Free At the Billionaire's Beck and Call by Aurora Dupree

Melinda sighed. She had come out of the bathroom wearing her sexiest lingerie, lacy red bra and panties that accentuated her clothes as well as anything she owned. She had makeup on her face, and cherry red lipstick applied lovingly to her pouting visage. But as Fred sat on the bed, staring at her, she had the feeling that no matter what she did, it would never be good enough for him. She didn't know quite where there relationship had fizzled—but the past few months, their lovemaking sessions had been few and far between. She was putting in the effort, but he certainly wasn't doing anything to keep the union fresh. She supported both of them in her housekeeping job, working for the eccentric billionaire Remington Blackwell, but Fred was unemployed, and he spent most days moping around the apartment, berating her when he could find the chance.
    “What is it with you?” Melinda asked, annoyed and fed up, standing there in her underwear, trying to look sexy for him. “You don't want to have sex with me? I know for a fact that other guys would be lining up around the block.”
    “Don't take this the wrong way,” Fred said, still lying prone on the bed, his hands folded across his chest, “But I think I'd prefer a thinner woman.”
    “What? Are you kidding me?”
    “No, I'm not kidding. I just don't think you're doing it for me anymore.”
    “Thinner? Are you serious? This is what a real woman looks like. This is what curves look like. I'm sorry if you're not man enough to handle me.”
    “I guess I'm not,” Fred said, and she hated the tone in his voice. It was the same tone he always had—one of defeat, one of not trying if it was too hard, one of giving up.
    “Well, I think you're an idiot, Fred. I'm doing everything in this relationship. You don't have a job, you're not looking for work. I pay the rent and buy the food. What are you contributing to the relationship?”
    Fred shrugged.
    “I don't know, but I think it's over.”
    “It's over? What are you talking about?”
    “I'm talking about breaking up with you.”
    Melinda stood there for a long moment. She found her blouse on the floor and put it back on.
    “Go to hell,” she said. “You can find another place to live if you're breaking up with me, considering that I'm paying for this apartment.”
    “What? It's ten at night. Where am I supposed to go?”
    “I don't care. Just get out of here. I never want to see you again.”
    “Fine!” Fred said, angrily, rising from the bed. “But if I go, I'm not coming back.”
    “Good,” Melinda said, realizing that this was a long time coming. She could do better than Fred, no doubt about it. But it hurt her to have him break it off, to know that she wasn't good enough for him. As he collected his things and stormed out, she collapsed onto the bed. But she wouldn't cry. She was stronger than that. She took a few deep breaths, and collected her self, and settled down to sleep, knowing that tomorrow was another day, that at least she had a job, and that she could take care of herself, just like she'd done her entire life.
    ***
    Despite putting on a brave face the night before, Melinda was, in reality, very upset. On her way to Blackwell's mansion to start her job, she broke down into tears, nearly having to pull over to the side of the road. Who was she kidding? She had curves, sure, but all guys these days just wanted those skinny, anorexic looking girls they saw in the magazines and in movies. Fred was a lowlife, a deadbeat, and she wasn't good enough for even him. Sometimes it seemed like there was no justice in the world. Her mascara running, she pulled into the driveway of Blackwell's palatial estate, and headed inside.
    Melinda went in through the back door, for which she had been given the keys, and into the sleek, modern kitchen. She was especially fond of the kitchen, with its new appliances that mostly took care of themselves. Still sobbing a little bit, she set to work cleaning, knowing there was a