Tuesday, February 2, 2016
Author's note
One day into my new semester and I'm already running late on a post. I will for sure have one post up later this week. I'm going to still shoot for two, but if I can get a second one up, it will also be later this week. Sorry!
Friday, January 29, 2016
State of the Blog
Hi everyone! I go back to school next week (boo!) and I wanted to fill you in on my plans.
I hope to continue to post about twice a week. I'd rather not commit to a particular schedule. I'll shoot for once early in the week (Sunday or Mondayish, in an ideal world) and once later in the week. If I'm not going to be able to post twice, I'll give you a head's up.
I'm hoping to wrap up with Kinsley and Lauren in the next 4-6 weeks. I could probably write on either of them for several months more, and I might pick back up with them again in the future, but for now it's just not sustainable. I want to give them both the endings they deserve instead of getting tired of doing it or overwhelmed and just abandoning you (and them!).
For the very end, I was thinking of doing a fast-forward post that wraps everyone's stories up nicely. I was thinking about doing it from Liv's point of view, for old time's sake. Thoughts on that? If you don't want Liv, who would you prefer?
Don't be too sad about this blog ending, because I'm also announcing an official launch date of March 1 for my new blog! That entire story is about 60% written, in bits and pieces. It will overlap a bit with the end of this blog, but since the other is already mostly written, I don't anticipate that it will impact any posting schedules. The title of my new story is "In All the Wrong Places" and I'm really excited to share it with you all! I'll post the first post as a sneak peek in mid-February.
Thank you all for your continued reading, commenting, and support! It's been so much to write Kinsley and Lauren's stories since they're both such different characters from Liv.
I hope to continue to post about twice a week. I'd rather not commit to a particular schedule. I'll shoot for once early in the week (Sunday or Mondayish, in an ideal world) and once later in the week. If I'm not going to be able to post twice, I'll give you a head's up.
I'm hoping to wrap up with Kinsley and Lauren in the next 4-6 weeks. I could probably write on either of them for several months more, and I might pick back up with them again in the future, but for now it's just not sustainable. I want to give them both the endings they deserve instead of getting tired of doing it or overwhelmed and just abandoning you (and them!).
For the very end, I was thinking of doing a fast-forward post that wraps everyone's stories up nicely. I was thinking about doing it from Liv's point of view, for old time's sake. Thoughts on that? If you don't want Liv, who would you prefer?
Don't be too sad about this blog ending, because I'm also announcing an official launch date of March 1 for my new blog! That entire story is about 60% written, in bits and pieces. It will overlap a bit with the end of this blog, but since the other is already mostly written, I don't anticipate that it will impact any posting schedules. The title of my new story is "In All the Wrong Places" and I'm really excited to share it with you all! I'll post the first post as a sneak peek in mid-February.
Thank you all for your continued reading, commenting, and support! It's been so much to write Kinsley and Lauren's stories since they're both such different characters from Liv.
Thursday, January 28, 2016
Kinsley: Trust
I woke up a couple hours later and felt the weight of Damien's arm across me still. My shoulder was sore from laying on it but I didn't want to disturb him, so I very slowly and carefully shifted onto my stomach. Damien didn't move. His arm was still draped over me--now it was on my back. I got comfortable again and fell back to sleep.
The next time I woke up, the room was bright. Damien only had blinds on the windows in here, no curtains. I groaned and rolled over, then realized that Damien was gone. Anxiety welled up and I wondered why he'd left. Had I imagined him coming in? No, I'd woken up once and he was still there. Did he wake up and decide he didn't want anything to do with me?
There was only one way to find out. I pushed back the blankets and blinked a few times. My eyes felt raw and swollen. A quick trip to the bathroom confirmed that they were red and puffy. I looked terrible. I splashed some cold water on my face but it didn't help.
I pulled on Damien's sweatpants, cinching the drawstring as tightly as I could. They still hung low on my hips and were comically long. I completed the amusing picture with Damien's hooded sweatshirt, which I had to fish out of blankets. Sometime during the night it had migrated out of my arms and down towards the end of the bed.
I made my way downstairs and found Damien in the kitchen, making breakfast. "Coffee?" he asked me. I nodded.
He poured me a cup and I thanked him when he handed it to me. "Do you want help?" I offered tentatively.
He shook his head and said, "No, sit down. Is it okay if I talk while I cook?"
"Sure," I replied, pulling a chair away from the table. I wrapped my hands around my coffee mug and stared at the dark liquid inside it.
"First," he started, "I want you to know that I trust you completely and I believe what you told me last night."
"You do?" I asked, surprised. I don't know what I was expecting him to say, but that wasn't it.
"I do," he replied. He turned and looked at me. "Should I not?"
"No," I said quickly. "You should. I just...wasn't expecting this conversation to start that way."
"I should have told you last night, but I was so thrown off by your reaction to the situation that I didn't know what to think," he admitted. "You were so uncharacteristically upset that I didn't know what to make of it. It seemed like an out of proportion reaction to some guy kissing you and you stopping it. It was really confusing."
I considered this. "Well," I said, rocking my coffee mug around on its bottom edge, "I think part of it is that something like that has never happened to me before. I mean, hell, I've never even been in a relationship this serious before, so I've never even had the opportunity to cheat or be cheated on. But it's one of those things that everyone else has such strong feelings about that I think I just panicked."
I paused, and decided if I was going to be honest and vulnerable, I might as well really do it. "And you're not going to like this, and I'm sorry, but seeing him after so long was really confusing. Our...breakup, I guess, destroyed me. And he was there to help me deal with my feelings the best way I know how, which is sex. So suddenly seeing him again stirred up some sort of feelings that were weird and confusing and uncomfortable and really threw me off."
Damien had been looking at me, and I caught his grimace as he turned quickly back towards the stove. "I'm sorry," I apologized, for what felt like the thousandth time, but it also didn't feel like it was nearly enough. Now that I was talking, I couldn't seem to stop myself. The words just tumbled out. "I didn't ever want to be in a relationship with him. You're the only person I want to be with. Fuck, you're pretty much the only person I've ever wanted to be with in my entire life. And we'd just sort of talked about the future and... And it was scary to me how quickly and easily it all happened. I never should have let him walk me to my car. That was stupid."
"I don't agree," Damien said emphatically, turning to look at me.
"With which part?" I asked, confused.
"That it was stupid for you to let him walk you to your car. A man should be able to walk you to your car without losing his sensibilities and making a move on a woman that he knows is in a relationship. You didn't 'owe' him that kiss for his presence. He's the one that fucked up, Kinsley."
"I kissed him back," I pointed out, then instantly wanted to kick myself. I really could not seem to shut the fuck up to save my relationship here.
"Yeah," Damien said wryly. "You told me. And I kind of wish you hadn't. But you stopped it and were honest--really honest--and that's important to me."
"This is weird," I blurted. "You should be mad."
"You know that's not really my thing," he replied. "Look, I'd be lying if I said this didn't suck. It sucks and it's confusing and it hurts a little too. I'm not happy about it. But I trust you and I appreciate you telling me what happened. I really appreciate this entire conversation, I know it's probably been really hard for you."
I looked at him, not sure what to say. He turned back to the stove and finished what he was doing, then got out plates and put pancakes and sausage on them. He brought both plates over the table. "One of the things I fucked up in my last relationship was holding on to things that upset me for too long. There's nothing I can do about what happened last night. I can either overreact and break up with you again and regret it again, or I can trust you and move on. So I'm choosing to trust you and move on."
"Okay," I said, still baffled by how this conversation was going. "Well...okay."
We ate our breakfast mostly quietly. It was awkward and weird and even though he had said he trusted me and was moving on, the tension in the room was heavy and kept me on the verge of tears. Damien let me wash the dishes after we finished, then said, "I know we were going to run today and spend the day together, but I think I need to be by myself today."
Anxiety gripped me and I looked up at him, worried. "But I thought you said..." I trailed off and pushed my hand into my hair, tugging on it nervously.
"Nothing has changed," he assured me. "I love you. I'm not mad. But I just need some space today. I'd like to take you out to dinner tomorrow, if you'd like to go."
I stood there quietly. The logical and rational part of me (it exists, I swear) knew that this was reasonable. Hell, if the whole day was as tense as breakfast was, I didn't even want to be here. But the emotional part was terrified that he'd spend the day by himself and decide that maybe he didn't trust me as much as he thought he did. It was also really hard to have been as vulnerable as I was and then get kicked out. Finally, I nodded. "Yeah, I'd like that. I'm just going to change quick, if that's okay."
"Of course it is," he said. "Take your time and do whatever you need to do. If you want to shower before you go that's fine too."
I shook my head and hurried upstairs to change. I pulled on yesterday's clothes, made the bed, and left Damien's stuff folded carefully on the end of the bed. It would have felt weird to go into his room to leave them there.
When I came downstairs, Damien stood and met me by the door. He pulled me into a fierce, tight hug and my anxiety decreased slightly. "I love you," he said.
"I love you too," I replied, pressing my face hard against his shoulder. We stood there for a really long time.
Finally, he loosened his grip on me and we separated. He touched my hair and said, "I really like your haircut, by the way."
"Thanks," I said, feeling almost shy. "I do too, but it still feels weird." I ran my fingers through it and smiled awkwardly at him.
"It doesn't look weird," he said, grinning genuinely. My face relaxed into a more normal smile. He stepped closer to me, took my face gently in both hands, and kissed me. I reached up and gripped his wrists tightly as I kissed him back. I wanted desperately to try to escalate our kiss, to try to fix the tension the best way I knew how, but I knew it wasn't a good idea. So after several seconds, I pulled back, ending the kiss before I lost my self control.
"I'll see you tomorrow?" Damien asked, studying my face.
"Yes," I agreed. "I'll see you tomorrow."
The next time I woke up, the room was bright. Damien only had blinds on the windows in here, no curtains. I groaned and rolled over, then realized that Damien was gone. Anxiety welled up and I wondered why he'd left. Had I imagined him coming in? No, I'd woken up once and he was still there. Did he wake up and decide he didn't want anything to do with me?
There was only one way to find out. I pushed back the blankets and blinked a few times. My eyes felt raw and swollen. A quick trip to the bathroom confirmed that they were red and puffy. I looked terrible. I splashed some cold water on my face but it didn't help.
I pulled on Damien's sweatpants, cinching the drawstring as tightly as I could. They still hung low on my hips and were comically long. I completed the amusing picture with Damien's hooded sweatshirt, which I had to fish out of blankets. Sometime during the night it had migrated out of my arms and down towards the end of the bed.
I made my way downstairs and found Damien in the kitchen, making breakfast. "Coffee?" he asked me. I nodded.
He poured me a cup and I thanked him when he handed it to me. "Do you want help?" I offered tentatively.
He shook his head and said, "No, sit down. Is it okay if I talk while I cook?"
"Sure," I replied, pulling a chair away from the table. I wrapped my hands around my coffee mug and stared at the dark liquid inside it.
"First," he started, "I want you to know that I trust you completely and I believe what you told me last night."
"You do?" I asked, surprised. I don't know what I was expecting him to say, but that wasn't it.
"I do," he replied. He turned and looked at me. "Should I not?"
"No," I said quickly. "You should. I just...wasn't expecting this conversation to start that way."
"I should have told you last night, but I was so thrown off by your reaction to the situation that I didn't know what to think," he admitted. "You were so uncharacteristically upset that I didn't know what to make of it. It seemed like an out of proportion reaction to some guy kissing you and you stopping it. It was really confusing."
I considered this. "Well," I said, rocking my coffee mug around on its bottom edge, "I think part of it is that something like that has never happened to me before. I mean, hell, I've never even been in a relationship this serious before, so I've never even had the opportunity to cheat or be cheated on. But it's one of those things that everyone else has such strong feelings about that I think I just panicked."
I paused, and decided if I was going to be honest and vulnerable, I might as well really do it. "And you're not going to like this, and I'm sorry, but seeing him after so long was really confusing. Our...breakup, I guess, destroyed me. And he was there to help me deal with my feelings the best way I know how, which is sex. So suddenly seeing him again stirred up some sort of feelings that were weird and confusing and uncomfortable and really threw me off."
Damien had been looking at me, and I caught his grimace as he turned quickly back towards the stove. "I'm sorry," I apologized, for what felt like the thousandth time, but it also didn't feel like it was nearly enough. Now that I was talking, I couldn't seem to stop myself. The words just tumbled out. "I didn't ever want to be in a relationship with him. You're the only person I want to be with. Fuck, you're pretty much the only person I've ever wanted to be with in my entire life. And we'd just sort of talked about the future and... And it was scary to me how quickly and easily it all happened. I never should have let him walk me to my car. That was stupid."
"I don't agree," Damien said emphatically, turning to look at me.
"With which part?" I asked, confused.
"That it was stupid for you to let him walk you to your car. A man should be able to walk you to your car without losing his sensibilities and making a move on a woman that he knows is in a relationship. You didn't 'owe' him that kiss for his presence. He's the one that fucked up, Kinsley."
"I kissed him back," I pointed out, then instantly wanted to kick myself. I really could not seem to shut the fuck up to save my relationship here.
"Yeah," Damien said wryly. "You told me. And I kind of wish you hadn't. But you stopped it and were honest--really honest--and that's important to me."
"This is weird," I blurted. "You should be mad."
"You know that's not really my thing," he replied. "Look, I'd be lying if I said this didn't suck. It sucks and it's confusing and it hurts a little too. I'm not happy about it. But I trust you and I appreciate you telling me what happened. I really appreciate this entire conversation, I know it's probably been really hard for you."
I looked at him, not sure what to say. He turned back to the stove and finished what he was doing, then got out plates and put pancakes and sausage on them. He brought both plates over the table. "One of the things I fucked up in my last relationship was holding on to things that upset me for too long. There's nothing I can do about what happened last night. I can either overreact and break up with you again and regret it again, or I can trust you and move on. So I'm choosing to trust you and move on."
"Okay," I said, still baffled by how this conversation was going. "Well...okay."
We ate our breakfast mostly quietly. It was awkward and weird and even though he had said he trusted me and was moving on, the tension in the room was heavy and kept me on the verge of tears. Damien let me wash the dishes after we finished, then said, "I know we were going to run today and spend the day together, but I think I need to be by myself today."
Anxiety gripped me and I looked up at him, worried. "But I thought you said..." I trailed off and pushed my hand into my hair, tugging on it nervously.
"Nothing has changed," he assured me. "I love you. I'm not mad. But I just need some space today. I'd like to take you out to dinner tomorrow, if you'd like to go."
I stood there quietly. The logical and rational part of me (it exists, I swear) knew that this was reasonable. Hell, if the whole day was as tense as breakfast was, I didn't even want to be here. But the emotional part was terrified that he'd spend the day by himself and decide that maybe he didn't trust me as much as he thought he did. It was also really hard to have been as vulnerable as I was and then get kicked out. Finally, I nodded. "Yeah, I'd like that. I'm just going to change quick, if that's okay."
"Of course it is," he said. "Take your time and do whatever you need to do. If you want to shower before you go that's fine too."
I shook my head and hurried upstairs to change. I pulled on yesterday's clothes, made the bed, and left Damien's stuff folded carefully on the end of the bed. It would have felt weird to go into his room to leave them there.
When I came downstairs, Damien stood and met me by the door. He pulled me into a fierce, tight hug and my anxiety decreased slightly. "I love you," he said.
"I love you too," I replied, pressing my face hard against his shoulder. We stood there for a really long time.
Finally, he loosened his grip on me and we separated. He touched my hair and said, "I really like your haircut, by the way."
"Thanks," I said, feeling almost shy. "I do too, but it still feels weird." I ran my fingers through it and smiled awkwardly at him.
"It doesn't look weird," he said, grinning genuinely. My face relaxed into a more normal smile. He stepped closer to me, took my face gently in both hands, and kissed me. I reached up and gripped his wrists tightly as I kissed him back. I wanted desperately to try to escalate our kiss, to try to fix the tension the best way I knew how, but I knew it wasn't a good idea. So after several seconds, I pulled back, ending the kiss before I lost my self control.
"I'll see you tomorrow?" Damien asked, studying my face.
"Yes," I agreed. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
Lauren: Headlines
I don't tell Logan everything, of course. I'm not stupid. I don't say anything about the non-disclosure agreement or even that Sean got into my email account and sent the email on my behalf. I simply fill him in on the call I got, the severance package, and the weird encounter (an edited version to not give too many details) with Sean by the bathroom.
"Sean is apparently on paid leave," Logan fills me in. "No one really knows why, but that explains it. If you ask me, I think he's up to even more shady stuff."
"What do you mean?" I ask curiously.
He shrugs. "I don't know, but he's sketchy as hell. I've thought that from day 1."
"So did I," I agree.
We both stand quietly for several seconds before Logan asks, "How's the job search going?"
"It's not, really," I admit. "There isn't a lot out there. At least with the severance and what I have saved, I can just apply to things I think I'd really like. I'm not in a huge hurry anymore. I need to check out those networking resources you sent me. Thank you for that, by the way."
"Yeah, no problem," he replies. "It's how I got this job. I hope they're helpful for you."
We chat for a few more minutes, then go our separate ways.
Two weeks pass, and it's more of the same. Job search, do some things for Alex, keep my house clean on top of it. I spend most nights at his house, only sleeping at my own every 3 or 4 nights. Alex is now working from home for a couple hours a day a few days a week. He's thrilled with having a bit more to keep him busy. He's also getting more self-sufficient and better able to use his left arm. I'm relieved as his need for me drops a little because it means I don't have to feel bad about spending more time at my place instead of his.
Despite having my own stuff and Alex's stuff to keep me busy, plus him to keep me company, I'm going stir crazy. I get a couple leads through one of the networking resources Logan gave me, and I apply for them and wait. Finally, about 4 weeks after I originally walked out, I get an interview.
I relish the excuse to dress up and do my hair and makeup. I've let myself devolve into a bit of a slob, wearing yoga pants and sweatpants and leggings far too often. I won't even tell you how often I actually put a bra on. You'd be ashamed, and that's fine.
Unfortunately, by 10 minutes into the interview, it's really clear to me that this isn't the company for me. The job itself sounds great, but the three people interviewing me (one of whom would be my direct supervisor, and another is his direct supervisor) seem uptight and micromanaging, which doesn't work for me. I confirm this by asking a question about what a typical day looks like. I find out that lunch and break times are dictated and every minute of the day must be accounted for. Next!
I go to Alex's house after the interview and collapse on the couch next to him. He's playing video games, which is a fairly new thing for him, and I sit irritated and quiet until he gets to a place he can stop. "How'd it go?" he asks. Then he takes a second look at my face and says, "Oh, not good, huh?"
"Not good," I confirm. "I think I need a hobby." I've never been one for having hobbies. I don't work out, I don't do crafts (seriously, can you imagine me crafting? I didn't think so.), I'm not artistic, and I can barely walk in a straight line without tripping over something. Generally my own feet or, you know...air.
"I've got some hobbies for you," Alex says with a smirk.
"Yeah, I know," I say rolling my eyes. "I guess it's about lunchtime." Without waiting for him to respond, I stand up and stomp towards the kitchen. I really do need to come up with some hobbies soon before I self destruct.
I hear him come into the kitchen behind me but I ignore him. I'm standing and staring into the pantry, realizing that I desperately need to pick up some groceries, when he slips his right arm around me from behind. "That's not what I meant," he says softly before sucking my earlobe between his lips and nibbling on it.
I sigh and close my eyes, lunch completely forgotten. It's been almost 5 weeks since we've had any sort of sexual contact and I'm turned on the second I even feel his breath against my neck. I take a deep breath and get a hold of myself before I rip his clothes off, then turn and look at him. I can tell by the way he's looking at me that he's just as ready to go as I am, but I ask, "Are you sure?"
"If we don't, I might die," he tells me with a totally straight face. I laugh, because dramatic is not normally his style. "We'll just have to be careful."
"I don't know if I have careful in me at this point, but I'll do my best," I promise.
He smirks. "That's fine, I'll give you something else to have in you."
"You're disgusting," I say, rolling my eyes. "Let's go upstairs."
Alex grabs my hand and pulls me upstairs, moving a lot more quickly than I'd seen him move since before his accident. We're barely even in his bedroom when he presses his lips to mine and pulls my body against his. He begins awkwardly pulling at my dress with one hand and I step back and tugged the zipper down then pull it over my head, then take off my tights.
Alex just stands there for several seconds, staring at me. He does it long enough that I start to feel self-conscious standing there in my bra and underwear. Finally he says, "You're beautiful. Get over here and kiss me."
I gladly do, and I shiver as he runs his fingertips lightly down my spine and kisses me again. He works to unhook my bra with one hand, fumbling like a newbie. I laugh and say, "I can get it."
"No," he says stubbornly. "I'm going to do it." I bite my lip to keep from laughing, but luckily his next try frees the clasp and I shake my bra down my arms and onto the floor. I nudge him backwards and he takes the hint and walks back until he runs into the bed. I give him a minute to undress, lay down, and get situated, then climb onto the bed and carefully straddle his hips. "Why are these still on?" he asks playfully, hooking a finger underneath my underwear and sliding it back and forth across my skin, making me shudder.
"Because I'm not ready to take them off," I reply, taking his hand and using all my willpower to move it away from me. I lean down and kiss him for several seconds as I wrap my hand around him. He's been hard since we got up here and it doesn't take much to have him panting and squirming. I give him a short break and move so he can bite and suck on my nipples while he slides his fingers back underneath my underwear. I groan when he makes contact and let him get me close to an orgasm before I once again pull his hand away and slide down the bed.
I go down on him until he finishes, and it doesn't take long. I wait until his grip on my hair relaxes enough that I can pull the strands free and move back up to lay next to him. I don't even think he notices that I've moved until I start lightly running my fingertips over his chest and shoulder.
He groans and clears his throat, then says, "Well."
"Yeah?" I reply, laughing.
"Yeah," he answers. He shuts his eyes and is quiet for several seconds, then says, "I needed that."
"Oh good, then I guess my work here is done," I say sarcastically. "I'll just get dressed and--"
"You'll do no such thing," he interrupts. "I'm keeping you here naked for the rest of the day. Now get those underwear off and come up here so I can thank you."
I lean up on my elbow and smirk at him. "You're awfully bossy for someone who only has the use of one arm."
He reaches over, wraps that one arm around my waist, and pulls. My body falls back against his and I'm stuck. "If I didn't know better," he says softly near my ear, nipping lightly at my neck every couple words, "I'd think you didn't want sex."
"Mmm, well I'd hate for you to think that," I reply arching my back against him as he slides his hand beneath my underwear again. "You know me, I just can't let everything be easy."
"I do know you," he agrees. "And you don't let anything be easy. But I do wish you'd take these off and come up here, because I miss the way you taste." That was all it took for me to quit being a pain in the ass, and my underwear were off in about 2 seconds. I carefully positioned my knees on either side of his shoulders and lowered myself to his mouth, gripping his headboard when his tongue slid against my skin.
Alex wasn't lying when he said he was going to keep me naked in his bed for the rest of the day. We take frequent breaks and I do a vast majority of the work, but we work out some of the serious sexual frustration that has been 5 weeks in the making. By dinner time, we we're both too dazed and tired to actually make anything, so I go down to the kitchen and come back with two bowls, two spoons, a box of cereal and the milk.
"I don't think I'm going to be able to get out of bed tomorrow," Alex groans, wincing as he works himself slowly into a seated position. "Have you ever had sex with anyone that needed to take prescription pain meds afterwards just to function?"
"There was this old guy once..." I joke, smirking and cocking an eyebrow at him.
Alex shakes his head. "You fucked up," he tells me. "You could have married him, waited for him to die, collected on his life insurance and then started dating me."
"You're a horrible person," I inform him, struggling to keep the grin off my face. "That's disgusting."
"You started it, babe," he reminds me, winking.
"Why don't people ever joke about men marrying old women for their inheritance and life insurance?" I ask.
"Because men would never stoop so low," he responds haughtily.
"You're really fucking lucky you have broken bones and shit," I tell him. "I'll refrain from kicking your ass. I think you're on your own tomorrow though."
"That's fine, I don't need help from you anyway," he replies. Then I see him eyeing up the cereal box, which is on the other side of me and about 4 feet to his left. He looks from the box to me and frowns.
"You were saying?" I ask, smirking. He just laughs and shakes his head. I hand him the box, then the milk. Once we're done eating I take the stuff back downstairs then get back in bed with him. We spend the rest of the evening laying in bed, watching Netflix.
The next morning, I'm washing dishes from breakfast and the night before, feeling much less cooped up than I had for awhile. I'm putting dishes away when I hear Alex.
"Lauren?" he calls from the living room. His voice sounds odd.
"What?" I yell back.
"You need to come see this."
I walk into the living room, slightly irritated at the interruption. My irritation fades as I take the newspaper from him and see a large photo of my former office building on the front page. I quickly scan the headline. "Fortune 500 Company's Executives Under Fire in Sexual Harassment Cover Up." "Shit," I mutter. My eyes move to the sub-headline. "Sean Condin Fired Amidst Scrutiny."
"Sean is apparently on paid leave," Logan fills me in. "No one really knows why, but that explains it. If you ask me, I think he's up to even more shady stuff."
"What do you mean?" I ask curiously.
He shrugs. "I don't know, but he's sketchy as hell. I've thought that from day 1."
"So did I," I agree.
We both stand quietly for several seconds before Logan asks, "How's the job search going?"
"It's not, really," I admit. "There isn't a lot out there. At least with the severance and what I have saved, I can just apply to things I think I'd really like. I'm not in a huge hurry anymore. I need to check out those networking resources you sent me. Thank you for that, by the way."
"Yeah, no problem," he replies. "It's how I got this job. I hope they're helpful for you."
We chat for a few more minutes, then go our separate ways.
Two weeks pass, and it's more of the same. Job search, do some things for Alex, keep my house clean on top of it. I spend most nights at his house, only sleeping at my own every 3 or 4 nights. Alex is now working from home for a couple hours a day a few days a week. He's thrilled with having a bit more to keep him busy. He's also getting more self-sufficient and better able to use his left arm. I'm relieved as his need for me drops a little because it means I don't have to feel bad about spending more time at my place instead of his.
Despite having my own stuff and Alex's stuff to keep me busy, plus him to keep me company, I'm going stir crazy. I get a couple leads through one of the networking resources Logan gave me, and I apply for them and wait. Finally, about 4 weeks after I originally walked out, I get an interview.
I relish the excuse to dress up and do my hair and makeup. I've let myself devolve into a bit of a slob, wearing yoga pants and sweatpants and leggings far too often. I won't even tell you how often I actually put a bra on. You'd be ashamed, and that's fine.
Unfortunately, by 10 minutes into the interview, it's really clear to me that this isn't the company for me. The job itself sounds great, but the three people interviewing me (one of whom would be my direct supervisor, and another is his direct supervisor) seem uptight and micromanaging, which doesn't work for me. I confirm this by asking a question about what a typical day looks like. I find out that lunch and break times are dictated and every minute of the day must be accounted for. Next!
I go to Alex's house after the interview and collapse on the couch next to him. He's playing video games, which is a fairly new thing for him, and I sit irritated and quiet until he gets to a place he can stop. "How'd it go?" he asks. Then he takes a second look at my face and says, "Oh, not good, huh?"
"Not good," I confirm. "I think I need a hobby." I've never been one for having hobbies. I don't work out, I don't do crafts (seriously, can you imagine me crafting? I didn't think so.), I'm not artistic, and I can barely walk in a straight line without tripping over something. Generally my own feet or, you know...air.
"I've got some hobbies for you," Alex says with a smirk.
"Yeah, I know," I say rolling my eyes. "I guess it's about lunchtime." Without waiting for him to respond, I stand up and stomp towards the kitchen. I really do need to come up with some hobbies soon before I self destruct.
I hear him come into the kitchen behind me but I ignore him. I'm standing and staring into the pantry, realizing that I desperately need to pick up some groceries, when he slips his right arm around me from behind. "That's not what I meant," he says softly before sucking my earlobe between his lips and nibbling on it.
I sigh and close my eyes, lunch completely forgotten. It's been almost 5 weeks since we've had any sort of sexual contact and I'm turned on the second I even feel his breath against my neck. I take a deep breath and get a hold of myself before I rip his clothes off, then turn and look at him. I can tell by the way he's looking at me that he's just as ready to go as I am, but I ask, "Are you sure?"
"If we don't, I might die," he tells me with a totally straight face. I laugh, because dramatic is not normally his style. "We'll just have to be careful."
"I don't know if I have careful in me at this point, but I'll do my best," I promise.
He smirks. "That's fine, I'll give you something else to have in you."
"You're disgusting," I say, rolling my eyes. "Let's go upstairs."
Alex grabs my hand and pulls me upstairs, moving a lot more quickly than I'd seen him move since before his accident. We're barely even in his bedroom when he presses his lips to mine and pulls my body against his. He begins awkwardly pulling at my dress with one hand and I step back and tugged the zipper down then pull it over my head, then take off my tights.
Alex just stands there for several seconds, staring at me. He does it long enough that I start to feel self-conscious standing there in my bra and underwear. Finally he says, "You're beautiful. Get over here and kiss me."
I gladly do, and I shiver as he runs his fingertips lightly down my spine and kisses me again. He works to unhook my bra with one hand, fumbling like a newbie. I laugh and say, "I can get it."
"No," he says stubbornly. "I'm going to do it." I bite my lip to keep from laughing, but luckily his next try frees the clasp and I shake my bra down my arms and onto the floor. I nudge him backwards and he takes the hint and walks back until he runs into the bed. I give him a minute to undress, lay down, and get situated, then climb onto the bed and carefully straddle his hips. "Why are these still on?" he asks playfully, hooking a finger underneath my underwear and sliding it back and forth across my skin, making me shudder.
"Because I'm not ready to take them off," I reply, taking his hand and using all my willpower to move it away from me. I lean down and kiss him for several seconds as I wrap my hand around him. He's been hard since we got up here and it doesn't take much to have him panting and squirming. I give him a short break and move so he can bite and suck on my nipples while he slides his fingers back underneath my underwear. I groan when he makes contact and let him get me close to an orgasm before I once again pull his hand away and slide down the bed.
I go down on him until he finishes, and it doesn't take long. I wait until his grip on my hair relaxes enough that I can pull the strands free and move back up to lay next to him. I don't even think he notices that I've moved until I start lightly running my fingertips over his chest and shoulder.
He groans and clears his throat, then says, "Well."
"Yeah?" I reply, laughing.
"Yeah," he answers. He shuts his eyes and is quiet for several seconds, then says, "I needed that."
"Oh good, then I guess my work here is done," I say sarcastically. "I'll just get dressed and--"
"You'll do no such thing," he interrupts. "I'm keeping you here naked for the rest of the day. Now get those underwear off and come up here so I can thank you."
I lean up on my elbow and smirk at him. "You're awfully bossy for someone who only has the use of one arm."
He reaches over, wraps that one arm around my waist, and pulls. My body falls back against his and I'm stuck. "If I didn't know better," he says softly near my ear, nipping lightly at my neck every couple words, "I'd think you didn't want sex."
"Mmm, well I'd hate for you to think that," I reply arching my back against him as he slides his hand beneath my underwear again. "You know me, I just can't let everything be easy."
"I do know you," he agrees. "And you don't let anything be easy. But I do wish you'd take these off and come up here, because I miss the way you taste." That was all it took for me to quit being a pain in the ass, and my underwear were off in about 2 seconds. I carefully positioned my knees on either side of his shoulders and lowered myself to his mouth, gripping his headboard when his tongue slid against my skin.
Alex wasn't lying when he said he was going to keep me naked in his bed for the rest of the day. We take frequent breaks and I do a vast majority of the work, but we work out some of the serious sexual frustration that has been 5 weeks in the making. By dinner time, we we're both too dazed and tired to actually make anything, so I go down to the kitchen and come back with two bowls, two spoons, a box of cereal and the milk.
"I don't think I'm going to be able to get out of bed tomorrow," Alex groans, wincing as he works himself slowly into a seated position. "Have you ever had sex with anyone that needed to take prescription pain meds afterwards just to function?"
"There was this old guy once..." I joke, smirking and cocking an eyebrow at him.
Alex shakes his head. "You fucked up," he tells me. "You could have married him, waited for him to die, collected on his life insurance and then started dating me."
"You're a horrible person," I inform him, struggling to keep the grin off my face. "That's disgusting."
"You started it, babe," he reminds me, winking.
"Why don't people ever joke about men marrying old women for their inheritance and life insurance?" I ask.
"Because men would never stoop so low," he responds haughtily.
"You're really fucking lucky you have broken bones and shit," I tell him. "I'll refrain from kicking your ass. I think you're on your own tomorrow though."
"That's fine, I don't need help from you anyway," he replies. Then I see him eyeing up the cereal box, which is on the other side of me and about 4 feet to his left. He looks from the box to me and frowns.
"You were saying?" I ask, smirking. He just laughs and shakes his head. I hand him the box, then the milk. Once we're done eating I take the stuff back downstairs then get back in bed with him. We spend the rest of the evening laying in bed, watching Netflix.
The next morning, I'm washing dishes from breakfast and the night before, feeling much less cooped up than I had for awhile. I'm putting dishes away when I hear Alex.
"Lauren?" he calls from the living room. His voice sounds odd.
"What?" I yell back.
"You need to come see this."
I walk into the living room, slightly irritated at the interruption. My irritation fades as I take the newspaper from him and see a large photo of my former office building on the front page. I quickly scan the headline. "Fortune 500 Company's Executives Under Fire in Sexual Harassment Cover Up." "Shit," I mutter. My eyes move to the sub-headline. "Sean Condin Fired Amidst Scrutiny."
Monday, January 25, 2016
Friday, January 22, 2016
Lauren: Power Trip
I thought that I'd be nervous about being back at my old employer, but as I pull into the parking lot I'm as calm as can be. I check my appearance in my visor mirror briefly, straighten a rogue piece of hair, then turn off my car and get out. I'm precisely 4 minutes early.
People are starting to trickle out, leaving for the day, and I get a few a curious looks. I wonder what kind of story Sean concocted to explain my absence. I wonder if Logan straightened out any rumors, or contributed to them. I could see it going either way, honestly.
Once inside, I walk straight up to the desk. Kelly, the admin assistant sitting there, doesn't look surprised to see me so I imagine Sandra informed her I was coming. "I'm here for an appointment with Sandra," I tell her.
"Okay," she replies placidly. "I'll let her know you're here. You can have a seat." She gives me the smallest of knowing smiles at the end, but I don't return it before sitting down in the door closest to the the wing that houses HR.
I wait for over 10 minutes before Sandra comes out. "Lauren, you're right on time," she says with an unconvincing smile plastered on her face.
"And you're not," I reply brightly, causing her fake smile to falter.
"Right, I'm sorry about that," she says, recovering quickly. "I had something else I was finishing up."
I roll my eyes as she turns to lead me back through the twisting HR hallway to her office. I've not spent much time over here, so the brief feeling of having no idea where we're going causes my confidence to waver slightly. Luckily, as soon as we're in Sandra's office, it returns.
She motions to me to sit at the small round table that's in the corner of her office. She collects a stack of paperwork and joins me. "Did you have any questions before we get started?" Sandra asks me, handing me a pen.
"Yes, actually," I reply. "I'd like to see the email that was sent from my account, on my behalf."
Sandra's eyes widen slightly, and she considers this. "Fine," she answers finally. "Let me print it. You won't be able to take it with you, but you may look at here in my office." She goes to her computer, clicks around a bit, and then I hear the printer in the corner come to life. She returns to the table and hands me the page she printed.
I read over it. It was definitely sent from my email account and it certainly does request a reduction in my responsibility due to the "overly stressful nature of my current role." It also includes a request that all communication regarding the change in duties and job description go through Sean, as I'd like him to handle the transition so I can focus on wrapping up some of the projects I'm working on. That explains why I never heard anything from HR about it, though it still seems strange to me. Sean is a sneaky, manipulative bastard.
I had the page back to her calmly, even though I'm disgusted. "Okay, I'm ready to look at the forms I need to sign."
"Great," she says, taking the first form off the stack and glancing at it, then sliding it over to me. "This form lays out what you'll be receiving from us. So you'll get the seven months of severance, paid biweekly on Mondays starting next Monday, and also the continued health insurance coverage, through the same 7 month time period." She pauses and glances at me. "Do you want to continue contributing to your 401k?"
"Absolutely," I reply. If they're going to continue to match it, why would I turn down free money?
"So you'll need to check that box about halfway down the page. That will continue through the seven months as well." She pauses and waits, but I don't put my pen to the paper. "Do you have questions?"
"I'm just reading through," I inform her. She's out of her mind if she thinks I'm going to sign something without reading it. "Also, I'm not signing anything until I see everything you want me to sign."
I glance up from the page to see her purse her lips briefly. "Of course," she says, but it sounds forced. I look back down at the form and then frown.
"All the dates on this form say 2015," I point out, sliding it back to her.
She blinks in surprise and the slightest flush creeps into her cheeks. "They certainly do," she admits. She looks at the next form and the pink on her cheeks darkens. "I'll need a few minutes to fix these," she says, flipping through the other forms.
"That's fine," I say. "I'd like to use the restroom, anyway."
Sandra directs me to the nearest bathroom, which is in a small alcove a hallway away from the main HR office hallway. I make my way over there and use the single unisex bathroom then wash my hands. I inspect myself in the mirror and determine that I did an excellent job picking out my outfit for this meeting.
When I walk out of the bathroom, I'm surprised to find Sean lurking in the hallway. He looks just as surprised to see me. The surprise on his face is quickly replaced with a sneer. "Are you happy now?" he asks bitterly.
"Happy about what?" I ask calmly.
"About your little stunt. I knew you were a vindictive little bitch."
"And what little stunt is that?" I reply. I have no idea what he's talking about.
He rolls his eyes. "Calling HR, ratting me out, landing me in all sorts of hot water. I should have known you were up to something."
I laugh. A full on, loud laugh as if he told a joke. "First of all," I tell him, once I've gotten a hold of myself, "HR called me. I didn't call HR. Second of all, that is rich coming from you, considering you had an entire scheme to force me out of my position and into an assistant position. I haven't quite worked out if your goal was to actually have me as your assistant or to get me to quit, but either way, it was awfully stupid of you to think you could get away with it."
He takes a step towards me and his nostrils flare. It's not a good look for him. I don't move, and I continue to gaze at him with a bored look on my face. "You worthless little bitch," he sneers. "You'll be happy to know that I'm getting transferred and demoted at best, possibly fired. So if you're really that attached to your old job, you can take it back without worry that you'll have to look at me every day."
"Okay, Sean. Thanks for the update!" I tell him cheerfully. "Good luck to you!" I slip past him and walk back towards Sandra's office. I don't look back, but I can practically feel his eyes boring holes into my back as I walk away. It isn't until I turn the corner that my hands start to shake slightly. I take a deep breath and collect myself before I re-enter Sandra's office.
She smiles politely at me as I sit back down at the table. I hope I don't look flustered. "I've fixed the forms," she informs me. "I'm so sorry about that."
"It's okay," I reply. "I know how it goes."
She pushes the first form back to me, then goes through the next form, which is the release from liability. It's identical to what she emailed me, except the dates are filled in. I read through it again, then nod. The next form, which probably should have been the first form, is an official notice of resignation. The wording is changed slightly so that it says it's a "notification of dissolution of employment relationship." Whatever you need to tell yourself, Sandra. Then she gives me the last form, which she tells me is a non-disclosure agreement.
"I'm sorry, what?" I ask.
"A non-disclosure agreement is a legal document stating that you won't--"
I interrupt. "I know what a non-disclosure agreement is," I say, slightly irritated. "But this is the first I've heard of it. And why, exactly, are you interested in preventing me from disclosing what happened?"
"We don't want anyone to get unnecessarily riled up or upset," she tells me. "And I'm sure I mentioned it when I told you about the release."
"You didn't," I say shortly. I read through the agreement, which lays out very carefully, in great detail, that I cannot tell anyone in the entire world--including the Pope and Jesus and the Queen of England--the details of the dissolution of our employment relationship. Too bad I've already told several people. She can't possibly believe that no one knows. "I'm not signing this," I tell her. It explains her annoyance at me refusing to sign any of the other paperwork before seeing everything.
"It's a required document," she informs me. "The rest of the deal is void without it."
"Then I guess the rest of the deal is void," I say. There is no way I'm signing this document that she tried to sneak in here. I start to gather my things and put on my coat. I wasn't planning on suing before, because my need to make a point wasn't that strong. Now it is. "I imagine you'll be hearing from my attorney by the end of the week." This time I'm not bluffing. I'm already mentally composing a text to Evan to ask him for the contact information for the employment attorney he mentioned.
Sandra lets me get my coat on and get to the door. I turn before I leave and say, "I ran into Sean when I came out of the bathroom. We had an interesting chat. Tell him I said good luck." Then I put my hand on the knob and turn it.
I barely have the door open an inch when Sandra says, "Wait. I'm sure we can work something out." I turn back with one eyebrow raised skeptically. I wait silently for her to say more. "There's a chair outside my office," she goes on hurriedly. "Can you have a seat while I speak to our attorney?" I nod curtly and exit the office, shutting the door behind me.
As I sit down in the uncomfortable chair outside Sandra's office, I feel a rush of adrenaline. I shouldn't be getting so much pleasure from this interaction, but I am. I'm kind of in awe of my ability to negotiate with this powerful woman. It's awesome. Maybe I really am in the wrong business.
I wait for just a couple minutes before the door opens and Sandra steps out. "Come on in, Lauren. Sorry about that."
I walk in without saying anything and sit back down in my seat at the table. Sandra sits across from me. "Will you sign a revised non-disclosure agreement that only restricts you from speaking to the media?"
The media? Is this woman for real? I wonder what the fuck is actually going on here. I pause long enough to make her squirm. "I'd like to read it," I tell her. She hands it over and I read through. True to her word, from what I can tell, this agreement only limits me (or anyone acting under my direction) from speaking to the media regarding the details of the dissolution of our employment relationship. "I will sign this," I tell her. I have no desire to talk to the media. Actually, that's not entirely true. I had no desire to talk to the media until she told me I can't. Now I have a very strong desire to do so, but I know I don't want anything to do with the circus that would ensue.
The relief on Sandra's face is clear. I re-read all the forms to make sure she didn't sneakily try to change anything, then sign, initial, and check the right boxes. It's well after 5 by the time I leave with my copy of the forms I've signed.
I'm giddy with the excitement of the power I wielded today and I don't even notice Logan until he says my name. He's leaning against the passenger side of my car. "I thought this was your car," he says. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, have I got a story for you," I tell him, grinning. It's a good thing I didn't sign that original non-disclosure agreement. Still high on my power trip, I start to tell him everything that just went down.
People are starting to trickle out, leaving for the day, and I get a few a curious looks. I wonder what kind of story Sean concocted to explain my absence. I wonder if Logan straightened out any rumors, or contributed to them. I could see it going either way, honestly.
Once inside, I walk straight up to the desk. Kelly, the admin assistant sitting there, doesn't look surprised to see me so I imagine Sandra informed her I was coming. "I'm here for an appointment with Sandra," I tell her.
"Okay," she replies placidly. "I'll let her know you're here. You can have a seat." She gives me the smallest of knowing smiles at the end, but I don't return it before sitting down in the door closest to the the wing that houses HR.
I wait for over 10 minutes before Sandra comes out. "Lauren, you're right on time," she says with an unconvincing smile plastered on her face.
"And you're not," I reply brightly, causing her fake smile to falter.
"Right, I'm sorry about that," she says, recovering quickly. "I had something else I was finishing up."
I roll my eyes as she turns to lead me back through the twisting HR hallway to her office. I've not spent much time over here, so the brief feeling of having no idea where we're going causes my confidence to waver slightly. Luckily, as soon as we're in Sandra's office, it returns.
She motions to me to sit at the small round table that's in the corner of her office. She collects a stack of paperwork and joins me. "Did you have any questions before we get started?" Sandra asks me, handing me a pen.
"Yes, actually," I reply. "I'd like to see the email that was sent from my account, on my behalf."
Sandra's eyes widen slightly, and she considers this. "Fine," she answers finally. "Let me print it. You won't be able to take it with you, but you may look at here in my office." She goes to her computer, clicks around a bit, and then I hear the printer in the corner come to life. She returns to the table and hands me the page she printed.
I read over it. It was definitely sent from my email account and it certainly does request a reduction in my responsibility due to the "overly stressful nature of my current role." It also includes a request that all communication regarding the change in duties and job description go through Sean, as I'd like him to handle the transition so I can focus on wrapping up some of the projects I'm working on. That explains why I never heard anything from HR about it, though it still seems strange to me. Sean is a sneaky, manipulative bastard.
I had the page back to her calmly, even though I'm disgusted. "Okay, I'm ready to look at the forms I need to sign."
"Great," she says, taking the first form off the stack and glancing at it, then sliding it over to me. "This form lays out what you'll be receiving from us. So you'll get the seven months of severance, paid biweekly on Mondays starting next Monday, and also the continued health insurance coverage, through the same 7 month time period." She pauses and glances at me. "Do you want to continue contributing to your 401k?"
"Absolutely," I reply. If they're going to continue to match it, why would I turn down free money?
"So you'll need to check that box about halfway down the page. That will continue through the seven months as well." She pauses and waits, but I don't put my pen to the paper. "Do you have questions?"
"I'm just reading through," I inform her. She's out of her mind if she thinks I'm going to sign something without reading it. "Also, I'm not signing anything until I see everything you want me to sign."
I glance up from the page to see her purse her lips briefly. "Of course," she says, but it sounds forced. I look back down at the form and then frown.
"All the dates on this form say 2015," I point out, sliding it back to her.
She blinks in surprise and the slightest flush creeps into her cheeks. "They certainly do," she admits. She looks at the next form and the pink on her cheeks darkens. "I'll need a few minutes to fix these," she says, flipping through the other forms.
"That's fine," I say. "I'd like to use the restroom, anyway."
Sandra directs me to the nearest bathroom, which is in a small alcove a hallway away from the main HR office hallway. I make my way over there and use the single unisex bathroom then wash my hands. I inspect myself in the mirror and determine that I did an excellent job picking out my outfit for this meeting.
When I walk out of the bathroom, I'm surprised to find Sean lurking in the hallway. He looks just as surprised to see me. The surprise on his face is quickly replaced with a sneer. "Are you happy now?" he asks bitterly.
"Happy about what?" I ask calmly.
"About your little stunt. I knew you were a vindictive little bitch."
"And what little stunt is that?" I reply. I have no idea what he's talking about.
He rolls his eyes. "Calling HR, ratting me out, landing me in all sorts of hot water. I should have known you were up to something."
I laugh. A full on, loud laugh as if he told a joke. "First of all," I tell him, once I've gotten a hold of myself, "HR called me. I didn't call HR. Second of all, that is rich coming from you, considering you had an entire scheme to force me out of my position and into an assistant position. I haven't quite worked out if your goal was to actually have me as your assistant or to get me to quit, but either way, it was awfully stupid of you to think you could get away with it."
He takes a step towards me and his nostrils flare. It's not a good look for him. I don't move, and I continue to gaze at him with a bored look on my face. "You worthless little bitch," he sneers. "You'll be happy to know that I'm getting transferred and demoted at best, possibly fired. So if you're really that attached to your old job, you can take it back without worry that you'll have to look at me every day."
"Okay, Sean. Thanks for the update!" I tell him cheerfully. "Good luck to you!" I slip past him and walk back towards Sandra's office. I don't look back, but I can practically feel his eyes boring holes into my back as I walk away. It isn't until I turn the corner that my hands start to shake slightly. I take a deep breath and collect myself before I re-enter Sandra's office.
She smiles politely at me as I sit back down at the table. I hope I don't look flustered. "I've fixed the forms," she informs me. "I'm so sorry about that."
"It's okay," I reply. "I know how it goes."
She pushes the first form back to me, then goes through the next form, which is the release from liability. It's identical to what she emailed me, except the dates are filled in. I read through it again, then nod. The next form, which probably should have been the first form, is an official notice of resignation. The wording is changed slightly so that it says it's a "notification of dissolution of employment relationship." Whatever you need to tell yourself, Sandra. Then she gives me the last form, which she tells me is a non-disclosure agreement.
"I'm sorry, what?" I ask.
"A non-disclosure agreement is a legal document stating that you won't--"
I interrupt. "I know what a non-disclosure agreement is," I say, slightly irritated. "But this is the first I've heard of it. And why, exactly, are you interested in preventing me from disclosing what happened?"
"We don't want anyone to get unnecessarily riled up or upset," she tells me. "And I'm sure I mentioned it when I told you about the release."
"You didn't," I say shortly. I read through the agreement, which lays out very carefully, in great detail, that I cannot tell anyone in the entire world--including the Pope and Jesus and the Queen of England--the details of the dissolution of our employment relationship. Too bad I've already told several people. She can't possibly believe that no one knows. "I'm not signing this," I tell her. It explains her annoyance at me refusing to sign any of the other paperwork before seeing everything.
"It's a required document," she informs me. "The rest of the deal is void without it."
"Then I guess the rest of the deal is void," I say. There is no way I'm signing this document that she tried to sneak in here. I start to gather my things and put on my coat. I wasn't planning on suing before, because my need to make a point wasn't that strong. Now it is. "I imagine you'll be hearing from my attorney by the end of the week." This time I'm not bluffing. I'm already mentally composing a text to Evan to ask him for the contact information for the employment attorney he mentioned.
Sandra lets me get my coat on and get to the door. I turn before I leave and say, "I ran into Sean when I came out of the bathroom. We had an interesting chat. Tell him I said good luck." Then I put my hand on the knob and turn it.
I barely have the door open an inch when Sandra says, "Wait. I'm sure we can work something out." I turn back with one eyebrow raised skeptically. I wait silently for her to say more. "There's a chair outside my office," she goes on hurriedly. "Can you have a seat while I speak to our attorney?" I nod curtly and exit the office, shutting the door behind me.
As I sit down in the uncomfortable chair outside Sandra's office, I feel a rush of adrenaline. I shouldn't be getting so much pleasure from this interaction, but I am. I'm kind of in awe of my ability to negotiate with this powerful woman. It's awesome. Maybe I really am in the wrong business.
I wait for just a couple minutes before the door opens and Sandra steps out. "Come on in, Lauren. Sorry about that."
I walk in without saying anything and sit back down in my seat at the table. Sandra sits across from me. "Will you sign a revised non-disclosure agreement that only restricts you from speaking to the media?"
The media? Is this woman for real? I wonder what the fuck is actually going on here. I pause long enough to make her squirm. "I'd like to read it," I tell her. She hands it over and I read through. True to her word, from what I can tell, this agreement only limits me (or anyone acting under my direction) from speaking to the media regarding the details of the dissolution of our employment relationship. "I will sign this," I tell her. I have no desire to talk to the media. Actually, that's not entirely true. I had no desire to talk to the media until she told me I can't. Now I have a very strong desire to do so, but I know I don't want anything to do with the circus that would ensue.
The relief on Sandra's face is clear. I re-read all the forms to make sure she didn't sneakily try to change anything, then sign, initial, and check the right boxes. It's well after 5 by the time I leave with my copy of the forms I've signed.
I'm giddy with the excitement of the power I wielded today and I don't even notice Logan until he says my name. He's leaning against the passenger side of my car. "I thought this was your car," he says. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, have I got a story for you," I tell him, grinning. It's a good thing I didn't sign that original non-disclosure agreement. Still high on my power trip, I start to tell him everything that just went down.
Tuesday, January 19, 2016
Kinsley: He Kissed Me
This is the last Kinsley post for the week. Come back at the end of the week for the next Lauren post!
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At first, the situation didn't even register, and I let myself kiss him back briefly before I realized what was happening. It felt good, and I leaned into him, letting my hands travel up his arms and across his chest. As I was touching him, it occurred to me that I wasn't touching Damien, and I yanked my hands back then shoved him away from me, ending the kiss abruptly. "What the fuck?" I hissed. "Get the fuck away from me."
"Kinsley," Cole said, and he didn't look terribly sorry. "Come on, you know you wanted that as much as I did."
"I have a boyfriend, you motherfucker!" I spat at him. "And you fucking know that!"
"I won't tell him if you won't," he replied, lazily leaning against my car and cocking his head, watching me.
"Get. The fuck. Away. From me!" I snapped loudly, attracting the attention of a couple walking past. They watched us warily as they continued on. "You are such a fucking piece of shit," I half-whispered furiously to Cole. "Now move because I need to leave right now."
He moved away from my car and watched helplessly as I yanked the door open, got in, and slammed it closed so hard the whole car rocked slightly. "Fuck!" I yelped, once I was inside. I started the car, glanced quickly around to make sure no one was in my way, and gunned it onto the road. "Fuck fuck fuck what the fuck!"
Without thinking, I drove straight to Damien's house. I got out--almost forgetting to turn off my car--and pounded on the door. When he didn't answer, I rang the doorbell. I waited about 3 seconds, then rang it again. "Goddamn it," I muttered angrily. Just as I was getting ready to get back in my car, I saw a light go on. I knocked on the door again and waited.
The porch light turned on suddenly, then I heard the lock. The tears started the second Damien pulled open the door and blinked sleepily at me. "Kinsley?" he asked, looking confused. The confusion turned to concern when he saw I was crying. "Kinsley, what's wrong?"
"He kissed me," I choked out. "He kissed me." I repeated it one more time for good measure, then added a miserable, "I'm so sorry."
Damien blinked and rubbed his hand over his face, then stepped back and pulled the door open. "I think you should come in," he said placidly.
I nodded and stepped inside, dragging my pathetic ass over to his couch and collapsing in a heap. "I'm so sorry," I sobbed, pulling my knees up to my chest.
Damien tried to put an arm around me but I flinched and pulled away. "Kinsley, please try to calm down," he said patiently. That just made me cry harder. He leaned back against the back of the couch and yawned, waiting for me to calm down enough to tell him what was going on.
I finally managed to get it together a little bit. I wiped furiously at my face and almost lost it again when Damien handed me a Kleenex. I tried to take care of the situation that I was sure was happening under my eyes, but gave up. "He kissed me," I said for about the fifth time. "And I kissed him back. I didn't mean to. It was awful. I'm so sorry."
Now I had his attention. "Who kissed you?" he asked warily.
"Cole," I moaned miserably. "That motherfucker. I'm sorry. Damien, I'm sorry."
"Would you please just tell me what the hell is going on?" he snapped. His face was unreadable and he didn't raise his voice, but I could tell by how fast he was talking that he was agitated. "Who is Cole?"
I took a deep, shaky breath and began my explanation. I reminded him who Cole was, and his jaw twitched. I told him about running into him on Monday with Liv and Lauren, and him following me to my car. I told him that we'd run into him again tonight, and he'd walked me to my car because I was parked so far away. And then I told him what had happened when we got there. "And I'm sorry," I finished pathetically.
He sighed and rubbed his hand across his hair. "So, you just happened to run into him twice in the same week after not seeing him for months?" he asked. He had control of his words again, and he spoke at his normal rate.
"I thought it was weird too," I replied weakly. "But remember how many times James ran into Liv way back before they started dating?" I was grasping at straws to prove my innocence and realized that I was probably making myself sound guiltier.
"And he knows you have a boyfriend," Damien continued, clearly trying to make sense of everything. I was hopeful; it seemed like he wanted to believe me, even though my story was admittedly far fetched.
"Yes, he absolutely knows that," I told him. I tentatively reached for one of his hands but he moved it out of my reach. I bit my lip and looked down.
"So you happened to run into the guy you were fucking while we were broken up, not once but twice in the same week? And he walked you to your car, because you were parked far away and it was 1am on a Saturday, and any decent man would do that? And then he kissed you. And you kissed him back, but only for a second until you realized what was happening? And then you told him to get the fuck away from you, got in your car, and drove straight here?" His words were careful, his speech slow. I could tell he was processing everything out loud as he spoke, and the couple of words he emphasized were the only clue that he was unhappy.
I nodded and he leaned forward and put his face in his hands for several seconds before he looked back up at me. "It all sounds a little...unbelievable," he said.
"Yes," I said softly. "I know it does."
Without looking up, he said, "I need some time to process all this. It's late, so if you'd like to stay rather than drive home, you're welcome to the guest room."
I stood up, not sure what to do. "I..." I stopped. "I can just go home," I said reluctantly. I was worried about what would happen if I left, but I knew I needed to respect his need for some time and space. I grabbed my purse, which was tipped on its side on the floor next to the couch, and walked towards the door.
I was at the door when Damien said, "Wait." I stopped with my hand on the knob. "I'd prefer it if you stayed," he said quietly. "In the guest room. But here. You can go if you want, I understand. But...the last time you walked out of my house like this, everything got really fucked up. I want this to be different. I just need to think."
I turned around and he was watching me. "I just need to think," he repeated. "But I want you to stay. If you want to." His face was finally showing some signs of his emotions, and he looked weary, confused, and sad. I wasn't sure if that was better or worse than angry, which is what I had been expecting.
"I'd like to," I agreed. "I'm not sure I'm really in a good state to be driving this late."
He led me up to the guest room and left to let me get settled. In the attached bathroom I found a toothbrush, toothpaste, and generic face wash in the drawer of the vanity. I scrubbed off my makeup and brushed my teeth.
I came out of the bathroom just in time to hear Damien knock on the bedroom door. I opened it. He handed me a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. "The pants are too small for me, though they'll probably still be huge on you." I took them and we both stood there for a few seconds. As if he just remembered it, he held out his other hand, dangling a hooded sweatshirt towards me. He shrugged. "You know how cold it can be in here in the morning."
"Thank you," I said, taking the sweatshirt and laying it over the chair in the room.
"Do you need anything else?" he asked. "Did you find a toothbrush?"
"Yes," I replied, nodding. This felt so stiff, so formal. "I think I have everything I need. Thank you."
"You're welcome." He regarded me carefully for a minute, and I resisted the urge to throw myself at him, to wrap my arms around him so tightly that he'd have no choice but to hug me back. To my surprise, he stepped forward and put his arms around me. I sagged against his chest in relief, wrapping my arms tightly around his lower back and choking back a sob. I didn't want to start crying again. Too soon, he let go and stepped back. I bit my lip and looked at his chest. "I love you," he said softly.
"I love you too," I whispered. I made eye contact with him as I said it, maybe for the first time since I'd gotten here.
"Goodnight, Kinsley." And then he was gone. I heard his footsteps disappear down the hall to his room. I squeezed my eyes shut and sank down onto the bed, feeling like the worst person in the world. How could I have let this happen? I never should have let Cole walk me to my car. I should have gone with Liv and Lauren like someone with some common sense would have. I should have let them drive me to my car.
I fought back tears and I pulled my phone out of my purse and toyed with it. I desperately wanted to talk to someone, anyone, but I realized I had no one to talk to. Lauren would lecture me. Liv would be overly sympathetic, which I didn't want right now. This is when some of my friends would call their moms, or a sibling, I thought bitterly. Too bad my family was so fucked up.
I threw my phone across the room, and it hit the wall with a dull thud. I angrily pulled off my clothes and pulled Damien's t-shirt over my head. I looked desperately around the room for something to derive some minuscule bit of comfort from and settled on Damien's sweatshirt. I tucked it into a ball and climbed into bed, hugging the sweatshirt tightly against my body. Once more, I cursed my awful, fucked up family, and then I started to cry again.
I cried for about a half hour before I managed to calm myself down. I felt like such a disaster. I was sniffling and sucking in shaky breaths when I heard a very faint knock on the door. Before I could respond, the door slid open a couple inches. I rolled over and saw Damien slip into the room. He didn't say anything, he just climbed under the blankets and laid next to me, wrapping his arm tightly around me. I didn't say anything either, and soon I fell asleep--the first time I'd ever fallen asleep in someone's arms.
________________________________
At first, the situation didn't even register, and I let myself kiss him back briefly before I realized what was happening. It felt good, and I leaned into him, letting my hands travel up his arms and across his chest. As I was touching him, it occurred to me that I wasn't touching Damien, and I yanked my hands back then shoved him away from me, ending the kiss abruptly. "What the fuck?" I hissed. "Get the fuck away from me."
"Kinsley," Cole said, and he didn't look terribly sorry. "Come on, you know you wanted that as much as I did."
"I have a boyfriend, you motherfucker!" I spat at him. "And you fucking know that!"
"I won't tell him if you won't," he replied, lazily leaning against my car and cocking his head, watching me.
"Get. The fuck. Away. From me!" I snapped loudly, attracting the attention of a couple walking past. They watched us warily as they continued on. "You are such a fucking piece of shit," I half-whispered furiously to Cole. "Now move because I need to leave right now."
He moved away from my car and watched helplessly as I yanked the door open, got in, and slammed it closed so hard the whole car rocked slightly. "Fuck!" I yelped, once I was inside. I started the car, glanced quickly around to make sure no one was in my way, and gunned it onto the road. "Fuck fuck fuck what the fuck!"
Without thinking, I drove straight to Damien's house. I got out--almost forgetting to turn off my car--and pounded on the door. When he didn't answer, I rang the doorbell. I waited about 3 seconds, then rang it again. "Goddamn it," I muttered angrily. Just as I was getting ready to get back in my car, I saw a light go on. I knocked on the door again and waited.
The porch light turned on suddenly, then I heard the lock. The tears started the second Damien pulled open the door and blinked sleepily at me. "Kinsley?" he asked, looking confused. The confusion turned to concern when he saw I was crying. "Kinsley, what's wrong?"
"He kissed me," I choked out. "He kissed me." I repeated it one more time for good measure, then added a miserable, "I'm so sorry."
Damien blinked and rubbed his hand over his face, then stepped back and pulled the door open. "I think you should come in," he said placidly.
I nodded and stepped inside, dragging my pathetic ass over to his couch and collapsing in a heap. "I'm so sorry," I sobbed, pulling my knees up to my chest.
Damien tried to put an arm around me but I flinched and pulled away. "Kinsley, please try to calm down," he said patiently. That just made me cry harder. He leaned back against the back of the couch and yawned, waiting for me to calm down enough to tell him what was going on.
I finally managed to get it together a little bit. I wiped furiously at my face and almost lost it again when Damien handed me a Kleenex. I tried to take care of the situation that I was sure was happening under my eyes, but gave up. "He kissed me," I said for about the fifth time. "And I kissed him back. I didn't mean to. It was awful. I'm so sorry."
Now I had his attention. "Who kissed you?" he asked warily.
"Cole," I moaned miserably. "That motherfucker. I'm sorry. Damien, I'm sorry."
"Would you please just tell me what the hell is going on?" he snapped. His face was unreadable and he didn't raise his voice, but I could tell by how fast he was talking that he was agitated. "Who is Cole?"
I took a deep, shaky breath and began my explanation. I reminded him who Cole was, and his jaw twitched. I told him about running into him on Monday with Liv and Lauren, and him following me to my car. I told him that we'd run into him again tonight, and he'd walked me to my car because I was parked so far away. And then I told him what had happened when we got there. "And I'm sorry," I finished pathetically.
He sighed and rubbed his hand across his hair. "So, you just happened to run into him twice in the same week after not seeing him for months?" he asked. He had control of his words again, and he spoke at his normal rate.
"I thought it was weird too," I replied weakly. "But remember how many times James ran into Liv way back before they started dating?" I was grasping at straws to prove my innocence and realized that I was probably making myself sound guiltier.
"And he knows you have a boyfriend," Damien continued, clearly trying to make sense of everything. I was hopeful; it seemed like he wanted to believe me, even though my story was admittedly far fetched.
"Yes, he absolutely knows that," I told him. I tentatively reached for one of his hands but he moved it out of my reach. I bit my lip and looked down.
"So you happened to run into the guy you were fucking while we were broken up, not once but twice in the same week? And he walked you to your car, because you were parked far away and it was 1am on a Saturday, and any decent man would do that? And then he kissed you. And you kissed him back, but only for a second until you realized what was happening? And then you told him to get the fuck away from you, got in your car, and drove straight here?" His words were careful, his speech slow. I could tell he was processing everything out loud as he spoke, and the couple of words he emphasized were the only clue that he was unhappy.
I nodded and he leaned forward and put his face in his hands for several seconds before he looked back up at me. "It all sounds a little...unbelievable," he said.
"Yes," I said softly. "I know it does."
Without looking up, he said, "I need some time to process all this. It's late, so if you'd like to stay rather than drive home, you're welcome to the guest room."
I stood up, not sure what to do. "I..." I stopped. "I can just go home," I said reluctantly. I was worried about what would happen if I left, but I knew I needed to respect his need for some time and space. I grabbed my purse, which was tipped on its side on the floor next to the couch, and walked towards the door.
I was at the door when Damien said, "Wait." I stopped with my hand on the knob. "I'd prefer it if you stayed," he said quietly. "In the guest room. But here. You can go if you want, I understand. But...the last time you walked out of my house like this, everything got really fucked up. I want this to be different. I just need to think."
I turned around and he was watching me. "I just need to think," he repeated. "But I want you to stay. If you want to." His face was finally showing some signs of his emotions, and he looked weary, confused, and sad. I wasn't sure if that was better or worse than angry, which is what I had been expecting.
"I'd like to," I agreed. "I'm not sure I'm really in a good state to be driving this late."
He led me up to the guest room and left to let me get settled. In the attached bathroom I found a toothbrush, toothpaste, and generic face wash in the drawer of the vanity. I scrubbed off my makeup and brushed my teeth.
I came out of the bathroom just in time to hear Damien knock on the bedroom door. I opened it. He handed me a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. "The pants are too small for me, though they'll probably still be huge on you." I took them and we both stood there for a few seconds. As if he just remembered it, he held out his other hand, dangling a hooded sweatshirt towards me. He shrugged. "You know how cold it can be in here in the morning."
"Thank you," I said, taking the sweatshirt and laying it over the chair in the room.
"Do you need anything else?" he asked. "Did you find a toothbrush?"
"Yes," I replied, nodding. This felt so stiff, so formal. "I think I have everything I need. Thank you."
"You're welcome." He regarded me carefully for a minute, and I resisted the urge to throw myself at him, to wrap my arms around him so tightly that he'd have no choice but to hug me back. To my surprise, he stepped forward and put his arms around me. I sagged against his chest in relief, wrapping my arms tightly around his lower back and choking back a sob. I didn't want to start crying again. Too soon, he let go and stepped back. I bit my lip and looked at his chest. "I love you," he said softly.
"I love you too," I whispered. I made eye contact with him as I said it, maybe for the first time since I'd gotten here.
"Goodnight, Kinsley." And then he was gone. I heard his footsteps disappear down the hall to his room. I squeezed my eyes shut and sank down onto the bed, feeling like the worst person in the world. How could I have let this happen? I never should have let Cole walk me to my car. I should have gone with Liv and Lauren like someone with some common sense would have. I should have let them drive me to my car.
I fought back tears and I pulled my phone out of my purse and toyed with it. I desperately wanted to talk to someone, anyone, but I realized I had no one to talk to. Lauren would lecture me. Liv would be overly sympathetic, which I didn't want right now. This is when some of my friends would call their moms, or a sibling, I thought bitterly. Too bad my family was so fucked up.
I threw my phone across the room, and it hit the wall with a dull thud. I angrily pulled off my clothes and pulled Damien's t-shirt over my head. I looked desperately around the room for something to derive some minuscule bit of comfort from and settled on Damien's sweatshirt. I tucked it into a ball and climbed into bed, hugging the sweatshirt tightly against my body. Once more, I cursed my awful, fucked up family, and then I started to cry again.
I cried for about a half hour before I managed to calm myself down. I felt like such a disaster. I was sniffling and sucking in shaky breaths when I heard a very faint knock on the door. Before I could respond, the door slid open a couple inches. I rolled over and saw Damien slip into the room. He didn't say anything, he just climbed under the blankets and laid next to me, wrapping his arm tightly around me. I didn't say anything either, and soon I fell asleep--the first time I'd ever fallen asleep in someone's arms.
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