In the wake of all of that- Levy's working day only honestly started when she left the house. Meaning she'd hardly even begun and she was already exhausted. Her day consisted of an 8 to 3 shift at a customer service call centre, a 5 to 7 shift waitressing and a 10 to 1 shift dancing in a club.

Before the first job she made the kids breakfast and saw them off to school. Between the first and second job, she had to get Happy and do any shopping or errands- maybe eat if time allowed. Between the second and third job she had to go home, see the kids, get them dinner and possibly, sneak to the bar for a couple of much deserved rounds. And after her night time job, well, everybody needs to sleep sometime.

Juvia liked to joke to Levy that the last thing she needed was sleep however. She thought instead, to alleviate some stress, Levy needed to get laid. The idea didn't sound all too bad to Levy, figuring there must be a gigolo working somewhere in this city for a reasonable price range and a pretty face.

Levy laughed at the thought while riding the city bus. Happy was in her lap, playing with her ringlets of rare cerulean hair.

Happy's hair was the lightest blue in the family- closest in colour to Levy's compared to the others, who all had darker hair. Complete strangers had come up to Levy riding the bus or 'The L' commenting on "her son's Beautiful hair". Levy was often reluctant to correct them. She was 22, meaning she was in that sort of age range where a stranger would think she was either Happy's much older sister or his teen mother. And teen mothers were so common in the South side, they often made the mistake of assuming that's what she was.

It would be simple enough to clear up the misunderstanding if Levy wanted transparency on this issue. But she naturally closed herself off, leaving people guessing- she never trusted the guarded sympathy of others. She knew she was viewed as a tragedy or charity case. She couldn't stand that.

But for clarity, Happy's real mother was far away, having run off with their father, Frank. Out of the family, Happy was the only one who hadn't met their father as he hadn't been around for years.

Frank had considered himself an expert in public speaking, but he was known as a 'street preaching drunk'. When he was around, he'd done things you'd more likely find on a prison sentencing than in a parenting book. Levy had been left on a park bench overnight, sent into drug dens to retrieve cash and was used in every scam imaginable involving a lost little girl needing to make a phone call- all before she reached her 10th birthday.

Their mom hadn't been much better, but she was more ditzy than dangerous. Her most questionable morals, seemed to stem in fidelity- or a lack there of. There was a rumour that their mom had a long spanning fling with Frank's brother, who would have been Levy's uncle. Levy was fairly sure however that Frank's brother was in fact her, and Happy's, real biological father. She'd met him once, he'd been short and had impossibly light hair. Her mother's promiscuity and their resemblance had led Levy to reach the silent conclusion that Her and Happy, and the rest of her 'siblings' were in fact half-siblings.

She'd never shared this conclusion aloud, but knowing this, when things had gotten hard, she'd thought about taking Happy away on a train, and just leaving the other three behind. She might have raised Happy like her own son far away from them. Levy hated herself for thinking that, it was her deepest shame. She thought of abandoning the others who needed her as a sister, who deserved to see their baby brother grow up. But she could never hate Happy's smiling face that made her so tempted to try it. Perhaps they would be better off if they left.

Levy dropped Happy off at his preschool building a few blocks away from the bus stop, so she had to walk with him in the stroller down the sidewalk for a little while. She was late for her first job already, but she didn't want to rush while he could see. So instead she walked at a brisk pace and pointed out clouds in the sky. "Look at that one Happy, it's a cat with wings!" She'd say, with enthusiasm, when walking past an alley full of junkies. And because he was looking up at the sky, Happy would remain none the wiser.

Levy was sure Happy's stroller had been used by every single one of them at some point, and when leaving it in the cloakroom of the school, to use later when she came to pick him up, it was painfully obvious next to the other buggies that it was decades old.

But it also had ironic cartoon flames painted on its sides. Jellal had done this when he'd shown up unexpected in mid-August saying Happy needed the "sweetest set of wheels in the place". It had given Levy hope that Jellal would be present and helpful now that he was back. Only Jellal had proved to be a wash out.

Leaving Happy with the Preschool staff Levy waved goodbye as she walked away, but upon reaching the first street corner she started running. She ran until her lungs burned for air. People threw themselves out of her way, as she barrelled down the street. Pedestrians shouted after her, making obscene gestures. She glanced at her watch, she was so late.

When the two of them founded the company, they'd been drunk and making a prank call. It was a funny story, or funny by their standards. It started what felt like a lifetime ago. Back then, Jet and his best friend Droy used to be the kind of guys you'd see at a party and almost want to go over to talk to. But ultimately, you'd decide against it, because they just looked so out of place, and what would you talk to them about anyway?

But that wasn't the case now. No siree! Now they were co-owners of the second largest call centre in the Tristate area, and could expect to retire comfortably and pay off a mortgage virtually debt free. It doesn't sound like much, but financial security was much-admired in the Southside. Maybe, Jet would get a B-rate gold digger in his later life, he pondered.

Back then, the two friends had been bored out their minds, and made a prank call pretending to sell reusable Styrofoam cups to a random dialled number. Turns out, they were a bit too good at persuasion however, because the listener eventually wanted to make the deal. In too deep to just say it had been intended as a joke, Jet and Droy searched up a genuine polymer utensil factory and informed them of the interested party. Before they knew it, they were being sent cash for making the deal on their behalf.

What followed were more similar calls and more similar successes. People left their details in hopes of being contacted again, people contacted them to ask for promotion. The whole thing blew up in proportions, and soon Jet and Droy were on the phone ten hours of the day. Before long, they needed an office and paid staff to man telephones.

Five years later, Jet was sat in his office on a spiny chair desperately bored and reminiscing because the main captivation of his attention had yet to show up for work today. That's right, Jet was pining over one of his own employees, and so was Droy. The two friends had a long withstanding friendship but recently it was suffering due to the fact they've both fallen for the same girl.

"Stop staring at the door," The plump, dark haired man said, sweating himself out of his tight collar suit. "It won't make her show up any sooner."

Jet huffed and turned away from facing the entrance, his ginger spiky hair moving quicker than he did, as if it had a mind of its own. Jet's hands fidgeted as he chanced to say to Droy. "Do you reckon we should call her out on her tardiness yet?"

Jet had thought that, one of these days, he'd keep her behind to say that she'd have to make up for lost time off the clock, with just the two of them in the office. Maybe she'd be so nervous to possibly get fired (not that he ever would) that she'd say something like: "No please, I'd do anything to make up the time."

"Anything?" He'd ask in reply. She'd be wearing a particularly low-cut blouse, bite her lip, shift under his scrutinizing gaze in a tight skirt, sitting her perfect ass against his wood desk.

"Yes, anything at all." And she'd be breathing hard in anticipation, ringlets of her blue hair falling from their place in her updo. And he'd tower over her, because she's just so petite, as he advanced on her perfect body, leaning down to whisper in her ear. "Well, maybe you could-"

"Jet!" Droy shouted again, this time successfully ripping him from his fantasy- just as it was getting good too. "You didn't hear what I said, did you?" Jet just looked sheepish in response.

Rather apathetically, Droy replied, "Man, do me a favour and try it. Just have a go at telling her what to do- she won't take any of your bullshit. And the more she gets put off from you, the more I'll grow on her." Droy concluded smugly.

Jet wore a sour expression and mumbled "More like grow around her, fatso."

Their shared infatuation with their employee had not gone unnoticed by their other staff and had earned her infamy around the office, because of multiple cases of special treatment. However, she remained none the wiser to this and every day she didn't notice her bosses' advances, Jet and Droy's mutual friendship seemed to suffer. All Levy had to do was enter the building to set the two against each other. Which, thirty minutes later than she was supposed to, is exactly what she did.

Levy came out of the elevator looking like a hot mess, having ran several blocks. When she was running, the tag to her skirt had been untucked meaning it billowed in the wind very briefly before she ran into a particularly disgruntled old man, who, in a tangle of limbs and profuse apologies (on Levy's part), ripped the tag away. Levy was now, not only agonising over her dismal punctuality but also the expensive skirt that she could no longer return. Sorting out the retched thing, which had also ridden up in her run, her eyes were down cast, meaning she didn't see her two bosses as they approached. She was brought back to reality when, inadvertently adding insult to injury, one of them said "Hello Levy, nice skirt you're wearing today."

Looking up, Levy saw Droy responding to Jet. "It's the same one as yesterday, and you said the same thing about it yesterday."

"What it shows off her-"

"Jet, Droy," Levy panted, interrupting them with, the slightly over familiar use of their first names. But they had insisted she address them as such. "I am so sorry I'm late, it's just my alarm didn't go off and I had to get my brother to his school." Levy started apologising only to be cut off.

"Not at all Levy, we understand."

"Of course, the work you do here is invaluable, we can warrant you the benefit of the doubt." Levy hit them with one of her most radiant smiles, laying it on thick to get herself off the hook, "Oh you two, I can't thank you enough. I'll get to work right away."

Levy walked past the small plywood cubicles with box desks, towards her own separate room. Levy knew offices were usually reserved for people who'd been promoted, but when she'd asked, she'd surprisingly received. And Levy was grateful that she had her own space with four walls and a ceiling, because it meant she could earn money from her not-so-reputable side job.

Levy, for most of her shift, answered customer calls with her head-piece microphone and sealed a few company deals, logging the records in the spreadsheet database on her computer. She was an efficient worker and made a lot of progress while she was making calls. Only, Levy had a unique feature in her room in the form of a separate phone line, disconnected from all the other phones. She'd set it up herself and it wasn't for selling any kind of product you could touch. Levy froze in relaying her sales pitch to a customer on her headpiece when she heard this other phone ring.

"Sir, I'm going to put you through to another representative." Levy said, doing just that. She ripped her head-piece off and stood subtly going over to her office door and locking it, all while the phone rang. She picked up the phone and whispered into it, in her most sultry voice.

"Hello?"

"Hey baby, why are you whispering?" A man breathed into the other end of the line.

"I don't want him to hear." Levy responded.

"Who?"

"My husband." Levy lied.

"Oh yeah, that's hot." The man praised, chuckling to himself "what would he do if he ever caught you talking to me like this?"

"Spank me. But I'd like it." Levy challenged. The guy on the other end moaned.

"Yeah, I bet you like that. What are you wearing?" He asked greedily.

"A tight leather skirt," Levy said, taking inspiration from reality "It's so tight you'd be able to see my pantie line only- I'm not wearing any." She lied.

He grunted again. "Don't stop."

Levy went over to the window facing into the office and drew the blinds down for privacy, she then moved the phone down, from by her ear, to the zipper on the side of her skirt. She pulled the zip down tantalizingly slow, loosening the fabric. She then started to jump up and down. "Do you hear that?" She asked moving the phone briefly back up to her ear from near her backside.

"Yeah." The guy confirmed.

"what does that sound like to you?" She asked.

"Clapping." The guy responded.

"Well, that's my ass cheeks hitting each other." This made the guy audibly groan.

"Finger yourself." He demanded, making Levy cringe. She made no move to do so, but she moved the phone nearer to her mouth. She then mimicked moans of pleasure, when in reality keeping a straight face- not turned on in the slightest by this demanding dick probably sat in his mom's basement jerking off. She carried on, looking bored towards the clock. She wondered about trivial things while pretending to reach closer and closer to her climax, and by the time she'd decided she was 'finished' and made her final muffled cry, she'd also decided a drink at the bar was definitely in order for tonight.

To Levy's surprise, the asshole on the line hadn't finished yet and was still grunting like a feral pig- usually she got callers who were so lonely and horny she'd so much as sneeze and they'd cum into their hand. She put the speaker close to her throat and sucked on her finger briefly, keeping up the façade she'd been pleasuring herself. She then said a barrage of textbook phrases to push a guy over the edge. "I want you inside me so much right now." She hissed. "It feels so good! I'm going to remember this for days."

"You like that huh?" The guy boasted, as if he'd done anything. "Well cum loud for me then, cum so loud that your husband hears and comes into the room and spanks you."

"You're so much better than my husband." Levy praised.

"Shit, if I ever meet you you're so getting it, ugh." The guy fantasied. "What are you waiting for?" The guy asked impatiently "cum now!"

He clearly doesn't know how a girl's orgasm works, Levy thought. He was impatient when he was the one taking his time! She figured this guy wanted a show stopping cry from her to end on, and she suddenly became very aware that she was at work and walls are only so thick. But Levy was a risk taker, her current life was a testament to that. "Do it now!" The guy demanded aggressively again, And Levy decided not having to talk to this guy any longer was well worth the threat of being disgraced from her upstanding job. "Aaaahh" Levy hissed.

"Louder!" he shouted.

And, against her better judgement, Levy did. "Aaaahh!"

The guy groaned his loudest since the start of their interaction, signalling Levy's work was done. He took a while to compose himself.

"Thanks bitch." he said curtly when he had his breath back.

"Just make your payment out to Guildarts Clive." She said with a practiced calm. The guy started with a complaining tone. "Yeah I know the drill by no-"

"Levy? Levy, are you alright in there?" Jet's worried barrage came from the outside of her door, making her heart jump into her throat.

"Holy shit!" The guy on the phone started. "You weren't joking about having a husband either, fuck this- I'm out." He sufficiently stated before hanging up the call.

As soon as she heard the dead line, Levy threw the receiver down, she stood so fast her chair nearly toppled and she refastened her zip on her now well-worn in skirt. She quickly made her way to the door's lock, unlatching it only to come face to face with Jet who seemed to be in the process of a run up to ram it with his skinny shoulder. It's a good thing Levy opened the door when she did, or else he may have dislocated his shoulder. That gave Levy an idea. As Jet quickly stopped his advance on the door so as not to run right into Levy- he stood very close to her with a worried expression on his face. "Levy, are you alright? We heard you cry out."

"It's my shoulder," Levy expertly lied. "I'd just been bent over the computer non-stop, so I took a beat to stretch it out and, before I know it, I think I've popped it out of place." Soon Jet's clammy hands were all over her shoulders thinking she was injured, a hundred questions escaped his lips.

The pair had earned themselves quite an audience, noisy co-workers eyeballing the scene, due to Levy's outward cry, but Her boss's fussing wasn't helping Levy dissipate the situation. She heard Jet say: "We have to get you to the hospital."

"No!" Levy stated far too quickly to not arouse suspicion. She quickly explained herself, "I really can't afford to stop at a clinic right now and I need the hours at work, honestly I'll be alright- I think it's only minor."

Despite her excuses, Jet was far from reassured though it seemed. "I'll pay for it then, we have to get it seen to." That all sounded terrible. Levy could not owe this guy a debt and she'd have no way of explaining herself when whatever useless scan or test from the hospital came back saying her shoulder had never been hurt in the first place.

Levy did some rapid-fire analysis of her current situation. Dissuading jet seemed unlikely, he was persistent which, while flattering, had proven to be very problematic. Pursuing another lie would be too suspicious, she'd have to stick to her guns. All that remained would be finding a solution to a dislocated shoulder that didn't involve a trip to hospital.

"We can take my car." Jet offered, successfully consolidating Levy's decision. She had to stop this before it escalated any further.

Without warning, with an almighty smack, that would've made a masochistic blush, Levy threw her shoulder against the door frame. Biting down on a cry of pain, she cradled her arm and began rolling the socket. "There." She managed, through gritted teeth. "Popped it back in place without a hitch, no need for a hospital trip." She assured. This time Jet seemed too frightened to disagree with her. Levy's co-workers shrank back into their booths, muttering about 'that boss-ass bitch who just smacked her arm back into place to avoid time in the emergency room'.

Levy apologised to Jet for causing a ruckus and informed him she was going to get back to work, and Jet just about got out enough of an audible response to not appear comatose.

Levy's office door shut, and Jet ambled back to his office where a disapproving Droy was standing. Jet still trying to process what had happened only just heard his partner's voice say: "Man, I know you haven't been laid in a while, but I didn't think you'd forgotten what a girl cumming sounded like."

Jet shot him a confused look. "Cumming?"

"Yeah, that" Droy confirmed, pointing towards Levy's room "was not a scream of pain. It was the other thing."

Droy explained himself no further, returning to his desk, his trousers uncomfortably tight with this knowledge. His remark also fuelled Jet's snowballing imagination. Luckily, Levy did not receive any more 'personal calls' at work that day.