Naughty Beach Motel 1

By CJ Blake

Bill Jones has an ordinary life. Work. Home. Work. Home, and on and on. Until one day when everything changes. Jobless with no prospects, Bill receives the chance of a lifetime. A letter with a new opportunity in a land of sun, sand, and babes. Lots and lots of babes. Will Bill climb out of his rut and head for new horizons, or will he stay in his comfort zone?

PREVIEW:

“Bill Jones?”
That voice didn’t sound familiar.
I stopped typing and turned in my swivel chair to see who had just said my name. The chair made an awful squeak, then a clunking sound that always made me think it was about to collapse underneath me. I had complained about it once, but management told me it would just have to do.
“Yes?” I said to the scrawny man looking at me. He held a big stack of papers in his arms, he was hugging them to his chest and it looked like he was having a little bit of trouble just holding them. He wore a short-sleeved white button-down and black slacks that were faded to a grayish tone. “You can put those down,” I told him. “My space isn’t sacred.”
He dropped them onto my desk, a cloud of dust went up and I think he breathed most of it in, then promptly sneezed it back out. His sneeze sounded like the whistle on an old locomotive.
“What can I help you with?” I said. I worked in the finance department at WorldFi, a global financial institution that did all sorts of things that were difficult to describe without putting people to sleep. Yeah, to say my job was boring would be a massive understatement. But hey, it paid the bills.
“Mr. Jones,” the man said, his arms still trembling from the heavy load. “I’m Henry Stanfield from HR. I have something for you.” He thumbed through his stack of papers and handed me a folder. I looked down at it and saw my full name William Russell Jones printed on the front. “What is this?” I asked. I looked up, but Henry Stanfield and his stack of papers were gone.
I leaned back in my chair and it made that awful clunking sound again. I opened the folder and read.
Long story short, WorldFi had had enough of me. Yep, I was gone, let go, outsourced, not technically fired, but yeah...fired.
There were specific instructions to pack up any personal belongings but to leave everything else and to exit the building at five this afternoon. I checked my phone, it was three-fifteen. What’s an extra hour and forty-five minutes?
I stood up, slid that squeaky chair under my desk for the last time, and started out of my cubicle. I didn’t have any personal belongings, I didn’t have pictures of a wife and kids around my workstation because I didn’t have a wife or kids. I didn’t bring stuffed animals or potted plants to work. I just came to work, did a good job (I thought) then went home. Day after day for the last...I had to think about it in my head...five years!
Was that right?
I’d started at WorldFi two years after college and I was now twenty-nine. Wow, time flies when you’re sitting in a dim cubicle.
I started out the door when I heard a crash behind me. I turned around, hoping no one had taken out their frustrations on poor Henry. They weren’t, it was just Helen from accounting, the middle-aged woman had been trying to carry out all her potted plants and stuffed animals and it appeared she had bumped into something and dropped about half of them. I saw a tall guy that I recognized from the water cooler step right around without even asking if she was okay. I walked over to her and picked up one of her plants and held it. “Need some help, Helen?”
“Yes,” she turned around, holding an armload of stuffed animals. “Thank you, Bill.”
“No problem,” I said.
“I guess the news has me a little bit out of it.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I guess we’re all in shock a little bit.”
Helen nodded. She was about to drop a stuffed monkey. I reached out and grabbed it.
“Thank you, Bill. Do you know what you’re going to do now?”
I did not.

• Language: English
• Publisher: CJ Blake
• Release date: Mar 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005233969

CJ Blake

Hi, I'm CJ Blake, your average mild-mannered erotica writer.

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CJ Blake

Naughty Beach Motel 1

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2022 by CJ Blake

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

CJ Blake asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

CJ Blake has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

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Contents

Bad Beginning

Opportunity in an Envelope

Back on Track

It’s a Sign

Fresh Start

Sweet Revenge

Runnin’ on Empty

Destination Reached

Early Riser

The Tour

Let the Cleaning Begin

We Got Lights

Hard at the Hardware Store

Work, Work, Work

A Good Lunch Break

Also by CJ Blake

Bad Beginning

Bill Jones?

That voice didn’t sound familiar.

I stopped typing and turned in my swivel chair to see who had just said my name. The chair made an awful squeak, then a clunking sound that always made me think it was about to collapse underneath me. I had complained about it once, but management told me it would just have to do.

Yes? I said to the scrawny man looking at me. He held a big stack of papers in his arms, he was hugging them to his chest and it looked like he was having a little bit of trouble just holding them. He wore a short-sleeved white button-down and black slacks that were faded to a grayish tone. You can put those down, I told him. My space isn’t sacred.

He dropped them onto my desk, a cloud of dust went up and I think he breathed most of it in, then promptly sneezed it back out. His sneeze sounded like the whistle on an old locomotive.

What can I help you with? I said. I worked in the finance department at WorldFi, a global financial institution that did all sorts of things that were difficult to describe without putting people to sleep. Yeah, to say my job was boring would be a massive understatement. But hey, it paid the bills.

Mr. Jones, the man said, his arms still trembling from the heavy load. I’m Henry Stanfield from HR. I have something for you. He thumbed through his stack of papers and handed me a folder. I looked down at it and saw my full name William Russell Jones printed on the front. What is this? I asked. I looked up, but Henry Stanfield and his stack of papers were gone.

I leaned back in my chair and it made that awful clunking sound again. I opened the folder and read.

Long story short, WorldFi had had enough of me. Yep, I was gone, let go, outsourced, not technically fired, but yeah…fired.

There were specific instructions to pack up any personal belongings but to leave everything else and to exit the building at five this afternoon. I checked my phone, it was three-fifteen. What’s an extra hour and forty-five minutes?

I stood up, slid that squeaky chair under my desk for the last time, and started out of my cubicle. I didn’t have any personal belongings, I didn’t have pictures of a wife and kids around my workstation because I didn’t have a wife or kids. I didn’t bring stuffed animals or potted plants to work. I just came to work, did a good job (I thought) then went home. Day after day for the last…I had to think about it in my head…five years!

Was that right?

I’d started at WorldFi two years after college and I was now twenty-nine. Wow, time flies when you’re sitting in a dim cubicle.

I started out the door when I heard a crash behind me. I turned around, hoping no one had taken out their frustrations on poor Henry. They weren’t, it was just Helen from accounting, the middle-aged woman had been trying to carry out all her potted plants and stuffed animals and it appeared she had bumped into something and dropped about half of them. I saw a tall guy that I recognized from the water cooler step right around without even asking if she was okay. I walked over to her and picked up one of her plants and held it. Need some help, Helen?

Yes, she turned around, holding an armload of stuffed animals. Thank you, Bill.

No problem, I said.

I guess the news has me a little bit out of it.

Yeah, I said. I guess we’re all in shock a little bit.

Helen nodded. She was about to drop a stuffed monkey. I reached out and grabbed it.

Thank you, Bill. Do you know what you’re going to do now?

I did not. I never really gave it any thought. Sure my job was boring, but it was a decent job, I never really considered leaving. I’m not really sure.

I’ll have to do something, and do it quick, Helen said. I’ve got nine hungry mouths at home.

She was talking about cats, not kids. But to be fair, they might as well have been Helen’s kids, she didn’t have any children, and she was long past that