If Wishes Were Horses 3

Today’s word count: 1857              Total word count: 5523     

Fortunately my desk is in a kind of alcove so I have a bit of privacy from everyone else. Most of us have these little cubby holes because the management think we work harder without distractions, but in fact it means we can get on with all kinds of personal things without many people being able to see. And the few people who can view our screens are so busy doing their own business that they’re too engrossed to bother about anyone else’s.  So it was easy that morning to coast along without contributing much work. We’re an insurance company and I work in the assessor’s department, so there is a deal of paper shuffling, back and forth, where not much happens except form circulation Eventually someone will take pity on a client and progress a claim for a stage or two, but most of them have been around the office a few times before the insuree sees any cash, and the majority make several circuits before being refused and sent back to the injured party with a polite letter explaining how it’s their fault that we won’t pay out, even though they made every payment on time and believed they were fully insured for the event. There’s always something in the small print we can get them on. If you ever have a successful insurance claim you’d better believe you are a very, very lucky person in a tiny minority.

So that morning I took life very casually, picking up an occasional sheet of paper, staring intently at it for a second or two, then entering something into my computer. Once or twice I gathered a bundle of papers together and straightened them into a pack by tapping them on the desk, just to make it seem like I was being productive. I wasn’t, of course, and my boredom level eventually took over. I even fell asleep at my desk for a while. In fact all was going extremely well until I came to my senses in response to a loud cough from somewhere above my head. I opened my eyes to see one of our sales directors looming over me with a particularly unfriendly expression on his face. 

“Short of sleep are we, Miss Fry?”

“Actually sir I’m…..”

“I believe you were asleep at your desk. Is that what we pay you for?”

“I’m sorry sir. You see I’ve got this…..”

“I don’t want to hear excuses. Why are you slacking in this way?”

It was just my luck that the ugly old man would choose the moment I was napping to do his rounds.  Actually he’s really not that bad. He’s quite kind in his own way and he doesn’t often disturb us, but when he’s had a bad time from his bosses he turns up to make our lives hell in exchange. You know what they say about mushroom management – kept in the dark and fed on manure – well in our case it’s liquid fertiliser and it trickles downwards. 

Out loud I said, “I really am sorry sir but I have a migraine. I’ve been trying to get rid of it all weekend” but inside I thought, “Oh go play on a railway line you stupid old twit”. At that moment the inside of my skull gave a specially hard thump and the headache came back with a vengeance. It must have shown on my face because his expression softened and he told me to report the illness to HR, then take the rest of the day off. “Maybe he’s a sufferer,” I thought, “Most people aren’t so sympathetic.” But all I said was, “Thank you, Mr Elliott.” And I did what I was told. 

By the time I arrived home I felt much better, but I decided to take care anyway, and I went back to bed and slept off the rest of the pain. I must have needed it because I didn’t wake up until the next morning, and I went through my usual routine looking forward to work for once, having missed the dreadful Monday almost entirely and with just four days left to go to next weekend.  There are some advantages in having migraines.

Tuesday morning began much the same way that Monday had with my pal Minty rushing over to me to offer condolences and sympathy for my headache and hopes for my future well being. This morning her hair was wound around her head in loops that spiralled their way upwards and joined in a top knot on the very apex of her head. The strands were secured in place with a large plastic grip in the form of an orange butterfly. I hadn’t the heart to tell her it clashed badly with her colouring, and I doubt if she would have taken too much notice even if I had.  Minty is as Minty wants to be: hang what anyone else thinks, and I wouldn’t expect her ever to change. She really is a dynamo and once she’s wound up she’s hard to stop. Almost as soon as her duty inquiries about my health were finished she launched into her next topic.

“Don’t look now but have you seen the beautiful looking guy who’s here with the auditors this morning. He’s a real reason to make your pulse beat faster.”

I glanced over in the direction she was looking. “Don’t look, don’t look. You’ll make it obvious. Be a bit more subtle than that!”

I made as if to reach a plastic cup from under the water dispenser so that I could be more surreptitious about it. I’d never make a spy. I feel so clumsy whenever anyone starts a sentence with ‘don’t look now’ because I immediately react and look straight over to where I shouldn’t.  Even with the sideways glances I was giving the new man I thought he couldn’t fail to notice, but he stood side-on to me, talking to one of the older auditors and obviously deep in discussions about a sheaf of papers he held in his hand.  That gave me chance to make a better inspection and Minty was absolutely right. Our new, young auditor was exactly what every woman would wish for. Tall without being lanky; soft, dark hair with a kind of wave that fell over his face, that he brushed absent-mindedly away from his eyes as he spoke; well dressed in very smart jeans and a shirt that showed off just the right amount of muscle in his arms and his broad shoulders; and his face had a movie star quality. He was probably very photogenic. His eyelashes were thick, dark, long and shaded startlingly green eyes.  “Oh yes, I wouldn’t mind a go at that,” I thought. Just then I felt a brief twinge at the back of my neck. “Oh no,” I said.

“What’s the matter, do you know him?” Minty asked.

“No, no, it’s just a bit of a remainder of my migraine. I thought it was completely gone, but obviously not.  I’ll take it easy and see how it goes. I should be OK.”

But now she came to mention it, Auditor Man did look vaguely familiar. Perhaps it was because of his star-quality looks, but I was sure I had seen him somewhere before, I just couldn’t quite place him. 

“Ssssssshhhh!” Minty hissed, “He’s looking over here. Look away, look away!” But I was still staring his way when he turned his head and caught my gaze. I think I blushed, and he gave me the cutest, coy look with a kind of half smile that made him even more handsome, if that was possible. 

“Wow, I think you might have cracked that one,” Minty said, “He gave you a proper come-on smile then. You lucky cow!” 

Adonis Auditor now turned slowly away from us, but I had the clear sensation that he knew we were still watching as he stood with his back towards us. From that angle I had my first glimpse of his perfectly rounded, sexy bottom, and as if to confirm my suspicions, his buttocks made a single, tight clenching signal and then relaxed. To my side I heard Minty sigh. It was exactly like one of those soft drinks ads where the office women watch a tanned and slightly sweaty workman take off his shirt. 

“Pull yourself together,” I said to her, “It’s just a man.”

“Yes, but what a man,” her voice had a husky tone to it and she had a strange look in her eye, almost as if she was hypnotised, or even bewitched. 

“Oh Minty! Are you ever planning on reaching adulthood?”

“He could help me with that,” she replied, and we both laughed and set off to our own cubicles. I had every intention of doing real work this morning, since I’d missed a whole day on Monday. I settled down to review some claims, making much the same movements and sounds as I had the day before, but this time my computer entries were genuine, and the papers moved into the next stage in the system, rather than back around to my in tray. 

Mid morning a message flashed up on my screen. Our computers allow the management to issue statements to individuals, departments, or the whole building when they need to communicate. It’s considered more effective than face to face, because you have to switch each one off automatically and the system records that you have done it. That way nobody can say they didn’t see the message.    It was a general announcement calling everyone immediately to a meeting in the break-out area at the centre of the building. There was a lot of chair scraping and muttering as everyone followed the order. This had to be something very important if we were all being called together. Maybe the company had gone broke and we were all out of work. There was a sombre tone as we all gathered, not helped by the sight of the managing director’s secretary Elaine, standing at the front of the room with a shocked expression and apparently suffering the after effects of crying. 

“I’m afraid we’ve had some very bad news”, she announced, “and the MD wanted you all to hear it together.”  There was a murmuring across the room and she help up one hand to quieten everyone.  “We’ve just been told that the sales director David Elliott was killed in an accident yesterday evening. He was taking a short cut, rather than using the foot bridge at the local railway station, and he was hit by a train as he walked across the line.” 

Everyone stared silently at Elaine, except for Auditor Man, who was looking directly at me, and smiling a very broad, toothy grin. I remembered my thoughts of yesterday when I silently told Mr Elliott to go play on a railway line, and now I knew exactly why the handsome accounts hunk looked so familiar.  There was no mistaking those pointed teeth. My genie was real, and he had granted my wish. As the realisation sank in, I passed out.