17 July 2009

A Day like Any Other

This is an excerpt from a story

"Brrng! Brrng!! BRRNG!!!" The alarm rang out shrilly at 5.30AM and long beautifully manicured fingers, attached to an equally beautiful slim hand, stretched out from under the thick ocean duvet cover frantically searching for the snooze button to turn it off.
"Oh God...I hate Monday mornings," Guinevere Omolara Adeniyi, otherwise known as Gwen amongst friends, muttered to herself as she woke up this Monday morning and brought her head out from under the covers, "why do mondays have to come around?!" She turned on her side to look at her still sleeping fiance, envying him his ability to sleep through every and anything until his body's own internal clock went off like clockwork at 6.30 when he'd jump right up and be ready to roll in five minutes flat. It infuriated her like hell...she needed at least thirty minutes in the shower, and three cups of coffee before she could be ready for anything.
It was wet and cloudy, a typical Port Harcourt day, rainy season or not, and it suited her 'I hate Mondays' mood perfectly. She counted to five in her head and sat up quickly before she changed her mind and went back to sleep. Her jet black hair flowed down her back and her perfectly sculpted breasts rose as she stretched, the duvet bunched around her waist, giving her the look of an ancient goddess coming out of the sea, the color of the duvet aiding the vision.
"Well, no rest for the wicked...or for those that want to get paid" she exhaled under her breath as she pushed the covers aside and walked in all her naked glory to the bathroom.
"Damn...I hate Mondays"
Thirty minutes later she was dressed and in the kitchen of her apartment sipping on a triple espresso and checking her Blackberry to make sure she had her schedule down pat. Already she'd received fifteen emails from the offices in Boston and Calgary and had to reply all before lunch, and that was just the start. She flicked her slim wrist, looked at her Rado, and noted it was now quarter past the hour. Draining the last of the coffee from her oversized Harvard Alumni mug, she headed for the door, car keys in one hand and leather briefcase in the other, and briefly paused in the hallway to give herself a once over in the mirror that traversed an entire wall, and liked what she saw.
Her severely cut man-style charcoal grey blazer, crisp white T. M Lewin shirt and ash coloured flat-front trousers gave her just the look she wanted...kick ass business tycoon. She wore minimal makeup, just foundation and a light bronze tinted lipgloss. Her gold loop earrings were small and tasteful and the only other jewellery she wore was a charm bracelet given to her by her father for her sweet sixteen, fourteen long years ago. Her hair was secured in a very strict, no nonsense 'schoolmarm' bun and her wire-rimmed glasses were the final touch to the ensemble. What she didn't see was that the severe nature of her outfit actually enhanced her beauty, and the masculine cut emphasised her obvious femininity.
Guinevere wasn't what you would describe as a classic beauty, actually taking her features individually she was quite imperfect. Her nose was a tad too pointed, her eyes a little too far apart and much too big, her forehead a bit too high, her lips a smidge too full, and her chin too small for her long oval face, but taken as a whole, she was breathtakingly unforgettable. She had the look of a fashion model...tall and graceful, but voluptuously curved and she walked, or rather floated, into a room with such unconscious poise and sensuality that men found it hard not to take a second, third and fourth look. What made her even more beautiful was that she was unconscious of the fact that she was the one they were looking at.
The white shirt contrasted perfectly with her latte coloured skin, and its open collar brought focus to her swan-like neck. The tailored blazer did not actually hug her but seemed effortlessly to caress her torso and gave a hint at the body that lay beneath. The slim pants elongated her already long legs, making her seem far taller than her none too shabby 5 foot 9. Her only concessions to feminine vanity were a cloud of Christian Dior's Addict and a pair of, obscenely expensive but ever so sexy, charcoal grey lie leather 3 inch Malano Blahnik maryjanes. Shoes and perfume were her only passion outside work.
As she drove along Evo Road with the 'Morning Drive' on the radio chattering in the background, she contemplated her day and dreaded its close. Dinner with her uncle was always a trial and that was on for tonight.
Her assistant greeted her with a bright 'Good morning, Boss!' that set her teeth on edge and handed her a stack of papers that needed her signature, phone messages and the morning papers, already reviewed and all relevant articles highlighted to make reading easier. It was clearly going to be one of those days.
She quickly went through the stack of messages, dashed off a number of emails, and was so engrossed that she didn't immediately hear the knock on her office door, nor hear the door open.
"Ms. Adeniyi! Mr. Fettelli from Portobello Construction is here...conference room or here?" Ndidi said as she put her head through.
"It's 10 already?" asked a startled Guinevere, not having realized that time had flown so quickly, "alright...in here then"
A sharp rap on the door and Alessandro Fettelli was walked in by Ndidi and at that moment the world went into slow motion, as the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen walked into her office...

(Originally Posted: 19 May 09)

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

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Anonymous said...

Damn I just love you deliver those little details offhandedly like they're a secret that the reader should already be privy to...

Oh my dear...I like! I need not ask for where the second part is...lol...

I love how you write, I think that goes without being said..I wish I...could write remotely like that...

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