Skinny Dipping (Skinny Sagas) Read online

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  SKINNY DIPPING

  By Alicia M Kaye

  Skinny Dipping

  By Alicia M Kaye

  Copyright © 2014 Alicia M Kaye

  All rights reserved.

  The right of Alicia M Kaye to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted, in any form of binding or cover other than that it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent publisher, or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the copyright holder.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Highbury Aquatic Centre

  Silver Swimming Chain

  Silver Family Leisure Group London N5

  Miss Sophie Smart

  Junior Executive

  Clarks, Clarks and Clarks Advertising Agency

  55 Dean Street

  London

  SW1Y 4JW

  28 July 2007

  Dear Miss Smart,

  I am writing to express my sincere gratitude for your handling of my account while I have been absent on my eighteen-month sabbatical. You operated using initiative, needed little assistance, understood our family vision and created the thoughtful advertising campaign ‘Swimming is for Living’. I was very pleased with the results of the campaign, which led to a two-fold increase in membership, a much greater success than anticipated.

  I am now back as the acting director of the ‘Silver Family Leisure Group’ and would be delighted to work with you again on the next commercial to further advertise our swimming centres. Please contact me at my temporary office location at the Highbury Aquatic Centre.

  Please find enclosed the draft contract for continuation of services for your perusal.

  Sincerely,

  Matthew Silver

  Director

  From: Matthew.Silver@SilverSwimmingChain

  Sent: 20 August 2007 10:58

  To: Sophie.Smart@ClarksAdvertisingAgency

  Subject: Re Idea Generation Stage - Animation Idea

  Dear Sophie,

  Thank you for welcoming me back. Your assumption is spot on. Getting on top of things after eighteen months away has made me incredibly busy. Yes, I continue to operate from the Highbury Aquatic Centre. The swimming chain is my pet project. Besides, I love the water.

  Please don’t worry. Working from an office at the swimming centre will not create a technical barrier. I promise to be technically savvy. I too believe in using technology to create efficiencies in our communications, and confirm my transition from snail mail to email.

  There is no need for you to speak with your Information Technology Department. I have received your emails. My inbox backlog included several messages from you, sent over the last month.

  If ever you can’t reach me again, contact Eve. She is the resident swimming coach at the Highbury Aquatic Centre and covers reception. For the time being, Eve is acting as my personal assistant. I am still yet to identify a bright, trustworthy individual to help in a full-time capacity.

  You rightly suggested my timely feedback is absolutely necessary in the Ideas Generation Stage (the first step in an advertising campaign.)

  To comment on your idea, the art sketches you sent are brilliant. However, using real people and real faces may connect better with the local community.

  You also asked me a question: what is my favorite sea creature? A dolphin.

  Don’t feel any matter is too small for my attention. Now I am back, I insist on being involved in all parts of my business, including this advertising campaign, every step of the way.

  Warm regards,

  Matthew Silver

  Director

  From: Matthew.Silver@SilverSwimmingChain

  Sent: 10 September 2007 15:39

  To: Sophie.Smart@ClarksAdvertisingAgency

  Subject: Re Idea Generation Stage - Meeting Agenda

  Dear Sophie,

  I apologize for cancelling the last few meetings you've set up. Regrettably, I’ve been preoccupied with another part of the ‘Silver Family Leisure Group’ – the hotel arm – which is in dire need of energy, revitalisation, and renovation.

  The Highbury Aquatic Centre is still my base. Also, the new personal assistant did not work out. Again, Eve has stepped up as my temporary personal assistant. She mentioned she has spoken to you several times this week. Eve encouraged me to reschedule another meeting to help us both get on the same page. She reminded me of your past invitation to join you at the ‘London Annual Advertising Awards’ (in your email you mentioned the event as a gala evening), tomorrow night.

  This would be a perfect opportunity to get together and discuss the new campaign. I trust you won’t mind my late acceptance, as I would be most pleased to finally meet face to face.

  Kind regards,

  Matthew Silver

  Director

  Chapter 1

  Three months trying. Two letters, fourteen emails, thirty phone messages, but still no connection. Sophie Smart would leave another message, and another, and another… if it came to it. Why couldn’t he answer the phone? Perhaps Sophie would be more successful reaching him if she devoted her life to science and pushing the boundaries of technology. Perhaps creating a mind boggling, innovative method of communication would increase her chances of catching a few seconds of his time. Surely contacting an extraterrestrial would be easier than speaking in real time with Matthew Silver?

  If he hadn’t wanted to work together, why bind their relationship with a legal contract? She was now obliged to work with an unwilling and uncooperative client. Lately, the mere mention of his name had created feelings of loathing.

  If only she could be as evasive as he was. For now, at the very last minute, Matthew Silver had accepted Sophie's invitation to meet at the London Annual Advertising Awards, a gala evening and the most prestigious night in the advertising calendar. What kind of person gave such short notice?

  Today couldn’t get any worse. She felt low. Melancholy possessed her, making her chest ache. With a crumpled face, she sat in her Volkswagen Beetle on a quiet street in Highbury and dialed Matthew Silver’s number. Was she supposed to dig deep and locate her last shred of patience for Matthew Silver? For today was the worst day of her life.

  She exhaled and closed her eyes to summon a spark of her usual perseverance. “Pick up your phone,” Sophie muttered.

  A note chimed for Matthew’s voicemail. “Leave it,” his recorded message played. Leave what? Another message? Oh, how she wished she could ‘leave it’ and let him hear her wrath.

  “Hello, again,” she started. She remembered to stay calm, vital to her professionalism. Stay composed and polite. Don’t reveal frustration. “This is Sophie Smart from Clarks, Clarks and Clarks Advertising Agency.” She slowly relaxed her coiled fingers from their smothering hold on her phone. “I’m just letting you know I’ll be a fraction late tonight for the awards gala. Why don’t we meet at the table? Please call me back.”

  His extensive wealth probably meant he could snap his fingers, and any whim, any wish would be granted as if he were the bearer of Aladdin’s magic lamp. Just one rub and he would be indulged. He was a spoilt kid in an adult’s body and the heir to the Silver Family Leisure Group. He was also clueless enough to operate the multimillion pound corporation from a dinky back office in a swimming centre.

  The Silvers owned a chain of swimming c
entres, hotels, gyms, stadiums, theme parks, theatres, restaurants, and retail shops. Sophie’s world wasn’t quite as gilded. She could only fantasise about the blissful life his wealth could create. She pictured life without the stress of working with people like Matthew Silver… Dream on Sophie.

  When it came to marketing, Matthew shared his ‘Silver love’ around. The Silver Group’s massive advertising budget was divvied up between various clawing advertising firms. There was no exclusive agency. The firm Sophie worked for had landed an isolated part of the Silver Family Leisure Group, the chain of swimming centres. It was the least glamorous or profitable unit of the Silver Group. The budget was only a tiny sliver of Matthew’s entire advertising allocation. For this reason, Matthew, despite his riches, was considered ‘small billing’ by her firm.

  But there was always opportunity, Sophie reminded herself. She’d read newspaper articles describing Matthew’s hotel business being under extreme pressure. Sophie might be just the girl to help him. Tonight at the gala was her chance to charm him and hopefully drag his hotel advertising over to Clarks.

  Ever since she could remember, Sophie had been fascinated by the advertising industry. She’d completed a degree at university and applied for a staggering number of graduate advertising positions in London, but competition was fierce. Application after application was unsuccessful. Sophie was crestfallen when she didn’t secure a single interview. The constant rejection almost left her as bitter as a jilted bride.

  Yet with willpower she refuted any feelings of failure. Life wasn’t always easy. She loved advertising and she just needed someone to believe in her. She scoured all possible vacancies at advertising firms, even jobs in administration rather than advertising. Give her one opportunity to stand in front of someone for two minutes and she’d convince them. They would sense her enthusiasm and her eagerness to get in. She’d do anything. Anything.

  Somehow she was lucky enough to snag a break at one of the prestigious firms: Clarks, Clarks and Clarks Advertising Agency – Clarks for short – with offices in New York and London. Darren Clark was the founder, based in New York, and Bradley Clark was the Managing Director, based in London. The third Clark remained a mystery to Sophie and probably every other employee at Clarks.

  She was fortunate enough to win Bradley Clark over in her only interview and she soon found herself employed as his personal secretary. The job was relatively straightforward for Sophie and she often ran out of things to occupy her time. She had perfected the art of moving papers round her desk, trying to appear as busy as possible.

  Despite herself, Sophie became bored. A desire smouldered inside her. She felt destined for a career in advertising. Again she became impatient for a chance, wanting to prove herself in a position she was sure she was born for.

  She didn’t precisely know what she did to provoke Bradley Clark’s interest in her career. It might have been her organisational prowess, her stapling speed or her upbeat persona. Quite possibly Bradley noticed her constant efforts to volunteer for greater responsibility.

  One night Bradley Clark remarked on her spirit. He even told Sophie she possessed a unique personality, a special combination: a cross between an artsy, creative type, and a charmer, a mix often found in used car salesmen.

  Bradley finally decided that Sophie had the natural temperament and aptitude for a successful career at Clarks. Hooray! He gave her a chance, a life changing opportunity by promoting her to Junior Executive. Her new role would be to project manage advertising campaigns.

  Sophie’s new responsibilities were vastly different from her secretarial duties. Her skills in note taking and flash typing became absolutely irrelevant. She needed the gift of the gab. Bradley himself was a busy man and couldn’t spare the time to mollycoddle or foster her. Rather than Bradley easing her into the new role, he endorsed a ‘sink or swim’ approach. Sophie didn’t like water at the best of times, but she was determined to succeed.

  Bradley’s primary concern was associated with the term ‘revenue’. Sophie was not only assigned to project manage, but also to deliver new business, to bring in more money for the Clarks empire. Each month he set mandatory financial targets for her to meet. Her monetary goal always increased and the battle to win new work never ended.

  Landing new business was like a black art. Securing new contracts was mystifying, where each client had unknown rules which she was somehow supposed to know. Even so, she found the challenge fascinating and engrossing, often staying on into the night poring over advertising pitches and client research. She didn’t mind the long hours, after all, she finally had the job she’d always wanted. Besides, she wouldn’t dare let Bradley down. Blundering, or worse, failing, in the role would cause him great embarrassment and end her career. She even attended additional sales workshops to finesse her skill set further.

  The long hours, the technical courses and the positive attitude were the only way to keep her head above water. For all the demanding situations and stress associated with her position at Clarks, she loved a challenge, and more than that, she loved advertising.

  Over the course of a few years, Sophie matured into her role. She adopted a savvy nature and excelled as a Junior Executive. There was no doubt that her role at Clarks was all consuming. She was absorbed. There was little left after work. She had no time, energy or inclination for much else.

  She closed her eyes, only for a second, was it all worth it? Was she too devoted to the career which monopolised her time? Sophie tossed her mobile phone inside her hefty handbag. Her thoughts instantly returned to Matthew Silver. Why was she focused on an irritating client when the rest of her life was crashing round her shoulders? Was she losing it? She shoved the doubt away, fearing she’d lost perspective on what was important.

  She hunched over the steering wheel, in the only place she could call home: her red Volkswagen Beetle, currently parked on an unfamiliar residential street in Highbury. Sophie was homeless.

  Derek. Bloody Derek. He’d given her an ultimatum, to choose between working at Clarks and their relationship. He’d said a letter of resignation would suffice, for this would be the only sign she could give to show she was truly committed to a life together.

  His request was too immense. Sophie would lose part of herself if she quit. There had to be another way, a compromise of some kind, for she wouldn’t leave. She loved advertising and dreamed of one day owning her own firm. She was still learning. Her departure from Clarks was out of the question.

  A moment of madness must have swept over him; it was the only thing that made sense. Derek had asserted his ownership of their apartment and insisted she move out. He’d stated that if she elected to continue at Clarks, then she needed to find new accommodation – immediately.

  After the argument Sophie had packed and loaded her car with boxes. It was only an argument and he’d soon give up his demands. Of course he’d ask her back inside. Yet she had found herself sleeping in the back seat of her car like a vagabond.

  When she woke, stiff and sore, she had even gone to work.

  Sophie had departed Derek’s place and slept in her car only last night. The fight was less than twenty four hours old. Derek was yet to call and she was barely holding herself together. Clarks still expected Sophie to attend the gala evening, although she didn’t want to get dressed in the back seat of a car. She would find an alternative.

  As she ran her hand over the cardboard box on the passenger seat, Sophie sighed at the knowledge that she’d taken only the bare essentials. The boot was crammed full with work clothes, shoes, nail polish, and her collection of Jamie Oliver cook books – only necessary items.

  There hadn’t been time to pack everything properly while Derek was so upset. There would be another time when she could return to Derek’s apartment, her old home on her old street, far from the street she was on now. Surely after he calmed down, Derek would miss her wildly. He would want her back. Of course he would.

  Sophie thrust the car door open and pla
stered a grin on her face. Think positive, think winner. Smiles were an important part of the sales process. They were cheap, yet often closed deals. A flat interview was no different. This time, Sophie was selling herself. She was desperate to secure a new home.

  Holding a printout of the online advertisement, she checked the address and identified house number 129. The advert stated the room was available immediately. If this flat interview didn’t work out, her only solution would involve another night in her Volkswagen Beetle, or possibly a low budget hotel. She definitely didn’t want to ask her parents or friends for any help. She didn’t want to sit through the humiliation of describing what had happened with Derek, when she herself was still trying to piece it all together. There might be a chance that after further negotiation, they could salvage the relationship.

  Besides, she didn’t need help. She was quite capable of sorting out her accommodation situation. Sophie Smart was a solutions kind of girl.

  There was a small gate to 129. She walked up the set of steps. A feeling of déjà vu flooded her body at the stairs. This was, after all, the third ascent to an unfamiliar house this evening for a flat interview. Sophie felt panicked. The two previous flats hadn’t worked out. Would this one come through?

  Shifting her shoulders back, she inhaled the fresh September air and exhaled a deep breath out. Third time lucky, right?

  Reaching the bright blue front door, she rang the buzzer. Her eyes darted around, looking at the leafy street, lined with Victorian houses. Would the girl living here possibly like her? Would they get along? The ad gave the girl’s name as Carol. What if this girl, Carol, was a psychopath? Other than the brief phone call to confirm the time for the flat viewing, Sophie was meeting a stranger.