I waited patiently as Tony's new conquest curiously fumbled the controls on the wall. As much as I want to prolong my agony for the inevitable speech I have to deliver every time Tony got home with one of them, I just don't have the time for her 'curiosity'. So I need to get rid of her as fast as possible. My jerk of a boss needs to get into his plane and I still have things to tend to before I hustle him out of here. Jarvis as always came to my rescue.
"You are not authorized to access this area," he said as the bitch got what her snooping around deserves. Now that's my cue to have the grand entrance. Oh God. Why do I have to do this?
"That's Jarvis. He runs the house," I said casually. And now my ever so present speech is about to blow your mind. "I've got your clothes here. They've been dry cleaned and pressed. There's a car waiting for you outside to take you anywhere you want to go." There I have said it. I hope I did not sound like a broken record on repeat. Well, ofcourse, I don't care how I sounded. I just need to get this over and done with. I can't even remember how many times I had to do this particular task, well it's probably more than enough that I have already come up with a speech like some sales or customer service rep, "Thank You for coming. Have a nice day!" I swear there are times I'm so tempted to say that.
"You must be the famous Pepper Potts." Whatever, bitch. She seems to be on defensive mode, wanting to get back on me. I'm sure she got the hint that I do this all the time.
"Indeed, I am." I really don't have time for this. One of these days, I'm really going to tell Tony to go to hell and bring his bitches with him, with their clothes,far,far away from me. I'm so tired of going to the dry cleaners and having to start my day with that malicious smile the guy at the counter always gives me. Ugh. The horror.
"After all these years, Tony still get you to pick up the dry cleaning." There, she said it. Yes! I pick up the dry cleaned clothes! So what! This slut has the nerve to talk to me like this. Well, as much as I want to give her a piece of me, again, I don't have the time for some petty cat fights.
So, I, being the famous Pepper Potts as she puts it, have to live up with my reputation. So as always, I go with subtle sarcasm, if there ever is such a thing. And also, If she ever has the brain to comprehend. Ehem.
"I do anything and everything Mr. Stark requires including occasionally taking out the trash. Would that be all?" I said with all the calmness the world has to offer. I even smiled that signature smile of mine. I know I ticked a nerve when I saw how her smug smile disappeared and the redness evident on her face. This bitch is really getting on my way and on my nerves. But I should probably say that I am really not this mean. I'm, actually, usually sympathetic towards the female populace who fell for Tony Stark's charm.
Afterall, I'm one of them. Yes People! I have an exclusive membership for the Tony-fucking-Stark-notches-on-bedpost club. I am the living and walking proof that Tony Fucking Stark just Fucks around.
I am not in any way bitter over this fact. And I don't really swear, in fact I just swear out loud when there's too much fuck around that all I could think of is to swear. And now I could feel me shouting mentally. But you're not hearing it, so yeah. Anyway back to being a notch, yes believe me,I am not bitter. I swear. He just fucks around. He never bothered to ask for your name, or try to know who you are or for fuck sake remember your face. No! He just gets off, and then you're done. Thanks for the night sister!
Again, I am not embittered, I am just merely stating facts. As soon as the slut (yes, I am entitled to calling them whatever I want) was out of my hair, I marched on my next target to dispose. The one and the only, the worst and best boss I ever had. Well, you could probably interchange the word 'boss' with 'fuck', or 'lover' if you're feeling romantic. But hell, why am I even thinking about it. As much as I don't want my fogged up brain to admit, and how much I want to wipe out that memory, It's been 4 years since I was the trash I have to dispose of. Well, except for the fact that we were in Vegas, with some strong liquor on the side, and a hotel room with no Pepper Potts to dispose me. It's funny whenever I thought of how I started this 'tedious task' of getting rid of his flavor of the night with no other than MYSELF. Yey. Way to go Pepper, you're the pioneer of all-the-females-escorted-by-PepperPotts-out-of-Tony-Stark-bed club. Great.
I really need to get out of this clubs. Soon.
But how can I do it? When I also happened to have a living, kicking, walking, crying, loving reminder of him and that night. Yes. You're probably guessing something the goes along with one-night-stand-then-boom-pregnant kind of plot. It's kind of the typical cliche story you would read on Mills & Boon or whatever erotic novel that started off with sex and falling in love and all that crap. But I guess, yes, my life is a freaking Harlequin story minus the happy ending part where the billionaire playboy (yes, the guys usually are the richest kind of rich and should be a playboy too) fell in love with the poor, hopeless girl and then they live happily ever after sucking each other's face. Yeah. Kind of romantic huh.
Before I get carried away, Yes, I do have a son with Tony Fucking Stark.
And he does not know. He does not need to know. He never will know. Ever. Period. That's it. That's the end of my story. Kind of a 6 pager thing that started off with great sex, sneaking out and getting pregnant. And now, how unique my life could have been when I decided that it's a good decision to work for my one night stand guy who, I repeat, does not remember me or any part of the best night of my sex life(which happens to be non-existent as of the moment) and who's also the biggest pain in the ass. My baby daddy. Wink. Wink.
Who also happens to be boyishly handsome. And smart. And funny. And great in bed. Wink. Wink.
Oh God. I need to stop. I really need to get back to reality. As if on cue, my goddamn phone rings, which is a very good reminder of my position in Tony Fucking Stark's life, and a very constant part of my everyday life.
"Potts." I answered knowing that the guy on the other line is one pissed off Colonel Rhodes.
"Pepper, tell that jerk to get his butt on this plane this instant or I will personally drag his sorry ass here!" He rambled, I guess 2 hours and a half of waiting, he has all the right to get wind up.
"I know, Jim. I will try again right now." I said on that tone that I more than agree to all his plans of doing to Tony.
"I really don't know how you put up with him." Well, I am not really sure James. Except for the fact that literally, I can't physically separate myself from him. Well, ofcourse I can't tell him that. So I went with some professional reply.
"I'm just incredibly broke. I need his money." I deadpanned. This time I got a chuckle from him. Rhodey is the only person who knows how I manage Tony. He so knows that I won't hesitate grabbing him by the ears if it means business.
"I hope you're broke for so long." Now, he's doing it again. I don't know why everytime we talked about Tony, he has the urge to tell me in every way possible that Tony needs me, and I can't for the love of all that is holy leave him anytime. Well, I also have to mention the fact that Colonel Rhodes happened to believe that me and Tony are meant to be. Yeah. He's the only believer of that notion (If I won't count myself in but that's not the point). Anyway, he also does not know that my cute, little boy is Tony's.
Yes. The famous Pepper Potts has a secret. The ever consummate professional Potts is once a dirty little girl who slept with her boss' boss' boss. I was an accountant in Stark Industries when I happened to get banged by Tony Stark. So technically, I banged my boss. I got banged by my boss. And my banging boss does not remember banging his banged assistant.
So there, I'm pretty banged up huh.
I need to get to work and finish early. Cause just like every other human being, I have to celebrate. It's actually my birthday today. The very same day I made the biggest mistake on sleeping with the famous Tony Stark. But don't get me wrong, I have a wonderful kid because of that mistake. But still, I always dreamed of having my son under different circumstances. I don't need to elaborate further what those curcumstances are but you could probably get the hint.
Stopping idiotic thoughts now. Working Potts On.
I need to make Tony come (well, now you're talking. You dirty little girl) out of his workshop and get in the plane to Afghanistan. He can't screw this up. Not this one. He already screwed enough including myself. Oh God. What's wrong with me. I'm already starting to sound like him. Like some pervert always coming up with some sexual innuendos. I badly need to stop hanging out with him or whatever.
Good luck to me.