Tag Archives: Flirting

Just for One Night; Preview

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I’m currently finishing a little story I’ve been working on for ages now. It’s always been pushed back by other projects (Just Another Day at the Office, mainly) taking precedence. Hopefully this little preview and the cover, which I have slightly tweaked since sharing on Facebook earlier will get you excited to read the end product!

As soon as I’ve found my seat of choice in the dimly lit establishment, I notice him. Sitting on a bar stool nursing a full pint while his two friends stand around waiting for their refills. They clearly arrived as a group, but while I observe them it quickly becomes clear that they are not planning to just sit at the bar together.

He’s sporting a typical metal-head ponytail,  longer than my own hair and it really suits him. Too many guys can’t get past their old faithful long hair style, even when their mane starts to thin. His hair is thick and full though and the first thing I noticed. I have always had a thing for men with long hair.

Chance brought me here tonight to the aptly named “Old Oak”. Only a short walk from my hotel, its traditional wood panelled décor looks like the perfect environment to escape to.

It’s the sort of place which you can imagine to have been here forever. Probably has done for hundreds of years, largely looking the same but seeing its growing ever brighter and shinier. I had planned to just sit here, have a couple of drinks and watch the normal goings-on unfold around me. But my initial plan of staying largely out of sight is starting to look like a bad idea.

From my corner by the window, in between sips of Baileys on ice, I keep eyeing him. Black jeans paired with sturdy biker boots and an untucked black shirt covering his broad frame on top. He looks like an imposing figure even hunched over as he is at the bar. Like a giant.

I wish he’d turn around. I wish I had bought my drink from this bar counter rather than the other one, at least I could have had a better look at him before finding this seat.

Like a reluctant predator, I’m just sitting here and staring at him from behind. If I hadn’t chosen to sit in such a discrete location, it might have been the other way around.

My phone distracts, a message from Akhil, asking about the meeting and if we can talk. It can wait. I came here to forget about the irritating client with the project I couldn’t refuse, not to talk about it. Stuffing the phone back into my handbag, I resume my earlier observations.

His friends are long gone by now, leaving an empty stool beside him and my glass is getting empty quickly. Shall I? It feels so reassuring being unnoticed that I’m very reluctant to get up. I guess I’m just a coward when it comes down to making the first move and my dark corner feels so safe.

He takes a big last sip from his glass and I panic. What if he’s going to call it a night? If he leaves now I’ll forever wonder what could’ve been!

Before I know it my feet carry me towards the bar, while I half mindedly smooth down my businesslike grey skirt and vest combo. Despite the buzz of the drunken conversations that fills the space, the clicking of my heels on the wooden floorboards is almost as deafening as my heart pounding in my chest.

He turns towards me as soon as I reach and I’m frozen in place. Concentrating on continuing to breathe, I tuck my black wavy hair behind my ear and glance in his direction.

I take in his strong Nordic features, his full lips and steely blue eyes that stand in stark contrast against the dark brown of his hair and short beard. All I can manage is a shy smile before hurriedly looking away.

My instincts served me well, if I had stayed in my seat, I would’ve regretted it. I feel tiny standing next to him, which causes me to feel an even stronger attraction. And his eyes on me, I can almost feel them stabbing and probing.

His hands are huge as well, manly. I wonder how he’d touch me, if those hands could be gentle or if they only know how to be rough. There’s no sign of a wedding ring; what a relief.

It has been decided, I want him at any cost.

“What can I get you, darling?” The bartender interrupts my thoughts.

The Sales Guy

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As soon as I opened the door, I knew that divine intervention had caused me to agree to our meeting. Utter perfection, my age or slightly under.

His green eyes stood out in his boyishly handsome face, complementing his medium brown hair. He kept a beard that was hardly more than a stubble, but it suited him so well that the effect could only have been intentional.

I stretched out my hand, waiting for his.

“Hi, I’m ***, thanks for coming by.” I think I managed a friendly, non-lecherous smile.

“Hi,” His hand held on to mine just long enough to make my heart skip a few beats.

My attention turned to his broad chest, perfectly filling out his grey suit as though he was the only one ever meant to wear it. Although a tie would have sharpened up his look, I was grateful for the slightest glimpse of what remained hidden beyond the unbuttoned collar of his shirt.

I wondered if it was mainly the mystery that was getting to me. Although I can most definitely appreciate a gorgeous man, the vast flow of shirtless models on my Facebook feed never affects me quite in this manner. Even if most are undeniably handsome, I tend to blame it on them not really being my type.

Technically speaking, neither was this guy. And yet I found myself giddy like a schoolgirl on the inside, while pretending to be the capable professional.

The meeting room was unavailable, so we had to make do with the occasional seating near the kitchenette. He took a seat while I scurried off nervously to find a business card to give to him.

To be honest, I needed the moment to compose myself anyway.

Upon my return, he handed me his card from his leather conference folder. I knew I had to make an effort to listen to his sales patter, just in case he’d ask a question at the end of it. But I found myself yet again distracted, this time by his hands and his slender, perfectly manicured fingers.

His skin was flawless, but around his wrist I could see the beginning of a very impressive looking tattoo sleeve. I wondered how far up his arm and muscular shoulder the ink went. Whether the bad boy side of him would come out to play in a more intimate setting where the constraints of professionalism would no longer exist.

My short dress rode up nearly to the top of my thigh when I adjusted myself and crossed my legs. His eyes darted downwards just for a moment, making me quite pleased with my choice of outfit for the day.

He asked me about our industry and where in our business we might require his freight services and I tried my best to appear professional. Aiming to answer sensibly while the rational part of my brain was on autopilot.

But I’m a bad liar. And so was he.

While he spoke, I was mesmerised and involuntarily biting my bottom lip. I kept looking into his eyes which seemed to sparkle while he lost his train of thought and fumbled over his words. He caught himself and kept speaking, in response I continued to feign interest.

With a bunch of colleagues just around the corner, and two cleaners furiously working away around us, our meeting did not last very long.

I had nothing much to offer him in terms of business potential, but it was by no means a waste of time.

“If you ever need anything, just call me. I’m based nearby.” He took my hand once more, squeezing it slightly.

“I prefer to do business face-to-face rather than just on the phone.”

“Completely agree,” I responded while lingering on his amazingly deep eyes.

“It was lovely meeting you.” He smiled in a way that suggested he wasn’t just being polite.

My knees noticeably weakened, I returned a similarly revealing smile before seeing him out.

While I walked back towards my desk, I couldn’t disguise what had just happened. My ever-attentive colleague saw it all written on my face, prompting her to charge for the window in order to catch a glimpse.

When she returned, she gave me a nasty look.

“Next time, at least let me bring tea or coffee, al right!” She scolded.

I didn’t respond, just sat and stared at my screen.

“Say, can’t we start shipping more stuff…” I said, absent-mindedly, fidgeting with his business card.

The boss looked up, with a confused frown on her face.

“I want him to come visit again…” I continued.

While both of them chuckled, I couldn’t help but wonder if he’s on LinkedIn…

Ladies’ Day – a little taster.

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Update 2019: This short story has been unpublished some years ago, but it does form the basis of my novella, Beautiful Stranger, so I’m leaving this taster up, because in some form or other, it’s still relevant.

Why not get a little taste of it from the short except below:

“Excuse me, where’s your bathroom?” His call is coming from the back door.

“Oh please come in, it’s just over there…” I point at the door leading off the hallway.

Still the contrast between us is startling to me, he looks like everything I am not in his formals which probably cost more than my car is worth. At the same time I – at 25 – still dress like I did as a teenager, faded jeans and inappropriately tight t-shirts. The only “fancy” clothes I own are worn exclusively to job interviews and then too they’re Primark or at a stretch Next. You could mistake me for a simple idealist, not moved by worldly possessions, when in fact I am just a bit stingy and lazy.

But strangely, he looks at home, walking over the terracotta tiles and towards the door I’ve just shown him. Taking in the decor, glancing at the eclectic mix of paintings and photographs on my walls on his way. Like he is meant to be here, in my house. I try and shake off that thought. He’s just some stranger and I’m an idiot for doing this.

The ping of the oven timer brings me back to reality and I pile all the food, plates and cutlery high onto a tray, and head back out. After I’ve arranged everything on the wooden table and make another trip for the cushions, a water jug and the aforementioned cheap wine, he comes back out as well.

“Oh you didn’t need to…” He says, smiling at me. Looking at him now, more relaxed and at ease, I feel like I’m getting a hint of his usual demeanor. Charismatic is probably the best word for it. Like he should be a politician, but still strangely genuine and trustworthy.

“I sort of did, I’m starving,” I respond, “and Dominos doesn’t deliver here.”

He lets out a laugh while sitting down on the bench beside me. Thankfully it’s large and sturdy, quite over spec for my usual needs as a single woman.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like,” I point at the food, wine and water, “unless you want coffee or tea, I can do that too.”

“Yeah, I don’t tend to drink much, is it that obvious?” He smiles again. My heart is pounding in my chest; I can’t get over how handsome he is, by body language perhaps even more so than simply looks.

“Well, whatever you need, just ask.” My eyes are drawn towards his, in this light they seem more turquoise than blue. He holds my gaze just a little longer than strictly necessary before picking up the wine and corkscrew.

“I suppose one glass won’t hurt. I promise I don’t feel ill anymore.” He doesn’t look it either, must be the fresh air.

“Don’t be so sure, you haven’t tried it yet. It’s probably nowhere near the quality you’re used to.” I say, still mesmerised by his eyes.

He grins at me. “Everything is only as good as the company it’s enjoyed in.”

I feel the corners of my mouth curl up practically by themselves, this is a game I know how to play.

“Well, and what do you know about current company other than that I was overly keen to get my hands on your car keys?”

“Firstly, you took a huge risk trying to help out a complete stranger,” winking at me, he adds, “car keys or no car keys.”

I take the glass of wine he has poured for me.

“Furthermore, I don’t recall the last time anyone has made an effort putting together a meal for me…” His gaze wanders out over the field again.

“Fine, if you say so,” I say, “but for all you know I could be a psychopath, only pretending to be friendly.”

He looks back at me again, the amused glint in his eyes reappearing. “So could I.”

“Cheers,” I say, raising my glass towards him, “to us, pretending to be friendly.”

We both take a sip, stealing little looks at each other in turn.