This is my first published story and isn't in a genre I have much interest in. I wasn't able to find a beta reader or editor on the forum to help me, so I welcome any constructive criticism and advice in a private message.
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Ashley tapped the keyboard with her long, red nails and slid the mouse out of the way as she stood up. She watched the screen blink off, just to be sure it went all the way.
"Enjoy your night, hon," Toni cheerily said, giving her a bright smile and little wave.
Ash flashed her own dazzling smile back, gathering up her handbag and keys. "I always have a good night."
Toni smiled back, watching Ash walk out with a swagger. There was something going on there. Never a mention of a boyfriend, girlfriend, or party lifestyle. Yet, every week she came in with a big smile like she had the most pleasurable weekend ever and the glow of a woman in love.
She swore every couple months it looked like Ash was pregnant, early stage of course. The swell of her tummy, and there was definitely breast size increase and some leakage going on. Definitely not spilt coffee. And then wham, in a week she was back to normal size. Nothing added up. Maybe she needed some of whatever Ash was getting.
Toni scooped up her own keys and bag and went home. Weekends. Is there anything better?
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Ash grabbed two trays of steak from the deli, mushrooms, lots of vegetables and lastly threw in a bottle of very fine red that she had acquired a sweet tooth for. It tickled her tastebuds in just the right way while making her a little giddy and happy. It matched the steak perfectly too.
She could never remember being this content and settled in life. Always happy, eating well, hair lush and bouncy and her body fresh and firm. Not even a sick day in the last eighteen months. There was still a corporate ladder to climb, but as the lead receptionist for the company and the director's favourite meeting minute taker, she was in a pretty good position earning a bonus wage for her efforts.
Always on time, sharp as a tack, almost supernaturally able to read clients minds and needs, she had become a valuable asset to have around the corporate table. Mingled well, loved by all the company's clients, got on with all the staff, never made any troubles with anyone, didn't bring troubles to work, had a knack for soothing client issues before they became issues, and all round made the whole organisation work like a money making machine. Corporate wanted to clone her, they said so on many occasions. With two more Ashleys, they often said, they could conquer the world market and make a fortune.
She smiled inwardly, proud of where her life had turned.
Movement coiled in her tummy, little pulses as something shifted and relaxed, a surge of warmth flowing with the movement. A feeling of fulfillment and contentment raced over her, her breasts tightening in response, her face flushed.
Down the toiletries row. Two packs of pregnancy pads, breast pads, toothpaste and another pack of disposable razors. Another bottle of dishwashing liquid, garbage bags and then to the checkout to pay.
The cashier girl ran the items through.
"Your life must be hell, Ash," she said, as she did every time Ash bought the maternity items.
"Cursed." She rolled her eyes. "Someone up there doesn't like me."
The topic dropped into silence, the same as always. Ash paid the total, gathered the cluster of plastic bags and walked out into the cool, evening air.
A Friday night, an open weekend with no firm plans but to relax, curl up at home and watch new movies. Her body told her it was the weekend to stay in and avoid people's prying eyes and do her own thing.
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She turned into her street and cruised the last few hundred metres to her door. Everyday it was hard to drag herself away from home, almost like a longing which lasted the journey down the street and mellowed into a gentle, magnetic pull to get home in the evening. The only time of day that home didn't play pleasant in her thoughts was this last drive down the street. Past the last few neighbours houses her stomach fell into a pit of apprehension and doubt. She didn't want to go home, but then she did, and the desire to walk into her home and close the door behind her and hide away from the world always grew stronger and won, intensifying the longer the negative feeling tried to resist.
She collected the plastic bags from the back seat like a brood of children held tight in her arms and walked to her door.
"Let me help you," called her neighbour. For a seventy year old man, he very sprightly jumped the small intervening garden and tried to grab the bags from her arms.
"Oh, thank you," she smiled. "Could you get the door instead?"
He took the keys from her fingers and walked ahead of her to unlock the door. Ash placed the bags on the double seat on the porch and took her keys back.