Story Preview & Editing
Free Post: Have a look at a new M/S story.
I finished this the other day and it’s a banger. I think it’s a great story. “m/s” theme, which is what I normally write about. The idea came from the notion of the woman being compelled or indebted to a corporation, and she must agree to create a fleshlight from her vagina, then give to the younger man. A fleshlight, if you don’t know, is a sex toy that’s shaped like a flashlight, with the mold of a woman’s vagina.
She didn’t deserve to have that happen to her, which is what makes the story compelling. I thought of different ways and came up with the idea that she works in money management and got framed for losing a big clients money. So she either owes them, or the firm will be sued, possibly criminal charges as well.
I’ll go through the editing process of the intro here so you can gain insight into how that’s done. Editing the intro is always the hardest part but this time it’s fairly straight forward. And it’s the hardest part because you want to introduce the characters and setting without being boring and/or overwhelming with too many facts.
Whatever you write in life, I hope looking at this helps, because this is the amount of work and though process you need for a quality final product.
This story is currently 6,400 words words. It’ll be trimmed hopefully to 5,700 words or less. That’s my favorite length. Nice and concentrated, with no excess words.
If you’d like a copy of the original 6,400 version, message me and I will send it to you for free. It’s unedited. Final edits will be done soon.
heyallstories@gmail.com
ORIGINAL:
[ignore typos, I also had an issue with tense, because my previous story was past tense]
Elisa steps into the office and she has no idea what’s coming her way.[i love this line because it creates intrigue] It’s never a good sign when the boss is looking grimmed, flanked by in-house lawyers, and they’re waiting for you to take a seat at the conferance table. [love the visual of the boss flanked the lawyers] She sat where she was told to sit. It’s late afternoon and her day should be winding down, not being ptu on the hot scene.
Print outs were placed in front of her by one of the lawyers. It was a client-account that she managed.[tense issues] Somehow $26,034,293 had been reduced to a clean $100 and she’s stunned by what she’s seeing, reading and re-reading the figures over and over. In all her years working finance, she has never presided over such losses in a short amount of time, not while the markets were strong overall.
The papers beneath weren’t much better. There were legal documents threatening the firm with a lawsuit and criminal charges. The client was furious and demanded answers. Panic sinks in for Elisa, a shortening of breath, because now her career and possibly freedom hang on a thread.
A second blow strikes when she remembers the charming Italian man she’d been seeing these last few months, who swept her off her feet during the fleeting romance, who’d been so curious and enamoured about her career in finance. It was rare to meet men who were fond of career-driven women. In retrospect, seeking that sort of validation was the biggest mistake of her life.
“This wasn’t me,” she says. “I can explain everything.”
Her voice was weak and the people in the room didn’t seem convince. They also didn’t seem interested in hearing whatever sob story she had to offer, not when so much money was outright missing from a supposedly secure account.
Mr. Sorensen shook his head. “Elisa, I hate to say it, but it’s damning. We've got evidence of unauthorized withdrawals and transfers from the client's account, directly to offshore accounts. Your name and IP address are linked to these transactions.”
“Can I explain?”
“You can try.”
With a shaky voice she explains what she can about the love affair and the man who was so interested in her professional life. She explains what a fool she’d been for being so trusting, for being excited about sharing details of her personal life with someone who cared. Or pretended to care.
“Suppose that’s true,” he says. “And I very much believe you. That doesn’t change the fact that a client is preparing a major lawsuit. They’re also talking about bringing criminal charges. One more chance, did you have any idea this was happening?”
“No, you have to believe me…”
Although she tries to remain stoic, she can’t bring herself to finish that sentence and her eyes start to water. She doesn't cry. It’s more that she’s so overwhelmed by the accusation that it’s hard to mount a proper defense.
“There might be another way,” he says.
“What is it?”
“Our client is very trusting of you. They didn’t think you’re the type to steal from anyone. So, they’re willing to work with you, if you’re open to that.”
In a flash the vibe in the room changes. The accusatory expressions and nervous tension disappears, replaced by a sense of embarrassment over where this is heading.
“Looks like I don’t have a choice,” she says.
A female lawyer in her 50’s opens her briefcase and pulls out a short stack of documents, passing it over to Elisa for review. The funny thing is that they’d known each other for years, not quite friends, but they’d always been friendly in the hallways or office areas, making small talk about whatever. Making small strides in a male dominated space.
Now there was a coldness between them, business is business, and Elisa is on the short end of the stick as she reads the documents. Working in finance, she’s seen plenty of these non-disclosure agreements before. But why now? She skims through until she sees that she’s expected to sign.
“That ensures secrecy on all sides,” the lawyer says. “From this moment forward, no one will know about the embezzlement. No one will know about the remedies, either. All you have to do is sign the document.”
“And if I refuse? I mean, should I consult with an attorney first?”
When they look at each other, wondering who should break the news of this backup deal, Elisa’s hands clasp under the table, bracing herself, having a creeping feeling that her life will never be the same again.
THOUGHTS:
Elisa steps into the office and she has no idea what’s coming her way. It’s never a good sign when the boss is looking grimmed[ignore the typo, but ‘boss looks grim’ is cleaner], flanked by in-house lawyers, and they’re waiting for you to take a seat at [shorting this to ‘waiting for you across the’ seems cleaner] the conferance table. She sat[sits] where she was told to sit. It’s late afternoon and her day should be winding down, not being ptu on the hot scene.
Print outs were placed in front of her by one of the lawyers.[ by a lawyer is quicker]
It was a client-account that she managed. Somehow $26,034,293 had been reduced to a clean $100 and she’s stunned by what she’s seeing, reading and re-reading the figures over and over. In all her years working finance, she has never presided over such losses in a short amount of time, not while the markets were strong overall [are strong].
[had a couple of tense issues in the below paragraph]
The papers beneath weren’t much better. There were legal documents threatening the firm with a lawsuit and criminal charges. The client was furious and demanded answers. Panic sinks in for Elisa, a shortening of breath, because now her career and possibly freedom hang on a thread.
A second blow strikes when she remembers the charming Italian man she’d been seeing these last few months, who swept her off her feet during the fleeting romance, who’d been so curious and enamoured about her career in finance. It was rare to meet men who were [cleaner — ‘it’s rare to meet men who are’ ]fond of career-driven women. In retrospect, seeking that sort of validation was the biggest mistake of her life.
“This wasn’t me,” she says. “I can explain everything.”
Her voice was weak [ better to give an example, so i went with ‘her voice was barely a whisper’] and the people in the room didn’t seem convince. They also didn’t seem interested in hearing whatever sob story she had[has] to offer, not when so much money was outright missing from a supposedly secure account.
Mr. Sorensen shook his head. “Elisa, I hate to say it, but it’s [the evidence] damning. We've got evidence of unauthorized withdrawals and transfers from the client's account, directly to offshore accounts. [needs to be simplified because this paragraph is redundant] Your name and IP address are linked to these transactions.”
“Can I explain?”
“You can try.”
With a shaky voice she explains what she can about the love affair and the [charming] man who was so interested in her professional life. She explains what a fool she’d been for being so trusting, for being excited about sharing details of her personal life with someone who cared. Or pretended to care.
“Suppose that’s true,” he says. “And I very much [ added ‘want to’ because it makes the boss more sympathetic, rather than outright trusting] believe you. That doesn’t change the fact that a client is preparing a major lawsuit. They’re also talking about bringing criminal charges. One more chance, did you have any idea this was happening? [last line doesn’t make sense in the context, switched it to ‘so what do you think should happen next?']”
“No, [I … I … don’t know…] you have to believe me…”
Although she tries to remain stoic, she can’t bring herself to finish that sentence and her eyes start to water. She doesn't cry. It’s more that she’s so overwhelmed by the accusation that it’s hard to mount a proper defense.
“There might be another way,” he says.
“What is it?”
“Our client is very trusting of you. They didn’t think you’re the type to steal from anyone. So, they’re willing to work with you, if you’re open to that.”
[“Our client wasn’t sure if you were the mastermind. They didn’t think you were the type. So, they’re willing to work out a deal, if you’re open to that.” ]
In a flash the vibe in the room changes. The accusatory expressions and nervous tension disappears, replaced by a sense of embarrassment over where this is heading.
“Looks like I don’t have a choice,” she says.
A female lawyer in her 50’s opens her briefcase and pulls out a short stack of documents, passing it over to Elisa for review. The funny thing is that they’d known each other for years, not quite friends, but they’d always been friendly in the hallways or office areas, making small talk about whatever. Making small strides in a male dominated space.
Now there was a coldness between them, business is business, and Elisa is on the short end of the stick as she reads the documents. Working in finance[at different places], she’s seen plenty of these non-disclosure agreements before. But why now? She skims through until she sees that she’s expected to sign.
“That ensures secrecy on all sides,” the lawyer says. “From this moment forward, no one will know about the embezzlement. No one will know about the remedies, either. All you have to do is sign the document.”
“And if I refuse? I mean, should I consult with an attorney first?”
When they look at each other, wondering who should break the news of this backup deal, Elisa’s hands clasp under the table, bracing herself, having a creeping feeling that her life will never be the same again.
[last paragraph feels a bit vague, so I touched it up: When the boss and lawyers look at each other, wondering who should break the details of this backup deal, Elisa’s hands clasp under the table, bracing herself, having a creeping feeling that her life will never be the same again. And it won’t. The fact is, millions of dollars are missing and it all points to her.]
FINAL:
[here’s the mostly final version. a few extra changes were made and possibly a few more changes will be made before it gets posted.]
Elisa steps into the office and she has no idea what’s coming her way. It’s never a good sign when the boss looks grim, flanked by in-house lawyers, and they’re waiting for you across the conference table. She sits where she’s told to sit. It’s late afternoon and her day should be winding down, not being put on the hot seat.
Printouts are placed in front of her by a lawyer. It’s a client-account which she manages. Somehow $26,034,293 has been reduced to a clean $100 and she’s stunned by what she’s seeing, reading and re-reading the figures over and over. In all her years working finance, she has never presided over such losses in a short amount of time, not while the markets are strong.
The papers beneath aren't much better. There are legal documents threatening the firm with a lawsuit and criminal charges. The client is furious and demands answers. Panic sinks in for Elisa, a shortening of breath, because her career and possibly freedom hang on a thread.
A second blow strikes when she remembers the charming Italian man she’d been seeing these last few months, who swept her off her feet during the fleeting romance, who’d been so enamored about the world of corporate finance. It’s rare to meet men who are fond of career-driven women. In retrospect, seeking that validation was the biggest mistake of her life.
“This wasn’t me,” she says.
Her voice is barely a whimper and the people in the room don't seem convinced. They also don’t seem interested in whatever sob story she has to offer, not when so much money is outright missing from a supposedly secure account.
Mr. Sorensen shakes his head. “Elisa, I hate this, but the evidence is damning. Money from the client's account went overseas. Your name and IP address are linked to these transactions.”
“Can I explain?”
“You can try.”
With a shaky voice she explains the love affair with the charming man who was profoundly interested in her career. She explains what a fool she’d been for being so trusting, for being excited to share details of her life with someone who cared. Or pretended to care.
“Suppose that’s true,” he says. “And I very much want to believe you. That doesn’t change the fact that a client is preparing a major lawsuit. They’re also talking about criminal charges. What do you think should happen next?”
“I… I don’t know… you have to believe me…”
Although she remains stoic, she can’t bring herself to finish that sentence and her eyes start to water. She doesn't cry. It’s more that she’s so overwhelmed by the serious accusation that it’s hard to mount a proper defense.
“There might be another way,” he says.
“What is it?”
“Our client wasn’t sure if you were the mastermind. They didn’t think you were the type. So, they’re willing to work out a deal, if you’re open to that.”
In a flash the vibe in the room changes. The accusatory expressions and nervous tension disappears, replaced by a sense of embarrassment over where this is heading.
“Looks like I don’t have a choice,” she says.
A female lawyer in her 50’s opens a briefcase and pulls out a short stack of documents, passing it to Elisa for review. The funny thing is that they’d known each other for years, not quite friends, but they’d always been friendly in the hallways or office areas, making small talk about whatever.
Now there’s coldness between them, business is business, and Elisa is on the short end of the stick as she reads the documents. Working at different places, she’s seen plenty of these non-disclosure agreements before. But why now? She skims until she sees that she’s expected to sign.
“That ensures secrecy on all sides,” the lawyer says. “From this moment forward, no one will know about the embezzlement. No one will know about the remedies, either. All you have to do is sign the document.”
“And if I refuse? I mean, should I consult with an attorney first?”
When the boss and lawyers look at each other, wondering who should break the news of this deal, Elisa’s hands clasp under the table, bracing herself, having a creeping feeling that her life will never be the same again. And it won’t. The fact is, millions of dollars are missing and it all points to her.