The Writer
Part 1

Mike uttered an oath under his breath as he accidentally sliced open his thumb on a sheet of paper. Mumbling, he pushed his thumb in his mouth, pulled open a drawer, and pulled out a band-aid. Gingerly applying it, Mike leaned back and glowered at his blank computer screen.

The journalist was in his cubicle at work on the second floor, and was working on an assignment his boss had given him – his new position in the local paper. He had been the top investigative journalist until mere hours ago, but following a screw-up in the handling of a major story, he’d been shuffled down to writing the Sex Advice column under the pseudonym ‘Mr. Smooth’.

The blond man stared blankly at the screen, brow furrowed. He’d never written a sex column before, and had no clue how. Investigative journalism was very, very different. Don’t I have to wait for questions or something? I guess I could just make them up, or maybe-

“Um, excuse me? Are you Mr. Michael McPherson?”

Mike sat up straight, and turned his spinning chair around to face the cubicle opening, where a short, pretty woman stood with an inquiring look on her face, and a set of yellow folders marked “Questions”. Mike gave a nod, and said, quietly, a-la-emperor, “I’ve been expecting you.”

The woman raised an eyebrow at him, and then got the reference and allowed herself a grin. “I’ve been asked by the boss to deliver these papers to you. They’re apparently vital to this part of the paper, so make sure not to lose them?”

“What, are those the sex questions?”

The brunette blushed, and stuttered, “Uhm… yeah, I guess, technically, they are.”

“Brilliant, hand them over.”

The woman handed him the files, and as he took them, he glanced up at her face and said, “So, what’s your name?”

“Er, Giselle.”

“Nice to meet you Giselle. I’ll see you around, eh?”

“Sure.”

And with a swish, the busty young woman was gone from the cubicle, leaving Mike with a pile of questions. Sighing, he booted up the computer, picked up a mug of coffee he had next to the monitor, and braced himself for answering idiotic questions about how to re-invigorate sex life.

– – –

Two hours later, Mike stretched, and stood up. He’d done about twelve questions, enough to fill approximately six columns. But he wasn’t just writing advice, he’d learned in a memo to his company e-mail. He’d be writing a full, sex related page.

“Fuck my life,” The 27 year old man muttered, rubbing his shaggy blond beard. “How the hell am I supposed to find that much content?”

Mike stumbled out of his cubicle, and made his way to the company lounge, where there was a tiny café, and a water fountain. Two workers were sitting at a table working on their laptops, and Giselle was at another table, sipping a cup of coffee while sifting through papers.

The muscular blond man made his way to the counter, ordered a cappuccino, and made his way over to Giselle’s table after he’d received it from the seventy-something year old running the booth. Dear God, doesn’t she have anything better to do with her life than serve coffee?

“Hey,” Mike intoned as he approached his new acquaintance. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

Giselle glanced up, seemed to recognize him from before, and smiled. “Yeah, go ahead… Mike, was it?”

“Yeah that’s it.”

Mike pulled out a seat from the table, sat down and gingerly put the coffee on to the wooden surface. He then blew on his heated-up hands to cool them, and said, “So, Giselle, what do you do at this company?”

“Hmm? Oh, I’m head of the business department.” Giselle took a minute to give a winning smile. “Not to sound conceited… but I’m the reason our newspaper is so damn good.”

They both worked for a huge company called Hopil inc.