Millie's Mayhem

She swerved out of the parking bay, backing up without really looking, her eyes blurry with the tears that were cascading down her cheeks. Bitch! Millie thought. The tyres screeched as she planted her foot on the accelerator. Bitch! It was the only word Milli could form at present.

Angela fucking Rasenbach -- Editor and chief of Mayhem Magazine! Socialite elite and so unattainably beautiful you'd gouge your own eyes out so as not to have to look upon another thing else for the rest of your life. Angela fucking Rasenbach -- BITCH!!

Who the hell did she think she was? Millie thought. Really? She's just a damn woman. Okay so she has a bit of influence in the world and she's your boss, well ex-boss now, but that doesn't give her the goddamn right to do what she did. Millie was so angry, so upset, that the tears just wouldn't stop coming. She could barely see where she was driving.

How humiliating it had been, when Angela had balled her out in front of the entire floor. Telling her that Millie would never be more than a second rate assistant and that Millie should forget about her dreams of one day being a top notch fashion editor because her talents weren't adequate enough to edit an obituary! The gall of the woman, who couldn't function properly unless she had seven espressos' and a handful of pills! Second rate! Fuck her! Millie thought as she swiped at the tears with the back of her hand.

Her little car swerved and veered in her unsteady state but Millie wasn't paying much attention, she just wanted to get out, get out now before she made an even bigger ass of herself. Millie had only managed in making the scene worse, when she'd burst into tears at her idols cruel words and had told Angela she was wrong. Trying to stand up for herself had only made her seem more childish, more sad; more pathetic. What she'd really wanted to do was grab that damnably small cup of hot espresso she'd just given to Angela and toss it in her face. But Millie hadn't had the guts.

It was probably lucky though as she was sure that Angela wouldn't have hesitated to call security and have her escorted out of the building. Angela had fired her, telling her that Millie would get the usual severance package, but that Millie needn't work for the two weeks required as Angela would much prefer to struggle by on her own, than put up with her ineptitude for another moment longer. Millie was to clear her things and leave immediately. Millie had done exactly that, and now she was tearing out of the parking complex at break neck speed simply to put some distance between herself and that venomous woman.

Angela fucking Rasenbach!

Millie hit the bottom level with another screech of tyres. The punishing speed and manoeuvring taxing her beat up, PacMan yellow, '93 Ford Laser hatchback. Millie was only young, twenty and fresh out of community college where she'd taken the required syllabus, so she could get into her desired field. These days you needed the qualifications to even get a foot in. And Millie had been stoked when she'd finally graduated and landed a lowly position at Mayhem Magazine, as assistant to the assistant of Angela Rasenbach.

She then sort of, fell into filling in for Angela's former assistant. Rebecca leaving to have a baby and it was said a 'break from the Mistress'. So Millie wasn't alone in feeling this sense of hatred toward the boss. Still that hadn't lasted long. Three months! Three lousy, stressful, hair pulling months had been all she was allowed before being thrown out like yesterday's print ad. No formal training, no instruction, just thrown in -- sink or swim! Well Millie had obviously sunk!

Millie hit the final bend of the parking garage and yanked on her steering wheel as she belatedly saw the front end of an expensive looking black car nose out of the aisle. Her eyes bleary, Millie didn't have time to think and her little car squealed in protest at the rough treatment but managed to avoid hitting the expensive black one. Millie was no car aficionado, but the other car screamed 'money' so she wanted to avoid hitting it at all costs now that she was out of a job.

However, even with the narrow miss, Millie didn't stop. She heard something thunk against the passengers' side and thought 'Bugger, now I've hit something.' But when she couldn't see anything in her rear view mirror and didn't immediately feel any difference to the car, she thought it must just have been a bollard or something like it and obviously hadn't done any damage so she just kept going.

Millie hit the exit and hardly bothered to slow down. She slowed just enough to make a precursory check that the way was clear, and luckily for her it was. (Unlucky for the black car in her rear view that was beeping its horn and flashing its lights at her.)

Millie floored it and shot out onto Reece Avenue, dashing her hand across her face to wipe away the hot, embarrassed tears and snot as she did. Another insult to add to the injury; Millie was going to look a fright when she finally stopped crying. She turned down a side street to avoid the lights and headed away from the city centre.

Millie had a small apartment she shared with a friend. Now that she was out of work she guessed she'd probably have to move out. She wouldn't be able to afford the rent if she didn't find another job right away. And jobs were tight at the moment with the economic crisis.

Millie hadn't really been paying attention, and she took the wrong turn off and ended up headed for the A1 which steered her in the opposite direction of her flat; and out of the city. Before she even realised, she'd merged with traffic and was on her way out of town.

When she couldn't figure out where she was or which exit to take so she could turn about and head the right way, she panicked a little and tried to change lanes. Horns blared at her and she was forced to keep to the middle lane she was in. She tried unsuccessfully to change lanes again, only to have a horn blare at her right near her ear and the male driver flip her off as he sped past her.

"Same to you buddy!" Millie yelled at the top of her lungs at the departing rear of the guys' car. "Arsehole!" She wiped her face again. The tears had finally stopped.

Millie kept checking her mirrors, trying to find a break in the outbound traffic but it was a losing battle. No matter how hard she tried she just couldn't get over into the exit lane she wanted; it was packed too tight and cars kept cutting her off. As she checked her mirror once again, she noticed for the third time the big black car following along behind about four cars back. It looked slightly like the one back in the parking garage. But Millie shook off the thought thinking 'why on earth would that car be following me?'

She'd been driving for an hour, the city had well and truly fallen behind and thankfully the traffic was beginning to thin. She indicated to move over into the exit lane, and again was nearly sideswiped by a car as it sped by her. Yet another angry face projected in her general direction. Millie sighed. There must be something wrong with her blinkers. Not knowing what else to do, Millie just kept driving.

It was perhaps another hour later, before Millie had ample opportunity to change lanes and get off the A1. But by this time she was so far out of her known territory that the thought of stopping terrified her a little. There seemed to be nothing for miles. Only two hours out of a sprawling city and five minutes off a major highway, and ... nothing!

It surprised Millie a great deal! She expected at the very least, a gas station or something? But no, not a thing, nothing but green wheat fields as far as the eye could see. Millie swallowed nervously. You always heard stories about things happening to girls from the city when they went out into the country alone!

Millie gave herself a mental shake and told herself to get a grip. She really needed to stop watching so many damn horror movies, 'Texas Chainsaw Massacre' having jumped to the forefront of her mind. Millie hadn't been paying attention and she had failed to notice the black sedan that had pulled off the highway as well a few hundred meters behind her.

Her car jolted, the engine sputtering weakly and throwing her forward in her seat as it jerked and surged in starts and stops. "What the...?" Millie said out loud as she applied the brake and just managed to pull over to the side of the road before her engine died all together. She glanced down at the fuel gauge. "Oh God dammit!" She growled slapping the steering wheel in frustration with both hands. She nearly started crying again. The needle was on 'E', there wasn't a petrol station in sight and she was in the middle of nowhere, not even sure of the name of the road she was on. She glanced around again. Nothing; just endless fields of green!

She needed to call her flatmate Jessica; maybe she could come and get Millie or at least bring her some fuel? She reached over to the passenger's seat to retrieve her handbag and cell, and her hand stopped midair as she saw that neither was on the seat. Millie frowned. Glancing down into the foot-well, thinking that perhaps the jerking of the car had made it fall, but saw it wasn't there either.

She glanced over into the rear seat thinking that she'd mistakenly thrown it in with her half empty box of belongings from her desk when she'd cleared out of the office, but it wasn't there either. It was at that moment Millie noticed the oncoming, sleek black car. She wasn't imagining things this time. That was exactly the same car that had been following her along the highway. And as Millie thought about it; it was probably the same car that she'd cut off in the parking garage.

Millie flicked around and hit the lock button on her door and the one at the rear. Luckily both passenger side doors were still locked. Millie's mind began to race ... This was it! Road rage at its finest! She'd cut this guy off and now he was pissed! Pissed enough that he'd followed her a full, two and a half hours out of the city and onto a deserted road. Now he was going to let her have it full blast, with no witnesses. He was probably going to strangle her! Dump her body in a ditch and drive away with no one the wiser.

Millie's breathing quickened, as irrational panic set in. She glanced in the rear view mirror to check on the car. It had stopped a few meters behind hers and the door was opening. Millie frantically sketched around for something to use in defence; to use as a weapon. No, no, nothing, she thought, then ... Keys! She fumbled to get them out of the ignition and just about screamed when at the precise moment the keys came free, a gloved hand wrapped on her window, making her jump and drop the keys by her feet. "Fuck!" Millie growled quietly through clenched teeth.

She'd been so preoccupied with trying to get her keys out of the ignition she'd failed to notice the guy was right there beside her. She turned her head and all she could see was 'crotch' staring her in the face. Oh it was covered by a super expensive suit pant and shirt, but it was still just a pelvic region that filled her view.

Crotch -- and gloved hands! Oh God; he really was going to kill her! Millie thought to herself as she quickly leant forward and urgently began feeling for her keys. Who in the hell wore gloves anymore? Except psycho killers!

Knock, knock! Again the guy wrapped at her window. Millie flicked a glance across her shoulder at the window as her hand still fished for her keys; and just about crapped herself when she saw the mystery drivers face as it filled the window. Well she saw most of it; his eyes were hidden behind a very expensive, very new pair of Versace sunglasses. This seasons new release if Millie didn't miss her guess. Hell Millie didn't work at Mayhem for nothing. It was one of the foremost -- up and coming -- young fashion magazines around, and those sunglasses were definitely from this year's Spring collection and due to hit the stores next week.

Whoever this guy was, he was well off, and well connected if he already had a pair. From what Millie could see, he was an attractive guy, maybe late thirties, early forties but not much older than that. Chiselled features, right down to the strong square jaw, well defined cheek bones and a prominent, straight nose, very aristocratic Millie thought. He had that affected 'five o'clock shadow-stubble' happening and Millie fought the urge to roll her eyes at it. Oh it suited him of course, but Millie was so sick of seeing it on every other man these days that she would much rather he was clean shaven. Dark, thick, flat eyebrows that dropped to an arch at the ends peaked above the sunglasses, and a thick head of black hair sprinkled with a touch of grey at the temples; along with an all over tan finished off the ensemble. The only thing missing was the super white, super straight, million dollar model smile! Millie couldn't make out his eyes, so effectively hidden behind the sunglasses that he would literally have to remove them for Millie to see.

Millie swallowed, all this information flashing through her mind in seconds as she took in the strangers face, while she thought of a million and one things he could do to her while they were out here; alone... with no witnesses.

He smiled at her once he'd gained her attention; and there it was, that model smile, his white teeth flashing in the afternoon sunlight, and his face transformed right before her eyes as Millie felt a disturbing flutter in her stomach. She swallowed, concerned at her body's reaction to a simple smile, and especially to a man who might be ready to do her harm; her heart pounded. He stepped back a little from the window, still bent and looking in at Millie and proceeded to dangle something up beside his face for her to see.

It was her handbag! How in the hell did he manage to get a hold of that?

"This fell off of the top of your car." His muted words vibrated through the glass of her car window. "Thought you might like it back?"

His voice had a deep resonant timbre to it and Millie felt that tremble in her innards once more. Oh God! She thought to herself. Now's not the time to be getting all fluttery and flustered! Millie was aware that he hadn't made any overly threatening gestures, but that didn't mean he couldn't be dangerous. He might be just waiting for her to let her guard down before pouncing.

Millie's indecision or nerves must have shown on her face, because the very attractive stranger reached up and removed his sunglasses. Millie really wished that he hadn't! She stared into the most mercurial set of grey eyes she had ever seen in her life and she felt that flutter in her stomach intensify as her pulse jumped. Oh man! Why'd he have to go and do that? Now Millie almost felt obliged to open her window. He was still smiling.

Her fingers brushed against her keys and she clutched them in her fist as she straightened in her seat. Holding them tightly beside her knee she gingerly reached over and began to wind down the window. The man waited patiently. When the window was all the way down, Millie reached out and carefully took her bag from the stranger. He didn't make a move towards her, simply handed the bag over, for which Millie was grateful. She was still wary about this guy.

"I'm afraid that quite a bit of stuff fell out when it hit the ground." The man told Millie as she began to rummage through her purse. "I think I managed to gather it all up, but your cell phone took quite a hit. I'd be surprised if it still works." His low voice told her calmly as she found the cell and pulled its mangled carcass from the wreckage of her handbag. The keypad and screen were busted, the battery was missing along with the back cover and there was quite a big gouge mark across the top where the little areal used to be. Even if it did still have the battery it would have been useless to Millie.

Millie could have cried. "That's just great! Now what am I going to do?" She moaned in frustration; it was a rhetorical question.

The man reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone. "You can use mine to call someone if you like?" He offered her the phone with a half smile. Millie looked at the phone and then dubiously up at the stranger, who was going out of his way to be nice to her.

"Thanks but I can't remember the numbers. That's what my cell phone's contact list is for!" Millie said. Then realising that she was sounding a little snarky, she apologised. "Sorry, having kind of a bad day."

"I noticed." The good looking older guy told her in his deep voice. He sounded sincere in his sympathy but his eyes had an intense quality about them that made her think he was examining everything about her.

"Ah, thank you, for ... ah, returning my handbag, I appreciate it." Millie said aware of his stare. It made her feel slightly self conscious and she patted at her long dark hair nervously, brushing a stray strand back from her brow. "I must look a fright." She said, and a light blush crept over her cheeks.

"You look fine to me." He said and Millie noted a very faint inflection on the word 'fine'. Perhaps she was imagining things because of her current state of mind but she was always fairly astute when it came to men putting the moves on her. Millie felt her insides shiver at the sound of his voice. It was so deep and vibrant; the timbre effortlessly dancing along her spine so her skin tingled all over. And he was gorgeous in an 'older' type of way; like ex-male-model that had held his age well, and kept his body fit! Hell it wouldn't surprise her if he was an ex-model; he dressed like one.

She threw her cell angrily back into her purse and tossed the bag into its usual spot on the passengers' seat. She released the seat belt clasp and flung the strap back over her shoulder. The clasp hit the metal of the door frame and bounced back to hit Millie in the ear. "Ow! Goddamn!" Millie yelled as she lent away from the blow holding her ear.

"Are you okay?" Mr Good-Looking-Older-Stranger asked solicitously as he reached forward and tried to open her car door. When he found it locked he reached further in and pulled up the latch without asking, and Millie didn't have the wherewithal to make an issue of it. Swinging the door wide, he half squatted in the opening, looking in at Millie. His tall frame hunkered down comfortably like he'd done it a million times. Millie was certain he was an ex model, because he certainly knew all the angles that complemented his face and form!

"I'm fine." Millie grumbled, embarrassed more than anything. Her ear throbbed and it was probably red, but so was her face.

"Why don't you let me take a look? It looked like it caught you pretty good." He said raising an arm towards her face.

Millie leaned further away. "No, I'm fine." She said perhaps a little too quickly.

The older guy made a placating gesture with his hands and stood up, stepping back from her door. Millie sighed. He really was just trying to be nice. She knew that now. Surely if he was going to try something he would have done it as soon as her window was open. He wouldn't be asking if her ear was all right if he were planning on doing something nasty to her. The errant thought, I could think of a few nasty things I'd like him to do to me, flicked through her mind unbidden, and she felt her blush deepen.

"Perhaps I could call your RSA insurer, via directory assistance for you?" Mr Good-Looking asked.

Millie felt herself flush even worse. "Ah... I don't have one."

"Oh." Was his only reply; then, "What about your home number? Surely you can remember that?"

"The only home number I remember is my parents', and they live eight hundred miles away. I'd be waiting a while." Millie replied sounding a little annoyed even though he was only trying to help.