Read Online Imperfect Strangers by David Staniforth - Free Book Online

elevates her shoulders, lifts her chin, and returns Martin’s stare. She holds his eye until he retreats.
    “Men! Atchggrrr!” Kerry growls, as he turns away. “They just don’t seem to understand the word no.”
    I feel like crap – green around the gills, as they say . I wipe the corners of my mouth with a tissue, convinced that my face is not entirely clean. I’ve been gone for over twenty minutes. The watery sensation fills the back of my mouth and once again I think I’m going to be sick. It’s the taste of it, I tell myself, and fish through my bag for a tube of mints that have been in there for months.
    “Sally,” Colleen closes in, her whispered words landing on my face. “Your Steven’s phoned again.”
    “He’s not.. .” I say, a hand shielding Colleen from my sour breath. “We’re finished.”
    “Well, I hope you mean that,” Colleen says, her voice lowered further still, even though she backs away, “because Kerry told him to, er...”
    “Piss off. I told him to piss off. Fuck ! Colleen, you can be such a prissy thing. If you say a word like piss, you’re not going to be struck by lightning, you know.” The grin on Kerry’s face contradicts the harshness of her tone, but Colleen still looks a little perturbed. “Anyway, Sally heard me tell him. She was standing in the doorway.”
    “Oh, well that wasn’t very nice of you Kerry. To say that while Sally was in the r oom.”
    “It’s alright Colleen, I’m not bothered. He needs telling straight. Only language he understands.” I realise I’m fiddling with the chain around my neck: the one Steve bought for me in Florence. The token item he felt forced to purchase when I suddenly went moody after he’d confessed to buying that case of wine.
    “Steve never used to say piss off.” I smile as my eyes drift to the ceiling. “Not to me, anyway. He always said forward-slash. You know, like jokingly. Like , if I asked him to get me a cuppa or something. Forward-slash , he’d say. Then he’d go and make me a brew.”
    Martin is back at his office door, hovering, looking very much like a rabbit at the entrance to its burrow, its eye on a carrot surrounded by foxes. Looking slightly nervous, his mouth twitching somewhat, he heads in our direction. He’ll cough into his hand, any moment now, I think. Sure enough he does so, before inflating his chest and allowing his managerial voice to emerge.
    “Do you girls intend to do any work today?”
    I get the feeling it’s mainly aimed at me, being as I was away from my desk for so long. Or is that just my guilty conscience ? I’ve never been any different. Tipping my head in his direction, I strike a provocative pose and wind a strand of hair around my forefinger. “Sorry Mr Smith. Only I’ve been sick, and I’ve a touch of women’s trouble.”
    “Right, well.. . that’s, er... yes, right. Well, either get some work done or go home.”
    Martin suddenly l oses his managerial edge and surreptitiously glances toward the safety of his office.
    “Sorry. No, I’ll be alright,” I say standing, brushing creases from my skirt, before picking up a pile of letters from the desk. “I’m just going to frank these for posting.” For Kerry’s amusement, I curl my upper lip and dip into a mock curtsy as Martin turns away.
    “Work to do,” he says, retreating. “Get on now.”
    “Forward-slash, Mr Smith!” Colleen says, matter-of-factly, as he walks past her desk.
    His eyes, and therefore his attention, are attached to Philippa’s legs four seats beyond, no doubt hoping for a flash of silky pant-V, spattered with hearts. His reaction, therefore, is somewhat delayed. Suddenly he stops and turns, his face screwed into a knot of bewilderment. Kerry looks at Colleen in disbelief, drawing her cheeks into her teeth, her whole body shaking, as Colleen shrinks into her chair.
    “What?” Martin asks her, walking back, placing the flat of his hand on her desk, and leaning in towards her face. He