Subject: Mortgage 4/10 (nc, m/f, f/f, bd)
In Part Four, the last straw for Amy...
The Mortgage- PART FOUR, by Marlissa
Hadn't he ever heard of feminism? "Be a doll and fetch me some
coffee!' he said, like she was some waitress. And he had said it in
front of four other bank executives too, two of them women! And the
women had smirked too, which hadn't totally surprised Amy. She was
learning that the female executives at the bank treated their own
secretaries much worse than the males did.
Amy had given him a small, angry smile and brought the coffee
silently. She had hoped he would say something later, maybe
apologize. Instead he told her to refill the cup, without even looking
up from his papers. She popped a piece of Sexy-licious in her mouth and
began chewing. It calmed her right down and she obediently filled
the cup.
****************
The crack about her pantsuit just frosted her. It had come at the end
of the day, just as she was ready to leave. They were going over some
tasks for her tomorrow when he looked up and shook his head, with
that utterly superior attitude he was increasingly showing towards her.
"Goodness, I didn't know secretaries still wore those things!" His
amusing patronizing tone aggravated her to no end!
"Mr. Baines, many of the women who work here wear pantsuits. Why,
Ms. Jensen--"
"Is an EXECUTIVE, my dear-- not a secretary. At her level, it may be
appropriate-- even though she has an attitude problem I'm not entirely
happy with. Far too assertive for her own good. But at YOUR level,
well, a pantsuit really isn't befitting a girl of your position." His
slate eyes looked down at her in an over-patient way, as if he was
explaining something to a child.
The next day, Amy gritted her teeth and wore a skirt.
******************
"So we're not wearing make-up today, Amy?" Mr. Baines scowled at
her. She sighed.
"Yes, Sir, I am." Amy searched her brain. Of course she had put
make-up on-- not much because she didn't like a lot. But she WAS
wearing make-up. It upset her that Mr. Baines was mad at her. She
was feeling a little ditzy and very vulnerable, probably all the sugar
in the gum. Lately she was feeling so passive, so easily confused. Amy
resolved to cut down on her newest bad habit-- it was doing the
strangest things to her.
"You can hardly tell, young lady! Don't you think it's important for
you to look nice while you're working for me? Or does the job mean that
little to you?" he was demanded angrily.
She twitched nervously. "Uh, no Sir, I mean, Yes Sir, I--" she groped
for the right words, all the time chewing her Sexylicious gum.
He cut her off with a wave of a hand. "Just start wearing make-up in
the office from now on. Don't embarrass me in front of the rest of the
executives by coming in here with your face looking like you just got
out of bed, understand me?"
She nodded, chewing faster. "Yes Sir!" She shook her head rapidly to
show just how well she understood. The next day, Amy's face was
painted and made-up as enticingly as any of the other secretaries-- the
other single, young unmarried secretaries, that is. It was just easier
to get along, she told herself. And Mr. Baines smiled widely at her,
proving she had done the right thing. Still, it bothered her. Just
like the tickling in her sex now bothered her. Was she horny? Amy
blushed and shook off the thought at once, popping another piece of
chewing gum in her mouth.
******************
The final straw. That was it. She was still fuming, still
completely humiliated by it. By no longer surprised.
She had just finishing watering the plants in his office when he had
returned from a planning meeting. He was pleased with this kind of
initiative, just as he was pleased with the other things he now had Amy
doing for him-- picking up his dry cleaning on her lunch hour, sewing
the occasional button that popped of a shirt cuff, trotting down the
post office for him, standing in line at the Registry to renew his
plates, and any other mindless chore he could dump off on her.
At least it had made things better. She no longer asked questions
about what she was doing, she just did, without comment, whatever she
was told. He was pleased with her new attitude. Watering his plants
without being told to was EXACTLY the kind of initiative he
appreciated and he said so. She had smiled demurely.
"Thank you Sir. I'm trying to be the kind of secretary you want."
THAT seemed to go over very well, so well in fact that Baines had
patted her ass as she left his office.
"Good girl, Amy. I KNEW this would work out after all."
She had frozen, then kept walking out, without saying a word. She
didn't look behind her, keeping her dazed eyes focused on the path in
front of her. The nerve! That he would think he could touch her like
that! She could still feel his palm on her ass, the proprietary way he
had patted her, like she was some bar girl or something!
As she walked home, Amy steamed. Bob Baines was a pig, an
absolute pig. How could she work for a guy like that? What was
wrong with him? It dawned on her that she longer wanted to be Baine's
secretary. She would do something else, maybe get a job waitressing,
something. If only they weren't counting on that money. And it would
take time to get another job. Wendell wasn't having any luck...
That was when she saw the construction worker nailing the sign up next
door to her house. Her face went white.
"NEW HOME OF THE BENTSON TOXIC WASTE TREATMENT CENTER"
She raced into the house, slamming the door behind her. Wendell was
fixated on a teevee cartoon, his eyes half-opened. Empty beer cans
littered the room.
"What the hell is going on next door? Did you see--"
"Look at the mail," he answered flatly, pointed at the opened envelope
on the kitchen table.
She picked up the envelope with the registered mail receipt glued to
it, pulled out the thick document inside. She began to read, her heart
falling with every paragraph. "As you may know," it began innocently
enough, "the recent establishment of a chemical processing facility on
commercially zoned land abutting yours will serve the whole
community of Bentson County in many ways. The First Metropolitan
Bank was pleased to finance this important new project.
Unfortunately," the letter turned somber," this development has
adversely affected your own property value very drastically. A recent
independent appraisal by the bank shows that your property has lost
two-thirds of it's value from six months ago. As a result, and given
your own uncertain employment prospects, the bank has no option but
to reconsider its investment in aforesaid property and mortgage."
She had worked at the bank long enough to understand that the legal
terms and figures all added up to one thing. The bank was calling in
the loan.
"Unless you are able to demonstrate long-term employment, the bank
will have no option but to request full payment on your mortgage note.
Please respond to this correspondence within twenty-four hours. Thank
you for your attention in this matter!" There was no signature. It
was a form letter generated automatically by the bank's computers the
first of every month.
"Howduya like that?" Wendell was drunk. Amy figured he had been
drinking all afternoon-- ever since the letter had been delivered. "I
thought we'd wait till tomorrow to tell my folks they'll have to live
in the street," he said, eyes rolling in despair as he cracked open a
fresh can of beer, "unless I get some big job in the next twenty-four
hours, that is." His eyes were filling with tears, drunken, pathetic
tears. "I could always rob a gas station or something," he groaned,
half-seriously.
