Page 22 of Pyg

You’d have to be blind not to notice a woman like Fran, and practically dead not to be charmed by her. Alice had tried, but resistance was futile. Still, she could really do without losing her job, and sometimes it was almost as if Fran was trying to get them caught.

Fran reclined further on the desk, her arms arching behind her, hips angled upward. Heat ripped through Alice, and she squeezed her thighs against the ache gathering between them, breathing away the reckless urge to push everything off her desk, climb on top of Fran and… just screw it all.That’s what she wants, that’s why she’s here.

Fran’s dark eyes danced around Alice’s face, almost as if she were amused — fuelled even — by Alice’s unquenchable want.

“This weekend, I’ve booked us a room at that cutesy little place in the Cotswolds. I’ve told Jeremy that I’ll be away with the Ivywood tennis girls. I was hoping you might be able to?—”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

Fran cocked her head.

“I can’t play tennis. I’m useless at sports or anything to do with balls.”

“Goodness, no… I meant, you know… the outfit. There’s something about tennis whites. Those little skirts and all that bending over.” Fran fanned herself dramatically.

Alice giggled as she flipped the calendar on her desk. “This weekend?”

“What is it? Don’t pretend you have plans that you can’t cancel for me.” Fran flashed a dangerous grin and leaned in to cup her hand around Alice’s cheek.

“It’s just that I’m supposed to be staying with Maggie. She’s planned this whole birthday thing.”

“I’m sure she won’t miss you.”

“Thanks!”

“Oh, you know what I mean.” Fran chortled.

“I said I’d be there, and I always seem to let her down lately.”

“You’re always moaning about your sister and her horrid husband, so what’s the big deal?”

“I know, but...” Alice sighed. Why was she even trying to explain this to Fran?Resistance is futile.“I suppose her birthday isn’t until Sunday, so perhaps I can just spend Sunday with her instead?”

“Attagirl,” said Fran, now propped on her elbow with her hot mouth inches away from Alice’s, so close Alice could taste the velvety butter of that delicious —

“Ahem.”

Alice jerked away, her heart pounding as her eyes darted in the direction of the throat-clearer. In the doorway stood the austere, sharp-cut figure of Doctor Truscote, her steely-eyed gaze flicking from Fran’s face to Alice’s.

Alice opened her mouth to speak, but before any words came forth, Fran sprang up from the desk.

“Catherine. How lovely to see you! You’re looking—” Fran made a show of looking the other woman up and down, and let the end of her sentence hang in the air unfinished.

“Francesca,” Truscote said with a nod, then clenched her thin lips into a tight line. The muscles in her square jaw pulsed as her eyes returned to Alice.

“My afternoon session at The Milverton got cancelled last-minute. I’ll be in my office dictating the notes for the Liversidge files. I’ll need you to type them up ASAP. I’d also appreciate a coffee, when you…” she turned her head slightly towards Fran, but her eyes didn’t drift from Alice’s, “…when you have a moment.” Alice could swear she saw the corners of Truscote’s lips twitch with disgust.

“Sure, I’ll be right there.” Alice’s voice came out half an octave higher than usual.

Truscote nodded and strode across the room. When the heavy oak door clicked to a close, Alice released her held breath with a muted, “Fuuuuck.”

Fran chuckled.

“Why are you laughing right now?”

“Trusty’s got her crusties in a bit of a twist, hasn’t she?”

“Fran, it isn’t funny. This is serious. What if she tells Jeremy what she saw?”

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