Author's note: Desperate Measures is an anthology consisting of stories related by theme, rather than by character, chronology, or storyline. Accordingly, they can be read in any order, as each installment is a stand-alone entry.
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Elizabeth Simmons was on the verge of surrendering to despair when The Entertainment and Technology Group, Inc., offered her a job. The offer was for much less than she was seeking, but–due to her complete lack of a previous employment history–she had no choice but to accept the offer. Her husband, Mitchell, was not happy when Elizabeth first started looking for work, but he held his tongue when she landed an interview. He even offered tepid encouragement when she was called in for a second meeting. Encouragement turned to bitterness, however, when she was offered the job.
"Look, honey, I'm only taking this job until you get back on your feet," she said as she pulled on her stockings. "You'll find something soon. I know you will. You're a good man."
"What they're going to pay you is hardly worth your time," Mitchell replied. "You would be more productive helping me around the house."
"Mitchell, we've gone over this already. There's no point in both of us being home all day. One of us has to start working before your unemployment benefits run out."
"I agree. I should be the one out there looking for work."
"You've been looking for over a year and you haven't found anything. Your benefits are about to run out, and we need some money coming into this house. We have bills to pay–or did you forget?"
"So this is all my fault?"
"I didn't say that. It's not anyone's fault. It just is what it is. We need money, and I can help. Now please, let me finish getting dressed. I don't want to be late on my first day."
Mitchell put on his robe and left the bedroom. After pouring himself a cup of coffee, he assumed his usual position in front of the computer. He did not even wait for Elizabeth to leave the house before he pulled up his favorite porn sites.
"I'm leaving now, wish me luck," Elizabeth called as she opened the door to the garage.
"What time can I expect you home?"
"I don't know, it's my first day. I'm supposed to get off at five, but I was told I will have to stay late on occasion. I want to make a good impression, so I'll probably stay at least until six. See you tonight."
Elizabeth fought back tears as she backed out of the driveway. The last two years had taken a heavy toll on her marriage.
Has it only been two years? God, it seems like a lifetime ago since we were happy.
It was a twenty minute drive into the city. Elizabeth drove through the quiet suburban streets, doing her best to avoid school buses and school zones. Her two children were in high school, but they did not ride a school bus. Instead, they drove together in her son's used Honda Civic.
How much longer can we keep all three cars? Two of them are paid off, but the insurance!
Elizabeth never used to worry about finances. Her husband was a good provider, and they resisted the temptation to live beyond their means. They lived in a modest house in a nice suburb, drove practical cars, took reasonable vacations, and overall lived a lifestyle that appeared frugal when compared to the lavish excesses some of their friends enjoyed.
When Mitchell's salary was "temporarily" reduced by twenty percent, the family was able to tighten their belts and get by on less. For six months they skipped their annual vacation, stopped eating in restaurants, rented videos instead of going to the movies, and otherwise managed to live in nearly the same manner as they had for the previous ten years. But after six months Mitchell was converted from salary to hourly employment, and his hours were cut in half. At that point the family began to experience substantial changes in their lifestyle.
Mitchell suffered through a mild depression when his salary was cut, but he tried very hard to hold it all inside and present a steady face to his family. Only Elizabeth saw the tension that marked Mitchell's face when he let down the facade in the privacy of their bedroom. Their sex life started to suffer during that period, as well. Their love-making became less tender. Mitchell became less concerned about pleasing Elizabeth, and after a while her responses became mechanical.
It came as no surprise to Elizabeth that her home life deteriorated further when Mitchell was converted from a salaried position to hourly employment. He left home every morning in a foul mood, and returned every evening in a worse disposition. Everyone noticed, but no one could speak to Mitchell about it. Elizabeth tried, but Mitchell internalized all his frustration. By that time sex had become a burden for Elizabeth. After all, sex was free, and it served as Mitchell's only outlet for his frustrations. Their weekly encounter was always the same: ten minutes of hurried, doggy-style sex, then he pulled out, grabbed Elizabeth by her hair, and shot his load in her face. After Mitchell rolled off and went to sleep, Elizabeth reached under the pillow for her mini-vibrator so that she could finish herself off in silence.
Mitchell's company folded six months later. Within days, Elizabeth's life became a living hell. Unemployment benefits and savings kept the family afloat, but week after week of searching for a job and finding nothing left Mitchell feeling completely morose. The family hit rock bottom. Everyone walked around the house on pins and needles. The kids spent as little time there as possible, and Elizabeth jumped at any opportunity to get out of the house for any reason–real or contrived. Mitchell spent most of his time on the couch watching television, or locked in the office in front of the computer. Sex became an individual event. Mitchell shuttered himself in the office and jacked off daily, while Elizabeth resorted to extended time in the shower to take care of her needs.
He has the entire house to himself now. He'll probably pull his dick off by the time I get home.
Elizabeth pulled into the visitor's parking lot twenty minutes early and exited her vehicle. She entered the front door of the office building and stopped at the receptionist's desk.
"Good morning, I'm Elizabeth Simmons. I'm starting here today."
"Hello, Miss Simmons," the perky young blonde answered. "I have a message that you are to go up and see Mrs. Walker. She's Mr. Callahan's secretary. Do you know where that is?"
"Twelfth floor?"
"Yes. Take this elevator, and when you get off, go to your left. It's the last door. Just go in, she's waiting for you."
Damn, I wanted to be waiting at my desk before anyone else showed up. I guess they get started early around here.
Elizabeth followed the receptionist's directions to the twelfth floor. She paused outside Mrs. Walker's office and knocked.
"Come in."
Elizabeth twisted the door handle and entered. She was greeted by an attractive woman with blonde hair and a stunning figure. She appeared to be in her early thirties.
"I'm Colleen Walker," the woman said, extending a hand. "You must be Miss Simmons."
"Mrs. Simmons, actually. You can call me Elizabeth–or Liz–whichever you prefer."
"Why thank you, Liz. You can call me Colleen."
"Pleased to meet you, Colleen."
"Mr. Callahan won't be here for another hour. He had to stop at one of the other offices on his way in this morning. I'm supposed to show you around and get you set up. Would you like some coffee before we get started? You're going to need to know where the coffee machine is located, anyway. Mr. Callahan takes his black, by the way."
"Show me the way."
"Have you ever been a personal assistant before?"
"I've never worked before. This is my first job since I was a waitress in college."
"Oh my. That must have been..."
"A long time ago. Almost twenty years, actually."
"You're joking. I thought you must be younger than me."
"I'm forty-one."
"You can't be. You look incredible."
"Why thank you, Colleen. I'm flattered. The last two years have been very stressful for me, and I have put on some weight. I think I look much older than my age."
"Oh stop it, Liz. You're gorgeous. You're going to fit in very well around here. I can tell."
Over the next hour Colleen showed Liz around the office and helped set up her desk. An IT tech came by and showed her how to use the computer and the telephone system. He also activated a cell phone and gave her a security badge. By the time the tech was finished, Colleen was calling to request Liz's presence in Mr. Callahan's office.
Elizabeth touched up her make-up, smoothed her dress, and walked to the office at the end of the hall. She paused outside the door, reached for the handle, then stopped to knock before entering. Hearing no response, she knocked a second time, then poked her head through the door.
"Sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Callahan. Did you want to see me?"
"Come in, Liz. Close the door and have a seat."
Elizabeth entered the spacious office and closed the door behind her. As she walked across the black granite floor toward Mr. Callahan's desk, her eyes were drawn to the various photos, plaques and paintings that decorated the walls: a photo of Mr. Callahan shaking hands with the governor; a photo of Mr. Callahan standing on a dock next to an enormous blue marlin; an award from the police department for sponsoring a youth basketball league; a framed, autographed football jersey; a painting of a pride of lions on a moonlit savannah, to name a few. The decor reflected power and success.
"First of all, Liz, welcome aboard. We are very happy that you joined our family."
"Thank you, sir. I'm happy to be here."
"Has Colleen shown you around the office?"
"Yes, briefly."
"Good. Let me tell you a little bit more about your responsibilities. As I explained to you in your second interview, the title "personal assistant" is really a catch-all for a number of jobs that need to be performed around here. It is better for me to have one person doing several unrelated jobs on a full-time basis, rather than hiring several part-time employees to do the same work.
"Your first and primary responsibility will be to handle my appointments. Colleen will help you, at first, but it will be your job to control my calendar. I will tell you who I need to see and where we should meet, and you are responsible to make sure it happens. If I have to go out of town, then you will make all the travel arrangements. If someone is coming here, you make sure that person gets here, on time. Any questions?"
"No, sir. None so far."
"Good. Your second responsibility is to help Colleen with any typing or document production that needs to be done. That is Colleen's primary responsibility, but if she gets backed up or is out sick, then you are to step in and help out. Everything we do here is time-sensitive. If something does not go out on time, then both Colleen and you will be held responsible. Do you understand what I am saying?"
"Yes, sir, of course. You are telling me that if Colleen can't do her job, then I have to make sure it gets done."
