Connor and Paul took a step away. Danny jammed the truck into gear and spun the wheel in front of him. In no time, he was spinning around in a figure of eight. When he screeched to a halt, they gave him a round of applause.
Danny had the title of the best forklift truck driver at Pleasure Seekers. He should be—he was also the longest-serving member of staff except for Stan. He’d joined just before the pandemic. The place had been empty so he’d got some serious practice in.
Then all hell had broken loose. It appeared the whole country had decided to pass the pandemic exploring their sexy side. Business had gone through the roof.
“Healy.”
John Parry stood at the door of his little office at the rear of the warehouse. Danny killed the ignition.
“A word, please.”
John disappeared inside the office that he liked to call the control room.
“Nice one, knobheads,” Danny said, jumping down.
Connor playfully shoved him. “He’s only jealous because he can’t do it.”
Danny had a bad habit of getting summoned to the control room on a regular basis. The others joked he might as well have his own chair.
As he trudged across the warehouse, Danny stared up at the pallets of dildos, condoms, lube and a vast array of stuff that before he’d worked there, he had no idea existed.
He ran up the little iron steps two at a time and knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
Danny stuck his head around. The smell of body odour and questionable aftershave assaulted his senses.
“Ah, Danny,” John said. Why he insisted on acting surprised at Danny’s presence when he’d summoned him was anyone’s guess.
John liked to think himself the next Alan Sugar. He always had his nose stuck in management books and tried to apply the theory. The only drawback being these books were written for running huge businesses rather than a medium-sized warehouse.
Still, it kept him happy, which made life easier for everyone.
“Come in,” John said. “Sit down.”
Usually, if he got a telling-off, Danny had to stand. He hoped that meant today he would be spared.
He pulled out the other chair and sank down on it. He removed his gloves and rubbed his fingers.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“I’m not even going into you doing figure of eights again,” John said. “Fucking quit it. You’re nearly thirty.”
Danny shrugged. “They dared me.”
“You can say no to a dare, you know.”
Danny clutched his chest. “Never.”
There was a glint in John’s eye. Even though he pretended to be exasperated by every move of Danny’s, they did get along. Most of the time.
Danny picked up a strap-on from John’s desk.
“Put that down,” John said, grabbing it from him. “These things are worth a bloody fortune. Four of them fell off the pallet yesterday and they’re knackered. I’m getting shit for it.”
“Nothing to do with me,” Danny replied. “Connor was doing the toys. I was on lingerie.”
The toys were the worst part of the warehouse. High value and high demand.
