Mannequin

By Vicki C. Smith

Viola ventures into the big city from a small, close-knit community only to find herself in a dull, temporary office job. Every day she takes the subway, wears the same conservative attire, until a collision with a strikingly handsome stranger changes everything from the moment they meet during the morning traffic rush. With a sense of adventure in tow, a timid yet curious Viola enters a new realm of sexual adventure...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vicki C. Smith
• Release date: Oct 30, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301248827

Vicki C. Smith

Writing erotic fantasy short stories began just over one year ago for Vicki C. Smith. After much consideration, her first book, a novella entitled "Mannequin" was written over the summer of 2013. Born and raised in Canada, Vicki is an avid reader, cyclist, dancer and enjoys martial arts, rock concerts and travel. When she is not writing, Vicki is either working in the field of business management or spending time with friends and family.

Book preview

Mannequin

By Vicki C. Smith

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Vicki C. Smith

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Mannequin

Long, golden spiral sunlight tresses cascaded evenly down her slender back as a warm breeze tossed them about gently. An ivory silk blouse adorned her strong, sturdy shoulders, opening widely in the back to expose her cream-coloured skin. Sheer sleeves followed the graceful length of her arms, finishing in a delicate lace trim halfway down her fingers. She wore a short, navy blue pleated skirt paired with wide fishnet patterned tights and 6 inch heels of the same colour. Her athletic legs stood strong, defining her appearance as sexy, tall and powerful. Dark rose lipstick, nail polish with a glossy shine and smoky eyes with extended lashes completed her look. He watched her every day. She held him in a trance.

One day, he thought, one day…she will be mine. The very thought of taking her into his possession sent electrifying tingles throughout his body, accompanied with a warm sensation in his loins. It was a scene that would play over and over in his mind, entertaining his fantasies. During his daily business meetings with clients and working hours, she often pulled his attention away from the demands of his profession, occasionally distracting him completely, and though he would grow angry internally, it allowed for brief moments of intense self-pleasuring: a practice he indulged in during his coffee breaks and nonchalant trips to the washroom.

Every morning she came into his view with exact consistency; he measured his trips to the office and appointments to accommodate seeing her at exactly the same time each morning, when the sunrise would trickle over her smooth skin and shiny hair like glistening dew on a fresh lawn, adjusting his schedule as the days grew longer in the summer and shorter during winter months. Viewing her aroused him tremendously, and he ached for her to be his, though the letdown of reality was more painful than his wanting her, as she was unattainable. She was just a figure, an object to admire and enjoy, encased within someone else’s domain, putting her out of his reach. His fantasy of having her all to himself…one day…would never happen. She was too distant. Alive in his mind, though inanimate in the flesh. She was a mannequin.

Viola waited impatiently for the subway train. She was running behind for work, and as a newly hired office clerk temp, showing up late could mar her short-term reputation as a punctual, diligent employee. The alarm clock on her mobile phone didn’t co-operate, and as a result, she found herself quickly dressed and on the go in her usual conservative yet fairly modern business attire; her tousled, bra-length chestnut hair quickly tied in a messy chignon. She hadn’t bothered with breakfast this morning, knowing it would only slow her down further. Fortunately, the train lights could be seen ahead within a minute of stepping onto the platform. Partially relieved, Viola pressed down her beige cotton blouse, re-tucking it into her charcoal slacks coupled with matching wedge heels and boarded the train as it pulled into the station.1

Upon arriving at her destination, Viola rushed out of the train car, dashing up the escalator to the street, where she would be only three blocks from the 50-floor office building where she worked. It stood tall, grey and bleak, much like the nature of her job: repetitive, dull and monotonous. The time on her phone allowed for another twenty minutes. Just enough time to grab a coffee and a croissant at Brianne’s Café. There was a brief line up. I can make it, she thought. It should only take five minutes, then another ten to get to work, provided the elevators are not slow. She was determined.

She exited the café very quickly, with both coffee and croissant in hand, and marched briskly towards the office tower. The busy streets were always a nuisance, especially the traffic, though since her move to the big city from a small town of five hundred, Viola quickly adapted to the faster pace of life. As she approached the second last block before the building, an unpredictable swerve of a car and near collision immediately startled her. It caused her to heart to race as she herself turned in a jumping motion to clear the sidewalk corner. This happened so quickly she didn’t see him walk right into her…

The entire contents of the large-sized, freshly brewed sweetened coffee cup pressed instantly against his newly purchased golf shirt, splashing in small waves over his hands, shirt and pants, before hitting the ground. He froze, with his dripping wet hands in the air, glancing down at his coffee-drenched body. Viola’s mouth opened in shock and fright. Oh no, this can’t be happening, she said to herself, how could I...

Oh my…I...I am so sorry, she stuttered in a quieted panic-stricken voice. The man before her stood close to 6’3" tall, strong and lean; although dressed semi-casually, he did appear very professional and serious. He remained still, as she did for a moment, peering down at the stained mess, and it was only as he raised his head slightly to look at her, did she notice his rugged, masculine, yet smoothly shaved face with light hazel eyes and closely cropped dark chocolate hair strewn with hints of grey. There was no immediate expression on his face. He appeared emotionless. She couldn’t read his reaction: was he in shock or angry?

Fumbling through her small purse with shaky fingers, Viola quickly produced two twenty dollar bills, immediately thrusting them at the stranger. She kept her head down. It was probably her last bit of money before Friday, pay day, three days from Tuesday. She couldn’t bear