“So we trick them into admitting things?” I had to say something.
“Not so much trick them, we make them open to suggestive responses. Then the cutting room can do the rest.” Storm had swallowed the concept; that was clear here.
“Peter has been a dream; he has given us some wonderful sentences to work with.” Kirsten swooned.
“Peter is problematic.” Here was our resident well-being coordinator. “He is also in a very vulnerable position.” The relief of someone else speaking up against this madness made me release a drawn-out gasp. “Heis clearly still grieving his wife, and I have concerns about pushing him into a place where he’s…”
“Oh, get over it. He’s a grown man and clearly besotted with Oliver,” Kirsten snapped.
“It’s been one day!” I shouted out, making everyone stare at me. “It’s been one day. Are we all living in cloud coo-coo land here or what?”
“I suggest you control your tone.” I was starting to dread this. All of this.
“It’s madness,” I said sternly, letting my hands fall onto the table.
“Then you know where the door is, George,” Kirsten said firmly, tapping her laptop. Her nails were a mess. Where she would usually be perfectly manicured, they were worn down and uneven. She was feeling the pressure here, and we all knew it. Not that she was letting it show, once again getting her virtual fangs right into my neck.
“Everyone here has a job, George, a job that ten other people are ready to jump into by tomorrow. So don’t get too comfortable unless you are fully committed to this project.”
“Fully committed,” I lied.
“Ismail has handed in his resignation. George, as of today you’re the floor manager.”
You would have thought someone would have gasped. Questioned what was coming out of her mouth. But then she was Kirsten and we all knew the drill.
“Got it,” I responded. Like this was absolutely normal and very much fine.
And then I swallowed the bile in my throat. Because this? I wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
Perhaps if I had been a stronger person, someone with more experience? A few more life skills under my belt and more than anything, a backbone or two? Then maybe I wouldn’t feel so rattled. It wasn’t just the ever-presentthreat of dismissal from this job. It was the constant undertone of not being good enough. That I was just a stone’s throw away from slipping. That whatever I produced would be waved off as insignificant and wrong.
My self-confidence had always been non-existent, and I still couldn’t believe they had actually offered me a job here in the first place. Now I was apparently doing two people’s jobs because nowhere in that sentence had my other commitments been redistributed to anyone else.
I could cope. I would. And anyway, who was I supposed to voice any concerns to? It wasn’t like we had a functioning HR department that would take notes of any grievances. I knew better than to even consider opening my mouth.
Get on with it.I had the accompanying email sat in my inbox, with my schedule having been extended further and my working hours far exceeding my sleeping ones.
I needed to sleep. Just a few hours so I could think more clearly.
Sleep. Which wouldn’t be happening because once again, his car was parked neatly outside my entrance, further disturbing all those butterflies in my stomach.
Yesterday he’d left me in the morning, with a lazy kiss on my forehead before he’d just disappeared. I’d known how I would spiral so had kept my phone mostly out of sight. I’d almost deletedFind My Friendsin a terrorising frenzy of fear, but seeing another stupid meme pop up on our feed had made me pause for thought.
It hadn’t helped. I’d wanted this. Just like this evening, and from now on, every time I got home, whatever time it was, I wanted this. To see that car. Hear the click of his car door as I stood by the entrance, my hands shaking as I tried to get the key in the old rusty lock.
His arms gently folding around my waist. His front against my back. Hot breath on my neck as he cradled me and pressed his lips to my neck.
He was everything I wanted. Nothing that I needed.
The silence was comforting as we ascended the stairs. His hand still resting on my spine as he followed me through the door. Then I was spun around and pressed up against the wall, his grip on my arse lifting me up until I was practically trying to climb him.
His mouth was on mine. Constantly. My breathing far too loud and ragged as he just took from me what he wanted. I let him. Because I wanted it. I wanted him. And again, I lost all self-preservation in everything that this was. His hands seemingly everywhere, trying to remove my clothing in jerky movements. My blazer being tugged down my arms. My shirt button flying as he ripped at it. My tie? Still loose around my neck as his mouth kissed around it. Down my collarbone. My skin prickled as sweat covered my forehead.
Then he fell to his knees, completely rocking me out of the small zone of safety he’d built for me. Now I was flailing in the cool air, with nothing to hold on to, my face wet from his kisses and my shirt open, exposing far too much of my pale skin.
His fingers were fumbling with my belt, the swish of leather against fabric making the hairs at the back of my neck stand up.
His face was nuzzled in my groin, where I once again was giving all my secrets away.
