Chapter 1
The phone vibrated, making the keys on my bedside cabinet rattle. Another notification telling me that the funds in my account are insufficient to cover tomorrow’s direct debits. Fuck! The agency I’ve been working for had a lot of work for me, until lately. I had started temping with them when I’d been made redundant from the council. Restructuring to reduce costs had seen over 100 job losses. I hadn’t thought I was going to be in the first cull. But here I am, living week to week, keeping my fingers crossed that the agency will keep finding things for me. It has mostly been pretty good. I’m not in one role long enough to get bored or fall out with anyone, but I rarely go more than a few days here and there without work. No more so than the annual leave I’d have taken through the year. I just have to save all the holiday pay I accrue to keep me solvent. Sadly, I’ve just finished a six month assignment, covering a girl’s maternity leave and just as I was told they were going to extend my post, she decided she wanted to return to work early. So here I am, lay in bed, with an empty diary.
There is a crack in the curtains where I’ve hastily shut them, and the bright sun forcing its way in is blinding me. I screw my eyes shut. I’m not ready to face the world today. I stretch and groan, feeling all my muscles straining and then relax. I don’t often sleep naked, but my favourite pyjamas were still damp from the laundry last night, and I couldn’t be bothered to root through my drawers to find alternatives, so I just climbed between the antique sheets of linen and pretty much passed out. I love the texture of linen on my skin. It’s cold and soft and drapes in a magical way. It also has a texture that tantalises my nipples as it falls across my skin, dragging the delicate fibres across the nerve endings that pull in my groin.
I slip my hands under the covers and massage my breasts. A little bit of self-pleasure won’t pay the bills, but it also won’t leave me any worse off. I spread my legs wide and enjoy the way the cold air wafts over my freshly waxed pussy. Mmmm, slipping a finger into my moist folds and circling my clit sends an electric current through me as if my skin is awake suddenly. Lifting my knees up allows me better access, and tugging a nipple builds the pressure and tilting my hips, arching my back, I’m lost in a world of pleasure. So close to finding my release… A little faster… Tugging a little harder… Rubbing myself frantically…
When the shrill ringtone I’ve allocated to the agency assaults my ears. Aarrgh! Damit! Why now? I swipe and blurt the words out, “Hello! Mel speaking.” I should be grateful that they’re calling, but at this particular moment, I’m furious at the disturbance. “Hi Mel, it’s Anna, from Brooks and Coles. Are you available for an urgent P.A. role? It’s a sick cover, likely at least six weeks, but we need you there this afternoon. Is that feasible?” Carefully processing her words and scanning my bedroom for a quick, appropriate outfit, my response is immediate: “Yes, Anna, I can do that. Can you email me the details and confirm the rate of pay, etc?” Hopefully, this will keep me from crawling to the bank of mother, scrounging another loan that we both know I’ll never be able to repay.
Helpfully, Anna has sent me a link to the client’s website, which conveniently has a ‘how to find us’ button. Google Maps makes quick work of navigation, and my little old Volkswagen doesn’t feel completely out of place in the huge car park. I quickly check my eyeliner hasn’t smudged and apply a last slick of lip balm before marching into the main reception area and announcing my arrival. The girl on the front desk looks relieved. She gives me directions to Paul Mason’s office and a visitor pass. A friendly security guard offers to show me the way as I hurry to the wrong set of doors. He’s friendly, ‘Eric’ tells me he’s worked here for five years and is still figuring out the rabbit warren of offices.
The fourth floor is a stark contrast to the linoleum and plastic veneers of the clean, bright entrance. Carpet muffles footsteps, and the LED lights are adjusted to provide a softer, warmer atmosphere. Eric cheerfully opens the double doors and wishes me well for the day. I hope I see him again, he’s nice and has made me feel really comfortable.
Anita shows me to my desk so that I can put my bag away and grab a notebook and pencil. She leads me to Paul Mason’s office. Shit! The man might be twice my age, but… He’s ruggedly handsome, a silver fox you might call him. His chiselled jaw tenses as he looks at me. I’m not sure how I could have annoyed him this quickly, but I certainly feel like he’s displeased for some reason. He thrusts some handwritten notes at me, “Ask Anita to show you the diary system, please, and update my schedule for the week. I’ll need transport and accommodation booking too, but Anita will be able to answer any questions you have.” Snapping his eyes back to his computer, he silently dismissed me.
Wow! He’s freaking hot, but he knows how to be an arsehole!
