Editor's note: this submission contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sexual situations.
*
Josh was trying not to cry. At times like this, I almost feel bad about the job I have to do. Then I remember that I am the one in charge and if I don't do it, no one else who will.
When you are the head of a large company, the only people who can really understand the challenges you face are the ones who do the same thing. No one else gets it. No one understands the pressure I am under.
I am the CEO of an advertising company. The billboards you pass on your way to work, the ads you flick through in magazines, the commercials on TV, chances are I had a hand in at least half of them.
Advertising is not important, you might think. Plenty of people do. And yet, millions of dollars are made and lost on the deals I make. That's why Josh is trying to not to cry. He was supposed to organise a meeting between myself and one of the company's most important clients for today, the 7
th
. Instead, he accidently told them it was on the 17
th
, so it never happened.
'Do you have any idea how fucking important this is?' I told him when he arrived in my office, already knowing what he was in for. 'Do you have any clue at all just how much money is on the line here?'
I did all the talking. Even when I asked him questions, he didn't bother answering, which I liked. When I get worked up, my employees know there's no point trying to argue with me. I'll always win in the end.
When I felt satisfied with the verbal ass-kicking I had administered, Josh muttered an apology and left my office with his head down. I noticed his hands were shaking as he scurried to his desk and began to gather his things to leave.
The office floor was empty. Another late night.
I sighed and returned to my computer to finish sending off my final emails of the day. Josh usually said goodbye before he left, but he simply got up from his desk and walked out tonight. Not out of rudeness, I thought, but out of fear of having to speak to me again before I had a chance to calm down.
The screen on my phone lit up. A text from Rachel: Bill, where are you?
Be home soon, I wrote back.
She responded immediately: That's what you always say. This is getting ridiculous. It's not good enough.
I read the message and sighed. I put my phone in the pocket of my coat so I wouldn't have to look at it. Add my wife to the list of people who don't understand what I do.
The main door of the office opened and closed. I looked up. The guy who takes out the trash had walked in. He came every night around this time. I did not know his name. Sometimes, when I saw people like him, I wondered about the different choices we must have made for me to be where I am and them to be where they are. I kept those thoughts to myself, for obvious reasons.
I returned to my computer and tried to focus on the few remaining tasks of the day. My phone vibrated in my coat. I knew it was Rachel. Could she, just once, give me a God damn break?
The garbage man appeared in the doorway. I usually did not pay him any attention when he came to take trash from my office but this evening, for some reason, I looked up.
He was dressed in a tight black T-shirt that clung to his body. He was a big guy. Huge arms, a thick neck, broad chest. I wondered could I take him in a fight. He had a heavy brow and a square jaw. He was young, probably twenty-five at the oldest. Still a few years to make something of himself, I thought.
He gestured to the trash can. I nodded, looking back at my screen. He walked inside with a large bag that he emptied the contents of the can into. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the muscularity of his legs. They were thick and hefty. His glutes were round and pert.
I was in descent shape myself. Once you hit your late thirties, just maintaining the body you already had becomes a challenge, never mind building new muscle. Still, I looked better than most of men in my age group. But looking at this guy made me want to leave the office right now and find my way to the nearest gym.
'I'm locking up tonight,' he said.
I looked up at him. I had never heard him speak before.
'You gonna be much longer?'
'Another few minutes,' I said.
'Ballpark?' he said. 'I want to get a workout in tonight.'
I stared at him. 'I just said I'll be another minute.'
He gave me a look that I knew none of my employees would ever dare give me. He left the room and went down the hall.
Prick, I thought.
Thirty minutes later, I was ready to leave. I locked the door of my office and made my way downstairs. The garbage guy was there. He was sat on a stool, texting on his phone, waiting for me to get out. I left without saying anything and drove home.
My house looks large and foreboding in the dark. I punched the code for the gates and they creaked open.
Rachel was at the foot of the staircase when I opened the door and turned on the lights. She was wearing a white vest and matching underwear.
'Nice of you to join me,' she said.
I realised I had no idea what time it was. I glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. Just after eleven pm.
'Rach, don't,' I said, hanging my coat up. 'I've -- '
'Had a really long day, I know,' she finished for me.
'Did you make dinner?'
'For myself, yes.'
'So there's nothing for me?'
She shrugged. 'I guess I forgot. Oops.'
'You really think I have the energy to go and cook a meal right now?' I said.
'I don't know, Bill. I know I definitely don't. I'm going back to bed. Goodnight.' She turned and walked up the stairs.
'Don't forget to close the bathroom window,' I called after her.
She did not reply. She turned the corner and disappeared, shutting off the upstairs light.
I went into the kitchen and scanned the fridge, deciding a bottle of beer would suffice as my meal. I went into the sitting room and sat on the couch, kicking my shoes off and putting my feet up.
Rachel was angry, so I would let her be angry. I would wait forty minutes or so before I went to bed, that would give her plenty of time to curse my name to herself a dozen times before falling asleep.
I turned the TV on and flicked through the channels, hoping to de-stress with a mindless game show or a replay of a football game. I took a huge gulp of my drink and settled into the couch.
A few moments later, I heard movement upstairs. I turned the volume on the TV down.
'Rachel?' I called, turning my head halfway around. No answer.
I thought about the garbage guy again and that look on his face when he came to my office. Did he not know who he was talking to? He was an independent contractor, hired externally. Still, I wondered if I had the power to get him fired. I probably did. I could get anyone in the building fired if I really wanted to.
Just after midnight, I decided to call it a day. I reached for the remote and turned the TV off. In the reflection of the screen, I saw a dark shape behind me. I smiled. Rachel had come to apologize.