Part 1: Chapter 1
This novel deals with mature subject matter, including crude language, graphic sexual descriptions, violence, and sexual abuse. This is a complete, but slow to edit novel, so bare with me on the editing. I hope you enjoy Blood Lust.
“Hi, I’m name is Madison West, I’m twenty-three and I just graduated from NYU with a degree in marketing.”
I smile at myself in the mirror and groan, rolling my eyes. “God, I sound like an idiot.”
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. I kid you not, it is in the shape of a martini glass, with a green bulb that burns the eyes if you stare at it.
My ex boyfriend out of nowhere 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 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 who has at least a dozen cats. Nevertheless, every night, this demon cat wants food and Dee can somehow sleep through the howls he makes.
My apartment never has 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 though, 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 him while I masterbated. My vibrator sure as shit got me off on that day, I’m not even ashamed to admit it. And now I have an interview to work for him.
He owns his own investment company, and probably won’t even be there today, or if he is, will probably be in a meeting, thank god, because I’d probably die if I had to interview with him.
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 seven years together, to go out to dinner together to celebrate graduation, only to have him tell me that he wants to break up was one thing, but when he said he was leaving me for 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. Our relationship was shitty with him having cheated on my numerous times in the past, but it fucking hurt to know I wasn’t good enough, and that a forty-three year old woman was better than me.
I shuddered at the thought of Dean with Patsy and ran my brush through my hair then 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 because of that one time where a hair pin got caught in a hat I was wearing and pulled a chunk of hair out of the top of my head when I was twelve. So, I have no choice but to just roll with it and accept my fate; I have made a terrible mistake by cutting my hair.
I put on a thin layer of BB cream, a little mascara, which I instantly regretted doing 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 that is. 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 Kelly has been my best friend since grade school. We both grew up in Sioux City Iowa, and thankfully 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 always been kind of a rebel, she’s got three piercings in one ear, five in the other, wears her hair in long dreaded extensions that are purple and blue. 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 the hood of her clitoris 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 and her sexuality, but me? Not so much. God, when Dee lost her virginity in freshman year, she called me right afterward, still out of breath and going on about how she had had multiple orgasms.
I envied her, she was so open and loved everything about her body, and 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 got cellulite in my ass and I don’t have the envious thigh gap that I’ve been desperate to achieve. I’ve always been extremely self conscious about my body, mainly because of some shit Dean had said to me a few times regarding the dreaded “freshman fifteen”.
“That’s kind of an insult, thanks, Dee.” I rolled my eyes.
“Wait… what? Really?”
I brushed past her, grabbing my purse and portfolio from the top of my dresser and walked through the narrow hallway to the living room/kitchen combo.
“Yeah, really. You’re basically telling me I’m lower than standard.”
Dee sucked a grape back, chewing it loudly, then coughed.
“God! I just swallowed a seed.” She gasped, putting a hand on her throat. “I meant you look classy, Maddie. I don’t know Italian.”
I stopped in my tracks and slowly turned to look at her, cocking my eyebrow. She gave a small smile, holding her hand out.
“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 sexcapades 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.
I walked by my landlord’s apartment as quietly as I could on my toes to avoid my heels clanking on the floor. I could see the outer door. Safety was in sights. Just as I took in a breath of relief I heard a door fly open with a loud creak, 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 down her shins, 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 loudly from her TV. Buttons hissed at me as soon as he saw me. God, I hate that cat.
She waltzed over to me, her fake pearls jingling as she did and poked me in my chest with a boney finger, her long red press-on fake nail scraped against my skin.
“Where’s my rent?”
“Good morning, Ms. Fischer! How are you today?” I plastered on a big smile and rubbed at the spot where her nail scratched, praying she didn’t give me hepatitis or something.
“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 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 you’re 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.
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 New York morning traffic.
I sang along to the song on the radio, while I sat in traffic, inching along and making my way into Manhattan. It would have been a lot quicker if I took the subway, but I didn’t wanna risk getting my outfit all nasty from the train, or have the creeps that take the train gawking at me.
The time ticked closer and closer to my interview time and I was starting to panic a little, finally arriving to Montgomery Industries Headquarters or, MIH as it was better known as 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 with dark glass and sleek polished stone siding, polished grey stone steps, and large imposing tinted windowed doors, trying to catch my breath before walking into the intimidating 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 sophisticatedly modern 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 while my heart was racing to fast I thought it was going to burst right out of my chest. 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 at ten o’clock with Colette Wagner.”
The woman nodded and typed on her keyboard for a moment with perfectly manicured red fingernails.
“Have a seat Ms. West, I’ll let Colette know you’re here.” She said with a polite smile.
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 considering Tilly is almost twenty years old, and I bought her for four hundred dollars last year.
After a few minutes a woman wearing a black knee length dress with a red belt around the middle, a black business suit jacket, 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 sparkling ruby brooch 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 sharp 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, as she was typing on her impressive latest model of a blackberry. “I have worked for Mr. Montgomery for five years.”
“Oh wow, that’s amazing. 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, internally screaming.
‘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 another’s failure?” Colette stared daggers at me.
“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.” I said with a nod.
“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 gulped, “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 local restaurant back home for two years.”
“And yet, here you are terminating your employment with your current employer, leaving them short staffed.”
I blinked, unsure of what to say.
“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.”
“Well…” This isn’t going well at all.
“This is a professional workplace where we are required to speak formally, not with slang or filler words, like ‘uh’.”
I gulped, feeling my face turn crimson.
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.
There he was. Christopher Montgomery standing in the doorway 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. He was tall, standing at six foot three, especially when compared to my five foot seven. His chiseled facial features were absolutely perfect, with dark smouldering eyes, a straight nose with a slight bump on the bridge, freshly shaven sharp jaw, and dark brown hair that was neatly styled back, 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, my mouth go dry, and my clit throb so hard I squeezed my thighs. He immediately turned his gaze on me, catching my blue eyes in his dark ones, as if he could see into my soul, and I swear I saw him sniff the air slightly. His eyes travelled over my body, and then back to my face, before he walked into the room, looking slightly taken aback, his face set in a slight furrow before a look of relief washed over his face.
“Christopher, Good morning.” Colette said, giving him a polite smile.
Rude. The bitch didn’t smile at me once this whole time.
“Colette.” He said in a deep, smooth voice that almost made me swoon as he turned and gave her a nod.
He turned back to me and gave me a warm, welcoming, panty dropping smile that made me want to strip down and let him take me right then and there.
“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.” I said, trying to stop my voice from sounding breathless.
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 blinked a few times, shook his head slightly and turned to Colette. I could see his muscles rippling under his suit and my mouth went dry, wondering what he looked like naked.
“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?” His brow furrowed slightly.
“That’s correct. I don’t feel she would be an asset to this company, or to you.”
‘Thanks. I’m literally standing right here, you bitch.’ I thought to myself, clenching my jaw.
“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 while she gave some shady side eye, and left the room, closing the door behind her.
Christopher smiled at me, and offered me a seat, sitting across from him.
“Sorry about her, I had a last minute meeting come up earlier, so I couldn’t conduct the interview myself. Thankfully it ended quickly so I didn’t miss-” He cleared his throat, not finishing his sentence.
“Would you like to see my portfolio?” My voice was slightly shaky, and I felt intimidated by his presence.
He smiled, “Yes, please.”
I had to stand and lean over the table 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 with warm eyes.
“Well, I came here to go to NYU, and-”
“Yes, I read that in your resume. Tell me why you stayed here.” He folded one hand over the other.
“Uh, well… The job opportunities in New York are better than in Iowa.”
He looked at me with a slight smile, ushering me to continue.
“And… There’s nothing to do in the town I’m from, and my mother and I don’t really get along that well, so I feel like she’d be smothering me with her presence. So once I got accepted to NYU I decided I didn’t want to go back. Plus, does anything really beat the New York skyline?”
He smiled widely and laughed, leaning back in his seat. “Mothers tend to do things like that don’t they? Smother their children wanting to know where they are all the time.”
“Uh huh, they sure do.” I started to relax, leaning back into the chair. He was just so easy to talk to.
“New York is one of my favourite cities as well. Nothing comes close to it.” He grinned.
I smiled and nodded.
“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, Ms. West.”
“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.
“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. Never saw the appeal of golf or skydiving. Who came up with idea to jump out of a plane and rely on a piece of fabric to save you from impending death, you know? Maybe it’s just because I’m scared of heights.”
“I really like Italian food. Fettuccini Alfredo is my favourite, I could eat it like, everyday. But like, not every day because you know…Carbs. Uh… I do not like cheesecake.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Really?”
“I think it’s absolutely disgusting, and don’t understand why anyone likes 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?” He gave me a slight nod.
“Umm… Radio Gaga.”
“Queen? That’s surprising.”
“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.
“Excuse me?” He looked at me in confusion.
“Ms. Wagner already told me I didn’t get the job.”
“Colette Wagner doesn’t make the decisions here. I do. To be frank, I find she cam be rather fucking obnoxious sometimes.”
“Uh… Yes, I know… I know that you make the decisions, I mean.” I was shocked that he cursed like that.
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, hoping my voice didn’t sound nearly as excited as I thought it did.
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.
“Hmm, I think I prefer Madison. Please, Madison, Call me Chris. I hate the formalities.”
“Uh, Okay, Mr. Mon- Chris.”
‘Dude, you call me whatever the fuck you want.’
He smiled. “Come with me, 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 or above the fifteenth floor requires a key card to be accessed. You’ll get a temporary one until human resources sets yours up with your photo identification.”
I nodded, “Alrighty.”
He gave me a look, “Alrighty?”
“Sorry. I mean, yes sir.” Fuck, Madison! Stop acting like a damn teenager!
He chuckled and smiled at me, his eyes not leaving my face as we rode the elevator.
We walked onto the floor, where there were lots of offices, and people working quietly. A plump woman walked by and smiled warmly at us.
“Good morning, Mr. Montgomery.”
“Good morning, Gladys.” Christopher gave her a warm smile.
She smiled at me, and I smiled back, her eyes flickering to Christopher and then back at me. I noticed he gave her a slight nod, and her smile grew wider.
“Good morning, Madison.” She said, her voice full of excitement.
I made a face of confusion, “Uh… Good… Good morning…”
He narrowed his eyes slightly at Gladys, who smiled back at him in a playful way. 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 dollars 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’d be happy with like, half of that.”
I quickly signed all of the paperwork and handed it back to him.
“Excellent. I’ll have Gladys 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 your temporary keycard. It gives you access to anywhere in the office, except the basement and the penthouse.”
“The penthouse?” I took the keycard from him.
“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.” He chuckled. “But like I said, the hours will be long and you may not feel like driving home some nights, so you may want to spend the night in the guest apartment. Safety first, I’d never forgive myself if you were to get hurt driving home while you’re exhausted.”
“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.” He sounded irritated at the intrusion.
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, Madison. Can you be here at eight tomorrow morning? We can go over a few things then.”
“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?”
He smiled at me cheekily. “Alrighty. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
I smiled back at him, instantly becoming more comfortable with him.
“Just like that?” Dee grinned.
“Yeah, just like that! Hired on the spot!”
Dee jumped up and spun me around. “I’m so proud of you baby girl!”
I giggled, “Thanks! But, wait till I tell you the salary! 135,000 a year.”
“Fuck off, it is not.” She scoffed.
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 because good ol’ Albert took all of the hot water, 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.
Later that night, 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 that it said Christopher Montgomery: CEO
“Oh shit!” I jumped up. “How the hell did I take the wrong keycard?”
It was 8:45pm but, I thought it was important that I return his keycard, 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 rushed in, showing security the pass, so they let me in just fine. I went to the elevator and swiped the card, feeling like I was impersonating Christopher Montgomery and pressed the button for the twentieth floor, briefly wondering if I should go to his penthouse, but decided that that would be way to intrusive.
The floor was dark and quiet as I cautiously walked to his office. It was eerie being there at night with nobody there, and 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.
“Fuck!” I heard a growling hiss.
I heard a chair move, and then the door opened really fast, and Christopher Montgomery glared at me, his tie hanging loosely around his neck, his suit jacket open, and his hair slightly disheveled.
“What are you doing here?” He asked, in a deep, irritated voice.
“Uh, sorry, but I grabbed the wrong keycard. This is yours.” I held out the keycard.
He grabbed the card from me and turned his back. “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, this time deeper, wiping his mouth with hip thumb and sticking it in his mouth, sucking the blood off of it. “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 slumped on a large sofa seemingly unconscious, with two puncture wounds on her neck, and a light stream of blood dripping from them.
My heart caught in my chest, and I looked at him, his back to me, and slowly started to back up.
His head shot up and he chuckled deeply. “Where are you going, Madison?” He asked, his back still to me.
He turned around and I noticed his eyes were a dark crimson red. He smiled at me revealing two sharp fangs where his canine teeth should be.
“You can’t go anywhere without your keycard.” He said, holding up a keycard.
I screamed loudly, 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 and he lost out a lustful groan. He looked me up and down and smiled.
“I can smell you. I can smell your blood. And I want it.”