Unfortunately, the rooms which housed Phillips & Cox, Attorneys at Law, were right down the end of a corridor along which more people were coming and going. It was lunchtime, after all.
Crying was not an option ‘til she had total privacy.
Clenching her jaw to keep her chin from quivering, Zoe launched herself down the gray-carpeted hallway, delivering a plastic smile whenever she passed an acquaintance.
Finally, she made it, only to find that June, their receptionist, was eating lunch at her desk, instead of in the café downstairs, as she usually did.
“What are you doing back so early?” June probed when Zoe walked back in. “Weren’t you supposed to be having lunch with the boyfriend down at the Rockery?”
Zoe’s teeth clenched even harder in her jaw.
“He was called back to work early,” she managed with feigned nonchalance, “so I thought I’d come back and have my coffee here.”
“Silly you. I’d have stayed down there. The coffee here is just instant muck. You could have had the real McCoy at the Rockery.”
“Oh, well…” Zoe shrugged, smiled an indifferent smile, then sped down to the tearoom, hoping it would be blessedly deserted and she could have a good quiet cry. But as luck would have it, her boss was there, making coffee and muttering away to herself. ‘Til she saw Zoe.
“What on earth are you doing back so early?” Fran asked. “I thought you were having lunch with Drake?”
It was too much for Zoe.
Fran literally gaped when Zoe burst into tears. In the six months Zoe had worked for her, the girl had never cried once. Or even seemed flustered. She was so cool and competent that sometimes Fran forgot she was only twenty-five.
Fran was not by nature a soft or sympathetic person, but she’d had considerable experience in handling weeping females. Considerable experience in the cause of such weeping as well. Her part of the practice specialized in divorce cases.
Fran didn’t have to be told that a man was behind Zoe’s tears. And there was only one man in Zoe’s life. The very charming and successful Drake Carson.
Plucking a handful of tissues from the box sitting on the counter, Fran pressed them into her assistant’s hands, then led the weeping girl back to her office. Fortunately, this didn’t require going past June, who was the office gossip.
“Sit,” she ordered, pushing Zoe down into one of the large comfy chairs facing her desk before returning to her own black office chair. There, she waited patiently ‘til the worst of the weeping was over.
Zoe’s sobbing eventually subsided to a sniffle.
“Can I get you something?” Fran asked at that point, her tone matter-of-fact. “Coffee? Brandy? A hit man?”
Zoe’s head jerked up and she laughed a rueful laugh.
“Want to tell me about it?” Fran said.
Zoe looked at her boss and suddenly saw, not just the smart-as-a-whip lawyer, but the woman. Thirty-eight and still very attractive, with jet-black hair—cut into a short chic bob—piercing gray eyes, a pale unlined skin and an hourglass figure which looked good in the severe black suits she favoured. Highly respected by her colleagues and clients, she was married to Angus Phillips, the senior partner in the firm.
But what about before that? She must have had other men, a woman like her. Plenty of them. She’d seen so much more of life than Zoe. She might be able to explain what had happened between Drake and that blonde so that Zoe could forgive him and go on as before.
Because that was what she really wanted to do. Now that she’d had time to think about it, breaking up with Drake was just too horrendous to contemplate.
So she told her boss what had happened. Fran listened without interruption, her face not giving away a thing. But Zoe suspected she wasn’t shocked. Which shocked Zoe.
“Aren’t you surprised?” she said at last.
Fran smiled a dry smile. “Nothing men do ever surprises me, Zoe. The more attractive the man, the less I’m surprised. So no, I’m not surprised. I think it’s a shame, however, that you found out about Drake’s little indiscretion. If you hadn’t, you’d still be perfectly happy with him.”
“But…but…it wasn’t just a little indiscretion. He was unfaithful. And more than once, I suspect. I don’t believe for a moment he only slept with that woman on just the last night.”
“Why? Was she so very beautiful?”
“She was stunning, with the biggest boobs I’ve ever seen outside of one of those magazines.”
“Maybe he has a secret boob fetish. Or maybe she gave him something you don’t. Forgive me for prying, Zoe, but I can’t advise you without knowing all the facts. Are you sure you satisfy Drake in bed?”
Zoe floundered at this point. “I…I thought I did.”
“Why? Because you have sex a lot?”
“Well…isn’t that the main criterion?” Zoe had always been under the impression that most men complained that they weren’t getting enough.
“Not necessarily. Some men are more interested in quality rather than quantity. They like different positions. Different places. You’re not one of those silly girls who insist on always doing it in bed with the lights out, do you?”
“Of course not,” she denied hotly. And in truth, she didn’t.
It was Drake’s idea that they always do it in bed. He was big on creating a romantic atmosphere with satin sheets and scented candles and soft dreamy music.
Not that she wasn’t happy with the arrangement. Zoe liked comfort. And candlelight was so very flattering. As for different positions… Zoe was more than grateful that Drake didn’t want to do it doggie-style on the floor, or up against the wall in the shower or with her on top. Even thinking of the physical exposure such positions would inflict on her made her cringe.
Now she wondered if Drake had secretly craved doing it in just those ways all along, but hadn’t wanted to ask. It had taken a brazen blonde in an elevator to fulfil his sexual fantasies.
“What about oral sex?” Fran persisted, and Zoe could feel herself blushing. But it did seem odd having this very frank conversation with her boss when up ‘til today, their relationship had been strictly professional.
“It’s…er…not my favorite form of foreplay,” she confessed. She’d done it once. Sort of. For about twenty seconds. But thankfully, Drake stopped her before the unthinkable happened. He’d never asked for it again, or steered her that way a second time, and she certainly wasn’t going to do it off her own bat.
“I don’t think it’s Drake’s, either,” she added, a touch defensively.
“Really? That’s unusual. Most men are pretty keen. But I guess it takes all types and you’d know your boyfriend best.”
“I thought I did,” Zoe said wretchedly. “Maybe I don’t know him at all. Maybe our whole relationship is a sham. Maybe he’s having affairs right, left and center.”
“I don’t think so, Zoe. If he was, I’d know about it.”
“Huh?”
Fran gave her a droll look. “Angus and I have been living in the same building as Drake since the time you started dating him. We share the same garage, the same elevators, the same swimming pool and gym. I’ve never seen him with another girl except you. Not once. Clearly, he’s not in the habit of