Dirty Thoughts



  Dirty Thoughts

  BRENDA G. BRADLEY

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, names and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons living or deceased is coincidental.

  This book may not be reprinted without permission.

  Visit me at https://yourbookshelves.com/

  Copyright © 2015 Brenda G. Bradley

  All rights reserved.

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to my husband and my two sons. It is also dedicated to my sisters who are my beta readers and all of the people who read my books.

  PROLOGUE

  Harry’s most recent hire sat across the desk from him. “I need results and I need them now. When will you put your plan in action?”

  “You’ll see something soon. I promise.”

  I’d better see some progress.”

  “How about an explosion?”

  “Perfect.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  By 7 a.m. Wednesday morning Jocelyn Bryant was already sitting at her desk. She had already swallowed three antacid tablets and was searching her pocket for a fourth. She was having the worst week of her life. She believed in the old saying, “Bad things always come in threes.” On Monday morning, after exactly ten years of dedication, she’d unexpectedly been laid off from the Baldwin Investment firm.

  She’d known layoffs were coming but thought her seniority at the firm would protect her. She’d started working at Baldwin right after graduating from college. Her stomach had lurched when she saw the pink slip in her mailbox. This must be a mistake or a joke. I’m too valuable to the company to be let go, she thought.

  Pink slip held firmly in her hand, she marched into her boss’s office. She’d had several supervisors since starting at the firm. Most had moved on, yet she had stayed and remained loyal to Baldwin Investments. She did her job well and had been the consummate professional at all times.

  Unfortunately for her, she’d been assigned to Mr. Greene’s group for the past three years. Mr. Green was the worst supervisor she’d ever had. He was the alcoholic son-in-law of one of the firm’s owners. Mr. Green was a short, fortyish, balding man, who wore Italian handmade suits, drank three shots of vodka before he left his house each morning, and drank at least three cocktails with his buddies at lunch every day.

  He had never really liked Jocelyn. He was extremely petty and jealous that Jocelyn’s friendly, competent and professional manner had enabled her to recruit high earning clients to the firm. While he had to struggle to get clients to even take his calls. No one wanted to talk to a slurring drunk investor.

  When she entered his office, he stood up. Since it was before lunch and his vision hadn’t started to blur, he had been able to see her death grip on the pink slip in her hand. He motioned for her to take a seat. She chose to remain standing.

  He slurred slightly, “I’m sorry Jocelyn. You’re one of Baldwin’s best employees. But I had to make some tough choices. Look, you’ll be fine. Another firm will snatch you up in no time. He grudgingly admitted, “You’re a good investor.”

  He had started to move from behind the desk, but stumbled. The alcohol was starting to affect his coordination. He thought better of moving. Continuing to slur, he said, “You have thirty days of vacation time left. The company will pay you for those unused days.” He tried to smile, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, because they were now unfocused due to the shots of vodka he had sneaked into the men’s room to swallow after he’d arrived at work.

  Out of habit, Jocelyn was watching his body language to determine his sobriety. She could tell he was already tipsy. His eyes were nearly half closed now. She guessed in a few minutes he would do his usual. He would lock his office door and tell his secretary he couldn’t be disturbed.

  Mr. Green had not hid his disdain for her that well. He was always formal around her and dismissed her ideas outright in meetings. She had tolerated Mr. Green and stayed with the firm in hopes of someday being put in charge of her own investment group.

  Now her hopes were dashed. She guessed Mr. Green was keeping his buddies in the group who joined him for lunch and shared his proclivity of drinking their lunches out of shot glasses.

  “Why me?” she questioned Mr. Green. “I’ve been here longer than some of the newer investors. I’m one of the best investors this company has ever had,” said Jocelyn, still in a state of shock.”

  “What can I say Jocelyn? I didn’t make the decision regarding downsizing. If you want, you can take it up with personnel.”

  In a daze, Jocelyn, left his office and walked back to her desk. She knew going to personnel was useless. She just remained at her desk the rest of the day not talking to anyone. She could no longer concentrate on her job.

  The next morning the second bad thing happened to Jocelyn. When she walked out to her car and opened it, she noticed something different. Papers she’d left on the car seat were now scattered on her car’s floor. The glove compartment was also open. The CD’s she’d left in the glove compartment were gone and the Gucci sunglasses left clipped to her sun visor were missing.

  When she tried to close the car door, after searching the car to see what else was missing, to her dismay, the driver’s side door wouldn’t close properly. The door had jammed when she closed it and wouldn’t reopen. The thief had broken the lock. The broken door meant she had to crawl over the passenger seat to get behind her steering wheel.

  She drove to the car dealership with a piece of clothes line she’d managed find holding the passenger door closed. “Crap and double crap”, she muttered over and over again as she drove.

  The mechanic told her it would take four days before the parts he needed to do the repairs would be available. “Triple crap”, she uttered under her breath.

  Jocelyn called her secretary to let her know she would be late. She put on her tennis shoes, left the car with the mechanic and walked to work. She carried her heels in her right hand, while on her left shoulder she carried her overburdened large Coach pocketbook and her brief-case.

  By the time she got to her desk, she was huffing and puffing. Walking the eight blocks to her office loaded down like a pack mule, had winded her. Sitting at her desk, she removed her tennis shoes and checked her feet for blisters.

  By Friday evening she was completely exhausted. She decided to turn in early. Jocelyn put on her nightgown and was almost ready to slide into bed when her cell phone rang. She recognized her sister’s phone number. Before she could say hello, her sister wailed, “Jocelyn, I broke my leg. I’m at Franklin Square Hospital.”

  Alarmed, Jocelyn asked worriedly, “What happened?”

  She sniffed and said, “I’ll tell you when you get here.”

  Jocelyn used the last little bit of energy she had left and quickly put on a shirt and jeans. She sped to the hospital. When she got there, she found her sister, Reese, sitting in a wheel-chair in the hospital emergency waiting area with her dark hair in disarray around her attractive face. Her pretty face was bruised and contorted with pain. Jocelyn rushed to her side. She asked, “What happened?

  “I broke my leg, “she wailed. Then added with attitude, “And it’s your fault.”

  Jocelyn cried, “How’s it my fault?”

  “I wouldn’t have broken my leg if I hadn’t been wearing those new yellow Louboutin stilettos you bought me.”

  Reese pointed her finger at Jocelyn and wailed, “If you hadn’t given them to me, I wouldn’t be sitting here now. Because I was so proud of my first pair of Louboutin red soled high heels, I had to wear them somewhere. I was standing at the top of the church steps chatting, when I lost my balance and fell down all ten cement steps.”

&
nbsp; Jocelyn cringed. She knew how high St. James’ steps were and if Reese fell down all the steps, all of her 180 pounds had ended up sprawled on the sidewalk. From the look of Reese’s bruised face, she had fallen flat on her face.

  She also knew from her sister’s accusing tone that, she was leading up to something. Ever since they were little girls, Reese had used guilt to manipulate Jocelyn whenever she wanted her to do something.

  So it was no surprise when Reese placed the blame for her accident squarely on Jocelyn’s shoulders. Jocelyn sighed and patiently waited for Reese to get to her real reason for calling.

  Reese didn’t disappoint her.

  “I need someone to drive me home and I need someone to help Tiffany clean the Holliday Building until my leg mends.”

  Jocelyn frowned and squealed in disbelief, “I’ve never worked as a maid.”

  Reese said loftily, “We are not maids. We are dirt and stain removal experts.”

  “You have Tiffany. Why can’t Tiffany clean the building by herself?”

  Damn, this is definitely the third bad thing to happen to me, Jocelyn thought. She hated the idea of cleaning up other people’s messes and collecting their trash.

  Reese’s business didn’t earn a lot of money. She had a two-year college degree, but found it difficult to locate a decent paying job when her husband deserted her after the birth of their second child. Now she ran her own cleaning company. Tiffany was her only employee. Her sole contract was with the Ramon Holliday Paint Company.

  Jocelyn asked her sister, “Why me? Can’t you replace Tiffany? Or supervise her by phone?”

  “No. Tiffany’s a good worker. I had to fire three people before I was lucky enough to find her. She’s not perfect but she cleans well and she shows up regularly and on time.”

  Reese added, “She has one flaw; she needs to be supervised to stay on task. If you don’t, she’ll start chatting with someone in their office, and she will never finish cleaning. The building is too big for one person to clean by themselves and you know if someone isn’t there to keep Tiffany in line, I might lose the only contract I have.” Reese begged, “Please, help me big sister!”

  Jocelyn was familiar with Reese’s employee troubles. Reese had finally found a satisfactory employee when she hired Tiffany. One of Reese’s previous employees had been constantly late. The other one had been an alcoholic. She regularly showed up tipsy and smelled like cheap wine. And the last one she hired, before Tiffany, had spent the entire day on the phone talking to her girlfriends instead of working.

  Tiffany was thirty five-years old with short red hair and pale skin. She weighed at least 250 pounds and only had a ninth grade education. She wore red-framed eyeglasses and a 1950’s beehive hairdo. She loved to talk and was always in everybody else’s business. She never missed an opportunity to get or spread the latest juicy gossip.

  Jocelyn caved and said, “Okay, I’m willing to help Tiffany, but just until you get back on your feet.”

  Reese beamed happily. “Thank you so much. I should only be out about two months. I’ll call Mr. Holliday and Tiffany to tell them you’re covering for me until I recuperate. Thanks, Jocelyn. This means a lot to me.”

  Jocelyn left the hospital and returned home, dreading her first day as a cleaning lady. She called her boss and told him she was going to use five days of the vacation days she had left. She no longer felt she owned Baldwin any further consideration or loyalty. She still couldn’t believe they had laid her off.

  Monday morning she was at her computer, checking the stock market quotes for several stocks she was following, when Reese called.

  “It’s all set. You start tomorrow.”

  “Do I need to take anything with me?”

  “No, and please dress down. Whatever you wear is going to get really dirty.”

  Jocelyn didn’t have any clothes to dress down in. While she worked at Baldwin, she had bought only designer power suits, pastel blouses and dark pencil skirts.

  She had hated wearing the tight constricting clothing but her job called for her to look professional. Deep down inside she considered herself a creative person. In her free time, she created jewelry and designed dresses.

  Now all the creative clothes she had worn in college were packed away and were way too small. She supposed she could dress down in her ratty clothing she exercised in at the gym.

 

  Bright and early Monday morning Jocelyn walked into the Ramon Holliday Paint Company. She liked the way the front offices looked. They were painted a bright green and decorated with sleek modern furniture. At the reception desk sat a slim, bleached blonde, woman with large breasts spilling out of her too tight pink blouse. She was typing at her computer. Jocelyn walked up to the desk and waited several minutes to be acknowledged. The woman didn’t look up. So Jocelyn loudly cleared her throat to get her attention. Finally the receptionist looked up and asked, “Can I help you?”

  “I’m the new cleaning person from Exquisite Cleaners. I’m looking for Tiffany,” Jocelyn answered.

  The woman frowned at her, making Jocelyn feel self-conscious. Jocelyn wondered if she had put on too much make up or dressed wrong for the job. She had only put on a little mascara and a little red tinted lip gloss. Her dark curly hair was combed and her face was clean. She’d worn her oldest sweat-shirt and a pair of work-out pants cropped at the ankles. The pants fit her butt and legs snugly and her sweatshirt was pulled down low over her hips.

  She extended her hand with a smile to the receptionist, who rudely ignored it, and said, “You can find Tiffany and the cleaning supply closet at the end of the hall.”

  Jocelyn turned and walked toward the closet. Muttering to herself-when she thought she was out of earshot, she said, “I thought I was finished dealing with crap.”

  To her dismay, the woman at the desk overheard her, “What did you say?”

  Before she could reply, a short red-haired woman yelled, “She said this building is so big, she’ll need a map.”

  When Jocelyn reached the end of the hall, she stuck out her hand and said, “Hello Tiffany.” Then she whispered, “Thanks for the save. What crawled up the receptionist’s butt?”

  Tiffany leaned close and whispered, “Oh don’t mind her. That was Lilly, the receptionist and Mr. Holliday’s personal secretary. She thinks she runs this place, but Mr. Holliday only lets her go so far with the other employees.”

  In a low voice Jocelyn asked, “Well then why is she still here?”

  Tiffany leaned closer and whispered, “Well, from what I’ve heard she’s an excellent office administrator. According to the rumor mill, when Mr. Holliday bought the company she was already here. She made a big play for him. She thought he was interested in sleeping with her.”

  Tiffany sniffed disdainfully at the thought. Then said, “He wasn’t. He took her out to dinner a couple of times to get some ideas about the inner workings of the company.” She added, “You’d better watch yourself around Lillie. She can be as mean as a rattlesnake.”

  Jocelyn grinned at Tiffany; “Nothing like a bit of office gossip to start the day. Where shall I begin cleaning?”

  “You clean the offices and the restrooms, and I’ll clean the lounge and the cafeteria.”

  Jocelyn asked, “Do I clean the employees’ desk?”

  Tiffany replied, “We clean everything. ‘When we leave, your offices are spotless;’ that’s your sister’s motto. I think she should change it, but she’s the boss. We do everything, empty trash, polish furniture, wipe up any spills, and dust the desks. Make sure you wipe up any greasy fingerprints left on the desk because some of the staff people munch snacks at their desk. And they spill all kinds of drinks.”

  “Snacks and drinks?”

  Tiffany began walking around the corner toward the staff offices. She motioned for Jocelyn to follow her. Tiffany gestured toward office number 10. The lady in here eats cheese curls when she is overwhelmed. And if she thinks no one is aro
und, she turns on her R-&-B CDs, plugs in her earphones and chows down. When Aretha Franklin gets to ‘R E S P E C T’ she sings along at the top of her lungs. And when she eats those cheese curls, she drums her fingers on her desk. I wish she would stop eating them. She gets that orange mess all over her desk.”

  Jocelyn followed Tiffany as she pointed to the next office. “The guy in number 12 always spills coffee everywhere. The coffee in the cafeteria is free, but for some reason he always fills his cup to the very brim. He says he needs a big cup of coffee every morning because his wife keeps him up half the night snoring. He claims she’s louder than a freight train. So be sure to wipe up the coffee spills he leaves on his desk and in the break room.”

  At the following office, Tiffany continued, “The girl in this office always claims to be on a diet, but everyday she leaves melted chocolate candy stains on her desk. Her trash can is always overflowing and little pieces of paper are scattered all over her floor. ”

  Jocelyn groaned and said, “Ugh. She needs her very own cleaning fairy.”

  Tiffany smiled. “Sweetie, that’s you. You are the cleaning fairy!”

  Jocelyn grinned and said, “Okay, okay. I’ve got it. Wipe all desks. I might as well get started.”

  An hour later sweat was running down Jocelyn’s face and her sweatshirt had grown circular spots under her breasts made from her own perspiration. She grumbled to herself, “What was I thinking when I agreed to do this? Four years of college, a professional career and now I’m mopping offices and carrying trash. Somebody please pinch me and wake me up!” Tiffany overheard her. She snuck up behind Jocelyn and pinched her. She called gaily as she pranced away, “Be careful for what you wish for.” Jocelyn watched her as she pranced away. She was working with a bunch of nuts.

  After a couple of hours Jocelyn was almost finished. She was saving the owner’s office for last. Because she was carrying the dust mop, rags and cleaner, she entered the office backward, using her bottom to push open the door. She stared at the office. It was different from all of the other cookie cutter looking offices in the building. It was twice as large and looked like it had come straight out of a decorating magazine.

  A large antique wooden desk graced the center of the room. Two black leather chairs were near the desk and a matching sofa was against one wall. Two Tiffany-style lamps were stationed on wooden end tables on either side of the sofa. Gray drapes with chevron designs decorated the windows. The walls were painted a soft gray with blue stripes. She’d seen that color combination in one of those do-it-yourself magazines. Two tall live palms stood sentry in each corner. Framed pictures of exotic locations graced the walls. It was a nice office.

  As her eyes looked toward the back window, she saw the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. He was about six feet tall with dreamy green eyes and black wavy neatly trimmed hair. He reminded her of a poster she had seen of the buff lead Spartan warriors in the movie 300. The man by the window was definitely eye candy. He looked to be in his mid thirties with an athletic physique. She couldn’t tell his race, but obviously bloodlines had mixed somewhere in his family’s past. He was already starting to sport a 5 o’clock shadow even though it was early afternoon. She thought he was he was sexy as hell.

  Since she was in the owner’s office, she assumed he was Mr. Holliday. In the past, when Reese had talked about the company’s owner, Jocelyn had assumed Mr. Holliday was a middle-aged guy with a paunchy midsection.

  This man was the total opposite. He looked a little older than her. She was waving at thirty, but hadn’t reached it quite yet. He reminded her of those classic Greek statues of male athletes wearing nothing but fig leaves. She observed that his custom-tailored suit perfectly fit his well toned physique. There was no paunch anywhere. This man obviously worked out at the gym regularly. She immediately pictured him without any clothes.

  “God you’re gorgeous,” she uttered.

  “What?”

  Jocelyn shook her head. Had she said that out loud?

  She had the bad habit of saying the first things that popped into her head. Heat rose in her face. To cover her embarrassment, Jocelyn said, “Oh forgive me. I’m Jocelyn, the new cleaning lady.” To cover her faux pas, she said, “I was talking about the office. I, um, love the way it’s decorated. The decorator did a beautiful job.”

  The man standing by the window didn’t say anything at first, just stared at her. He had seen the perfectly rounded butt when she’d entered his office.

  Now he focused on her lovely oval face. She looked to be bi-racial but he really wasn’t sure. She had short dark curly hair and large enticing brown eyes. Her red plump lips begged to be kissed. He’d noticed her petite, but lovely curvaceous frame when she’d turned to put down her cleaning supplies. She couldn’t be taller than 5’5”. He looked closer to see what the white block letters on her sweatshirt said. It read, “I SWEAR OFFICER THE POLE HIT MY CAR WHEN THE POLE BACKED UP.”

  So she had a sense of humor. And he could have sworn he had heard her say he was gorgeous.

  The women he knew didn’t go around saying things like that to men. Maybe he had imagined it.

  Because he didn’t say anything or change his expression- but just continued to stare at her, Jocelyn winced. She had to work on the habit of just saying things when they popped into her head. Her wayward tongue had gotten her into trouble more than once. She didn’t want to be accused of sexual harassment and fired on her first day.

  Jocelyn stopped looking at him and quickly started gathering up trash from his trash cans. She couldn’t help but be self conscious as she quickly walked across the office to dust his bookcase.

  He was so sexy, her mind betrayed her again. She imagined using the feather duster to glide it gently over his naked body. Goodness, she thought I need to get a grip or I need to get to a sex shop to buy a vibrator.

  Finally the man moved from the window to his desk and instead of immediately firing her, said in a deep, velvety voice that had Jocelyn taking in deep breaths to keep her composure, “Hello, I’m Ramon Holliday, the CEO of the company. When did you start working here? I don’t remember hiring you.”

  Jocelyn didn’t want the CEO to think badly of her. She knew she had started off on the wrong foot. In a friendly, high pitched voice she said, “Hi! I hum started here today. I’m Reese’s sister. She said she called you. I’m helping her until she can get back on her feet. Your office is the last one that I have to clean today.”

  Jocelyn looked at him praying she could leave his office as quickly as possible so that she could get her sinful thoughts back under control. His deep masculine voice made her remember she hadn’t been intimate with a man in a long time.

  Mr. Holliday said pleasantly, “Oh, that’s right, you’re Jocelyn. He asked, “Did you clean offices before you started here?”

  Lowering the pitch of her voice before she melted from desire right before him, she said, “Um no, I’ve never cleaned offices. I’m a pretty good cleaner though. I keep my apartment pretty clean. My sister didn’t tell me I needed experience to clean this company’s offices.” She looked around searching for something she hadn’t cleaned. “Is there something I missed?”

  Jocelyn looked at Ramon’s handsome face while she was waiting for him to respond. Her eyes drank in his olive colored skin, wavy black hair, and muscled physique. He could easily be a perfect looking suave male model to grace the cover of any romance magazine. Too bad- I’ve sworn off men, she thought.

  Her past had taught her hard lessons about being attracted to men who were very handsome. Once she became an adult, she’d become involved with handsome guys who’d made her life absolutely miserable.

 

  She’d never chosen the brainy types, the muscle man or even the bad boy types. The men she was attracted to were always the pretty boys. When they looked in the mirror, they could see that they were gorgeous and irresistible. All of the ones she had dated were pure narcissists. Jocelyn had al
ways ended up with a broken heart after dating them.

  Attractive guys would befriend her, share beers with her, borrow money from her and then dump her when a prettier, longer legged romantic companion came along who had more to offer. She was always left on the sidelines with nothing to soothe her shattered heart except chocolates.

  Once she’d dated a hunk in her sophomore year in college. His hair had always been perfectly styled. His clothes were immaculate, and his teeth white and straight. He was the perfect gentleman. She wondered, why after dating several months, all he wanted to do was hold her hand.

  On their last date, she had taken the initiative and brushed her lips against his for a goodnight kiss. He’d looked shocked, said goodnight and practically ran away. Jocelyn never heard from him again. A couple of years later she heard he had found a man to love. He married him and moved out of state.

  That experience still didn’t deter her from being attracted to gorgeous men. When she started at the investment firm, she was immediately attracted to a very handsome co-worker. They went on a few dates. While they were out, his cell phone constantly buzzed. He never answered the calls and apologized profusely for any interruptions when they were together.

  Each day at her desk, for hours she found herself fantasizing about being alone with the man. One evening he invited her to his apartment for dinner. She was so excited to be spending an intimate evening with him; she’d rushed straight home from work, restyled her hair, showered, sprayed on her most expensive perfume and dressed in her sexiest outfit. She was at his door fifteen minutes early for their date.

  After dinner, they kissed each other for a while. Then things became more heated and passionate. YES FINALLY, she thought.

  He left the living room to use the bathroom. Jocelyn figured he was going to get protection. She noticed he had left his cell phone on the end table near the couch. While he was in his bathroom, it rang incessantly. When he returned, she said half jokingly, “Somebody is certainly desperate to reach you!”

  He replied, “It’s just my wife. She wants to get back together, but I’m not interested.” Jocelyn couldn’t believe it. He had never mentioned a wife on any of their prior dates.

  She quickly made an excuse to leave his apartment and never returned any of his calls. He cornered her one day at their building to question why she had stopped seeing him. She told him she would never have gone out with him if she had known he was married.

  Months later through the office grapevine, she heard he had reconciled with his wife and together they had a healthy baby boy.

  Bad romantic experiences didn’t teach her she was lousy selecting the perfect guy for herself. She eventually married a gorgeous man, but she didn’t realize until after they had been married for a couple months how self centered and narrow-minded he was. His good looks were only skin deep.

  His skin and hair care products had cost her a small fortune. And because she was the one employed most of the time, she’d basically supported the both of them.

  Jealousy became her constant companion because women had come on to him right and left. After they were married, he refused to work or wear his wedding ring. He claimed it made his finger itch.

  He’d had one affair after another. She’d left him when she couldn’t take any more of the telephone hang ups when she answered their phone or smelling perfume she didn’t wear on his clothing when she did their laundry.

  She’d become bitter toward men after giving up on her marriage she’d sworn off men and became determined to remain celibate until the day she died.

 

  “No everything is fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Huh,” said Jocelyn, as Ramon’s voice brought her back to the present.

  Before she could leave his office gracefully, his phone rang. He answered it. “What did you say?” He put the phone down then yelled, “Goddamn it!” Suddenly he moved from behind his desk, grabbing Jocelyn’s hand, pulling her along behind him as he hit a red button near his desk.

  Jocelyn resisted being pulled by him. She said, “Wait, where are you are taking me?”

  He looked down at her and said, “There’s a bomb in the building!”

  Soon they were out of his office and in the hallway as a siren started to wail. They both started running and yelling, “Get out, there’s a bomb in the building!”

  After everyone was out of the building and standing a safe distance away, Jocelyn thought, I was wrong; this definitely is the third and worst thing to happen to me. She cursed her bad luck.

  Standing outside with Mr. Holliday, Jocelyn asked while shaking nervously, “Does this type of thing happen often at your company?”

  Mr. Holliday replied. “No, but a few minor things started to happen this year when the company started to work on a new project.”

  “What kind of new project?”

  He looked at her closely as though he was deciding if he should share information with her. Jocelyn supposed he was wondering if she was trustworthy.

  Suddenly there was a loud explosion. Ramon covered Jocelyn’s body with his own as he pushed her to the ground. She’d wanted to feel his touch, but not like this.