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Created by Diane Brown, Buena Beach is an online soap opera, giving up all the juicy details of some of the hottest guys and gals of Buena Beach, a small town in Southern California. Check back everyday for a new episode here on HelloBeautiful.com

Check the ‘In’ Box

Chris

“Boo!”

The jump in my chair probably wasn’t visible to the naked eye, but my heart practically leaped out of my chest. It’s still racing when I turn around to find Jen, arms wrapped around a couple of thick books and a notepad, giggling in front of me.

“You scared the crap out of me.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry,” she says with contrived preschool parlance, then comes in for a kiss. Ducking is my only choice, and I do it without much grace, slamming my upper body into my credenza.

“Oww! Jen, stop. What’re you doing?”

“Come on. No one’s here.” Within seconds, I find her straddled on top of me and my ergonomic chair. Unsuccessful the first time, she comes at me again with her glossy lips, this time holding my face before I get the chance to get out of the way. Stubborn teenagers.

“I know, but I still don’t feel right. Who knows – maybe there’s secret security cameras watching us.”

Now she’s licking my neck. “Chris, please. Like the City could afford that. You guys barely have air conditioning.”

I’m not kissing her back. I won’t even let my hands leave the armrests. We can’t do this. I need this job. I care about Jen and all, but I really need this job, and I can’t risk screwing it up.

Or screwing it up even more, I should say. I’ve already made the mistake of falling for the boss’s daughter – his 17-year-old daughter, who’s just a junior in high school. Being intimate with her right here in the office would just be rubbing it Danny’s face, wouldn’t it?

“Jen…wait. Stop. We can’t – ”

“What?”

Blocking out the fact that a hot, sexy, underage girl is grinding me and practically begging me to take her on, it’s easy to lift her off me and stand. I could just hear my buddies now, laughing and nudging each other, saying what an ass I am. But, I need this job. At least for another six months or so. After that, the café will be in a better position. We’ll have paid off our investors and really started to generate some profit.

“Jen, sweetie. This is fun and all, but really. How long can we keep this up?”

She’s smiling at me like this is all fun and games. Sure it is, for her. She’s the poor, innocent victim in all this, right? Me? I’m the guy. That guy. The schmuck on the 11:00 news, being led away in handcuffs by the authorities, with my colleagues all being interviewed amid the clamor: “You think you know a guy…” and “I never would have let him borrow my stapler if I knew he was a…a child molester.”

“Honestly, Jen. I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

“Why?” she asks me, almost pouting.

“Because it’s not right. Jen, I have plans for my life. I have dreams. I have a business. I don’t want it to mess it all up by screwing around.”

“Oh, so that’s all this is to you? Screwing around?”

“No, no – not at all.” Not just screwing around. But not love, not marriage, not children. That’s what I really need to go along with the rest of this life I’m trying to create. A wife, pretty soon, along with a mortgage and kids and a dog and baseball practices.

“So, this didn’t mean anything to you?” she asks me, rustling around in her purse a bit before fishing out a crumpled photo of the two of us the night we went to the multiplex and watched, in bits in pieces, every movie playing.

“Jen, I didn’t say that-”

“Because, I think my dad might think otherwise.”

What does she mean?

“I think anyone who saw this picture, including my dad, would think the two of us actually care about each other. I know you can’t tell from the picture that we did it three times the night this was taken -”

“Jen…”

“But, I could always leave an anonymous note with all the details since I have a copy of his office keys.”

Unbelievable. How the heck did I set myself up like this? Pops always warned me that cute girls were the epitome of evil and I should stay away from them after my 22nd birthday (Note* – dad was married to my mom, a beauty queen from Rhode Island, for less than a year). I suppose he was right, being that his next five relationships (Note* – each of them lookers) blew up dramatically. He finally settled down with my step-mom, Grisela, who wasn’t, according to Pops – using one of his overworked basketball metaphors – “an NCAA tournament contender, but she might fare alright in the NIT.”

My heart’s racing again, fearful anew. Before my thoughts get a chance to take off to new territory (e.g. developing my angry, violent side, or paying Jen off), she sidles up to me, wrapping her arms around my waist. “Babe, I’m just kidding. I wouldn’t do that. I love you.”

It’s not the first time she’s said it to me. I haven’t uttered the love words back, but out of guilt each time, I’ve done whatever she’s asked me to do next.

“Come on,” she whispers before kissing my chest.

“Where, my place?”

“No, silly. Like I said, I have keys to daddy’s office.”

Oh, heck no. Heck, no. But, why am I still letting her lead me down the corridor towards his office.

“Chris, what are you worried about? It’s 7:15. Dad is at home, probably drinking a beer and wiping down his stupid little motorcycle. Maintenance doesn’t come in until nine, right?”

“Eight. On the dot.”

“Well,” she says, now pulling me by my collar. “We’ll be quicker than usual.”

I’m speechless as I follow her, now willingly, as she drops another article of clothing every few steps, her purple polka-dot panties being the final thing left right in front of Danny’s door. I follow her inside and am just about to close the door behind me(as a small measure of security) when I hear my name being called from someone who is not Jen.

“Oh,…uh. Hi, Diane,” I squeak out, managing to step out and close Danny’s door before she sees my company, sprawled gracefully over Danny’s desk, her bare backside tucked neatly into his In box.

“Hi, Chris. Everything alright?” I catch her taking in the items on the floor.

“Oh, uh, yes. I was just, uh… I was just…”

I was just what? Think of something, Chris. Anything.

“Oh, don’t mind me. I forgot my phone. Normally, I’d just deal with it, but I need a couple of phone numbers, and they’re all saved on my phone, so I came by to pick it up.”

Great. This is it. It’s over. I can just hear her now: “He was always a nice guy. Used to bring us coffee every morning. I guess you never can tell…”

She ducks into her cubicle, grabs her phone, and then waves bye to me before heading out. It’s not until I lift my hand to wave back that I realize I’ve been standing in front of Danny’s door petrified, my hand nearly glued to the door knob just in case Diane tried to take me on linebacker-style to see what’s on the other side.

I’m waiting for her steps to fade before I go back inside to tell Jen to get her ass out of the In box and back into her clothes when Diane returns.

“Oh, and Chris. I don’t know what you’re doing in here or who you’re doing in here, but don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

I don’t give her a ‘thank you’ or an ‘okay’ or a nod or anything to acknowledge that I actually need her discretion.

But, I’m grateful. And I have to end this.

Check back tomorrow for the next episode of Buena Beach!

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For 2024’s iteration of MadameNoire and HelloBeautiful’s annual series Women to Know, we knew we wanted to celebrate the people who help make the joys of film and television possible. To create art is to create magic. This year, we spotlight Hollywood Executive’s changing the face of cinema.