The Fallen Salesgirl - Chapter 3: Chapter 3
You are reading The Fallen Salesgirl, Chapter 3: Chapter 3. Read more chapters of The Fallen Salesgirl.
Growing up in a small town with good nutrition and an active lifestyle had blessed me with curves—maybe a little too much for this fitted blazer. The buttons strained as I moved, barely keeping everything contained.
Mr. Winston hesitated at first, put off by my icy demeanor. But his sleazy gaze still made my skin crawl. I leaned forward slightly under the guise of showing him property brochures—just enough to give him a view.
Right on cue, his eyes locked onto my cleavage. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.
During the tour, he inched closer than necessary, his hand settling on my waist like he owned me. The thought of this greasy, middle-aged creep touching me turned my stomach, but I clenched my jaw and kept smiling through the presentation.
Encouraged by my silence, he got bolder—his fingers crept up my thigh, slipping under my skirt through the sheer fabric of my stockings.
I shot up from my seat.
Mr. Winston's glare burned with irritation. Forcing a smile, I excused myself to get him water. He scoffed and stormed out without another word.
Outside, our sales manager, Olivia, chased after him like a scolded puppy, groveling and whispering apologies.
Just then, Vivian returned. My best friend's eyes were red and puffy—she'd clearly been crying in the bathroom. I squeezed her shoulder, not knowing what to say.
After shooing Mr. Winston out, Olivia marched back in. "Vivian did exceptionally well today," she announced. "Mr. Winston found her most accommodating. She'll handle this deal exclusively—commission included." Then her glare landed on me. "As for you, Yvette, what the hell were you thinking? If I hadn't smoothed things over, we'd have lost this sale!"
I stared at the floor, too exhausted to fight back.
Once Olivia left, Vivian grabbed my arm in a panic. "What do I do?" Her voice shook. "He's not going to stop."
I had no real answer. "Just... don't end up pregnant," I muttered helplessly.
By Friday, Vivian's quiet mood had me worried. "What happened?" I pressed when she clammed up about the deal.
"I know you're hurting," I said softly, pulling her close, "but you've put in so much time. Walking away now would be such a waste."
Blushing, she lifted her skirt slightly, then tugged down the edge of her underwear.
My breath hitched.
Every last strand of hair had been waxed away—nothing but smooth, bare skin.
I won't lie—the sight was... startling. And not in a bad way.
Mr. Winston hesitated at first, put off by my icy demeanor. But his sleazy gaze still made my skin crawl. I leaned forward slightly under the guise of showing him property brochures—just enough to give him a view.
Right on cue, his eyes locked onto my cleavage. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.
During the tour, he inched closer than necessary, his hand settling on my waist like he owned me. The thought of this greasy, middle-aged creep touching me turned my stomach, but I clenched my jaw and kept smiling through the presentation.
Encouraged by my silence, he got bolder—his fingers crept up my thigh, slipping under my skirt through the sheer fabric of my stockings.
I shot up from my seat.
Mr. Winston's glare burned with irritation. Forcing a smile, I excused myself to get him water. He scoffed and stormed out without another word.
Outside, our sales manager, Olivia, chased after him like a scolded puppy, groveling and whispering apologies.
Just then, Vivian returned. My best friend's eyes were red and puffy—she'd clearly been crying in the bathroom. I squeezed her shoulder, not knowing what to say.
After shooing Mr. Winston out, Olivia marched back in. "Vivian did exceptionally well today," she announced. "Mr. Winston found her most accommodating. She'll handle this deal exclusively—commission included." Then her glare landed on me. "As for you, Yvette, what the hell were you thinking? If I hadn't smoothed things over, we'd have lost this sale!"
I stared at the floor, too exhausted to fight back.
Once Olivia left, Vivian grabbed my arm in a panic. "What do I do?" Her voice shook. "He's not going to stop."
I had no real answer. "Just... don't end up pregnant," I muttered helplessly.
By Friday, Vivian's quiet mood had me worried. "What happened?" I pressed when she clammed up about the deal.
"I know you're hurting," I said softly, pulling her close, "but you've put in so much time. Walking away now would be such a waste."
Blushing, she lifted her skirt slightly, then tugged down the edge of her underwear.
My breath hitched.
Every last strand of hair had been waxed away—nothing but smooth, bare skin.
I won't lie—the sight was... startling. And not in a bad way.
End of The Fallen Salesgirl Chapter 3. Continue reading Chapter 4 or return to The Fallen Salesgirl book page.