365 Ficlets - #52 ~ "Self Approbation"

Paul looked around the carriage and wondered how many of the other people on the train were unemployed. It was not as though he was actually unemployable, he was in fact only technically unemployed, so he was one of the ‘stealth unemployed’ who don’t show up in the figures, who don’t draw benefit, who are not impoverished by their status.

It was the Monday after Glastonbury; many of the people on this particular train were in fact on their way home from Pilton, and so with the cost of tickets and living at the Festival for three or four days being so high most of them had to be employed in some sense. Either that or were indescribably wealthy and so formed the third kind of unemployed; do not need to work.

The interview that he had just attended was still playing on his mind – that was why he was toying with himself in this way, calling himself unemployed. It had not gone as well as he wanted it to and he was needling himself, both out of disappointment and his need to remain focused on other opportunities.


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365 Ficlets - #51 ~ "Strange Situations"

Jason pushed his amusement away and concentrated on the framing. He was suddenly and inexplicably struck by the reaction that many of his friends would have to the situation he was in. A lot of men dream of watching a woman masturbate, Jason included, but here he was worrying about the light, and the composition of the frame.

The faint smell of sex in the air, the soft and apparently quite real moans of his model, even the sight of a beautiful, un-enhanced pair of breasts was not breaking through his concentration. Not even the rhythmic movements of her wrist as she described what were no doubt delicious circles around her clitoris were enough to shock him into a more normal frame of mind.

None of his friends would understand – that was what was amusing him – at least none of his male friends. Sure she was a beautiful woman, and he had no one in his life so was even free of thought crime, but no matter how sexual the situation, it was not there for his personal pleasure; just for his camera to witness.

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365 Ficlets - Day #50 ~ "In the Dark Hours of Night"

The night is calmer now. When I decided to leave the party and head for bed the weather had become violent, as if the elements were angered by the celebrations and were now beating upon the door in protest.

I would have stayed up later, but I had that feeling, when one notices that every other adult in the room has a partner and you are the only person left who is completely alone in a crowd.

I said my goodnights, hugged a few good friends and shook hands with a few others and retreated up into the maze of corridors on the upper floors of the hotel, where everyone can have their own private kingdom until the morning.

The news was the usual quotidien round of moral disappointment and economic doomsaying as I made my preparations for bed; sometimes I wonder why I bother to watch it. I considered reading for a while and decided that I would enjoy my book more with a clear head.

Now in the dark, the breeze blowing over my bare legs there is silence, and though alone I feel content and I cannot explain why.

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365 Ficlets - Day #49 ~ "Ready"

Geoff stood in the doorway looking out at the rows of seats, the flowers and the carpeted aisle. In a couple of hours he would be waiting for Hillary to join him and then in front of all of their family and some of their friends they would tell each other that their love would be unstinting in faith and force for the rest of their lives.

He was ready; he had wondered for some time if he would be when the day came, but rather than a fit of jitters or recriminations a sense of calm had settled on his shoulders and he was at peace, happy.

He was fairly certain that there was no peace to be had in Hillary’s room where more women than anyone should reasonably gather together in a small enclosed space would be fussing over hair and make-up, accessories and shoes, trying not to cry for fear of damaging their mascara and not have time to repair it before the moment arrived.

He smiled to himself and hoped that despite all the panic she could feel the peace of this time; he knew that he would never ever forget it.

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365 Ficlets - #48 ~ "Infiltrator"

Fenella sat on the grass bank and watched the crowds milling around her, plates of scones, strawberries and cream and glasses of Pimms clutched in their hands. There was a time, when she would have given anything to be amongst them, gossiping about this person and that person, were they in favour with the committee, had they been seen in the wrong kinds of clubs and so forth.

This year she was here to do no more than spectate; she should have stayed away as already her flesh was beginning to crawl. On the surface this bright society of cultured snacks, cocktails and tittle tattle had seemed so attractive to her when she had arrived in Westbury. Once she left the daylight world that had wooed her in and saw the darker side of Westbury’s people there was nothing left of that attraction. There was only fear.

Even now she was here to pretend that she was still a normal member of that world, when in truth she was far from that; in fact she was here to despatch the Chairman, and she intended to get away with it.

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365 Ficlets - #47 ~ "New job"

Cal surveyed the scene, his hand resting gently on the edge of the bar. There was no doubt that the people in there were waiting to see what he would say or do or think. It was a tough gig to take over a successful niche bar, in this case a rock pub, and not piss off the hard core of regular customers that make it viable to even have the place exist.

He liked the place; sure he had only been there for twenty-four hours, but the vibe he was getting from the locals was that as long as he did not fuck up their pub then the fact that he had usurped a popular bar manager would be over-looked. From what he could tell, Snit and Hayley were just about the most popular management team in living memory, so he had a hell of a bar to clear.

The fact that the place was running low on all of the staples; cider, ale and post-mix coke to go with the Blackjack, was not helping. He could tell that he was going to like the regulars, because they were still there; just drinking vodka and tonic instead, at least until tomorrow.

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365 Ficlets - #46 ~ "Friends Like These"

Thomas leaned back into the sofa and raised the goblet to his lips. The warm, slightly viscous cognac slipped across his lips and down his throat, heating up his mouth and chest. It was good brandy. There was none of the ragged edge that one comes to expect from the cheap stuff, slicing into ones gullet instead of the smooth slide of this fine drink.

He looked up to see Paul smiling at him, and then his own goblet;

“You like the Cognac then, Thomas?”

Thomas simply nodded, allowing a smile to spread across his face. There are those that would claim that gaining such pleasure from what is essentially a drug is not wise, but Thomas reveled in the sheer luxury of drinking such exquisite booze and had no shame about it;

“Paul, it is magnificent. Thank you mon ami. You must allow me to return the favour at some point. You do like whisky, don’t you?”

Paul nodded and his smile grew even wider. He took immense comfort in knowing that Thomas was as moved by the senses as he was; they were going to be good friends.

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365 Ficlets - #45 ~ "Take my Breath Away"

Joe leant back against the hedge and stared up into the sky, his eyes fixed on the crisscrossing vapour trails from the many comings and goings at Heathrow.

He knew that he should not be breathless after a five minute walk, but there he was struggling to breathe and needing to stop after five minutes walking on the flat. He was only forty-two! How had it come to this?

He felt the outline of his fag packet under his thumb where he was bracing his hands against his thighs. Yeah, that was it; he’d left quitting too late. Sure it was… Except, what about the eight years he had not smoked for until six months before? Sure he wished that he had not started again when Sophie had left, but old habits are all you have when your wife leaves with her protegé.

He tried to calm down and concentrate on his breathing – in through the nose, out through the mouth. He noticed that Dee was walking over; that was it. He had been fine until he saw her!

“You alright Joe?”

He nodded, suddenly scrabbling for breath once more.

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365 Ficlets - #45 ~ "Take my Breath Away"

Joe leant back against the hedge and stared up into the sky, his eyes fixed on the crisscrossing vapour trails from the many comings and goings at Heathrow.

He knew that he should not be breathless after a five minute walk, but there he was struggling to breathe and needing to stop after five minutes walking on the flat. He was only forty-two! How had it come to this?

He felt the outline of his fag packet under his thumb where he was bracing his hands against his thighs. Yeah, that was it; he’d left quitting too late. Sure it was… Except, what about the eight years he had not smoked for until six months before? Sure he wished that he had not started again when Sophie had left, but old habits are all you have when your wife leaves with her protegé.

He tried to calm down and concentrate on his breathing – in through the nose, out through the mouth. He noticed that Dee was walking over; that was it. He had been fine until he saw her!

“You alright Joe?”

He nodded, suddenly scrabbling for breath once more.

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365 Ficlets - #44 ~ "Realisation of Dreams as Potential"

Ewan leaned back against the steps and stared up at the clouds as they whipped by at an unusually high speed. Not the stately progress of white, fresh, cotton puff clouds, but more the barreling by of hard, grey, steel wool clouds that almost always heralded rain.

He took a long drag on his cigarette, savouring the acrid sweetness of the smoke; it was giving him everything that he had expected and needed of it. The night had been long and filled with circular internal discussions about his situation and the choices that he had made, but now in the dim morning light, looking up into the foreboding sky and down into the sleepy valley below he finally felt a moment’s peace.

There was nothing he could do to change the situation, there was going to be no way to resolve it himself. All he could do was take his hand off the brake and freewheel down the hill towards his destiny; let the chips fall where they may. She would either come to love him, or she would not but one thing was clear; it was not his to control.

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365 Ficlets - #43 ~ "Sleepless..."

I have not been sleeping, and Sara has been asking me why. I lie awake at night, just looking at her trying to work out how she can still sleep next to me after what I did to her. And then I get out of bed and I go to make coffee and I try to tell myself that if she can forgive me then maybe I should too.

When she finally woke up we learned the truth. Her doctors were not able to explain it, but something had happened in the crash and even though there was no visible trauma Sara woke up blind. She was only in hospital for a week in the end, but Louise came and stayed with us for a month after she was released. I still had to work and Sara needed to have someone around.

So in the middle of the night, while I am drinking my coffee and wishing I could smoke, what I am really doing is looking for any tiny way for me to escape the guilt that I feel for her blindness. I know that she would be angry with me if she knew what I was doing, but she would be angrier if she knew I was lying to her about my insomnia.

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365 Ficlets - #42 ~ "Dreaming of a Different Future"

Tanya felt herself make a sudden and involuntary intake of breath, as the zepplin appeared out of the fog. It was almost silent, as it slipped into view, tendrils of mist curling down the sides of the hull, like strands of gossamer.

She had always been fascinated by dirigibles, she was fairly sure that it was because the first Bond movie that her parents had let her see was the one with the fantastic airship in a shed. Now here she was about to board her creation. She was a modernised re-creation of the Hindenberg that was no longer susceptible to the weaknesses that led to the famous disaster that destroyed the reputation of airships on the world stage.

If this flight went well she would be one step closer to making a success of the most off the wall idea that anyone had had for a while; the return of trans Atlantic airship cruising as an alternative to jet airliners. The concept was simple; rather than rush to New York in five to six hours, why not arrive having spent two and a half days in luxury?


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365 Ficlets - Day #41 ~ "Careless"

Eva pulled her hand back, shocked by the heat. She had not expected the stove to be on and so had simply reached out for the pan to pick it up by its rim.

The dull pain of a burn was already throbbing in her fingers as she plunged her hand into the cold water standing in the sink. She pulled the plug out and turned the cold tap on with her other hand, so that she could hold the affected area under cold running water.

As she stood there, attempting to protect herself from a nasty blister and a scar, she cast her gaze out across the beach. She knew that she often took for granted that she lived right on the beach, or as near as dammit at any rate. The deck outside the kitchen door ended a few feet from the sea wall, and the beach was the other side of that.

The sun was setting, and she could see Jake sitting in his usual place, playing. She wondered why he always came down to the beach to play at sunset; he would get a lot more from busking in the daytime, particularly on a Sunday when there were tourists.

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365 Ficlets - Day #40 ~ "Piper at the Gates of Dusk"

Jake leant back against the groyne and slipped his feet out of his shoes. He loved the feeling of the crushed shells that made up the beach under his feet. Hundreds of years of shellfish farming here had led to an entire beach made up of seashells.

The sun was sinking over the Isle, like a giant flaming orange that was slowly being lowered onto the land. There, in the quiet, Jake took out his pipe and began to play.

Sometimes when he went through this ritual, day trippers who had forgotten to leave earlier in the evening would stop and listen to him as he cast the melancholy laments of his own composition onto the offshore breeze, but not this evening. It had rained almost all day and the town had been spared the usual July influx of tourists and sun worshippers that would come from as far away as London to eat oysters and blister in the sun.

As he played, the sun continued to sink and all of his thoughts turned to Odette. The music came out of him as if it had its own anima and he felt at peace once more.

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365 Ficlets - Day #39 ~ "My Smile is my Make-up..."

Jo smiled at her, a mask of well meaning lies. The thing was that Jo was filled with jealousy and she did not know how she was going to cope with this situation, let alone all of the other ones that were to come.

She had never thought that Amy's modelling would bother her. She had seen Amy's portfolio, but they had been curled up on the sofa together, the morning after they had first made love. It was exciting to see these beautiful pictures of her new lover in all her glory. Now that she was here, a photographer and his assistant looking at her, and talking about how to make her look more sexy, and Amy taking delight in the process, the motives of the shoot and the result; it was a shock.

Men and women all over the world were going to see these pictures and be turned on by something that Jo felt should be for her alone. She knew that she had to get over this or hide it from Amy. Amy wanted to do this, loved doing this and she was so happy that Jo seemed so supportive, and Jo felt so lost and so scared.

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365 Ficlets - Day #38 ~ "Shooting Nerves"

Amy held her breath, trying to ignore the cold, rough floor against her shoulders and her buttocks. When she had seen the location she knew that the photos were going to be striking, but her heart had sunk a little when the impending discomfort had dawned on her in the next moment. Still she had sat in icy streams, even posed in the snow; these were not the most extreme conditions that she had endured. Her thoughts were interrupted by Darius;

“That’s fantastic, Amy, thanks so much. Why don’t you get up and get warm for five to ten? John’s got a brew for you, and I’ll get the lights set up for the next shot.”

She had never worked with Darius before, but she liked the work he had sent her and the general buzz amongst the other models she knew was that he was respectful and yet a fun guy. She shrugged on the robe that John brought over to her, with a mug of tea, and quickly flashed a look at Jo; she was smiling at her, and that felt good. She was glad to have brought her; her support in this meant the world.

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365 Ficlets - Day #37 ~ "Dead Bang"

Tom steadied himself again and went back to thinking about his breathing. In is down, out is up. In is down, out is up. On the third cycle, as the sight was in place he held his breath and gently began to squeeze the trigger. Bang! Immediately afterwards he heard the clang of the plate target; another good hit. Time to move.

The searching group were only ten metres to his left as he slid away into the longer grass towards the third hide point he had scouted on the walkthrough before. All of the aspirant snipers had to find their own hides and their own routes between them before the test. It was as important a part of their skillset as actually being able to make the shot, if not more important. A good scout sniper can enter a forward position, kill the enemy and then leave, unmolested, ready to do so again the next day, and the next.

They never even saw him, and now he was in position again. He checked the wind, using the pennants on the radio antennae, adjusted his scope, in and out and hold and squeeze.

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365 Ficlets - Day #36 ~ "The Blame Game"

I looked down at her in that bed, connected to machines that beep and breathe and tell the doctors what they call ‘her vitals’; “I put her there” is all that I could think.

If only I had been more careful, if only I had been paying more attention, if…

I felt Louise’s arm around my shoulder and she squeezed me in that way that says “it’s ok, I’m here”. I let my head fall onto her shoulder and closed my eyes, hoping that I would wake from this horrible nightmare when I opened them again.

She led me out into the corridor and sat me down on one of those moulded plastic chairs designed for ease of storage and economy of production as the important driving forces; comfort being almost ignored. A hot, black coffee appeared in my hands, and then she sat beside me and locked her eyes onto my face.

“My daughter would never blame you for this, and I don’t either, so please stop blaming yourself. It was an accident; no blame.”

I wanted to believe her, but my Sara was almost dead, and I was not, and I was driving.

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365 Ficlets - Day #35 ~ "The Bargain"

Robin licked his lips and then ran the tip of his tongue along his teeth, enjoying the sensation of their slight sharpness. He turned to his guest;

“So you would like me to help you with this… problem? I am amused that you would come to me for assistance in this Rodrigo; surely our blood has been in conflict too long for your pride to stand it.”

Rodrigo showed no weakness in his face, but Robin could see the indecision behind his eyes; the desire to simply get up and leave rather than dance with him.

“You know that there is no way my family can deal with this slight; your brother has long been protected by those even more powerful than you.”

Robin nodded and decided that his old rival was probably prepared to offer almost anything to get his daughter back. Besides, Robin had no love for his brother and to see the Queen’s champion brought low would amuse him no end, as well as settle an old, old score.

“You know what I desire, my old enemy. Pay that and I will bring Persephone to you within one week.”

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365 Ficlets - Day #34 ~ "B.A.S.E."

Leland paused on the edge, enjoying the suspense that he was prompting in the people behind the fence. He knew that there were some people who would never understand why he was about to throw himself off a cliff, but he also believed that a lot of those ‘safe’ behind the fence would want to jump as much as he did, if they could.

He looked down, checking that he had remembered the launch point correctly; that the landing was in the same state as when he had visited in advance. All was as he remembered it. He took three large strides back and looked around; people were starting to pull out cell phones. He needed to get on and jump before the Police showed.

He took a deep breath and launched into a run, and then he was free. For just a second he was flying, his forward momentum carrying him away from the cliff and staving off gravity. He tucked up as he began to fall, turned a triple, and then opened up, arms and legs outstretched, as he pulled his chute. Hanging there he was at peace, surrounded by silence.

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365 Ficlets - Day #33 ~ "Anticipation"

Nicola smiled a private little smile as she re-read the last sentence of the email;

“When I see you, I am going to kiss you; you can stop me if you want to, but if you don’t I will keep kissing you until we have to stop for food, sleep or both.”

He was very sure of himself, she thought. Still she knew that he had every reason to be; every time she read that sentence she could feel her whole body answering him. She found herself not only imagining the kiss, but what would come after if she had her way. She would lean back against the wall and push his head down between her legs. If that was the kind of thing that he liked then she was not going to deny him anything else; he could ask her for anything and she would be glad to give it to him. She already knew that she wanted him. She already knew that in a relatively short period of time that she could love him. Now she needed to be reassured that there was no selfishness in him as a lover and then the spell would be complete. It promised to be a good weekend.


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365 Ficlets - Day #32 ~ "Southbound on the Bakerloo"

Serena looked at him again out of the corner of her eye. He was looking straight ahead, lost in his music, now that he’d said hello. She turned her head and looked at him. She had felt his eyes upon her, day in, day out, until he had noticed her ring and then he had not really looked again. It was rare in her experience for a man to be so respectful of her status.

He was nothing special to look at. Overweight, scruffy looking, long hair and a beard that were clearly personal choices, rather than the best use of his features. She was intrigued by his reasons for standing to her left every morning, and always acknowledging her, rather than treating her like a ghost as most passengers did. She made an announcement and then resolved to watch him for a clue.

As the train came to a stop she realised that there was a door that was almost always just a person’s width to her left; she always stood on the same mark. He did not look back, just boarded the train; he was saying ‘morning’ to be polite, nothing more.


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365 Ficlets - Day #31 ~ "Last Stop"

Walter stared at the simple metal table in front of him. He had wondered when he first came into the room why they would have a table made of metal in there, but then he saw that it was bolted to the floor, and then they shackeld him to it with the handcuffs and it all became clear. Wooden tables are easier to smash than metal ones.

He flipped through the typed statement that had been left in front of him; they had been smart enough to secure his left hand, leaving him his right hand to write with. Stupid pigs – they never even asked if he was right-handed. Still he was not going to sign this fiction, so it really did not matter. They had left him some smokes and a coffee, so he lit one up and settled back to try and enjoy his alone time; it would not be long now. He drew in a large lungful of smoke and gave the customary, defiant eye-fuck to the one-way glass mirror that the detectives were hiding behind.

He heard the commotion start as he was dimping out the cigarette; clearly James was here. Time to die.


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365 Ficlets - Day #30 ~ "No Ordinary Night Shift"

Jacob looked out across the forecourt of the filling station, trying not to be bored. He was searching for anything even remotely out of the ordinary to take his interest for even a moment. He was sick to death of midnight to eight shifts. Keeping the door locked for security purposes meant that he never got to talk to any of the tiny number of customers. They did not tend to like being locked out either.

The person filling up a motorbike on pump five was annoying him. They had not taken their helmet off despite the signs. Through the drizzle and the bad sodium light he couldn’t see whether or not the car parked at three was even planning to take on fuel. The driver was still inside after five minutes – what was that about? He glanced back down at the till sheet that he was getting ready for the shift change, but when he looked up again there was a shotgun pointed at his head through the glass he knew to be less than shot resistant, despite the brave stickers claiming that it was. Of course it was the biker.

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365 Ficlets - Day #29 ~ "Crossroads"

I keep going back to that moment, trying every time to work out exactly what happened. We were driving home, Sara was in the passenger seat next to me, her hand nestling in the back of my neck idly stroking the hair at my nape. We were talking about the wedding; who we would invite, what the food should be. We even had a silly argument about who should DJ the party and then we were laughing about how we would need ten hours to get all of our friends a decent set.

I have driven that road so many times. I have driven it since; there should have been no surprises. We were happy, and then the car was sliding. I still don’t know what happened, but I must have lost the back wheels on some oil or perhaps some black ice – it was a cold night. Time slowed to a crawl. As I threw all of the right-hand lock on to try and get the tail back I saw the fear in her eyes. I locked her eyes with mine and tried to tell her that it would be okay. I couldn’t recover the slide, and in the moment that I knew it we hit the wall.

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365 Ficlets - Day #28 ~ "Rainy Days and Mondays..."

Oscar stared out at the rain, hitting the pavement so hard that there seemed to be a wave of splashes up to the pedestrians’ knees. He wanted to be out there, bathing in Nature’s rinse cycle. He had loved to run in the rain until he was out of breath and then stand, arms outstretched, face to the heavens and let the falling drops drench him and wash him clean.

He turned away from the window, and gripping the wheels on his chair he propelled himself back to the computer. With home-help and a better chair and indoor modifications to pay for there was no way to blow work off and go out in the rain; besides Annie would have a fit. He had to show her, somehow, that he was not made of glass just because of the accident – that going out in the rain would be almost as joyful as it had always been. That having to dry out a wheelchair as well as his clothes was not really a terrible disaster.

He keyed the computer back to life and logged into the server.

“Back to the accounts!”, he thought to himself. He smiled.

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365 Ficlets - Day #27 ~ "Inconsistent Reality?"

Peter mopped his brow again and squinted in the torchlight. He was supposed to be on the A303 , on his beautiful bike and probably exceeding the speed limit if the truth be known. Instead he was holding a drill, and sitting next to an unexploded bomb from the Second World War.

Even as far as he was concerned, the job he did was a job for a madman. In the same way that only firemen run into burning buildings, only bomb disposal experts crouch in cramped spaces next to a thing that could level a whole block, and then fiddle with it. Most people just get as far away from the damn things as they can; why did he get into this? He pushed away the recriminations and tried to concentrate; his team would be back with better lights soon, and they would want to know his thoughts.

He ran his hands along the cold metal looking, or rather feeling, for a casting seam that might give away which type of device it was or where it was made. There was none to be found; was it his imagination or did the casing feel too smooth?


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365 Ficlets - Day #26 ~ "Tell the Truth..."

Serena settled back into the cushions and waited to see if Tim would bite. So far the evening had been one of truth-telling, but would he confront the issue that she had just raised, or change the subject?

“The thing is, Serena, you are right. Sex without a condom does feel much better, but not for the obvious reasons.”

Oh he was going to bite! Marvelous!

“What do you mean, huh?”

“It’s simple. If you care about someone enough to get tested and wait while they get tested and then trust each other enough to be monogamous and also that there is some form of contraception being used, then you can have sex without a condom, right?”

She nodded, not wanting to admit that she had simply rolled the dice and ignored all of these perfectly sensible precautions in the past.

“Well there is nothing between you, so the connection is complete, and you can come inside her, which has an incredible emotional and physical pay-off; it’s about the chance of procreating in the end.”

She smiled. She was right about him.

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365 Ficlets - Day #25 ~ "Confidence..."

Mike looked again at the portfolio of pictures, trying to find some indication of the model’s character from a series of photographs that while accomplished felt cold and empty to him.

It was getting to a point where all he did towards his goals was look at modeling sites on the internet and then fail to contact any of the models who piqued his interest. He would find himself initially hooked by a look, or a face, or a body, only to find that he could not imagine the model’s personality, or that based on their pictures he didn’t like them.

He knew that he had to get over this blank spot, that none of the models that he was dismissing so easily were actually bad or shallow people. Hell he had friends that also modeled and they were friendly, cool, creative people. There was just something slightly seedy and at the same time artificial about ‘choosing’ someone to shoot from a series of pictures on an internet site. It felt just one step away from picking a hooker and he did not relish that prospect any more.

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365 Ficlets - Day #24 ~ "Fag Break"

Stuart lit his cigarette and peered out into the gloomy drizzle that was falling outside the shop. As usual, he was killing time until Felix arrived and he could go and buy some lunch. Monday was never a busy day for them. He had tried to make the argument that they should just not bother opening on Monday, because no one was going to buy enough DJ gear to make it worth their while, but Bob did not like the idea of missing those one or two sales that sometimes just wander in. Besides he like being the owner of the only DJ shop in the West End that was open seven days a week.

Stuart took another deep drag and tried to focus on how much he was enjoying the smoke and not on how bored he was with what he had originally thought would be a great job. As a middle-weight DJ he made some money on the weekends doing early sets at the smaller clubs, but not enough to live on. When Felix had told him that Bob was looking for another shop-hand who knew his stuff it seemed more attractive than carrying on as postie.

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365 Ficlets - Day #23 ~ "Office Politics"

Naomi stared down at the coffee that she had been stirring for far too long at this point. She let go of the spoon and it clattered around the rim of the mug for a moment and then came to rest like a skiff-poll in a muddy river.

Peter had no right to talk to her that way, but how was she going to confront the ‘little incident’ that they had just had without looking like the token woman in the development office that she had often felt that she indeed was? He knew nothing about her life, he had no right to publicly interpret her good mood as having ‘gotten good and fucked’ over the weekend. She had no desire to answer his question, but more importantly she wanted and needed to stomp on the conversation that was now happening back at their little cubicle island whilst she made herself a coffee. She had heard this conversation about male colleagues; “I bet she was fugly” or “It doesn’t count with hookers…”, and registered her displeasure about that talk at work. Now it was about her and she was very angry.

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