Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 104138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Bingo. I scan my murky brain for his name but only manage to come up with a memory of him kneeling on my office floor while I rammed my dick down his throat. Whatever his name is, he’s a done deal already. If I remember rightly, I owe him a fuck anyway, so I jump down from the podium, stumbling when my feet hit the floor and losing sight of the redhead in the process.
Fuck. I feel dizzy. Sick. I look around and the dancing bodies surrounding me have blurred into fuzzy blocks of colour. I need some air, maybe a smoke, so I weave my way through the crowd until I see the orange glow of a streetlight shining through an open door. I knock into several people as I make my way outside. They yell at me, but I don’t hear what they say.
My legs feel weak, wobbling under the weight of my body, so I cross the cobbled street and use the wall guarding the canal for support. Grabbing it with both hands, I tip my head back and relish the cold air that blankets my flushed face. It feels good. I close my eyes, concentrating on the direction of the breeze. Although lightheaded, I feel fucking amazing. A rush of ideas for the business flood my brain and I need to go home and write them all down before my head bursts under the pressure.
“Hey.”
“Mmm,” I murmur. His voice is beautiful. Calming. But I’m drunk and convince myself I’ve imagined it.
“Are you okay?”
I feel like I’m floating as I turn around. When I see Theodore’s stunning face staring back at me, I wonder if I’ve passed out and I’m dreaming about him. He looks concerned, his brow furrowed as he steps towards me.
He places a gentle hand on my shoulder and I press my lips to it, smiling against his flesh. His skin is cool, refreshing, and I rub my cheek over it. “Are you okay?” he repeats, his voice urgent.
“I will be if you let me fuck you,” I say, pressing my chest to his and kissing along his jaw. He tries to push me away, but I’m insistent, grabbing at his dick through his pants.
“Stop!” he roars, wedging his hands between our bodies and forcing me away.
I trip over my own feet and smack my back on the wall. “Fuck you,” I snap, glowering at him.
“What’s wrong with you? I saw you in the club and… this, this isn’t you.”
“You don’t fucking know me.” My words are slurred but it doesn’t stop me talking. “You don’t know anything about me.” Nobody does.
“I know you’ve had too much to drink. Let me get you to the taxi rank.”
I stop listening, too fascinated by the ripples in the canal below me. I’m too hot. I bet that water is cool, though. It entices me. I want to feel it on my skin.
“What the…” I think Theodore is talking but I’ve lost interest in him. He doesn’t want me to fuck him? Fine. There’s no reason for him to still be here. “What the fuck are you doing?”
It feels like something is caught on my shirt but I push past the resistance and hitch a second foot onto the wall. I’m crouched down, balancing, about to stand when suddenly I feel pressure around my waist.
I fall backwards, landing with a thud onto the hard ground. My eyes are open but all I can see are lights and a blurred face. A shock of pain registers and I think it’s coming from my wrist. Or maybe my neck. My back hurts, too. Or is it my head?
“What the hell are you playing at?” I know that voice. That’s Theodore’s voice. It makes me smile. I wonder if he’s the fuzzy face hovering over me. I reach out to touch it but the figure disappears.
There’s some kind of commotion occurring around me. I hear lots of different voices, but I focus on Theodore’s. “Call an ambulance,” he says. “I think he’s taken something.”
“I just wanted to cool down,” I say, wondering what all the fuss is about.
The blurry face returns and I try to bring it into focus but I’m too tired. “Shit. You’re bleeding.”
Who’s bleeding?
He can’t mean me because I feel fine. To prove it, I scramble into a sitting position, or I try to, but the fuzzy face that sounds like Theodore lowers me back down.
“Help is coming. You’ve hurt your head. Don’t move.”
His unnecessary concern angers me and I push myself back up. “I’m fine.” Jesus. What’s the big deal? Defiant, I crawl up onto my knees, preparing to stand. Theodore’s face becomes clear and I look him straight in the eye. “See?”
That’s the last thing I remember before everything turns black.
**********
I wake up in an ambulance. “What’s going on?” I ask, scanning my surroundings. I spot Theodore sitting on a foldout chair beside me. “Why are you here?”
“You-”
“Damn. I forgot to call Helen to arrange a meeting on Monday. Where’s my phone?” I try to lift my head but it’s stuck. “I need my phone. Theodore, give me your phone. Wait…is it Monday or Tuesday? I think I’m booked through Monday. Best make it Tuesday. Where are you taking me?”
“Mr Hol-”
“Theodore, phone!” I demand. Why is no fucker listening to me? I try to reach out but my arms are stuck, too. “I’ve got so many new ideas right now. I need to get home and draw up some plans. I’ll email them to Helen as well. Where’s my phone?”
“Mr Holden,” a guy in a green uniform says, his voice deep and authoritative. I don’t like him already. “I need you to tell me if you’ve taken anything.”
I struggle against the restraints. “Why can’t I move? Get these damn straps off me.”
“Sir, I need you to calm down for me.”
“Yeah? Well I need to get out of this fucking ambulance. I have work to do! Theodore, dammit, where’s your fucking phone?”
I’m trying to kick, punch, wriggle… anything that will give me enough leverage to pull myself up. I’m too hot. I’m too cold. I’m fucking angry. Why’ve they put me in here?