Javine is the hunter. Elle is the hunted

Elle Jones, a businesswoman living in Chicago, is on track for an executive position. She has been trying to bury her past which resulted in a strong desire for professional achievement. Executive by thirty! That’s her mantra. She lands the job–the dream job–and celebrates her success until one night when she leaves the office late. The last thing she recalls before waking up is being in the elevator facing three cloaked figures.

Meanwhile, travelers from another dimension are stalking people on Earth who have special abilities–Flare. Andreas Javine is the hunter. Elle is the hunted. He will use every last resource available to him to see that she ends up in his world.

Open Season begins on Earth and travels into a world where things aren’t quite as peaceful as the inhabitants want newcomers to assume. Journey along with Elle as she experiences the wonder and treachery of Caetera.

“Help me,” Elle mouthed. Fearful tears welled in her eyes.

A hand reached from the grey cape…

Elle jerked away, retreating further into the faux safety the elevator offered.

Too late…

Update: Jan 2020… I’ve added a new sample of Elle’s point of view from early in Open Season.

Morning Routine

Elle Jones, Chicago, Spring

CALEB WANDERED BY THE second bedroom door, rubbing a sweat towel over his damp bronze waves. His face was flushed from the run, but he took one look at Elle sitting behind the desk and leaned onto the door jam. He cocked a half smile at her, suggestively raising one brow. Maybe there was time before she left for work to sneak in a little romp between the sheets.

Instead, she put a finger across her lips and mouthed for him to hush while pointing to the dangling earpiece. She found her phone and put her obnoxious boss on mute, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “I so wish I could, but I only have thirty minutes to get to the office after this call.”

“Boss lady again, huh?” He finished mopping up his post-run sweat and draped the towel around his neck.

Damn, he was appetizing when he’d just finished working out. And when energy from his run coursed through him, the sex was black-out good! Elle groaned, wishful. “We really should just call her Bitch Lady.”

“Can you just leave her on mute?” Caleb asked, taking a few quick steps to the back of her desk. Standing behind her, he ran his tongue up the side of her neck.

Elle pulled her shoulder up and with another frustrated groan, pushed him away. “I have to report out on the next slide. Tomorrow? I’ll put you on my calendar.”

He sighed, gave her a quick kiss, and whispered, “Here every morning.” He headed for the shower.

Elle took the phone off mute and tried to return her attention to the executive report out. Re-focusing was tough. The Caleb distraction was easy enough to recover from. They’d started as roommates and quickly discovered that they had an electric physical connection. Almost every morning. And they attended each other’s corporate evening affairs. Elle guessed you could call them a couple, but their relationship was mostly convenient. Still, he was something to look at. Often, she was the victim of one of his co-worker’s jealous glares.

What distracted her more in the moment was waiting for her phone to ring with some news she’d been seeking for years. She’d put out a handful of resumes and was hoping for some calls to start rolling in. She needed upward movement, more prestige, and to get away from her dreadful boss who micromanaged every aspect of her day. Her current job as Director of Marketing was supposed to be the move that put executive status on the horizon. And her team kicked ass. Sales at Jewel Systems were up over twenty-five percent this year, and most of that was directly attributed to the marketing campaigns she and her team produced. Trajectory was right on—for nearly two years.

Then Kelly Nixon took over as the Vice President of her division, and she subsequently ripped every piece of Elle’s team’s work to shreds. For months, they’d been rewriting campaigns or articles three, four, and sometimes five times. It didn’t help that Bitch Lady had a two-bit MBA from some local online college. Kelly was fifty if she was a day, and at twenty-nine, with her Stanford MBA, Elle could run circles around her in both quantity and quality of work. The position should have gone to Elle, but John Wykoff, the CEO of Jewel Systems, told her that she needed a few more years of experience. Bullshit!

“Elle.” Kelly’s high, syrupy voice brought her back to the conference call. “Would you speak to the new campaign approach?”

“Of course, Kelly. Thank you.” The words burned Elle’s throat as they gained voice, but that was part of the gig. Playing the corporate game meant showing due respect even to those who didn’t deserve it. It was time to act out her role and dazzle the executive team—as always. She wouldn’t show that she was anything less than one hundred and fifty percent invested in this company. At least until something better came along. Turning up the excitement over the newest software offerings, Elle went whole-heartedly into Kelly’s revised version of the presentation.

In the end, Wykoff congratulated her on the presentation but suggested that she add some visuals to the plan that showed how the new software revolves around securing a financial future for a common American family. Elle stood behind her desk and raised her hands thankfully to whatever gods must be watching over her.

“That’s a most excellent idea, John,” Elle said, thankful for the virtual meeting that didn’t require her to control her mixture of relief and self-satisfaction. Her team had another package at the ready with the original content that Kelly had stripped from the presentation. “I do believe my team has just the right catalog of imagery. We’ll get that to you within the hour.” Elle pulled up her instant messaging program and looked up her assistant, Alvita. The new presentation would in reality be sitting in the leadership team’s mailboxes before the end of the call.

“Thank you, Elle,” John said.

“Next on the agenda is Product Development.” John’s assistant, Margo announced.

As the Director of New Product Development began his presentation, Elle closed her computer and slipped it into her bag. She kept the earpiece in to hear the remainder of the meeting, but since her part was done, she muted it and prepared for work.

The shower water was still running as she slipped into the bedroom she shared with Caleb, pausing to take an appreciative glance at his shapely runner’s ass and legs. No time, she reminded herself and grabbed her heels that lay beside the bathroom door. She slid them on in mid stride, hopping to keep her balance, and headed for the exit. At the door, she leaned down and scratched Sam, her Siamese behind the ear and stepped out into the residential hallway of Bloomingdale’s building.

The conference call finished as she waited for the elevator. After hanging up, she stared at their door. On the wall to the right, just above the mailbox, the brushed silver label read, “Floor Sixty-Five, #4.” If she could just land that executive job, they could likely move up and have the entire sixty-sixth floor to themselves. Executive before thirty. She still had six months to go. She checked her phone again for messages as the elevator opened. Disappointed, she stepped inside. Her hand hesitated over the garage button, then she pressed number one for the street-level barista. Coffee was necessary before heading to the office to deal with another grinding day.