The Pink Orchid Ch. 01

Jessica retrieved a paper hanky from her skirt pocket and pressing it between her legs, tottered off to the loo to freshen up, still a bit shaky on her feet.

"Right, now! What the hell was I doing?" said Dick.

His laptop was staring back at him with a sullen expression. As if to spite Dick for his lack of attention and to make its point, the screen suddenly blacked out and it powered down into standby mode. Dick continued to stare at the blank screen. He was still, mentally, 'up to the hilt' in Jessica's jeweled scabbard.

Mmm, he thought. She has certainly livened up the old office.

"Jessica. Pet? Could you make us a brew?" he shouted out into the empty reception area.

He reached over to the desk drawer and pulled out his old coconut mixing bowl, containing his tobacco pouch, a short stick of Moroccan black cannabis, blue rolling papers, and strips of cardboard he used to roll into filters. In a short time, he had himself a single skin reefer put together. He revolved around on his chair, opened the window, and inhaled deeply on the illegal cocktail of Marijuana and tobacco. "Smokin' da herb," as he called it, was a habit he had picked up as a student, and something he had never got bored of. The drug seeped into his brain and drained him of what little thought there was left there.

Looking out of his office window, the street below was busy, dirty, and uninteresting, but Dick stared down at it, transfixed, lost in a timeless world, where nothing needed to be done, and not doing it was definitely the best thing to do.

A large, colourful hat, similar to those worn to Ladies Day at Aintree horse races, was being cat walked down the street by a very shapely pair of legs. A sparkling multicoloured handbag, swung from a bespoke tailored suit jacket, and cigarette smoke rose from under the brim.

Dick's eyes followed the lady as she walked confidently down the scruffy street. She crossed the road and disappeared into the lobby of his building. Shortly after, there was a rapping at the office door. Dick snapped out of his mellow daze.

"Bloody hell," he said. "That's the hat and legs for sure."

"Jessica. Jessica. Where the hell are you?"

"Coming, Mr. Larson."

Dick smiled to himself, and was just dipping back into the memory of the last ten minutes, when there was another knock at the door, and this time it opened.