His laugh startles me as does the action of him throwing my robe in my direction. I really, really need him gone, out of my bedroom, out of my flat and consigned to the large chapter of my life entitled,The Many Mistakes I’ve Made.
“Forget the shower, but the coffee would be appreciated. I have a long and dull day ahead.” He smiles and a little warmth infiltrates his voice as he reaches for his own clothes that lie scattered around my room, well some of them do.
Looking down at the gathered clothing in his hands he heads towards the lounge and kitchen to find his missing items. I have enough time to put my robe on and fasten it before rushing through to the kitchen where I find him dressing.
The kettle seems to take an eternity to boil, but once I hand him a steaming mug we stare at each other for a while, him drinking his coffee and me hoping that I can avoid vomiting in front of him before I finally attempt to excuse myself.
“I need to get ready for work,” I explain.
An understanding nod is his response as the coffee cup is placed on the kitchen counter before he moves closer, allowing me a final smell of his divine aroma.
“You have a nice place here. But as I said, a long and busy day awaits, so I’ll be off. Last night was fun,” he tells me then heads for the door leaving me wondering if this is the norm when you bring a stranger home with you.
“I didn’t get your name,” I blurt out and realise how slutty that makes me sound and feel, slutty and ashamed, both things I have rarely felt in the last seven years, but sadly both feelings I am more than familiar with courtesy of my damaged formative years.
“Nor I yours, so let’s not spoil it. One night or forever, it was still fun, bye.”
Then he is gone, and I have no way of knowing how I feel about the last twelve hours of my life beyond sad, I think. Unfortunately, I have no time to deliberate further as I must get ready for work and am already late. Rushing towards the bathroom I feel that my most delicate and intimate folds are sore and tingling, but in a good way and again I wonder what the hell got into me beyond my overnight guest.
Chapter 2
Olivia
The journey into work is a nightmare, more of a nightmare than usual; the train is packed, beyond packed, although I probably need to accept some responsibility for being on the late train, the one that gets me to work on time, just, but I usually avoid taking it because it means I can’t experience any further delays without being late and as I previously noted, it’s crowded.
I am standing, along with many other commuters and I have managed to find myself wedged between an occupied seat and a slightly overweight man who is standing close, too close, closer than I believe he needs to be. I can feel his belly pressed against my back, his breath on my neck and worse still a fledgling erection that I am sure he is rubbing against my behind. I want to get off the train, be sick or cry, maybe all three, so I turn slightly to try and compose myself, to centre and refocus on something not involving the violation I currently feel. As I turn my head, I get a whiff of my dry humper’s breath causing my stomach to churn, so much so that the acidic taste in the back of my throat indicates that vomit isn’t far behind.
“Would you like a seat? I’m getting off at the next station,” the man sitting in front of me says as he prepares to stand.
“Thanks.” I sigh with a grateful smile and am unsure if I allow him to fully get to his feet before I am sliding into his space where I feel more settled, safer.
I avoid looking at the man who was getting off on our close proximity, focusing instead on the other commuters around me. Some are reading or working on computers, others are talking on phones and a couple of women are putting on make-up. Me? I’m just wishing the minutes away until the train is pulling into my station.
I disembark quickly and with my feet safely enclosed in trainers I begin a swift walk come jog until I reach the foyer of the office building where I work. Kicking my trainers off in a corner I dig through my rucksack for my heels that today are teal and perfectly match the button through blouse I’m wearing whilst my black pencil skirt that finishes just above my knees provides the ideal contrast.
There’s an odd sensation washing over me, as if I am being watched, scrutinised, but as I look around the only person I see glancing in my direction is the security guy on duty, my favourite, Sid. He’s about fifty and very sweet, like a favourite uncle.
“Morning, young lady, you’re cutting it fine,” he tells me with a smile and a wink.
“I know, I know,” I reply, already dashing towards the lift doors that have just closed. “Finer still now,” I add with a smile for Sid.
The next lift arrives and is empty. As I get in, I take the opportunity to give my appearance the once over. My near black hair has been very cooperative this morning and is up in a perfect messy bun. I don’t wear much make-up for work, well at all really, but due to the bags under my eyes I have used a foundation rather than my usual tinted moisturiser and highlighted my cheeks with a pink blusher that goes someway to mask just how pale I am, ridiculously so. In fact, I sometimes think I’m almost transparent, especially in the summer when I can burn from looking out of the window without sunscreen. My eyes look jaded and so they should with my lack of sleep, excess alcohol and equally excessive shagging. I have highlighted my lids with a golden coloured powder then added a touch of brown eyeliner and some dark brown mascara, the overall effect lifting the shadows and drawing attention to my actual eyes that are technically hazel, however they are more green than anything else and my look is completed with clear lip gloss.
I roll my canvas jacket up and push it into my rucksack with my trainers and wonder what I must look like to other people in my business dress and trainers and then my business dress and shoes with a great bloody rucksack on my back. I regret that it wasn’t on my back this morning preventing the creepy guy on the train from being able to get quite so close.
I take a deep breath as I step off the lift and head through the double glass doors of Peterson Michaels which is where I work. They’re a company of interior designers and whilst that is what I’m trained for I took the job here on reception because I needed the cash, but also because Mr Peterson assured me there would be opportunities for me to work in interior design. However, eighteen months later I am a permanent fixture on reception and design jobs total zero, although I have done a few jobs on the side, mainly for friends of friends, but it’s not the same as doing it as a real job.
I throw my bag under the reception desk and then head to the coffee machine. At least the coffee is complimentary, and this will be my first cup as my companion this morning made me so uncomfortable that I could barely breathe never mind drink coffee.
Returning to my desk I’m beginning to chicken out of the decision I made in the shower this morning where I go charging into Mr Peterson to demand that he keeps his word and allows me to build some design experience when the phone rings.
“Hello, Peterson Michaels, how may I help you?” I take my seat.
Sean, a real interior designer saunters in and waves at me with a big smile on his face. Sean is pretty gorgeous, tall, blonde and bronzed but a little too perfect for me, not quite rugged enough. Not that any of that stopped me dating him briefly, very briefly, about half a dozen dates over a couple of weeks when Brad and I were having some space, but when I didn’t shag him in that time he realised I wasn’t the girl for him and that was fine. We’re just friendly colleagues really.
The woman ranting in my ear is pissing me off in my semi hungover state as she tells me that the design work done on the sunroom in her five-million-pound mansion is a disgrace. Apparently, when her design remit was described by her asgive me sunshineshe hadn’t meant literally. Unfortunately, she hadn’t told Cathy, the designer who used lots of yellows and oranges.
I am struggling to stifle a giggle until she says, “You see dear, I expected a sedate room that made me warm and relaxed, as the sun does, not to feel as though I have entered the ninth circle of hell.”
