Hot Chips and Sand 156-160 Draft Comparison

Hot Chips and Sand
Copyright © 2013 Mary Hughes
All rights reserved

It was personal, and terribly, terribly unprofessional. She was grateful he didn’t embrace her, which would have confirmed she was too thin-skinned to play in the big boys’ sandbox; even worse it would’ve shown he didn’t truly understand. Either would kill her a little inside. [M1] 

But he did rub her shoulder consolingly as she worked it out. It was nice.

When she had wound down to red eyes and sniffles, she told him, “You know, they say that cryingsaid, “Crying is the absolute worst thing you can do in a business environment.  That it’sIt’s a sign you’re not professional. And here I’ve done it twice, within front of the CEO for that matter. . I guess that proves I’m not cut out to be a professional.”

Cliff took her chin gently in one hand.  “You’re not professional?  Well, maybeshook his head. “Maybe they wouldn’t think so at Stuffed Shirt Corporation, but. But not here.”

Vickie looked up at him,; she felt her heart was in her eyes.

He went on speaking, his voice matter‑of‑fact. “In my opinion,gave her an understanding smile. “You know what I think? I think a real professional admits their problems and shortcomings, personal and business, and then does the job anyway.  Vickie, I think you’re a person who canYou [M2] do that.”

 

            “I don’t know.  She rubbed her nose. “I thought you had to be perfect.”

 

            Cliff smiled slightly.  “It seems “Sure, if you buy into that maybe you’ve bought in to that other style of professional, that professionalism—the uptight, anal‑retentive kind that can’t integrate theirdifferent parts of life.” He watched her closely.

She nodded glumly. She couldn’t integrate working for him, working with him, being friends with him, and definitely not this physical need for him.

 

            “Vickie, He sighed. “I’m not going to try to talk you into being my lover. That’s not fair to you. But I do want you to understand my feelings on being human and professional. Think about it.”

 

            Vickie sighed.  This only confirmedVickie wiped her eyes. Being human and professional. He really got it.  She could live with him, both at work and at home.  If only he would care about her.[M3] 

 

            She wouldShe’d have said something then, embarrassed herself by asking him if he did care even a little, but Cliff released her chin and .

But he went on. “Anyway, I think we’ve done all the damage we can do here. I recommend we shower, get some food and get back to work. I could eat a moose, hooves and all.”

 

            MaybeThat brought some normalcy back. She decided now was definitely not the time to go into it. feelings. If he was hungry, and she knew from experience, he was not going to be thinking of much else until he was fed.  But she couldn’t resist asking, “Do you really mean that, about being human and professional?”

But while, after that workout, she certainly could use a shower before going out in public, she’d never used the one in the locker rooms, having been warned by John they were irritable like Grumpy Cat. “I didn’t bring a towel.”

“There’s a supply closet just outside the stalls. Towels are there, shampoo and extra soap too. Just drop the towel in the hamper when you’re done.” His stomach growled. “Let’s get going.”

“Okay.” She turned from him to head for the women’s locker room. Stopped and asked without turning, [M4] “Did you really mean that, about being human and professional?”

“Hopefully you know by now I mean what I say. C’mon, now, let’s go get shower and something to eat. I’ll even share my dessert.”

“Well, how can I resist such a selfless offer?” She walked as sprightly as she could away from him, into the women’s locker room.

Once she gained the safety of the closed door, she sank back against it, utterly miserable.  ‘Oh, Victoria Lynn, you’ve gone and She’d just [M5] told the best goddamdamn man you’veshe’d ever met you don’tthat she didn’t want to be his lover—when you know that’sthat was all you wantshe wanted to do.’

She heard Cliff banging his locker; odd, she hadn’t heard it when they came down here.  before. She bit her lip and fought back tears again.  ‘He’s different than Cliff wasn’t Ron,. He proved that just now, proved he does care about you.  If you weren’t such a prig you could havecared about her. Sure, maybe he didn’t want to be her one-and-only, but what was wrong with having at least part of him.  Grow up, Vickie.’ ? Carpe diem, as Grandpa used to say.

The thought galvanized her. She pulled herself uprightstraightened and dragged overwent to the small locker.  She began to fantasize about him. What would it be like, being Cliff’s lover? She pulled the shoulder of her leotard off[M6] , imagining that Cliff’shis hands were doing it. She rolled it over her breasts, seeing Cliff’shis eyes riveted to her. Her hands pushed the stretch material over her hips. She bent over, dreaming that she was exposing her most private areas for him.  She heard the bang of a

A door, and the banged[M7] . The sharp hiss of a shower next door.  I’d told her she’d better get a move on, she thought. . Now would not be the time to be late.

Vickie quickly pulled off the rest of her clothes and hurried carefully onacross the ceramic tile, her bare feet making little pungs on the floor in her impatience, and confusion and black sorrow.  ‘Maybe a good hot shower will get me back into it.  Besides, there’s. She’d blown it for today. But there was always tomorrow. , right? Great, just put meher in an antebellum gown on the steps of Tara, I’ll be fine.’  The. She spun the shower dial. Water blasted out cold; she gasped and quickly foundgrabbed the knob to adjust it to less than arctic temperature.

“Gotcha, didn’t it? I forgot to warn you about that. These showers are a bit temperamental.”

Vickie jumped. Cliff’s voice seemed quite near, and Vickie. She scanned the stall. It took a moment to find the section of wall opened, above her, apparently open between the two showers. “Cliff, is that you?”

“You were expecting maybe Wally Cox?  Or Andrew Dice Clay? the Spanish Inquisition?[M8]  No, John just finally got around to calling the plumbers in. That wall was opened for repairs to this cranky plumbing.”

“Are you sure you don’t have a ladder over there? I mean, for the repair work and all?” Vickie stepped under the shower, wet her hair and began to lather shampoo but she still kept, keeping one eye on the hole.

“Scout’s honor, Vickie. But if it’ll help, I’ll be glad to talk to you. Or better yet, sing.”

 

            “Oh, lawsy“Sweet Simon Cowell, not another bathroom CarusoStar Search.”

Cliff began to warble tentatively. “Mi, mi, mi,mi. . Ah, such good acoustics. I never could see why opera wasn’t performed in the shower instead of a great drafty barn. Okay, now. Vesti, Pagliacci.  Cliff.” He swarmed up to the high note and cracked broadly. “Say, remind me to tell you how tenors really get to the high ones.”

Vickie sighed to herself.  ‘You know, I‘She could even live with his singing.  I must beShe was an incredible dope.’  Or he’s an in credible man, a little inner voice reminded. She began to soap her body, trying unsuccessfully to avoid stimulating her over workedoverworked libido.

Cliff began again, this time with something he called Madama Butterfly. He briefly sounded as though he were drowning, then began again.

“What did you ever do with all the money your mom gave you for singing lessons?” Vickie assayed this little dig, hoping he would take it as a sign of her professional resilience (hoping he would still like her[M9] )..

“Ha.” Cliff forced his voice like a rusted locomotive up the mountainside, creaking precariously among the high notes.  “Ouch!”, Vickie said.  A bar of soap had just hit her in the head.

“Ouch!” A bar of soap had just hit her in the head.

“Hey, where’d my soap go?” asked Cliff.

“Here, on my head,” she called back. “I probably have a concussion. What were you doing, anyway?”

“Just putting a little oomph into it. I must have shot it through the gap in the wall. I bet I couldn’t do itthat again in a zillion years,” he said wonderingly.            .”[M10] 

Vickie picked up the soap from the floor. This was his soap. It smelled like him. She closed her eyes and filled her lungs with the scent.

“Hey, Vickie, just toss it back over to me.”

She imagined herself to be the soap, gliding over each wonderful, strong curve of his body, secretly kissing every part of him.

“Okay, Vickie, I promise not to sing any more; just give me back my soap.”

 

            She tasted the soap, separating the acrid flavors of the soap and scent into components, identifying the small bits of taste that were Cliff.

[M11] 

            “. Vickie?”

           

            VickieShe took a long, ragged breath. It was time to stop playing games. With herself, with Cliff, with any time they might have left together.  The realization made her She took another breath to tell him. Her heart dropdropped dizzyingly into the pit of her stomach. Her throat dried and she could barely speak.  Her knees trembled, but

But she forced herself to say the words. “Why don’t you come and get it?”

There was a stunned silence, then Vickie heard thethe other shower turned off. A faint creak from Cliff’s shower door open. . A few moments of breathless anticipation.

Her door opened. She turned in the shower, one arm crossing her breast to her shoulder, the other holding the soap out, trying not to tremble. The steam boiled across the door and cleared.

Cliff filled the doordoorway, motionless as though carved from rock. The powerful beauty of his naked body struck Vickie physically. Hair was plastered over his brow, making tiny rivulets down his jaw, neck, torso, trickling down his smooth tanned skin.

---

 [M1]I'll have to check the transition here. On rereading it strikes me as a rehashing of the conflict without adding anything to it.

 [M2]Too many words. See how cluttery all the "I thinks" and "you're a person who" are?

 [M3]Again, the certainty of one-and-only is too soon--and more importantly too pat--for the modern market.

 [M4]This addition is because in the first version of this story, they're working out on day one (there's even less time to get to know each other). When I added the two weeks' working vacation for them to bond, I simply crammed it before this scene without much change. I know better now :) This corrects that transition.

 [M5]Again, the modern form of internal dialogue is third-person close POV or italicized thoughts, not single quote.

 [M6]This and the following was originally Vickie beating up on herself for her very valid concerns. While some real women can carry loads of unnecessary guilt, it makes Vickie less sympathetic to the reader as a heroine and is really not in her character.

 [M7]Good example of the difference cutting the filter word (heard) makes. See how much more immediate the impact is?

 [M8]The very latest in 80s refs :)

 [M9]Yikes.

 [M10]Trust your reader and your writing. If you've showm what the hero's feeling you don't need to explain it too.

 [M11]Could be sexy but I have a cold while I'm editing this and today its kinda yucky.

Hot Chips and Sand 151-155

Hot Chips and Sand
Copyright © 2013 Mary Hughes
All rights reserved

Chapter Ten

The last Friday of Cliff and Vickie’s vacation from corporate responsibilities saw them competing again, in the company gym.

“I don’t…know why…you do this,” puffed Cliff.

Vickie couldn’t even answer. Her lungs hurt too much. But she was half a flight of stairs ahead of him. Totally worth it.

In the last minutes of their routines, Cliff made an awesome comeback. But if she could hold on, it would be the first time she’d actually made more stairs than he had. She dug deep for every spare bit of energy, burning sheer willpower in the last seconds. She knew she would pay dearly for it in the morning.

But as the routine ended she glanced over and saw she’d won…er, got more stairs. So totally worth it.

Cliff tottered painfully over to the bench. Vickie tottered behind, grateful to collapse on the bench next to him.

But Cliff took a few deep breaths and managed to slow his breathing from freight train to nearly normal. The cheater. He smiled. “Ready for another round?”

She whacked him with the palm of her hand against his muscular shoulder. The satisfying smack stung. “Ow.” She nursed her hand against her breasts.

“Serves you right.” He smirked.

“Does not.” Damn. She was going to have to work on her comebacks.

“Does too.” Cliff grinned and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “Your CEO abuse is highly frowned upon in these here parts.”

“Ha.” She was finally getting her breath back. “CEO stands for Cliff’s Ego’s Obstinate.”

“That’s reaching a little.” Cliff flung his arms over the back of the bench, tilting his face up. Suddenly his grin of savored effort became a rictus of pain. “Yeowch! Got a cramp on my shoulder. Does it hurt!”

Vickie sprang to her feet. “Put your arm back down and hold still.” She scooted around the back of the bench. When he’d creaked and groaned his arm into place she pressed fingers into his back between his shoulder blades, and slowly felt the vast acreage for the knotted muscle. “It’s a good one.” She located the offending tissue and began massaging. “Sit still and we’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

Yikes. Fixed up in no time, how June Cleaver. Although finally touching these lovely, warm, broad shoulders was soooo nice…

She mentally slapped herself. “This is your fault, you know. If you hadn’t gone and made this a contest, you wouldn’t have gotten a cramp. What a macho!”

“My fault?” Cliff’s tone was aggrieved. “Who reset her machine to compete with mine?”

“You didn’t have to raise the ante.” The knot under her fingers began to ease. Vickie’s fingers relaxed in response. With a will of their own, her hands began stroking his shoulders and straying to his chest. His lovely, oh-so-caress-able chest…caress? In a definitely not-caressing move, she dug her fingers savagely into his bulging triceps.

Cliff yelped in agony. “I thought massage was supposed to stop it from hurting.”

“Sorry.” She let up a bit, not trusting herself to say anything more. Since she’d realized she was falling in love with Cliff, she’d been especially careful to keep things light and frothy. If he even guessed she considered him marriage material…that was too damned close to lovesick. She knew he’d push her away, and she’d lose even their enjoyable friendship.

But it was hard, and her growing emotions pushed her, if not to make it a lasting relationship, at least to take it the next step, into the physical.

She struggled to keep her mind on the task at hand. Don’t think about any thing else, especially not that back. Keep those visions of masculine muscles out of your mind. Hard, thick muscle roping miles-wide shoulders… Okay, that didn’t work. So thing of something, anything else. Like their competition…so much fun. No, like eating while they worked…meals shared, watching his sharp white teeth bite into a sandwich, masculine lips moving… Crap. Okay, since that didn’t work, pretend you’re petting Dad’s dog…

Her strokes had softened again. Cliff relaxed, his head lolling onto her middle. It felt right, there against her body. She sighed, gave up and just enjoyed. She stroked his shoulders, neck and back, surveying the terrain and storing all the data for later retrieval. He sighed in reply, his tension seeming to flow from him, his head relaxing completely against her. She cradled him between her arms as she continued to caress his upper shoulders. Gradually the realization dawned—they were alone together.

Her hand strayed over his shoulder onto his chest. He took her hand and brushed it with his lips. His breath was warm. She bent over slightly.

He turned up and back, his mouth opened to say something.

Their eyes met and locked, the air suddenly crackling with tension.

With exquisite slowness their lips met in a kiss. At first tentative, the soft sliding of skin, the barest tasting of breath, each touch urging more, each taste priming a deeper one, until finally her lips parted in invitation and he thrust his tongue boldly into her mouth.

Her  heart missed a beat, dropped down to swell her belly, leaped back into her throat and finally settled in her breast, pounding at the bones of her chest, clamoring and clanging in excitement. She cupped his face and came around the bench. He cradled her face in return and stood. Her arms wound tightly around his shoulders, pulling them together.

His breathing was strong and vital. She’d never known anything like it. How anyone could express their openness and desire through their breathing was a new revelation in communication. Her body folded into his, molding to the hard planes of his body. She stroked his back as he released her face with one hand and stroked her hair.

No man had tasted anything as wonderful as Cliff. With a little moan she thrust her tongue into his mouth in return. His hand glided down her hair to her back, then her hip, tugging her into him. She reciprocated, her hands wandering in an idyllic garden walk down his well‑muscled back to his taut buttocks. His hand—oh, his clever hand—cupped her rear and massaged gently. Her legs grew weak and her pelvis flowed into molten lava.

“Vickie, sweetheart.” Cliff’s arousal pressed insistently against her, and for the first time she couldn’t find any excuses, not that he wanted his brassboard nor that he was trying to butter her up for the job.

He wanted her.

She trembled with excitement. His kisses came hot and fluid over her mouth, increasing in fervor. Not only did he want her, but he wanted her now.

But while she wanted him with body, heart and maybe even soul, he hadn’t given her the least sign that he wanted her in any way but this. Echoes of Ron, her broken engagement and lost job thudded painfully in her chest. She’d lost everything.

She couldn’t go through that again.

She broke away from him, feeling as though a part of herself was tearing away. “Cliff, please stop. I—I can’t do this.

His face tensed; his eyes hardened.

“I really want to, but I can’t, I just can’t. I’ve worked too hard to be professional, and these office romances always turn out sour.” She turned away and tried to put on her corporate mask, to rebuild the crumbling wall that protected her. She erected it too hastily; she turned back and the way he looked at her—equal parts anger and disdain, but both underlined with pain—made her want to shrivel into a worm.

It was the pain that made her suck in  her breath. Haltingly, fearfully, she told him about Ron.

She didn’t dare look at him while she talked. She finished up with, “After Ron left, I put my whole self into my new job. I worked hard to get back my self‑respect, and it’s tied up in my career and I can’t lose it again. If I go to bed with you and it doesn’t work…Cliff, don’t you see? I’ll have lost my self-respect, my job…and worse, your friendship. I can’t handle that.” Hesitantly, she raised her eyes and finally looked at him.

His gaze was intent, seeming to peer into her psyche. Then his eyes softened. “I understand. It’s okay.”

That softness, that understanding…she did something she swore she’d never, ever do again. She broke down and cried. Really bawled this time.

Hot Chips and Sand 151-155 Draft Comparison

Hot Chips and Sand
Copyright © 2013 Mary Hughes
All rights reserved

Chapter 10Ten

The last Friday of Cliff and Vickie’s vacation from corporate responsibilities saw them competing, again, in the company gym.

“I don’t…know why…you do this,” puffed Cliff.

Vickie couldn’t even answer. Her lungs hurt too badly. much. But she was half a flight of stairs ahead of him, and she grinned wickedly. Totally worth it.[M1] 

In the last secondsminutes of their routines, Cliff made an awesome comeback, but Vickie held on.  It was. But if she could hold on, it would be the first time she’d actually made more stairs than he had. She dug deep for every spare bit of energy, burning sheer willpower in the last seconds.[M2]  She knew she would pay dearly for it in the morning.

But as the routine ended she glanced over and saw she’d won…er, got more stairs. So totally worth it.

Cliff startedtottered painfully over to the bench, but by the time. Vickie made it there, he had recovered somewhat.  He smiled,tottered behind, grateful to collapse on the bench next to him. [M3] 

But Cliff took a few deep breaths and managed to slow his breathing only a little fast. from freight train to nearly normal. The cheater. He smiled. “Ready for another round?”

She whacked him with the palm of her hand against his muscular shoulder.  It made aThe satisfying smack, but cost her.  stung[M4] . “Ow,” she muttered[M5] , pulling the.” She nursed her hand back and nursing itagainst her breasts.

“Serves you right,” he noted.” He smirked.

“Does not.” Damn. She was going to have to work on her comebacks.

“Does too.” Cliff grinned and stretched his long legs out in front of him.  ““Your CEO abuse is highly frowned upon in these here parts.”

“Ha.” She was finally getting her breath back. “CEO stands for Cliff’s Ego’s Obstinate.”

“That’s reaching a little.” Cliff flung his arms over the back of the bench, tilting his face up.  “Shit!” he cursed, and the Suddenly his grin of savored effort became a rictus of pain.  ““Yeowch! Got a cramp on my shoulder. Does it hurt!”

Vickie was instantly solicitous. sprang to her feet. [M6] “Put your arm back down and hold still,” she instructed as she got up and .” She scooted around the back of the bench.  She felt with herWhen he’d creaked and groaned his arm into place she pressed fingers and located the into his back between his shoulder blades, and slowly felt the vast acreage for the knotted muscle. “It’s a good one,” she said as she began massaging.” She located the offending tissue.  “Just sit and began massaging. “Sit still and we’ll have ityou fixed up in no time.”

            Inwardly, she cursed and blessed the moment.  ‘You sound like June Cleaver,’ she ragged.  ‘‘Fixed up in no time’ is so dippy.  But this is nice, rubbing the very shoulders you’ve longed to touch[M7] .’

            Yikes. Fixed up in no time, how June Cleaver. Although finally touching these lovely, warm, broad shoulders was soooo nice…

She mentally slapped herself. “This is your fault, you know. If you hadn’t gone and made this a contest, you wouldn’t have gotten a cramp.  God, whatWhat a macho!”

“My fault,” Cliff retorted in an ?” Cliff’s tone was aggrieved tone. . “Who reset her machine to compete with mine?”

            The cramp “You didn’t have to raise the ante.” The knot under her fingers began to ease and. Vickie’s fingers relaxed in response. With a will of their own, her hands began stroking his shoulders and straying to his chest. ‘ I’ve wanted to His lovely, oh-so-caress his body for so long no-able chest…caress!?’

            She dug ? In a definitely not-caressing move, she dug her fingers savagely into his bulging tricep.  triceps.

Cliff yelped in agony. “I thought massage was supposed to stop it from hurting.”

“Sorry.” She let up a bit, not trusting herself to say anything.  more. Since she’d realized she had fallen so deeplywas falling [M8] in love with Cliff, she hadshe’d been especially careful to keep things light and frothy. If he even guessed she considered him perfect marriage material, she…that was too damned close to lovesick. She knew he’d push her away, and she’d lose even their friendly encounters would evaporateenjoyable friendship.

But it was hard, and her emotional attraction madegrowing emotions pushed her, if not to make it almost impossible to suppressa lasting relationship, at least to take it the next step, into the physical one.

            ‘Keep yourShe struggled to keep her mind on the task at hand. Don’t think about any thing else, especially not that back. Keep those visions of masculine muscles out of your mind.  Empty your mind, Vickie. Hard, thick muscle roping miles-wide shoulders… Okay, since that doesn’tdidn’t work,. So thing of something, anything else.  Okay, since that doesn’tLike their competition…so much fun. No, like eating while they worked…meals shared, watching his sharp white teeth bite into a sandwich, masculine lips moving… Crap. Okay, since that didn’t work, pretend you’re petting Dad’s dog.  Ha!’…

Her strokes had softened again, and now. Cliff had relaxed, his head into her stomach.  Her handslolling onto her middle. It felt right, there against her body. She sighed, gave up and just enjoyed. She [M9] stroked his shoulders, neck and back, surveying the terrain and storing all the data for later retrieval. He sighed, the  in reply, his tension seeming to flow out offrom him through his feet into a puddle on the floor.  Her breasts , his head relaxing completely against her. She cradled his sweaty head, gently wiping the moisturehim between her arms as though from a baby’s brow.  ‘He fits perfectly,’ she thought.  She continued to gently strokecaress his upper body asshoulders. Gradually the realization that dawned—they were really alone together sank into her awareness.

            Cliff took Vickie’sHer hand as it strayed over his shoulder onto his chest. He took her hand and kissed it lightly. brushed it with his lips. His breath was warm. She bent over slightly as he.

He turned his face up and back.  His, his mouth opened to say something.

Their eyes met and locked, the air suddenly crackling with tension.

With exquisite slowness their lips met in a kiss,. At first tentative, then bolderthe soft sliding of skin, the barest tasting of breath, each touch urging more, each taste priming a deeper one, until finally her lips parted in invitation and more urgent.  Vickie’she thrust his tongue boldly into her mouth.[M10] 

Her  heart missed a beat, dropped down to swell her loins, jumpedbelly, leaped back tointo her throat and finally settled in her breast, pounding at the bones of her chest, clamoring and clanging in excitement.  Cliff’s hands came up and She cupped herhis face as sheand came back around the bench. He cradled her face in return and stood. Her arms wound tightly around his shoulders, pulling her into him as he stood, bending over herthem together.

            Cliff’sHis breathing was strong and vital.  Vickie hadShe’d never known anything like it. How anyone could express their openness and desire through their breathing was a new revelation in com munication.  Cliff stepped closer and Vickie felt her communication. Her body foldfolded into his, molding to the curveshard planes of his body. She stroked his back and felt him strokeas he released her face with one hand and stroked her hair.

            ‘I never knew a man’s kisses could taste so wonderful,’ she thought, remembering Ron for a moment.  Cliff’s hands moved down to Vickie’s shoulders and back, gently yet firmly pulling her to him.  Any further thoughts of Ron were hopelessly lost. No man had tasted anything as wonderful as Cliff. With a little moan she thrust her tongue into his mouth in return. His hand glided down her hair to her back, then her hip, tugging her into him. [M11] She reciprocated, her hands wandering in an idyllic garden walk down his well‑muscled back to his taut buttocks.  Cliff’s hands (His hand—oh, those hands) his clever hand—cupped under Vickie’s her rear and massaged gently.  Vickie felt her Her legs growgrew weak and her pelvis flowflowed into molten lava.

            “Ah, “Vickie, this is the way it should be.  Not all that constant fighting.”  She feltsweetheart.” Cliff’s arousal presspressed insistently against her, and for the first time she could notcouldn’t find any excuses, not that he wanted his brassboard, nor that he was trying to butter her up for the job.

            VickieHe wanted her.

She trembled with excitement.  He wanted her!  His kisses came hot and fluid over her mouth, increasing in fervor.  Vickie suddenly knew that, notNot only did he want her, but he wanted her now.

            Ironically, it was her certain love for But while she wanted [M12] him that made her unsure of this encounter.  She had finally swept away the veils on her emotionswith body, heart and seen the truth.  She knew she loved Cliff in all walks of her life.  She knewmaybe even soul, he was the match for her, in all walks of her life.

            But he had nothadn’t given her the least sign that he wanted her in any way but this.

           

            Vickie remembered how she had felt after both her Echoes of Ron, her broken engagement and herlost job had failed.  She hadthudded painfully in her chest. She’d lost everything.

She couldn’t go through that again.

            And this time she had already lost her heart.

            She broke away from Cliff’s armshim, feeling as though a part of herself was tearing away.  “No, “Cliff, please stop. I—I can’t do this.

            Vickie felt Cliff’sHis face tensed; his eyes harden on her.  hardened.

“I really want to, but I can’t, I just can’t. I’ve worked too hard to be professional, and these office romances always turn out sour.” She turned away and tried to put on her corporate mask, to rebuild the crumbling wall that protected her from this man.  But her mask kept slipping,. She erected it too hastily; she turned back and the way Cliff was lookinghe looked at her—equal parts anger and disdain, but both underlined with pain—made her want to crawl in a hole and die.  So haltinglyshrivel into a worm.

It was the pain that made her suck in  her breath. Haltingly, fearfully, she told him about Ron.

            “And, afterShe didn’t dare look at him while she talked. She finished up with, “After Ron left me, I put my whole self into my new job. I worked hard to get back my self‑respect, and a lot of it isit’s tied up in my career.   and I can’t lose it again. If I go to bed with you, and it doesn’t work, well,…Cliff, don’t you see? I’ll have lost both. my self-respect, my job…and worse, your friendship. I can’t handle that.” Hesitantly, she raised her eyes and finally looked at him.

            Cliff gazed at her intentlyHis gaze was intent, seeming to peer into her psyche. Then his eyes softened and he looked down.  “Yeah, I know.  . “I understand. It’s okay.”

            He understood.  Oh, no, that just made it worse.   VickieThat softness, that understanding…she did something she swore she’d never, ever do again. She broke down and cried. Really bawled this time.

---

 [M1]Our way of expressing ideas informally has changed

 [M2]Changed from telling about the competition to a small bit of showing her in competition.

 [M3]more showing in action vs. the old telling

 [M4]tell vs show

 [M5]Variations on said used to be common and encouraged. No longer. Changed from tag to action tag.

 [M6]huge tell vs show

 [M7]Again things have changed such that internal dialogue is expressed differently.

 [M8]Again, finding herself in love immediately is no longer part of the genre. A little uncertainty is good.

 [M9]There's an implied giving into her desires but since her actions change, the reason must be stated explicitly.

 [M10]Show versus tell applies especially to intimate scenes :)

 [M11]This is still a little awkward. Hopefully I'll smooth it further in the next pass.

 [M12]Irony in the middle of lovemaking interrupts the flow. It should be reserved for when you actually want to pause the reader's reading.

Hot Chips and Sand 146-150

Hot Chips and Sand
Copyright © 2013 Mary Hughes
All rights reserved

Cliff pushed his plate aside and gestured with his fork. “All right, Victoria Johnston. You don’t want to marry for money. You don’t want to marry for sex. You don’t want to marry just for children. Yet you do want to marry. For what?”

For what indeed? For love?

Yes, love would be her reason to marry. But not love like Ron meant it. Not love that stopped at the bedroom and was forbidden outside the home.

Her life stretched beyond that. No matter the corporate games she had learned to play, no matter how much she masked her feelings, they were there, at home, at work, dating.

Vickie wanted a man to love in the bedroom, yes, and at home. But that was only part of her life. She wanted a man to love at play, and at work, and all the in‑between times, too. “I want to marry someone I can spend my entire life with. A friend.”

“Well, I’d want it all. I would marry someone who was not only my friend, but someone I loved, too.”

Someone I loved. That resonated so strongly when he said it. She wondered if this man was the right one, the one she could love forever.

But was she the right woman for him?

Her voice sounded a little strange when she finally spoke, but she kept her words emotionless. “Well, of course. Everybody wants to have the perfect mate. But not many of us find perfection.”

“No, that’s not it.” He put his fork down and leaned forward, intent. “Perfection isn’t what I’m after. I want love, which is a very human emotion, and human means far from perfect. You can’t program love, after all. That would take the wonder, the delight out of it. I’m not looking for Ms. Perfect, or even Ms. Right. I’m looking for someone who’s as human as I am, but who’s willing to make mistakes and try again. And someone who…would try to love me in return, and keep trying, for the rest of our lives.”

She looked up, nearly drowning in the depths of his eyes. I love you, she wanted to say. But what if she did? Was he really asking for her commitment? Or was he just making conversation? How could he ask for a commitment like that from her without making his own commitment?

If he wanted her to put herself on the line like that, why didn’t he show her, somehow, how he felt about her?

Will he treat me like Ron?

She played it safe. “I think we all look for people to love us.” Trite. She looked away.

He sighed and sat back. “That’s true. But I guess it’s easier to take than to give.”

She winced. “No question about that.”

They sat, silent, until the hall clock struck a rather jarring ring. Vickie looked up.

“Is it really one in the morning?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“I’d better be getting home. I promised you I’d have that tracker module written, and, to be honest, I haven’t even started it yet!” She jumped up, dumped her dishes in the dishwasher and raced to the door.

Cliff didn’t catch up to her until she got to her car. “Vickie.”

She turned, her breath catching in her throat. Hoping for a kiss.

He stood there for a long moment, seeming at war with him self. Finally he shook his head. “Be careful.” He opened her door and waited until she was inside to click it shut. Then he stood back and watched as she pulled away. He was still watching when she drove out of sight.

* * * * *

The phone rang again. The man opened one eye and blearily took in the time. Two o’clock, as in a.m. He picked up the receiver, grunting as his muscles stretched.

“Hello?”

“It’s me.”

The man grunted again. “What’s the matter?”

“I just got word from our primary contact. The subject is getting antsy, and wants us to move in the new protection grid as soon as possible.”

It was not good news. “Are we ready?”

“No.”

“Can we delay, then?”

“Not with the project almost complete. I’m sure the subject is aware of that. His timing is too perfect.”

The man rolled onto his back and ran one hand through rumpled hair. “Could we sabotage the project, then, to set it back?”

There was a long silence at the other end, and the man knew. “You still haven’t told her.”

“No.”

“You’ll have to.”

“In time. Now is not the right time.”

“Why not?”

There was a short silence from the other man. “She is beginning to trust me. When I’m sure of her reaction, then I’ll tell her.”

“I think you’re making a mistake.”

A sigh, sounding empty and alone over the phone. “Maybe. You might be right. But I can’t take the chance.”

The man shook his head to himself as he hung up. Organization was going too slowly, information was not being passed along. About the only thing going on track was the project they did not want to complete.

He sighed, and got up to make some tea and think up some solutions to their problems. He did not get back to sleep that night.