Samantha's Last Day

 Samantha Monroe was glad that she had found a new position as Jason Masters' personal executive assistant, and at the same time she was apprehensive about her first day at work. He'd told her to arrive at nine in the morning. She'd gotten up at seven this morning to get ready, so she could be there on time.

She tried to follow the specifications that he'd given her for her appearance, even if she didn't like some of what he wanted.

She decided to make the most of her physical features, within the confines of what he required. 

She stood in front of a mirror to survey her appearance, before she left for work. She'd chosen the shortest, tightest black skirt that she owned, black stilettos, a black thong that was the barest of wisps of lace, and an emerald green shirt that matched her eyes. It wasn't low-cut, but she'd gotten around that requirement by leaving it unbuttoned enough so that very little was left to the imagination.

It seemed like her new boss didn't like to have things left to his imagination. 

Because she didn't really want the attention that her state of un-dress would cause on the subway, nor did she want to freeze to death on the way to Jason Masters' office, she wrapped a thick black wool cape around her, and wrapped a black scarf around her auburn hair. 

Samantha arrived at her new employer's office at 8:45. She slipped off the cape, and left it at the desk outside Jason's office, that he had indicated was hers when she was not in his office.

She took a deep breath, smoothed her tight skirt, and then knocked on the closed door of his office. Here we go, she thought to herself.....

Once she'd knocked, she instinctively moved back from the door, and waited. 

Silence.

Minutes went by, and still silence. She waited, and when thirty minutes had passed, according the cloak on the office wall, she wondered if she should knock again, or wait longer. She had knocked loud enough that she knew if he was in his office, he'd heard her.

Maybe he was busy. Jason sure didn't seem like the kind of boss one would interrupt; especially not on one's first day. It might become her last day, and she knew it. 

So......she waited. 

At shortly after ten, standing in one place in the stilettos was getting uncomfortable, so she crossed the floor to the desk where she'd left her cloak, and sank into the chair in front of it.

She looked around the room in curiosity. She'd hadn't really looked around much during her interview. Her focus had been on getting the job. 

For the most part, it was quiet, although she did hear muted voices that sounded like they were coming from the room next to the one she was in right now. 

"Good morning, Miss Monroe."

Samantha blinked, startled. She'd gotten so busy surveying her surroundings that she hadn't noticed that Jason Masters had opened the door of his office and was standing in front of her.

"Good morning, Sir.", she said quickly, as she was trying to get up out of the chair she was in. 

"Don't get up.", he said. 

Samantha swallowed hard, and looked up at her employer's dark, unreadable eyes. At least he didn't seem angry; that was good. 

She gave a sideways glance up at him. With two fingers , he moved her face so that she was looking directly up at him. She averted her eyes, thinking it would be unwise to meet his gaze.

"Look at me.", he commanded. 

Samantha gulped, but she met his dark eyes with her own in a steady gaze. She knew that she would never last here if she didn't. 

While he wanted her to be afraid of him, she was gambling on the fact that he didn't want a woman who showed it. 

"You're late."

"I beg your pardon? I was here at 8:45 this morning. Check your security cameras.", Samantha replied in a cool tone.

"Do NOT argue with me. Ever. I am always right. You were late.", he told her in a neutral voice. 

"I was late.", Samantha repeated after him in a low voice. She was trying to figure out her new boss. She began to wonder for the first time just how long she would work here.

"Please do inside my office and wait for me. I won't be but a few moments.", Jason said. Before he had even finished speaking to her, his back was turned to her.

"Take your clothes off before I return, or it will be worse for you.", he advised her. 

"Worse? There's nothing good about this situation, Mr. Masters.", Samantha said.

"You are correct, in that, Miss Monroe; for you, there most assuredly is not.", he confirmed.

Samantha felt his open hand strike her face like quicksilver. Before she'd known what was happening, he turned around and struck her face, hard, with his open hand. His eyes blazed. She was truly afraid he might kill her, in the moment.

"Go to my office and wait for me."

Samantha looked at the room, as she pretended to be moving towards the door of his office. He was turned from her. It appeared he was looking for something in a cabinet near the desk that he'd said was to be hers.

Quick as a cat, she kicked off the stilettos and was out the door, leaving the stilettos and the cape she'd worn behind.

She scrambled towards the building entrance as fast as she could. Her life depended on it. He was actually pursuing her! Hot tears ran down her face. She could feel the place on her face where he had struck her swelling already. How had she EVER thought she wanted to work here?!

She could feel his hot breath on the back of her hair....or was it her imagination??? 

The iron grip of his hand circled her arm, and he shook her hard, and shoved her against the wall. She had narrowly missed getting out of the building. So close, and yet now, it was very far away indeed.

"I would have preferred to have handled your punishment for being late privately, Miss Monroe, but it seems like I need to do something that conveys to you my displeasure, so that your bad behavior doesn't happen again." His mouth was at her left ear, his body flattening hers against the wall.

"Let me go....PLEASE let me go!", she begged in desperation.

"In good time, Miss Monroe.", he promised.

He lifted his hand and struck her again. 

"Do not run from me again. You belong to me. I will kill you if you ever run from me again.", he promised. "Do you understand, my pretty Samantha?"

"Yes", she said softly, dully, dazed from his anger and the latest blow to her face. 

People were actually walking by them in the office. Not one of them tried to help her, or even looked at what he was doing to her.

How had she ever decided to come here????

It was the last thought Samantha Monroe had......

The New Girl....Kind Of

 Jason Masters tapped his fingers on his desk impatiently. He was tired of the persistent lateness of his current secretary. She had no redeeming qualities. She wasn't even easy on his eyes. 

He had a client that owned a local recruitment agency and gave him a call. Maybe this time he would try a serious of temps out before he settled on a permanent replacement. 

For now, his chief financial officer's secretary was pinch-hitting for him. She could set up interview times with a few of the temps the agency sent over. As the day went on, this seemed like a better and better idea.

Dammit, where was she?! She had gone to lunch at 12, and it was after 2 already, and he had a 3 o'clock appointment that he needed her here for. Lately she'd been out of the office more than she was in. He did have some sympathy for her situation, as it appeared she'd had an accident of some kind, what with the bandages and baggy clothes. It was really the only reason that she was still here now; he felt sorry for her. She really hadn't been lazy or a bad secretary, at first. It seemed more to him like she was just bored with her job. 

Be that as it may, enough was enough, and Jason Masters had had it with Samantha Monroe. 

He heard the door to the outer office where her desk was open and close, and he knew she was back (finally!). Time for Miss Monroe's pink slip. He was in no mood to wait until the end of the day. 

Just as he picked up the phone to buzz Samantha to come into his office (he'd decided he could handle the 3 o'clock appointment without her), he himself got a phone call, and so was momentarily delayed. 

By the time he'd finished the call he was on, it was 5 until 3, and Samantha buzzed him that his appointment was here when he was available. Her voice sounded funny; he wondered if she had a bad cold or something.... but he told her to send his client in, and to bring them coffee once she had. 

Jason was standing behind his desk chair as the door to his office opened. He had smiled, expecting to see the silver-haired man who was one of his longest term clients, Hugh Sanderson. Instead, he saw a delicate, auburn-haired flower clad in green that most perfectly matched those cat eyes of hers. He didn't recognize her at first, but Jason Masters did a double-take when he realized who she was. It was his very own, nearly fired secretary, Samantha Monroe. Hugh Sanderson seemed quite pleased with how Miss Monroe had been treating him while he was waiting. His complaint seemed to be that Jason was actually ready to discuss business.

At the moment, Jason could not even remember what he and Hugh were planning to discuss. This one time, he didn't care! He did very much care that he had to at least pretend to concentrate on any conversation they had. Any plans that Jason Masters had to terminate Samantha Monroe's employment with him went right out the window. 

"Would you like coffee now, Sir?", she asked, in that different-sounding voice. 

"Er....yes, thank you.", Jason said. He was mildly irritated with himself that she was having the effect on him that she was, and that his business partner knew it. It was one thing for her to have that effect on Hugh, but she was HIS secretary!

Samantha swished out, and swished back in with coffee. As she placed Jason's cup on his desk, she brushed against him, and he could smell her perfume. He sighed, although it sounded (even to him) like more of a growl. 

Hugh chuckled and shook his head. Jason frowned.

"That will be all for now, Samantha. Thank you.",  Jason said, in a clipped tone.

But he wasn't happy when her emerald green form disappeared behind the closing office door.

Hugh actually took pity on Jason, and asked if they could table their discussion for another time, that something had come up that was rather pressing, that he needed to attend to. Jason breathed an inward sigh of relief, and agreed. He hoped his relief wasn't too apparent.

Once Hugh had left, Jason cleared his throat, and he came to the door of his office.

"Samantha, could you please come in here for a minute?"

"Yes, Sir. Do I need to bring anything with me?"

"Just yourself.", he said.

Samantha giggled lightly. 

"Samantha, I have not been happy with your performance lately. You've been late, and missing work a good bit. You also haven't been doing a very good job. I have been patient, but my patience is at an end. Today is your last day of employment with me."

Samantha's green eyes widened, and she started to cry.

"I knew you didn't like me. All I was trying to do was fix things so maybe you would. ", she sniffed. 

Jason softened a little and handed her a Kleenex.

"So that's what all this was, in front of Hugh, then?", he asked her.

She nodded. "You've always acted like I was invisible. "

Jason looked at her. "You weren't invisible.", he said softly. "But I like the green dress."

He shook his head and smiled. "You're not fired and you damn well know it. But I could throttle you for the day you did it. I am never going to live this down with Hugh Sanderson."

"He liked my green dress, too."

"Yes, I know he did.", Jason growled. 

Jason's reserve was gone, and he grabbed Samanthaand pulled her down on his lap. She squealed.

"I can't really decide if I want to kiss you or kill you! But I think I'm going with kiss."

"You're working late tonight. No excuses."

Invitation Only

 My name is Cassandra. My employers, Mr. and Mrs. Alfred Windsor, are having an invitation only soiree tonight for the Blue Book crowd. You know, the ritsy social register kind of people? THAT Blue Book. Guess what? Unknown to them, I, Cassandra Nobody, will be among their honored guests. The best part? They won't even know it is me! (Haha!)

The Windsors' lovely daughter, Margaret? Margaret is bored with fancy costume parties that she's required to attend to keep up appearances for her parents. Margaret wanted to attend another event with a young gentleman, who shall remain nameless. So, I, Cassandra, ended up with Margaret's designer costume to wear to the event. In addition, I'll be well fed and entertained. Oh, and did I mention, Margaret gave me real sterling silver jewelry and actual money besides?! Whoever HE is, it sure was awfully important to Miss Margaret, wasn't it now? I wondered how she was going to get out of the house in the first place. But I'm not complaining. That's her little problem to deal with, as far as I'm concerned. Ask no questions. I'm just the kitchen help, you understand.

Just this afternoon, I came down with a terrible case of the flu, don't you know? None of the staff wants to catch it. The Windsors CAN'T have kitchen staff contaminating any food or drinks for their lofty friends. So..... I am in my own comfortable quarters, to rest. I was even given a bottle of brandy, on the condition that I quarantined myself away from everyone else.

Let's see what Margaret's costume looks like. Luckily we are about the same size.... Margaret told me that she was going as the Lady of the Lake, straight out of Arthurian legend. (You know.....King Arthur, Guinevere, Lancelot, Merlin, Morgan le Fay, that kind of thing.....)

Wow! Her costume is just beautiful! Fortune smiled upon me to even look upon it. Gossamer silk, light as air, in a shade of blue that truly is the sea incarnate! It looks as though it has silver lights running through it.....cloth of silver, finer than any cloth of gold ever dared to be. It is truly exquisite, to the point of taking my breath away when I touch or gaze upon it. I can't believe that I am getting the chance to wear anything like it.

The slippers that complete the costume are of a blue a shade darker than the dress, with silver satin heels. There is a tiny deep blue sapphire stone on the top of each slipper. They are utterly elegant. Any Lady of the Lake would be fortunate to possess them.

The tiny sapphire pendant that Margaret gave me will be perfect with it.

Let's see. I've looked at my costume. Where's the invitation?

It is true that Margaret herself wouldn't really need one, but to insure that I would be able to assume her place in her stead, she brought me one of the engraved invitations and replies that the guests had received.

"If you have any trouble, show the doorman this.", Margaret had told her. In her hands were a small silver-edged card, that matched the invitations. I clasped it in my hands carefully.

Cassandra was going Invitation Only.

Brooklyn Starlight

 Platinum blonde, glistening in the moonlight

Dancing on Arthur's terrace

Alone with him while the party goes on inside without us

For a perfect time, no one notices.....

We will dance and drink champagne until they do.

Winter Snow in New York

 Arthur and Marilyn left their Brooklyn townhouse around ten that cold Thursday morning. The plan was to have a leisurely drive to the old country inn that Arthur had found for them for a long weekend. He'd taken great pains with the plans for their weekend.

Marilyn wasn't really concerned about the details; he had said that he would handle them, and she had been so stressed and exhausted lately that she didn't really ask him all that much about anything. She was just glad that he was. All of the necessary recent secrecy had taken its toll on her.

Marilyn had dressed warmly, in black slacks and a fuzzy black sweater, her figure encased in a white fur. A black leather purse strap hung loosely from her left shoulder. She'd insisted on bringing Blackjack, her Jack Russell terrier, with her for the trip, and she was carrying him in her arms.

She breathed a sigh of relief that no reporters were waiting outside when they came outside. It always seemed that they had an inside track to their plans.

Arthur helped her into the car, and then

walked to the driver's side. All of the things that they were taking with them from here were already in the car. Arthur had made arrangements for anything else that they might want or need to be at the inn upon their arrival.

At first neither of the pair spoke. Arthur simply drove, and Marilyn petted Blackjack. But it wasn't a stilted silence; it was rather a companionable one.

Marilyn opened a book for poetry and began reading. After awhile,

Arthur asked her to light him a cigarette, and she did. He wrapped his right arm around her, as she slid it between his lips.

Marilyn snuggled closer, and laid her head on his shoulder. Blackjack had taken it upon himself to hop into the back seat of the car, and was curled up for a nap.

She had her hand on the knob of the radio to turn some music on, but thought better of it. While music was welcome, news reports might not be.

About halfway into their trip, Marilyn was just about to ask Arthur if they could stop so that she could go to the bathroom, when he made a left turn, off the main road.

"Where are we going?", she asked.

"Wait and see.", he replied. The hint of a smile curved his lips.

"Is there a bathroom where we are going?", she asked.

He laughed lightly. "I imagine that there is."

A few minutes later, he parked their car under huge shade trees.

To Marilyn, it looked like a forest. It was only when they got out of the car (Blackjack was on his burnished leather leash), that she saw an old farmhouse. As they approached, she saw restaurant sign, and her face brightened.

"Lunch?", she asked hopefully. "I'm starving."

Nevermind the bathroom, right this minute.

Brief amusement crossed her husband's face, but he nodded.

"I thought you might enjoy it."

Marilyn hurried to the bathroom as soon as they were inside, and then they were shown to their table, near the fireplace.

She slid the fur off her shoulders in the chair that she was seated in, and Blackjack curled up at her feet. She'd insisted on water and a blanket for him. Of course, he could share something from lunch.

Arthur teased Marilyn lightly about something or other, and she laughed that impossibly feminine laugh of hers, which never failed to entrance him.

Lunch was salade nicoise, a loaf of crusty, golden French bread with herbed butter, and a bottle of French Chardonnay. Dessert was creme brulee.

"It's just wonderful here!", Marilyn said softly. "Thank you. "

Arthur smiled. "I am pleased that you liked it. ". His eyes lingered on his beautiful wife for a few moments, and then he asked, "Are you ready to leave now?"

"Almost." She flushed light pink. "I need to visit the bathroom again."

She added. "It's a girl thing."

Arthur smiled. "Don't I know it." He hesitated for a minute, then added, "I like it."

"Really??", she asked breathlessly. Her eyes met his.

"Really.", he assured her, and clasped her hands in his, then kissed them.

Once they were back in the car with Blackjack, and on their way, Marilyn fell asleep. For whatever reason, Arthur found it oddly pleasing to watch her sleep. He found it hard to keep his mind on driving.

Once they'd arrived at the inn where they were staying, Arthur laid a hand over on his wife, to awaken her.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep. Guess I was really tired.", she said, as she stretched a little.

Her eyes widened a little when she saw the inn that they were to stay at for the weekend. "It's perfect.", she said softly.

Just as they were out of the car, and the door of the old inn, soft snow began to fall. Marilyn giggled happily as it fell on her face.

Always Late for Something

 Marilyn had been late all day, for everything and everywhere that she was supposed to arrive. She sighed, and shrugged. People always said that about her, anyway. It just happened that today it was true. She was tired, and was very glad when she'd finished the appointments and commitments that she had for the day.

When she arrived for this special-- and very secret-- appointment that she had, she noticed a snowflake that landed on her black wool coat. She shivered a little as the cold New York wind blew around her, and seemed to permeate her clothing.

Marilyn took the elevator up to the appropriate floor. She had on a black hat, scarf, and dark glasses to hide her face, and signature platinum hair, but she was relieved that she was the only person there. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to recognize her right now. If what she suspected was true, the news would leak out quickly enough. News always did about her, especially anything regarding her personal life; it was the way of things. And this was most definitely personal. It was just that she would like to be able to confirm that it was true, inform Arthur, and have a little bit of time to relax and relish the news before the press was all over both of them about it.

The elevator reached the floor that her doctor's office was on, and she stepped off carefully. She shivered again. It felt as cold in here to her as it had outside just now, when she'd seen the snowflake. Hopefully the doctor would have heat in the exam room....or at least a warm blanket. Maybe she could have some warm tea.

Because of her previous attempts with Arthur at having a family, she hadn't mentioned to him her suspicions this time, and, as he was currently very busy on some rewrites that needed to be done very quickly on his upcoming play, and she herself had been busy with her own full schedule of public appearances, she didn't think he'd noticed the signs that she had. In fact, she'd waited longer than she usually did to even make a doctor's appointment about it. Maybe this time they would be among the fortunate.

It is not that she didn't expect some issues with a pregnancy. At this point, that seemed a foregone conclusion to her. But she was hoping that she would indeed be able to carry, and give birth to, Arthur's child. She very much wanted a family. While on some level, she knew that Arthur did not feel about her as she did him, she DID believe that he cared about her, and that they could have a family together. She herself wasn't so very concerned about whether her child was a daughter or a son, but she knew that Arthur was. But in that, he was really not so different than a lot of men.

Marilyn knew that if she found out she was carrying Arthur's child this afternoon, she herself would tell Hollywood that she was taking some time for herself, and Arthur, and their coming family. She was fairly confident that she would have Arthur's backing, and he had his way of being able to get the press to back off at times, in a way that she herself knew that she could not do.

She opened the door of the doctor's office, and walked to the receptionist. It was late in the day, and so just as she smiled at the receptionist, the one patient waiting was taken to a room by a nurse. She had kind of planned the timing of her appointment, hoping that it would be this way.

The only sound in the office was some soft background instrumental music playing. She sat down in an overstuffed black leather chair that was near the door where patients were called, and waited. Not exactly patiently, but she was calm enough. At least it was warmer in here than in the elevator.

She figured that her waiting time would feel like an eternity to her, but it seemed that no sooner than she had sat down in the chair than the nurse motioned for her to come with her.

Once she was in the exam room, the nurse asked her a few questions, and took a urine and a blood sample, then excused herself while Marilyn removed her clothes and put on a robe in preparation for the doctor to examine her.

Once she was undressed, Marilyn shivered again, but there was a warm blanket for her, and she wrapped it around her.

A few minutes later, the doctor knocked, and then entered the room. He asked Marilyn a few questions, and then examined her.

When he finished, he left the room so that Marilyn could dress, and asked her to come to his office, next door to the exam room. Marilyn searched his face eagerly for any sign of what he might tell her, but even to her sharp eyes, it was unreadable. But innately she knew that this time it wasn't a false alarm or bad news.

She dressed as quickly as she could, and walked next door to his office.

"Please sit.", he said quietly. He was half-way turned around, but he had turned around to acknowledge her presence in his office.

Marilyn was filled with anticipation; her face showed it, and he smiled.

"Well???", she finally asked. "Am I?"

"I would say to Mrs. Miller. Better late than never. "

The words might have sounded unkind to her, if not for the smile on his face. He was honestly happy for her. Very few patients were quite as eager as this one.

It turns out that she was further along than she has suspected, which he explained was good news to her. But he also ordered rest and relaxation, and minimal stress for her.

"Oh, I promise, I promise, doctor!", she said happily. Impulsively, in signature Marilyn fashion, she kissed his cheek.

He told her that he would like to see her frequently, and asked her to return within two weeks. He seemed to sense her unspoken question, and took her hands in his, gently.

"I see no reason not to tell him, Marilyn. Trust me; everything's going to be fine this time."

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Starry Night

 There is nothing quite so amazing as a Winter Solstice ushered in by shining silvery stars in a midnight sky. Starry night, anyone?