Sophia Martin
Stories
11
Chapters
7,174
Words
1.1 M
Comments
0
Reading
3 d, 21 h
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“I’m sorry,” I said, smoothly moving into apologetic mode. In these sorts of situations, it’s important to take full personal responsibility. “It was just that the driver said Archie got me an escort, so…” “Do I On reflection, I probably shouldn’t have paused to think about it. “No,” I said, eventually. You’d think I’d at least get bonus points for getting the correct answer. “I don’t fucking believe this.” The suave young lady had turned into a bit of a foul-mouthed…-
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After speaking with Archie on the phone, I felt much more positive. I had a plan, I had an objective, I was in the process of getting from A to B. I was on my way. Very professional, very businesslike. Which was all very well, but it’s not like professionalism is my area of expertise. I’ve had a good look all around my wheelhouse, and the records show a distinct lack of well-made, clearly worked-out ideas. What I was doing was putting myself into an arena where every other person had a better idea…
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I was convinced the person in the photos I found online was Cheng. I had seen him in human form before and tall, handsome men tend to stick in the mind. No, still not gay. The one outside the Chinese embassy was from yesterday, so he might still be in London. That didn’t really help. What I knew about Cheng was that his mother had been a visitor and had been from Hong Kong. This guy, who the internet told me was called David Cheng (!), was also from Hong Kong. This guy could have been a relative, of…
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Tony was wearing a striped sweater with blue horizontal stripes and flames on the shoulders and running down the sleeves. Is wool a particularly flammable material? It’s not like you see sheep running around on fire all the time. I only touched Tony and his jumper immediately went up in flames. Frankly, it was a fire hazard that should have come with a warning on the label. He started screaming and tried to take his clothes off while I tried to think of how to turn my flaming hands off. I seemed to…
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I probably should have been worried about what was happening next door but I was too focused on my own shit. Not that it was hard to figure out why someone who wanted to have a word with me would do it via my neighbour instead of waiting for me inside my own place. Archie was watching me carefully. My flat was probably bugged or had cameras installed or something. If they — whoever they were — wanted a word without letting Archie know, they would need to do it in a lateral fashion. Slip in next…
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The police weren’t very happy to see me go. They pleaded and begged for me to stay a little longer, like a guy who thinks he’s close to scoring with a drunk girl but then her mates come take her away. Cherry was that mate. She was the perfect counter to their leery charms. She was an unimpressed woman with a sharp tongue. Of course, most guys think they can out-argue anyone they consider to be beneath them. Women certainly fall into that category. But Cherry was armed with facts and legislation.…
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I was sitting on a grey plastic chair on one side of a square table, the back of my head touching the wall if I leaned back. Opposite me was an empty chair where my recently-acquired solicitor would have been sitting if she hadn’t been standing on the table. They were attractive legs, slim and shapely. And an extremely short skirt. I kept my gaze averted. I had accepted Cherry Hinton as my legal representative even though I’d never met, never spoken to her and definitely never asked for her. But she…
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On the positive side (and, as we all know, I’m all about the silver lining) I was not the Colin of four years ago. Physically, mentally, emotionally… well, okay, emotionally I was still a disaster, but I had gained a lot of impressive qualities during my time away. I was confident that I could get out of this situation. I’m not saying I would, I’m just saying the confidence was there. The cops and the crowd that had stopped to rubberneck were all looking confused. Several of them had caught some…
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There were many reasons not to run. Where was I running to? How would that help me get away from a billionaire who had limitless ways to recapture me? Was I really going to outrun an athletic black man? Of courses, not all black men are supreme sprinters, and not all white guys are slow as fuck — there’s always that one French guy in the finals of the 100 metres at the Olympics — but I knew my own capabilities only too well. It would have been fine if there was someone else alongside me,…
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I stood up and looked at my phone. It said the battery was at 8%, which annoyed me. It had been on charge for four years and it hadn’t been a very long conversation, so why was it so low? There were other matters I should have been more concerned about. How did Flossie’s dad know I was back? How did he get my number? Who was at the door and what non-consensual things were they going to do to me? Of course, my phone’s battery didn’t work because the manufacturers of electronic devices had figured…
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