My Guardian

Prologue

"Sarah, come on, it'll be fun. We spend so much time together; why don't we just have a small relationship for our away trips? We can't always resist the connection we feel."

Martin's hands tease the exposed skin of my shoulders, my evening gown more revealing than I would like. It's not like tonight's gala left me with many options. A shiver dances down my spine as I step out from under his hands to turn to look him straight in the eyes. He probably only stands about an inch taller than my five-foot-seven-inch self.

"Martin, you're married, I'm not about to sleep with a man I know is married." I won't become the little homewrecker secretary you always read about in those stupid cliche stories. He's not bad looking; with his raven black hair, baby blue eyes and trim physique. I'm not about to let raging hormones ruin a marriage. While I haven't been with a man in more than a year, I won't use a married man to scratch an itch.

"Sarah loosen up some, Ariel has always wanted to try a threesome." Martin offers a sly smile, his eyes dancing with lust as he steps closer, trailing his fingers up my arms seductively. No, no, no, don't go there. I frown, hating how my core reacts to the idea of sex itself. I shake my head and force space between us. Just keep distance. I move towards the bed of my room, aiming to grab my forgotten purse.

"Martin, do you even hear yourself? To have a threesome, she would have to be here! And in case you've forgotten, she isn't here! You know what Martin you have stepped too far this time! I quit; I'm not putting in my two weeks either." Before my resolve weakens I snatch my purse and storm from the hotel room, listening to him catapult insults through the door. What on earth did I just do? My mind draws a blank as I stand in the elevator, the subtle music fills the blank space.

The weight that has settled on my chest just disappears, dissolving into nothingness. Did I really quit? Why? The question nearly has me rolling my eyes, maybe it has something to do with my subconscious growing a backbone. I really just stood up for myself. I don't know if I should laugh, cry, scream or get drunk. Yes, because getting drunk is really the answer to everything. I sound like my mother, and that's a scary thought.

Then I step out into the cold streets of downtown Chicago, a frigid breeze bombards my exposed skin and chills me to the bone. This wasn't one of my brightest stick it to the man moments, not that I've had many. Now, I'm in the middle of downtown Chicago, mid November no less; without a coat of any kind, plan, or a job. I must have just gotten off the bus in crazy town. Because I can't help but feel lighter and more free. I had all the stability in the world, a well paying job, a nice apartment provided by said job.

What am I even doing with my life? This isn't what I wanted. I went to school to become a Veterinarian; I wasn't even close to my field of study as a secretary. Not even a good one. The only reason I kept that job was because I was clueless to whatever debauchery was going on in the office. I'm tired of running errands for a man who only sits on his ass all day! It's well past time for me to take time for myself and make my life something I'm happy with!

Determined to do something for me, I pull my phone out to call a taxi, at this hour it'd be nearly impossible to flag one down. I'm reminded of the fact that I'm coatless in a formal knee length dress as another frosty wind chills the streets. Goosebumps dance across my exposed skin as a shiver slides down my spine at the chill. Could have thought this through more. My eyes scan the street as I bite my lip, I'm only met with the hotel lobby and a sparse scattering of store fronts.

My attire isn't exactly fall/winter attire, the dress and three inch heels aren't very good for treading ice. No, I make enough of a spectacle of myself without adding ice to the equation. Small white flurries start to fall down, like the iconic scene in a city like snowglobe, the winter wonderland aesthetic is beautiful. Just a lot prettier when I'm bundled up by a warm fire. I grumble as I move down the street in an attempt to find a warm building to take cover in.