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Night Writer

By: EgmontGrigor2011



CHAPTER 1

Wounded at being divorced by the treacherous bastard she'd stupidly married, and now possessing half of their combined declared assets while knowing he had undeclared hidden assets but decided to let that be, Boston-born Geneva Beggs returned to America to hide in the hope she could recover and become happy again.

Geneva recognized half of the guiltless parties in such collapsed marriages would feel like she did, not that she felt any better in acknowledging that.

She had her passport and name on other official documents changed from Beggs to her maiden name of Graham and in London and transferred her bank accounts to the Bank of America, nominating her branch.

Geneva Graham arrived in Asheville, in in Blue Ridge Mountains in western North Carolina, where her late mother had been born, determined to resume her life on her own terms. 

Two days after arriving she leased a two-bedroom apartment in Lexington Ave and, with that done, could almost feel the cloud lift from her.

Geneva worked to regain her 'lost' accent from living abroad to try to fit in better in this more conservative neck of the woods. Well as least the female real estate leasing agent hadn't asked was she English.

With some of her $3.76 million in cash already invested in American stocks and a beach house in a gated community in Florida, the forty-two year old was self-sufficient and decided not to seek work, at least not for a while. 

Already two women on the same floor of the apartment block had called to welcome her and Geneva deeply considered that as being homely. The apartment was furnished and she'd arrived with only two carry bags. Her personal effects were in storage in England and would remain there until she relocated to Denver in possibly a year's time.

That afternoon Geneva purchased an Apple Mac 15-inch laptop computer plus printer and back home pulled out the memory stick containing the first eleven chapters of a planned 35-chapter novel with the working title of ' Runaway Drug Heiress'.

Geneva had a masters in English Lit gained in Boston. When in London on a working vacation immediately after leaving college, she was employed by a publishing company and began writing this novel at nights. But when one of the partners, a childless widower, became inflated with her, she ceased writing and didn't resume it after marriage because working and looking after him kept her fully occupied. 

The asshole became infatuated with other young women and eventually the penny dropped and Geneva realized he'd married her to be his housekeeper and he blatantly admitted that when confronted.

Her work became her consuming interest and she left her husband largely to his own interests. After nine very unspectacular years of their marriage Charles came to her asking for a divorce because he'd met someone else. Geneva hired a top divorce solicitor and gained a satisfactory exit with a barrow load of cash. 

The marriage ended disastrously for both of them (the girlfriend left Charles when she learned how much of his assets the departing wife would exit with) but Geneva had to admit to herself the sex, when she'd managed to get it, had been great but like most women she'd also desired other things from a marriage. 

Setting up the computer and establishing the wireless connection to the printer, Geneva read and later watched early evening news while eating an omelet and then returned to working on her draft novel after a two-year break. Only when stopping work at 1:30 did she yawn and say, "Jesus I'm a night writer by choice."

When at a book and stationery supplies store early next morning, Geneva was served by the female proprietor who apologized for the delay for service.

"I'm down two assistants including the woman who managed incoming books and stocking the shelves."

"That must be tough for you," Geneva said.

"Tougher than you think honey because I go home to a husband and two sloth-like teens, but so far I haven yet seen many would-be customers throw their hands in the air and walk out."

"Are you advertising for replacement people?"

"Yes and what a wonderful way to meet deadbeats," the woman said bitterly.

"I could work part-time, 9:00 to 2:00 but would have to leave at 2:00, until you get a permanent replacement. I worked all summer in a bookstore in Boston when an undergraduate and worked for two years in London as an assistant editor for a publisher."

"Omigod, I'm Thelma Cousins. Could you help out and start right now?"

Geneva laughed and said she'd fetch her references before being interviewed.

"That won't be necessary. Incoming stock is piling up at the back and you would have seen the empty shelves. There's no charge for this travel book on Queensland, Australia and this printer paper. Are you writing?"

"Yes."

"Omigod my day is made. My mother will arrive to work behind the counter from 11:00 till closing. I can see daylight."

Geneva introduced herself and was taken to the storeroom as soon as the line-up of customers had cleared.

And so the weekday arrangement of convenience for both women began.

As Geneva returned from placing a carton of new magazines in the racks, Thelma arrived with an attractive woman of thirty-two, Geneva's age.

"Geneva this is Kitty Kennedy, floor manager at a pharmacy from just up the street. She knows about unpacking stock and checking off against invoices and pulling out damaged stock and recording missing items. I went to university with her boss and their initial morning rush is over and yes she can help out till 2:00 each day. Keith will get off his butt and perform her supervisory role of pharmacy staff."

Geneva and Kitty said hi and hugged and the three women laughed when Geneva said, "Wow Thelma, you found yourself in deep crap and have dug your way out of it brilliantly."

Thelma later complimented the two women for what they'd achieved in under four hours and when Kitty left Geneva asked if she could make a suggestion and Geneva listened and agreed to allow a selection of books supplied with the tag of 'possible hot sellers' to be displayed near the entrance alongside best-selling titles.

"I'll get a sign made for the stand but it can't be possible hot sellers because that's a big negative for browsers."

Geneva suggested 'Titles on the Rise'.

"Yes we'll run with that," Thelma said, hugging Geneva and thanking her again. "I'd like you to come home to lunch on Saturday. My sister manages the store at weekends."

Geneva accepted that thought two invitations in one day... Kitty had invited her to dinner on Sunday. Her social life was rocketing! She went home, showered and napped till 6:00 and went to a Thai restaurant and returned home and began her alternative role of night writer. 

* * *

Lunch at Thelma's was more or less lunch with Thelma because nothing Geneva said to the 14-year old daughter and son of almost sixteen appeared to interest them, Gregg the husband answered her politely and spent a lot of his time glancing at Geneva's breasts and as soon as eating was done the kids were off to visit friends and Gregg was off to watch TV on sport. Not one of them cleared anything from the table.

Geneva thought Thelma would be better off dumping the lot of them.

"Ah they've gone and we have peace and can enjoy a good chat," Geneva sighed. "I'll make coffee soon."

God Thelma was lonely despite living with a husband and two kids! Geneva thought Thelma would really love setting off to work and chatting to customers about books and the price of printer inks. 

Next evening Geneva wasn't sure if Kitty's husband Philip had glanced at her breasts; god was Kitty married to a gay guy. But Kitty's brother Brody Duke arrived unexpectedly and Brody appeared half-stunned by Geneva's auburn hair and face and perhaps her body and when he glanced at her boobs his eyes bulged a little.

O-m-i-g-o-d she thought, darling Kitty had invited the hunk to dinner in the hope he'd shaft her new friend Geneva who appeared to be running on empty, to put it politely.

Geneva moved positively to avoid disappointing Kitty.

"Hi Brody, omigod do you work out?"

He flushed with pleasure.

"Yeah a little. I came out of the Army two months ago at the end of a posting to the Middle East. Apart from dodging abuse and driving aimlessly about on patrols, there wasn't a great lot to do on our peace-keeping duty but to read or play in the sand or to wait to use equipment in the gym."

"You missed out women and booze?"

"Over there both could be lethal," he smiled and stared at her boobs until she blushed. He looked away grinning.

O-m-i-g-o-d.

Geneva squeezed her thighs together as if concerned he was about to jump her. Her hunger for sex soared and she felt the happiest she'd been since she legally dumping the jerk she'd married.

But would he want to have sex with her?

Geneva realized Kitty and Philip had left them alone and she took a risk completely out of character and said to Brody, "Show me your chest."

He looked surprised and looked to see if they were still alone.

"Okay providing you show me yours."

She ran her tongue out over her top lip for a fraction of a second but was certain that had been long enough for him to have spotted.

"No not here. Chances of discovery are too great."

"Well it could throw Philip but Kitty is broad-minded. I'll take you home later."

"Thanks, I'd like that."

Philip brought in two beers and looking puzzled said to Geneva, "Kitty said she'd get you a drink and wants you in the kitchen."

Kitty grabbed Geneva by the hands and Geneva thought wow, this friendship was advancing quickly.

"Anything?"

Geneva hesitated thinking surely Kitty hadn't expected her to hit on her brother as quickly as she had done.

Kitty said, "I'd told him to hit on you quickly."

Relieved of that embarrassment, Geneva smiled. "He offered to take me home after we finish here and I accepted."

"Oh great. You will be missing sex after your marital break-up and my girlfriends say Brody is great at it. Oh god what am I saying?"

"It's okay and I think you are very sweet to have my interests at heart. I feel I've known you for zonks."

"Me too. We are destined to be great friends."

Inside the apartment Brody removed his jacket and then his shirt as Geneva watched, almost breathlessly. She felt her nipples firm and the bud of her clit was sending her electrical impulses as if urging her to do something.

Brody's chest was tanned and as smooth as a baby's bottom.

Eh?

Well that was an oft-used phrase in 20th century English literature.

"Your chest is handsome."

He looked surprised and asked "Handsome?"

"Yes it can be used in that sense although rarely is. For example, George Eliot in her novel 'Silas Marner' wrote Squire Cass lived in the large red house a handsome flight of stone steps."

He ignored that explanation and said, "Stroke my chest."

"I will if you pass this test: Who is or who was George Eliot."

"Easy, I remember that from high school. That was the pen name of a woman writer in Victorian times although I can't recall her name."

Geneva stroked his chest slowly, not looking at him and then lay the side of her face against the rise to a nipple and waggled her eye-lashes to brush the skin.

Brody pulled up her head gently and they kissed softly. As she withdraw he said, "Now it's my turn to see your chest."

"No."

He looked mutinously at her, searching her green eyes.

"Not unless you undress me."

He leered and sprang forward and clasping her in his arms pulled down the zip at the back of her dress and with practiced ease undid the two hooks of her bra.

Brody pulled down the black velvet dress to Geneva's waist, Geneva cooperating to free her arms then then he pulled up her pink, lacy bra and began licking one of the firm, blemish-free and mid-sized breasts.

"Nice tit," he said slurping.

She looked down giggling.

"Well you fuck me kind sir?"

"Yeah providing you have condoms."

She did.

And they did it.

The sight of Brody's large dick that bent towards the end made Geneva think of an offensive war weapon and frightening through made her weak at the knees. She sank towards the floor but her descent to the carpet was halted momentarily as the artful seducer scooped her dress and panties over her hips.

God, she thought, if he couldn't fuck well she'd be astounded.

She wasn't astounded.

Geneva lay on her back and lifted her legs to ease the removal of her dress and panties and then Mr Goodfellow or rather Brody Duke sank his face into her groin. Her eyes rolled up grotesquely and she groaned from deep within her core, or so she fancied that's where that primeval sound originated.

He didn't finish her off, but left her cunt extra-well lubed and she was practically panting for it as she scurried off to fetch some condoms.

Back on the floor and panting, Geneva propped on an elbow to watch the offensive weapon of war slide into her trench and she went ahhhhhh. She slowly pushed him off her, although his long dick connected in her and she raised a leg high and smiled and said, "Fuck me."

They finally collapsed into a heap, his cum sticking to her breasts and belly and he was sweating, thankfully more than she was.

"God what a marathon," she yawned, "but it was truly great. I feel totally fucked."

"Yeah well I would be troubled proceeding with Round 2 right now," he admitted manfully as they both stared at his limp and sticky cock.

"So I am to get more?" she asked hopefully.

"God yes," he leered. "You are an exceptionally good fuck."

When sufficiently recovered, Geneva fetched two glasses of juice and food for him and took him to bed.

Brody rose, showered and dressed and kissed her goodbye just after 5:00 next afternoon and he looked exhausted. He smiled and said, "As I praised you last night, you are an exceptionally good fuck."

Brady returned like a dog to a good bone for the next four nights and then lost interest in Geneva although they continue to occasionally see each other socially. Geneva wasn't unduly sorry to lose him because he had rather too much horsepower sexually for her comfort. But he'd made a huge contribution to her life, driving away the remnants of her lack of confidence.

She continued at the bookshop on weekdays and lunched everyday with Kitty who agreed with her it appeared that Brody had lost interest in Geneva.

"Should I talk to him?"

"God no."

"Yeah well I agree with that. It's not practical to try to turn a guy back on. If you get horny and no guy is around, give me a call."

They looked at one another and giggled when Geneva said to Kitty, "You must have had a wild time at college."

But she also clasped Kitty's hand and squeezed and said thanks for the offer. "You have become a dear friend to me Kitty."

Kitty gave Geneva a grateful look in response to that declaration of friendship and that made Geneva think, oh no, not another lonely woman despite having a husband. Well it was difficult for some women to make close friends and to keep working on such relationships when holding down a job and then going home to their second job.

Thelma finally found the experienced woman she wanted to manage book stocking and handle enquiries and had to declare Geneva redundant.

"I'm sorry," Thelma said, almost weeping.

But Geneva presented a cheerful smile and said she wasn't, that the work had been a useful stepping stone in the rebuilding of her life.

"It's time I moved on Thelma. I came here to regain emotional stability and that had occurred and you assisted in that, more substantially than what you might think because it helped get me back into routines and through adjustments arising from that I found I'm a night writer. I actually write better at night and in daytime. I have no idea why that is so but suspect I become more reflective when the city winds down amid darkness. I have had weekends off work but still write at nights."

Geneva handed in her notice of termination of occupancy of the apartment and there was no financial penalty because the management company had a number of people on the waiting list. The parting with Kitty was tearful, excruciatingly beautiful Geneva thought, much like a parting of lovers although they'd not touched in that manner but had developed a similar intimacy. It was so tragic.

But once on the flight to Denver, Geneva accepted Kitty was substantially a person belonging to her past although she was quite sure they'd meet again but briefly. The problem was in going to Denver was she would have to restart from scratch because she knew no one there. Then why go to Denver? Geneva smiled.'

She'd often based important decisions on instinct rather than logic or emotion. Emotion was something one felt whereas instinct was simple a thought from nowhere that arrived unexpectedly and had an air of urgency or compulsiveness to it. Although an instinctive though could be ignored there were times when Geneva chose not to do so. During her despair in England during the marital breakup Geneva had the thought she should go to Denver and that went back to sleep thinking of the mountains of Colorado. That's all there was to it.

But at school when she stumbled on a question during a test or exam, she often had a flash thought and would seize that. Often but not always it produced the correct answer.

Then going to college, after listening to the urgings of her student advisor that she should consider taking a science degree course had enrolled for a BSc but at the last minute changed to English Lit. Why? Because the thought came she would be one who'd succeeded as a novelist. 

She had a position lined up with a publishing house for when she finished college but opted out of that when the thought came she should tour Europe as part of her finishing education by gaining some experience of foreign cultures. She began that odyssey in Turkey and that certainly had been a cultural shock. She met and traveled here and there with other students and became skilled in bus travel sex. That wasn't a skill her mom would be proud to hear about but how many novelists knew anything about bus sex? Or knew that young people who toured internationally thought that bus sex was simply something more advanced that from-bus photography? The adjustment in thinking as the result of foreign travel had quite astonished Geneva.

Her odyssey had meant to finish in France but she never got there, at least not initially. Geneva began touring Ireland, crossed into Scotland and entered England via Wales. When in London she saw the headquarters of the parent company she'd intended working for in New York. She called the HR person she'd dealt with in America and the woman arranged to send the electronic copy of Geneva's application documents and her notes of her interview of Geneva to the HR department in London overnight and next morning Geneva went to that HR department.

And why had Geneva bothered to do that, terrifying her mother she'd never see her daughter again and annoying her father who had arranged two promising jobs for her in Boston? Because being surprised to be standing looking up at the company's name on that building, Geneva had the thought she should try to get a job there.

Was that decision to seek that job in London successful or unsuccessful? In Geneva's view it was still too early to decide. She began a career that would help her tremendously as a hopeful novelist. She worked and lived in a truly multi-cultural society. She ended up in a disastrous married tainting her as 'used goods', a divorcee at barely thirty-two, but she had come home battered and disillusioned -- again great experience for a novelist -- and clutching (figuratively) $3.76 million. 

Instinct of course was only just one influence in change in her life. It was chance she'd entered that bookshop in North Carolina and chance that she'd met Kitty who'd introduce her to Kitty's brother who'd delivered the most exhilarating sex of Geneva's adult life. Because of all of history, Geneva was confident her instinctive thought to settle in Denver would be the right one. She'd already leased an apartment off the Internet and had purchased and beautiful small holiday home in Florida to give her beach living contrast to big-city living whenever she required a breather.


Night Writer



Yes should could have purchased a cabin on the side of a remote lake to pound away at the keyboard in a dream environment many people would say would be just right for a creative novelist. Well she hadn't done that because she hadn't instinctively thought she ought to do that and she'd purchased the property in Florida simply because she'd long dreamed of having a beach house in Florida.

Geneva entered the airport terminal at Denver. Now in a novel this is where a handsome (yes that word was back) guy would bumped into her, giving her a dazzling apology and take her to bed after a sumptuous dinner.

Well it didn't happen that was at all. She certainly was bumped, but rudely, in the crush and she waited a long time in line for a cab. The cab driver was grumpy, the manager at the apartment signing her in kept yawning and she had pizza for dinner and cried and thought about that log cabin in Vermont. But then had the vision of a big beer-belly ranger ordering her to evacuate because rising flood waters would send crocodiles into her cabin. What crocodiles in America? No this guy wasn't a field ranger. In posters they were always slim and handsome. The ugly and fat ones pushed pens in offices or were managers. She looked out of the window and saw a line of refugees from Somalia waiting to occupy her cabin in idyllic wilderness. Oh god.

She wailed, "Come on you fool, get out of your emotional rut. You'd be no good alone a cabin and Denver is where you are supposed to be."

Geneva felt better and went out and bought a bottle of wine, ran a bath, and spent the evening sipping wine and flicking her toes in water, reflecting about her draft novel.

That turned out to be an amazing session. Geneva was horrified that although she'd written 88,000 words, a little over half the target size of her novel, nowhere had her heroine cried. What a cold-hearted bitch. 

There was no mention of Wanda's religion, political or lack of political leanings, that some of her shoes were too tight and some bras were too loose, she was prone to sniffing when alone and idle, she was always fucked by a guy, Wanda never fucked him, and her mom was always as nice as pie. Oh yeah! Did Wanda ever pass wind? Geneva had no idea and thought readers would be keen to give that a miss and ditto for the couple of times Wanda drunkenly peed her pants, although perhaps male readers might be enlightened by that.

There were other things missing including why did Wanda choose a black car, how many dents had she added to the car's bodywork, could you change a tire, what were her supermarket practices, how many times a week did she wash here hair, what did she really wish to do with her life, what did she want out of life, what were her worst fears, had she ever smoked pot, did she smoke, it was often stated she cooked and what she cooked but what were her favorite things to cook and her favorites when eating out, and how often did she go to the hairdresser and what did she and the hairdresser talk about?

Oh god, Wanda was a cardboard cutout and only emoted when having sex or not finding what she wanted when shopping or some asshole mistreated her. Oh god. Geneva couldn't believe it. She'd devised a great storyline, in her opinion, and had worked diligently on setting and pace and unfolding the story with appropriate bursts up upscale action or drama to keep readers awake. But where was character detailing and development? The world she was portraying was inhabited by zombies. And what did Wanda want from a man besides a plunging cock? Oh and she still wasn't sure about the name Wanda. 

Geneva laid back on her bed feeling frustrated that she'd been engaged in writing a reject novel. But at least she'd pulled up in time. She stretched a nipple and reached down and slid in a wetted finger and opened her legs wide. Well she might as well extract some pleasure from her first night in her new home.

The finger stroked in and out repeatedly and deliciously and wondered if boyfriends and partners/husbands knew there woman still enjoyed a quiet masturbation no matter how much attention they were getting.

Her jumbled thoughts smoothed out and her mood softened.

Geneva slid in a second finger and turned her hand over and sunk those fingers deeply to reach that area or maximum sensitivity and she circled that thumb around her clit while using the other hand to squeeze her left breast softly.

Hmmm. This was so good.

She worked at it slowly, having no reason to finish in a rush. At times like this she really felt in love with her body and if it became hard going she wasn't shy about wriggling a moist finger on her other hand into her butt. But there was no need to increase sensations tonight because already she was running hot.

Geneva's breast and pussy became even more swollen and her breathing rate increased.

"It will be a big squirt from you tonight little darling," she cooed. 

And that was true.

Finally Geneva felt the need to up tempo, added another finger and plunged them in and out into the increasingly sloppy environment down there. Her breathing raced and she now rubbed the nub of her clit with that thumb. 

Her temperature momentarily soared and her blood pounded and she hauled up her hand to thrust her juice-soaked fingers into her mouth and bit on them lightly to muffle her scream as she climaxed, feeling wave after wave of pleasurable feeling and as those feeling subsided Geneva became aware of increased fluid seeping out and running over her thighs towards the towel she'd remembered to place there. 

She padded to the bathroom, feeling at peace, and yawned, "No writing for you tonight." 

During the night she awoke, a name being shouted having disturbed her sleep.

She went to the second bedroom, booted her laptop and used the find and replace facility in MS Word to change the name of her heroine to the name that had awoken her, Lydia. While she was at it she changed all references of her hero's name from Charles back to her original selection of Rogan. She then returned to bed and slept soundly, knowing she had a great deal of rewriting to do.

Late next morning Geneva was editing her draft, inserting more descriptive wording to reveal more of her heroine Lydia's character.

Oh no. She'd come to a bit about dressing to go out to dinner where she now wanted to name Lydia's shoe size to be more descriptive about her heroine. Geneva and some other female friends she'd known were 9s. Her smaller mom could squeeze into 7s but was more comfortable in 7.5s. Geneva sighed and thought go for a number. She stated that Lydia (5 ft. 8 in with a dress size of 10) 'pulled her size 8 shiny black pumps, brushing back her blonde fringe each time it fell forward, making her think putting on shoes was a task requiring three hands. She joked to herself perhaps growing her hair longer and tying it in a ponytail would be more practical than attempting to have a third arm and hand implant.

Geneva the writer smiled, thinking another hurdle had been negotiated. She paused to consider what she would choose as Lydia's sexual position. Perhaps she should ask Lydia? Geneva laughed and believed she should take a break from editing before she began attempting to talk to Lydia. 

* * * 

After spending three days looking around Denver and going to a couple of movies because she'd decided to remain a night rider, Geneva thought to was time to register as a couple of job placement agencies after lunch. She went to a cafe near one of the agencies for lunch and ordered meatballs and a glass of light red wine.

The place was crowded and a fat guy wearing glasses paused tentatively at her table and said, "Tables are tight Miss, would you please allow me to sit at your table."

"Yes of course. This must be a popular café to be so crowded?"

"Indeed," he said, but without saying why. "That observation suggests you are new to this part of the city or even to Denver."

"Yes I arrived three days ago from near the south-east coast. My name is Geneva Graham."

"Hi I'm Miles Williams-Jones."

"With hyphenation?"

"Yes but call me Miles. What do you do Geneva?"

"Well at present I'm doing something you've never heard of?"

"Hooker?" he laughed and she giggled and said no.

"Phew I took a bit of a risk there," he said.

"But you laughed. I'm attempting to write a novel."

"Then you are a writer until you get published and then you could call yourself a novelist but prudently only after three novels. I know people who are both and so don't understand why you think I wouldn't know what a writer or a novelist is?"

"Well it's slightly more complicated than that. I've found I write best after nightfall when everything around me begins to rumble less and I guess also my mind becomes more creative. So I call myself a night writer. I didn't think anyone would know what a night writer was."

"Oh I see. So what do you do during the day?"

"Well I'm about to register with a couple of job placement agencies to get part-time employment."

Geneva's meatballs arrived with her red wine and another waitress arrived with his red wine.

"You start Geneva."

"I'll wait for a minute or two. Cheers."

They sipped their wine.

Miles asked what her job preference was.

"In publishing. I've noticed there are a number of publishers based here. I've had publishing experience."

Miles sniffed his wine and said, "In what capacity?"

"I started as a copy editor, went on to become an editor's assistant and then spent my last three years working as one of the assistants to the acquisition editor."

"That sounds like considerable experience?"

"Yes some years, oh and one of the assistant editor jobs was working with the production editor," she said, as Miles' meatballs arrived.

They began eating.

"Cor these really are meatballs."

"Well that's the reason why many regulars like me come here. May I ask where did you pick up that expression 'cor'?"

"In London where I worked. It was used quite frequently."

"What you worked in publishing in London, I mean in central London, The City?"

"Yes. Are you in publishing?"

"Yes."

"Now don't lie to me Miles," she giggled and he smiled and asked who she had worked for in London.

"Shrimp, Angus & McLaren."

"Jesus."

"Oh so you know them?"

Miles said he knew of them, that SA&M specialized in technical books internationally and children's and historic novels mainly for sale in Great Britain and Ireland.

"You are well informed. I worked in the novels division."

The conversation shifted and they talked on happily and eventually it was time to go.

They shook hands and Miles handed Geneva his business card.

"I'd like you to be in my office at 9:30 tomorrow morning with you CV, references and anything else you wish. The only position we have vacant should suit you; it's 10:00 to 3:00 each weekday tutoring editing staff one-on-one up to but excluding those in full editor positions. They all have at least a BA but need to up-skill to real world editing and have someone with the time to explain where they are going wrong."

Geneva said, "You mean a skills upgrading tutor?"

"Yes exactly."

"And is it true that position didn't exist until less than an hour ago."

Miles rubbed his ear and admitted that was true.

"Then why are you doing this?"

"It's simple... good people are difficult to find. We have some people who don't quite jump the bar. They are not too bad because if they were they'd be fired. My mother who is company chairman and I, and others of course, believe our output should be A1. Standards have slipped a little in publishing in recent years because, as I indicated, good people who perform to extremely high standards have become difficult to find. I need to check your credentials and in all probability I shall offer you a three-month contract. By then an editing position that suits you may have become vacant."

"Well Miles, I am interested. I have a MA in English Lit from Boston but have no teaching qualifications although I have tutored my assistants during the past four years in instruction you have just spoken about. So let me get my CV and references to you and we can take it from there."

Next morning, ninety minutes after walking into the offices of Footprint Book Publishers, Geneva left the building hired on six-month contract as Senior Editing Tutor and signed on and completed all formalities and would begin work next morning at 10:00.

Geneva walked up the street a bit and entered a coffee shop and ordering coffee and a slice of lemon tart sat outside in the sunshine, amazed how quickly things had moved for her in the past twenty-one hours since Miles had stood at the café table and had asked if he could share the table because all others were taken.

Miles as Footprint's CEO didn't hire her; he correctly left that to Donna Williams-Jones, his wife and executive editor, who had coffee served while she read the personal file Geneva had given her. Donna then conducted the interview with Miles asking a question and commenting twice.

Sitting outside the coffee shop, Geneva thought the whole thing seemed rather bizarre that began the previous day at lunch when Miles, learning she'd been in publishing, didn't initially say he worked for a publisher and then later plucked the prospect of a job for her out of the blue. And then today, why hadn't she been alone in Donna's office for the interview? It was a senior appointment but not with the ranking of executive officer as she would have expected if, for example, she'd been interviewed for Donna's position.

"Omigod," Geneva breathed. "Perhaps that was it. Miles was in his mid-fifties so that meant mommy, as chairman, could be at least seventy-five. Miles may have thought Geneva with her London experience with a publisher at least five times larger than Footprint should be interviewed as the as heir to Donna's chair when Donna was appointed CEO when Miles replaced his mom as chairman, probably taking the title of executive chairman.

Could it be that?

Geneva, who liked to think she was well developed as a creative thinker, thought yes it was a possibility.

If that was a possibility, then it was an odd way of going about it. It would be almost immoral in fact having her under surveillance as a tutor as a candidate for a much higher role and without declaring their hand to Geneva. 

After signing on, Geneva thought it strange that she hadn't been introduced to senior staff. Well so much for theory, she mightn't accept the role of executive editor if offered to her anyway because it would be fulltime, giving her little chance to rest up before she began night writing.

Hey whoa, this was all speculative bullshit.

Geneva had rented a car for a week to give herself time to by choosing about the vehicle she would buy. She'd left the car in a nearby parking station. Oh crap, what was the make of the car again? She'd forgotten but remembered it was dark red. She entered the fifth level and found about one-third of the parked vehicles were some shade of red.

Oh crap.

She walked door one side of the building, pressing her key remote and lo, at the fourth press of the device the lights of a red car lit up. That find was confirmed when the key in her hand started the ignition. God little wonder some men thought women were stupid about cars. A guy who rented a vehicle when she did would have memorized the make, model, plate ID, how many thingies it had to shift manually and the type of wheel trims. On the other hand some men would have trouble finding the parking station where they'd left their vehicle.

Geneva went under her apartment building to park, remembering her space number, only to find a guy had parked there are was just getting out of his Corvette.

She slammed the car horn.

He smiled and waved.

She hit the horn again and he smiled and came over, peering through the windscreen as if attempting to recognize her (without lifting his sunglasses of course, not that would have helped).

"Good morning ma'am," said the good-looking hunk. "Are you lost or have you forgotten your apartment number?"

"Pardon me," Geneva said guiltily, having been too busy checking him out to have heard the question.

"Have you forgotten your apartment number?"

"No but obviously you have," she said icily.

He said, sounding surprised, "What has 2404 been rented?"

"Yes and that area marked 2404 is my designated parking space."

He grinned and said well that was surprise. The next apartment to his mother's had been empty for weeks.

"I understand it was being renovated," she said stiffly. "Then that work finished and I came along."

He said in that case she probably wanted him to shift his vehicle.

"I did have that thought in mind."

He grinned and said she was very good looking and a touch of indignation colored her cheeks nicely. He saluted and walked back to his car and Geneva reversed her vehicle clear and fumed what an insolent asshole.

He drove off waving and she parked, thudding the front wheels against the stop to prevent vehicles ramming the concrete wall.

She sighed.

Geneva entered the lobby and found Asshole was standing astride the doors to hold the elevator.

"Thanks, you are a gentleman," she said creatively.

He smiled and said he'd bet her opinion of him would have change from that in the underground garage.

She blushed and made no effort to hide that. He grinned.

"So you are Mrs Mason's son?"

"Yes, the younger of her two children."

"I'm Geneva Graham."

"Oh hi Geneva, I'm James Mason but calling me Jim is okay. And what does Geneva do?"

"She's a night writer."

"I'm afraid I don't understand..."

"I write at nights."

"What you write books?"

"I'm attempting to write a novel yes, my first attempt." 

They left the elevator at the 24th and he said, "Hand me your keycard."

Geneva did that meekly and then wondered hotly why had she done that.

She watched James unlock her door and he stood back and handed the card back to her.

"I can't keep my eyes off you."

What?

"In that case you may need to have your eyes tested," she said sweetly and glided in and closed the door, her heart shifting up a gear. He was rather dishy.

Her doorbell went.

She opened the door and looked at him.

"Well you meet me at the bar across the street from her at 5:30 this evening for a drink?"

"Yes and thanks for that neighborly offer James. Bye."

She closed the door and leaned against it, heart pumping. God, what a great way to meet a guy keen to have sex with her. 

* * * Geneva had just sat at the bar when James arrived and attracted the attention of the bartender. She chose vodka on the rocks and wondered why James hadn't knocked on the door of her apartment and gone down the elevator with her. 

He asked how her day had been and she said uneventful apart from getting a part-time job and they talked about that. He said the traffic from his office had been heavy and he apologized for being a couple of minutes late.

"I should have been here to greet you."

"Oooh," she laughed and could see he liked that.

"My impression of your mother is she's a very lovely lady."

"Thanks, I like you saying that. Believe me, she said the same thing about you and suggested I date you."

"Oh really? Then I must assume you're not married."

"Not any longer," he said. "I'm looking and progress is negligible."

Oh dear, Geneva sighed to herself. At this rate it could easily be 2:00 am before he pushed into her. Obviously he was the type of guy a first-date girl had to work on.

"You didn't kiss me when you arrived and you forget to whisper nice breasts."

His eyes widened and focused on her breasts momentarily.

She waited. 

James' head jerked up and he eyed her.

He pulled her to him and they kissed slightly opened mouthed and he dropped a palm over a breast and whispered "Great tits" and bit the ear lobe before sitting back upright on his stool.




Night Writer



She added further encouragement. "That was lovely James. I've been missing male attention."

Geneva left it to James to work out what kind of attention had she meant. She deliberated hitched up her short skirt a bit and widened the gap between her knees in case he needed a clue. She assumed he'd think she was a slut if she told him what she wanted.

They chatted and learned more about each other.

James was an attorney, the son of an attorney and they'd lived in a city sixty miles from Denver. Shortly after the wedding of James' older sister Helena and during his final year at law school, his father was killed in a road accident. After the insurance payout his mother sold the family home and purchased the penthouse she now occupied. Helena now lived with her husband and two children on a ranch north-west of Denver and James shared an apartment in Denver with another male attorney, also a divorcee.

"Um mom is expecting us for dinner this evening."

"Are you sure? Ooops, sorry, of course you are."

He grinned and said yes his mom had suggested it.

An hour after dinner, James rose and said he must go because he had a complicated brief to read before meeting a client at 8:00 in morning.

"You start your job in the morning so an early night for you Geneva."

He kissed them both and left behind a very disappointed young woman.

"I'll help you with the dishes Mrs Mason."

Mrs Mason said that wasn't necessary but Geneva in insisted and found his hostess to be very interesting. She'd gained an MBA in Human Resource Management and had worked in the law firm where her husband-to-be worked. They courted and married and he was managing partner in the firm at the time of his death. Her husband had insurance against accidental death and she'd received a large payout and had decided not to work again. She was 'seeing' a married man around her age who was legally separated from his wife.

"What do you think about me being that naughty dear?"

"I say bravo but proceed with care if you become serious. You need to be sure about the reasons for your new man's reasons for the marital break-up."

"You are very wise dear. That's what James advised and both of you have reinforced my thinking. Look we are neighbors now, please call me Fiona. I must say I really like you"

Geneva crossed the hallway to her apartment a little unhappy. Fiona liked her but what about her son?

Her questioned was answered at 10:30 when he called.

"Hi I hope it's not too late to call?"

"Not from you. Where are you?"

He sounded like a small boy caught out and said he'd finished working and had gone walking to clear his head and found himself outside her apartment building and without thinking called.

"Come on up."

"Um mom would be disappointed if she found out I didn't drop in on her."

"I'll shift to another apartment building tomorrow."

He laughed and said that wouldn't be necessary. He had exaggerated his concern about his mother; she would be asleep.

"Punch in 9228 on the touchpad and come on up. I'll brush my teeth and get ready for sex."

"Um Geneva..."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Arrive here with a full-powered erection James. I'm really hanging out for it, feeling I've been neglected far too long."

"Um I don't have condoms with me."

"But I do. Come galloping too me James waving a full erection ready to be plunged into me. Writing is not the only thing I engage in better at night."

Geneva heard him beginning to breathe heavier and smiled.

THE END