The Voice in the Dark Ch. 01

"Well, surely he must have been warned that he would take over at least some portion of the business?" I ask, with a tinge of sympathy for the poor guy.

"I don't know. Maybe he figured he'd always be the rich, handsome playboy living on his family's money." Gloria chimes in again.

"Oh, look I've got to go. Just please don't mention it to anyone else, okay?" Sarah glares at us, and I smile as if to say: Sure, I'll make sure not to let such a big secret that was told in the middle of a busy office get around.

As Gloria and I go about our business, a figure clad in an immaculate Armani suit comes through the door to the editing department looking absolutely terrified. He has dark circles under his eyes and he nervously plays with his silver cufflinks, as if he would rather be anywhere but here. He brushes his hair back to the point where it sticks up and collapses into a chair in the staff break room. He's pulling on the long silk purple tie as if he wants to strangle himself with it.

Neil Fletcher, our manager, looks at the ceiling whilst leaning back as if to gather his thoughts. Even for a man so addicted to work as Neil, this has knocked him sideways.

"Would you like a coffee, Neil?" I ask gently.

"Oh, hey Jess. Yeah, that would be great, thanks."

I sit across from Neil and he reluctantly confirms everything that Sarah told me, the veins in his temples are throbbing and his body slumps over as if a great weight is pressing down on him.

"I think it's quite sudden to be taking over a company, "I say with a frown.

"He's going to be taking some time over the next few weeks to examine every department thoroughly before he will officially take over. He says he wants to cover all his bases before he begins," Neil says, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous gesture.

"He must be very capable if his Dad has chosen him out of many other relatives." I say, trying to be charitable.

"You're an eternal optimist Jess, but Jack wasn't the one who was going to assume this role originally. God, I hope this kid doesn't need any coaching during this. I'm stressed out enough as it is."

"What I don't understand is..." Neil begins in a worried voice, "Why doesn't Mr. Johnson senior want to continue with owning this company? It's not like he's retiring any time soon." Neil stares at his coffee cup as if he thinks the answers lie at the bottom.

"Maybe he wants to focus on other aspects of the business. I mean, he does run several huge companies and this little publishing house wouldn't be that costly to him if it were to fail," I say, with an edge of sadness in my voice.

The Johnson family are very big moguls in New York with their company The Johnson Brothers, stretching right back to the early nineteen twenties. Apparently, their little newsstand would give daily reports of the stock market to Wall Street traders and were one of the first to really capitalise on the fallout of the media companies following the 1929 Crash. More than likely, they saw the crash coming and they bought up other outlets for cheap, and so they prospered whilst most lost everything they had in a single day.

Since then, they have built up an empire within this historic city. They have moved into journalism, influenced politicians and are even in the process of starting a news network.

The purchasing of this tiny publishing house was considered, at the time, to be a bad investment as it was about ready to declare bankruptcy. A capital investment and new management turned it around, but it is still relatively minor compared to the amount of money they have already invested in all the big newspapers here.

Neil sighs in exasperation. "You know I will be stuck giving him information on this department for the better part of a week when he finally comes here. As if we don't have enough to do, why can't he just send an agent like the Johnsons usually do?"

"Well, if there's anything you need..." I say, hoping he gets the message.

"Thanks Jess. I may just take you up on that."

He then puts his coffee down with a sudden resolve. He straightens his tie and smooths the back of his hair before bidding me farewell with an affectionate smile. I stare after him as he opens the door to his office and silently closes the door. No doubt he'll be using the stress ball on his desk later.

I still have just under an hour before I have to get back to work, and so I go back to my lunch and flick through the recent photos on my phone, making a resolution to call my mother soon.

I haven't given her the exact reasons for my breakup as it was hard to admit that it was over, even to myself. I knew that she wanted us to be married more than anything and so she will be wanting to know why it ended so suddenly. Having no answers, I have been ducking her and Steve's calls for the past couple of weeks.

She is of the belief that a woman can never be truly happy until she is married. She was lost for a long time before she met him, and although I understand why she may think that, I don't know if that's enough to convince me of that belief.

I feel such melancholy at the thought, and I can only hope that we can at least have a civil conversation about Justin when I go home next time.

I don't often go back home and I feel dread at the thought of it instead of relief.

Even my nearest and dearest friends back home still have no idea to this day why there would be any reason to leave my small middle England town.

What could you find out there that isn't already there? they would say and made no attempt to understand my perspective.

My mother was one of the worst for this and had often tried to guilt me into not going. You're too Young she'd say, or You don't know the ways of the world. I shake the unpleasant thoughts aside, then return to my desk fifteen minutes early and I lose myself in a manuscript as best I can.

Whilst I work, I begin to get an odd feeling. I squirm in my seat and stretch as much as I can whilst restricted by my desk. The words on the computer screen show a manuscript that is tedious beyond belief and I ignore it for now, trying to focus through the haze of my own thoughts.

The words twirl across my vision like whirling dervishes and I lean my head on my palm, propped up by my elbow on the desk as I close my eyes.

I try my best to locate the bizarre sensation within my body. My shoulders are relaxed, my eyelids are firmly closed, and my jaw is slightly open as my mind begins to empty and I forget about all that is troubling me for just a moment. Beyond the clouds in my mind and the odd feeling of disconnectedness, it's not altogether an unpleasant feeling.

The only word in my mind is the word Sleep. It's like no other word exists in my vocabulary.

I feel a warmth travel through my veins, like the after-effects of swallowing aged whisky, and I even sway a little as if I were drunk. It's all I can do not to allow my elbow to fold under and my head to drop to the desk as I sink into sleep. Instead, I move my head back against the headrest and my body sinks further into the chair and away from the computer screen.

My hands grip the arm rests as I try to ground myself. Even whilst sitting down the world feels like it's spiralling out of control, and I am convinced that if I let go, even for a second, I will fall down flat on my face. It's like that moment where you fall into bed and you stare up at the ceiling in the darkness of your bedroom. That lovely sweet spot between sleep and wakefulness almost feels like an out of body experience.

The air is stifling, and I find the clothes I am wearing are just too much. It's like being in the centre of the sun despite the number of air conditioners in the office. My black dress clings to my body and I fan the opening of my V-neck collar without really meaning to. I then suddenly see a flash of my bra strap poking out, but it's not the one I remember putting on this morning.

I could have sworn that I put on my everyday bra and knickers this morning but instead I see the black lace bra strap and a tiny flash of purple lace around the edges of the cup. I blush a bright scarlet and hurry to the nearest bathroom.

Just as I suspected.

I had bought this set especially for my last real night out with Justin. I wore it under a very lady-like pantsuit that hugged me in all the right places and drew attention to my cleavage. Pair it with fuck me red heels and Justin couldn't take his eyes off me the whole night.

Without having dessert, we were on our way back to my apartment.

Once there, he'd peeled it off me slowly, kissing my neck from behind before pushing me against the wall and taking me from behind. I still remember the feel of his hand wrapping gently around my throat, squeezing my breasts from behind, and...

Stop it. I chastise myself, not keen to remember what I have been trying for months to forget.

Justin and I had good sex, great sex even, but never with such blatant need and desire before that night. I shudder in pleasure at the thought, looking almost involuntarily at my wrists.

When you lose someone, they take a lot from you, but one of the biggest losses is a partner you can regularly fuck. You give your heart but it's your pussy that suffers from his lack of attention.

I have always loved sex, despite me not losing my virginity until I was in my early twenties. Late by today's licentious standards but I don't regret when I did it, or how long I waited.

The first time I did it was with a boy I met at Uni. It may not have resulted in me climaxing, or falling in love with him but I could, at last, enjoy sex on my own terms.

From that moment on, I had occasional trysts with guys I met when travelling, or on Tinder, and it meant that I could explore my needs and desires without feeling like crap for wanting it. I was far from my little town where everyone knew me and I could be the woman who I wanted to be.

Yet, since Justin walked out on me, I haven't even been able to face making myself cum in the privacy of my bedroom with only my fingers. I felt far too raw and rejected to really revel in my body and enjoy the amazing feeling of orgasm that would make even the worst of problems melt away, if only for a little while.

I look at my reflection in the mirror, and I look better than I have for months.

My eyes have their youthful shine back and my long, brown hair is shiny and healthy-looking. My cheekbones seem less hollow, and my lips are pink and plump.

The weight I lost no longer looks like a delayed reaction to heartbreak but rather it brings out the best parts of my body, even in the harsh light of the girl's bathroom. It seems that just a few days of going out and enjoying myself again have done me the world of good.

I run my hands down my dress, smoothing out the creases and stroke up and down my hips and waist. I stare at my reflection and take stock of the feeling of feminine power running through me, tingling all through my nerves.

I wonder idly if the tingling is having a secondary effect on me and I suddenly find my hand gliding up my thigh and under my dress towards the matching black and purple panties. I check to make sure no one is looking, or about to walk in, and then my fingers slip past the gusset. I am soaked beyond belief. I am so primed and ready that I would practically expire here if the right amount of pressure were applied to my sensitive spot. I wouldn't need any preamble, just to feel something hard inside me or a hot tongue sliding all over my wet pussy. Then I abruptly yank my hand out of my knickers, shocked at my brazen behaviour at work.

I pull a small comb through my hair and reapply my pink lip gloss until I get that shiny pout. The constant redness in my cheeks leaves my artificial colour redundant in my bag and I focus on telling my body to stop shaking, and my mind to stop wandering.

The feeling I had at my desk was overwhelming. Like nothing I have ever felt. I want more than anything to feel it again.

However, I know that I must keep my focus for now, so I gather up my bag and return to my desk. Today feels different somehow, and I think hard for a possible reason as to why I am feeling so peculiar. Not in a bad way, just in a very different way to what I am used to. I can't help but revel in a bit of tiny, secret excitement in this new world order.

My back is ramrod straight as I tap away at the keyboard and I can see that, thanks to my diligence, I have only one hour before my day is over and I can go home. With my arousal subdued for the moment, I let my thoughts roll with the idea of cooking, and eating, a proper nutritious meal instead of living on junk food or skipping meals.

I might go back to the gym or buy some lovely clothes to go out and have fun nights with Lucy like we used to. I even take some comfort in how I will be able to stop avoiding my mother's calls for fear that I will either burst into tears or have to listen to my mum lecture me on how to keep a man in the future.

The future is bright and I think this weekend may have been the turning point. I don't think to question exactly why, despite my curiosity.

I am enjoying feeling liberated from my sadness and I want more than anything for it to stay around for just a little bit longer. I feel just like the woman I was when I first came to New York. Fresh faced and eager to make a life for myself thousands of miles away from home. I enjoyed that larger-than-life feeling in the past, even when I went back to the UK for holidays. I would tell grand tales about The Big Apple to my friends, and I didn't care whether they wanted to hear it or not.

As I sit back in my office chair, I feel like a goddess.

Here I am, with little more than a piece of cloth covering a body that is encased in silk and lace underneath and as I move my thigh a little, my black garter pokes out from under the hem of my black wrap dress ever so slightly. My dirty little secret.

I wonder nonchalantly if they could see into my cleavage if someone were to walk past my desk and gaze at me.

Then, that mysterious heat returns once again, like a fire rising from the pit of my stomach up to the very top of my skull. It then slowly trickles down into my chest and between my thighs. Even through my bra, I can feel the hard points of my nipples and my thighs feel damp as I squirm in my seat. I brush my hands slyly down my hips and around my thighs, feeling the soft cotton of my dress and my head falls back against the headrest once again as I allow my thoughts to wander, biting my lip hard.

"Jess. Jess are you okay?" says a voice from far away. I ignore it, feeling only that delicious fire and its radiating warmth.

"Jess. Are you feeling well?" The voice becomes slightly louder and firmer and it snaps me out of my daydream. I growl under my breath at the interruption.

It's Gloria. She's looking at me as though I have grown two heads and checks my face for anything out of the ordinary. Her eyes are wide with concern and her mouth tightens in the corners as she tries to understand this out of character behaviour.

"Jess. You had the most bizarre look on your face and then you fell back into your chair with such speed that I thought you were having a seizure or something. Do you need a glass of water?"

I pause before I speak, not wanting to say anything that might worry her.

Her interrogation from this morning still looms large in my mind, and I know the questions will resume sooner or later but I can't quite bring myself to do it.

"No, I'm fine Glo. I didn't mean to scare you, but I honestly didn't know I was doing it.

I guess lack of sleep can really do that to you." I pull a face of regret and hope that it's convincing enough for her to let it go for now.

To my surprise, she says, "You know, maybe you need to get out of New York for a day or two. Get a change of scenery. You have been under a lot of pressure these last few months and you could do with getting a bit of space." She sounds worried but doesn't push any further, not until she can get a better reading on me, or so I imagine.

"Yeah. Maybe. I am thinking of going away in a couple of weeks. Maybe you, me and Lucy could go away together again," I say, genuinely excited at the idea.

I remember our trips to upstate New York that were such fun back in the day. I had mourned their loss even when I got together with Justin. Naturally our vacations were coming second to a budding relationship.

Now he is gone, even more opportunities that I thought impossible to consider some months ago, are quickly becoming a reality.

"Definitely. I'd love to." Gloria says with such enthusiasm that it makes me smile at the thought and a plan begins to take shape in my head.

"I'll talk to Luce and see what we can arrange. Maybe we could take a trip to the Hamptons or something like that."

"Sure. Just let me know and we'll bounce some ideas around." Gloria looks much more relaxed around me than I have seen her the last few months and I am glad that my new transformation, whatever that may be, isn't just having an effect on me.

Abruptly, the clock on the wall comes sharply into focus and I become aware that my day has finally come to an end.

"See you tomorrow, Glo. Mind you don't get mugged for that bag," I chuckle, and make my way back to my desk for my things.

As I sweep back my hair from my neck, I look out into the late afternoon scene from the office window. This iconic city has character and class in every square inch, and I take pride in the fact that I have made a home here. The tingles move up and down my arms as I press the button for the lift, or 'Elevator' as they say here, and walk into the empty car, pressing the button for the bottom floor.

The elevator has mirrors on all sides and the floor is lined with a soft, purple carpet that can sometimes feel like it's absorbing your shoes and you along with it. Everything about this building is minimal and yet classy.

It is all done in the style of a man who cares more for the success of his business than the interior design. I would almost describe the office as utilitarian, but the occasional spots of colour on everything from the mustard yellow sofas, to the emerald green from the plants, all help break up the cool palette.

The buttons on the panel light up as they show my descent from the 10th floor. They glow a soft yellow and I can't seem to stop staring at the golden orbs as they slowly fade out the closer I get to the bottom. My eyes feel like they are about to close and my feet ready to give way beneath me. I grab onto the side rails and rest my head against the coolness of the mirrored surface in an attempt to regain control over my breathing.

I have never had trouble in an enclosed space before, and the elevators are wide enough not to cause alarm. So why I am feeling so weird, I am not sure.

The feeling isn't like before. I am alert enough to navigate my way back home but I no longer feel in control of my body. My arms weigh a ton and I drop my handbag, feeling like I am falling as the elevator descends further and further into the building.

The numbers appear before my vision:

5- The heat travels up and down my spine and my feet are rooted to the spot.

4- The feeling travels into my stomach and around my hips.

3- My shoulders slump and I almost fall to the floor but instead my eyes close.

2- I worry in case the elevator stops one floor above my destination. Whatever this feeling is, privacy is afforded only by a few minutes maximum. I have only just hit the rush hour and I know many people will be leaving the building soon.

1- It's like my whole body and senses have shut down and I see only the point of light at the roof of the elevator. I feel like I am going to faint.