Rita Skeeter leads a scandalous love life. (ex_busybody681) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2009-07-08 23:48:00 |
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The sound of a tapping heel against the faux tile that lined the floors of Whizhard books was the only noise that could be heard. Finneus Dodge’s secretary, Winifred, was packing up her things and sending a pointed stare at the noise maker at the same time. “Are you sure you don’t want to come back tomorrow, Miss Skeeter? Mr. Dogde has some free time between 8:00 and 8:15 in the morning, where I’m sure he’d be happy to see you.” Rita looked at the girl, her eyes narrowing in disbelief. Winifred could be no more than twenty. Her mussy brown hair was pulled up in one of those buns that you spent forever trying to make it seem like you simply rolled out of bed. Her pencil skirt was a touch too tight on her waist so that you could see a hint of bulge begin to pop out from her misbuttoned red shirt. She wondered whether Winifred had gone the entire day without noticing that her entire shirt was off by one button, or if she was having a torrid affair with some lowly worker, and had simply run into the coffee room for a quick one. Either way, she looked as though she wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of the office—it was far past quitting time—and the one thing in her way was Rita. But Rita was going nowhere. There was no way in hell that she was getting up at the crack of dawn tomorrow to return to this office and spend another day waiting. She had been here for far too long as it was, and she was not eager to do the same thing for even longer tomorrow. No, she’d wait here until Finneus Dodge graced her with his presence. “No thank you, but please, feel free to go home, there’s no need to wait for me.” “That’s not really how this—” But Winifred stopped her statement as the large oak doors opened. Before them stood Finneus Dodge. At no more than five foot six, the man was hardly intimidating. The vest of his three-piece suit looked as though his mother had purchased it for him at least eight years ago, and in that time, he had put on a stone or two. Momentarily, Rita wondered if it was likely a button would pop off during their meeting, but instead she allowed her eyes to travel up to the man’s moustache and was he honestly wearing a monocle? Did people actually wear monocles? Sweet Salazar! This was ridiculous. “I apologise for the delay.” The small man began. “Miss Skeeter, please. Winifred you may go home now.” “Good night, Mr. Dodge.” Winifred replied with a wave before Rita stepped into the office. Something about the office, much like Mr. Dodge himself, did not seem right. There was nothing wrong with it, per say. It was filled with books and manuscripts, three chairs, a large desk, nothing out of the ordinary. The desk, while lined with parchment also had pictures of what Rita could only assume was Dodge’s family. A plain brunette woman with two fat children by the seaside waved to the passersbys in one picture. That same brunette a few years younger took a piece of wedding cake from Dodge’s less wrinkled hands in another. It was all incredibly mundane. Rumour had it that despite almost 20 years of marriage, Dodge and his wife were incompatible. They stayed together only for their children, but Dodge always had a wandering eye. “Miss Skeeter,” Finneus began, taking a seat in a dragon hide chair that was a bit too large for him. “how can I help you?” “Well, Mr. Dodge, I’d like to discuss my book.” “Ah yes, the Albus Dumbledore biography. Very entertaining.” “Thank you.” She paused for a moment. “My editor, Gregory Samuels,” “Yes, yes! Greg. Good man. We played Quidditch together back at school.” “Indeed. Yes, well Mr. Samuels informed me that it would take at least three months to have my book on the shelves.” “That is our general timelines for books of your genre, yes.” “But as I tried to explain to Mr. Samuels, I think that due to the recent death of Albus Dumbledore, the faster we release the book, the more copies we will sell.” Dodge was too busy staring at Rita’s breasts to have fully comprehended her last statement. Of course, she had expected this, it was the natural male reaction when she paired a pushup bra with her red wrap dress, and therefore she expected his flabbergasted reaction, when she ever-so-sweetly caught his attention with her voice. “Don’t you agree, Mr. Dodge?” “What?” The man mumbled quickly, fumbling with his monocle for a moment as he processed what Rita had said a few moments ago, “Ah yes, I see your point, Miss Skeeter, but it would be a very difficult task to complete. Many of our other authors would also grow angry that we are making an exception for you.” He could have very well said a woman instead of you and it would have meant the same thing. Chauvinistic pigs like Gilderoy Lockhart would have their poor egos bruised because a girl had her first book published faster than theirs. Rita did not care who she offended, she would get this book published as soon as possible if it killed her. Almost absently she brushed her fingers over her collarbone and then allowed them to twirl her especially silken blonde hair while she answered, “But wouldn’t you want to ensure that Whizhard Books makes the largest profit possible?” Dodge’s cheeks heightened with blush, “Well obviously, but,” “And moments ago, you agreed that releasing the book as soon as possible would be the best way to ensure maximized sales…” She leaned in just a bit, enhancing Dodge’s view of her cleavage. “Well yes, but,” “I’m sure you could think of something brilliant to tell the other authors. You are, after all, the most powerful man in publishing. Who would dare argue with your logic?” Dodge made some uncomfortable coughing noise as he pondered Rita’s last statement. For a minute, Rita wondered if her tactics would actually work. They had never failed her before, but this man hadn’t jumped at the bait right away. It was worrisome. Had she confused his unhappy marriage and penchant for blondes with another editor? But then he rose and silently flicked his wand. The large oak doors that for the majority of the meeting were open, despite that everyone had already left the office, closed somewhat abruptly. “Well, I think we could come to some sort of arrangement, Miss Skeeter.” The man coughed once more before rubbing the glass on his monocle on his vest. Rita smiled a very satisfied smile in response, “I am so glad you think so, Mr. Dodge.” |