Sparks

Chapter 10

Ten

Two months later, I found myself sitting behind a spotless glass desk in a prestigious London office. I was dressed in an immaculate black suit and bored out of my mind with paperwork. Miss Sharkey (appropriately named – or should that have been Snarky?) had decided to keep an eye on me before she agreed to clear me for field duty, and I had to admit that I was as close as I'd ever been to having my sturdy rod of control snapped in half. Filing in chronological order should have been declared a modern-day torture method. Seriously, I'd take waterboarding over the past three weeks of hell I'd been forced to endure. The inactivity was killing me, the coffee sucked, and the work was mind-numbingly dull. Faxing, copying, redirecting telephone calls, typing, spreadsheets, and more of the same came my way daily. The eight-hour workday suddenly morphed into a suffocating prison sentence with seemingly no end in sight. I couldn't help but wonder if they were actively trying to court my resignation. There was no way I could take much more of this. How did people do this every day?

There was only one thing that managed to keep me sane at the moment, and interestingly enough it was driving me insane at the same time. Infuriatingly, I could not get James Leverett out of my head. Whilst work had given me a virtual lobotomy as of late, James had given my libido a kick-start that a Ducati would have been proud of. I now wanted to jump everything that moved, although I somehow kept a lid on the idea. Vanilla sex probably wasn't going to cut it anymore after our session, and I'd seriously considered booking another appointment with the man. Neither my pride nor my willpower would allow me to do so, but the daydream stayed alive through the dreary drudge of administrative work that continued to flow my way. Finding myself reliving our afternoon over and over again, it was with a wan smile that I acknowledged Miss Sharkey's sudden presence in my office.

"Lois." Her fake smile of greeting sent shards of permafrost through me. In her designer heels, she stood a couple of inches higher than me, but that hadn't intimidated me as of yet.

Lifting her neck high, her brown eyes bore down, assessing me yet again. She played this game at least five or six times a day, and it was wearing thin. I was not going to break down, nor had I ever broken down, except after my session with James a few weeks ago, and she didn't need to know about that. I had no idea what she was waiting for, and clearly she wasn't about to tell me. Short of praying daily that she was struck down by lightning, there wasn't a lot else I could do if I wanted to keep my job, and I needed it. Losing that would be unbearable, unless I was forced to join the ranks of admin, and if that was the case, then I'd rather she just shot me now. Even Hari Kari had to be better than enduring this on a daily basis.

Standing up, I gathered the heap of files she had given me that morning and reeled them off one by one for her. "I've typed up the interview for Randall vs. Lacey, twenty interview questionnaires have been sent out as per your request, the stockroom inventory has been completed, and I've found and corrected an error in your spreadsheet for employee pension contributions." I returned her fake smile with one of my own and shoved the files across my desk to her.

"My, you have been busy this morning," she said, giving me one of her favourable looks. I did not care for it.

"Not particularly. I twiddled my thumbs for at least an hour, watered all the office plants, and am now experimenting with baking." There was a definite acerbic quality to my voice.

"Baking?" Miss Sharkey looked perplexed. Score one for me.

"Apparently you can bake a chocolate cake in a cup. Who knew? I intend to have it for my lunch break, to cheer myself up." I was going to lose my job, but I didn't care. There had to be someone else in the world who'd want me and my dubious talents.

"We don't have an oven." Her frosty demeanour was replaced by confusion, and it was a better look than the pitying glances I'd been treated to as of late.