Draining Lusts

When Tess Marshall blew a hair out of her face and moaned in exasperation, she looked up from the pile of documents she had been sorting in order of significance. I don't even know why I'm here.

Two years ago, she had begun working as Trevor Ryan's assistant. She had a secret crush on him for two years. required him. I've seen him among other women, and he's never even given me more than a glance that I assume was meant for the maid. He did seem to recognize that she was exceptionally skilled at her work and that she simplified his life, so that was excellent. She felt like a piece of machinery most of the time, except for the rare occasions when he relaxed his guard and treated her like an individual.

The worst part was that he was self-centered and generally unappreciative. When he did say it, it was almost never with an emphasis on gratitude. He enjoyed picking apart details about which he had little expertise and which she could do nothing to alter. She wasn't upset about her salary at all, but she was sick of being taken for granted.

Earlier that day, he had two tickets to the Lakers game and gave them to his gardener. The gardener! She put in long hours for him every day, sometimes even in the wee hours of the morning. She even bought him condoms and boxers, and he'd never treated her to anything before. He had more money than God, was universally adored and watched his inane films, and treated his agent to a spa day and a trip to Hawaii. She thought it was nice and knew she couldn't have bought it for herself, but she still hadn't used it because she was always working.

Besides, she doubted she had the emotional fortitude to see him woo yet another dimwitted actress into his bed. Neither he nor they ever gave any other much thought. He treated them nicely, you know. while they were in his good graces he lavished them with expensive gifts,

to leave, always on the lookout for his next victim.

“Tess.” As he entered the room, his voice snapped her out of her thoughts. While ordering a Cobb salad, I specifically requested more eggs, but they did not include any. Please return it and purchase additional eggs. She had been trying to help him organize his paperwork when he tossed the container on top of it.

For a split second, she couldn't see clearly, but suddenly her vision cleared. By this point, she absolutely had reached her breaking point.

She got to her feet, snatched her purse, and hurriedly stuffed her picture frames inside. To reclaim the situation, you should reconsider. Even better, I'll help you cram those eggs down your gullet. Hey, you inconsiderate jerk!

“Whoa! Why are you upset today? He said that while maintaining an air of attractive confidence. It seems that he was laughing, too.

“You! My daily struggle is with you, Trevor. It's not bad manners to say "thank you" every once in a while. You grunted at me when I finally found a copy of your first script after seven months of searching. Really? Two sentences would have been enough to end your life? Oh alas! You didn't thank me for the book and instead made a fuss about the fold in the cover. In the two years that I've been on the job for you, you've never once acknowledged my birthday. You don't forget the birthday of the cook you had me choose and hire for you, do you? Even the housekeeper, another person I recruited and employed for you, had her birthday in your thoughts. Around 2 in the morning, you phone me and want to know where the spare condoms are. Do you have any idea how horrifying that is? While I was out on vacation, you called. In every way! You paged me at the pool, so I had to switch hotels. That's it, I'm done with it. No more from me. The thought of returning your fucked-up salad for more eggs would make me too smart to do it. Leaving the desk behind, she walked toward the entrance.

After opening it, she stopped for a moment. I'm f*cking done with you. I quit." She slammed the door behind her, strode to the car, and drove off down the driveway, her freedom finally attained.

Trevor Ryan blinked in astonishment and disbelief as he peered toward the door. To whoever in the f*&

Which one of them was it? Terror on a grand scale! Did Tess always have such a short fuse? Had he and always has he been such an inconsiderate jerk? When did she become so stunning? How could he have lived with her for two years and not noticed the way her breasts jiggled when she moved? He was angry with himself for that major lapse in focus and determined to make amends.

* * * * *

He was in search of her address, so he drove his Boxster down the street. He had intended to visit her sooner, but he had no idea where she lived, and she was the one who always found out such details. If he needed directions, she'd go through the trouble of printing them out in bright, large fonts just for him.

In fact, over the course of the preceding three days, he had begun to fully appreciate her value to him. When he realized nobody had any idea where his belongings were, he lost it and ran amok through the house. No one on his team could be relied upon to know what he like to wear with his Armani suit and what he preferred to wear with his Prada pants. The dry cleaning was nowhere to be seen, and his special shampoo was almost gone, but no one knew where Tess had acquired more. Her precise notes saved him, as he now knew every detail of his personal itinerary for the following 12 months.

Beyond that, he realized he missed Tess the person as well. He wondered why he hadn't appreciated her attractiveness while it was so easily accessible. The thought of her seemed to consume his mind as he lay in bed at night. The tone of her voice, her wit, and her infectious laughter radiated through the phone. He took her comic relief for granted because it happened so frequently. His day and night were consumed by thoughts of her.

He had called his accountant out of desperation, and they had tracked her down using her W-2. The plan was for him to hire Tess back as his personal assistant and start spending more time with her as a person. Much improved.

When he finally saw her house, Trevor pulled into the driveway and jumped out of the car with a smug grin on his face. He jogged up her front steps, set his alarm, and looked around. It was a wonderful house in a good part of Westwood, not too far from where he lived. He confidently tapped the

after a few moments, a stranger knocked on her door and entered.

A flirtatious boyish grin radiated from his face as he looked at the girl. Hi there, my name is Trevor Ryan. The person in charge of Tess? I need to find her. What's up with her?

"Hi, my name is Tess' mother, and you are no longer my daughter's employer. Hence, I don't think it's necessary for you to know where she is.

His grin faded ever so slightly. “Ah. Was it she who mentioned me to you? Please, I'd like to have a moment of your time.

She gave him a quick glance of suspicion all over before nodding and inviting him inside.

In the subsequent hour, he returned to his residence and began to prepare to go. To the extent that he is able to do so. In all honesty, it had been a long time since he'd had to handle something of this nature on his own. He was spoilt, as Tess had predicted.

But now he recognized it, and that was the key difference. He was aware of her many acts of kindness and was determined to show her how he would make amends for his misdeeds.

One of the few people in his life who cared enough about him to tell him the truth even when it hurt, he desperately wanted her back.

With that, he stuffed what casual clothing he could find into a small case, grabbed his toiletries bag — always neatly packed by Tess — and made his way to the front door.

When Tess was away, his agent sent over a temp to help, and he quickly charmed the woman into complete ineptitude. He ordered her to reschedule his day and then walked away while she stared at him in shock.