Sneak Peak of "Jab" - Short story first 650 words

Hi Toddler Patrons! This is part of a first draft, but if you want to see how it's getting on...full story coming next week! 

Abigail is kept waiting at the lawyer’s office. Truly, the quickest way to a bad first impression with Abigail, being late for an appointment. 

The receptionist, a 20-something airhead, has pink hair arranged in pigtails, with bright pink lipstick to match. 

Perfect for a lawyer's office, Abigail thinks. How professional. If the lawyer hadn't been recommended to her by Jack, Abigail would have turned on her heels and walked straight out. But Harrison is perfect, according to Jack. Quick and cheap, and he'll go after Russell like a Rottweiler. 

“Mr Hawkins is having such a busy day! But if you wanna take a seat, yeah, as soon as he’s ready, he’ll buzz me.” The woman giggles inanely and then looks back down at her phone. 

“I don’t have all day,” Abigail mutters, and then she goes over to the chair and sits down. She takes out her own phone, preparing a text for Jake:

receptionist is a bimbo - are you sur

“Ow!” Abigail drops her phone and jumps up from her seat. She puts a hand to her bottom which feels tender. 

The receptionist looks up. “All right, luvie?”

Abigail glares at the woman. “I just got jabbed by something in your chair.”

The receptionist frowns. “It’s Mr Harrison’s chair.” Her face brightens. “His office chair is much better.” She giggles. “You’ll see it yourself in a few minutes. It’s so comfy!”

“I don’t care about that chair,” says Abigail hotly, “there’s something wrong with this one.” She points stiffly at the offending furniture. “It jabbed me, there must be a loose pin or something.”

“Huh,” says the receptionist. “I’ll tell Mr Harrison about it.” She smiles at her. “He’ll be with you soon. If you wanna take a seat, he’ll give me a-”

Abigail waves at the receptionist. “I’m not sitting on that thing again, it jabbed me!” She reaches for her bottom, but the pain has faded to nothing. Just a pin, just a scratch. 

“Oh,” the receptionist says. She frowns, as if considering the problem. And then she raises a finger. “Oh!” She gets up from her own seat. “Wanna sit on mine?”

“Of course not,” Abigail begins, and she shakes her head, but then she stops, feeling suddenly dizzy. 

She blinks, puts a hand on the receptionist’s counter. 

“You okay, luvvie?” asks the receptionist. 

Abigail nods. ‘Yeah, just felt a bit…”

Dizzy is the word, but the receptionist cuts her off. 

“Bouncy?”

“No, I-” Abigail frowns. But bouncy is the right word. That’s exactly how she feels. To test the idea, Abigail bends her legs a little, presses down on the carpet with her feet. And it’s as if she’s standing on a balloon, an idea that is at first alarming - what if the balloon bursts? - and then relaxing - of course the balloon won’t burst. It’s not a real balloon, it’s a carpet!

Abigail giggles. 

The receptionist joins her, and then frowns. “What’s so funny?”

“You… you got a balloon carpet,” says Abigail, and then she giggles some more before putting a hand to her mouth and blushing. What’s wrong with her, she sounds like an idiot. 

But the receptionist just nods and smiles. “Yeah, you’re all bouncy, aren’t ya.” She reaches for her intercom and presses a green button. “All the ladies feel bouncy after they sit on the special chair."

Special? Abigail looks back at the chair, at the naughty, jabby chair. ."What's so special about it?" she asks, except her tongue feels thick and heavy. Whath tho thpeckal? She sounds drunk, she sounds hammered. 

The door to the lawyer’s office opens and a man walks over to Abigail and offers his hand. “You must be Abbie.”

“Abigail,” she corrects in slow-motion, concentrating on her diction.  Ahhh...buhhh...gay-yull.

“"Lovely," the man says. He takes her hand. “Come this way, we have a lot to talk about.”