Carrion: A Story of Passion Read Online Free PDF Page A

soft spot for me, but I hadn’t realised how deeply his cross Atlantic fantasy ran.
    "It's a bloody good job that you can close a deal, Charlotte, because god knows, I don't get it!" She screwed up her mouth and I saw that her face is truly ugly.
    I folded my hands across my chest, protecting myself from the monster in front of me. Silently I cursed my obvious display of cowardice. I knew that I should be approaching the table and slamming my palms down, telling her to get the fuck off my back and to let me get on with it in my own way. I should have told her to go and screw herself because clearly nobody else was doing the job - but I didn’t. I forced myself to unfold my hands and part my legs in a slightly pathetic attempt at making myself seem less subordinate.
    "I don't know how you do it, Charlotte, but your one of our best profit performers. David says I should leave you to it – but that's not my style: I like to nurture potential, to kick a dead horse until it decides it wants to live."
    My brow furrowed at her clumsy, and to be frank, absurd analogy. She prated on about coaching and guidance, and motivation and blah de blah de blah de blah...
     
    Outside, on the window-ledge was a magpie. It tapped on the glass, bewitched by the glitter of the glass in the sun, but Lucy was too far into her own ego to notice it. My eyes ran over its form, noting how one of its feathers stuck out at an odd angle: broken. It turned the creature into something damaged and misshapen.
    I wondered what it was going to be like to cut through the flesh and into the body of a once living thing; to lift out its innards and to turn the skin inside out. I imagined the feel of holding the eyes between my fingers and I contemplated what the dead see. Do the eyes turn inwards to look at the soul? I turned my attention back to Lucy and found myself studying her sculptural form, exploring the bones under her skin. I looked into her eyes and imagined them as shiny glass buttons.
     
    Lucy’s mouth clacked open and shut and it took me a few moments to catch up with what she is saying.
    "... over the last couple of weeks. Is there anything I should know about a change of circumstances?"
    I shook my head and she mistook it at first for an answer to her question.
    "The last couple of weeks?" I repeated, furrowing my brow.
    She nodded and attempted a facial expression of caring and understanding. It looked like she was in pain. "It's just that you've seemed a little preoccupied. I was wondering if you'd been under the weather?"
    "Have I given you concern about meeting my monthly target?" I asked, knowing that it is only the twentieth of the month and I have already surpassed my target.
    "It's not that. It's the way that you are... presenting yourself."
    I glanced in one of the mirrored panels of her cupboards. I was standing straight on black Kurt Geiger stilettos, dressed in a black Austin Reed skirt suit and a Ralph Lauren white shirt. My hair was cropped short and textured. My stockings were not laddered and I had showered that morning. Admittedly, I looked a little tired. Under the harsh fluorescent lights I could see that the pale violet petals under my eyes had been poorly covered by Touch Éclat, but I hardly warranted the, 'you look a mess, get your act together' conversation. I smoothed my hands over my skirt and my fingers caught on the suspender belt underneath. I pressed my lips together to prevent a smile at the thought of my life outside of the office.
    "Well, I'm sorry if I have given a poor impression of late, I'll do my best to ensure that you are more satisfied with my presentation in the future," I said in my most neutral voice.
    She looked at me with an expression that I couldn’t quite read but I got the feeling that somehow our conversation had not been the kind of sadistic pleasure she’d hoped for. Bullying was obviously her fuck replacement, and I had left her sadly disappointed.
     
    The altercation between Lucy and me were