Chapter 1

*Author’s Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

*Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

“Again, Mr. Sullivan, your name is not on the lease. Your name is not on ANY the paperwork with Prescott Property Management,” Ashley Dunn said, voice firm, professional.

The attractive brunette sat, listening to the angry squawks and barks that could be heard bleeding through her headset. Her ice blue eyes stared at her computer monitor. Finally, she’d heard enough from Timothy Sullivan.

“Mr. Sullivan, Mr. Sullivan, you’re repeating yourself. I’ve already told you, we have no idea who you are. We’ve run no background check on you, we have no record of you at all. Furthermore, Mr. Becknel had absolutely no right to sub-let that apartment to you. There is a clause in his lease with Prescott Properties that specifically forbids subletting the property to any third party. Well, I’m glad you like the apartment, sir, but Mr. Becknel’s did not have the right to sublet the property to you. Also, there is the fact that his lease with Prescott Property Management has expired as of the first of this month. Mr. Sullivan, your only recourse is to find Mr. Becknel and sue him for the remainder of your monies. Mr. Sullivan, that is not Prescott Property Management’s problem,” Ashley stated.

Again, her headset burst into angry squawks and squeals. Ashley idly tapped a ball point pen on her Formica desktop. After a moment, she dropped the pen and sat up straight in her seat.

“Mr. Sullivan, you have until noon tomorrow to be out of Apartment four twelve, eleven nineteen Broderick Circle, Sweet Oak, Texas. If you and your property are not out of Apartment four twelve at noon tomorrow, a Sheriff’s Deputy will escort you off of the property and your belongings will be carried to the, sir, Mr. Sullivan, I told you at the beginning of this conversation that all calls are recorded. I will be turning this over to the Oakleaf County Sheriff’s Office. Good bye, Mr. Sullivan,” Ashley stated and terminated the call.

Nina Crowder, a petite red head looked over at Ashley and shook her head in wonder. Ashley Dunn was a striking brunette beauty, with curly brown hair that she wore loose, natural, down to just above her shoulder blades, beautiful blue eyes, perfectly manicured eyebrows and high cheek bones framing the gorgeous eyes, a small, straight nose, and pouting lips.

Ashley stood five six, sported 32DD breasts, a narrow waist and 32 inch hips. Her long, tanned legs were always encased in stockings, and Ashley wore nothing but skirts or dresses to work, even as many in the Collections office wore slacks or blue jeans, casual tops. The first Monday of every month, management had dubbed ‘Pajama Monday’ and most of the collection agents wore pajamas to work.

Except for Ashley. The Texas beauty was the very picture of femininity each and every day of her eight am to five pm shift.

Working in the Collections department of Prescott Property Management was a difficult job. Those with a thin skin did not last long; many of the people they called were less than happy to hear from them and many became abusive, even threatening over the phone. Some would also try turning on the waterworks, trying to elicit sympathy from the agent.

Ashley Dunn, with all her beauty, her feminine grace, her poise, was absolutely ruthless on the telephone. Threats did not faze her. Abusive language did not perturb her. Tears and stories of woe did not affect her.

“That was Tim Sullivan?” Nina asked as she finished her own notes before switching to the next person on her log.

“Mm hmm. Simply will not understand that he has no leg to stand on,” Ashley said, no emotion in her voice. “Hi Johnny, uh huh, it’s me again. Yes sir, Tim Sullivan, said he’s coming down here to blow my head off.”

“What?” Nina gasped as Ashley calmly gave the Sheriff’s Deputy all the pertinent information.

At lunch time, Ashley sat at her desk, rather than ride the elevator up to the fifth floor of 2 Alliance Square, to have lunch in the lunch room of Prescott Conglomerate. Then, lunch out of the way, Ashley quietly sat and meditated for the remaining forty seven minutes of her lunch hour. Her headset played ambient noise, instead of the complaining, whining voices of her clients.

For Ashley, this was usually the happiest, most relaxing forty seven minutes of her day. In her Eastlawn condominium, which should be a refuge for her, Ashley looked around at the physical trappings of success. She had the perfect couch and chair combination, gleaming hardwood floors, a Persian style rug that accented the furnishings and the original artwork perfectly.

Her kitchen had a gas range and a gas oven, hooks that hung from the ceiling holding her copper pots and pans, and butcher block counter tops, matching façade cabinet doors. The kitchen table and chairs were perfectly matched for kitchen flooring and counter tops and cabinets.

The half-bath just off of the elegant living room continued the precise flow of perfection. Walls and fixtures were white. The floor was hardwood, and the rug was a fluffy, pillory white.

The den, just off the living room was behind French doors. A heavy curtain covered the frosted panes of glass and the doors could be locked from the inside of the den. Behind the pleated curtains was a carpeted room, with soft, overstuffed couch and matching loveseat and a giant ottoman. Bookcases lined two of the three walls and a large television and entertainment center took up the third wall.

To the left of the French doors was a desk, with chair that matched couch and loveseat and ottoman. A computer monitor sat upon the desk, a printer sat on a printer stand to the left of the desk.

To the right of the French doors was a small wet bar with three bar stools. The three bar stools also matched the couch, loveseat, ottoman and computer chair.

The bookcases matched the desk, printer stand desk and bar.

The few people that Ashley allowed into her condominium always asked who her interior decorator was. Ashley usually curled her perfect upper lip in disdain as she stated that she was her interior decorator; it doesn’t take a genius to figure out how to mix and match colors.

Up the hardwood stairs, with carpet runner in the middle were the two bedrooms and two full baths. Very few had ever been allowed up these steps. Ashley used to love coming up these stairs, but lately, she avoided going up the stairs until it was time for bed. In the morning, dress, or blouse and skirt ironed, Ashley would stoically shower and prepare for her day ahead. Then, she would march down the stairs, not to return up those stairs until 10:00 pm that evening.

The second bedroom had two twin beds separated by a small antique white nightstand. Each bed had an antique white headboard and footboard. There was an antique white dresser against one wall, the other wall had a closet. Ashley had meticulously stained those doors antique white as well. The beds both had light pink comforters, each bed had a pillow encased in a light pink pillow sham. The soft light brown shag carpet and the lemon yellow walls contrasted with the light pink and antique white, forming the perfect color combination. The lemon yellow color was continued in the guest bathroom, and Ashley had taken a remnant of the sandy brown shag carpet and had sown a border around the square. That square formed a rug and Ashley had crisscrossed the bottom of the rug with non-slip padding.

Ashley never opened the door to the second bedroom or the second bathroom. Her sewing machine sat in the closet of the second bedroom; Ashley had a cloth bag in her closet that held a few dresses that needed repairs. But she would not open that door.

For forty seven minutes, Ashley would sit quietly at her desk, eyes closed, soft smile on her lips. The ambient noise filled her head, driving out her rambling, racing thoughts. For forty seven minutes, Ashley did not need to think.

A soft chime sounded in her left ear. Ashley nodded, as if to tell the chime that she had heard it. Then she shut off the ambient noise.

Typing rapidly, Ashley clocked back in, checked her voice mails, checked her emails. She brought up her log and moved on to the next person on her log.

“Fred? Fred Toombs? Hey! How’s it going?” Ashley said as Nina hurriedly typed in her own code at her computer. “Oh, come on, Fred, you don’t know who this is? Man, huh? This is Ashley.”

Nina listened as Ashley played Fred Toombs perfectly. Fred admitted Ashley had reached the right party, listening to Ashley’s syrupy sweet voice.

“Hey uh Fred? Listen, this is Ashley, with Prescott Property Management; this call is being recorded,” Ashley interrupted Fred’s cheerful monologue.

Nina almost burst out laughing as Ashley sat and listened to Fred’s outburst. Apparently, Fred had not appreciated being duped.

“Well, that’s your opinion, Mr. Toombs,” Ashley interrupted Fred’s abuse. “But your opinion does not change the fact that you are now six days delinquent on your rent, Mr. Toombs. It does not change the fact that this is your second verbal notification.”

“After the fifth day, Mr. Toombs, there is a twenty five dollar late fee attached to your payment. That’s for each day,” Ashley again interrupted Fred’s angry outburst. “Sir, it is right there, in the lease you signed with Prescott Property Management. And after ten days? We begin eviction proceedings. Sir? I do not care that you had an unexpected medical emergency in your family. Rent is an expected expense, due by the fifth of each month.”

Apparently, Fred Toombs had terminated the call. Ashley just pursed her lips and punched in the numbers again. She typed rapidly into Mr. Toombs’s file while the telephone rang.

“Mr. Toombs, hanging up on me will not make the problem go away,” Ashley stated. “Nor will not answering your telephone. Like I said, this call is being recorded; I have it on record that I did inform you that you are delinquent in your rent payment, I did inform you of the twenty five dollar daily assessment, and I did advise you that after the tenth day, we will begin eviction proceedings against you. Have a nice day, sir.”

At five pm, Ashley sent in her log. She then clocked out and shut down her computer. With a sigh, she removed her headset.

“Doing anything tonight?” Nina asked, grabbing her purse.

Ashley looked at the cute red head. For a long moment, her ice blue eyes regarded her coworker. Then Ashley forced a smile to her beautiful face.

“Same as every day,” Ashley said. “Go across the street, get in a workout, then go home and fix dinner. You?”

“What’s for dinner?” Nina asked, not answering Ashley’s question.

“Hmm, I’ve got some baby spinach, some salmon patties,” Ashley mused aloud as they joined the throng of Prescott employees spilling out of the various offices.

“Enjoy,” Nina said cheerfully as she pushed toward the elevators.

Ashley nodded and turned toward the stairwell. Her four inch heels clacked loudly on the concrete stairs as she marched down the one flight to the lobby of 2 Alliance Square.

The elevator still had not arrived to the ground level as Ashley marched past the jewelry store’s display windows. She did not pause to look at the glittering objects; they held no appeal to her.

Ashley pushed open the lobby doors and stepped out into a brutal Texas afternoon. She joined other workers that had left 2 Alliance Square as they waited for the light to change so that they could amble across Michner.

Two of the original crowd were also heading to 3 Alliance Square and Ashley quietly waited for the light to change again. She heard the two women chattering, but did not hear their words. The light changed and she started across the street. Suddenly, she saw a flash of sunlight off of a car’s windshield and threw her arm out, blocking the two women from stepping off of the curb. The automobile whizzed past as the driver ran the red light.

“Oh my God!” one woman gasped, hand over her heart.

“Lady! You just saved our lives!” the other woman said.

Ashley shrugged her shoulders and continued her journey across the street. In the locker room, she changed into her workout clothing and immediately hit the treadmill for a five mile run. After the run, she did a mental coin toss and decided on free weights that evening. She regretted the decision; three muscle bound gym rats were in the large room, and each began to vie for her attention.

She ignored them as she worked her various muscle groups. Two of the men got the message; one even apologized for distracting her.

The third man did not get the hint and kept pestering her. Ashley finally sat up from the bench, retrieved her cell phone and snapped his picture. She then sent the picture to the gym’s management, with a complaint about the man’s harassment.

“Hey! Byron! What the hey? Lady ain’t interested,” Percy Goodwin, the gym’s manager yelled from the doorway of the room. “One more complaint? Your ass is out of here.”

Ashley nodded her thanks to Percy and put some more weights onto her bar. Byron glared white hot hatred at Ashley and left the room.

Arriving home again, hair still damp from the shower, Ashley prepared her supper. With a sharp knife, she separated the finished product into two equal portions and put one into a storage container, which went into the refrigerator. After her meal, she cleaned and dried the chopping block, the knives, her plate, glass and fork.

Entering her den, Ashley stepped behind the bar and prepared herself a drink. Seeing the large jar of maraschino cherries, her movements paused for a moment.

“Don’t,” Ashley said out loud. “Don’t even think about them.”