3: Nasty Temptation
1027 Words
Brianna’s POV
“I hate him!”
I sniffle back tears, as I constantly blink my eyelashes. Who does he think he is?!
“It was just a freaking saucer. Why did he have to make a big deal out of it?” I ask myself rhetorically.
But then, I can’t explain why his touch felt like a burning sensation on my skin. The whole of me lit up like a blooming sunflower in spring. Maybe because he’s a jerk! ... I try so hard to believe my lie.
Not wanting to be caught in front of a client’s door like a stray dog, that’s if the security ain’t making a mockery of me right now behind their screen.
Enraged, I rush to the staff quarters, and against my will, I slow my pace, else I will give a suspicious vibe. Finally in, I slam the door like a lunatic and rest my back on it, shuddering from anger and anxiety.
“He’s a d**k head!” I puff, getting my retribution. “He can’t even make use of a dispenser, yet he acts like a demi-god.” I sigh.
Well, he’s classy and powerful and...
“Still!” I fight the defense rising up in my mind. “He’s too mean for a mortal.”
I pluck down my bag from the strip of hooks and ransack it for the sachet of 5mg of Buspirone, my mood stabilizer. Fishing it out, I take out two ugly white tablets, throw them in my mouth, and quickly gulp half the content of my bottle of water.
“He’s a Satanic leaf-tailed gecko, lame duck, arrow pig, hairy Armadillo...” I close my eyes and stop reciting, invoking my pure spirit.
“I’m not bothered.” I flip my auburn hair over my shoulder and return to the reception.
“Thank God,” Regina sighs.
“For?” I roll my eyes at her.
“I thought curiosity had finally killed you.” She teases, but I’m not in the mood to joke about it. “Did you finally fix it?”
“The gecko couldn’t even use a coffee dispenser properly,” I scoff. “He’s definitely from the 80’s.
“Nah, he’s too young and hot, don’t make me start hating my genes.” She frowns.
“Or, oh my god...” I cover my mouth.
“Quit being cheesy.” She tosses the stick of her lollipop in the bin, practicing her basketball skills, and as you guessed, it falls on the floor. Flopped.
“Argh.” She groans and bends down to do what she should have done earlier.
“What if he’s a vampire or a werewolf or the wizard of...”
“Really?” Regina sighs.
"Yeah. Because how else do you explain a century-old man looking that young?"
"Oh, and you returned without a mark on you?" She mocks me.
I ignore the part of me that wants to argue and look at the gold-lined wall clock. It’s a few minutes to 2 PM and our replacements are yet to arrive.
“Ah, just in time.”
Regina follows my directions to see John and Cleo walk in.
“Hello.” They wave as they walk towards the staff room.
“Hello.” I wave back, while Regina gives an obviously fake smile. She hates Cleo, and she doesn’t care to hide it for a minute.
We hurry up to balance our record, preparing to hand over for the day. John shows up behind us.
“Let’s go get our bags.”
“Please bring mine, it’s a black channel,” Regina pouts. Bags and clothes are her obsession, and she doesn’t mind spending her last bucks on those vanities.
“I don’t want to scratch that cat’s face.” She whispers to my hearing alone.
I giggle and leave her with John. At least there won’t be threatened bloodshed for ten minutes.
When I return, Regina is by the door, leaving John and Cleo by themselves. She won’t admit she’s the dramatic one. I wave them bye as we walk back to our different problems.
Regina and I depart at the bus station. My seat is next to a silver-haired granny, who occasionally looks at me from the side of the adult magazine she’s viewing.
I smile if that would make her comfortable.
“Oops.” I slouch on the sofa on arrival, trying my best not to look at the brown box on my center table.
It contains big and small envelopes, with all my debts tagged on them by paper tape. And today was ugly. Not one client tipped me. Thanks to Mr. chiseled jaws, he surely jinxed my day with his bad luck.
Not postponing the inevitable, I sit up and put the box in my lap. The first has the utility bills, the next is for the house mortgage and there’s a bigger one for my Parkinson’s.
I sniffle, trying to be stronger than I originally was. It takes the biggest envelope, followed by the mortgage, as I size them in order of priority.
A much smaller one totally stops me from crying. It’s the one for Jack’s loan that I signed as guarantor. I pick it up with a heavy heart.
“I’m ruined,” I murmur, hoping against hope that I am not.
For the three years I dated Jack, he never made any obvious contribution to my life, except for the not-so-bad s*x and small debts from his gambling.
I should have walked away when my pride was still intact. It’s easier said than done, as walking away meant discarding three years of my life and effort with the dumbass.
Tall, muscular, handsome, rich, powerful... I picture the Satanic gecko. Subconsciously, I chew on my lower lip, imagining what it would like to not be in control for once.
With my bills sorted out like a damsel in distress, and obviously great s*x too. Images of his bulge in that too-small Louis Vuitton boxers recur.
“Oh no, Brianna!” I shake my head haphazardly. “I can’t let the gecko bite me.”
- Writer
