Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 78(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 78(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
* * *
Maybe tonight…
That’s the thought bouncing around my mind all day as I sweep, mop, dust, do dishes, laundry, change bedding, and even move some of Mr. Baxter’s old books from the basement to the attic. But as the day goes on and it’s nearing my time to go home, my optimism starts fading along with the sun.
With a heavy sigh, I trudge to the back washroom to scrub my hands and pack up my bag, when I hear the sound of footsteps behind me. I turn and see Mr. Baxter enter the room behind me, still wearing his suit from the office.
“Nothing like a hard day’s work, eh?” He smirks.
Like you’d know. That’s what I’d like to say. Mr. Baxter is somewhere in his mid-50s and hasn’t “worked” a day in his life. He’s one of the three sons of the Baxter family, one of those dynasty families like the Kennedys with so much money it’s not even funny. They own a few businesses but have people running them for them. Mr. Baxter likes to make an appearance every once in a while to pretend like he’s still in charge.
“You know it,” I reply, forcing a smile. I really don’t want to get into it with him. He’s always given me the creeps, and I try to avoid him as much as possible. Other girls who work here have told me he looks at me differently and I should try to get him to be my sugar-daddy, but even the thought of that with Mr. Baxter just sends shivers up my spine.
He walks up to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. I can smell the alcohol on him. “You know, out of all the girls who work here, you’re definitely my best.”
“Um…thank you,” I reply, quickly turning to my bag.
“Mmmm. You remind me of when I was young,” he chuckles, breathing alcohol fumes all over me. “My wife? She’s always reminding me of our age. Who wants a woman like that?”
Yeah, talk about uncomfortable. I opt for simply not responding to that one. I’m basically all packed up and zip my bag and lift it over my shoulder.
“Well, Mr. Baxter, I should be going—”
“I could make your life a whole lot easier.” He smiles. His eyes are glazed over and sweat is beading on his cheeks. “A lot easier…”
“Mr. Baxter—”
“All you have to do is make me feel like a younger man.” Before I can react, he takes me by the wrist and forces my hand between his legs.
The shock of the situation hits me so hard that I can’t even speak. I can’t even move.
Is this seriously happening!?
I know I should do something—stop this before it goes any further, but this man is my boss. It was nearly impossible to get this job, and I have absolutely nothing to fall back on. No friends, no relatives, no parents…
If I lose this, I’m lost.
“What’s going on here!?” Mrs. Baxter’s voice pierces the silence between us like a gunshot. A great sense of relief washes over me when I see Janice Baxter, Harold’s wife, standing at the door.
“Mrs. Baxter, I—”
“Trying to seduce my husband, are you?” she hisses, striding toward me like she’s ready to kill me, her eyes fierce and fiery.
“What? I…no! He—”
“Don’t even start with me!” she snaps, flashing a threatening finger in my face. “I’ve seen the way you look at him. Ever since you started working here!”
“She was coming on to me, baby,” Mr. Baxter says, slurring his words.
“Thought you could charm your way into his bank account, didn’t you, you little slut!?”
“No!” I protest, on the verge of a panic attack. “He came on to me!”
“Save it!” she laughs. “You’re finished!”
As it turns out, Mrs. Baxter is a lot stronger than she looks. She snatches me by the hair and drags me toward the back door as I scream in pain. The next thing I know, I’m being hurled out into the cold, evening air.
I tumble headfirst down the old, rickety back steps and land on my face in the dirt. My bag lands beside me, and I feel my phone beneath me, jabbing into my ribs.
“I ever see you back here again and you’re going to regret it,” she screams at me. “Oh, and don’t think about calling us for a reference!”
The door slams behind me.
I’m in such a state of shock that I can’t even cry as I pick myself up and brush the dirt off my clothes. Thankfully, my phone isn’t broken, but as I check the time, I see I only have five minutes to get down the hill and to the bus stop before the bus arrives, so I throw my bag over my shoulder and begin to run as I still try and process what just happened to me.