Fantasies Incorporated: The Service
By: Bridy McAvoy
All rights reserved
Copyright © Apr. 2009, Bridy McAvoy
Cover Art Copyright © Sep 2009, Brightling Spur
Bluewood Publishing Ltd
Christchurch, 8042, New Zealand
www.bluewoodpublishing.com
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
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Special Note: This book contains UK Spellings.
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Dedication
To everyone who helped me write this. Especially my husband who encouraged me to explore my fantasies in print.
The Service
“How much?”
“I’m sorry; the total bill comes to seven hundred and seventeen dollars and forty cents.”
Vanessa felt her knees going weak, she clutched at the greasy counter top for support, her face veering from the pale of shock to the red of rage and back again.
“I don’t believe you. That’s impossible.”
“Look I can understand your feelings about this Ms. Wilkinson, we kept the cost down as far as we could, but a new clutch and flywheel is an expensive fit. Bob, I mean Mr. Wilkinson told us to go ahead with it, and he said you would settle the account when you collected the car.”
“But over seven hundred dollars . . .”
Steve, the garage foreman, just shrugged, and then pointedly glanced up at the clock over Vanessa’s head. Vanessa lapsed into silence, her mind reeling from the shock of the bill and the even clearer fact that she didn’t have enough money in her purse to pay it.
“Did you tell him how much the bill was?”
“No . . . at that point we didn’t know ourselves; until we finished the job; but I did tell him it was going to be expensive. Do you have a problem here?”
Vanessa flushed slowly, the way she nervously bit her lip was answer enough. She knew the other two mechanics were watching from the other side of the garage, obviously wanting to get away, to get home.
“You could come back for the car tomorrow . . . I could get one of my lads to drop you home if you’re stuck.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“My husband is out of town for four days, he flew out this morning . . . He’s got the cheque book with him. Damn! I need the car! . . . Wait, if I ring him, can you take a credit card over the phone?”
Steve shook his head sadly,
“I’m sorry; we don’t have CNP status here.”
Vanessa looked at him quizzically.
“CNP?”
“It means cardholder not present. We can only process a card by imprint, not over the phone, sorry. We do all our business face to face you see.”
He smiled at her.
“Look I’ll get Andy to drop you home and you and your husband can come and collect it when he gets back. I won’t even charge you storage for the four days.”
Vanessa shook her head, still trying to find a way out of her predicament.
“No . . . I need the car tomorrow, for definite. I’ve got to go out of town and I can’t hire one at short notice. Please let me take it. We’ll be in on Saturday to pay, I promise.”
Steve pointed a hand over his head at the large prominent sign hanging there. Strictly Payment First. It read like some kind of death sentence to her.
“More than my job’s worth lady, my boss will have my head if I don’t enforce that rigorously. He checks the cash register every morning when he comes in, and he won’t budge on that rule. Sorry. My hands are tied.”
A sudden thought struck here
“How about if I left you my ring? This engagement ring cost over two thousand dollars?”
Steve shook his head,
“I’m truly sorry lady, but I’m no jeweller. I wouldn’t know a two thousand dollar diamond from a fifty cent piece of cut glass. I have to put cash in the till, or a cheque or a card receipt. Sorry Ms. Wilkinson, I got no other choices you see.”
She sighed; there was no way out of this.
“I suppose I’ll have to take that lift then. Thanks.”
Vanessa turned to walk away.
Steve had covertly been admiring the pretty long haired blonde throughout the conversation. The other mechanics had been admiring the rear view too which as she turned he was now treated to as well. Fashionably dressed in a tailored business suit, the skirt above the knee and cut tight she did present a very nice aspect form front or rear.
“Well . . . There is one possibility I suppose . . .”
Vanessa turned back, hope flaring in her eyes; quickly dissipating as she saw his eye line was directly connected to the area just below her waist.
“What?”
Steve continued to look at her, his eyes travelling the whole length of her. As the lewdness of his gaze transmitted to her brain she slowly flushed.
“. . . What I was thinking was if you have got some of the money, maybe the lads and I could chip in the rest for you . . .?”
“And why would you do that?”
“We hate to disappoint our customers. We like them to be satisfied.”
The emphasis he placed on certain words left her in little doubt about what he was suggesting and her embarrassment grew.
“What exactly do you mean?”
“Well, how much cash do you have on you?”
“I’m short by about three hundred dollars.”
“So if Andy, Mike and I put in a hundred dollars each then the bill would be covered wouldn’t it?”
“And then you’d let me pay you back Saturday? Won’t your boss object to that?”
“He won’t know, so he won’t object, and no we wouldn’t want you to pay it back on Saturday.”
“When then?”