Hey Friends! Hope all is well. I was hoping to get this chapter out to you all on Friday, but I ended up making up a few tweaks during my read-through that I think really helped get the story where I wanted it. That said, I'm excited to share this with you. It was loads of fun to write and pretty heavy in character development (which most of you know is my favorite.)
I can't wait to hear what feedback you have, and what you think of it.
Enough from me for now. I'm off to start the next chapter of Newlyweds. Also, as a reminder, if you haven't done so already, check out and vote for the 1st annual Mad Story Awards!
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"Wendy?"
Ava's voice from the doorway caused them both to freeze. How long had she been there? What all did she see?
Wendy's heart stopped as she met her friend's wide-eyed stare. Her fingers shot to her wedding ring in a panic, feeling the sticky substance on her fingers slide over the ring. She pulled her hand away like it had burned her, rubbing the front of her dress in four quick counts instead.
The expression on Ava's face told her everything she needed to know. Everything she'd worked for was about to go up in flames. Her career, her friendship, her marriage. Oh God, Jon. How could she do this to him?
Michael leaned back in his chair, the creak echoing through the room like a sonic boom. He tucked himself back into his pants with zero shame. Even with everything that was happening Wendy couldn't help but wonder how he got it all to fit. His lips curved into that satisfied smirk as he zipped up his pants. The casual arrogance of it made Wendy's stomach twist. How was he not freaking out? His career was about to go up in flames as well.
"Fuck," she breathed, scrambling to her feet. She searched frantically for her red blouse, covering her chest with her arms. She reached down, finding the fabric sticking out just under Michael's desk. She clutched the fabric closed across her chest, but there was no hiding what Ava had walked in on. Not with Michael's evidence still cooling on her skin.
"I um..." Ava's voice cracked. "Don't stop on my account. I was just leaving." Her tone turned cold as she spun around and pushed out the door.
Wendy gave a panicked look to Michael. His expression remained unchanged, his arms behind his head pushing it forward in a way that made it look like he had six chins. "Ugh," Wendy grunted in disgust, both at herself and Michael's lack of concern, before pushing past his desk. "Ava, wait—"
Ava was already out the door, before Wendy could catch her. She slipped out behind her, attempting to button her blouse with one hand, catching her friend in the hallway.
"Don't." Ava held up a hand without turning around. "I just... I can't."
"You don't understand—"
"I understand perfectly." Ava spun to face her. Tears welled in her eyes, and her nostrils flared. Wendy had never seen her friend look so angry. So... disgusted. "I told you. I fucking told you what he was," spit flew from Ava's mouth, unable to contain her emotions. "and you still... Jesus Christ, Wendy."
Each word was like venom in Wendy's veins. Ava was saying the same thing she had said to herself, deep down, she knew her friend was right. But Ava didn't understand the pressure she was under. The weight of the New Orleans trip, this project as a whole. They'd almost lost the Fireball account. Her first big project and she nearly blew it. Her fingers found the last button, her hands shaking so badly she could barely work it through the hole. "It's not what it looked like."
"Oh good, because it looked like you had Michael's dick in your mouth."
Heat flooded Wendy's face. She stared at her feet, unable to look her friend in the eye.
"In fact, you still have a little there on your cheek. You may want to clean that off before you go home. You know... to your husband."
Wendy's breath caught, her hand instinctively moved to her cheek. Her stomach tightened, bile filling her throat as she ran her fingers across the white sticky evidence of her betrayal and what she'd become. Her legs gave out and she fell onto the cool tile floor, arms resting on her knees as she buried her head in them.
"Oh God," she sobbed, no longer able to stifle the cries from echoing down the empty hallway. "I'm so... Jon's going to... Oh God, how do I explain this to Jon?" She barely got the words out. Each one rolling into the next as she tried and failed to control her breathing.
The fury in Ava melted away slowly as she watched her friend crumble onto the floor. This must have been what it was like for Lisa. That moment of cold, hard reality before it all came crashing down. She knelt beside her friend, gripping her shoulder in a show of solidarity.
"I know this wasn't completely your fault," she whispered. "But, let me help you. You've got to tell Marcus what's going on. We can still make this right."
"It was all because of that stupid Christmas party," Wendy choked out, her voice thick with tears. "That stupid IOU that you..." she stopped herself. "When the gifts got mixed up Michael used it to tease me and then..."
"Wendy, how long has this been going on?"
"New Orleans." She had to open her eyes, afraid of how her body would react if she relived those thoughts. "But it's been building for awhile." Wendy wiped her eyes. "I just got so caught up in the moment, the power."
Ava nodded, unsure of how to respond. It made sense. There was no way someone like Michael could land a girl like Wendy, or even Lisa for that matter. He must have used his position for leverage, promised them the world. Suddenly Wendy's promotion made more sense.
"That's the look I was trying to avoid," Wendy said quietly.
"What look?"
"The one that says I didn't earn my promotion. That I'm only here because... fuck" She pressed her fingers into the palm of her hand until it hurt. "You should have seen it, Ava. When I walked into that conference room in New Orleans no one could take their eyes off me. I had them eating out of the palm of my hand." She paused, looking up at Ava through glassy eyes. "I know what you're thinking. That Michael had me dress like some whore. Some bimbo to parade around so he could make a sale."
"Well, didn't he?"
Wendy licked her lips, the tingle of something other than anger and embarrassment building inside her. "No," she said flatly. "I held all the cards. I made the pitch. For twenty minutes, I wasn't just some marketing specialist they were humoring. I was the one calling the shots."
"Those were just lies he was telling you, Wendy." Ava rubbed her arm trying to be comforting. "Michael played you he was calling all the shots. You never had any real power. He used you."
She didn't get it. Of course, she didn't. Ava couldn't possibly understand what she was trying to say. "You don't get it," she tried again. "Jack loved my presentation. He was engaged, he asked questions. He saw me as an equal."
Ava's expression tightened. "So that's it then? All of this, debasing yourself, that's all in the name of feeling important?"
Wendy shook her head. She still didn't see it. She was never given the chance to lead anything more than a social media campaign. "You know what Jon said to me when I told him I nailed the Fireball presentation?"
Ava raised an eyebrow.
"He wanted to help me with the statistical analysis. He couldn't even be bothered to tell me good job."
"Jon's just—"
"I know what Jon is," Wendy snapped before taking a break to calm herself. "He's loving, and smart, and supportive. But he also treats me like I'm some fragile doll that will break." There was a pause in the conversation, a silence that seemed to widen the gap between them. "Michael doesn't do that. He may be crude and harsh but he also hands me million-dollar campaigns with the expectation to deliver."
"Because he's using you." Ava's voice cracked with frustration.
"Maybe he is," she finally admitted, pressing her palms into her hands. "Or maybe I'm using him. Maybe I'm taking exactly what I want and finally playing the same game as everyone else."
"You can't be serious." Ava's voice rose, and she got to her feet. "You sound just like him you know."
Wendy didn't answer, but a strange sense of pride shot through her body.
"So what happens when Jon finds out? When all of this comes out and you lose whatever false sense of importance you think you have?"
"I... I honestly hadn't considered that," Wendy answered honestly. "I'd rather that not happen, but I guess that isn't an option anymore, is it?"
"You have until tomorrow morning." Ava's voice was final. "If you don't tell him, I will."
"Ava please." Panic started to creep back into Wendy's voice. "I thought we were friends."
"We are. That's why I'm doing this." Ava turned and walked down the hallway.
Wendy watched her friend disappear around the corner, leaving her alone in the hallway with the weight of tomorrow's deadline pressing down on her chest. Why couldn't she just trust Wendy to do what she knew was best? Why was she so concerned with Wendy's professional success all of the sudden?
***
The car ride home was torture for Wendy. Every stoplight gave her time to reflect on her decisions. How they not only affected her, but Jon. The tears had stopped flowing by the time she made it into her neighborhood, replaced by anger, first targeted at Michael, then Ava, and finally, herself. She was finally getting recognition, making a name for herself at the company, only to have it all come crashing down before she really had a chance to prove just how far she could go.
She pulled into the driveway, her headlights shining into the kitchen window where Jon busied himself with what she assumed was dinner. She took a breath, this wasn't about her, or even her career. This was about Jon and finding a way to break the news to him that wouldn't completely crush him. She didn't mean for him to get caught up in this. This wasn't supposed to happen. She thought she could keep her two lives separate. Gold dress Wendy was the one calling the shots in the office. She was the master manipulator, the one using her sexuality to advance her career. All she wanted to do was come home and hide that persona away in the deepest, darkest, corner of her soul. To be the loving wife Jon deserved.
Dread stirred in her stomach, her fingers twirling her wedding ring unconsciously. The anger was back, pressing on her shoulders as she got out of the car. Why should she have to choose between the version of herself that felt powerful and the man she loved?
"You're home early," Jon called from the kitchen, a dish towel slung over his shoulder. "Dinner still has another ten minutes or so. How was the meeting?"
"It was um... productive," her hand twitched with anxious energy. "I got him to agree to keep me on point for the Fireball stuff. No more of this team stuff."
Jon's shoulders sagged. It was only then she realized even that would have an effect on him. How could she be so selfish? "I mean... I'll still use you for the numbers and stuff, babe. I just... this project is important to me you know? It's my baby."
She walked into the kitchen wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his muscular back. She wished she could lock in this instant forever, before she blew it all up. "What's all this about, anyway?"
"I just want to show you how proud of you I am." The comment took the breath from Wendy, guilt starting to strangle her. "I know we just went out to Lucky's, but I thought I'd make the porkchops you like."
Wendy chewed on her bottom lip, taking a step back. "Listen, about my meeting with Michael. There's something—"
"Actually," he interrupted, flipping the meat, the sound of grease sizzling filled the air. "before we get into anything heavy, can we just... eat first? I feel like we haven't had a normal evening together in weeks."
The request was reasonable, even sweet. But it also meant delaying the inevitable conversation that would end everything. She made her way to the fridge, pulling out the wine. She took a large sip, allowing the alcohol burn away some of her guilt.
"Of course."
Dinner was delicious, and it helped calm Wendy's nerves. She took another drink of wine, placing her hand on Jon's. "I love you. You know that, right?"
Jon looked at her, his mind working overtime to figure out what had gotten into his wife. He took off his glasses, making him look at least ten years younger. "Of course. Why would you ask that?"
"I just..." she took the last drink of wine, pushing her chair out from behind her. "I haven't gotten the chance to show you just how much I appreciate you." She bit her lip seductively, her fingers sliding up Jon's bare arm. If Ava was going to blow up her marriage she could at least have one final act of love and intimacy with her husband.
She stood behind him, running her nails across his chest, her lips on his neck. "I need to take a quick shower," she whispered, her teeth grazing his ear. "But in fifteen minutes I expect you in my bed, naked and ready." She pushed her hands lower on his abdomen causing him to nearly jump from his chair.
"You'll get no arguments from me," he said, laughing as he turned his head to kiss her.
Wendy nearly fell to the floor she pulled back so fast, leaving Jon a little hurt and confused. "I just... garlic breath. I want tonight to be sexy. Let me brush my teeth first."
"Fifteen minutes," he said, a look of contentment on his face, despite the fact that Wendy refused his kiss.
In the shower, Wendy spent extra time scrubbing her face. She'd done her best to wipe off the evidence in the bathroom at work, but now she was worried about smelling different. She wanted every part of tonight to be about Jon's enjoyment, not degrading him by making him smell another man's...
Once out, she brushed her teeth, twice then applied the lotion that Jon loved. By the time she was through there was no trace of the unspeakable things that she... that gold dress Wendy, had done. If this was going to be their last night together she was going to make it perfect. She owed Jon that much.
When she emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, wearing nothing but a towel and a smile, she found Jon sprawled across their bed wearing only a pair of boxers, snoring softly.
For a moment, she just stared at him. Really? She'd practically thrown herself at him, promised him a night to remember, and he'd fallen asleep on her?
Resentment flared in her chest as she dropped her towel for an audience of zero. She'd spent twenty minutes preparing herself like some kind of offering, and for what? So Jon could pass out fully clothed? When had she become so easy to ignore?
As she walked toward her dresser to find a nightgown, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her chest stood high and proud, defying gravity despite its size. The whisper in the back of her mind came despite herself. This was exactly the kind of body that made men like Jack and Brian lose their train of thought. Real men with power would never let such perfection go to waste. Her freshly shaved sex glistened in the reflection, now wasted because Jon had taken her for granted.
Wendy shook her head, trying to dismiss the intrusive thoughts, but they persisted. If Michael had been here, there was no doubt he'd be eagerly waiting for her to appear from the bathroom, his impressive cock hanging free, daring her to step closer and—
"No!," she cried out a little too loud. Jon stirred on the bed, but didn't wake up. Christ, what was wrong with her? She was standing naked in her bedroom fantasizing about another man while her husband slept ten feet away. This wasn't about Michael. Jon had made her favorite dinner, opened wine, tried to celebrate her success. He was tired. It was late. She was being unfair.
Besides, wasn't this better? Now she had until morning to figure out how to tell him. Time to prepare, to find the right words. Maybe fate was giving her one more night of normalcy before everything fell apart.
She pulled on her nightgown and slipped into bed beside him, laying her head on his chest and listening to the soft patter of his heart as she drifted off to sleep. Tomorrow she would confess everything. Tomorrow she would face the consequences.
But, at least for now, she got one more night to sleep in the same bed as her husband.
Wendy woke up the next morning to an empty bed. For a moment, her heartrate spiked and she feared Jon had somehow already found out and left. However, the smell of fresh coffee floating in from the kitchen brought her back to reality. Jon had simply woken up before her. She took a deep breath, letting her legs hang off the bed, before heading toward the kitchen.
Today was the day.
When she got there, Jon was already sitting at the table, sipping his coffee, or rather his creamer with a hint of coffee, while scrolling through his phone.
"Sorry about last night," he said, as she padded toward the counter. "I guess the wine hit me harder than I thought."
"It's fine," she said, reaching for a cup. He was always so quick to apologize. Even when he didn't fully understand what he did wrong he would say how sorry he was. He really was a good man who didn't deserve any of this. "But we should probably talk. We never got a chance last night." She took a deep breath. "Jon, Michael... No, I mean, I—"
He squinted, confused about where exactly this was going. His gaze going back to his phone as it buzzed softly in his hand. "Oh my God!"
Wendy gave him a confused look, setting her coffee down at the table next to him.
"Marcus and Ava..." He paused, continuing to read the email. "Is this what you were trying to tell me?"
The color drained from Wendy's face. Had Ava already reached out? Did she go to Marcus last night and now he was contacting Jon? She grabbed his forearm, tears already beginning to well in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Jon. I truly am. I got so caught up with the Fireball stuff and then last night I saw Ava and..."
"And you saw the two of them together? Jesus Wendy, I'm so sorry you had to see that. You had no idea before?"
The coffee mug slipped from Wendy's grasp, spilling across the kitchen table. "I... what?" She couldn't understand what Jon was saying. It almost sounded like he thought Ava and Marcus were having an affair, but that didn't make sense, did it? She could see Jon's lips moving, but she couldn't hear anything past the roaring in her ears.
"It's going to be okay," she finally heard, as Jon stood and wrapped his arms around her. "I just... I can't believe it. I know most marriages, 41 percent, end in divorce. But I just never thought Marcus was the type. Poor Sandra."
Wendy shook against Jon's chest. She still had no idea what was going on, it was all happening too fast to process. She waited until he left the room, soppy paper towels in his hand, to grab her phone and check her email. What she found left her breathless and shaking.
_It has come to my attention that an inappropriate relationship has formed between one of our executives and an employee. As you all know, I have a zero tolerance policy when it comes to this type of behavior. I had met with the executive prior and warned them of the consequences of their behavior. Unfortunately, it's come to my attention that the relationship continued despite my warning and I had no choice but to terminate all parties involved.
_Effective immediately, Marcus Campbell and Ava Wright are no longer employees of The Buckeye Branding Company.
_Going forward, Michael Reynolds will be the new Vice President of Operations. Michael, along with Wendy Taylor, has done a masterful job leading the largest marketing campaign in company history. I have no doubt he will continue to succeed and grow in his new role.
_There will be a company party at the Marriott Friday evening to celebrate Michael's promotion and allow the team time to get over the shock of this announcement.
Brian
Wendy blinked, reading the email for a second and then a third time. Marcus and Ava had been terminated. Michael had been promoted? "What did he do?" she whispered to herself, knowing that somehow Michael had a hand in it. Not only did he get them fired, but then he got himself promoted on top of it?
She wanted to be disgusted. Michael had manipulated everyone, cost people their jobs, their lives. Ava would lose her apartment, her husband, probably have to move back with her parents. Marcus had a family - Sandra, the kids. How would they explain this to their children?
The guilt twisted in her stomach like a knife, but beneath it... relief. Shameful, terrible relief that made her hate herself even as she felt it. With Ava gone, she'd have no way to tell Jon what she saw. Even if she reached out to him, Jon would never believe her now.
Wendy pressed her palms against her eyes, trying to push away the thought. These were her friends, or had been. They didn't deserve this. But the anxiety she'd felt for the last twelve hours was slowly fading away, replaced by a warmth that she was starting to get far too familiar with.
She stood from the table, her breathing back under control. She needed to get ready for work.
***
Wendy stared out the car window, watching trees pass by in a blur of lights as she tried to process the last 12 hours of her life. After reading the email from Brian for a fourth time, she'd decided to wear a cream colored maxi dress that brushed the floor as she walked. It was more inline with the more conservative version of herself, and that was exactly what she needed to portray walking into the office today knowing the rumor mill would be in full effect. However, there was a voice that she couldn't quiet. One that gave her a rush, and made her keep the top two buttons of the dress unfastened. It was far from the brazen display gold dress Wendy was used to, but it was a needed compromise.
"You look like you're on another planet," Jon said, breaking her thought and putting his hand on her knee. She placed her hand on top of his, the diamond of her ring catching the light and her attention. She turned her hand from side to side examining it to ensure she had properly scrubbed off any hint of last night.
Jon saw the way she was examining her ring and cast her a reassuring smile. "It's going to be okay. We're not them."
"I... yeah, I know." She squeezed his hand, letting out a silent sigh as she realized why he was saying that. "It's just... I still can't believe it." It wasn't a lie, they just weren't quite talking about the same thing.
"Me too. I sent Marcus a text. I thought he could—"
"You what?" Wendy nearly ripped her hand away, her pulse sky rocking.
"I sent Marcus a text. I know he messed up, but he's been a mentor to me for so long. I want him to know he still has a friend."
"Jon, you can't," she said, before she could really process what she was saying. "People who were caught cheating will say anything to save face. You never know what they'll make up." It suddenly felt too hot in the car, she was suffocating. She cracked the car window and an old fast food napkin took flight from the center console and escaped out the window.
"I guess you're right," Jon said, after taking a minute to think about it. "I hadn't considered that. You're always so much better at these social situations than I am."
She gave a nervous laugh, setting her head back on the seat as she tried not to hyperventilate.
As expected, The Buckeye Building was in full gossip mode as Wendy stepped off the elevator. Clusters of employees were gathered around cubicles, all gravitating toward their given cliques. All talking in hushed tones no doubt about the latest bombshell email. She tried her best to make it through the whispers, but it was impossible not to hear clipped conversations.
"—Marcus didn't seem the type—"
"—Was she really so desperate to advance that—"
"—I'm not surprised, did you see the two of them—"
Each step she took felt like she was getting closer to her own execution, like someone would eventually put together the pieces that were missing. How could they not see that Michael had been the one to orchestrate this? Surely someone would eventually stop her and accuse her of all the things that were being pinned on two innocent people.
But as she rounded the corner away from the mass of humanity, the accusations never came. No one looked at her differently. No one suspected a thing. They all just took the accusation at face value while she... Wendy stopped cold as she passed the last row of cubicles. The row where she and Ava spent years forming a friendship.
Ava's desk sat stripped bare, the personal touches that had made it uniquely hers already erased. Gone were the framed photos of her and David, the succulent she'd named Fernando, the coffee mug that read "World's Okayest Wife." The cleaning crew had been thorough, leaving behind only generic office furniture and the ghost of friendships past.
Wendy sank into Ava's chair, running her fingers along the desk's edge. How many lunches had they shared here? How many whispered conversations about office politics, dating disasters, career frustrations?
Wendy chewed on the inside of her cheek trying to fight back tears. Sure, her friendship with Ava had been strained recently. Wendy had gotten busy with her new promotion and Ava was pushing so hard too... no, that wasn't fair. Ava was doing what any good friend would have done. She was trying to protect Wendy, and now what did she have to show for it? Just another empty desk waiting for the next occupant. She felt sick, like the guilt was eating her from the inside out. She couldn't take this. She needed to come clean. To tell Brian, tell Jon. Let everyone know that she was the guilty party, not Ava.
But what if she was wrong? What if this wasn't Michael's doing? She still hadn't had a chance to confront him. And after all, if there was any question about his involvement then Brian wouldn't have promoted him so quickly.
Maybe Marcus and Ava really had been having an affair. People could hide things, couldn't they? Keep secrets that would shock those closest to them. After all, wasn't she living proof of that? Of course, deep down she knew that wasn't true, but it was enough to rationalize her decision to keep quiet.
"Crazy about Marcus and Ava, right?"
Wendy looked up to find Jenny hovering beside the desk, a look of genuine sympathy on her face. She noticed the way that Jenny's dress clung to her body in just the right places. It was almost disgusting how hard the younger woman was trying to use her body to get ahead.
"I had no idea they were... you know." Jenny sounded shocked, but her eyes seemed to sparkle with fascination. "But I guess you never really know people, right?"
Something about Jenny made Wendy's skin crawl, but she couldn't pinpoint why. Perhaps it was because right now she was interrupting a private moment Wendy was having. Or, maybe it was the way she seemed to be talking about Ava like she knew her at all.
"Anyway, since Ava's gone, I was wondering if maybe I could help with some of the social media campaigns? You are a bit of a legend around here with the way you've handled that account. I have some ideas that Michael really seemed to respond to. I thought they could complement your Fireball strategy."
The way she pivoted from fake sympathy to opportunity was almost staggering. Wendy couldn't believe the audacity. Her chest tightened, the moment to mourn her friend having clearly passed.
"I'm not sure what's happening with campaign redistribution yet," Wendy said, her tone colder than she'd realized. "You'll need to wait until I have time to coordinate all of that with Michael."
"Of course! I really appreciate the chance. You two work so closely together. It would be an honor."
Perhaps the wording was meant to be innocent, but Wendy couldn't help but feel territorial at the comment. "I need to get back to work," she said, leaving Jenny standing at the empty desk looking confused.
As she hurried toward her office, irritation burned through her body. Jenny hadn't earned the right to step into Ava's role. Hadn't put in the years of hard work, the late-night meetings, the shared struggles. Some people just expected opportunities to be handed to them, thought they could swoop in and claim what others had built.
She made a mental note to talk to Michael about Jenny's involvement as she finally made it to her office. Jenny hadn't earned her seat at the table yet, it didn't seem right that she felt like she could just approach Wendy with campaign ideas.
Michael, she'd almost forgotten about him. He wasn't in his office when she walked by. She needed to talk to him, to figure out exactly what happened with Ava and Marcus.
Before she could dwell on it any longer, she opened her inbox to see an email from Jack Peterson. A smile tugged on her lips, at least Michael had followed through with his word to keep her involved in the project.
Wendy - Michael mentioned you were the brains behind revised projects. I just got back from Broadway and the reception to our premium blend was nothing short of amazing. I haven't seen the numbers yet, but I expect them to be even better than what you projected. Your forward thinking and ability to make bold decisions is nothing short of fascinating. I look forward to our continued success together. Can't wait to have you and Michael back in New Orleans so we can have a proper celebration. - Jack
The rush was back, hitting her system like the best kind of drug. The CEO of a multinational company just called her fascinating. Michael had once again given her credit on their work on the Fireball case and now the recognition that came with being great at her job made her forget all about her guilt over Ava.
She spent the rest of the day absorbed in work, trying her best to avoid Ava's desk entirely. She still needed to talk to Michael, to understand exactly what happened last night after she left. But, every time she walked by he was in a closed door meeting with Brian. Probably going over his new role as Vice President. Heat pooled in Wendy's stomach as she considered the powerplay Michael must have made in order to secure the position. Here she was belittling Jenny for trying to take Ava's lesser role, while Michael had not only done the same thing but most likely played a part in Marcus's downfall. Why wasn't she more disgusted by that?
At four-thirty, Michael finally emerged from Brian's office. Wendy had been walking by on her way to the restroom when the door opened. She gasped as he emerged, he looked taller more... put together? Even from the other side of the hallway she could feel his gaze on her, the hungry glare he always seemed to have when he looked at her.
"Wendy," he called from the other side of the hall, making her blush for reason unknown to her. "Walk with me. We have some things to discuss."
His words carried more weight now, his tone slightly more commanding than it had been in the past. How was Michael able to make himself seem more magnetic at a time like this, when Wendy was struggling to keep it all together? She fell into quick lockstep with him, despite every instinct screaming warnings, her gaze trained on her feet as they moved toward his former office. Marcus and Ava's absence grew larger with each step. No one was coming to save her.
***
The office felt smaller now, despite the fact that most of Michael's personal belongings had already been moved. The office was bare, but in desperate need of a wipe down. Outlines of dust scattered the room where pictures once stood. The carpet was discolored in spots, in desperate need of a steam.
"I assume you've seen the email, and heard about my promotion?" Michael pushed the door behind her, leaving it cracked just enough to make Wendy feel slightly more at ease. He stood in front of her, arms crossed looking more authoritative than she'd seen in awhile.
"I did." She let out the breath she was holding, reminding herself that she didn't need to feel so on edge, not for professional reasons, anyway "What the hell happened, Michael? How did—"
Michael took a step back, giving Wendy the space she needed to breathe. His face twisted into a smile, a self-satisfied grin he couldn't control, as he considered how much to tell her. "Those two were relentless." He took another half step backward, perching on the side of the desk. "They've been looking for reasons to sabotage us from day one. Surely you saw the way Marcus would pop in here every chance he got. How him and Ava would have secret meetings after they saw us together."
Wendy opened her mouth to say something, then paused. Marcus had told her more than once that he was there to talk when she was ready. Ava had practically blown up her phone when she went to New Orleans. But that was because they were trying to help her, because they knew the type of person Michael was... wasn't it?
"Sabotage us how? Ava was my friend, Michael. She wouldn't have done anything to hurt me."
Michael laughed. "Your friend? She threatened to blow up your marriage, your career. And Marcus..." Michael rolled his eyes like he was the most obvious traitor of all. "He tried to hamstring us every step of the way. You saw how hard he pushed to get Jon on the team, because he thought you couldn't handle it yourself. I had to book the New Orleans trip at the last minute because I knew he was waiting in the shadows to shut it down. We would have never gotten the ball rolling if you weren't there in person to dazzle Jack."
He could see Wendy process the information, looking at the events through a different lens. He softened his tone. She just needed one more gentle nudge. "They were trying to take us down, Wendy." He tried to summon tears, but not even he was that good. "Everything we worked so hard to achieve. All the sacrifice you made. They wanted to destroy it all."
Wendy leaned back against the wall. The room was spinning. She suddenly felt hot. Could what Michael was saying be true? Had she misread their kindness? She didn't think so, but suddenly she wasn't so sure.
Her conversation with Ava in the break room came flooding back. "Marcus and I talked to Lisa," she'd said with such conviction. "She told us about Michael." But where was Lisa now? If she really had this smoking gun evidence, this damning testimony about Michael's behavior, why hadn't she come forward? Why did she suddenly drop the entire thing the second Wendy didn't play along? She could have gone straight to Brian, had Lisa come in and tell her story.
Unless... Wendy's stomach twisted, her knees buckled. Ava had sounded so sure about Lisa, but when push came to shove and Wendy didn't immediately accuse Michael, Lisa was nowhere to be found. Had the whole thing been a fabrication? A convenient story designed to make Wendy doubt herself, doubt her choices?
"But, the rumors about them... those aren't true, are they?"
Michael pushed off the desk, seeing the way Wendy's shoulders sagged slightly. She didn't believe him, not completely. But it was enough of an opening. "Perception is reality. They were seen leaving together, caught in what appeared to be compromising positions. Who knows what else was going on behind closed doors?" He put his arm on the wall near Wendy's head. "Don't you get it? I was protecting you. Doing what any good leader would do."
"But you lied." She watched his face wanting to see if he would flinch at the accusation.
"No." His eyes hardened with conviction. "I did what needed to be done. While those two played by the rules, sitting back and waiting to see exactly how we would fall, I made my own rules. Power plays they couldn't possibly understand."
Wendy's hand shot to her mouth as the pieces began to click in place. Michael's promotion wasn't a coincidence, he planned the whole thing. Anger began to swell in her chest. This was all just a game to him where she'd been a pawn. Was she really that disposable?
"You orchestrated all of this." Her eyes went wide with the realization, her hands clenching into fists. "You used me." The words came out flat, matter-of-fact rather than accusatory.
Michael's expression shifted, genuine surprise flickering across his features before settling into confusion. "Used you?" He stepped closer, forcing her to crane her neck to maintain eye contact. "Wendy, do you feel used? I've given you everything you wanted. People know who you are now. People respect you. Hell, I think Jenny is actually afraid of you."
A smirk appeared on her face before she could help it. He was right, he had given her everything she wanted. She certainly didn't feel like a victim. In fact, hearing it all listed out like that for her gave her a strange, almost dark, satisfaction. Was Jenny really scared of her? Part of her wanted to reach out, to let her know she could be an ally if Jenny just wouldn't come on so strong, but a darker part burned with delight hearing the news.
He was right, of course he was. She didn't feel used. She felt... elevated. Seen. The woman who'd gained Jack Peterson's respect, who'd made Brian stumble over his words, that wasn't a victim. That was someone who'd learned to wield power.
Their stock was rising because of their work on Fireball, because of bold decisions while others clung to safe mediocrity. Marcus and Ava had seen their meteoritic rise and gotten jealous, tried to tear it all down. Maybe the methods were harsh, but hadn't they forced Michael's hand?
"You don't feel used," Michael continued, reading her silence perfectly. "You feel alive." He put his hands on her arms, making Wendy gasp as electric energy passed through them like they were wielding magic. "You finally feel like the woman you were always meant to be. The woman I knew you could be."
Before she realized it, Wendy was backing into the chair on the other side of the desk. Her legs brushing against the cool leather. She sank into the seat, suddenly looking over the room from a perspective she'd never had.
"As new VP, I'm going to need a right hand." Michael's presence loomed behind her, his reflection visible in the darkened computer monitor. "A director I can trust. Someone who isn't afraid to get a little... dirty when the time calls for it."
His hands settled on her shoulders, causing her to close her eyes as the familiar warmth passed through her body. Director. The word held such power. Running an entire department, strategic meetings she could shape, the picture of a woman who could make decisions instead of just implementing someone else's vision.
"I..." she squirmed in the chair, her excitement growing. "I only just got this promotion. I'm not ready for director yet. Am I?" Despite her lack of confidence, she allowed herself to be seduced by the idea of it. She spun the chair, looking out past the cracked door at the people walking by. She saw them walking into her office asking her suggestions on campaign slogans. For permission to run with a campaign plan she'd spent all night crafting. The fire building in her core made her breath catch as Michael's fingers traced her collarbone. "What would people say? What would they think?"
His grip tightened as he spun the chair around, turning Wendy so he could face her. The sudden rotation left her dizzy, disoriented by the shift in perspective.
"You look good in that chair, Wendy." His eyes swept over her, making her blush. "It suits you."
She watched his eyes fall to her chest, something that used to make her want to run in disgust. But now, sitting in this chair, envisioning herself as the woman who would occupy it, she felt a familiar thrill. The same rush she'd experienced in New Orleans when Jack Peterson's attention had wavered, when she'd leaned forward and watched him stumble over his words. This was what power looked like. Men losing focus, forgetting their carefully thought out sentences, becoming distracted by what she chose to reveal.
She smiled at her decision to leave a button or two undone, no longer an accident but a calculated choice. "Up here," she said, playfully. She placed her fingers under his chin, tilting his head to meet her gaze.
The hunger in his eyes didn't intimidate her anymore. If anything, it validated her. This was her effect, her influence. He was putty in her hands just like Jack, and Brian, and anyone else she decided. The director's chair beneath her felt less like furniture and more like a throne.
She pulled her hand away slowly, savoring the moment of control before allowing him to continue.
He licked his lips before continuing. "If you keep delivering on the Fireball account, people will only ask why I didn't promote you sooner." Michael's voice carried the seductive weight of prophecy. "In a couple months max you'll be in this chair permanently, and they will all respect you. Besides, even if you don't..."
He dropped to his knees before the chair, placing his hands on her legs with deliberate intimacy. Panic shot through Wendy as she craned her neck to look at the partly open door. If someone were to come in now they may see him. She turned back to scold him, but stopped. The position they were in transformed the office into what felt like a throne room. Wendy sat deeper into the chair where power was both given and taken. Not a pawn, a queen.
Michael's hands found their way under Wendy's dress before she could stop him. His digits pressed against the smooth flesh of her calf. "You don't need their permission, or even their respect, because you make your own rules." He massaged her calf with a sort of tenderness before sliding to her knee. "People like us, Wendy. We take what we want. We don't care about office norms or rumors." He squeezed her knee making her eyes slip shut. "And we sure as hell don't feel sorry about the choices we make to get to the top."
The cool air of the AC brushed against her leg and she opened her eyes to see that Michael had raised her dress as he worked his way up her leg. She placed her hand on his shoulder pausing him. She could hear the steps of people as they walked by the door. The added danger suddenly adding to the thrill of it all. When she didn't apply additional pressure, Michael bent forward placing soft kisses on her knee, his tongue sliding up her already wet thigh.
"Every major decision will have to go through you," he whispered, just as Wendy, almost instinctively, parted her legs. "The only whispers you'll hear will be about how Wendy Taylor is the most badass director this place had ever seen."
"Michael, what are you...the door..."
He silenced her with another kiss on her thigh, almost mocking in its tenderness. His nose grazed the front of her soaked panties, dragging across her lips as he lingered there. He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of her arousal... of his victory. The sound alone was obscene, primal. She gasped, she should have been disgusted. Creeped out. No one had ever smelled her like that before, not even Jon. It was too much, too intimate… too filthy. And yet, her body didn’t recoil, it exploded.
A sharp, involuntary sigh escaped her lips, laced with heat and shame. Something inside her snapped. She wasn’t saying no. She wasn’t pushing him away. Her mind still screamed this was wrong, but her thighs were parting wider.
Michael was thrilled by her response. She was no longer saying "no" or "this isn't right", instead she was a willing participant only worried about who was going to see them not if she was going to let him... checkmate.
"I told you before," he murmured, his breath hot against the thin fabric clinging to her, causing her to shiver. "The next time I tasted you would be straight from the source."
"Ohhhh f-fffuck," Wendy moaned, her hands sliding up to Michael's hair, tangling her fingers in it. Her eyes slipped closed again, waiting... anticipating the moment Michael's tongue would slip across her most sensitive area.
"Tell me you want it," he said softly, his voice muffled by Wendy's thighs.
Her eyes snapped open. Michael's head was still buried between her legs, his hands on her hips to control her movement. Someone had stopped just outside the office door. A hushed conversation that she couldn't focus on enough to know what was being said or by who. All she knew was that they were just fifteen feet away from her. If they were to open the door, or even just turn enough to see through the crack they would see her sitting in the directors chair, her dress pulled up above her knees. Would they be able to see Michael too?
"Tell me," he said again, his teeth scraping against the inside of her thigh.
"Ahhh," she cried out, a little too loud for her own liking. Her hands flew to her mouth, giving Michael free reign, as her eyes once again fluttered closed..
"I... I want it," she finally admitted. Although, as she pulled Michael's head closer to its target she had a hard time knowing exactly what it was she just admitted to.
Michael didn't wait for another command. The second the confession left her lips he was on her. He pushed the wet fabric of her panties to the side, taking only a second to admire the way her bald sex glistened with need. Her lips pressed together tightly, begging to be split.
The first flick of his tongue sent a full body tremor through Wendy. She bit down on her knuckle terrified that someone would hear her. Her hips immediately rose to greet his mouth, desperate for more contact. His thick tongue slid across her folds at a torturous pace, like he was savoring the taste of her. She spread her legs as wide as they would go, all pretense gone as his tongue circled her swollen nub.
"Mmmnnngh," Wendy whined, her words incoherent, muffled by the way she bit down on her own hand. She couldn't believe this was happening. The office wasn't even completely empty yet and she was already hooking her legs around the wide frame of Michael.
Before she could chastise herself too much, Michael slurped greedily at her clit, making her buck against his face.
"Mmmm fuuuck," she cried out, her hands moving from her mouth to the back of his salt-and-pepper hair. She looked back at the door, relief passing over her as she realized whoever was out there was now gone.
Michael must have seen her reaction, because at the same time he pushed a finger deep inside Wendy's core, adding to the already overwhelming sensation of his tongue.
"That's... oh God... Too much someone will hear." Despite her pleads, Wendy's knuckles were white she was holding his head so tight. She rotated her hips, her body burning with need.
"So much sweeter, from the source," Michael chuckled, breaking free of her death grip to come up for air. Wendy's face burned with shame, her juices were smeared across Michael's face making it look like he'd just gone for a swim. "I'm going to need this sweet treat every day."
"No... this has to be the last.... fffffuck." Michael added a second finger, curling them upward enough to make her legs shake.
"Stop pretending Wendy. By the looks of it, you're getting off on this more than I am."
"That not... Uuuugggghhhn." Michael dove back in, his fat tongue joining his fingers as he pushed it past her walls. He waited for her hips to slide back down onto the chair before slowly moving his tongue up her folds, teasing her clit with it.
"Tell me you don't love this. That you're not about to explode all over my face."
Wendy didn't answer. She couldn't. Her body was vibrating with tension, the kind that came from knowing she’d already fallen off the edge, but still pretending she hadn't jumped.
Michael curled his fingers again, this time finding that perfect spot inside her, the one that made her whine with need. His tongue danced over her clit at the same time, quick flicks alternating with deep sucks that left her gasping.
"Say it," he said into her skin. "Say you're about to cum all over my face."
She shook her head, a weak, useless gesture. Her fingers tightened in his hair.
"Say it, Wendy. Admit that no one has ever made you feel this good, not even Jon."
"I—" she started, the word trembling on her lips. Her thighs were clamping around his head, her body betraying her. She couldn't belittle Jon. That part of her life was separate. She grinded against Michael's face, wanting desperately to believe her own lies. She didn't want to hurt Jon.
His lips created a vacuum around her clit, sucking it into his mouth as his fingers pitoned into her like a real life cock. "Oh God, Fuck I'm gonna..."
She moaned shamelessly, her voice echoing off the office walls no longer worried about the dangers that may cause. Her head lolled back, eyes rolling shut as Michael devoured her with pure, obscene focus. She knew she was a goner, her body was past the point of no return. The rhythm of his tongue matched the curl of his fingers, building her back up with dizzying precision.
"You gonna come on my face, Wendy?" he asked between strokes. "Let go right here? Legs open, pussy dripping down my chin? Mark your territory?"
"Michael!" she hissed, scandalized, but her hips lifted again, chasing the release he was so wickedly coaxing out of her. She was suddenly very aware of the cool leather seat on her legs. Her butt slipped across the surface of it, her juices covering it... claiming it just as Michael had said.
"This is where you belong, Wendy." His mouth pressed against her slick heat as he spoke. "This is what you need." He pressed a third finger against her lips. It was too tight a fit to slip in, but just the pressure was enough to send Wendy into a frenzy.
She whimpered, a broken, hoarse sound. Her hips jerked as he sucked her clit again, harder this time, and her thighs clamped down on either side of his head like a vice. She wasn't even trying to stop herself anymore. All she could think about how how good it felt, and how close she was to exploding.
"Give it to me, Wendy. I want to feel you let go. To taste every last drop. To remind you no one can make you feel this good."
“Oh God,” she breathed. Her fingers tangled deeper into his hair, nails scraping his scalp. Her body was coiled tight, every muscle locked in place and trembling. She could feel it building, not just between her legs, but behind her eyes, at the base of her spine, spreading like fire through her belly.
Michael sensed it. Of course he did. He flattened his tongue and flicked faster, determined to give her the biggest orgasm of her life. "You’re gonna cum for me, Wendy," he murmured against her clit. "Not for Jon. Not for anyone else. Me."
That did it.
"Fuuuck, Oh God. Oh mmmm fuck." Her whole body tensed, if there was anyone within thirty feet of the office there was no way they didn't hear it. Her vision went white. Her thighs clamped around Michael’s head, trapping him there as her hips bucked uncontrollably. Her hands slid down to his shoulders, clutching at him like she might fall apart if she let go.
Michael didn't stop. He kept working her, riding out every pulse, licking and sucking her through the waves until her body sagged limp in the chair. Her legs twitched with aftershocks, her breath stuttered out of her lungs in shallow pants. Her head lolled to the side, hair stuck to her damp forehead.
"Delicious," Michael said, emerging from between her legs, wiping his face with the back of his hand. The smug look on his face should have sent Wendy into a fury, but she barely noticed, still trying to recover.
Her arms shook as she tried to sit up straight in the chair, pushing her dress back down over her legs. "Jesus Michael. That was reckless, and —"
"Fun?" Michael laughed, standing up straight and walking to the other side of the desk. He adjusted his tie, smoothing it down against his shirt. The casual gesture felt obscene after what had just transpired, like watching someone straighten their collar after committing murder.
"Before I go," he said, reaching into his shirt pocket. The familiar crinkle of paper made Wendy's stomach clench. He placed the IOU on the desk between them, the candy cane wrapping paper now wrinkled and worn from being folded and refolded so many times.
Wendy stared at it, confusion clouding her still-hazy mind. "What are you doing?"
"I don't need it anymore." He smiled down at her, still devouring her with his gaze. "Do whatever you want with it."
Her fingers twitched toward the paper, then pulled back. This was what she'd wanted, wasn't it? Freedom from his leverage?
"Why?"
Michael walked toward the door, his confidence both infuriating and causing the fire she just quenched to burn. "I think we both know why."
She snatched the paper, crushing it in her fist. Relief should have flooded through her. This was over. She could focus on the Fireball campaign and not worry about him being inappropriate or making dumb comments. So, why didn't she feel more relieved?
"Oh, before I forget," Michael paused at the door. "There's a company party Friday night. The Marriott downtown. To celebrate my promotion." His eyes held hers, that predatory gleam returning. "I can't wait to see you there to... celebrate."
Wendy laughed, she couldn't help it. "Michael, you just gave me the IOU. If that was your plan you should have waited. Do you not know how how these things work?" She crumpled the IOU in her hand, like it was the ultimate powerplay.
"I'm aware." His smile widened. "Make sure Jon comes too. I'm sure he'll enjoy seeing how far we've both... evolved."
After he left, Wendy sat alone in the empty office, the crushed paper warm in her palm. She should feel free. The chain was broken, the leverage gone. She smoothed out the wrinkled note, reading her own handwriting: One night of making your wildest dreams come true.
A bitter realization hit her, or maybe it was always there and she just refused to acknowledge it. Michael was right, he didn't need it. Maybe he never did. After all, it was just a silly piece of paper, a facade to trick herself into making the choices she wanted to make all along.
She could tell herself it was over. Destroy the note, avoid Michael, return to her safe life with Jon. But even as the thought formed, she knew it was a lie. The woman who'd sat in this chair, who'd claimed it in the most primal way possible, that woman wasn't going anywhere. Gold dress Wendy had tasted power, and she was hungry for more.
The IOU hadn't been a leash. It had been an excuse.
Her fingers found her wedding ring, spinning it in that familiar pattern. But even that couldn't calm the storm inside her. She had a taste of the good life. Of power, and respect. Michael had shown her how to tap into her potential in a way she'd never known possible. She loved Jon, she truly did. But she was addicted to the power Michael had shown her, had promised her.
Wendy Taylor. Director material. The woman who made her own rules.
She stood on shaky legs, tucking the IOU into her purse. Not because she needed to keep it, but because destroying it would mean admitting what she already knew. Michael owned her in ways that had nothing to do with paper promises.
Friday night at the Marriott. A celebration.