*****This was written at the request of one of my readers. I hope the rest of you enjoy it. Most of all, I hope my reader enjoys it*****
Don't commit the crime if you can't do the time. That was something Stella's mother always told her. Perhaps, if Stella had paid attention to that lesson, Stella wouldn't be squatting in four hundred dollar shoes, and a three hundred dollar suit, in a mop closet with a filthy cock in her mouth. This was not the career path she had imagined.
Stella was a powerful woman. She was a wealthy woman. She was successful. One could argue that she remains all those things except one. True, her money was untouched, and her position in the company remained secure. What she lacked was the power. It's hard to have power when responding to the beck and call of the janitor.
Rising to the top in her company was not easy. Stella had to be ruthless and cunning. She was cut throat. She threw anyone she viewed as weaker under the bus. She climbed the corporate ladder in a mere ten years.
Sitting at the top came with a lot of freedom and a lot of responsibility. There was a lifestyle Stella had to maintain so that her company would remain relevant and respectable. So, of course, Stella had to find other ways to financially sustain herself to be the picture of the successful, powerful woman.
So, yes, Stella skimmed a little. It wasn't a lot. What's a few thousand to a successful company in a booming industry? Auditors thought it was a bigger deal than Stella. So began Stella's late nights at work shredding documents to eliminate her paper trail.
Thinking she was smart, Stella didn't trust this task to some menial intern or office assistant. No. Stella handled this herself. She wouldn't let some idiot with a grudge sell her up a river. There are times when she was fixing her makeup after deep throating; she wondered if that would have been better than what happened.
It started like any other night. Stella chatted with the CEO and a board member as they walked out. She explained she needed to work on fine tuning some accounts receivable. She lamented how Shirley was late again on submitting her reports. Good old Shirley never turned anything on time. She was an excellent scapegoat.
The men laughed and applauded her devotion to her work. Once the office was empty, Stella got to work. She grabbed a few files and to the shredding room. She struggled, every night, with the bag so that her documents would be separate from the everyday business documents.
That night, the bag was particularly full. Apparently, the interns didn't want to change it and wanted it to be the janitor's problem. Stella, in her Gucci shoes and her tailored Burberry suit, fought with the thin plastic bag, ripping it in her attempts to get it out of the basin without confetti flying everywhere.
"A bit late for you suit types to be here ain't it?" The male voice startled her.
The thin plastic shredded between her manicured fingers and drops of paper spilled out. Stella spun to see the lanky janitor in his navy jumpsuit. "You scared me!" She scolded with her hand over her heart.
He cocked his head with a half-smile. "I don't often see someone trying to do my job."
Stella smoothed her hair and straightened her silk blouse. "It just didn't seem right to leave it so full." She lied.
The janitor traced his finger over the stack of thick folders she had left on a filing cabinet. "Yeah, yet it gets like that pretty often. About three times a week I'd say."
Stella's steely grey eyes landed on his hand. She tried to appear calm while her heart pounded in her chest. He wouldn't know at what he was looking. "Try to do a good deed," She plastered a fake smile and stepped away from the bag of shredded papers spilling onto the floor. "and this is how the world repairs me."
The clack of her heels on the marble floor seemed louder as she took a few steps toward the janitor. The top folder flipped open. Stella stopped. He wouldn't know at what he was looking. She told herself again.
The janitor whistled. "Whoo." His expression switched to sinister as he flipped the pages. "Seems to be the world has paid you quite well." He nodded as more papers turned.
Stella rushed her steps and slammed the folder shut. "I don't know what you are talking about." She grabbed the stack and hugged them to her chest.
The janitor filled the doorframe. She had no way of getting out. She swallowed with the realization. Her eyes darted around looking for a second escape option.
"See, I think you do. I have been noticing your late nights." The janitor commented nonchalantly. His arms spread and her escape route was officially blocked off. Any hope of sneaking past him between his side and the door frame was effectively squelched. "It got me wondering what a suit like you would do here so late and why always in the shredder room."
Stella regarded him skeptically and stepped back from him. "Some high priority documents needed shredding. They are so old-"
"Yeah see that's the thing," The janitor interrupted her and waved a finger at her. "They ain't that old, a few years maybe. From what I can tell, documents that young they go in storage somewhere. You see, I know this cause I'm the one who contacts the storage company when you suits box up your important papers."
Stella's lips tightened.
The janitor rested his hand near his crotch. "I ain't no fancy mathematician, but I'm pretty good with a computer." He explained.
Stella's eyes drifted to his hand. He groped himself. It turned her stomach. She looked away.
"What I learned was that account number there on those papers is yours. I ain't a genius but I been around a long while. I recognize embezzlement when I see it."
Stella's head whipped around toward him. Had her chestnut hair not be perfectly styled and tightly pinned, it would have moved.
