Unspeakable

by Marturano, Tony

  The good thing was, she had a strong work ethic. Her paper round, and the weekends she spent mucking out stables at a nearby farm, meant she had savings.

  She used some of the money to buy a bus ticket to the Northwest of England, a town just outside Manchester.

  There, one of her best social media friends, who happened to be a few years older than her, shared a flat with her boyfriend.

  She gratefully accepted a place on the couch.

  A few years later, after a stint of live-in jobs for a chain of restaurants, as well as several temp jobs, she managed to put herself through an evening course in finance and computer science. They weren’t the most exciting academic achievements, but ones she knew would be essential for a decent career progression.

  Thus, it wasn’t long before she was offered, and accepted, a position in the accounts department of a technology company, specialising in the design of key card entry systems.

  And that’s where she met Jason.

  His company had been commissioned to design and develop a bespoke sales order management system that interfaced with the existing finance software.

  Rachel was seconded by the in-house project manager to work on the implementation team. Specifically, she was made responsible for testing the new interface. This was new territory for her; she’d never been involved this kind of project before, but then she never had been one to shy away from a challenge either.

  The first thing she noticed about Jason was how handsome he looked in his pinstriped navy blue suit. It fitted him perfectly. He was obviously a man who took pride in his appearance, as he was well groomed with a short haircut, freshly shaven faced and even manicured nails.

  The other notable feature was his stature; he wasn’t particularly tall, but he was certainly well formed. She noticed this each and every time he took off his jacket to reveal figure hugging shirts that highlighted well-defined biceps, and the pectoral bulge across his chest.

  He projected a professional demeanour at all times. Although he did pepper their interactions with the occasional compliment; nothing too cheesy or anything that could be interpreted as a pickup line, but more casual observations about her perfume, the way she’d typeset her testing log, her hair, and, of course, the way she was able to identify particular bugs in the most obscure places of his code. She was also one of the few who understood his sense of humour, which was as dry as it was witty.

  One afternoon, whilst making coffee, Rachel overheard two of the office girls talking about some guy from the South.

  “You’re a lucky bitch, Rachel,” one of them had said.

  “What did I do?”

  “You get to talk to him nearly every day.”

  It was then that she realised that they were talking about Jason.

  “I hadn’t really noticed,” she said.

  But she had.

  Not that anybody knew.

  He certainly didn’t.

  But in the two months since her regular interaction with him, Rachel had suddenly come to love the job that, up until then, she’d written off as an uninspiring means to an end.

  Now, she looked forward to each and every day, where there would be a chance to either correspond or see him.

  She particularly treasured the moments where he’d visit her desk in a subtle breeze of aftershave that she’d surreptitiously breathe in. Or, her personal favourite, when he’d point to an area on her computer screen and leant forward, sometimes brushing against her.

  Indeed, the anticipation of any potential contact with him electrified her, to the point where it would literally give her goose pimples.

  And yes, although she’d never confess to it, there were times when she’d angle the position of her chair just so, in order to make contact inevitable.

  Ironically, despite this, it took Rachel some time to translate these small triumphs into the fact that she’d fallen for Jason, much harder than the control freak in her would like.

  However, her boss was just weeks from signing off the project. After that, Jason’s work there would be done, and she’d most likely never see him again.

  The thought of this distressed her.

  Her best friend’s advice was to bite the bullet and declare her undying love. And yes, it had been delivered in exactly that melodramatic fashion which actually annoyed Rachel at the time, because it seemed like her friend was not taking her romantic predicament seriously.

  What she didn’t realise, was that she didn’t need the advice. The very thing that threatened to tear them apart also offered the opportunity to spend serious quality time with the man of her dreams.

  The project was just weeks from sign off. There were many last minute tweaks that needed to be written, tasks performed, and tests completed before the system could go live, and be deemed fit for purpose.

  To this end, it made sense for Jason to spend the last week of the project ‘on site’.

  Not literally, of course. He asked Rachel if she could recommend a decent hotel nearby, as his boss had suggested he stay for the rest of the week.

  It was all Rachel could do not to squeal and clap her hands with excitement. Not that she was prone to such over girly practises.

  Instead, she managed a casual smile and, with equal casualness, revealed the name of the nearest Marriott hotel.

  Inside, her heart pounded, her temperature rose and beads of perspiration prickled her forehead.

  “Are you okay?” he asked her.

  “Yes, I'm all right,” she said, much more quickly than she’d intended. “Why do you ask?”

  He was watching her. “I don’t know. Your face looks flushed.”

  “Yes,” she croaked. “I was just thinking that. It’s hot in here. Do you feel that?”

  He shook his head, “Not really.”

  “I still think we should get maintenance onto that. So, anyway, yes, the Marriott, it’s probably the best place, you could actually walk to it from here.”

  “Thanks… that sounds good.”

  “And of course, if you need someone to take care of you….”

  …his eyebrows lifted.

  “…I mean as in show you around. Maybe check out some of the pubs or restaurants, I’d be happy to.”

  “Thanks. That’s sweet of you,” he said and then, much to Rachel’s disappointment, he stopped short of making a date. Instead, he changed the subject, and started asking if she had managed to validate the test data he had imported earlier in the day.

  She shook her head, and heard herself say that she’d been tied up with some time sensitive work for her boss, but that she’d get onto it first thing Monday.

  It was Friday.

  The rest of his words may as well have been spoken from the bottom of the ocean for all the clarity in which Rachel received them. Her disappointment had her thinking about nothing else other than, he must not be into her, otherwise he would have jumped at the opportunity to go to dinner and maybe even spend the evening.

  She’d failed.

  It didn’t matter how much she’d styled her hair, perfected her makeup, added brand new items to her wardrobe, he hadn’t truly noticed her.

  At least not as a potential partner.

  Or so she thought. When she finally shifted her focus from middle distance, those beautiful hazel eyes were looking at her once more.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” she said, masking the tone in her voice.

  He was still looking at her.

  “What?” she asked.

  He smiled, disarmingly, “Well, you didn’t answer my question.”

  “Which one? About the data, no, as I said, I didn’t get the….”

  “…No Rachel, not about the data, about tonight.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yeah, I asked if you were free so I could take you up on your offer to show me the sights. I figured that dinner is the least I could do, given how well you’ve taken care of me since I’ve been here.”r />
  He was still smiling, and it was a beautiful smile.

  It was clearly infectious because Rachel started grinning.

  “I would absolutely love to,” she declared.

  And that’s how, an hour later, they found themselves in a busy bistro. One of those relatively small places situated off the main thoroughfare, but always busy because of their excellent reputation.

  It was Rachel’s favourite place, made of red brick and decorated with a subtle Mediterranean influence, featuring heavy wooden tables and chairs, with rustic pots, pans, and even a bicycle, hanging from the wall.

  Rachel loved the place; each time she visited was another opportunity to savour good food and imagine she was in a different European city.

  Tonight, she was on a romantic dinner date in one of the many ristorantes of the one of the many vias of Roma.

  She looked across the table at the man she had been idolising all this time. He looked particularly handsome, since he was sporting an unusually dishevelled look; his tie was loosened, his hair ruffled, and his sleeves were rolled up like he had serious business with the crusty bread and oil dip in front of him.

  Rachel relished the relaxed imperfection.

  They ordered alcoholic beverages with their food, both eager to consign the working week to history and welcome the weekend.

  It helped.

  Before long, they were talking about anything and everything but the office, and it was so liberating to be able to speak about subjects other than numbers, credits, debits and surcharges.

  Instead, they shared details of childhood, previous dates, first kisses, life ambitions, favourite movies, and actors, including which they’d actually bed.

  If the sexual preference and type questionnaire was obvious, neither of them chose to admit it.

  Later, once they’d both calmed slightly from the initial excitement of discovering intimate details about each other, the conversation strayed to their professional roles. However it was only a temporary reflection to share the fact that neither actually liked their job, but both viewed it as a necessary evil.

  Jason went one step further and criticised the organisation for which he had been working for over five years. He described it as a corporate pimp that charged extortionate fees but whored out staff for a fraction of that. He went on to share his dream of starting up his own freelance business, with a few subcontractors to help out with the bigger projects. He was sanguine enough to concede that such an enterprise would require a considerable amount of funding and that, so far, his pitches had fallen on deaf ears.

  Rachel was sympathetic since she was equally miserable. She’d taken her job because she needed the money and the security that a regular salary afforded, otherwise the position was dull, and had only become interesting when he arrived there.

  The last part just fell out of her mouth, right after she’d drained another vodka and Coke.

  It was too late to take the words back, or mask them as anything other than what they meant.

  Their eyes locked on each other for a very long time, and it was obvious.

  Less than an hour later they were in his hotel room, on his bed and he was inside her. He gently cupped her face with his hands and brushed her lips with his, while she urged him deeper, eager to satisfy the aching hunger she had endured each and every time they had been in each other’s proximity, until now.

  Yet he shared no such haste, and appeared eager only to pleasure her with each lingering, gentle yet probing thrust of his thighs.

  They made love, because that’s exactly how it felt, two more times before morning, and each time felt like the first, differing only in its intensity, not of the act, but of her love for him. The love that engulfed her like a billowing curtain of silk, each and every time she clung to and dissolved into his body, as if to absorb each and every cell of him.

  Six months, hundreds if not thousands of text messages, numerous video chats, telephone calls and long weekends later. Jason brought her tea one morning, sat on the bed next to her and said, “I’ve got something to ask you.”

  Rachel’s stomach lurched. Instantly, her mind raced through a myriad of potential subjects, some she had actually flirted with and others she hadn’t even allowed to enter her mind.

  Jason must have noticed the look on her face. He smiled, “Don’t look so worried,” he said, and then added, “I want you to move in with me. I want you to move down south and into the new apartment with me.”

  Rachel was struck dumb; this wasn’t a scenario she had considered.

  Jason went on to explain that, thanks to his new investors, the business he formed just three months earlier was doing extremely well. So well in fact that he had secured a lease on an apartment in one of London’s most sought-after properties, Heron Heights, and he wanted Rachel to move in with him.

  “Rachel?”

  Jason was looking down at her; he was dressed in a blue suit and with his freshly gelled hair was looking every bit as handsome as he first day she’d met him. “That’s the third time I called you, what were you thinking about?”

  She shook her head, “Nothing important.”

  “I’m going to be late,” he said, fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt.

  “Why don’t you take me with you?” she asked, getting up from the bed and moving into the living room in search of the bags that had been dumped there, most ungraciously, by the so-called porter.

  She pulled out her favourite pair of stonewashed jeans.

  Jason followed her out, just in time to see her slip out of his shirt. She had a beautiful body and her breasts, oh how he loved her breasts…

  “…Because it would be boring for you,” he said, feeling compelled to move over to her and touch them, and he did.

  “I don’t mind. I’d like to see you in action, so to speak.” She smiled as he circled her right nipple with his finger.

  “Yeah, well, I do. You’ve just got here. You should take some time to get settled in.” He could feel himself getting aroused once more. “Hmm,” he said, appreciatively. “I can still remember how you felt in the shower,” he whispered in her ear and then proceeded to kiss it.

  But she twisted away from him, “Yeah, well keep remembering. I’m trying to get dressed,” she said more petulantly than she intended, and then pulled on white panties.

  He groaned.

  “You’d better go. You’re going to be late,” she said, strapping her breasts into a matching white bra and then returning to the bedroom.

  He looked at his watch. Considered going after her but instead he called out, “Okay. I’ll see you later then.”

  Rachel didn’t reply. She couldn’t decide how she was feeling.

  She felt pride that Jason’s new venture was doing well, ecstatic about sharing a gorgeous apartment with him, yet also somewhat miffed that he hadn’t made an effort to be at home with her today.

  What’s wrong with you?

  She was behaving like a petulant brat. After all, she was used to and perfectly fine with her own company.

  She enjoyed it.

  In fact, instead of being annoyed, she should be pleased that her boyfriend (she loved that word) wasn’t there to smother her on her first day, but instead gave her the space to unpack, settle in, and maybe even do some laundry.

  Suddenly, she felt foolish, and rushed out of the bedroom just as the front door slammed shut, toppling a paperback book from its perch and sending it crashing to the floor with a loud thud.

  She picked it up and turned it over in her hands. As she did so, a business card fell out and to the floor.

  She retrieved it and read:

  Night & Day Professional Services

  B1, Heron Heights

  London

  Apartment B1, she resolved, must be in the same building although, as far as she’d noticed, all of the apartments were numbered, and none prefixed with a letter.

  There was no telephone number on the card. No clue as to the nature of the business
, but Rachel couldn’t help but think how perfect it would be if she could land herself a job here, in this very building.

  She finished dressing.

  12 Libel

  Martin Barren was a spindly man, in his early forties, with a gaunt face and bright ferret eyes showcased behind small square spectacles. He had a traditional cockney accent that stereotypically would, on first impression, place him as a market stall owner or London cabbie. It was this very assumption that often gave Martin an edge over his adversaries for, despite appearances, Martin knew the law, and he possessed a razor sharp mind to practice it.

  He sat in a leather chair, at the head of the large frosted-glass boardroom table that dominated the rectangular room that was nothing like the clone-like meeting room boxes on the lower floors. Here, the décor had been contemplated over days, and not someone’s coffee break.

  This power room is where Martin held court.

  The lawyer, and the two paralegals he’d asked to sit in on the meeting, stood up when Ashley entered the room.

  Martin smiled a fox-like smile, “Ashley, good to see you. Please sit down.”

  The young men sitting opposite her smiled a greeting. They had never met Ashley before. Rumour had it; she was banging the Chief Executive, or at least that’s the conversation they were having on their way here.

  Both were eager to see just exactly how Martin was going to handle this particular cross-examination.

  “Nice to see that chivalry isn’t dead after all,” Ashley said with a smile.

  “I trained em’ well,” Martin replied. “How’s your day?”

  “Busy.”

  “Oh, I know that feeling,” Martin said, opening a manila folder on the desk in front of him, “Obviously, I won’t keep you any longer than necessary. I’ve just got a few things I’d like to clarify with you.”

  Ashley nodded, knowing exactly what was coming next. “Happy to oblige,” she said with a smile.

  “Well, of course, as you’ve probably guessed, this manuscript by,” he made an action of consulting the text before him…

  “Jackie Harris,” Ashley offered, leaning back in her chair and placing her arms on the armrests.

  “Yeah, Miss Harris.” He looked, smiled then leant back in his chair, “Ashley, the Met are… how shall I put it…”