Flashback: How did Jessica become a cheating slut? (Option 2)

The sleek, dark Mercedes rolled easily and gracefully through the evening traffic. Jack Hermansson smiled. The luxury car obeyed his every touch on the steering wheel as he effortlessly navigated the Stockholm streets, while thick, white flakes flurried out of the sky. The snow was beginning to pile up in the majestic old city, covering the sidewalks, landmarks, and buildings in a muted white blanket. On one hand, it made it all look beautifully magical, but it had also prompted him to reduce his pace. His passenger would arrive a few minutes later at her hotel, but she’d arrive safe and sound.

It hadn’t been long since he had started his job as a driver and he still hadn’t completely gotten used to this: fine cars to drive the rich and famous around town.

His eyes flitted to the rearview mirror. As important as he knew it was to pay attention to the traffic, he just couldn’t resist stealing another glimpse at the gorgeous female passenger in the backseat. “So, did you enjoy the fashion show?”

Her soulful brown eyes widened ever so slightly when he spoke up, the woman clearly startled from her thoughts as she lounged comfortably on the leather upholstery. Jessica Alba straightened in her seat, her eyes darting over to meet her driver’s gaze in the rearview mirror.

“Hmm? Oh, yes, I did.” The Latina allowed a brief polite smile to slide across her lips in an effort to discourage any more chitchat while also not coming off like a total bitch. Thankfully, the polite driver got the message and turned his attention back to the road ahead. Jessica let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding in. It hadn’t just been a long day; it had been a long decade. Bouncing around between her responsibilities with her family and her company while simultaneously trying to keep her acting career afloat and making appearances here, there and everywhere had a tendency to wear one out. Lately, all she wanted to do in the evening was to slide into a warm bath and forget all about the pressures of her day-to-day life. Just on this trip to Stockholm alone she had met with a potential producer for a new movie, had given an interview for the Swedish Vogue on female entrepreneurship and had attended a fashion show of an up-and-coming Scandinavian designer. And she had only arrived yesterday in the country and was scheduled to fly out tomorrow after rubbing elbows with a few more potential business partners over breakfast.

Now, a pair of paper bags sat on the seat next to her, one containing an assortment of beauty and self-care products – oils, lotions and the like – that the interviewer at Vogue had presented to her, while the other held a gift that the young designer had bestowed upon her. She regarded the bag with a frown. The designs that she had seen at the show had been decidedly out there, lots of lace and leather. Why her agent had deemed it appropriate to book her for a fashion show running under the title “SLUZ” she would never know. Her best assumption was that he had thought it was a Swedish word…

Of course, Jessica had peeked into the box to find that she had been gifted an outrageous pair of white leather boots with high heels and long legs, surely ending over her knees. Fuck-me-boots if she had ever seen any and it certainly wasn’t the kind of outfit a businesswoman in her early forties would wear outside. She’d most likely just leave the box in her hotel room when she left tomorrow. Maybe it was more the maid’s kinda style...

Reaching up, she rubbed the side of her neck, feeling the stress in her tense muscles beneath the smooth skin. At least, the day was over. She could already see the hotel a few hundred meters down the line, a promising finish line after another exhausting day. All she needed to do was to get back to her room, slip off her heels, maybe order some room service, then catch a few hours of well-deserved sleep before the madness started afresh the next day.

She had barely finished the thought when the phone in her purse started vibrating aggressively.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” The Latina whined, unable to stop her complaint before it slipped past her lips, which drew a sympathetic look from her driver. Giving a tentative, apologetic smile, she reached for her purse and rummaged through it, feeling the tension in the muscles at the back of her neck build with every second that the pulsing vibrations continued. She breathed a sigh of relief when her fingers finally made contact with the godforsaken device and she pulled it free. A brief look at the caller ID did little to ease her stress and for a split-second she toyed with the idea of just letting it ring.

In the end, her discipline won over. If the CEO of her company called, ignoring him was not a good look. She took a deep breath.

“Hey, Mark!” she answered, looking out of the window as the car rolled to a stop at the entrance to her hotel. As her driver climbed out and hurried around the car to open the door for her, she quickly fished a 20$ note from her wallet.

“Damn, Jessica!” The middle-aged man on the other side of the line chuckled, and Jessica could almost see him grin and lean back in his big, sleek office chair, “You sound like you have had a day…”

“… and a half!” she added dryly, too tired to pretend otherwise. Mark wasn’t in the habit of calling for chitchat. He also knew that it was well past 11 at night in Sweden, so if he reached out, it was something important. “What’s up, Mark? Make it quick, please, I am beat and I have an early flight tomorrow!”