Idle Minds are the Devil's Plaything

Finally, some good news. Ashley sent a message informing Olivia Walker that Victoria had been found at the church she used to attend and, as an added miracle, her mutism had been cured. It had been a surprise to Olivia when her daughter had become interested in religion, but if that was what it took to get their lives back on track then the blonde MILF would gladly thank the Lord. As day turned to evening, the remaining hours fewer in number, she hoped to leave the terribleness in yesterday where it belonged. Though she knew that meant, at some point, she would have to face her husband again.

Leaning back in her chair, she stared idly at the pair of heeled boots on the screen of her laptop. The last thing she needed was to spend money at a time like this, when the company might be under review for God only knows how long, and these boots especially weren’t cheap. But she’d long since given up on trying to do any work, her mind far too distracted to concentrate. After that, she turned to the news, first political, then environmental, then finally succumbing to entertainment and gossip, articles she normally loathed but were just the kind of mind-numbing she needed right now. But there was only so much she could take, until finally she turned to her last resort, shopping.

The shoes themselves didn’t even really matter. It was about making a decision and clicking a button and getting what she wanted. It was a simple display of authority and control in a situation where she had relatively little of either. But even more than that, she was procrastinating. She knew if she went back to the house, she’d have to see Richard, and that meant either sitting in a loaded silence or ending up in an argument again. They didn’t seem to be able to agree on anything since the hack and she just couldn’t find the strength to go around that tired carousel again today.

“Mrs. Walker?”

She looked up in the direction of the light tapping, coming from the doorway where a familiar young man stood, watching her pensively. “Gavin? What are you doing here? The newspaper was temporarily shut down. Didn’t you get the memo?”

“I did, I came to see you,” Shawn acted shy. “I mean, to see how you were doing with…everything.”

“That’s sweet,” she said with a soft smile. “Did Richard tell you I was here?”

“No, I don’t know where you live but I was passing by and saw the lights on upstairs,” he lied easily. “I just assumed it was you.”

“What does that say about me?” she mused, as much to herself as to him, wondering if she really did spend too much time at the office, was too dedicated to her work, that it was her negligence that might be pushing Richard into the willing arms of another woman. “Well, as you can see, I’m wallowing.”

“That’s why I also brought my friend ‘Jim’ to console you.” He produced a bottle of bourbon from behind his back and set it on the table, the label facing her.

“That’s not really appropriate,” Olivia with stern eyes though she wasn’t really mad, appreciating the gesture at least. “I’m your boss.”

No, you’re not, he thought, as he pulled out a chair and took a seat near but not beside her, not wanting to be too familiar too quick. “My mother always said there was two times that it’s appropriate to drink, no matter who you’re with. One is when you’re celebrating and the other is when you’re sad. I guess she must have had a lot to celebrate because she drank a lot.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” The blonde MILF pouted as she considered the bottle before her. What better way to numb her mind than to get good old-fashioned shit-faced? “Oh, alright, fine, just a couple.”

“Think of it as my way of apologizing anyway,” he said, watching her cross over to a filing cabinet and produce two clear plastic cups from the top drawer.

“What do you have to apologize for?” she glanced over at him as she laid out the cups and allowed him to pour a quarter into each.

“I guess I just feel a little responsible for distracting you,” he explained, handing her a cup. “If I hadn’t sent you searching for Richard, maybe you would have noticed something was wrong.”

“It’s not your fault. You were just doing your job,” she took a sip of the bourbon and sat down again. “Who was it that told you Richard was in the records room?”

“That intern, the girl, Aimee, no Alexis…” he feigned a failure to remember.

“Alexa,” Olivia corrected him, her voice hard and bitter.

“That’s the one. She said Richard was in the records room and needed your help,” he told her, struggling not to smile, knowing that even if she verified the information with Alexa, she’d never believe the younger woman.

So that had been her plan, Olivia deduced, wandering right into Shawn’s trap. That night Olivia had found the intern in her husband’s office, waiting for him. Sending her to the records room must have been her way to distract his wife while she planned to seduce him. Unfortunately for the little harlot, Olivia had gotten to the office before Richard did. Yet, there was no evidence, only Gavin’s word, and she knew her husband wouldn’t fire her based on that alone. Feeling powerless again, she downed the rest of her cup.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked as he poured her another drink.

“Huh?” she grunted, coming out of her daze and taking her cup back in hand.

“Even if you say it wasn’t my fault, I still feel guilty, so if there’s anything you need, let me do it for you,” he offered, leaning closer without moving his chair. “You hungry? I could go grab some take-out.”

“I don’t think I can eat right now,” she insisted, drinking instead. “You’re kind to offer but I don’t think there’s anything anyone can do for me right now.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. The police will catch who did this to the newspaper,” he had to struggle to suppress a smile at that lie. “And…well, I don’t want to pry, but I get the sense that everything isn’t copacetic between you and your husband. But I’m sure it’ll all work out.”

“It’s that…bitch,” she said without thinking, the **** already beginning to slacken her judgement. “She wants my husband and she’s doing everything in her power to take him from me. I don’t think he’ll cheat, I trust him, but I know he enjoys the attention and right now, divided as we are…in my mind, I just keep thinking the worst. Imagining the worst.” She set down her cup as she hung her head in her hands. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be unloading on you like this.”

“Sssh, it’s fine, I’m happy to listen.” He stood beside her and rested a considerate hand on her shoulder. “You said it yourself, it’s all in your head. I’m sure they aren’t really fucki-I mean, doing whatever you suspect. I bet he’s at home right now, thinking about you.”

In truth, Detective McClane had been to the Walker home and spoke to Richard about that night as part of her follow-up, conveniently leaving Shawn out of her questions. Instead, she had come back with some very valuable information, that Alexa just so happened to be there with him. If he could get Victoria’s mother to go home, she’d find her there, and in her current, bitter, drunken state, there was no way she’d believe nothing was going on between them. In her despair, she’d come crawling to the one kind, noble figure in her life right now, him.

“Do you think they’re actually fucking?” The word, so unused by Olivia Walker felt heavy and dirty on her tongue, especially because she was talking about her own husband with another woman. “Oh, god, they are, aren’t they?”

“Wait, I didn’t say that,” he put on a face of concern as she reached for her cup again.

She missed. The cup fell on its side and rolled off the table onto the hard wood floor leaving pools of bourbon on both. The tipsy MILF immediately flung herself after it, dropping to her hands and knees on the floor beside her chair, and reaching for the now empty cup. Behind her back, Shawn grinned, baring his teeth as he slipped his phone out of his pocket and captured the image of Olivia Walker on all fours, back curved, her round, tight ass pushed up into the air.

“Get me some paper towels from the toilet,” she requested, not even hearing the click of the device behind her.

When next she looked over her shoulder, Gavin was scurrying into the room his arms full of blue paper rolls. “Haha, not that many,” she giggled, the **** making her act like she was sixteen all over again. She took one roll and began to soak up the bourbon on the floor while Gavin dealt with the spill on the table. In a matter of minutes, everything was as clean again.

“Whew. I must be tired, to be so clumsy,” she said, refusing to blame the bourbon coursing through her blood, making her feel warm and delighted, just what she needed. Well, there was one other thing. “Listen, Gavin, there is one thing I want you to do for me.”

“Anything,” he said dutifully. “Name it.”

“I need to know, but no one will be honest with me, but I have to know for sure, for my own peace of mind. The not knowing, the never being sure is going to drive me crazy,” she prefaced, then paused before asking, “Can you ask around and find out what’s really doing on? If they’re really doing what I think they’re doing?”

“You mean Alexa and your husband? Mrs. Walker, I’m absolutely positive that they’re not fucking,” he said, gesturing towards the door. “If you’d just go home and talk to your husband, you’d see that for yourself.”

“No, I can’t. I can’t even bear to look at him right now, just imagining what might be going on between them.” She poured herself another cup, this time almost half full. “Please. I know, as your boss, I’m putting you in a very awkward position, but I need to know the truth. I need to hear it from someone I trust.”

It wasn’t perfect, but with a little technical engineering he could make it work. Since he had already gained her trust, all it required was a little nudge in the right direction, to tip her over to the point where she stopped hiding behind walls of being noble and respectable. Women. So, concerned with keeping up appearances when beneath the hard outer shell of integrity always lay a slut in waiting. Take away the chance of a husband finding out her true nature, and offer her a man to trust with her ‘secret’, and the woman always turned out to be a whore.

“Of course,” he said with a smile. “I’ll be in touch.”

“I’ll be here.” She began drinking again as she watched him leave. “And thank you.”

As he left Victoria’s mother to drown her sorrows alone, he pulled up the picture of her on his phone again. Beneath the shot of her on all fours, her ass taking up most of the image, he captioned it ‘send pics or i will’. As the smile on his face widened into a shit-eating smirk, he sent the message to Kendra, confident that it would find its way to the intended target, Victoria Walker.