Her Other Man

An eight o' clock alarm blared and Rita awoke. The annoying sound had put to end the sweet dream she was having and left her briefly disoriented. Rita pressed her hand to her chest and felt her heart beating like a drumline. At any other time she would have been wailing because of the sudden noise that had brought her back to reality, disgusted by the almost empty studio apartment she calls home, barely more than a glorified closet. But the residue of the dream passing through her body and mind made her smile.

Rita turned and glanced over at the book on the bedside table, its title "How To Do It Blind" an enticing promise. A few years ago, she would have given anything to be in a situation where she could feel the gentle caress of unknown hands tracing her skin while her wrists hanged above her head, blindfolded of course. To have her body tremble from the vibrating clicks against her walls. Now, the mere thought of having all that with a real life breathing man sent shivers down her spine, not of a feral hunger but of fear. After the dangerous ordeal she went through at the mercy of a man, Rita vowed never to love again. Her broken heart won't take it.

Rita shook off the resentful feeling, surrendering her body to soft silk mattress. As she settled in, she began her daily affirmation, her voice a gentle whisper

"I want to live a life like Madison Teal, I want to wake up to smell of coffee brewing and fresh stack pancakes made by my chef, I want to go straight to the kitchen... scrap that, I want the kitchen to come straight to me in bed and all I'll have to do is the streneos task of ringing a bell", at the end she sighed loudly, knowing her life won't look anything like Madison Teal if she does not stand up and go to work.

Her red, curly hair framed her face, spilling down her shoulders like a cascade of flames. Her dark eyes fringed with thick lashes that added to her alluring pear-shaped figure. She reached for her iPad, and her gaze fell upon the first notification of the day - a message from her co-worker that read: You have a prompt meeting with Miss Madison Teal.

With a swift gesture, she let the iPad slip from her fingers, it landed with a soft thud on the way to the cold bathroom floor. As she eased herself, her gaze fell on her iPad buzzing from the floor, demanding her attention. It was Madison. Her stomach twisted.

Madison Teal. So many thought came to mind when thinking about a million reasons why the widow maker was calling. Ever since Rita became her junior assistant, Madison had been cleverly searching for ways to get rid of her, Rita had unintentionally became an image of a thorn in Madison's garden of roses. She stopped getting the good deals and was not invited to her private office parties.

Which was not a bother to Rita as she would rather not be ass kissing on a Friday night when there are real parties with real fun outside. She rinsed her mouth, slipped into a pair of black leggings and a fitted top that showed off her curves, and grabbed her leather jacket. As she made her way to the agency, the journey seemed to stretch on indefinitely, its usual distance magnified by the fact that she had to walk all the way. Her decision to exhaust her funds on a studio apartment in one of Coral City's luxurious complexes had left her without the means to take a more suitable mode of transportation, forcing her to strut along with a confident air that masked her inner frustration.

Rita couldn't do anything but stare

When she entered Madison's office which is conveniently located amidst other offices, the air is thick with tension and Rita felt her stomach lurch again. In a corner of the office, a jumbled stack of boxes stood like a testament to Madison fragmented identity, topped with mannequin heads adorned with an assortment of wigs, each one a representation of the various personas she had assumed. The blank stares of the mannequin heads seemed to hold a silent understanding of the complex, multifaceted person she was.

Jeff, the senior assistant, a seasoned professional won't meet her eyes, and Rita could see why as soon as she stepped into Madison office. Behind her desk, the queen sat, wearing her brown coat which she only wears when she has an important meeting. Infront of her, a woman in furs sat legs crossed. Very demure.

"Rita," Madison began, her expression is unreadable, but the smirk and direct eye contact scream I've got you now. "I've been noticing some.... relapse in your work lately"

Rita bit hard on her lips. She knew this was coming, but hearing out loud was painful. "I'm sorry, Madison"

"Never mind I understand your current situation"

With not a particularly nice smile, Rita replied "Thank you".

"Don't thank me, I need your help," Madison cleared her throat and Rita's heart sank "My daughter Emily is getting married. And I was wondering if you could help her plan the wedding".

For a moment Rita just stood there, looking at Madison, scared to be mocked at. "I'm sorry, Madison" she stammered. " I am not the right person for the job"