into a ponytail.
Devon's face lit up. He knew what he was doing. Getting a rise out of Rhea was his favourite pass time, especially because he knew that her husband was a good for nothing cheat; who took her for granted. Why did she stay with him? He would wonder. However as the years passed between them they would bicker and brawl over silly little things. Of course he wanted Rhea to be a named partner, however whilst she was with her husband, he couldn't. Why? Because he would take her for half and then some, once he found something or someone that would treat him better. What a silly bastard, no one could treat him better than Rhea; and Devon knew that.
"You know Rhea, I don't think he's waiting for you anymore," his smirk now turned into a frown. His tanned skin crinkling on the forehead. His beard accentuating the brown in his eyes.
"How would you know that? Are you a psychic?" Rhea retorted.
"No, but I have eyes everywhere. Your husband is currently sitting and...sniffing your PA." Devon reached for his phone from his inner pocket and showed Rhea a picture of her husband with Lysette, her PA.
