The Sandstone Affair (An Erotic Romance Novel) (20 page)

My heels click loudly on the tile floor of the
main lobby. The guard looks up and I nod at him, pointing to my shoes and
giving him a cheesy grin so he knows I’m not trying to break the sound barrier
on my way to the elevator. I wobble for a moment then gratefully find my feet
on solid ground as I hit the carpet in the elevator car. The shoes were Mark’s
idea. The whole outfit was put together by him, actually. A white blouse
buttoned down the front with an accentuated waist, conservative black skirt,
hose with garter belts and three inch pumps at a steep enough angle to give me
a nosebleed. My hair is down, falling softly on my shoulders. A scarf completes
the package.
I get off the elevator on the proper floor,
look for Mark but don’t see him. He wanted to be here to help me so he
pretended to go home at his usual time, and then drove a friend’s car back to
the office building. He’s supposed to be lurking somewhere around here.
However, unless he has mastered the art of invisibility, he’s not here. I put
off entering the door of Sandstone Ventures for as long as I can, but I
eventually get to the point where I can’t wait any longer.
The front office is dim, the light from the
building giving it a shadowy appearance. It looks like a ghost town. Mark said
when he left work Blake looked like the cat, preparing to meet the canary. My
stomach rumbles and churns as I envy any bird that could fly away from this. A
bright light comes from the left side down the hall. Blake’s office door is
open and he sits behind his desk, pretending to work, waiting for me.
I knock on the door jam and stand there, the
huge purse making me feel even more obvious and awkward. It only has a few
trinkets in it and the fake folder. I pretend it’s heavy so he won’t be
surprised when I set it down. Blake looks up, allowing a serpentine smile
spread across his lips.
“Miss Sharp, how good of you to come,” he says
with a fake air about him as thick as southern sweet tea. “I have longed to
speak with you again.”
“I’m just going to put this out there,” I say.
Mark said to pretend to be shaken and desperate but there really isn’t any
acting involved. This whole situation has my voice and body in tremors. “I
can’t lose Lynx. I can’t lose my job. It’s who I am. I’m here to ask you to
reconsider.”
“You’re here to do what?” he asks drawing out
each word.
“To ask you to reconsider closing my company.”

“To
ask
? Really?
Ask
? This time
tomorrow, the waiting period is over and since no judge has issued any kind of stay,
your company will be mine—lock, stock and stories. Your staff will be mine,
your computers will be mine, hell even the copy machine will be mine. All you
will have left is a fading memory of this monumental failure. And you’re here
to
ask
me to stop this?”
“I’m here‒um‒I’m here to beg you,”
I surrender breathlessly.
“Ah.” Blake leans back in his chair, sunning
himself in my humiliation. “That’s more like it.”
I drop my head, far heavier than my purse, as
my heart sinks. We aren’t going to fool him. He’s just playing with me like a
cat toy.
“But why would I entertain any thought of
helping you? What would it profit me?”
“You’d still have control of one of the
up-and-coming news magazines in New York. I have contacts, I have ability, I
can, well, I can be used to influence people who might not want to end up in
our pages, or to provide collateral for higher risks.” Putting Lynx out there
to be used as one of his bullying tools makes me feel as violated as the rest
of tonight’s agenda, but I have to keep him interested.
“So, you would be of use to me?” he asks, the
lecherous grin growing brighter.
“I would, yes.”
“Why would I believe you?”
“Because I keep my word. My word means
everything to me.”
“Really? Because when Sandstone gave you the
money to save your precious rag of a magazine you signed a contract saying you
would support and respect the owners of this firm. And then just a few weeks
ago you were in my hallway caterwauling like a mad woman, calling me all sorts
of names and physically assaulting me. Do you consider that keeping a promise?”
“No. I was upset. I am sorry for that. Very
sorry,” I say, swallowing the bile rising in my throat. I’m sorry I didn’t
flatten you on your ass you big windbag. I control myself and continue to play
the role of the contrite woman begging for a second chance.
“I’m supposed to believe you? I think you’ll
need to prove it,” he says rising from his chair. He walks over and motions me
to come forward. I am terrified he is going to kiss me, and if he does I might
vomit all over him. But he stops by the shelf where his folder is hidden. “Do
you know how you can prove it?”
“I think I have a good idea,” I reply staring
at the ground. I set the purse beside the bookcase and try to stand in some
kind of open posture.
“To be of use to me, you will have to be
totally used by me,” he chides getting closer to my body as my knees begin to
shake. “Are you ready to prove your usability?”
“Yes,” I mutter softly to the floor. I am
hoping this interview concludes soon before I lock my knees and pass out.
“You’re a whore, then?” he asks only two steps
away from me now as I back up against the bookshelf.
“Apparently so,” I answer dryly, my face
burning red, my eyes unable to look up from the carpet.
“Well, let’s see if you’re a good one,” he
chirps, grabbing me by the shoulder, sending shock waves through my body. I
start to pull against him but realize he’s not pushing me over a chair or
forcing me to the floor. He’s dragging me out of the office! I resist as much
as I can, leaning over the grab the purse but I can’t reach it.
“Wait, I—”
“Leave it here, you can come back for it
later,” Blake instructs. His voice gains a clarity, an urgency, it didn’t have
before. “Don’t want any purse-cam pictures walking out of the office. My
brother knows all about that little trick.”
Frantic, I look around. He’s got me by the arm
and is pulling me into the darkened hallway. I drag my feet.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen!
I look through the glass front of the office
hoping to see Mark standing there. I wave my arms, pretending to lose balance,
but all I can see is the light reflecting off the tiled floor of the outside
world.
“I prefer to test subjects in the conference
room,” Blake croons an explanation. “The chairs are more comfortable and the
room more suited for learning all your skills.”
“Please, I—I need to slow down,” I say
dragging my shoes against the carpet to force one to fall off. Thinking I can
stop him long enough to retrieve it. The shoe heel finally snaps causing me to
jostle as my other falls off.
“Leave them,” Blake instructs. It’s clear he’s
in charge now. Where the hell is Mark? I’m in trouble here. “You won’t need
shoes for what we’re going to do.”
“I’m, um, I’m not so sure—”
Either Blake doesn’t hear me or doesn’t care.
He pushes me into the conference room and closes the door behind him. I’m
trapped. I’m trapped in a room with a couch and big chairs and a table waist
high and a man who thinks I’ve given him the right to do what he wants. My
purse is gone, the folder is still hidden and I’m stuck in here with this
troll. Beads of sweat pour from my forehead as I stand, shoeless, shaking in
the center of the room.
Blake takes his hand and rubs the back of it
across my cheek, tracing my lips with his finger. I bite my bottom lip and try
to think of any plan that would stop this from happening.
“As I recall,” he drones, stepping back a
foot. “You were here to beg me for your company. Isn’t that right, whore?”
“Yes,” I say, a look of disgust and anger
crossing my red face. “I beg you to let me have Lynx back.”
“You’re not in the right position for begging,
are you?” he asks as I look confused, then places his hand on my shoulder and
presses downward. “Oh dear, are you desperate and dumb?”
I sink to my knees, the position placing my
head right in front of his crotch. He leans forward, rubbing his pants against
my face. I take a deep breath, a tear falling from my eye. Forgive me, Mark.
Forgive me, Dad. Forgive me every professor, teacher, and friend. Forgive me
for what I am about to have to do.
He puts his left hand behind my head, ready to
pull me forward, his hand with a firm grip on my hair, knowing I can’t escape.
His other hand snakes to his pants, slowly pushing his zipper down. I see the
bulge inside his boxer shorts bounce and jerk as he exposes his cock to me, my
mouth only inches away.
I close my eyes as I feel the pressure from
behind my head pulling me toward him. My mouth, full of bile and bitter regret,
opens obediently. I wait for that first sour taste.
The whole room explodes into sound. A red
light in the ceiling begins to circle round and round and the oppressive
blaring of some kind of alarm shatters the air. Blake jumps back, his head
practically spinning as he looks wildly around the room. He lets go of my hair
and pushes me backwards running out into the hall.
The sound rings out so loudly I can feel my
heart starting to beat with the rhythm of the alarm. My brain kicks into
action. That’s what it is, some kind of alarm. I look up and see the sprinkler
heads have popped down. Blake has about two more minutes and this whole office
is going to get sprayed with water and fire retardant. This is my chance! I
bolt out of the conference room.
The rotating red lights and harsh sounds
disorient me momentarily and I realize I am running further into the office
instead of to the exit. By the time I get my bearings and head the correct
direction, Blake is coming back down the narrow hallway from his office. He
sees me and starts to run, his fly still open and his shame hanging out for all
to see.
“I changed my mind,” I call uselessly and take
off toward the door and he tries to cut me off. I know if he catches me, it’s
over. I skirt around a chair throwing it behind me, then hear it crash against
the wall as he muscles it out of his way. He’s only a foot away from me, reaching
out to grab me when I get to the glass door and open it.
Six security guards are running on the tile
floor adding to the cacophony of the moment. I jump out between two of them and
manage to break free from Blake’s reach as they accidentally push him
backwards.
“Get her!” Blake spits venomously. “She did
this!”
They turn and see me standing there breathless
and lunge in my direction. Just then a loud whooshing sound draws everyone’s
attention to the office where the water has started flowing from the ceiling.
“No. No. No no no no!” Blake stammers running
back into the office. Half the men accompany him but the others are still
running toward me. The sound of more footsteps running across the lobby rings
out and before I can figure out which way to turn an arm reaches around my
stomach and pulls me to the ground.
“Stop!” I kick backwards trying to harm my
assailant.
“It’s me. It’s Mark,” he says in my ear
loudly. He pulls me under a stairwell, embracing me as I shiver. “It’s me, it’s
me, it’s me.”
I put my head on his shoulder and he lifts a
finger to his lips to instruct me to be very quiet. We watch from under the
stairs as the boots of firemen and shiny black shoes of security all rush into
Sandstone Ventures. The few late-night workers from other offices begin walking
down the stairs; we can hear them above us. Mark motions for me to get ready
and as a group walks by, we fit in the pack. I’m trying desperately to walk as
if I am wearing shoes, and Mark keeps his hand on my arm as if he is guiding a
blind woman down the stairs.
We exit with the other occupants and quietly
make our way to the parking lot.
“My purse!” I exclaim. “I left it in there.
It’s in there with Blake. I don’t have any keys.”
Mark motions for me to keep my voice down and
walks me to another vehicle, a worn down Chrysler that looks like it was just
bought from one of those lots by the junkyard where they cover the car in paint
and scrawl “Best Offer” on the window. He pulls a key out of his pocket, opens
the passenger door and pushes me in.
“Where did you get this?” I ask, amazed.
“Robert Clank. He’s not just a bail bondsman,
you know. He has all kinds of skills and connections. How do you think he keeps
from losing money? One of his bounty hunters loaned me this. Bob also knows
some great lock-pick and carjacking specialists. I’ll call and have him get
someone to bring your car home this evening.
Mark pulls out of the lot and drives down the
freeway for several miles before pulling over in a grocery store lot and
shutting off the engine. He calls Mr. Clank and gives a description and
instructions about my car.
He puts his phone down and looks at me so
lovingly that I burst into tears.
“Are you okay, Julia? Did he hurt you? Did
he‒you know—”
“No!” I slam my fist against the dashboard.
“NO! NO! NO! But I didn’t get the folder either. It was all for nothing. I went
through that for nothing and now Blake knows I set him up and the file probably
got water all over it and it’s all gone. It’s all gone.”
Mark holds me for a moment, and then begins to
pull his shirt out of his pants. I can’t believe he wants to do that now.
“It’s not
all
gone,” he says
reassuringly opening his shirt.
“Mark, I’m really not in the mood for—”
He opens some buttons and pulls a folder out,
the same kind of folder as the fake in my purse. At least Blake won’t know we
tried to set him up.
“You saved the fake? Oh good,” I reply
half-heartedly.
“I saved the original,” he said, flipping it
open to show me all kinds of tables, charts, pictures and notes.
“What? How?”
“I hid under that stairwell while you went in.
You weren’t very cool, by the way. I saw you looking for me and Blake could
have seen it too. But he stayed in his office. I saw him dragging you to the
conference room. That was something I didn’t think about ahead of time. It has
more cameras, and better lighting. He was so excited to get you in there he
left his office door open, so I went in and made the switch. But I could feel
something. I can’t explain it, but I knew you were in trouble. I walked out and
saw your shoes in the hall. So, I pulled the fire alarm by the door and went
back under the stairwell.”
“You beautiful, wonderful, man,” I say,
hugging Mark and looking through the folder. It was all there. Spreadsheets,
emails, even more pictures of Valerie and Mark. I didn’t care. I was so happy
to see all that evidence nothing could have stopped me from cheering.
“I’m so sorry, Julia,” he says reaching out to
touch me. I react and pull away from him, the thought of his brother’s hands on
me still overwhelming my senses. “I’m staying with you tonight. Tomorrow, we
will see the judge.”
“Tomorrow, my life begins again.” I sigh,
hoping somehow to rid myself of the ghost of Blake’s perversion before Mark
notices its presence too clearly.
“You are amazing.” He starts the car and backs
out of the parking lot.
“I love you.” I kiss the folder and hug his
arm as he drives us back to my place.