A little ditty I hope you enjoy.
I PREY
She was nervous and who wouldn’t be? Murielle was taking over the dead girl’s desk. Her clothes matched the disinterested walls and her shoes disappeared into the carpet. Greg speculated the nude pantyhose she wore actually gave her stilts a wee bit of a tan. The other water cooler hunters guffawed. They placed bets on how long it would take to pick the latest wallflower.
He began as any good gardener, with lots of fertilizer. He asked for a copy of a worthless office memo sadly confessing, “I’m just not organized”.
“ I understand that.” Murielle giggled. “I’m still moving in…all over the place. I wish I could remember where I put things and didn’t have to go through box after box.” Embarrassed by her rambling, she gave him the memo and retreated. Greg gave a thumbs up: game on. He’d seen that her date book was empty. There were no pictures on her desk, just an asparagus fern moping down its corner. Murielle’s social life appeared stunted.
He began to stop at her desk for chitchat. Often all she could do was blush and smile. Her eyes always lit up to see him though, encouraging him. So Greg asked her to lunch. He gave her the office dirt, including the haunting tale of the girl whose desk she took. Judy had killed herself several months before. “She was new. Didn’t have any friends.”
“How lonely.” Murielle said softly. “Poor girl. No friends?”
“Nope. We all knew who she was, noticed she was gone, but she’s not really missed. You know?”
“ I pray that I’m never alone like that.” Murielle sighed. Greg caressed her arm warmly across the table.
“I’d like to ensure that.” Her cheeks flushed.
Greg was generous with his attention, compliments and time. They spent evenings at posh shows or dinners. He made her feel lovely, like a spring flower. When together, her spirits bloomed and she laughed heartily. His friends leered from behind cowardly Dixie cups when she walked by. Greg laughed at how easily he was wearing away her thorny insecurities. It was taking longer than expected, but he could feel the prize was close. Good thing, he was growing bored. Greg’s cronies wondered if he’d forfeit. Rumor had it that there was a hot newbie down in HR. He contemplated this but felt there was too much money and reputation to lose.
She offered to cook dinner one night.
“This is IT!” he bragged to his boys. To her, his reply was a quiet “I haven’t had a good home cooked meal since my mother died.” Murielle hugged him briefly.
“I don’t know about good, but I can boil water without burning it.”
Preparing for battle, he wore his black cashmere sweater that accentuated his sexy, curly black hair and endless deep, dark eyes; tan pants that hugged his slightly doughy frame but not too tightly and unfortunately a little too much cologne. He winked to himself and headed out.
When she opened the door, a wine glass in one hand, a dishtowel draped over her shoulder, he could only stare. Her hair was long, winding down her filmy blouse hinting a voluptuous cleavage. She turned on her heel and headed into the kitchen.
“I’m behind schedule, but you can help me drink the wine.” She laughed carelessly.
Two bottles passed and they hadn’t eaten. He grandstanded, pointing with his wineglass as if conducting a band. He closed the gap between them. His lips barely touched hers. She could almost taste the wine. His hands wound around her hips pulling her greedily to him.
“Greg.” She sighed. “Please.”
“I don’t want to stop Murielle. I’ve never met anyone like you. Let’s just close our eyes and leap.” With tiny little kisses, he lured her to the sofa where he coaxed the buttons on her blouse. With each surrender, he nuzzled her warm skin.
“How many others, Greg?” she quietly asked.
“Just you.”
“Today?”
“I want only you, Murielle.”
“What about Judy?”
He stopped. His mouth felt full of cotton candy and pumice. “Who?”
“That girl who died. You were friends.” She pushed. “Maybe more?”
“I felt sorry for her. She was standoffish, not too pretty OR friendly. Even I had trouble liking her. I like you Murielle. A lot” his breathe was warm his tongue soft and curious on her body. “I want you.”
“We have something in common.” Murielle giggled nudging him. Greg pushed against her, desire dripping from him like an ice cream cone melting in the summer sun.
“Judy.” She whimpered. “We have Judy in common.”
He gritted his teeth. Impatient. “What are you talking about?”
“That unfriendly, ugly hermit was my sister. It seems she WAS lonely and only wanted a gentle loving man, a great friend in her life. You answered all those prayers Greg. But then you used her up and when through, you and your buddies laughed at her leaving her feeling foolish, hopeless. Alone. That’s what her diary said. They released it to me after she died. It was all because of you. She loved the wrong man.”
“Wait, it wasn’t like that….” He sputtered.
“ I prayed I would be given the chance redeem her; the spirit you so selfishly crushed. My prayers have been answered since you are here with me tonight. And so it's YOUR turn to pray, Greg. Now.”
“Oh God.” He choked.
The end came for Greg as quickly as his misjudgment of Murielle.
Everyone watched her pack. “ I’d heard he was a ladies’ man, but a rapist? He didn’t seem the type, so good looking. I don’t know how Murielle found the strength to fight back! Better him than her.” Her office mates whispered shaking their heads in astonishment. No one blamed her for Greg’s deserving demise.
She took root in a new office, setting up a simple desk: no pictures, no visitors or social plans. Her only company seemed to be an asparagus fern moping down the front of her desk.
The copy machine cowboys made a bet. Who could bag her first? Jarod sauntered over and struck up a conversation with the new little wallflower named Murielle.
“You remind me of someone.” She mused and he grinned at her.
Game on.
