New Encounters

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Authors: Helena Smith

BOOK: New Encounters
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NEW

ENCOUNTERS

 

H.S.SMITH

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

First published in 2013 by H.S.Smith

 

Copyright © Helena S Smith

 

Helena S Smith has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work. Helena S Smith holds the copyright for this book globally.

 

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner.

 

[email protected]

 

The places are real, however all dealings that have gone on in this book are fictional, as are the characters and names.

 

Cove
r
© Matthewjones |
Dreamstime Stock Photos
&
Stock Free Images

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I dedicate this book to my dear Father who never got to finish his. To my Mum who supports me and cheers me on through everything. Thank you x

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 1

 

 

‘When we look at the projection for the coming year, the outlook is flat. We need to focus our energies into niche areas to really gain an advantage over our competitor.....’ Ice Maiden continued to talk. Thats the nickname I have given the Finance Director. With one look, I am sure she could turn people into ice. I really can not be bothered today, mind you …. I say this often. Working for a global company has its advantages. I get to go out on expenses and travel to some cities and countries I would never have normally chosen. We are having yet another meeting in our offices in Frankfurt. All sat round a conference table, each trying to look engaged.
The truth is, we were all out last night, after a 10 hour day. This morning we were all a little fuzzy headed coming into the office at 7:30am. We really do work hard and play harder. All filled with the excitement of the day ahead....not! I look around the room and notice that everyone really does live and breathe their jobs. I feel abnormal sometimes, because while I have done very well in this company and been promoted 3 times in the 7 years I have been here...... I just could not share their sense of obsession. Even at 11pm in a bar they would sit and pour over ‘Competitor analysis’. Me, I was sat there thinking about what colour nail polish I was going to paint my nails this Friday night. I really don’t fit in. But, it pays decent enough money, I have unfortunately become familiar with the comfort zone that was my job. Truth be told... it probably filled some void as I was single. Yep thats right, I am 33 and single. Never been married, and a string of mostly short romances that went nowhere. I actually dread filling out forms, that have the single questions. Even when you go to register somewhere ‘Are you married?’ , ‘No, I am single’. Then you get that expression. The expression that reads ‘Oh... your a Lesbian’.  I am forever going to be known as the spinster that was a secret lesbian. And I love men...... my best friend and I often joke at how we letch at men.

 

‘Bella, can you tell me what your thoughts are on this?’

 

Christ.
I flush red. Panic time..... think. think

 

‘Well Carol, I completely agree with your comments. I believe that by concentrating on niche areas will help us gain control over our competitors. I also think that if we spare time to focus on pushing our foundation products we will maintain a stronghold.’

 

‘Definitely Bella, good point. So moving on, Richard will take us through the plans for Russia’.

 

Phew. I really do not know why I do this job. I hate having the spotlight on me. Ashleigh has been my best friends since we were 6. She always goes on about how intelligent I am. But I really don’t feel it. And I really dislike having the spotlight on me, especially in a professional setting. We have more managers than we know what to do with, and the structure is all wrong. But they all think they know what they are doing. They should do, they schedule a meeting or a teleconference for any reason.  All so superficial. I was told yesterday that our global CEO was opening the stock exchange in New York next week. I had to stifle my joke. It was not long ago since the smurfs did it! I doubt my colleagues would know who the smurfs are.

 

Richard is still babbling on, and I manage to take a look at my watch without anyone seeing. Half an hour left. Thank god. Half an hour, until I can go downstairs get my suitcase and get in the taxi homeward bound.

 

That half an hour has actually gone quickly, and before I know it, I am bound to the lift. I dare not use the stairs in this place. Health and safety gone mad. Breathing in here can be seen as risky. The lift pings on the 2nd floor and my colleague steps in and gives me a massive hug.

 

‘Guttentag Bella’

 

‘Guttentag Mona’

 

She laughed her head off as always at my best German impression.

 

‘Are you going today?’

 

‘I sure am, heading for the taxi now. When are you next over  to the UK? ‘

 

‘I think it will be next month Bella, but I will keep you posted. We should go out for a drink, Yes?’

 

‘Definitely, let me know Mona, take care sweetie’.

 

We arrive on the ground floor before departing our separate ways with another hug. She is such a lovely person. She has tried desperately in vain to teach me German, and does it with such enthusiasm and cheers every time I get a word right. She claims I am doing well, but I have only learnt 4 sentences, and how to call someone a smurf. Which really.... isn’t that helpful in Germany.

 

I whizz into the taxi with my suitcase and am joined by one of our french sales managers, Pierre. He is smaller then me, quite handsome and we have always had this buzz between us. He is married, and I would never go there, but I can enjoy the flirt. He gets in the taxi  donning a wide cheshire cat grin. He slides up in the taxi and sits far to close. The taxi pulls away and I have to avert my eyes as we are on the wrong side of the road.

 

‘Pierre’ I say in a soft voice, but with a hard to get grin across my face. Jesus, I can’t help but flirt with this guy.

 

‘Bella, you are looking more stunning than usual. You are, how do you say.... looking radiant. Yes zat is eet. You are looking beautiful, stunning and radiant. Please, let me escort you to the airport.’

 

The french accent gets me every time, as well as his amazing compliments. I have known this guy for nearly 8 years. The whole office thinks we have had an affair at some point. Ahhh what the hell, let them think what they want. We have a great flirty friendship.

 

‘Pierre, I have no choice really do I ? The taxi is en route!’  To which we both burst out laughing.

 

‘Bella, that Finance Director, she seems like a right beeeaccchhh’. Good god, this guy even makes a swear word sexy. I laughed and raised my eyebrows in a silent agreement.  I always try to stand firm on what my parents had taught me. If you have nothing nice to say, then do not say anything at all.

 

Being with Pierre made the journey to the airport quick. We caught up on how his kids were, what his plans were for the weekend, which always included wine. After all... he is French. He paid the taxi, which saved me having to mess about trying to get into my jam packed handbag. We kissed each other on the cheek before he parted, giving me the eye like he always does. He just oozes it. But he makes me grin. He goes off to the swiss airline check in desk as I head for Lufthansa. Homeward bound at last. I check in my luggage, and head for security trying to not look like a snail weighed down with everything. My handbag is stuffed full, and my laptop bag feels like I am carrying another person. Before I know it, I am through security and boarding the plane. Sat next to a guy that was too overweight and sweating profusely. He didn’t look like the kind to start talking me to death, which was great. Its Friday, and I want to get home pronto. So I closed my eyes and thought about what I was doing this weekend and what I need to get done.

 

Ash would be at home, armed with wine. She worked in a doctors surgery on reception and therefore her hours were a lot more normal than mine. With me travelling and having a job that was ruled by a blackberry meant I could work sometimes until 10pm at night. Not tonight though... tonight we were going to catch up, get a takeaway and probably watch a movie. While the washing machine worked its magic on the contents of my suitcase.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 2

 

 

‘Then she shouted, ‘I have been waiting for 25 minutes. I have a bad back’ with that, she dropped her keys and managed to bend with the ability of a friggin russian athlete! I just sat and looked at her in astonishment!’ . Oh how I loved Ashes funny stories. She does make me laugh.

 

‘So come on then Bell, did you lot end up going out and partying hard again?’

 

‘haha... no. The boys did, but I gave in at about midnight. I was shattered and still had a report to finish. So I headed back to the hotel last night and had to fire up the laptop. The boys looked worse for wares though this morning.’

 

‘They work you too hard there. You work ridiculous hours all the time.’

 

‘I know, but I really don’t know what else to do’.

 

The truth was.... I really didn’t. Yeah I had fantasy ideas in my head. Like going to a Beyonce concert and her calling me to get up on stage and shocking her with my voice. But I mean wow... I couldn’t exactly pursue that ambition could I. I am thinking that I am having a midlife crisis at the moment. 33years old, single (STILL), I part own a house, have credit card debt, live month to month. I am carrying extra baggage, AKA fat. My confidence is at an all time low. Wow... it really is. I have thought about going on a retreat, the ones where you find yourself. But it scares me that I won’t find myself. Ridiculous really. I have always worked hard, but I really don’t feel like it’s my life’s passion. Far from it. Some people ramble on ‘Follow your heart’, ‘Your ideal job is something you enjoy doing’. I have no idea what I enjoy doing. I love eating, clearly. But I can’t get a job eating. Or, I will be like one of those people where the side of the house has to be removed so that I can be transported somewhere. I do need a change though.

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