Dial M for Maisie- part one

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
An homage to the 'pulp fiction' stories that I really enjoy, this story is inspired by a conversation with a friend- her line manager has it in for her!!! Or so she says. A tale of a besotted older man, a flirty younger woman, and the danger and deceit that entangles their lives.

Submitted: March 26, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 26, 2012



Dial M for Maisie


Chapter One

Where do I start?  From the beginning?  My life up till now has been pretty uneventful, so let’s skip over the details, shall we?  I’m 43, and in my time I’ve been a chef, hospital porter, door to door salesman- pretty much every mundane, thankless job you can think of.  I’m doing ok now, I turned my life around, work for a Blue Chip company, got a home and a good woman waiting for me.  Yes, I had a sweet life, until the day I met Maisie.

 Maisie started working for the same company, first as a receptionist, and then when a position opened up in Accounts they obviously thought she had the brains to match her looks and took her on.  She was fun, 24, and a redhead.  I’ve always been a sucker for redheads, don’t really know why if I’m honest, might be the fiery temper, or the freckles.  It was all harmless fun- at first.  She was an out and out flirt, and I played along. Of all the guys in the office, she singled me out, and to this day I have no idea why. We’d meet accidentally by the water cooler a few times a day, very often she’d tell me some outrageous things about herself, or showed me a photo on her phone of her latest lingerie acquisition.  I just stood there, with my tongue hanging out like a cartoon dog, lapping it all up. 

Maisie was a real cutie, slim, pretty face, green eyes. I called her cupcake- she was good enough to eat!!  I was smitten- infatuated with her.  She told me all about her boyfriend, though it sounded like things were bad between them, she’d often have a tear in her eye when she sold me a sob story.  All I could think about was running away with her, taking off into the sunset.  Not that she ever gave me the impression we’d ever be running anywhere together.  Looking back, I realise I’d been played for a sucker from the word go.

Company outings were the worst, out of the office all the other, younger guys would swarm around her like bees to pollen- I was the one that wanted to pick that flower.  I got so jealous- I’d tie myself up in knots wishing they’d all leave her alone.  Guess I could have stayed home, hell, I SHOULD have stayed home.  She loved the attention, sipping these guys’ beers, eating their chips, laughing at their crummy jokes.  The only guy who didn’t pay her attention was Bill, her Line Manager.  Seems he’d had someone else in mind for the job that Maisie got, and he was determined to make her life hell.

 Bill Cole- what a piece of work this guy is, or was, should I say.  Worked his way from the bottom up, well, up as far as he was ever gonna get.  Line Manager in Accounts, responsible for nine of the companies prettiest workforce- all female between 19 and 36, all well dressed, well mannered, and under his command.  He hated Maisie for several reasons.  He had someone else lined up for the job, some airhead bimbo who showed not much accounting acumen but a hell of a lot of leg at the interview, but Human Resources decided Maisie was the better choice.  He liked to think of the girls in Accounts as his property, and he didn’t like the fact that Maisie spent so much time with me.  Rumour had it that he’d tried to work his way through most of the “Accounting Angels”, as the rest of the company called them, but Maisie had blanked him from the word go.  He was a sharp dresser- always immaculately turned out, but his pencil moustache made him look like a character from a nineteen fifties movie gangster.  He even drove a convertible, and wore driving gloves.  The guy was a walking cliché.  He spelled trouble for Maisie, and before too long, he'd spell it for me, too.


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