All characters in this story are at least eighteen years old if they watch or engage in sexual acts. All sexual acts in this story are consensual. Any description of a character under the age of eighteen is for character development only.
EMPLOYEE TWO
Sometimes life has a plan for you that has nothing to do with the life you envisioned for yourself.
This is my story...
When I was eleven, my dad tragically passed away. It was never fully explained to me, while I was a child, what happened to him. I remember the police showing up at the door just before I was to be in bed that evening. I was in my room getting ready for bed when I saw the headlights of a couple cars pull up to the house. I watched them walk to the door and within minutes, Mom was wailing. I ran out to see what was going on and found my brother already there.
At sixteen, he was nearly the spitting image of our father. He had somewhat long, dark hair that reminded me of a skater or even a surfer despite him being neither. He was neither muscular nor a stick figure of a man. In every respect, he was dismissed as an unambitious person who wouldn't make much of himself.
He was holding Mom as they finished briefly telling them what happened. When I showed up, they quickly stopped talking. Mom had Dylan take me back to bed and he stayed in my room with me. He kept me calm and tried his best to answer my questions as best he could until I fell asleep. When he first began speaking to me, he was monotone and emotionless. He was distant and I knew something affected him beyond my immediate comprehension. He must have noticed my observation and quickly reverted to the caring brother I always knew him to be.
When I woke up in the morning, he was gone, and Mom was sitting on the couch. She was an emotional wreck. When she saw me, she motioned quickly for me to come to her. I didn't know what happened at that point, but I was upset that she was in that state. At the time, she explained that my father had been killed. I asked questions but all she kept telling me was that she didn't know. When I asked where my brother was, she also told me she didn't know.
I wasn't close with my father, but I was upset nonetheless about what happened. I was more upset that my brother left us. He left Mom when she was at her lowest and she left me without a man in my life to protect me. I looked to my dad to keep me safe at home, but my brother looked after me out in the world.
After a few months, things in the house settled down but my brother never returned. Mom told me one day that she suspected he got angry and ran away. Whenever I asked about him, she told me that it seemed he went out to find his own way in the world. I missed him terribly at first. As time went on, I grew to resent him for leaving us. Mom managed to eventually find herself and all her attention was then on me.
She had nothing to worry about with me, though. I was a star student in my first year of high school. My plans would have me graduating a year early and she was so proud of me. Just when I thought my life was headed in the direction that I always wanted it to go, my brother called our house one day. I cried into the phone, sometimes yelling at him, and begging for him to come home. He always told me he couldn't but never told me why. He promised me that he wasn't gone forever, and things needed to be worked out before we could meet again.
He would call occasionally and talk to me, and he would tell me how proud he was of me. I would ask him why he left me, and he'd always change the subject. When I cried and begged for an answer, he told me I was too young to learn about life in that way. I didn't know what he meant but the more he kept saying it, the more I wanted to know what he knew. Regardless, I moved on with my life without him.
Things were going according to plan leading up to my junior year of high school. Mom tried to warn me that I was putting too much on my plate, but I had tunnel vision. I was so set on graduating early that it didn't sink in that an entire year's worth of Advanced Placement and college level courses would be too much for me. She tried explaining that I didn't need all those credits to graduate when I planned. She tried so hard to pull the reins and protect me from my own motivation, but I wasn't having it. Until then, it was always quality over quantity but somewhere between my sophomore and junior years, those wires got crossed.
I ended up dropping out of a single AP class due to imminent failure, but because I needed at least a single credit in that subject, I was forced to move to a less advanced version. It was that series of events which brought me in contact with a boy name Jerry. I had never bothered dating as I made reading and studying my entire world. Jerry was an average kid with average goals. He had no ambition to speak of, either. In every measurable way I could imagine, we should never have gotten together. It was the attention he gave me and the way he showed me off to his friends. My mom and brother were both proud of me because of my intelligence and goals. He was proud of me for everything else.
Despite counseling from Mom and the few friends I had, I continued to date Jerry well into my first year in college. We were both eighteen and as I was walking around on campus, he was moving from class to class still in high school. I was at the community college simply bridging a few gaps before I moved out of state to attend a prestigious university I had been accepted into. They made no requirement for me to obtain extra credits but my guidance counselor in high school suggested them while I wait.
I should not have waited.
I should have ditched Jerry and went straight to the university. Jerry had finally worn me down. Kissing and making out never bothered me. It was when he got roaming hands that I put a stop to things. One night, he said all the right things and I let him skip the roaming hands part and we had sex. For me, it was the first time. I don't think I could say the same for him. I was very much ashamed of myself for letting every moment of that night happen the way it did. It was like we had transported ourselves back to the 1950's. He had me in his car, without a condom and paid no attention to my needs at all. I told him not to finish inside me, but he did anyway. I yelled at him for doing that, but he told me it was next to impossible for me to get pregnant the first time I had sex with someone.
There I was, though, two months later crying in the bathroom staring at a positive pregnancy test.
I practically gave up on all my dreams at that moment. I called Jerry later that night told him I wanted to see him. He happily agreed. As it turned out, he was hoping I had gotten over what he did. We left home after he picked me up in his car and I intended to tell him about him being a father and letting him have me again. I figured there was no harm anymore since the damage had already been done. I was being naïve yet again.
As soon as I pulled the test out, he turned cold. He didn't touch me at all the rest of the evening and hurried everything we did. I recognized his intention to abandon me right away, but I thought I could lure him in if I offered sex. I leaned against the door and opened my shirt, exposing my breasts to him. He looked at me briefly and when he didn't act, I raised my skirt to show him I wasn't wearing panties. Instead of pulling me into the backseat of the car as I grew to genuinely desire in that moment, he started the car and drove me home. I was humiliated.
He dropped me off at home and never called or came by to see me again. When I tried calling him, it seemed his entire household was screening his calls. Mom said I should just give up trying to make him be involved. I knew I disappointed her as well as myself. I felt like I was falling into the rut of teenage pregnancy that plagued the suburbs I lived in. I felt like the grasp I had on my future had all but slipped away.
I would have called that a lesson learned and dealt with life as it were, but I'm not as smart as I once thought. After Clint was born, I met a man. Long story short, I found myself crying in the bathroom of my single-wide trailer nearly a year after I first had sex with him. I hoped maybe that he was better than Jerry, but I had no such luck. He ran away just as fast, and I was left delivering a baby girl seven months later.
I was in my early twenties, only high school educated with two children, struggling to make rent every month and no husband. I learned a lot in school. I just never learned about the real world. I found out Jerry ended up in college and my daughter's father moved overseas. In four short years I went from a plan for a brilliant life to practically being the stereotypical, moo-moo wearing trailer trash mother of two bastards. I never gave up hope completely, though.
I never sunk to drugs or alcohol. I kept my family dressed the best that our money could responsibly afford. I worked the best jobs I could find, only quitting one when the next best opportunity came around. Mom watched the kids while I worked and helped them reach their important milestones. It seems I
did
learn my lesson until I was fired. I was told it was no fault of my own by economic factors dictated that the company could not support the labor force they employed, and decisions came down from the top on who to let go.
I was lost again.
It seemed I was never meant to catch a break in life. I felt myself giving up one evening while visiting Mom when my brother called the house. Mom picked it up and they talked for about as short a time as I ever saw them before handing the phone over to me. I told him everything that was happening and how much I was trying to redeem myself for all the bad choices I made. I needed so bad for him to tell me he was still proud of me. When I didn't get that, I moved to further my personal agenda.
Mom had mentioned once in passing that my brother was running a business. I had dismissed it at the time since I had just gotten into a new job. Since I was at my lowest and I thought nothing was below me at that point, I would ask him about it. My greatest hope was that he could swoop in and save my little family.
"You run a business, don't you?"
I noticed Mom look up at me briefly in surprise but then changed her demeanor when she saw I had my eyes on her as I spoke to my brother.
"I do," he said with some hesitation.
"I'm a hard worker, Dylan. I could be of value to you. Do you have a position there that I could fill?" I ask.
He sighed loudly into the phone and told me in a recognizable tone, "You don't want to work for me, Kacey."
"How do
