I Hate My Job

By Amarinda Jones

Maud Croker leaned against the back wall of the conference room and blew out a sigh. I swear to god I have heard all this corporate bullshit so many times before. Wayne Nelson had just announced that he was resigning from Cacoffeeny, a company whose slogan was bringing ‘coffee to the chaotic’ and looking forward to moving on to ‘new challenges.’ The interpretation of that was he was being shafted out of the company. Everyone knew that. They were aware Wayne had a knife at his back and was being made to go. While it was true he was about as effective as a chocolate fireguard, the staff liked him because he let them do what they wanted. That was a huge bonus to Maud. She liked to spend her days at work doing anything but work. Besides, if they didn’t want her to use the internet or the printer then they shouldn’t have put those temptations in her place. At least that’s how Maud saw it.
She looked at the new guy as he walked over to take Wayne’s place in addressing the twenty-odd staff who had turned up to the meeting. There would have been two more but for the fact Angelo and Clarissa were off sick today. Maud smiled. Sick my ass. It was a well-known fact they were shagging each other senseless due to the fact Clarissa’s live-in girlfriend Amelie was out of town and Angelo had a dick and Clarissa craved it. She had confided in Maud that a tongue would only get her so far, a fist was too big but Angelo was ‘just right’. Maud had to agree about the tongue. The fist, she wanted to try before condemning it. And as for Angelo? I could so do him.
Thinking about dick, she looked over at fellow employee Craig and wondered what he looked like naked. Maud often wondered that. He was tall, lean and lithe. ‘Panther-like’ the cleaner, who came in every Thursday at three o’clock, described him. Maud nodded absently, her gaze running from his jet black, razor-cut hair down to an ass she wanted to grab and hold onto as he pounded into her. Yep, he was sleek as. Not that he ever noticed her. He was only interested in the accounts bitch, Marian, who was ugly as sin, but reportedly liked to be tied up, whipped and humiliated by the multiple men Craig was known to associate with. Maud heard someone refer to them as ‘Craig’s six-pack.’ Whipping? Humiliation? No thanks. Tied up with multiple dicks at the ready? I could do that.
It had been six months, twenty-four days, sixteen hours, thirty-seven minutes and nine seconds since Maud had been with a man. Yeah. She had been counting. Frustration did that to you and while her glittery, thrusting jack rabbit lavender dildo was good, it wasn’t the same as hot, sweaty male flesh and sticky cum coating your skin.
Someone laughed and her attention went from cum to the new bloke who was taking over. The best that could be said of him was he looked like a Muppet. He had a bland shaped oval face with a nose and ears that looked like they had been stuck on. The ears were too small and the nose was too big. Maud pondered the theory it wasn’t just big feet in a man that indicated a large dick. Lordy, I have dick on the brain.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scarlet Harlot Publishing
• Release date: Oct 22, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301406982

Amarinda Jones

Amarinda Jones believes anything is possible and sometimes just asking for the impossible will surprise someone enough that they will give it to you. Writing is like that. Put it out there and wait for a response. There is always the possibility you may fall on your arse, but after all, that's what cellulite is for. Amarinda believes in taking chances, speaking her mind and aging disgracefully. Twenty years from now she plans on being the neighborhood witch that all the kids are scared of. But then, everyone has to have a hobby.

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Published by Amarinda Jones at Smashwords

www.samarindajones.com

Copyright© 2012 Amarinda Jones

Cover Artist: Amarinda Jones

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Accidentally in love

©Amarinda Jones

Chapter One

Here’s the thing.  I just want sex. Amarette Flinders was not in the mood to pull punches. It had been a shit of a day and all she wanted to do was lose herself in something, be it alcohol, chocolate or a warm, male body. She tossed back the last sips of her glass of white wine and looked the man in the eyes. He was tall, dark and if not exactly handsome, there was a raw edge to him that made her stomach flutter in anticipation of what may be.   

Are you serious? His eyebrow arched in surprise.

Yeah, she was. This was no accident. She had planned to come to this bar and find a man. For the first time in her life, she was about to pick up a stranger in a bar. Admittedly she hadn’t given it a lot of thought. This was more a spur of the moment to-hell-with-being-a-good-girl kind of thing and she needed that. Of late, she had been thinking too damn much and she was over it. Life was meant to be lived and not worried over or be pissed off at.  

 Deadly serious. Interested? She uncrossed and re-crossed her legs. Amarette was aware they were her best feature. Although they were pudgy they were long and a good shape. She hoped they would deflect from the orange highlighter pen stain on the front to her white work shirt that mixed badly with the coffee she had dribbled down the front earlier that day.  It was hard to look sexy when you were inherently clumsy.

His dark brown eyes followed the line of her legs. I’m waiting for the catch.

Smart man. Not many women, unless they were dumb and desperate or working the room for the price of dinner, would throw themselves at a man. Color me a little of both.  There is none. I need. You want. Correct? 

Well, yes.

That he was interested made her feel not only better in herself but weirdly empowered like she was suddenly in control. This beat the hell out of the lack of control and careening off a cliff feeling she had been enduring.  It’s mutual sex without strings. Amarette had never done that before. Normally she had to feel something for a man other than horny desperation. But damn it, I need this.  There was no other man she could think of she wanted to be with. Besides, sex with a stranger she would never see again had a certain thrill to it. Added to that, he wasn’t the first man who approached her.  She was needy, but she wasn’t dumb. Well, not totally dumb.  While it was normally true that you couldn’t judge a book by its cover, Amarette had already repelled the usual slimy Lotharios and drunken backpackers who were looking to get laid. Maybe that sounded like double standards coming from a woman with a specific sexual agenda, but Amarette wasn’t particularly worried about being normal right at that moment.

 Can you do that? He sounded skeptical.

Yes. She could do just about anything after enduring the month from hell in the office. It was no surprise that times were tough in the construction industry. Everyone was tightening their belts and being careful when it came to money. It was no different in the office she worked in. The boring, mild mannered manager, who knew everything about patio covers, sheds and awnings, had been replaced with a flashy dressed man fresh out of university who knew nothing about business, construction or let alone life. He got the job because he was related to someone. While Amarette wasn’t against nepotism, especially if it benefitted her—but then none of her family ever seemed to be connected to the ‘right’ people—it only worked if the person was up to the job. Glen Glenwood wasn’t and it showed in the decisions he made in the office.  Her office. The queen-dom she managed and none disputed her power. 

To deflect attention from the fact he knew nothing about building, Glen spent most of his days coming up with ideas like buying cake every day to make people happy or trying to do ‘fun’ things like seeing which of the men in the office could try and kick the ceiling. This latter idea had ended up with one cracked tailbone, a hole in the wall the size of a man’s foot, a lot of incident and insurance paperwork to fill out, and a huge bill to repair the wall. Then there was the big ship’s bell that Glen insisted they buy and screw on the wall near Amarette’s desk. The reason behind the bell? It was so it could be rung whenever anyone felt like they needed excitement. Seriously. It was an office. Not Disneyland. The other employees got that. Glen didn’t. Everyone avoided the bell.

As the office manager, the bell drove Amarette mad. No one but Glen rang it. And, if he wasn’t making noise, he was demanding pizza be ordered for the whole thirty staff members, but only if it cost no more than fifteen dollars. We’re on a strict budget you know, Amarette. She knew that. She doubted he understood what budget meant. His fine Italian wool suits and expensive leather shoes were completely wrong for a tropical, humid climate like Cairns. Not that she cared if he sweated away to nothing. At least it would stop his grating need to over analyze everyone in the office. As far as Glen was concerned, everyone was found to be wanting and he told them so. Some said this was what sparked the ‘I hate Glen Glenwood’ page on Facebook. Amarette couldn’t say. She suspected they weren’t the only office who’d been ‘Glenwooded’ as there were over two-thousand likes in Facebook.   

I take it you don’t like birthday cake, Amarette?

They had just had an intensely tedious discussion about the office bills, none of which Glen seemed to understand and she had been on the verge of suggesting she bring in sock puppets to maybe explain the situation of debt, and subsequent loss of utilities if he refused to make a decision and sign off on bills. He avoided signing anything unless there was no other choice. Like when the lights went out or the telephone was disconnected. In essence he was a coward who was scared to be responsible for anything. What?

I notice you’ll phone up and order one in but you won’t leave the office to buy it.

She piled all the unsigned bills together and held them tightly against her breasts. It was that or throw them at him.  What’s the difference?

Well, Amarette, leaving the office and finding the cake is important. It shows the birthday person you care. Ordering it sent in indicates cake means nothing to you.

Uh-huh. What a total fuckwit. It was the whole Nero fiddling while Rome burnt thing. A discussion on cake when the construction business, a small off shoot of a large corporate giant, was slowly dying off. That he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, see that was scary. Not to Amarette. She was looking for another job, but others in the office wanted to believe they were secure. She knew there was no such thing. At thirty-five she had walked away from several workplaces that were on the verge of financial ruin due to their own ineptitude.

The final thing, other than his incessant need to ring the bell to create excitement that only he felt and others rolled their eyes over or reached for their earplugs, that drove her to the Chantoozie Bar that night after work, was the ding dong fight that had over his refusal to talk business with any angry customer, supplier and business associate who came in or called in.  

Glen decreed that to be her job. 

What? She was pissed off that he hid in his office while she had to deal with a disgruntled supplier. Which she did. Amarette did not suffer grown men calling her ‘girlie’ lightly. By the time the supplier left he was quiet and contrite. A lot of that had to do with the fact she was angry at Glen. The supplier was merely a catalyst.    

Glen stuck his head out of the office. Has he gone?

Absolute wanker. Yes. You can come out of hiding.  

I don’t care for your attitude, Amarette.

The words ‘stick it in your ear’ hovered on her lips. It would’ve been so easy to say. So fire me.  At that stage she would not have cared if the dumb, blond man had sacked her. 

Glen shook his head. Nope, can’t do that yet. I’ve factored in key personnel and those I’m ready to fire and you’re key at present. You’re the only one who knows how the office runs.

Lovely. He had ‘factored’ in how to ruin people’s lives. It must be nice to be so oblivious to how human beings felt. Amarette almost said ‘I quit.’ It was in the forefront of her mind and it would have been so easy to declare it but it didn’t suit her to. She wanted another job to jump to. The mortgage didn’t pay itself. Grow up, Glen, she muttered to herself as she turned to walk away.

What was that?

I said have a good evening. You useless sack of shit.

Got plans?

No. And even if she did, she wouldn’t let him know. As far as Amarette was concerned work and personal life didn’t meet or mix. 

He sidled up to her. Wanna’ hit the town with me? Glen followed this up with a wink.

I’d rather hit you. No thanks.

That’s okay. You’ll thaw out when you get to know me.

Puke. Spew. Barf. Pardon?

Most women do around me.

It was then she had to leave before she vomited.

So are we on? Although her stomach felt like a million butterflies were suddenly tap dancing on her gizzards, she was surprised she didn’t feel nervous about being with a stranger. Possibly it was the thrill of doing something forbidden. Maybe, it felt right at a time when everything else felt wrong. More likely, it was she just hadn’t had sex in the longest time and she was horny as hell. Whatever it was, Amarette felt comfortable with this man.   

Are you always this direct? He sounded amused.

Yes.  Although, she had never picked up a man in a bar, this one she wanted. Sure, a huge dose of that were hormones and anger and bloody-minded attitude but it was also this man was damn sexy. Not a great reason, but she was going to use sexy to dissolve the echo of bells still ringing in her ears.

Okay.

Great.  Now what do I do?  Amarette liked to believe she had some degree of sophistication when it came to men but this one, with a smile that could make an angel want to do naughty things, made her blush in a very less than sophisticated way.

Are you sure?

Yes. She was. But how do I move on from here?  Hunger was one thing. Where to feed it was another. A No-tell Motel? My house? Car? Up against an alley wall? O-Oohhhh…that’d be scratchy on my skin…

Do you want to know my name? he asked, leaning in to take her hand. 

Oh, that felt nice. Big, strong hands captured and held onto hers with a gentle pressure. She looked in his chocolate brown eyes. The softness in them dazzled her. I’m going to call you Bob.

Why Bob?

BOB. Battery operated boyfriend. That’s how Amarette planned to handle this liaison. This was about heat, dick and friction. In essence, a human BOB.

He laughed at that. O-kay. And you are?

Sally.

You don’t look like a Sally.

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