Losing My Inhibitions: A Laugh-Out-Loud Chick Lit Romantic Comedy With A Twist!: Finally Free And Ready To Have Fun... Read online

  Losing My Inhibitions

  Finally Free And Ready to Have Fun

  Olivia Spring

  Hartley Publishing

  First Edition: June 2019

  Copyright © 2019 by Olivia Spring

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and happenings in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons living or dead, locales or events is purely coincidental.

  www.oliviaspring.com

  Follow Olivia on Facebook/Twitter/Instagram: @ospringauthor

  Dedicated to my amazing readers.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

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  Also by Olivia Spring

  An extract from Only When It’s Love

  Also by Olivia Spring

  An extract from The Middle-Aged Virgin

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  At last.

  I thought it was never going to end.

  He’d been pounding away for ten minutes, grunting like a pig, and I’d been listening to the radio playing in the background, trying to figure out what advert the song before last was from. Was it the one advertising car insurance or the one for those panty liners that are supposed to keep you cotton fresh all day long? It’ll come to me…

  We should have just called it a night when he’d first struggled to get his machinery working. Based on tonight, it seems like what I’d read about some older men finding it difficult to get it up was true.

  It was only about half an hour after he’d popped a little blue pill that he’d been able to get his little soldier to stand to attention, if you catch my drift. Which, unfortunately for me, was around the same time I started to sober up and wonder what the hell I was doing.

  But by then, he was really excited, and it had been so long since my last time that I’d got myself worked up and was just as keen as him to give it a go. I mean, when I start something, I like to see it through. Yep, I’m dedicated like that.

  I’d also read that there are lots of benefits of sleeping with an older guy. Apparently, after years of experience in the sack, they know their way around a woman’s body better than a gynaecologist, so I thought I may as well give it a try. Purely in the name of research, of course.

  But now I was really wishing I hadn’t bothered. It was about as exciting as watching a hundred-metre snail race. And this guy wouldn’t know his way around my anatomy if I gave him a map.

  Still, at least it was over now. I was back in the saddle. First time since I’d left my ex-husband. Frankly, I hoped it got better from here. Please tell me it does?

  I opened my eyes slowly and glanced up at his crepey skin and flaky bald head, which had tufts of grey at the side. His droopy man boobs hung above my chest, whilst the weight of his large pot belly pressed down on my stomach.

  Dear God.

  I must have had a lot more to drink than I’d realised.

  Don’t get me wrong. If I was looking for a relationship and this was a man I’d fallen madly in love with, then I wouldn’t be so shallow. It was just that right now, I was looking for fun. To make up for the years I’d wasted with my ex. When I was dreaming of the day that I’d be free from Steve and with another man, this wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind.

  I’d pictured a young, hot, sexy guy with abs that would give a Calvin Klein model a run for his money, with a full head of dark hair I could run my fingers through. A stud who would have me screaming for more, rather than wondering when it would all be over.

  It was Colette, my boss, slash landlady, slash housemate, slash friend, who’d set me up with him at my divorce party earlier this evening. Now that I was officially free, Colette said some male company might be good for me, so she’d invited Donald, her loaded sixty-two-year-old boyfriend, and he’d brought his fifty-five-year-old mate Terrence along.

  I knew that I was ready to get back on the horse, and it was already under control. My cousin Alex had been helping me. She’d given me a crash course in online dating two weeks ago, and I wanted to set up my profile ASAP so I could get going on the whole swiping thing, but this big work exhibition kept getting in the way. I’d been burning the midnight oil every night and often over the weekends too, trying to get everything prepared, which didn’t leave me with any time for extracurricular activities. And after another long, tiring and stressful day, a hook-up was the last thing I was thinking about. But I guess the booze I’d been drinking all night had made me relax a little too much, so when Terrence had started flirting, my libido had woken up, curiosity had got the better of me, and I’d hastily thought, Why not just get it out the way now?

  Big Mistake.

  Oh well. You live and you learn. We all do things in the heat of the moment that we regret. As long as I didn’t do it again, then it was fine. Which meant I better start thinking about how I was going to get this big sweaty oaf of a man off me. Now. I’d heard the effects of those pills can last for hours, and I definitely couldn’t endure another round.

  No way.

  Remind me never to drink alcohol again.

  Chapter Two

  ‘There you are!’ said Colette as I stepped out from the loos, tossing my long red hair over my shoulders and readjusting my black leather skirt. ‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere!’

  Blimey, can’t a girl leave her desk for two minutes to answer the call of nature?

  ‘I just had to pop to the ladies’,’ I said, trying to hide my irritation about having to explain myself. ‘Is there something you need?’

  ‘Yes!’ Colette raised her eyebrows, her forehead barely moving. She must have had another Botox session over the weekend, as there had definitely been more movement in her face on Friday. ‘I’m on my way to a lunch, but I’ve been double-booked, so I need you to be a darling, Roxy, and take a meeting for me.’

  Not again.

  Seriously. Colette was always ‘double-booking’ herself. You’d think she didn’t have a PA or access to a calendar.

  ‘When is this meeting?’ I asked, sensing that I wasn’t going to like the answer.

  ‘Now,’ said Colette.

  ‘Now, as in right now?’

  ‘Yes, darling! He’s in the boardroom waiting.’

  She’s got to be joking. I already had a load of deadlines to meet this afternoon. She couldn’t honestly expect me to drop everything because she’d been disorganised? Who am I kidding? This was Colette, after all.

  As I thought about my to-do list, my head felt like it was about to explode.

  There was less than two weeks to go until the Northern Beauty Live
! exhibition in Manchester, and I was tearing my hair out. Colette had given me the sole responsibility of managing and marketing our presence at the event, and that was on top of my normal day job of running the national sales force. I was resourceful and had never been one to shy away from hard work, but frankly, expecting me to do all of this was ridiculous. Anyone with half a brain could see that this was a job for a team rather than one individual, but ever since we’d booked the space two months ago, Colette had insisted that I could do it all on my own. “You’ll be fine, Roxy. I know I can trust you,” she’d say.

  Utter bollocks, I’d muttered to myself. It’s got sod all to do with trust, Colette. I’m not bloody Wonder Woman. There’s only twenty-four hours in a day and I only have one pair of hands.

  And now she wanted to land this on me too? This was beyond unreasonable. I had been hoping to leave on time today so that I could go round to Alex’s and let her finish showing me how to set up my profile on a few dating apps so that I could finally start having a life outside of work and go and enjoy some male company. If I took this meeting, I’d be stuck in the office until all hours again.

  ‘Colette, you know that normally I’d help out,’ I said, trying to keep calm. ‘It’s just that I’ve still got a load of stuff to do for the show next weekend, so I really need to focus on—’

  ‘Don’t worry about that, Roxy,’ she huffed. ‘I’m sure you’ll find a way to get it all done. Just take this meeting for me first.’

  Unbelievable. I’d have liked to tell her where to stick her bloody meeting, but after everything she’d done for me, I couldn’t.

  ‘What’s the name of this guy?’ I said, sighing in my head. ‘What company is he from, and what’s the meeting about?’

  ‘Um,’ she said, fiddling with something in her fancy handbag and avoiding eye contact. ‘I think he’s from a new online magazine. Wants to talk about advertising and promotional opportunities or something.’

  She thinks? Can’t be that important if she’s not even sure.

  ‘What’s his name?’ I repeated. ‘And what online magazine is it? Just so I can research it quickly on my phone before I go in.’

  ‘Names escape me. Just go and introduce yourself. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. It’ll be fine. Oh, and I said you’d give him a presentation on the company. You know, our history, who we’ve advertised with in the past, what’s worked, what hasn’t, marketing objectives for the next twelve months—that kind of thing. Best to go straight to the boardroom now, Roxy. Don’t want to keep him waiting.’

  Classic Colette. Not only did she dump this on me last minute when she knew I had a shitload of work to do, but she’d given me zero details and expected me to give an in-depth presentation off the cuff without having any time to prepare. But what could I do? This guy was already in the meeting room, so it would be unprofessional to send him away. I didn’t want it to reflect badly on the company. If I was him, I’d hate to have had a wasted journey. It wasn’t his fault she had forgotten about the meeting. And ultimately, Colette was my boss, so I didn’t have a choice. Even though this was going to mess things up for me, I had to go along with it.

  ‘Okay,’ I replied reluctantly.

  ‘Wonderful! See you later,’ she said, rushing towards the door.

  Not so fast…

  ‘Er, Colette,’ I called out, as I sprinted to catch her up at the exit. Running in these skyscraper heel knee-high boots wasn’t ideal, but I couldn’t let her leave without chasing up on getting a temp first. ‘Before you go, I just wondered if there was any news on getting some help? You know, like we discussed? I’ve got a mountain of work to do for the show, and now I’ve got to take this meeting and I don’t—’

  ‘Later, Roxy.’ She pushed the glass door open. ‘Soon.’

  That’s what she always bloody says.

  ‘It’s just you promised we’d talk about it last Monday, then again when I asked on Wednesday. And you said you’d definitely tell me more on Friday, but now it’s Monday, another week has passed and now there’s only nine working days left until the show starts and—’

  ‘I don’t have time to discuss this now,’ Colette huffed. ‘I’ve got to go. I’ll be back around two-thirty. Let’s speak then.’

  Fobbed off again.

  If it was anyone else, things would be different. At the very least she’d have hired an assistant for me from the get-go. But, because of our situation, although she’d deny it, she took advantage.

  Colette and I had met years ago, when she’d come to my uni to do a talk about women in business. I’d found her really inspirational, so after the event, I’d hung around to chat to her and we hit it off. We’d kept in touch, and Colette had invited me to intern at her beauty tools company, Cole Beauty Solutions, when I graduated, which was brilliant. She gave me an assistant role and I stayed there for a few months, but back then I was young and ambitious. I wanted to travel, see the world and try different things. Colette said she thought I had potential and that there would always be a job for me if I ever wanted to return. After I got back from travelling, I worked at different companies for several years, then I met Steve and got married.

  I hadn’t seen Colette for almost two decades until about twelve months ago, when I’d bumped into her at the supermarket and she’d insisted we have a coffee. I remember feeling embarrassed, as I knew I looked a mess. The sparkle I used to have in my brown eyes had gone, my skin was washed out and I wasn’t wearing scarlet lipstick and lashings of mascara like I always do now. I’d stopped dyeing my hair, so it was a dull, lifeless, dreary dark brown shade rather than the fiery red colour I have today, and I’d put on loads of weight. Whereas Colette was looking glamorous, as she always did. Even though I worked out she must have been in her mid-late fifties, she’d barely aged. Her shoulder-length jet-black hair was still big, bouncy and blow-dried to perfection, her make-up was immaculate and she was dressed in a signature tweed skirt suit, just like I remembered.

  I told her I couldn’t stay long as Steve would be back soon and expect his dinner to be ready, but we ended up chatting for ages. I don’t know what came over me. Maybe it was having another woman to talk to after so long, but suddenly I broke down and found myself spilling my guts. Telling her about my controlling husband and how I was desperate to leave him, but was too afraid.

  Colette, who’d recently been through a messy second divorce, said she’d help me. So for the next eight weeks, we met at the same coffee shop on a Friday afternoon and planned my escape. Colette offered to lend me the money to rent a flat to move to once I left. I refused so many times because I couldn’t see how I’d be able to afford to pay her back. I had nothing. But she said I could come back to work for her just like she’d promised all those years ago. Eventually, I accepted and just before my fortieth birthday, I left Steve.

  It was almost three months before I was even able to think about working. I was such a mess. At first I just used to curl up on the floor. Crying. Wondering how I’d got myself into such a shitty situation. How I’d allowed him to manipulate me. I felt so weak. I couldn’t see how I would ever recover. After Colette paid for me to see a therapist, I slowly grew stronger and realised I could take care of myself. I’d done it before Steve, and I was determined to do it again.

  I started exercising and eating healthier, so soon I was looking and feeling much better. When my confidence began to grow, I worked at Colette’s two days a week, then built up to three. Two months later I was full-time, earning a salary, and arranged to start paying her back in instalments.

  As the six-month rental agreement she’d secured for me was about to end, Colette suggested that rather than staying on, I should come and live with her, rent-free. That way it would be easier to pay off the money I owed her and also start saving for a place of my own.

  We got on well and it made financial sense, so I’d agreed. That was seven months ago and now, a little over a year after I’d left Steve, I was doing great. Colette had given me a company c
ar, and I had just been promoted to Sales & Marketing Manager and was really enjoying my job. Well, when I wasn’t being overworked.

  The problem was that Colette expected a lot, and because I knew how much she’d done for me, I felt like I could never say no to anything she asked or do anything to rock the boat. Which meant I was constantly having to work late to get everything done.

  But, as I kept telling Colette, I couldn’t keep doing it all on my own. I needed support. And even though she’d promised to get me an assistant to help me market our products at the show more times than I could count, yet never followed through, I’d give her the benefit of the doubt. Again. I mean, Colette said she’d be back at 2.30, which was only two and a half hours away, and I’d waited this long, so surely holding on for another few hours shouldn’t make that much difference?

  Yes. I’d trust her this time. Hopefully by 3 p.m. I’d be coming out of her office, feeling relieved to finally have an extra pair of hands. Then I’d leave at five head to Alex’s and finally set up those profiles. Alex said things could happen really quickly, so who knows? If the temp started in the next few days, maybe I’d have a hot date lined up for the weekend, which would be brilliant.

  For now I just had to get this stupid meeting out the way, be patient and keep my phone line clear, ready for when Colette’s PA, Raquel, called me at 2.30 p.m.

  Being patient? Getting a call from Raquel at 2.30? Likely story. It was now 4.45 and quelle surprise. No news on this imaginary help from Colette. I couldn’t keep going on like this. That bloody meeting had eaten up two valuable hours of my day. It wasn’t right.