Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 38202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
A man like Mr. Rochester, an irritatingly know-it-all voice inside of me mocks, and it’s because he’s like no other that you want him.
The jeering thought makes me bang harder on the keyboard—-
“Ms. Reed?” a meek voice interrupts my tantrum.
I swing my seat around, snarling, “What?”
The intern jumps, and I curse in my mind, knowing I’m in danger of being a real bitch. It’s one thing to take my frustration out on deserving targets like Virginia, but that I’d go on a rampage on innocent bystanders, too?
“Sorry,” I mutter. “I’ve just a lot on my plate.”
“O-of course, Ms. Reed.” The intern does her best to sound convincing but the terrified expression on her face is a dead giveaway.
I force a smile, but when the girl looks even more terrified, I wipe the fake smile off my face. Lesson learned: when people are used to your resting-bitch face, it’s just better to stick to it.
I clear my throat. “So what is it that you want?”
“I j-just need you to sign these papers?”
Since the intern sounds like she’s about to cry any second, I say right away, “Sure.” I take a look at the documents before scribbling my signature. When I’m done, I hand it back, asking, “Anything else you—-”
But the intern’s already run away.
Right.
I turn to face my laptop again, but I just can’t find the energy to start working again. Out of frustration, I take my iPhone out and log in to a private forum for secretaries and PAs. What I have to say isn’t something I want security to dig out for Mr. Rochester’s benefit.
After clicking on a private message thread, I type, Anyone online?
A reply comes in a moment later.
Sara Crewe: Yo.
Sara is one of my two closest friends from the forum. She works in New York and, in her life-changing quest to get rid of her “old-fashioned” traits, has taken to talking like her vocabulary primarily consists of hip-hop lyrics.
The Little Prince’s Rose: What did you do now?
TLPR, on the other hand, works from Beverly Hills and is a tough cookie on the outside, but a hopeless romantic on the inside. We practically know everything about each other but for the sake of our jobs, we’ve also chosen not to reveal our identities to each other or use any real names in our conversations.
It’s a bit paranoid of us, but in this age of Wikileaks, you just can’t be too safe.
Me: Thank God you guys are online. I’m so pissed. And @TLPR what do you mean what did I do?
The Little Prince’s Rose: Because you’re always the troublemaker among the three of us.
Sara Crewe: Preach.
Me: Am not, and Sara can you please skip the teenage talk just this once? I’m in trouble.
The Little Prince’s Rose: Like I said.
Me: @TLPR shut up.
Sara Crewe: Fine, just this once – and I mean it. If I don’t practice, I get rusty.
Me: Seriously? You need to practice saying yo?
Sara Crewe: Yes.
Me: You’ve got issues, Sara. Real issues. We need to talk about it one day – but not now because I’m calling dibs on today.
The Little Prince’s Rose: So what DID happen?
Me: It’s like this.
I feel my forehead creasing into a scowl as I type the rest of my story, leaving nothing out except for my name and Mr. Rochester’s. While I can never be this honest with anyone else, being quasi-anonymous has a rather liberating effect on me, making both Sara and TLPR privy to many of my innermost thoughts.
Sara Crewe: Is it true though? Were you on the verge of you-know-what just by looking at his photo?
Me: What’s you-know-what? And I’m just asking this because I’m your friend and I want to help you become a modern-day slut.
The Little Prince’s Rose: HAHAHAHA
Sara Crewe: Fine. MASTURBATING. Did your boss’ near-naked photo get you to masturbate? Happy now?
Me: Hey! Don’t be mad. I just don’t want you to get rusty.
Sara Crewe: You haven’t answered my question.
Me: What do you think? Of course not!
Sara Crewe: You’re lying.
The Little Prince’s Rose: She’s lying.
Me: Am not.
The Little Prince’s Rose: We know you, Jane Eyre. So stop jerking us around. What happened next?
Me: Okay fine but for the record – I wasn’t about to masturbate myself last night.
Sara Crewe: Still lying.
The Little Prince’s Rose: Still lying.
Me: Whatever. Anyway, he didn’t use it to blackmail me. Instead he deleted it, and he told me that he doesn’t need any leverage to make me do whatever he wants.
The Little Prince’s Rose: Ooooh. This is getting interesting. Why did he say that?
Me: He says it’s because I want him, and that’s all the power he needs.
Sara Crewe: How cunning! And true!
Me: And now I can’t concentrate on anything. I just keep thinking about it and I hate how it’s affecting me. He’s made me this nasty monster—-
Sara Crewe: But you’re always nasty.