Build a Man by Talli Roland Read Free Book Online Page B

my
belly at the thought of his hands on me, and I quickly open the
internet, telling myself that’s the last time I go without
breakfast.
    I type
‘undercover reporting equipment’ into Google then lose myself in
the pages and pages of options. Who knew it was such a big
industry? There’s a beautiful silk scarf wired for digital sound,
and just look at the gorgeous stilettos with recorders in
the heels. I squint at the number onscreen. For . . . £1,895. Yeah,
right. Not with the state of my bank account.
    Guess I’ll have
to settle for a good old regular voice recorder. That makes sense,
anyway – as a life advisor, I’d have to tape each session to make
notes for my files. I’ll nip over to Oxford Street, buy the
cheapest one possible, then head to Providores to meet with Jeremy.
Done.
    My eyes nearly
fall out of my head when I realise it’s quarter to nine and I
haven’t even started on my interview questions. I click open a Word
document and stare at the empty page. If I was a reader, what would
I want to know about Jeremy? I’ll definitely need to get the dirt
on his past; any gory story of despair. Makes sense to ask, too,
given this is our initial life advisory session.
    First things
first – I’ll have to get his measurements. I’ll say it’s for my
records, for comparative purposes. Sounds reasonable. Should I
bring a measuring tape? My cheeks flush as I imagine Jeremy facing
me while I stretch my arms around his chest . . . no. No way am I
getting that up close and personal. If he doesn’t know his
dimensions off by heart, he can always email them to me later.
    Okay. Question
one.
     
    Why do you want to be
a new man?
     
    Boring, yes,
but it’s a start. A chance to get him warmed up, drink some wine,
and maybe gather some background info.

    2. Why do you think
you haven’t found the right woman?

    Hopefully
there’s a terrible tale of heartache in there. And you never know;
he could have a hidden deformity, like that three-nipple man The
Daily Planet featured last month. I live in hope.
     
    3.
     
    Hmm. I’ve
really got to get in there, get the dirt.

    3. Will being a new
man make you better in bed?

    Throwing in a
bit of sex always captures people’s attention, right? But can I
really ask Jeremy that? Yes. I can. I’m a reporter now. I need to
dig.

    4. Why aren’t you
getting everything done?

    I’ll have to
cast a meaningful glance down below to make sure he gets my
drift.
    There’s a
banging at the front of the clinic and I realise I’ve forgotten to
unlock the door. Still five to nine, though, so it’s not like I’m
remiss in my duties. I stare as the door shakes under the force of
whoever’s outside pulling it back and forth.
    Bang. BANG! The
whole wall shudders.
    “Jeez, take a
chill pill,” I mutter, sliding off the stool and walking – slowly –
over to the entrance. Fitting the key in the lock, I turn it as
quietly as possible, then tiptoe back behind the desk, awaiting the
next round of bangs.
    I’ve just
settled onto the stool when Mrs Lipenstein throws herself against
the door and comes crashing into the reception area, almost landing
on the desk.
    Ha! That should
teach her. She tugs down her cardigan and straightens her scarf,
throwing me a look like it’s my fault she tried to bust inside
before nine.
    “Good morning,”
I say pleasantly. “How can I help you?” I almost smirk as I notice
one of her varnish-lacquered curls has dislodged itself and is now
sticking out over her ear like a wilted antenna.
    “Is Dr Lycett
free?” she asks, scanning the room as if he’s hiding in the corner
just waiting for her to find him.
    I glance at his
appointment schedule. “No, he’s booked up until one. He can see you
then.”
    “But I’m here
now!” Mrs Lipenstein cries. “Can’t I just duck in? I have this
terribly itchy . . .”
    She starts
unbuttoning her cardigan and I jerk my head away before she can pop
her crusty nipple out of her sweater. Honestly, I should