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September 09 , 2009

Shiny Things

A Madam Jamei Novella


Shiny Things

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Michael came back from his lunch break and checked his breath against the palm of his hand as he walked in the building. Satisfied the breath mint was doing its job, he took a deep breath and headed for the front desk. Relax, he told himself. You’re only about to risk total humiliation.He fidgeted as he waited for the receptionist to look up. He’d…

Warning: This eBook is intended for mature audiences only. It contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language. If you are someone that is easily offended, I strongly recommend you stop reading and go back to your boring, dull, inconsequential life. BUT… if you enjoy life, yourself, and pleasure, please feel free to keep reading and enjoy the hard work I have put into these pages. This eBook is for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase.

None of these stories are true, they are all works of my imagination, any and all names, actions, and stories have been fabricated from my subconscious.

Business had been good so I’d decided to rent out my neat little ground floor flat in the quiet cul-de-sac I’d lived in for the past three years. It was a nice area, “desirable” according to the estate agents, so I knew I’d have no problems letting it. As soon as the ad appeared in the local paper I was inundated with phone calls. I wanted the new tenant to be female. I had this stereotypical idea that a woman would take better care of the place than a man. Not very logical, considering I was one of the untidiest people I knew. My excuse was I’d outgrown the space and that’s why there was clutter and dust everywhere. Not today, however. I might live in a sought-after area, but I’d seen enough daytime TV to know you had to make an effort when you were showing people around. So the usually discarded clothes were scooped from the back of the sofa and shoved into the wardrobe, shoes and books were pushed into cupboards and kitchen surfaces were bleached.

Lisa was the first person to view. Lisa Steele. I liked the name. It sounded a mixture of feminine and masculine, vulnerable yet strong. We’d arranged a Saturday morning, not too early (I like my beauty sleep), 11 a.m. to be precise. The other prospective tenants were scheduled to view after lunch. Lisa only lived the other side of town, just a fifteen-minute hop by car, so when it got to 11.35 a.m. and she hadn’t appeared I was surprised and a little irritated. Finally, at 11.45 a.m., the doorbell rang.

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