In an attempt to make myself a million quid, I am shortly going to be releasing a series of crap modern day erotic novels…………….. a 21^st Century Mills & Boon if you like.

Here is an extract from my first book, Fifty Shades of Emulsion

Roy had worked for Permolux Coatings since 1984, starting at the bottom of the ladder as a junior warehouse assistant before rising through the ranks in to his current position as senior warehouse assistant. Apart from three unsubstantiated sexual harassment claims, internal discipline for forging overtime sheets, intermittent sick leave with a bad back and the mystery death of a Polish immigrant in a fork lift truck accident, Roy had an exemplary employment record with Permolux.

Doreen had been at Permolux since 1987. Starting out as a junior purchase ledger assistant, she too had achieved meteoric success within the company and was now a senior purchase ledger assistant. Like Roy, Doreen was a loyal serving employee and apart from a written warning for stealing the vending machine money, various accusations of internal fraud and charge of sexually assaulting a Polish immigrant worker; she had an unblemished employment record. The sexual assault charge was later dropped because the Polish  immigrant died in a mystery fork lift truck accident in the warehouse.

There had always been a connection between Roy and Doreen, Roy would often pass on illegal DVD’s bought from a Chinese delivery driver in exchange for forged purchase orders that allowed him to start his own paint warehouse, an illegal operation that took place in the attic of his converted council house where he lived with his two dogs, Satan, a Japanese Tosa and Adolf, an American Pit Bull Terrier that was due to be put down after some alleged lacerations had been administered to a toddlers neck. This was a charge that Roy vehemently denied, claiming his dogs loved kids and that the distraught mother was “creating a song and dance about a few (84) stitches.”

Whenever Roy marched towards Doreen’s desk in a business like manner, demanding her to order six palettes of vinyl matt emulsion, she could almost feel the electricity emanating from his elasticised brown nylon slacks that he had purchased from the Sunday People, and this dark winter evening was to be no different. It was 6.30pm and by sheer fate and a couple of fraudulent overtime claim forms, Roy and Doreen were alone in the building. Sitting on a palette drinking heavily sugared chicory blend coffee whilst smoking an extra long cigarette, Roy knew this was his moment; he had already been aroused in his lunch break whilst he and his colleagues watched a Dutch DVD featuring a pigtailed farm hand and a bewildered looking donkey and he could  not hold back his desires any longer. He marched through the warehouse and crashed through the doors like a cowboy entering a saloon bar, except the doors were rubber and this was a run down office in Hounslow.

“I need to make some orders now Doreen!” Doreen span round in her chair, her greasy pineapple styled hair straining at the elastic band keeping it place. A grin crossed her face, the nicotine stained teeth that she had left, sort of glinted, courtesy of the faulty strobe light flickering above her. “And what sort of orders would you like me to give you?” she said, now quivering with desire. Doreen hadn’t had sex since a hideous error of judgement by Brian in accountants at the 1998 Christmas party, an event that prompted Brian’s instant resignation and emigration to Australia as well as eight hundred pounds worth of damage to the photocopier. After fourteen years without sex, Doreen knew this was her moment.

“I am making the orders and tonight, I order you to walk to the area behind the skips at the back end of the warehouse” said Roy, his semi-erect penis now straining at his urine stained Y fronts that he hadn’t removed for two weeks. Doreen got up and started walking ahead of Roy, her ample eighty four inch hips resembling a sack of potatoes as they unleashed themselves against her George at ASDA acrylic ski pants. Then the moment came, the time when fantasy became reality. Leaning against the skip whilst expertly holding a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, Roy peeled off his ill fitting sweat stained Sergio Rochina nylon polo shirt to reveal a rotund torso featuring a tattoo of a Gypsy woman on a prancing horse and a huge red glistening cyst just above his fluff filled belly button. Their breathing became heavier and heavier as they embraced, Roy gnashing at Doreen’s neck like one of his deranged dogs as she unpeeled one leg of her ski pants.  This was it, years of sexual frustration was about to end in joint ecstasy.

Then Doreen pulled way, removing her heavily sellotaped NHS glasses to reveal boss eyes that now looked even more crossed than ever before, causing Roy to momentarily panic as he thought she was talking someone else…….

“Take me Roy….TAKE ME NOW!!!!”

 “In a minute Dor….just gotta av a quick slash!”