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She tips her head. “He was okay? Just okay?”
I nod. Giggle. Sip my coffee. “Just okay, yeah. I thought he was the best ever at the time.”
“But not now?”
I think of my monster. The dark soul in his dark eyes. The way he pushes me, pins me, stretches me and makes me love it.
“No. Not now.”
“Intriguing.” She laughs, but I don’t elaborate.
I look at the woman opposite me, her kind eyes and her easy smile. I see a loneliness in her that’s gone from me, floating just under the surface.
“I’m going out to Diva’s on Thursday with the crowd from work,” I tell her. “Vicars and tarts. You could come, if you wanted to check out the Hereford nightlife.”
“I could?”
“You sure could. Just wear your sluttiest – I’m under strict orders. No suspenders, no tequila.”
Her eyes twinkle. “I’ll see what I can cobble together.”
I’m strangely pleased by her acceptance.
“I’ve got plenty of nail varnish,” she says. “Just tell me what colour you’re wearing. I’ll pick some out.”
“Red,” I say, even though I have no idea. “Scarlet harlot.”
“Red,” she repeats. “I’ll bring a shortlist over. Give you a knock.”
“Thanks.” I finish up my coffee and put my mug on the drainer.
And then I head back home for some late-night online shopping.TwentyIt’s not the size of the dog in the fight, it’s the size of the fight in the dog.
Mark TwainPhoenixMy message to Jake was simple.
Stay away from my house. Stay away from my son.
The barrage of abuse I received in response was even more vehement than I anticipated.
I barely gave it any credence whatsoever until his sign-off message on Sunday evening.
I want a fucking paternity test.
He can fucking want.
I’m busy at work on Monday – a shitload of fresh shipments arriving in from Germany. I’ve barely got a spare minute to think, and yet she’s always there, a flashing circle on my GPS software.
It’s easy to take a second to find out where she works – a place called Office Express on the edge of the city centre. I look up their website and find a standard, generic-looking office supplies company. I click on their meet our staff page and find her staring back at me.
Abigail Summers, administration clerk.
It strikes me as odd, that job title. Whichever way I look at it, it feels like a major career back step. I guess that’s what happens when you get as chewed up as she did – you run, fast. Take whatever you can find.
We lost our office manager here after the fire. Just one of many who drifted away when the business was on the ground. Gillian had been good, at the heart of operations, equally positioned between the pair of us – me and Jake. Close to Marianna, too. Her resignation had been just another unfortunate piece of shit in the aftermath. Tears and apologies and a ‘see you around’.
I haven’t replaced her.
I don’t even know why Gillian presents herself in my consciousness. I wouldn’t even consider having Abigail here. Not for a single sensible second. Not for a fraction of one.
Never.
But my cock is throbbing like a motherfucker under my desk. My heart a pounding fucking mess at the thought of chasing her around the warehouse after hours.
My Germany shipment can wait a few more minutes. I click on the Office Express company blog and scroll through, searching for snippets, photos, anything that will give me more insight into my pretty black swan. That’s when I notice their updated events schedule listed loud and clear.
Office Express summer barbecue. Castle Green. In aid of Herefordshire Air Ambulance.
Summer ball theme, dress to impress.
Staff, suppliers, and clients – all welcome.
Clients welcome. My cock twitches.
Interesting.
It’s on the twenty-eighth of the month. A Saturday three-weeks away.
I flick back to their company brochure. Most of our furniture at this new depot is odds and sods from clearance sales – the best I could do under the circumstances at the time.
I need a new filing cabinet and a fresh batch of printer cartridges. That’s what I tell myself when I fill in the online form and click submit.
Order confirmed. A representative will contact you shortly. Thank you for your business.
And just like that I’m an Office Express client.
I check my calendar. The twenty-eighth is clear. I’m sure Serena won’t mind taking over duck pond duties for the day.
I key in the date and smile as my calendar turns to busy.
The circle is still firmly in her office location when I check my phone again. I’m sure she’ll be there, at the barbeque. I’m sure she’ll be dressed to impress amongst her co-workers chowing down on a burger in the sunshine.
I’m sure I’ll be there watching her, too.
I turn my attention back to my shipment logs, busying myself before the last of the trucks arrive back for reloading. I’m finally knuckling down with paperwork when the office door squeals on its hinges and slams against the wall. I’ve barely turned my head when my piece of shit brother comes flying in with his fists in the air. I can smell the drink on him before he’s halfway across the room.
