I'm teasing from my WIP. No name as yet, except the working title is Lindsey's story
When Lyndsey is asked by her boss, the mysterious Darke, to take the night receptionist’s job at a glass factory she wonders what is going on.
She soon finds out.
There’s a standing joke around the factory. Don’t piss off the furnace man. He can mix you with the (Composite) and burn you. There won’t be anything left to discover.
But Lindsey has to do her job... and hope she misses the fire. Can Michael help her, or will he crash and burn as well?
your #MidWeekTease (unedited word vomit)
Shit and hellfire. Why did she fell like crap again? Why was the earth moving? And why did she hate the word why? If it were possible Lindsey would have sniggered. Why was the one word that rarely got a straightforward reply, it was longer than she cared to remember since the earth had moved for her, and it was unlikely that was this her lucky day. Was she at last getting some… Her brain began to function. Why was her bed on a slant and her pillow both soft and rock hard. Almost like a shoulder.
A shoulder. Not a pillow a shoulder. What the hell? With difficulty Lindsey opened her eyes. Darkness. Pitch black darkness. Like a velvet shroud.
Nope. Do not think of shrouds.
However, darkness? She couldn’t have slept until it was night time surely? And she had to be at work and be on the look out for dead bodies… Dead Bodies.
Voices filtered into her consciousness. Something about pigs and who was on duty. Someone laughed, and it wasn’t a pleasant sound.
“Pigs, and Mac I think.”
Another voice this time; one she didn’t recognize. A hint of a scots accent maybe? The only person she’d met in the organization with that accent was Darke and that was definitely not him.
“He was just saying they were in need of fresh meat.”
“This meat is rotten to the core,” Michael said with a hint of laughter in the timbre of his voice. “Poor pigs.”
“Ach, they’ll eat anything fresh, you know them.”
Pigs? Fresh meat? God; am I in a horror film and no one’s told me? Lindsey moaned and tried to see. Something was covering her eyes surely? It couldn’t be pitch black. Not in England. Street lights, shops, Traffic lights, light pollution. Even in the country there was always a glow from somewhere.
“Hold on.” The voice was familiar and definitely who she thought it was.
“Michael.” She made sure it wasn’t a question. The events of what she assumed was the previous night came rushing back to her. “What’s going on?” She did her best to move her arms, and found that they wouldn’t cooperate. “What have you done to me? Sir, we don’t play like this, I’m red…” her voice trailed off as someone snorted with laughter.
“Fuck you,” Lindsey said clearly and defiantly as she realized what she’d said. “We don’t play at all,” she said flatly. “We aren’t a ‘we’ any more.” In truth she wondered if, apart from BDSM they ever had been. There they had meshed in every way possible. Outside their play…she mentally shrugged. What time they had spent together had at first been good. Then as it got less and less and Michael got ever more secretive, suspicion crept in.
It hadn’t taken long for their play to stop and she issue her ultimatum.
Do not go there. It’s over. Concentrate on now and why.
Somewhere a less arsy chuckle was cut off abruptly. Then she heard a third voice murmur. “That’s your dom cred down the toilet then, mate.”
Who else was with them? Or should that be how many who elses?
“Lins, If you give me five minutes I’ll untie you,” Michael said briskly in a no nonsense way.
No pet for now then. Should that make her happy or sad? Lindsey couldn’t fathom that one out.
“Until we get round this corner,” he added. “And, yeah here we are.” The car, she assumed it was a car, slowed, and her shoulder pillow moved so her cheek rested on a leather headrest
“Oh good,” she said sarcastically. “Now if only I knew where here was I could rest happy.”
There was that arsy snort gain. “Pigs in the car are there?” she said sweetly. “Oink, snort and all that.”
“Enough.” That was his Dom’s voice. “Politeness is preferable.”
“Politeness has to be earned,” She said snippily. “No earning as far as I can hear.”
She could almost feel his glare, and she shivered. Why was she goading him for a reaction? Would she never learn?
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love Raven x