by L E May
INSPIRED BY NIGHT
L.E. May
Olivia Jones is a nerd. The computer programmer doesn’t get out much, preferring to spend her time playing video games and watching movies. While she is successful and intelligent, she is also anti-social and sexually naive. Steven Teller has just graduated and landed his dream job working for Olivia. He’s young, handsome, and full of enthusiasm. He’s eager to impress his new boss, but employment isn’t the only thing he wants from Olivia.
An online introduction to Steven’s friend, Chris Knight, leads the two of them to start exchanging flirtatious emails and instant messages and while his attention flatters Olivia, his personal questions both shock and intrigue her. It’s not long before Chris encourages Olivia to explore her body and her sexuality under his guidance. All the while, Steven’s feelings for her make themselves known, and Olivia is torn between the mysterious, enigmatic stranger she met online, and the charismatic young man right in front of her.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty one
Chapter Twenty two
Chapter Twenty three
Chapter Twenty four
Chapter Twenty five
Chapter Twenty six
Chapter Twenty seven
Chapter Twenty eight
Chapter Twenty nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty one
Chapter Thirty two
Chapter Thirty three
Chapter Thirty four
Chapter Thirty five
Chapter Thirty six
Chapter Thirty seven
Chapter Thirty eight
Chapter Thirty nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter One
August 2009
It was the knocking that woke me up: quiet at first, then more insistent. Who would want to speak to me at that hour? Hardly anyone ever called round; I sometimes wondered if anyone actually knew where I lived. If I died in my sleep no one would find me until the landlord came round to complain about late rent payments.
As I woke up fully, the knocking became louder and faster, interspersed with a gentle moaning noise. I groaned. My neighbour. I’d never met my neighbour but I knew more about her sexual desires than I knew of my own. I closed my eyes again and waited for the words. They were always the same: ‘Faster, oh yes! Yes, just like that, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.’
Sounds like he’s doing just that, love, I thought.
I don’t know what compelled me to lie in bed listening to my neighbour achieve her orgasm. Envy, perhaps? To say it had been a while was a major understatement – I was practically a born-again virgin. It had been so long since that door opened I was sure it had sealed over. It wasn’t that I didn’t get offers – well maybe not so much lately – but I was reasonably sure I could probably have had the varied, exciting sex life my neighbour enjoyed if I’d wanted to. I’d always found sex a bit awkward, though. I didn’t really like talking about it; I verged on the prudish and for the last few years I’d found it less stressful to just avoid it completely.
I dragged myself out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. I’m not much of a morning person and working for myself usually gave me the freedom to roll into work whenever I wanted, but I was officially becoming an employer and I wanted to make a good impression. Well, not a good impression as such, the right impression. Not that I had any idea what that meant, exactly. I figured it couldn’t hurt to be there before he arrived at least and appear as though I had this running a business thing down to a fine art.
I didn’t, of course. When I started out, I’d had no intention of running the type of business that employed people but my last job got quite a bit of attention and suddenly I was the hottest programmer in London. Seemed stupid to turn down the work when it could be contributing to my early retirement fund, or that little house in the country I’d been secretly dreaming about sharing with Mr Right. But I could only take on so much by myself, so it was time to bring in reinforcements.
It always took me a long time to get ready for work. It wasn’t that I took a great deal of care over my appearance, I could never be bothered doing anything with my hair, which is long and thick and hangs in that undecided limbo between straight and curly which borders frizzy. On a good day, I would throw my head upside down between my knees and scrunch a bit of spiral curl serum into the tresses, but most days I just piled it into a knot on top of my head. It had to be a really special occasion for me to get the hair straighteners out and even then, I had to plead with my best friend Ruth to straighten it for me. This was done with caution, however, because Ruth could never stop at my hair, and before I knew it I would be all trussed up like a doll and feeling pretty stupid, as though I was in fancy dress … as a drag queen.
That’s unfair actually. Ruth always looks good and tries her best to guide me with my fashion choices, but I just don’t feel comfortable unless I’m in jeans and a T-shirt.
My main morning problem though, came down to motivation. I didn’t want to get out of bed, especially if I’d been rudely awoken by my noisily sexually active neighbour and missed out on a large chunk of my forty winks. Usually, when I did finally crawl out, I would stand in the shower far longer than was necessary, just enjoying the water. Warming my body on cold days, cooling and refreshing me on hot ones. I loved being in water. My dream country house would have a swimming pool and a spa!
Then, after I’d showered, I liked to sit wrapped in a towel staring into space while my body dried. Perhaps it was testament to just how lazy I was that I couldn’t even be bothered to dry myself and instead waited for the air around me to do its work. Perhaps in my dream house I’d have servants who dressed me.
I realised my dreams had been tainted by BBC costume dramas. Perhaps sexually I belonged to those times, but my career was far more technologically advanced and I wouldn’t swap that for all the tea dances in Derbyshire.
Eventually, two hours after I’d dragged myself out of bed, I got dressed. That didn’t take me very long at all; my clothes lived on the floor at my feet and I just chose something that didn’t smell too bad. Then I headed out the door and was on my way to my office.
On this day, however, I wanted to make a good impression. I wanted to be the best boss in the world. But I wanted to be respected too. I had no idea how to achieve that so I decided to aim for respectable and introduce laid-back Olivia afterwards. I drew the line at wearing a suit, though. I couldn’t comfortably work in a suit so I decided on smart jeans and a plain T-shirt. I wouldn’t be advertising my love of Star Wars or Doctor Who or Batman. I would be the busy and important owner of Inspired Programming.
Chapter Two
It was no coincidence that my office, in a converted school in Camden, was within walking distance of my flat. I commuted to work for four years before I went self-employed and wasted a lot of hours that I’d never get back. I don’t know how it happens, but no matter where you travel to in London, it takes an hour. I vowed that I would at least live on the same Tube line as my office but when I found this place in Camden I knew it was
where I belonged. Not just the building either, but the area. Camden reaches out and spreads its feel-good vibe, infecting everyone that walks within its boundary. Once I started working there, it was only a matter of time before I lived there too.
The school closed down eight years ago and the Church put it up for sale. They were about to demolish the building after six years, intending to sell the land when Dave stepped in. He bought the building, renovated the classrooms and converted them into office and studio spaces for creative artists and organisations. There was a sense of belonging to the building; even though we were all self-employed, it somehow felt like we were a team. Unsurprisingly I often got called on to fix the computers of some of the other tenants, and I helped out occasionally with designing flyers and websites and things like that for them. I enjoyed this because those favours provided a nice distraction from the more complex projects I generally undertook.
A knock at the door signalled the arrival of my new employee and brought me out of my reverie. I stood as the door opened and started making my way towards the kitchenette.
‘Hi, Steven. Come on in. Would you like a tea or coffee?’
‘Hey, Olly. Tea would be great, thanks. Milk, two sugars please.’ Steven replied.
Olly? That’s Miss Jones to you, young man, I wanted to tell him. Or at the very least Olivia! As the kettle boiled, I watched him dump his bag on his desk and sit in the chair, leaning back comfortably and swivelling in small half-circles back and forth while he waited for me to make his drink.
He was confident and relaxed. He wore black skinny jeans and baseball boots. A waistcoat was buttoned up over a casual, plain shirt, unbuttoned at the collar. His dark hair was short at the back, trained forward at the front and was thick and messy. He looked too cool for school, a far cry from the mass media portrayal of the average computer nerd. It annoyed me slightly. I remembered James fondly, and wondered if I’d made the right decision.
I’d interviewed four people for this job. In truth, I could probably afford to hire all four of them, but I was nervous about releasing full control over the work going out under my name and I wanted to ease my way in slowly. I’d devised a small test to find out how well they worked, their attention to detail, and techniques they used. Steven was quite cocky about the test afterwards, like it was nothing to worry about, while James had been nervous and over-analysed his work. I was childishly pleased that Steven had made a small error – nothing critical, but an error all the same – but James had made an error that was actually my mistake in the test design. When I corrected it, I found James would have been right.
Steven was confident, straight out of university and his training was completely up to date. The latest techniques, the latest software; he could probably teach me a few things. He also seemed likely to be good at schmoozing customers and clients – the one area in which I did not excel. Luckily, my work stood for itself, but I was sure I could bring more clients in if I could get the networking right and I had a gut instinct that Steven would be better at it than James.
I kept James’s CV, though. If I decided being an employer was OK I thought I’d bring him in. I imagined I’d need someone else in the office who was more like me; Steven might just drive me insane!
I glanced over at him while I stirred the sugar into his tea and tried to swallow the feeling of annoyance at his confidence.
‘OK, so first things first, there is a café in the front of the building and they deliver lunch to all the offices in here. You just have to get your order in by 10:30 a.m. and it’ll be brought around by noon,’ I said as I handed Steven a menu and picked up the phone to call Steph. It was answered on the second ring.
‘Stephanie’s, Steph speaking.’
‘Hey, Steph, it’s Olivia. How are you?’
Steph was the easiest person to talk to in the world; with so many customers in her café, she got so much practice that she could win prizes for small talk.
‘Hi, Olly.’ Steph exclaimed, ‘do you want the usual?’
My usual was Chinese chicken and salad in a tiger-bread baguette with a bag of roast beef flavour Monster Munch.
‘Of course. Hey, Steph, I have a new member of staff to add to your list. Steven Teller.’
I handed the phone over to Steven, and a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face before a huge grin spread across it and he spoke confidently into the phone.
‘Hi, Steph. This is Steven, how are you?’ He laughed at whatever she said and he looked across at me smiling. ‘Yeah, she’s made me a cup of tea and everything. I thought I’d be the one making the teas around here!’
I raised my eyebrows and muttered, ‘Oh you will be.’
Steven finished his lunch order and replaced the handset. He grinned at me like he knew something he shouldn’t. Damn Steph, what had she told him about me?
It was not going as I’d expected. Why wasn’t he more scared of me? I was the boss, for goodness’ sake!
I shuffled together the papers I had in front of me and handed them to him.
‘Induction pack. There are a few forms to fill in and I need your bank details for your salary. I’ll leave you to it; give me a shout when you’re done.’
‘Sure thing,’ he replied, ‘I have a form for you too from the university.’
He held out a booklet towards me. Really? He was giving me work to do? This was all wrong. I could feel the crease between my eyebrows forming.
‘What is it?’ I asked.
‘It’s to do with the internship programme; they need to know that I’m fulfilling the criteria set out by the programme organisers.’
Oh yes, that was the other reason I’d chosen him. Steven was on a fast-track intern programme, which matched up suitable graduates for twelve months’ work experience. The salary was part subsidised by the programme so I got him cheap. I had not realised that this would cause me more work. I really needed to get an assistant.
‘So what is he like?’ Ruth asked me, tucking her feet underneath her body as she curled up comfortably in my armchair that evening. She knew I was stressing out about managing someone and was eager to find out how the first day had gone.
‘He’s annoying,’ I sighed. ‘No, he’s not annoying, he’s just young and cocky and sure of himself.’
‘Aren’t those last two the same thing?’
‘Cocksure? I guess so. He called me Olly.’ I folded my arms across my chest defensively and frowned.
She gasped, mocking me. ‘That bastard, calling you by your name.’ She laughed. ‘Everyone calls you Olly.’ Ruth was too reasonable sometimes; always saw the good side to everyone and everything.
‘Yes but you know me. He should call me Olivia, or Miss Jones even.’ I stopped when I saw the smirk on Ruth’s face and started laughing, ‘OK, maybe not Miss Jones, but you know, it’s a little familiar to go shortening people’s names before you even know how they take their tea. Not one single cup of tea did he make me today, I had to make my own.’
Ruth rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. ‘How is that any different from all the time you’ve been working for yourself?’ she asked sternly.
‘Ah, but now I have to make two cups! I mean what am I paying him for if not to make me my tea?’ I shrugged and let out a dramatic sigh. ‘I don’t want to go in tomorrow.’ I grumbled.
‘I’m absolutely certain he’s not that bad. Maybe he was just nervous and hid it behind bravado. I bet he’s not as sure of himself as you think he is.’
I pondered this for a moment.
‘Well I’ll be nice, but it’s his bloody turn to make a brew!’
‘So what does he look like? Is he cute?’ Ruth teased, ‘Or does he look like an über-nerd?’
‘I don’t know, he’s about twelve or something,’ I gasped incredulously, ‘I didn’t notice whether he was attractive.’ I thought about what Steven looked like, ‘He’s quite trendy looking; all skinny jeans and big hair. Looks more like a gig promoter than a computer geek.’
Ruth’s e
yes lit up as she laughed. ‘He sounds pretty hot, no wonder you hate him!’ She threw a cushion at me. ‘You should just start being nice to him,’ she added in all seriousness.
I shrugged. ‘I made him four cups of tea today. If I were any nicer it would be borderline sexual harassment.’
I grinned then and she laughed, regarding me quizzically. ‘What on earth is wrong with your hair?’
Chapter Three
I vowed to get over my stupid prejudice toward Steven the next day, so when he arrived I made him a cup of tea and showed him where everything was kept so he could help himself. OK, maybe I was trying to hint he should get a round in once in a while, but I did it in the name of workplace fairness, not because I resented making him a drink.
We sat down at the meeting table and I spread out a few client files.
‘These are the jobs we’ve got booked in at the moment. They are in various stages of development with the clients. I want you to start sitting in on future meetings so you’ll be in a position to work on the coding.’ I pushed the files towards him, ‘Have a read through them and if you have any questions give me a shout. I want to go through the new contract with you this afternoon. It’s a big job, the reason I had to expand, so I want you involved from the beginning.’
There now, that wasn’t so hard. No employment tribunals heading my way any time soon. I found it strange sharing my work space with someone, especially someone I hardly knew. I kept thinking he was going to get up any second, thank me for my time and leave so I could get on with my work. It’s like having a visitor who doesn’t know when he’s outstayed his welcome. I knew I would need to find a way to feel comfortable working while someone was there. I was sure that in time, when we got used to each other, I would wonder how I ever worked alone.
The door opening signalled the arrival of lunch.
‘Hey, chicken!’ Steph called, a hint of laughter in her voice.
I groaned as she started singing, ‘Chick chick chick chick chicken,’ and then laughed at Steven’s bemused expression.
