Let’s play a game.
Ah, don’t say it’s too early! Or your brain is fried. I know better. Come on! Pleeease!
We’re going to write a little story together. Come on!
Genre: Romantic Comedy
I’ll start with one sentence and then the next person pick up where I left off. One sentence or two but no more! Then the next and next. It’ll be fun. You know it will. I’ll post the final product on my facebook page on Monday.
Jane clomped down the hall in heels she hated, but right now all she had over Amber Donaldson was the three extra inches. Not that height would get her the promotion, but at this point in the game she’d stoop–well not so much stoop– but tower to get any recognition she could. She swung open Jeremy’s door and… (your turn)
Oh and this isn’t for publication so don’t sweat the editing or perfect word choice. Notice, I didn’t. Have fun!
..and saw Jeremy, tilted back in his chair, stockinged feet on the desk.
And next to him were his trademark cowboy books…with three-inch lifts!
Jeremy's mouth opened in shock. "Please, don't tell anyone," he begged. He pointed at the boots. "Jane, without those…I'd still be in the mailroom, filling the bottom rows…"
(Sorry, had to delete version 1 – spelling error!)
blessed-are-the-pure-of-heart.blogspot.com
She couldn't believe it– had she really just walked into the one sure-fire way to land this job? Poor Jeremy, jumping from the mailroom straight into the blackmail room…
"There's nothing to tell, cowboy." Jane gave him a wicked grin. "But if we're talking about favors…well, I could use a–" she glanced at the lifts then back at Jeremy "–tall one. Amber will be here any minute. Do me a favor and charm her for ten minutes."
"And if I don't?"
Jane considered his question, and gave him a wry smile. "Let's just say your reward will be a better motivator than any punishment I could dole out."
Jeremy gave her a slow once-over, one eyebrow raised. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"
"Absolutely. And I'll deliver it right here in the office too."
"Here?"
"Yes!" Jane said the next words slow, hoping to build Jeremy's desire. "A pair of black leather Lucchese classic cowboy boots — with the required three-inch lifts."
"Deal!" He said it a little too enthusiastically. Jane didn't want to waste any time trying to figure out what he was thinking. Instead she returned to the hallway and continued her march toward the elevator.
But the old familiar doubts kept her from pushing the button. She fully intended to go up and fight for this opportunity. Confidence can be such an unsteady companion.
She glanced back down the hall and saw Jeremy watching. He made a slight gesture with his hand. A small wave forward that meant go on you can do it. She looked intently at his smile. Warm, kind, wise and right–she could do it.
She turned and pressed the up button.
The elevator doors opened, and she stepped inside, pressing the number "4". The doors closed and her stomach moved up with the elevator. The lights flickered. The elevator bounced to stop, groaning, screeching. Blackness. Stillness. The doors did not open.
"Jeremy? Uh…the elevator's stuck. Can you hear me?"
Thirty minutes later and Jane was back in the elevator, shoes in one hand and regret in the other. If only she'd remembered it's a lot less painful to put your foot in your mouth when you're not wearing three-inch heels.
Oops. I posted mine before I saw Gwendolyn's. They don't fit. :/
Ah … the challenge now is can someone make them fit??!! 🙂
The historical past of workout solutions goes
back again yet again in direction of the dawn of civilization.
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In between Gwendolyn and Sharyn put.
Jeremy called from the other side of the door, "Just Kidding. I'll turn it back on."
As the elevator sprang back to life, she made a mental note to kill him and bury his body in a shallow grave in the break room.
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