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| Site contents Copyright © 2005-2015 Bridget Midway All Rights Reserved |
Working Overtime
Working Overtime
Copyright 2005
“Not such a hot shot now, are you?” Jessica peeped through the fish-eye lens in her hotel room door to
gaze at the spectacle across the hall.
With a force that should have pulled the door from its frame, Keith struggled to yank the tail end of his
robe from his closed and, she assumed, now locked door.
“Good,” she said in a whisper. “Let him suffer.”
But she smiled as she watched him tugging on the garment. A nice person would have helped him,
maybe even offered to give him some scissors to cut himself free or another robe to change into or
better yet, sanctuary in her room until he could get another card key. Actually a good friend would have
done that. But it was nice to see Keith not excel at one thing in his life.
She noticed he straightened up, fisted his robe tightly around his neck and cinched the front flap closed
as well. A group of women walked by him as he fought to save face. Fat chance. Thinking about his
embarrassment got Jessica to laugh, something he must have heard through the door.
“You think this is funny, don’t you?” he asked as he looked at the door like he could see her through it.
“A real friend would have called the front desk.”
Jessica, dressed in a long t-shirt with pink socks on her feet, darted to her purse to retrieve her cell
phone. She unlocked her door, peered down the hall in both directions then leaned against the
doorjamb holding his possible salvation.
“Here’s my phone. Is this what you want?” she asked, dangling it in front of him.
“You know what I want.”
His voice dropped to an impossible level that made her insides quiver. Her face flushed in an
unbearable heat as she swallowed nervously to clear her dry throat.
“Just like when we were kids,” she began. “You had to have it your way then and you’re still looking to
be on top now.”
Keith threw his hand in the air. “Come on, Jess. We’re not kids anymore. So I got a job at a competing
computer firm. So we just managed to snag a big account from underneath your firm at this convention.
So I made partner before you did.” With that last line he smirked. His clear gray eyes sparkled even in
the dim hallway light.
“So I’m taking this phone back into my room, calling security and heading back to bed.” She turned
back into her room.
“Wait!” He held his hand up, cautious of not exposing too much of his body.
As it were, Jessica admired the little bit of his muscled chest he left exposed. She imagined he must
have had a drool-worthy six-pack developed through years of playing baseball. The man aged well.
And her crush---no, her love---matured along with him.
"Yes?” she asked coyly.
She leaned her head against the doorframe. Her sandy blond hair fell into her eyes. She shook her
head to remove it from her vision. She wanted to enjoy staring at him.
“What do you want from me?” he asked.
“You know what I want.”
--MORE--
Copyright 2005
“Not such a hot shot now, are you?” Jessica peeped through the fish-eye lens in her hotel room door to
gaze at the spectacle across the hall.
With a force that should have pulled the door from its frame, Keith struggled to yank the tail end of his
robe from his closed and, she assumed, now locked door.
“Good,” she said in a whisper. “Let him suffer.”
But she smiled as she watched him tugging on the garment. A nice person would have helped him,
maybe even offered to give him some scissors to cut himself free or another robe to change into or
better yet, sanctuary in her room until he could get another card key. Actually a good friend would have
done that. But it was nice to see Keith not excel at one thing in his life.
She noticed he straightened up, fisted his robe tightly around his neck and cinched the front flap closed
as well. A group of women walked by him as he fought to save face. Fat chance. Thinking about his
embarrassment got Jessica to laugh, something he must have heard through the door.
“You think this is funny, don’t you?” he asked as he looked at the door like he could see her through it.
“A real friend would have called the front desk.”
Jessica, dressed in a long t-shirt with pink socks on her feet, darted to her purse to retrieve her cell
phone. She unlocked her door, peered down the hall in both directions then leaned against the
doorjamb holding his possible salvation.
“Here’s my phone. Is this what you want?” she asked, dangling it in front of him.
“You know what I want.”
His voice dropped to an impossible level that made her insides quiver. Her face flushed in an
unbearable heat as she swallowed nervously to clear her dry throat.
“Just like when we were kids,” she began. “You had to have it your way then and you’re still looking to
be on top now.”
Keith threw his hand in the air. “Come on, Jess. We’re not kids anymore. So I got a job at a competing
computer firm. So we just managed to snag a big account from underneath your firm at this convention.
So I made partner before you did.” With that last line he smirked. His clear gray eyes sparkled even in
the dim hallway light.
“So I’m taking this phone back into my room, calling security and heading back to bed.” She turned
back into her room.
“Wait!” He held his hand up, cautious of not exposing too much of his body.
As it were, Jessica admired the little bit of his muscled chest he left exposed. She imagined he must
have had a drool-worthy six-pack developed through years of playing baseball. The man aged well.
And her crush---no, her love---matured along with him.
"Yes?” she asked coyly.
She leaned her head against the doorframe. Her sandy blond hair fell into her eyes. She shook her
head to remove it from her vision. She wanted to enjoy staring at him.
“What do you want from me?” he asked.
“You know what I want.”
--MORE--