Meredith's Journey Begins

Edward Green

Description

Most of us leave school or university with big plans, that never quite pan out.

Meredith finds herself floating through life. She’s good at her job, happy with friends, and loves her cats, but when anyone asks her what she’s up to, she’d never quite sure what to say.

William fully intends to use his position as a consultant to rule the world from the back seat. None of the risk, and all of the reward. Plus, it’s just plain fun to know he is in complete control.

When William hands Meredith his card, he’s hoping to find a good time.

Meredith worries the man who gave her his card might be more adventure than her little life can handle, but when he literally walks into her a few days later, she gives in to the plans life has for her.

William may never achieve the dreams he had when he left university, but anyone who has discovered the depth of intimacy and depravity that can be explored in a truly compatible relationship knows that sometimes dreams can shift form. Kinder than 50 Shades, but significantly naughtier.

Sujets

• BDSM
• Erotica
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Balboa Press UK
• Date de parution: 22 mai 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781982281618
• Langue: English

Extrait

Meredith’s JOURNEY BEGINS



Edward Green








Copyright © 2020 Edward Green.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.



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ISBN: 978-1-9822-8160-1 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-9822-8162-5 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-9822-8161-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020908975

Balboa Press rev. date: 08/17/2022



Contents
Chapter 1 In the Beginning
Chapter 2 Lightning
Chapter 3 That Kind of Girl
Chapter 4 In the Night
Chapter 5 Breakfast
Chapter 6 The Day After
Chapter 7 Not Rush Hour
Chapter 8 Weekending
Chapter 9 Back to Reality
Chapter 10 Meredith Makes a Discovery
Chapter 11 Lazy Sunday
Chapter 12 At Home with the Cats
Chapter 13 The Price of a Cigarette
Chapter 14 Jess Interrogates
Chapter 15 Showtime
Chapter 16 William and Jess
Chapter 17 What? You Didn’t Bring Any Toys?
Chapter 18 Cats Get Treats Too
Chapter 19 The Trouble when Relationships Meet—Or Don’t
Chapter 20 When Clients Come to Call
Chapter 21 Away with Mum
Chapter 22 Night Out-In
Chapter 23 Girls’ Night
Chapter 24 Saturday Morning Doesn’t Exactly Happen
Chapter 25 Shopping with Jess
Chapter 26 Friday Off—And a Country Walk
Chapter 27 Meredith Goes Shopping
Chapter 28 Waking in a Predicament
Chapter 29 Laying as One
Chapter 30 The Loneliness of Difference
Chapter 31 Action Stations
Chapter 32 Little Black Dresses
Chapter 33 Teasing

















With thanks to Kate, Hazel, Marie, Mira and Ali, without whose encouragement this story would not have been told and without whose help Meredith would not be half the woman she is.



1
In the Beginning
E veryone people watches; Meredith has long been certain of that. She’s played at it herself ever since she and Jess were first old enough to go to the mall together and sit, nursing cappuccinos in a coffee shop window. How could anyone resist the eternal human fascination with other people? Meredith does it to this day; it’s a great way to enjoy the thrill of new people, their secrets, the sense of them, and the way they move. She imagines their stories and what has led them to this precise moment in time, sharing it with her—though she, like other people watchers, hopes they are unaware they have been plucked from obscurity and cast in a role.
It makes her feel powerful and filled with knowledge, and does so without challenging her own shyness or insecurity. The game is best enjoyed while sitting with a friend or few. During a lull in conversation, one allows one’s eyes to wander, picking out the strange, the new, the out of place, or even, if one’s luck is in, the beautiful.
He’s just there. She hadn’t seen the group of smartly dressed men enter while she was drinking and laughing with the crowd from work. They certainly hadn’t been there when she arrived. She looks up and in that moment, he turns and meets her gaze. She finds herself looking into a face studying her from the other side of the bar, and senses that the owner of that face sees more than people often intend. The man’s eyes are glitteringly bright and she feels suddenly drawn toward the grey-suited stranger in the midst of this new group. The corner of his mouth turns briefly upwards, and she thinks or imagines she sees him nod almost imperceptibly in her direction before he returns to his conversation.
As time passes and drink flows, her eyes seek him out ever more frequently. She senses his attention on her from time to time too, and fancies he is undressing her with those eyes as sure as craftsman’s hands. In her mind his people-watching has no shyness or insecurity at its centre, and with this thought she blushes inwardly. (God! She hopes it’s only inwardly.)
The ‘drink after work’ rolls into late evening as she chats and flirts in her little group, none of whom she is even remotely romantically interested in, and so among whom she feels totally comfortable. She laughs at an anecdote about a crass former colleague, and then nods along to hopes of better bonuses this year. They try to drive the blues of the grey January evening away in the warm glow of her safe space. Between each passage of conversation, she finds her attention drawn back to him. The corners of his eyes have a slight downward tilt that makes her think of sadness, but light up as he smiles, laughs, or speaks. If tonight is anything to go by, that oddly stern face is well used to both laughter and smiling.
When she steps out for a smoke, her thoughts are of him, though she fixes her eyes anywhere else. She walks with all the grace she and several glasses of Malbec can muster, doing so in the hope that her movement pleases him. Stopping to gather drinks on her return, she tries to make eye contact, but is unable to see him from her gap at the bar. She manages to get served in not too long and returns with her laden tray.
A glass later, she sees him go to the bar, and she makes a beeline for the ladies’ room to pass close to him. Her valour, though reinforced by the wine, is still not great enough to make her introduce herself, but he and the Fates reward the bravery she does show. He half turns and, with a fluid motion of his arm, hands her his card discreetly with a hint of a smile, murmuring, “Call me,” in a voice deep enough to echo in her bones as he does so. The unexpected rumble makes her flush like a child, and this time Meredith knows that her response is external as well as internal. She lowers her face and hurries on, but not before taking in the unusual blue-green colouring of his eyes.
Once inside the restroom, she reads the card:
WILLIAM FARROW, CONSULTANT
DIRECTION CONSULTING
Meredith has never heard of the firm. She rolls his name and title around her mind. “Farrow”—what an ill-fittingly modest name. But she can believe “consultant”, with its hint at importance, its room for ambiguity. She rereads it and carefully places it in an inside pocket of her purse.
Meredith wonders what sort of consultant he is. Surely people would tell that penetrating gaze anything, and she at least would listen to that voice even if it were reading the accounts! She avoids his eye as she walks back to her colleagues, but once safely seated, she meets his enquiring look and nods towards him. She flushes again as he smiles in acknowledgement before they each return their attention to their present company.
As he and his friends leave, not long afterwards, his head turns towards her once more, and that hint of a smile plays across his serious mouth again, as he goes through the door. Seeing and feeling it, she does a silent internal jig of self-congratulation—so out of character, but so exciting.
She memorises his name and periodically fishes the card out of her purse, and allows her fingers to play with it for the rest of the evening. Then, having drunk more than she should, she gets an Uber home.
Despite not really being in a fit state to make conversation, she’s barely able to refrain from calling him when she gets in. Instead, she heads to the kitchen, prompted by her stomach’s reminder that she has not “eaten” anything but red wine tonight. With nothing ready in her fridge, she searches the bread bin and, finding the bread a little stale, decides to make toast. Her efforts at slicing produce two usable though distinctly wonky slices and a small cut on the side of her left index finger.
Meredith briefly mulls over the notion of calling him once more while toasting the uneven slices but, chastened by their doorstop-like shapes and the kitchen-towel wrapped cut, decides against it. She then butters the sort-of slices and eats them as her evening meal before making her way to bed.
She has trouble settling. Her pyjamas, the duvet, and the alcohol she’s drunk make her hot, but when she kicks the covers off, she feels exposed. She gets up, pours herself a glass of water, and opens the window on half lock before trying again. When sleep still eludes her, she allows her thoughts to drift back to the evening. She alternates betw