Free Tim Connor Hits Trouble by Frank Lankaster

term.’
    ‘I noticed,’ she smiled slightly mocking but not unfriendly. ‘What else were you going to suggest besides your hero Mills’ book and your own… er… blockbuster?’
    ‘Well,’ Tim spluttered his mind suddenly blank of any title. Erica Botham rescued him from further embarrassment.
    ‘Listen, you’re not the first author to push their own work. Make sure this guy has got your recommendations and then why don’t we have a coffee? I was going to contact you anyway. It seems we’re teaching on some of the same modules.’
    ‘Don’t worry. I’ve got the recommendations,’ said the Guevara look-alike battling a smirk. Straightening his facehe added brightly ‘By the way, there’s a coffee and cake shop upstairs.’
    Tim was grateful to exit from the ludicrous situation he had created.
    ‘I could use a coffee. Why don’t we give upstairs a try?’
    ‘Ok, let’s do that. I know the place. It’s a bit twee but quite pleasant.’
    ‘I’ll buy,’ said Erica as they entered the coffee shop, ‘why don’t you grab that table by the window before it gets taken. What would you like?’
    ‘A double espresso.’
    ‘And a cake?’
    ‘I feel more like a sausage roll if that’s ok?’
    ‘It’s ok, but you look more like a cake.’
    They both smiled, Tim ruefully fearing that Erica had decided that he was, indeed, a bit of a cake-head.
    ‘A double espresso and sausage roll it is then.’
    ‘Actually I could manage a couple of rolls.’
    ‘Just this once, then,’ her lips pouted in simulated disapproval.
    Usually he preferred to take the initiative with women he was attracted to, but he found himself drawn in by the confident way Erica teased him and took control. It helped that she was every bit as beautiful as he remembered from his interview.
    Tim watched her as she waited in the queue. Her physical impact aside, she seemed quite different than in the semi-paranoia of his interview. Then, she had come across as coldly beautiful, a not quite human, perfect replicant. Now she was engaging and weirdly enticing. Her hair, a pure, natural blond, was streaked pink and green to the nape of her neck from where, caught in a tight band, it cascaded half way down her back. It was so thick and glossy that Tim found himself wondering how it felt to touch. Her eyes were a light metallic blue under violet make-up. She wore a tight purple synthetic jacket and matching skirt.The gleaming fabric stretched against the high points of her breasts and buttocks.
Christ Almighty that is a shape from heaven
… Lifting his gaze he found himself looking straight into her translucent eyes. She winked and smiled, her mouth a purple-painted rosebud on a bed of pearls.
    She must know the effect she creates
. His balls stirred appreciatively and his cock began to stiffen. Not now, he tapped the bulge in his trousers reprovingly,
not appropriate
. The response was stiffer still. He buttoned his jacket and shifted his chair further under the table in search of cover. He picked up the menu and began reading it with fierce concentration.
    Erica made her way from the counter and placed the coffees, cake and sausage rolls on the table. ‘We’re lucky to get a table by the window. You can see most of Miller Street from here, right down to the cathedral.’ She noticed that Tim appeared more interested in his sausage rolls than in the prime view of Miller Street. One carnal appetite had taken over from the other.
    ‘You look like you’re ready for those.’
    ‘Yeah … I had a couple of pints earlier on an empty stomach. Beer always makes me feel hungry. I met Henry Jones in the
Mitre
for a chat about next term’s teaching. We didn’t talk much about work but at least I got a rough outline of my timetable.’
    ‘That sounds like Henry. He’d still be doing his teaching in the pub, like he did thirty Years ago, if he thought he could get away with it. He and Howard Swankie don’t get on, as I’m sure you’ll find out.