Page 51 of Alice Carver Manifests Her Perfect Life
My thoughts and reflections:
Got to work forty-five minutes late this morning, hair in a crazy bun, wearing yesterday’s make-up and work outfit, carrying a residual whiff of lime and tequila and lamb, and experiencing more than just a touch of nausea. I was just waiting for the lift, sipping Lucozade, and rifling through my bag on the floor for more Nurofen when I sensed someone behind me. I could smell the cedar and musk.Oh no, I thought, slowly standing up,please don’t let it be him. Not until I’ve got to the loos and done my make-up. I looked over my shoulder. Fuck.
‘Ah,’ said Guy Carmichael, his eyes narrowing as he gave me a rapid once-over. ‘Good morning, Alice. Or should I say good afternoon?’
‘Er, yes. Sorry I’m late.’ I wondered how rough I looked and whether he was going to go annoyed-employer on me or whether he was going to continue where we left off last week.
‘Doing something special last night, Alice? With the boyfriend?’
‘Just a couple of drinks after work.’ I swallowed my pills and screwed the lid back on my Lucozade. ‘No boyfriend.’
‘Interesting,’ he said, staring at the lift doors.
We both stood there for a moment, waiting, and then he reached across for the call button.
‘Excuse me,’ he said, leaning just past me so that the sleeve of his navy blue cashmere overcoat slightly brushed my breast.
I swear it was deliberate. There was plenty of room.
‘Of course,’ I said, not moving, to see if he’d brush against me again.
He did.
The doors pinged open, interrupting my lascivious thoughts.
‘After you,’ said Guy Carmichael.
Oh my goodness. This was like a fantasy come true: we were going to be in the lift together. Alone. My skin went on high alert. I could feel him come in, closely behind me – that man certainly knew how to fill a space. It boded well.
‘Um, so do you want the seventeenth floor?’ I checked, keeping my voice steady.
‘I do.’ Guy Carmichael watched me as I pressed the button. As the doors closed I was intensely aware that it was just him and me in the lift. He didn’t say anything and neither did I, but it felt like he was looking at me the way I looked at that kebab last night, voracious and ready to go to town. However, just in case he wasn’t, and was in fact wondering about the slight smell of doner special sauce coming from me, I didn’t launch myself across and snog him. Instead, I stood there, mirroring him. Silent. Staring back. Hypnotised by his sheer charisma and power. Then, just when I thought I couldn’t take it any longer and I was going to involuntarily make a move and risk both rejection and unemployment, he took a step towards me, a predatory look in his eyes. ‘So, Alice,’ he said, his voice low. ‘Alice, Alice, Alice… ’
A prickle of excitement danced up my thighs. He was coming on to me. ‘Yes?’ I moved towards him.
‘I’ve been thinking… ’ he said.
But the bloody lift doors pinged open on the ninth floor, and so we both took steps back, and Sweater-vest Gareth from Accounts stepped in, and said hello to us both, then immediately looked uncomfortable because Guy Carmichael is the kind of man who makes most other men feel uncomfortable at the best of times.
Guy tutted with irritation. ‘Garth. Can’t you afford sleeves?’
Gareth looked at his sweater vest and his short-sleeved shirt and then back at Guy and said, ‘It’s just how they come.’
And Guy said, ‘It looks fucking awful, Garth.’ Guy constantly says things that would have anyone else hauled into HR for a chat. His audacity is part of his armour.
‘It’s Gareth,’ said Gareth quietly.
‘That’s what I said. Get someone to take you shopping and buy something with sleeves.’
‘I get hot,’ explained Gareth.
‘Show some respect to the ladies. Cover it up. Lovely Alice here doesn’t need to see your little forearms. No one needs that in January.’
He’d called me lovely, but it didn’t really register, because Gareth’s ears were going red and whilst Guy was pure sexual magnetism, he needed to back off. Gareth’s got the air of an asthmatic to me, and besides, he’s demonstrably a committed sweater-vest man. I was just about to interject, but the lift pinged again on twelfth and Verni from the exec team entered and immediately pounced on Guy, asking, ‘Can I have a few minutes?’
And Guy said, ‘We’ll have to walk and talk.’
And so I didn’t get to hear what he’d been thinking…
