Tick Tock... Time Off

I let my mind wander. I would relish putting Cas through her paces…

I hold this story very close to my heart. I’m not entirely sure why—perhaps because, as a writer, I felt I’d taken a step forward while working on it.

The idea came easily, but the writing didn’t flow straight away. There’s a lot of dialogue in this one, and I wanted to be sure both characters had a distinct voice.

I also needed to pin down the ending from the start—nail it to the wall—so that came first, and the rest of the story followed.

It’s intense and erotic, without containing any sex. The atmosphere is thick with tension, desire, and more.

It’s the kind of story that doesn’t tend to fare well on Medium, where anything even slightly erotic gets censored without regard for the bigger picture. And this tale has a very big picture to share.

One last thing. I wrote it spare - making sure every single word counted.

Image by Khusen Rustamov from Pixabay

Preoccupied, I jumped into the lift, one thumb pressing send on a work text at 17:45. The other hit the button marked ‘gym.’ I was still reeling from meeting Taylor, my boss. He’d explained that top-drawer broker accounts usually went to the Oxbridge crew, but all the hard work I’d put in had earned me this big chance.

Of course, what he really meant was working-class heroes like me don’t normally get a look-in. I’d grown up with my Mum, on a Catford council estate. Won a place at the local grammar school, then Durham University — one of the best.

After two bottles of Moët, we snorted a line. Putting an arm around me he enthused, “I’m depending on you, son.”

I was still processing this when with a shuddering jolt, the lights flickered and the lift ground to a halt. I was propelled forward right onto the steel doors.

Then, nothing…

Next thing I knew sweat crept down my temples. Light-headed, I inhaled as the dull thud of my heart echoed in my ears. In the grim dark I found my phone and clicked torch. Time — 17:55.

The small space lit up.

I turned… and saw her.

“Hello.”

“What? Fuck.” Was all I managed in a reply as I clasped at my forehead, dizzy and disorientated.

“The lift jammed between floors. Are you alright?” She sounded concerned.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m OK.” I lied.