One of the short stories I have recently completed will be released for free at Wattpad in the near future. Kiss and Tell is my sideways send up of Fifty Shades of Grey but with a dose of Tales Of The Unexpected thrown in. Originally titled Office Wager, it’s a short story about sexual tension in the workplace, a redhead femme fatale and a bet that just goes too far.
Kiss and Tell is a little left of field for me, and not the usual thing I write but I’ve had a lot of fun with it and enjoyed writing it. The finished version will appear for free at Wattpad and appear in my archive under “Flash Fiction and Free Stuff” but you can read a sample clip of it here.
Kiss and Tell
“How much do you want to bet that I can’t do this?”
Nick Hagan looked back across the table at Naomie Neary, her words igniting his competitive edge and some other base form of childishness inside him. This girl was as cocky as her low cut top and short skirt suggested. Hagan glanced across at Stephen Powell, the other participant in this conversation who had remained coy and silent for the most part, just sitting there and staring at Neary. Hagan could see his eyes boring into her, her crossed legs at the lunchroom table causing her skirt to lift slightly and probably giving him the horn. Hagan knew what he was thinking.
The three of them had started at Taylor Hart Insurance together, along with a spate of other new recruits that had recently joined the firm. They could be spotted a mile away, young trainees with suits too big for them, bright shiny shoes and new ties. All of them fresh faced and naive. But Naomie Neary was different. Coming through the doors on day one with the swagger of a pretentious movie star and standing almost six feet tall with heels on, perfect legs and auburn red hair reaching down her back, she attracted the attention of just about everyone with her provocative, unapologetic clothing. She was strikingly pretty and she knew it. She oozed attitude, not caring about the female eyes looking her up in down every day with both scorn and jealousy nor the male eyes lusting after her as she breezed along it’s corridors.
Hagan turned his attention back to the matter at hand and folded his arms.
“You really think you can seduce him, do you? Apparently he’s been here since the dawn of man and barely speaks to a soul. Grade one weirdo by all accounts”
“Yes, I do” came the curt and bullish reply. Hagan sniggered and leaned forward across the table. The brash nature of this girl excited him. He was close enough to smell her now, her perfume sweet and trendy. Her long fingers reached out, the bright red nail polish on the end of them as striking as the rest of her. He took her hand gently, shaking on the wager and at that moment Hagan suddenly found himself visualizing that her hand was slipping around his cock instead.
The wager was simple. Seduce Trevor Brown, get him into bed for a hundred quid by the end of the week and provide proof. Trevor Brown, or “Brownie” was the one of the IT technicians who handled first line support queries for staff. When your system froze or started misbehaving it was usually Brown’s monotone voice you would get at the other end of the phone when you called for assistance. He looked and sounded exactly like a Trevor Brown too. Thin, painfully so with pointy shoulders that sat uncomfortably in the cheap looking short sleeved shirt he wore with a dubious looking clip-on tie. Thick glasses and button eyes behind them with greasy looking side partoned hair, he was the quintessential office nerd.
The rumours were he barely talked to anyone outside work, avoided all office get togethers, after-work drinks on a Friday evening and Christmas parties like they were a dose of the shits. He always sat alone at lunch, eating the contents of the same packed lunch box without so much as looking up and when he passed you in the corridors, a stale waft of BO swiftly followed. He seemed to be a subject of ridicule to most within the firm and horribly out of place in an office trying it’s hardest to be all hip and down with the cool people. An office where the senior partners wore suits with open neck shirts.
Hagan pushed his chair out and got up, prompting Powell to do the same. Neary remained in her chair looking back at Hagan with a kind of nonchalant look on her face, her mouth slightly raised at one side. Smug, like the hundred pounds prize money was already in the bag.
“Just remember, Naomie, the deal is off without proof” said Hagan.
“Oh, you’ll get your proof, honey then you’ll be crying all the way to the bank”
Powell sniggered at her flippancy but cut it short when he caught Hagan’s irritated glance.
****End of Sample****