Duped and Dumped

Bella Mahaya Carter

Word Count 384

My bodybuilder boss asked me to stay late to help him stretch before a crucial competition. Michael intermittently eyed his reflection in the mirror: dark, curly hair, raven eyes, V-shaped torso, tight gum-chewing jaw, and biceps the size of navel oranges.

Three stretches in, he rubbed his erect penis against my thigh. I stomped his metatarsal with my high-heeled shoe.

“Ouch!” he cried. Hobbling away, he screamed, “Not a great move, kid!”

I left that Friday evening convinced my job was toast.

All night, I kept waking up and falling back into a dream where a tiger had escaped from the local zoo and was trying to get into my house. I ran around naked, frantically trying to lock the doors, which surfaced in every direction. Where did all these portals come from? I wondered.

When I got to the club the next morning, Michael glared at me but sent walk-in sales prospects—whom he’d usually take himself—into my office all day. I knew he thought I’d lose sales, which would give him ammunition to fire me.

Instead, I closed every deal.

“You’re amazing,” he said, at ten p.m., bowing down. “A fucking queen!” Then he added, “The only thing that matters is the gross.” Meaning numbers.

When I told the girls our boss had hit on me, they responded, “Welcome to the club!”

When I told my boss’s boss, he said, “That’s Michael for ya. He’s a schmuck but the best damned closer I’ve ever seen.” This from the man who began our conversation by asking, “How are those delicious dancer’s legs? Still as scrumptious as ever?”

My new boss, Mitch, wore silk suits and Italian leather shoes after hours, but even in sweats, he smelled like a minty peach. He admired the way I got customers to join the health club, was playful, and made me laugh. I thought he was different from his predecessor. One night, he invited me out for melon balls at Jake’s Bar, and we came back to the club after. . .

The next day, he avoided my eyes and only spoke to me once—to ask for my sales sheets.

Duped and dumped, I felt like a fool. I told no one about the one-night stand. Instead, I lobbied to trade our skimpy uniforms and heels for sweats and sneakers.

I won.

But I’d already lost.

Bella is an award-winning author of three books, most recently Where Do You Hang Your Hammock? Finding Peace of Mind While You Write, Publish, and Promote Your Book. A poet, memoirist, and spiritual psychology practitioner, Bella facilitates popular online writing circles for writers, artists, healers, and seekers. Her Spring session begins April 21. Bella’s writing has appeared in many publications, including The Sun, Lilith, and the Brevity Blog. Visit her online at http://bellamahayacarter.com or on Instagram @bellamahayacarter. Bella’s new Substack newsletter—Flying Lessons for Writers—launches soon!