Hi, my name is Madison West, I’m twenty-three and I just graduated from NYU with a degree in marketing. Contrary to popular belief, having a degree in marketing does not mean you will easily find a job in said career field. I’ve been out of school since June, and it’s now the end of August and I’m still stuck working as a barista at the same coffee shop that I’ve worked at my entire time at NYU. I live a crummy one bedroom apartment in the Bronx and my best friend Dee is currently crashing on my couch because she and her girlfriend broke up for the tenth time, but at least she contributes toward the rent. She’s been staying with me for two months, and it’s starting to feel increasingly more cramped since she’s slowly accumulating more things. Just last week she brought home a standing lamp that she found in the garbage in the alley behind the building, and I kid you not, it is in the shape of a martini, with a green bulb and all. My ex boyfriend dumped me for a woman old enough to be his mother, my little yellow Volkswagen Beetle is on it’s last legs, and I’m behind in my rent so I have to sneak in and out of my apartment to avoid running into my landlord. Oh, and there’s a cat who has decided to claw at the window on my fire escape every fucking night at 2 am and scream bloody murder, all because Dee started feeding it. Fuck. My. Life. She named him Scott. What the hell kind of name is Scott for a tom cat? She said she felt bad for him because he’s a stray, but he’s literally the fattest cat I’ve ever seen, and I’ve told her he belongs to Mrs. Landers the elderly woman who lives two floors up and has at least a dozen cats. Nevertheless, every night, ‘Scott’ wants food and Cass can somehow sleep through the cries he makes. And I’m convinced the sink in my kitchen is haunted because it turns on on its own all the time, and there’s never any hot water when I go to take a shower because my neighbour Albert takes two hour long showers while he sings opera at the top of his lungs. Every day. So yeah, I’ve got it made.
But hopefully everything is going to change today. Today, I have a job interview. No, it’s not doing something that has put me forty-five grand in debt in student loans, but as… A personal assistant. Not any personal assistant, but the assistant to Manhattan’s most successful businessman under thirty, Christopher Montgomery. He was in the Times and everything. I’m not gunna lie, I saw his picture in the article the Times did of him, and I fantasied about while I masterbated. My vibrator sure as shit got me off on that day. And now I have an interview to work for him.
Thank god he’s not interviewing me, can you imagine? He owns his own investment company, and probably won’t even be there today, or if he is, will probably be in a meeting all day. I probably won’t even get the job. Are you kidding? I’m a barista, a poor ass university grad who hasn’t been able to find work, and apparently I’m not capable of keeping a guy from leaving me for a forty-three year old cosmetologist. I mean, I didn’t exactly see myself marrying Dean, but after two years together to come home after graduation to see him packing his shit, and saying he’s moving in with Patsy, of Patsy’s Beauty and Household Goods, was kind of a slap in the face. Who hell has a beauty store and household goods in the same shop? I guess I should have expected something like that from someone who got a degree in philosophy, but it still hurt.
I ran my brush through my hair and pulled in up into a ponytail, with my blonde bangs hanging out. I recently decided, as all women do when they go through a traumatic event such as a break up, to change my hair. I didn’t go too crazy, I just got side bangs, but I didn’t take into account how difficult it would be trying to keep them out of my face. They were too short to pull into a ponytail, and I hate trying to use hair pins, so, I have no choice but to just roll with it and accept my fate: I have made a terrible mistake but changing my hair.
I put on a thin layer of BB cream, a little mascara, instantly regretting doing so as I got the fucking applicator brush in my eye, which made my eyes water and completely fuck up said mascara, some blush and a light pink lipstick. Classy. Sophisticated. Professional. I pulled on the silky pink blouse I just bought from Nordstrom, carefully tucking the tag into the back so I could return it because it cost me… too much money, black slacks and a navy blue suit coat that I’ve had since senior year of high school that I got from a discount store. I slipped on the only pair of “professional” heels I own, black faux leather pumps that I’ve reserved solely for funerals… until today. Today, they are professional interview shoes. I swapped out my regular cheap pink studs for sliver ones that had diamonds, err, cubic zirconia diamonds, but they looked close enough, with a matching necklace.
“Ooh lala, de classé”
I turned and saw Dee leaning in the doorframe of the bathroom, popping a grape into her mouth.
Dionne has been my best friend since grade school. We both grew up in a small town in Iowa, and somehow managed to get into NYU together, with Dee getting a degree in computer science. She was one of only a handful of black kids in our school, and when her and her family moved in next door in third grade, we instantly became besties. She’s kind of a rebel, she’s got three piercings in one ear, five in the other, wears her hair in dreads, but has the left side shaved, and its dyed purple. Her septum is pierced and I learned, unfortunately in a game of truth or dare during a sleepover once in high school, that she has her hood pierced. Information I really didn’t need to know in sophomore year, especially since I didn’t even lose my virginity until I was a senior. Dee was always hella open about her sexual experiences, me, not so much. God, when Dee lost her virginity in freshman year, she called me right afterward, still out of breath.
I envied her, she was so open and loved everything about her body, I wish I had her confidence. I can’t even wear a bikini at the beach without keeping a towel wrapped around my waist. I mean, I have a good hourglass figure, and I stay in shape, but I’ve always been extremely self conscious of… everything I do.
“That’s kind of an insult, thanks, Dee.”
“Wait… what? Really?”
I brushed past her, grabbing my purse and portfolio from the top of my dresser and walking through the narrow hallway to the living room/kitchen combo.
“Yeah, really. You’re basically telling me I’m lower that standard.”
Dee sucked a grape back, chewing it loudly.
“Well, I meant you look classy. I don’t know Italian.”
I stopped in my tracks and slowly turned to look at her. She gave a small smile
“I know! I meant French, I don’t know why it came out Italian. Oh, wait, yes I do. Because last night I got the fuck of my liiiiife from an Italian chick named Isabella, my god, her tongue-“
I threw my hands out, searching the cluttered counter for my keys,
“Dee, I’m sorry, but I really don’t have time to listen to your sex stories right now, I need to leave for my interview. Have you seen my keys?”
“Yeah, they’re on the shelf.” She walked over and picked them up off the shelf that housed my collection of beanie babies. Don’t judge me.
“You’re the best, thank you!” I gave her an air kiss and made my way to the door,
“You’re gunna do great, sweetie!” She called out in an overly flamboyant voice, “Rock the socks off of Mr. Montgomery.”
I gave her a grateful smile and peeked my head out the door, looking down the hallway both ways, before I stepped out and stealthily headed for the stairwell, walking down the five flights of stairs. By the time I got to the ground floor, I was out of breath.
‘Please don’t be there, please don’t be there’ I chanted in my head, as I walked by my landlord’s apartment as quietly as I could. I could see the door. Safety was in sights. Just as I took in a breath of relief I head the door rip open, and a deep raspy voice call out,
“Not so fast, Ms. West!”
I winced and turned around to see my landlord, Irma Fischer standing in the doorway. She was a skinny woman in her sixties, wore big coke bottle type dark green glasses on a chain around her neck, with grey hair that was always up in bright pink rollers, hidden very terribly under a purple… shower cap? She always wore moo moo type dresses, but today she was still in a silky yellow night gown with a purple silky robe over it. The night gown only went about midway past her knees, and she clearly hadn’t shaved her legs in a long ass time. She had thick socks on with flip flops, always a classic. She was holding her sphinx cat Buttons in her arms, with a cigarette on a long red cigarette holder hanging out of the corner of her mouth. A long set of fake pearls hung from around her neck, and I could hear the sound of The Price Is Right playing from her TV. Buttons hissed at me as soon as he saw me. God, cats hate me.
She waltzed over to me, her fake pearls jingling as she did and poked me in my chest with a boney finger.
“Where’s my rent?”
“Good morning, Ms. Fischer! How are you today?” I plastered on a big smile
“Ha. Where’s my rent?” She asked again, the hair above her lip completely distracting me for a moment. God, I just wanted to rip them out with tweezers.
“Huh? Oh! yes, the rent… Uh, about that..”
“Uh huh, about that! You’re a week late.”
“Yeah, I know… Uh, well, you see… My job cut my hours back, so I’m kind of tight for money right now.” Lie. Total lie. I mean about the cutting hours, I’m totally fucking broke right now because I spent three hundred dollars on this shirt in hopes of setting a good impression for this interview.
“But, my next paycheque I’ll have the rent, I promise. I’m actually on my way to an interview at Montgomery Industries, so fingers crossed I get the job and I won’t be late anymore on-”
She glared at me through those thick glasses. It was always so hard not to laugh when she was wearing them, because she looked like the old man from the Aristocats who sings on the stairs. Classic.
“This is the third time you’ve been late. I don’t care about your sob stories, I care about getting my money. You’ve got until the end of the week to get me my rent or your out!” She turned and slammed the door behind her.
I let out a breath and quickly walked outside and went to my Beetle and put the key in the door, giving two shakes as always and it unlocked. I threw my purse and portfolio on the passenger seat, and quickly retrieved the block of wood from behind the back wheel. When you can’t afford to get the e-brake fixed, you improvise. I got in and put the key in the ignition, pumping the gas twice as I did so because that was the only way to get it to start. After three attempts it finally started with a loud whizzing, coughing sound. Success! You will not get the better of me today, Tilly. That’s what I call my car, Tilly.
I looked at the clock on the radio, 8:45am. Shit. I’m gunna get stuck in traffic. Good thing my interview isn’t until ten. The normal twenty minute drive would be much longer with the morning traffic.
I sang along to the song on the radio, Killer Queen while I sat in traffic, inching along, making my way to Manhattan. It would have been a lot quicker if I took the subway, but ya girl doesn’t have any change or a pass.
The time ticked closer and close to my interview time and I was starting to panic a little, finally arriving to Montgomery Industries Headquarters or, MIH in upper west side Manhattan, and spent another ten minutes trying to find a spot to park, finally finding one on the side of the building as a car pulled away. It was 9:53am.
I grabbed my stuff, shoved the block of wood under the wheel, and literally ran up the sidewalk to the front steps to get to the entrance of the massive, twenty-six story building, trying to catch my breath before walking into the building. I smoothed out my blouse and walked inside. A polished mahogany reception desk sat against a wall on the left of the foyer and employees were bustling about. The white tile floors and white walls gave a sterile, yet sophisticated look to the interior. There was a fountain to the left, not too far from the reception desk with koi fish and had shrubbery around it. Large plush leather chairs sat along a wall, with tall potted plants littered along the walls. The elevators were down the hall and lined both walls.
‘well, shit. This is intimidating.’
I casually and confidently walked over the woman sitting at the desk. She looked up from her computer screen and eyed me through her designed glasses.
“May I help you?” She asked
“Yes, I’m Madison West, I have an interview with Colette Wagner.”
The woman typed on her keyboard for a moment.
“Have a seat, I’ll let Colette know you’re here.”
I sat down on one of the leather chairs and sunk into it. This was not fake leather, and was one of the softest chairs I had ever sat in, holy shit. It probably cost more that my car, but that’s not saying much.
After a few minutes a woman wearing a black knee length dress with a red belt around the middle and red shoes walked over to me. She was carrying a dark brown binder and had brown hair pulled into a bun at the back of her head, and she wore a cat pin on the left side of the dress. Her face was serious and stern.
I stood up and held my hand out, “Good morning, I’m Madison West, here to interview for-”
“You’re late. The interview was set for ten am, it is now five after.” She said in a British accent, ignoring my outstretched hand.
“Oh, well, there was traffic, and I had trouble finding a spot to park, but I did get here before ten.” I let my hand fall down.
“When an interview is set for a specific time, it’s courteous to arrive fifteen minutes early to ensure the interview proceeds on time. Are you not a punctual person, Ms. West?”
“I… I am, yes. I just didn’t expect so much traffic.”
“Honey, this is New York. There’s always traffic.” She eyed my outfit, and looked me the eyes and was silent for a moment.
“Well. You’re here, so follow me up to the board room.”
She turned on her heels and walked toward the elevators, and I quickly followed her, heels clinking on the tiles and felt a wobble in my right shoe.
‘Oh no. Oh sweet Jesus, do NOT break!’
I tried to put more pressure on the left foot to ease the tension on the right, and really hoped I didn’t look like I had a limp. Colette pushed the button and one of the shiny metal doors opened and we stepped into a beautiful elevator with a red carpet. She pushed a button and the doors closed, going to the twelfth floor.
“How long have you worked here?” I asked.
She didn’t reply right away, she was typing on her phone. “I have worked for Mr. Montgomery for five years.”
“Oh cool. What do you do here?”
The doors opened and she stepped out of the elevator and I followed her into a large room with a long white marble table, and twelve black chairs, the large windows that lined the walls were tinted, but you could still see the city out of them.
“Have a seat.” She motioned to a chair, and I sat down. She sat across the large table from me, and opened her binder, reading over the resume she had. She looked up at me and cleared her throat.
“I’m Colette Wagner, I’m the Chief Financial Officer here at Montgomery Industries, and I will be conducting your interview this morning.”
I gave a small smile and a nod. ‘of course you’re the CFO’
She cleared her throat again and looked down at a sheet in the binder, and pulled a pen out.
“Why did you apply for this job?”
“I read about the accomplishments Mr. Montgomery has made in the investment world, and thought I could be a valuable resource to the company. I would love the opportunity to work for such a successful man.”
She stared at me for a moment before cocking an eyebrow and writing something down.
“How did you hear about this position?”
“I actually overheard a customer at the cafe I work at talk about the open position available here. She mentioned her son applied but hadn’t heard anything, so I decided to apply.”
“So you decided to cash in on anther’s failure?”
“What? Uh, no, that’s not what I meant” I gave a small chuckle and tried to explain but Colette cut me off.
“You applied for the position of personal assistant to Mr. Montgomery, are you aware of the requirements of the job? Mr. Montgomery does most of his business very late into the night, and early in the morning. The hours are… long.”
“I can handle long hours.”
“You’ll be required to accompany Mr. Montgomery on any and all business trips he makes including here or abroad for anywhere up to a week, would that be a problem?”
“No, no of course not.”
“Mr. Montgomery is a very busy man, sometimes he’s required to work on weekends and holidays.”
She stared at me. I swallowed,
“I’m not a religious person, and I’m not in a relationship, so I’m available… whenever.” I let out a chuckle.
“Mr. Montgomery may on occasion require you to go out and run errands for him during the day, do you have reliable transportation?”
I could feel heat rise to my face thinking about my car. “Yes, I have a car.”
She wrote something down. “Have you ever worked as a personal assistant before?”
“No, but I’m very loyal to companies I’ve worked for. As it says in my resume, I’ve worked as a barista for four years, and before that I worked at as a hostess at a restaurant back home.”
“And yet, here you are terminating your employment with your current job.”
“Why do you want to leave your current employer?”
“I’m looked to move on into an industry which I studied for, and to be honest working as a barista doesn’t pay very much.”
She looked at my resume and then back at me.
“Last I checked personal assistant, and marketing management are not the same thing.”
“No, they’re not, but I think I could learn a lot about Mr. Montgomery, and how to run a business.”
“Mr. Montgomery offers fair compensation, but I feel like it wouldn’t be enough for you, since you have such… high expectations.”
“He requires his staff to be on time, which you were not for this interview.”
“This is a professional workplace where we are required to speak formally, not with slang or filler words, like ‘uh’.”
She slammed the binder closed.
“I think we’re done here. I’ll escort you downstairs. I’m sorry, but I don’t think you’ll be the right fit here.”
“Oh.” I said softly and nodded, “Well, thank you for your time.”
Colette stood up and held her hand out, I stood and shook her hand, trying to hide the disappointment on my face. She walked around the table and stopped as the door to the conference room opened.
Christopher Montgomery stood there in a dark grey suit, and white dress shirt perfectly tailored to his incredibly fit body. His skin was blemish free and the perfect shade; not too tanned, not too pale. His chiseled facial features were absolutely perfect, with dark smouldering eyes, freshly shaved jaw, and dark brown hair that was neatly groomed, but the tousles were threatening to become unkempt with any breeze.
I struggled to keep my jaw from dropping, he was even hotter in person, and just looking at him and smelling his deep musky cologne made my panties wet, just saying. He immediately turned his gaze on me, catching my blue eyes in his dark ones, as if he could see into my soul. His eyes travelled over my body, and then back to my face, before he walked into the room.
“Christopher, Good morning.” Colette said, giving him a polite smile.
Rude. The bitch didn’t smile at me once.
“Colette.” He said in a deep, alluring voice. He turned back to me and gave me a warm, welcoming, panty dropping smile.
“Hello, I’m Chris Montgomery.” He walked over and held his hand out.
I smiled and shook it. His hand was warm and soft, his grip firm, yet gentle at the same time.
“Madison West, It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Montgomery.”
He held onto my hand for a moment before dropping it, his eyes never leaving mine. Normally if someone looked at you that intently for that long, it would give you the creeps, but there was something about Christopher Montgomery that made you feel… safe and secure.
“Christopher, I was just about to escort Ms. West out.” Colette said
“Oh?” He turned to Colette. I could see his muscles rippling under his suit and my mouth went dry. “May I see her resume?” He held his hand out and Colette opened her binder and pulled it out, handing it to him.
He looked over it, and then over the paper at her.
“I assume she wasn’t qualified?”
“That’s correct. I don’t feel she would be an asset to this company, or to you.”
“Huh.” He turned back to me and read over the resume again. “I think I’d like to interview her for myself, Colette.”
She blinked a few times, “Christopher, I’ve made notes I’ll be happy to share with you.”
“The position is for my personal assistant, Colette. Thank you, but I will interview her alone.” His voice was firm, commanding.
Colette gave him a nod, folded her hands over her binder, and left the room, closing the door behind her, and walking down the hall.
He smiled at me, and offered me a seat, sitting across from him.
“Would you like to see my portfolio?” I offered.
He smiled, “Yes, please.”
I stood to hand it to him, and he took it, opening it as I sat back down. His eyes read over the papers, and he chuckled reading over something.
“You’re from Iowa? What’s a girl from Iowa doing in New York?” He looked up at me
“Well, I came here to go to NYU, and-”
“Yes, I read that in your resume. Tell me why you stayed here.”
“Uh, well… The job opportunities in New York are better than Iowa.”
He looked at me.
“And… Iowa sucks. There’s nothing to do in the town I’m from, and my mother is like my shadow always lurking around me. I needed to get away and do my own thing.”
He smiled widely and laughed, leaning back in his seat. “Mothers tend to do things like that don’t they?”
“Uh huh, they sure do.” I started to relax. He was so easy to talk to.
“Why’d you choose to major in marketing? Of all things.”
“That’s… a good question.” I sighed, looking off to the side, shrugging my shoulders a bit
He laughed again, shaking his head. “Tell me about yourself.”
“Well, I’m from Sioux City, and I graduated from NYU in June-”
“No, no.” He stopped me, “I want to know about you. What do you like, what do you not like?”
“Uh…” I did not expect that question, “I like… Dolphins.” I started.
He nodded slightly, ushering me to continue.
“And I really like the ocean, but I don’t like going in it, I’m scared I’ll get eaten by a shark if I do. I don’t like cats, or spiders.”
“I really like Italian food. Fettuccini Alfredo is my favourite, I could eat it like, everyday. I do not like cheesecake.”
He raised his eyebrows
“I think it’s absolutely disgusting, and don’t understand why anyone would like it, it’s basically curdled milk with sugar. Ugh, and milk. I don’t know how people can drink it straight.”
“What’s your favourite song?”
“Umm… Radio Gaga.”
“You’re so young, I’d think you’d like Katy Perry, or Justin Bieber, or something like that.”
I rolled my eyes, “God no. And You’re not that much older than I am. You’re only twenty-nine.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Only twenty-nine.” He repeated, almost sadly. He quickly smiled again, and closed my portfolio, sliding it across the table.
“I think I’ve heard all I need to.”
I nodded, “Thank you for your time, Mr. Montgomery.” I stood up.
“Huh?” He looked at me in confusion
“Ms. Wagner already told me I didn’t get the job.”
“Colette Wagner is a fucking idiot who doesn’t make the decisions here. I do.”
“Uh… Yes, I know.”
He stood up and walked around the table, and held his hand out.
“Ms. West, I would be honoured if you would accept my offer of employment here.”
“Really?” I asked dumbfounded
He nodded, “Really.”
I shook his hand and gave him a smile. “Thank you, Mr. Montgomery! I appreciate the opportunity to work with you!”
“I can’t wait to work with you, Ms. West.”
“Oh, please, call me Maddie.”
“Maddie.” It rolled off of his tongue like butter, and I swear I could have swooned at the way he said my name.
“Please, Maddie, Call me Chris. I hate the formalities.”
“Uh, Okay, Mr. Mon- Chris.”
He smiled. “Come, I’ll get the paperwork all ready for you.”
He ushered me to the elevator and once inside, he pulled a swipe card from his inner pocket, swiped it, and pressed a button to go to the twentieth floor.
“Anything on above the fifteenth floor requires a key card to be accessed. You’ll get one soon.”
I nodded, “Alrighty.”
He gave me a look, “Alrighty?”
“Sorry. I mean, yes sir.”
We walked onto the floor, where there were lots of offices, and people working quietly. A woman walked past and smiled,
“Good morning, Mr. Montgomery.”
“Good morning, Gladys.”
She smiled at me, and I smiled back.
“Good morning, Madison.” She said
I made a face of confusion, “Uh… Good… Good morning…”
He ushered me into his office, and sat behind a large polished desk and pulled out a folder with paperwork and handed me a pen.
“This is all simple corporate stuff, agreement to follow protocol, professionalism in the workplace, dress code, compensation, health benefits… That sort of thing. Read through it, and sign the acknowledgements. If you have any questions, just ask.”
I started to read through the paperwork, and felt slightly uncomfortable because he was watching me. like, never taking his eyes off of me.
I skimmed the paperwork, and signed, moving onto another one.
Workplace Terms of Agreement. I signed without really reading.
I almost cursed when I saw the compensation.
“Um, Mr. Montgomery… Sorry, Chris.”
“Is this correct? It says I’ll be getting 135,000 a year.”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
My jaw dropped and I looked at him. “Sir.” I started, “That’s… A lot for a personal assistant.”
“I think it’s a fair salary, given the long hours, and travelling you’ll be doing with me, but if you’d like we could discuss a larger one.”
“No! no, this is… more than fair.”
I quickly signed all of the paperwork and handed it back to him.
“Excellent. I’ll have Moira photocopy this and give the copies to you.”
He stood and punched in a code to a safe behind his desk, and pulled out a key card, handing it to me.
“This is yours. It gives you access to anywhere in the office, except the basement and the penthouse.”
“The penthouse?” I looked over the keycard
“Yes, the penthouse. You’ll have access to the guest apartment, naturally, but the penthouse is off limits. I can’t have people coming to my apartment whenever they feel like it.”
“Wait… I’m… I’m not living here… Am I?”
“What? No, of course not. But like I said, the hours will be long, you may not feel like driving home some nights, so you may want to spend the night in the guest apartment.”
“Oh, okay.” I was honestly in a slight state of shock, not gunna lie.
“Now don’t lose your keycard. You won’t be able to get anywhere important without it.”
A knock on the door interrupted us.
“Yes? Come in.”
A short man with a receding hairline in a pinstripe suit opened the door.
“Christopher? The council is here to see you.”
“Oh, shit. Yes, I completely forgot. Uh, please excuse me, Maddie. Can you be here at eight tomorrow morning?”
“Yes.” I nodded.
He smiled at me, and nodded. “Great. I’ll see you then. Walt, can you see that she gets to the lobby?”
“Just like that?”
“Yeah, just like that! Hired of the spot!”
Dee jumped up and spun me around. “I’m so proud of you baby girl!”
I giggled, “Thanks! But, omg wait till I tell you the salary! 135,000 a year.”
“Fuck off, it is not.”
I nodded, pulling the paperwork out
“What the fuck?! Giiiiirl buy be a house!”
I laughed walking into the bathroom, “Byyee.” I called out, closing the door and turning the shower on.
I stripped down and just as I had suspected, my panties were soaked. But not from arousal, no. I had started my period.
I got a quick shower, and jumped out, looking for a tampon.
“Hey, Dee! Where are the tampons?”
“Uh… Oh, here I found them.”
She opened the door and stuck her hand in, holding the box for me.
I sat on my bed and was re-reading the paperwork, and noticed a spelling error on my name in the paperwork. Madison with two d’s. That could be a problem. I definitely should have read it all through. I’ll have to tell him tomorrow.
I looked at the key card and noticed it said “Christopher Montgomery: CEO
“Oh shit!” I jumped up. I took the wrong keycard. It was 8:45pm but, I thought it was important that I get the correct card, so I pulled on a pair of jeans, and a sweatshirt and drove over. At least there wasn’t any traffic.
I found a place to park, and rushing in, showing security the pass, so they let me in just fine. I went to the elevator and swipes the card, feeling like I was impersonating Christopher Montgomery and pressed the button for the twentieth floor.
The floor was dark and quiet as I cautiously walked to his office. It was eerie being there at night with nobody there, kind of creepy.
As I approached his office I noticed light around the door frame.
‘Shit. He’s in there.’
I took a deep breath, and knocked lightly.
I heard a chair move, and then the door opened really fast. Christopher Montgomery glared at me.
“What are you doing here?” He asked
“Uh, sorry, but I grabbed the wrong keycard. This is yours.”
He grabbed the card from me and turned. “You really shouldn’t be here this late, Madison.”
“I’m sorry, I just thought it couldn’t wait. I figured you’d need your keycard, since mine isn’t programmed to go everywhere.”
He chuckled, and turned to face me. “I appreciate your… loyalty.”
I noticed then now that he was in the light that he had… blood? In the corner on his mouth.
“Are… are you okay? You’re bleeding!”
He chuckled again, wiping his mouth. “Yes, I’m fine. Stay there, I’ll get your card.”
I took a step forward, stepping into his office and to my horror, I saw a woman laying on his desk, seemingly unconscious with two puncture wounds on her neck, with a light stream of blood dripping from them.
My heart caught in my chest, and looks at him, his back to me, and slowly started to back up. His head shot up. “Where are you going, Madison?” He asked, his back still to me.
He turned around and I noticed his eyes were red. He smiled at me revealing two sharp fangs where his canine teeth should be.
“You can’t go anywhere without your keycard.”
I turned and ran down the hallway.
‘Oh shit, oh fuck, oh no!’
I turned the corner and screamed. Somehow he ended up in front of me.
“I can’t let you leave right now, Madison.” Suddenly he sniffed the air, and his head snapped at me. He looked me up and down and smiled.
“I can smell you. I can smell your blood. And I want it.”