Cinderella Man

It was ten minutes past noon when Aubrey arrived at work on Friday. Her criminal justice class had been a swift breeze that morning. Just as soon as she sat down in her chair, her phone rang.

“Can a girl breathe before you bombard her?” she asked, knowing it was him. He was the only person who would call her just as soon as she walked through the doors. How he knew when she arrived was beyond her.

“What’s the matter?” he chuckled. “I thought you could handle me?”

Though she hated to admit it, Aubrey enjoyed Marshall’s perverted advances. It was so uninhibited and just the thought of the raw sex he offered made goose bumps pop up all over her skin. He looked like a great fuck.

“What do you want?” she asked with agitation behind her voice. She would never allow him the pleasure of knowing what went through her mind.

“What’s for lunch?”

She sighed while looking at the clock. Sure enough, it was lunch time. “Is that all you ever think about?” It was a rhetorical question, but Marshall felt obliged to answer it anyway.

“No, it’s tied with sex,” he snickered. Somehow, she knew he was going to say that.

She hung up the phone, smirking as an idea crawled into her mind. She quickly picked up the phone again, dialing the number of a very popular French restaurant. She placed her order, grinning all the while. She could just picture his face when he saw what she ordered.

…

Fifteen minutes later she barged through his door, a mischievous smile plastered on her porcelain face. She was up to something and from the glint in her eyes, he knew he wouldn’t like it.

She gently placed the box of food in front of him, neatly setting a fork beside it. “Bon appétit.”

He cocked an eyebrow, his sapphire eyes darting from the box to her smirk. He placed a hand on the lid, slowly lifting it.

Wrinkles formed in his forehead as he furrowed his eyebrows, scrunching his nose. “What the fuck is this?” The food before him looked like a dog shit all over a plate of spaghetti. They weren’t meatballs, that was for sure.

She giggled, “Escargot.”

“Snails? Are you fucking serious?”

Her laugh erupted, echoing through the room. His facial expression was priceless. “They’re an aphrodisiac in France.”

He closed the lid, pushing the box away. “Look, if you wanted to get me horny all you had to do is unbutton that shirt a little more,” he winked, gesturing to her red button-down.

’I should have seen that coming,’ she thought. She didn’t deliberately leave a few buttons undone, it was her subconscious. And the fact that she just looked stupid if she buttoned it up all the way. “Is that a no to the snails?” she asked, ignoring his comment.

“It’s a hell no.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head.

“I thought so,” she said as she placed the box back in the brown paper bag. She turned to leave, but stopped when she reached the door. She turned around to look at him, “Are you coming?”

“Where?” he asked, his interest piqued. Hotel? Her place? Hell, the bathroom down the hall. It didn’t matter to him. ‘Maybe she had some of these snails,’ he thought.

“Lunch.”

…

He usually ate in his office, isolated from everyone. He enjoyed the quiet his office offered. He wasn’t much of a people person. Why did he agree to go out to lunch with her? He was hungry and it didn’t look like he would get food any other way. Besides, change once in a while is good.

She sat across from him, spinning her spaghetti around her fork. She was surprised he agreed to come. She got the sense that he liked being by himself, but she was happy that he decided to leave the dark, gloomy office and join the rest of humanity. She was beginning to think he might be a vampire.

She giggled as she imagined a sparkling Marshall. She ignored the strange look he gave her as she placed the fork into her mouth, pulling the spaghetti off. She caught his stare and stopped chewing, “What?”

He shook his head. She would definitely sue him for sexual harassment if he told her that he was imagining his dick inside her mouth instead of the fork. “Lucky fork,” he mumbled. It was getting more action than he was- and he was the boss. If anyone should be getting any, it should be him. He was paying her after all.

She brushed away his mumble, “You don’t like the steak?” She gestured to the full plate in front of him.

No, the steak was good. Perhaps the best he ever had, but his mind was preoccupied with eating something else…

Aubrey shuddered involuntarily. She didn’t know why. She wasn’t cold. Then she caught Marshall’s eyes on her again, his beautiful blue orbs piercing through her. She arched an eyebrow.

“Don’t sue me, but you got some beautiful tits.” The red, form-fitted shirt was tempting him. Her breasts were slightly exposed, leaving him to want more.

Her face turned as red as her shirt as she glued her eyes to her plate of food. Of course he would say something that inappropriate. ”Don’t tempt me,” she warned. She could sue him, sure, but then she would be out of a job possibly until she finished law school. No one wanted to hire her before Marshall and no one would definitely hire her afterwards. Besides, she enjoyed the compliments, the naughty flirting.

“Maybe you should try those snails yourself,” he suggested as he took a bite of hit steak. He had no problem getting horny, but she was a different story- a dry, bitter story.

“My sex life is perfectly fine if that’s what you’re implying,” she defended. She took a sip of her strawberry martini, her intense glare never leaving him.

“From where I’m sitting,” he smirked, leaning back in his chair, “you look like the Sahara desert.”

“I got a lawyer on speed dial,” she warned, her cheeks burning. He was right, though. It had been seven months since she last enjoyed male company- Michael’s company to be exact.

“Give me a chance, sweetheart, and I’ll have you flooding like the Nile.” His smirk grew wider, if possible. He enjoyed tormenting her with his lame attempts at flirting. Unlike every other woman, she didn’t jump at him or fall eagerly to her knees for him. It had been a while since he enjoyed the thrill of a chase. In fact, the last time he chased a girl was Kim back in high school.

“It takes a lot of rain to flood the Nile and from what I hear,” it was her turn to smirk, “you don’t last too long.” Two could play this game.

He threw his head back, laughing. “Try me.”

…

It was seven o’clock when Aubrey left the Shady records building. After the horrible torment of lunch, she attacked the stack of papers on her desk. She wanted to finish everything before they left for the Bahamas on Sunday.

She was excited. It was a much needed vacation, even if it consisted of her perverted boss. She smiled as she recalled their conversation during lunch. She had never been chased before, let alone hit on.

She wasn’t ugly; at least she hoped she wasn’t. The only man she devoted her attention to was Michael. She was at his feet, ready to do anything to receive the smallest ounce of love. Everyone has a weakness, and he was hers.

She sighed, pushing the thoughts of him aside. He was the last person she wanted to think about. As she pulled up to her apartment, she noticed a dark figure leaning against her door. She couldn’t make out who it was.

Her heartbeat sped up as she, with cell phone gripped tightly in her hand and ready to dial 911, approached the figure. ’Shit,’ she cursed to herself, recognizing the dark spiked hair. His toned, tattooed arms were exposed from the white wife-beater. His baggy jeans were sagging as always. His emerald eyes met hers, sending her emotions to a familiar place. Her stomach fluttered, her palms began to sweat. She was still in love with him.

’How the fuck did he find me?’