The Dumb Fuck Read online

  The

  Dumb

  Fuck

  ~PART ONE~

  A NOVEL IN TWO PARTS

  MARIE STANLEY

  The DumbFuck will be released in two parts.

  Part two is completed and will be released approximately

  two weeks after part one. Part two will include epilogue scenes.

  Copyright © 2016 by Marie Stanley

  Interior Formatting by www.msbarbs.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Digital Edition 1.0 All rights reserved. Where such permission is sufficient, the author grants the right to strip any DRM which may be applied to this work.

  Contents

  Copyright

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

  Waverly’s words to live by,

  Do no harm, take no shit.

  Walker’s words to live by,

  I get what i want !

  CHAPTER ONE

  “The chick with the dark hair was Wednesday, the skinny one blew me on Thursday at lunch in the bathroom, then I did Jamie that night,” the male voice announced proudly.

  Oh, my God that’s Adam, even though it was after hours and there was nobody to see her tucked away in her cubicle, she still automatically ducked down to remain invisible. Adam Brown was Waverly’s boss, well, one of them, he was the Brown in Brown + Grey Design. The entire office had heard the rumors about Adam’s manwhoring ways. And, they were living in Chicago after all – the perfect young professionals after business playground. Slutting around wasn’t her thing, but, hey, live and let live.

  A deep chuckle followed, “Fuck, Adam, you know me, I’m all for getting laid, but your dicks gonna fall off if you keep putting it in all that strange.”

  Hmm, that voice she didn’t recognize, it was low, deeper with a rough darkness and sort of velvety at the same time. Her face heated, thinking that it was the kind of voice you could listen to all night, while it whispered naughty things to you – if you know, you were that kind of girl. She wasn’t that kind of girl.

  “Well if they’re not flat out ugly, and it’s offered, I’m taking it,” came Adam’s laughing reply.

  The male voices continued talking and laughing for a few minutes, then the voices trailed off.

  Waverly mentally rolled her eyes, good to know that your boss was so discerning, and discreet, about his conquests, but, whatever, it wasn’t any of her business as long as she kept the job..,and the paycheck. Waverly had come back to work just to print out a file that Adam, needed for a new client pitch the next morning.

  An energetic, determined, twenty-one year old, Waverly Matthews was only a month into her first job as a Junior designer, she still had a month to go on her introductory period before she was fully an employee. She was the proud owner of a shiny new diploma, from a top Midwest art school, hired within a week of her first interview at Brown + Gray Creative.

  Jamie, a friend from high school, had gotten her the interview, although they were roommates now, she wasn’t a close friend, more of an acquaintance from high school. The “good girls” were who Waverly hung out with, Jamie preferred a group that was more wild. A trait that stuck, since Jamie was now ‘dating’ Adam Brown, the Brown, in Brown and Grey. Knowing that working at Brown + Grey was her dream job, and to keep Waverly’s rent money coming in, Jamie hit Adam up for an interview. Personally, she found Adam to be creepy, but she just needed a way to get in the door and let them see her talent. Which was followed by another showing with Human Resources, The interview with Adam was followed by three more interviews, with three different Art Directors, two more interviews with human resources, then, finally a formal job offer – and a chance at having more than thirty-seven dollars in her bank account.

  Jamie’s relationship with Adam Brown was very odd to Waverly, but given that Adam was half owner of the company and it wasn’t like they ever ran in the same social circle, she tried not to judge. Way rarely even saw them together, he came to her apartment almost every night, and they had sex every time, but he never stayed through the night – ever, and he never stayed long. Jamie didn’t care, even admitting that her main goal in moving to Chicago was to marry a rich guy. So Adam came, and then he came, he did give Jamie gifts, things she requested, occasionally he would just hand her cash. It wasn’t the kind of relationship Waverly ever wanted to have, but Waverly could easily admit that she wasn’t an expert on relationships of any kind. She had found a few guys that she liked but she could never get it to develop any further than like.

  Being in the office after hours without anyone there was unusual for her, although, she loved absolutely everything about the place, loved it passionately and she’d fought hard for the offer of Junior Designer. With no real help from her family and their strong disapproval over her chosen career path, she was forced to work two jobs to put herself through school, in a very intensive program. Her minimum wage hostess job kept her busy from four in the afternoon until two in the morning, then home with homework until four in the morning and back up at seven for more homework or one of her five classes, this job was a hard-won victory for her. Being in the ten floor office alone should have felt odd, to Waverly it was heavenly. The chance to take it all in, the glass partitions of the offices, the large printers, the creative war room where they all met to brainstorm, it was a dream come to life for her. Her own cubicle was, of course her favorite part, small, utilitarian and surrounded by her very own clutter – her version of a controlled chaos.

  The voices had interrupted Waverly from her favorite daydream; her rise to the position of Creative Director, in charge of the entire art department. Finally turning on her computer to access the files for the print outs, she watched as it loaded up the programs,

  She pulled herself out of those thoughts and got to work on the task she was there for, opening the file and checking it over on screen before printing it out, these were for the big new client pitch that Adam was giving tomorrow at nine a.m. Waverly was thrilled that her immediate superior had invited her to be a part of the meeting – not a big part, really
just “a warm body”, only there to make the agency look bigger than it really was.

  Heading over to the color printers next to Adam’s office, checking to make sure that the men were gone, Adam and whoever must have headed home. Drumming her fingers on the printer while waiting, she let her thoughts wander again. Whenever Way had time to kill she turned to her daydreams. Slipping into her favorite…entering the conference room of her agency, with her name on the door, striding into her conference room, in a beautiful designer suit, filled with clients waiting for...

  “Need help?”

  A deep low male voice asked. Way jumped, Startled, Way jumped slightly then whirled around.

  “I, Ummm. No, it printed,” she answered, grabbing the prints that must have rolled out while she was daydreaming. That voice. It was the voice talking with Adam earlier.

  “I’m Walker, A friend of Adam’s,” he said, extending his hand.

  His eyes scanned slowly over her, his handsome face showing no expression. Never had a boy or a man look at her the way that he was, so blatantly, and, it was making her nervous. His eyes wandered slowly, back up her body and over her face.

  Waverly reached out to return his handshake, as she looked at him, looked up at him. Six feet, three, she guessed, she was not a short girl, she was tall, five feet, nine inches. Slim, people called her coltish as a young girl, that slimness had turned to curviness. Long legs, very small waist and large, but not huge boobs. Her hair was unusual, thick and blonde, light gold to a soft caramel, with every shade of blonde in between. It was long and unruly and wavy - what she called “bad perm wavy”, but everyone else said they would kill for. Waverly knew that she was vain about her hair, but reaching a height of five feet seven by the time she was thirteen, it often became a shield for her – an invisibility cloak. She had made peace a long time ago with being tall but felt sometimes when you’re tall you need an extra boost of femininity and her hair was that for her. Normally at the office, she had it coerced into a professional ponytail, chignon or twist, but since she had been at home before coming back, it was down and given the humidity today, pretty wavy.

  Her hand began to sweat as she realized that she was still holding his hand, not dropping it after the handshake. He was just standing there, still staring at her, still making her nervous. Raising her head, she peeked up, finding his eyes now narrowed at her, as if he was angry with her. He obviously wasn’t a laid back, chill kind of guy.

  “You look flushed,” he stated bluntly, beginning to pulling his hand free, with a smirk.

  “Do you need some water?”

  Her face flamed even redder than she could feel it already was, finally releasing his hand completely – his very large hand, she noticed.

  Tall and broad, he was darkly handsome in a masculine way, with dark hair, cut shorter on the sides and a longer on the top. A scar marked his left upper lip, slightly more pale than his dark skin so it was fairly noticeable. He was not metrosexual, handsome, more of a manly, I-chop-wood-and-watch-football, handsome. Obviously, he spent a lot of time outdoors, you could see that in his tan skin, and the manly roughness of his hand. He wore a dark gray suit, his shirt a French blue, the top button was undone with his loosened tie and hanging slightly askew. She might not be able to dress in expensive clothes herself yet, but being a designer, but she recognized the quality of what he wore. No matter what his hands felt like, this man was not a blue collar worker.

  Waverly stared into his eyes, a deep indigo blue, while also inspecting his entire face. Hard jaw, high, broad cheekbones, strong forehead. His nose, classically male, his lips below were full, curved and firm – god, he’s amazing, she thought. Tall and muscular, without that overdone, lifter look, broad shoulders that make him look both so masculine and dangerous.

  “No,” she whispered, her eyes still in the process of circling and cataloging every feature on his face.

  “No?” He asked, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly, his eyebrows raised, his deep blue eyes now wandering over her face.

  Way felt herself resisting the urge to wipe the sweat off her brow, how embarrassing, she thought. This guy is a man. A man, not a boy, it’s as if I’ve never even spoken to a man before. Boys sure, she had plenty of experience with boys. Boys were all over her, always had been, from the time she was in kindergarten, chasing her on the playground, fighting over her in high school. Boys, she knew, boys, she knew how to handle, sexually and emotionally. Men, she realized, were out of her comfort zone.

  “No, no water,” Waverly blurted out, shaking herself out of the warm glow of his presence.

  “Okay... You didn’t tell me your name?” He stated, his eyebrows raised questioningly.

  “Waverly, Waverly Matthews,” she answered, smoothing back her hair and tucking it behind her ear, nervously.

  “Nice to meet you, Waverly.”

  His voice was rough and low, and his stare direct as he watched her hand move to her hair.

  “You here for Adam?”

  “Yes. Adam. I’m here for him. For Adam,” Way answered in a halting whisper, mesmerized by the intensity of his stare.

  He gave a low chuckle, the sound warming her low in her belly. Smiled fleetingly up at him, she stood there, simply enjoying the sound. He captivated her instantly - tall, dark hair, deep blue eyes; what girl wouldn’t be infatuated with this guy at first sight? But he came from money, she could tell by the expensive clothes and rich boy hair cut. A guy like this was out of her league, she could barely speak to him, he would see her as a girl, a child, not a woman. She frowned.

  When his hand reached out, she flinched slightly, his hand paused.

  “Don’t frown, Waverly.”

  His finger continued its movement to her forehead, his finger smoothing over her frown lines, softly back and forth.

  “Pretty name, Waverly,” he murmured, as his eyes skated slowly back down over her, stopping at her breasts.

  Holding her breath, Waverly watched him, her body heating as she watched him taking in her breasts. The weight of his hand was heavy as it slid down to her arm, stroking softly, watching his own hand move over her. Dropping his eyes lower, his look was strong and steady –surveying every part of her body. His confidence perusal affected Way, her skin began to prickle. She was both frightened and excited by him.

  “Do you want a drink?”

  He asked, his head leaning down into her, his voice low, his very large, and very warm hand moved up her arm, to slide under her hair and around the back of her neck.

  “No, thanks. No water for me, I’m good,” she squeaked out.

  His head ducked down closer to hers and he laughed softly, his breath tickling her ear.

  “I’ll bet you are, but I meant a real drink I know where Adam keeps the real stuff in his office”

  Way had never been a party girl. Too busy taking care of herself by working part-time jobs to support herself, she had almost no experience with alcohol. A few sips of champagne at Christmas with her Grandparents, and once at New Year’s Eve, when she worked at a restaurant, was about the total of her experience. She fought against saying yes. This was her work place, but she wanted to seem mature, like a woman, a sophisticated woman who knew how to drink.

  A ringing phone caused him to abruptly pull away from her, turning his back to see where in the office it was coming from. No longer under his spell, the breath she didn’t realize she had been holding in, escaped, and reality kicked in. Snatching the prints she headed into Adam’s office. Quickly she would drop these off and go, get away from him, the man, the handsome, intimidating man. Thankfully, Adam was not in his office, Waverly stepped around the desk, leaning down to grab a post it to label the prints for Adam.

  Her eyes wandered over the organized project piles, the pens neatly lined up, and some kitschy memorabilia arranged on Adam’s desktop. Everything he owned seemed to be expensive, trendy
or both. From a young age, Waverly had been taught that the money didn’t exist for pretty things, they were out of reach, not meant for her. Standing there, free to look and touch any of it was enticing, carefully lifting a pen, she noted the weight of it, ridiculously expensive she assumed. Intrigued, she pulled out the office chair and lowered herself down, sighing, holding the pen up closer to her face, examined it closely. Someday. Someday, she would own a pen like this, expensive, beautiful, sophisticated.

  “What are you doing?”

  Startled, she shoved the chair back, trying to quickly stand up. Walker had entered the office, since Adam’s desk faced the wall and not the door, she couldn’t see him, but judging by the sound of his voice, he was already pretty close to her. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” she whispered to herself. Moving to stand, her skirt stopped her, pulling her back down into the seat, the end of her long boho skirt was caught under the wheel of the chair. As she tried again to stand up, her skirt, with only elastic at the waist was being pulled down. Horrified, she looked down to see that she was half standing, half sitting, with the waistband of her skirt halfway down her thigh, her the waistband string of black thong fully exposed.

  “Um, I’m stuck,” Way offered in a small voice, wiggling and trying to dislodge her skirt.

  Her face was flaming, now totally humiliated in front of this confident, handsome man. He moved closer to her, much closer than before – right next to her, his entire body touching her side.

  “Obviously. Want help?”

  His eyes were fixed on her thigh, the black strap of her thong showing off her bare hip and thigh. Shaking her head in frustration sent her blonde wavy hair flying, she wanted to shout at him to leave. Just, leave, so she could suffer this embarrassment alone, without his dark blue eyes watching, and then run out of the building, home to her apartment, where she could melt down into tears.