3 comments/ 25640 views/ 2 favorites Three Times A Lady By: BethanyJ "Er - is this for a man?" She surprised me. Elaine that is, the woman at 'Transform'. How the hell had she known? I mean it was really for me but I had to admit there was a man involved. About 35, slightly plump but well built. I didn't know his name but - yes, this was for him. But how had she known? I'd come into the store an several hours earlier and asked the question nearly every tranny wanted an answer to. "Elaine. You know, maybe you don't remember, you said last time I came in for a dressing session. That in the right light and with the right make-up I could look really female? That if I was willing to go all the way, for a really sexy look, you could hide the maleness? Well did you really mean that?" Elaine had looked me over again once more, carefully. Then she had filled my heart with delight. "Yes I did. Not quite in full daylight honey but in artificial light or maybe in the evening, you know, if you were willing to go - all the way." "All the way?" I asked, not being totally sure what she meant. "Well we'd have to make sure absolutely everything about you which could be considered male was in some way masked. Ultra-close shave, long feminine wig, you know, make up and jewellery taken to extremes so that you'd look like - well - a bit of a tart, to be honest. So dolled up you couldn't possibly be male." "And you could do that?" "At a price, yes but it would take time honey. Three or four hours maybe." Three or four hours? I'd waited years for the chance, what did that matter? "OK. Go for it". And indeed we'd gone for it. As I waited for the clock to tick round to 8 o'clock my mind went back a week. ************************************ ..... back to the Friday before, when Marcia had told me she'd had a phone call from an old school friend of hers, Fiona, that Fiona's husband was supposed to be taking her to Nice for a few days but he'd had a sudden rush on at work and couldn't make it. And would Marcia like to join her for the trip. All paid for, sorry about the short notice. 'Would I mind?' Marcia had asked me. Mind? The thought of - for several days, on my own, able to – well, you know...... Could I? Of course I fucking could. "Well it's a great opportunity, go on, do it, don't mind me, I can manage for a while on my own." I hadn't had so much time on my own since we'd been married, over ten years earlier. Hadn't had a chance to – well, you know ....... ************************************ .... back to the Saturday, Marcia out shopping all morning, quick dash for new clothes, travel stuff and so on. ************************************ .... back to the Sunday and Monday and Tuesday, helping Fiona to pack and to make sure she had everything she'd need. ************************************ .... back to the Wednesday, leaving work early so I could drive Marcia to the airport, to meeting Fiona again, to watching their plane take off. And planning all I was going to do in the time I had to myself. Dashing home, then a long hot bath and total body hair depilation. Worry about explaining to Marcia later. After the bath, eagerly anticipating the evening's fun. Fun? Yes fun but a different sort of fun this time. I was going OUT! I'd headed straight for the bath when I got home to wash away all my male smells. Getting out of the bath I wrapped myself in a thin negligee and then began the process of becoming Bethany. I shaved my face incredibly closely, hot water, new razor etc. Twice. Then I went to the spare bedroom where I had all my 'Bethany' items spread out on the bed and hung in the wardrobe. I tucked my cock and balls between my legs before pulling up my lacy black panties, then pulled on my waist nipper to reduce my waist to just about 24 inch. The padded Wonder-bra gave me a bust many women would be pleased with. At each stage I rather vainly admired myself in the mirror, checking I looked just right. Next came the stockings, black and sheer, so flattering. Then it was time for my make-up. I sat at the dressing table and spent over an hour getting the look right. Just a little bit tarty but classy is how I would describe it. Black eye-liner, mascara, bright red lips are all part of the look. I have two wigs, one blonde, one black, I chose the blonde one, shoulder length and curly. I did my stick-on fake finger nails and my favourite colour of nail polish, a deep cherry red, just the sort of thing a 'professional' woman might wear. Cosmetics completed, I add some jewellery; two gold bracelets, a thin gold anklet, a necklace and ear-rings, of course. I love big hoop dangly ear-rings. Strange that I always do jewellery before I dress but that's the way it is. Within minutes I was indeed dressed, in one of my wife's 'business' suits, a deep charcoal colour with an extremely thin white stripe in it. Skirt - short but not too short, and the cream blouse revealing just a little of my enhanced boobs. Just a little, when I had the jacket open which I did. A quick spray of perfume and was ready for the evening. That very first outing, I'd researched it well. The car park was usually deserted in the evenings, in the daytime it served the council offices to the west and, in the school holidays of course, the small area of parkland to the east. But after about 7 o'clock it was empty, nobody there except maybe one or two cars for people dog-walking in the park, even though they weren't supposed to do that in the public park. To the south, the service road and to the north, well, one of the attractions. The toilets, there for the park-goers in the summer and for anyone else caught short in the car park. I'd done my research, called in on my way home and a couple of times later in the evenings. I knew exactly what time the old guy came along to lock them, I'd reckoned that at that time of year I could drive there, wander around in the open air unseen for maybe half an hour in the gathering dusk and still be on my way about twenty minutes before he turned up. Just in case he was early. Ok so I couldn't really pass as a woman but in the absence of company I could 'be' female in that one way, have just one small quantity of vicarious fun. I could go into the 'Ladies'. OK, I know it sounds silly but life's like that isn't it? I mean, people spent fortunes on little glass-like lumps of minerals or chasing an inflated sphere of plastic or leather around, why the hell couldn't I have my own bit of stupid fun, just going into the Ladies' toilets wearing a skirt? OK, so I was ready. I peered out of the window, looked up and down the street, nobody about, that's one of the advantages of suburbs, nobody walks at least not much. A car passed, then it was quiet again. OK, now for it. With speed but not haste I grabbed my bag and my keys, slipped out of the front door and into the car and drove off, along the street, past the shops, nobody gave the car a second glance, and I was out of town heading for the parkland and for 'my' car park. True to form when I arrived it was totally empty, everyone at home watching the soaps or the football or whatever, just me, alone, ready for my first, my very first, 'public' outing. OK, not really public. There were a few houses along the path behind the 'toilets' side of the car park square, anyone looking out of their upstairs windows would get a good view of whoever was in the car park. But from that distance I was totally certain they wouldn't be able to tell my true gender. My height was my only problem really but in only 4" heels I was no taller than many other tall women, I knew I could get away with that. Nobody would be dashing out of their house to run across and taunt a sad 'tranny' on her first outing. I parked, not right up against the building but about forty yards away, I wanted to - well, you know. And I did. I opened the car door and experienced for the first time the thrill of exposure as I watched my nylon-clad leg step out onto the gravel. My skirt rode up a little - I shivered at the excitement of it all. I stood and reached down for my bag, then slung it over my shoulder and slid my long red-tipped fingers down my skirt to smooth it out. I blipped the car alarm and set off walking, towards the building I could see so far away. The sound of my high heels on the tarmac, the swish of my skirt as I stepped out in short steps, the skirt restricting my movements, the feeling of the slight breeze across my hair, the gorgeous bounce of my false boobs as my feet hit the floor, all these experiences, all the aspects of dressing I'd read about in other TV tales or stories on the Net, I was there, myself, experiencing them all. I approached the door, the portal to a world I'd never before been able to enter, the 'Ladies'! I pulled the handle and walked in. OK so it wasn't all that different from the 'Gents', except there was no trough, and more cubicle doors. And in here at least the mirrors above the basins were in better condition, maybe it's intrinsic to gender, the vandalism that is, OK there was some but overall the facilities were in better condition that in the equivalent establishment next door. I knew. I'd been in there too. But for now, I was a 'Lady', entitled to be there, I glimpsed my reflection and smiled internally. I liked what I saw. I took a few moments to look around, not that I needed to perform in there at all. I'd made sure of that before I'd come out, didn't want to be caught short in any way like that. I took my lipstick from my bag and leaned over the small basin to freshen up in the mirror, again not that I needed to of course but it felt good. Then I turned, opened the door again and stepped out, heading towards my car. I'd had a totally awful thought that it might be stolen while I was in there, it did seem awfully vulnerable all alone in the car park. But as I emerged into the dusk, all set to walk back proudly and femininely and drive home in a very self satisfied way, I looked. The car wasn't alone. There was another one. I listened, I heard the engine stop, I saw the car door open and a guy get out and head towards me. Obviously he had done just what I had been determined not to do, he was indeed 'caught short' and needed the loo! I realised afterwards that it would have been so easy to get out of it, simply to turn and go back in, let him reach his own destination, then skip out to my car and drive off. But I just didn't think of that. I was so set on getting to my own car that it just didn't occur to me to change direction. Walking towards my own car. And almost directly towards this guy. I couldn't help it, I was trapped, I had to go through with this. I tried to concentrate as I walked. It was indeed just beginning to get dark, maybe I could get away with this, maybe he wouldn't notice. I strolled on, about half-way there we approached each other. Should I speak? English diffidence took over, no I wouldn't, I'd just walk straight past him. But - he was looking at me. From five yards away, he was looking. "Evening." That was all he said. The one work. Not even a 'good' in front, though that was understood in his words, he'd cut it short. But I had to reply. Hell, I had to get the voice right. "Good evening" The very first two words I'd spoken to anyone 'as a woman'. And I thought there and then that I had got away with it, I just kept on walking, noticing a brief smile as he walked right past me, giving him a quick smile back as my heart pounded fourteen to the dozen. I'd done it, got away with it, not just walked, swung my boobs, showed off, basically to myself but I'd also indulged in 'social intercourse' in some sort of way, OK all I'd done was say 'good evening' to a guy but that counted, didn't it? I was shivering with excitement a little as I drove back home, I calmed down and sneaked into the house. I had that sorted out, how to park just under the tree beside our drive so that I couldn't be seen by any neighbours who just happened to be there. I stripped, changed and spent an hour in front of the TV with a beer, contemplating my very first real 'outing' as a woman. I'd loved it. I wanted to do it again and I knew I was going to. The next night, in fact. I couldn't miss the opportunity. Nearly twenty-four hours later I was dressed - again. Almost the same outfit, different blouse though, same suit again same stockings, same shoes, same anticipation. The same venue, I'd thought, just to do that again would give me such a buzz. I pulled into the car park at just about the same time, empty again, this really was a good spot for it. I parked in the same place and enjoyed again the thrill of swinging my nylon-covered legs out of the car onto the tarmac. I stood and closed the door and turned towards the small building on the edge of the car park. I stopped. Another car was coming into the car park. Not in itself amazing but - it was the same car as yesterday, I was sure. Yes, same colour, same make, same model, same registration number I thought. The door opened. Same man! He was looking towards me. In that situation it's obvious to me now what I should have done. Turn round, get back into the car and drive off. Get out of there quickly. But I didn't. I'd 'passed' as I'd walked past this guy yesterday. I could do it again. OK, he might think it odd that the same woman was there visiting the loo again. It never occurred to me to wonder why the same man was there. I was just thinking 'I gotta do this again'. So I did. I slung the chain of my bag over my shoulder, breathed in, and put my best be-stockinged and high-heeled foot forward, strolling as steadily as I could towards this guy and past him towards the toilet building. As I passed him he turned and reached into the car, we didn't do any sort of conversation this time but we did when I returned after doing my lipstick again. After spending a minute or two inside the toilets I'd come out again and set off to walk past this guy towards my car. "Evening again" he'd said, smiling once more at he but without a hint of recognition. I mean he obviously did recognise me as the woman he'd seen the previous day but there was no indication that I'd been 'read'. "Hello" I muttered and strode past him to my car, getting in and driving off once again in some sort of disturbed state. But happy, oh so happy, that I'd done this again. But I did ponder somewhat about the guy, why he was there. Trying to put myself in his shoes, to think why he was there. Maybe he DID go there every single night, a brief stop-over on his way home, not too keen to get back to the wife. Or maybe it was just co-incidence. Or. Just maybe. Maybe he'd liked what he'd seen that first evening and come back on the off-chance of having another look. Would I have done that, if I'd seen such a woman in such circumstances? Probably not. But maybe I would have. That Thursday night I tossed and turned. I was certainly going to 'dress' the next night, had to, it was my last chance for a while. But - in what way? I was certainly going out again but where? Somewhere different? Or the same place? And If I chose the same place, did I want that guy to be there again? I decided. Yes I did. And this evening was going to be a little different. I had the excuse, end of the week, people dressed differently at the weekends. That business suit had stood me in good stead for three evenings but this time I could wear something else. Something less formal. More attractive maybe? Which is how I ended up, that Friday evening, in 'Transform' at 5 o'clock, asking Elaine, seeking her opinion and her expertise. And dressing up like I'd never dressed up before. That's when she asked me. THE question. "Er - is this for a man?" I had to think. I couldn't deny it. But I didn't really want to admit it, it was too big a step. Tranny? Yes. Bi-curious? Maybe. But did I actually want to dress for a man? I daren't admit it. "Well, in a way." That was all I could say really. And I was ready, Elaine had done a good job on me. I stood there ready, beside the door, I took one last look in the mirror, to try to convince myself that this was going to work. Like many trannies I really did think that in the right circumstances I could pass convincingly as a woman. True or not, I did believe that, it was the reason for my question to Elaine, the reason for spending all that money and time in the 'Transform' store that afternoon. And now, just before 8 o'clock in the evening on a fine Friday evening in early summer, I knew I was as ready as I was ever going to be. The business suit was gone, as was the smart cream blouse and the foam pads inside my bra. This time I'd gone for the real thing. It had cost me several hundreds of pounds but it was worth it. Silicone breast forms combined with tight black full-discipline basque to give me a much more desirable feminine figure. A tight slinky white top, with a plunging neckline revealing a deep dark impressive-looking cleavage, tight black mini-skirt, leather with a wide gold belt matching my choice of jewellery, rings and earrings, two bracelets and a necklet. The same wig, I couldn't really change that, after all I was supposed to be the same woman though dressed up for the weekend, but Elaine had done a great job on my makeup, it was lovely, coal-black mascara to finish off my almond-shaped eyes, deep glossy lipstick to match my extra-long nails. I really did feel as 'lovely' as I had ever done before. Elaine had been right, I was sure. OK I looked a tart but a female tart, at least that was my own opinion. A tranny like me couldn't have asked for more. I slipped on the black jacket I'd brought with me, picked up the bag containing my 'drab' clothes, and stepped out onto the street. "Good luck" called Elaine. I was going to need it. I had parked as close to the front door of the shop as possible, so that without running or calling attention to myself I could get to the car and into the driver's seat. I turned the key and drove off. Starting out from there instead of from home meant that I had further to go to get to my intended destination but that didn't worry me. Safely cocooned in my car, I drove along the outer ring road round to the motorway and headed south. My heart was still fluttering, but I was having the very best time, looking round at the other cars, hoping nobody would spot anything wrong if they saw me. I was safe in the knowledge that I couldn't very well be approached while we were all on the move. As I came off the motorway I checked the time. Just right, a couple more miles, then I pulled into 'my' car park and looked round. Yes. He was there! The maroon hatchback was parked in the same spot as on the previous three nights. I drove past and pulled into my own by-now-regular parking bay. I switched off my engine, checked how I looked as well as I could in the pull-down mirror and smiling as I saw my long red talons pushing the dark blonde curls away from my face. Ready! I opened the door and slid my long stockinged legs out for the last time, appreciating the fact that I was showing a lot more thigh in my tight micro-skirt. I stood and closed the door, slung my bag over my shoulder, and locked up. I turned. The next few minutes was about to be the highlight of my cross-dressing life, walking past HIM. I set off, yet again appreciating the breeze on my nylon-clad legs but this time there was more. My heels were higher, totally slutty 6" black patent stilettos, my skirt was shorter and tighter, my tits seemed much bigger and heavier and though I say it myself, very well presented. Aren't Wonder-bras superb? I strode out in short-ish steps, restricted by the tightness of both my basque and my tiny leather skirt, I was loving it. As I approached THE car, the guy inside got out and stood by the door. I strode on and looked towards him. Three Times a Lady [FOR YOUR INFORMATION: The following story contains rough sex and liberal use of the word 'cunt'. The characters portrayed are over 18 and this is a fantasy story.It is also my first submission and was written quickly.] * Getting Sophia pissed, I proceeded to seduce and fuck her. She was longing for cock, she took mine. Lust overrode the guilt she felt. My long thick cock, satisfied her tight cunt- it was so in need of a hard fuck. She preferred to be on her knees while I ploughed her hot cunt from behind, her face buried in the pillow, gasping and crying for more. She seemed to enjoy my finger up her ass while I fucked her cunt-she got much wetter when I did that. Moaned like a whore. The noise she made when I made her squirt for the first time was indescribably cute. An amazed gasp came from her lips, a sigh, a whimper and a 'Fuck yeah David, do that again please!' So I did. She gushed over my cock- a feeling that makes me pump pussy like a jack hammer. My pace quickened, her cries intensified. Finally, as my cock was gripped in the tight vice of a 25 year old cunt it came- I unloaded a bucket of cum deep inside her. She turned around with a look of shame on her face, trying to cover her body. I put my cock away and grabbed her by the throat. " Are you going to be my secret fuck buddy Sophia?" "Yes," she whispered and closed her eyes. I kissed her full on the lips and then I was gone. The next time I fucked her it was in public. I had texted her and asked her not to wear a bra. I loved her nipples and seeing them erect always give me an instant hard on. She protested but I insisted. We had all gone for a drink down the Longboat Inn. She sat in the summer evening looking hot as fuck as she sipped a Malibu and coke. Her long summer dress showing off her plump ass and curvy tits. Her nipples were as hard as bullets on show for all to see. After an hour she feigned illness and asked me to drive her home. After apologising we left and drove to Dray. It was getting late and the light was fading. The journey was silent. We parked overlooking the lake and got out. Walking to the front of the car I grabbed her ass and squeezed it roughly- she squealed in delight. Bending her over the car bonnet, I hitched up her summer dress and pulled her thong aside. I noticed how damp she was. My cock was so hard it hurt, sliding it in eased my discomfort and brought instant gratification to both of us. She felt so tight and nubile, her ass rocking to my pumping rhythm. Her cunt was well oiled however and it slid in and out so effortlessly. Sophie grabbed the bonnet and suddenly spread her legs further- urging me to go deeper which I duly obliged. As sweat beaded on her tanned ass she then convulsed into a powerful orgasm. That tightening around my cock also sent me into an ungodly eruption inside her. We came together. The third and final time we fucked was after a party. It included Amy, a 5 foot nothing bombshell with a huge rack that she didn't mind showing off. The image of Sophia eating her shaven cunt will last in my mind forever. It started with a few drinks- doesnt it all? I flirted with Amy all night, making Sophia only slightly jealous. I managed to cop a feel of her wonderful breasts and was admonished for being cheeky. Her erect nipples gave away her true feelings about it. It was at Amy's house, so as the party drew to a close we were the only ones left. I followed Sophia into the bathroom and hitched her short skirt up- revealing no knickers. I was instantly hard. I whipped out my cock and entered her tight cunt. It felt hot and well greased as I slid in and out of her. As I looked in the mirror I saw Amy standing in the door open mouthed. Her tousled hair and the look on her face made me even harder. Sophia noticed my pace quicken as I pounded her. "what's got into you?" She whimpered. "You thinking about me eating Amy's sweet pussy?" The look on Amy's face was a picture- surprise and arousal. Her hand delved into her knickers- and had a quick frig of her pussy. She licked her fingers after and looked me directly in the eyes. "Fuck me," she mouthed and left. My attention turned back to Sophia who was cumming a flood over me. I gave her 2 or 3 more hard thrusts and withdrew. "Why did you stop?" she panted in hormonal desperation. "Thought Amy was there" was all I replied and left the room towards Amy. Annoyed, Sophia straightened herself up and followed me out. I found Amy on the couch semi naked. Her tits were on display and her hand was back in her pants- she was feigning sleep. As I approached her eyes opened and the biggest smile drew across her face. She pulled her panties aside and revealed her glistening wet, shaven slit to me. It was swollen and open- she had been giving herself a good workout. "Its yours," she whispered. I didn't miss a beat. I wanted Sophie to catch us. Pulling off my jeans and my shirt I entered her cunt in one swift movement. Amy grunted in satisfaction. God she was tight, even more so than Sophie. The feel of her panties scraping the side of my cock added to the intense feeling. I ploughed that dripping pussy, long deep strokes. Amy pinched her nipples on her huge tits, rubbing and rolling her breasts together. We kissed, tongues slapping together in the heat of the moment. Sophia stood watching, seething and lusting. Her face went red at first, then gave way to arousal.She took off her clothes and slapped me hard across the face as I fucked Amy. All that did was turn me on more. I smiled at Sophia- momentarily pausing my fucking. She slapped me again and I drove deeper into Amy's cunt. Amy cried out, "fuck David, slap him again Soph". Sophie looked at Amy and withdrew her hand. "You can eat me you fucking bitch". Lowering her cunt over Amy's mouth, Sophia faced me. Locking her eyes on me, she opened her pussy lips and Amy's tongue found its way into her wetness. Amy's cries were muffled by pussy. My cock wasn't going to last now and I felt the cum build into an eruption. Unexpectedly I took my cock out and came all over Amy's tummy and Sophia's tits- covering the girls in hot sticky cum. Sophia dropped to Amy's pussy and started to lick her out, cum rubbing between the girls hot, lithe bodies. That was my lasting image as I left the room. Three Times! A Lady? This is a little wander through realms of improbability; concerning a confused young man and his interactions with one particular member of female of our species. Of course it is possible that the young lady in question, had just came up with a novel approach to solving the age old problem of "not being noticed" by her intended pray. My thanks go to SH for her assistance in preparing this improbable tale for posting. Three Times! A Lady? Okay, the first time it happened it took me by such surprise that I really didn't take too much notice. Well now, that isn't exactly true; but she came at me from nowhere and to be honest I'm still not sure of what really went down that day. The second time it happened... well, I figured that it just had to be a case of mistaken identity or something. But the third time, that a complete stranger walked up to me and slapped me around the face, I really thought that it was about time I had a talk to the lady in question, and found out what her bleeding problem was. Look okay, the first time I came across her... or rather felt her distain. I was out with the lads on Ronnie's stag do, and their had been highly probable that one of the guys might have taken a verbal liberty or two with the young lady, that she had mistakenly attributed to myself. Consequently -- when I'd regained my senses -- I kind-a took whoever's punishment with a grin, and laughed-it-off best I could. Well, I have to admit that -- with the quick glance I'd got of her -- I'd observed that she was one very tast... er, desirable looking female. And as the guys were getting a little on the horny side; after we'd visited three of London's less reputable gentlemen's entertainment establishments in quick succession. It seemed obvious to me... highly probable even, that one of the guys might have overstepped the bounds of acceptable behaviour, and said something he shouldn't, if you get my drift. I'll add, we'd been unceremoniously requested to make ourselves scarce from each club in rather rapid succession. Anyway there we were, discussing which purveyor of intoxicating liquors establishment, we were going to get thrown-out-of next. When suddenly this gorgeous looking brunette strides up to me... and -- without a by-your-leave -- clocks me one, right round the kisser. Much to the amusement of my inebriated mates, I might add. Then, just as quickly as she'd appeared, the woman was gone again. My memory of the remainder of that evening is sort-of shrouded in alcoholic haze, even if my credit card statement assured me that it had been a night I should remember. ========================== Whatever, several months had passed and I was standing by the exit gate to the passport and customs control area in Heathrow airport one afternoon, when the brunette made her second appearance. Once again I didn't really see her approach, basically because I was watching out for my sister and her husband's imminent arrival. The brunette was suddenly standing there before me, and then, without uttering a word, she up and clouted me one again. The smack came from nowhere; well, I never saw the bugger coming anyway! "What got her knickers into such a twist, Toby?" My sister -- who unfortunately had managed to witness that incident -- asked. "Buggered if I know, Sis! But I think that's the same bird who left that red mark on my face after Ronnie's Stag night." "So, just what did you do to upset her so much that night?" "Honest Sis, I told you at the time, I never said a bloody word to her. Shit, it was just like this time; I never even saw her coming, until she ups and clocks me one." "And you expect me to believe that?" The expression on my sister's face, informed me that my reputation as 'Mr Nice Guy', had taken somewhat of a knock, in her eyes. I'm not too sure what hers -- who were also travelling with her -- made of the encounter either. ========================== Okay, several more months passed and then there I was, at a big company do in a flash hotel in town. Every bugger I work with on a daily basis was there, plus all the company top brass, including the big cheese himself, and almost everyone's respective spouses as well. As a company, we were celebrating an extremely successful year and several of us minions were supposed to be receiving presentations of some sort for our valiant efforts on the company's behalf; hopefully big cash bonus's. This time I actually did spot her coming, but still far too late to take any kind of avoiding action. "Smack!" my head snapped around like Cassius Clay had just landed me one, and I staggered backwards for a few paces; almost falling over. Something had to be done about this, I kinda had it figured that the bird had to be either working out at the gym, or something. She appeared to getting far more proficient at landing her slaps with practise. However, I was beginning to get just a little bit pissed-off that she was forever using my face to practise on. And besides, she had embarrassed me somewhat, first in front of my friends, then my family and finally in front of my work colleagues "Just a bloody minute miss?" I said chasing after her and taking firm hold of her arm as she tried to make her usual smart get away. "What in heaven's name was all that in aid of?" She turned and looked me directly in the eye; boy, could I see that there was real contempt in her expression. But before she or I had the chance to say anything much else, my department manager -- one John Hewlett, an arse-kisser extraordinaire whom I was not particularly fond of -- was on the scene. "Toby, unhand Miss Wendy this instant. How dare you touch Miss Montague in such a manner?" Hewlett demanded. "But she just..." I tried to explain. But Hewlett wasn't in listening mode. "Toby, I'm disappointed in you, you do not manhandle young ladies like that; especially the new chairman's daughter. Well, not in my presence you don't anyway!" "John, she just slapped me around the face for no reason whatsoever." "Oh don't talk rubbish lad. What did you say to upset her?" "Nothing, I've never spoken to the girl in my life before. She just upped and smacked me one." "Don't give me that sh... rubbish, boy! Nice young ladies don't go around striking people without just cause. Most likely you said something out of turn. Your trouble is young man, that you are far too headstrong; I've warned you about that it the past. God, you'll be lucky if Mr Montague doesn't demand that you're contract is terminated over this! I've got a good mind to terminate it myself anyway." Now up to a point, John Hewlett was right; I am naturally headstrong. I'm a decision maker, and that's what had made me so successful in my job. Whereas, some of my colleagues tend to procrastinate, rather than commit the company to any particular course of action; I don't beat around the bush. I make snap decisions on the information that's available at the time and usually they turn out to be correct. Of course I'd have studied every angle anyway and consequently I've usually prepared for almost anything that goes down. That was the main reason I'd risen to number two in the department at such a young age, hard work and preparation, whilst the rest of the guys were wittering away to one another Headstrong I might be, but something that I have never been, is short tempered. Unfortunately everyman has his breaking point though. This Wendy bird striking and embarrassing me in front of my peers on three separate occasions -- and without any reason that I was aware off -- had pushed my self-control to the extreme limit. John Hewlett -- never my favourite person, who had regularly taken the credit for my hard work -- stepping into the fray and making threats of dismissal, was the proverbial straw that broke the Camel's back. "You can stuff your effing contract right up your bleeding arse." I found myself replying. "This ain't the only company in the world!" With those words I found myself heading out of the hotel's reception room, alone. None of the other guys dared come after me to try and calm me down. They knew me too well, and they were also scared shitless of John Hewlett. ========================== I'm not completely sure of where I went for the rest of the evening. A couple of pubs to start with, I think, and then at least one nightclub; where I could drink until I lost track of everything. Wherever I went, I somehow managed to get home safely, and get my mobile phone lifted as well. Well, possibly I just mislaid the thing! Whatever, sometime during the Sunday afternoon, I was awoken by the telephone; with a headache to rival all others before or since. "Toby mate, where the fuck did you get too?" A so-called mate from the office asked. "I dunno Tony, I tied one on a bit." "Jesus mate, I've been calling you all bloody morning, was there some hell to pay after you done a runner last night. You were supposed to be the number one star of the show, you know?" "Who gives a shit?" "Jesus mate, Montague was standing up on the stage singing your praises and telling everyone that you had made the greatest contribution to the company's success this year, and you were a bloody no show. He looked like a real prune when someone told him you'd left earlier." "Did they also tell him I'd quit?" "No, I don't think anyone dared. Anyway it was in the heat of the moment; no one believes you meant it." I told you that I'm a snap decision maker, maybe what I didn't say was that, once I've made a decision, I bloody-well stick with it. Probably that was the reason that I did so well in my job; at work I was decisive and didn't get cold feet later and change my mind. Regretfully, I hadn't always been as astute when it came to the female of our species and of late had been avoiding emotional involvement with any of them. "Have you ever known me to change my mind, Tony?" "Oh come on, Toby mate. This is a little different; your career is involved here." "Tony, Markham's isn't the only company in the world. And besides, John Hewlett and me have been at loggerheads for so bloody long, I'm sick of it. I'm gone mate, and that's the end of it!" "But your bonus?" "They can stuff their effing bonus right up their bleeding Jacksey's for all I care. Look Tony, I've only just woken up and I need the loo rather urgently, right now. I'll see you Monday when I come in to pick up my gear to say good-by!" With that, I hung up the phone. Tony was one of John Hewlett's arse-kissers; I couldn't really be bothered with the man. During the afternoon, until I pulled the plug on my landline, I received several more anxious calls from concerned work colleagues. I had no idea where my mobile phone had gone, and eventually figured that I must have lost it during my binge session. I never did see the thing again, and had to get a replacement a few days later. Anyway, besides hearing repeats about the debacle of my presentation, that didn't happen. I picked up on some rumours about the reason why Wendy Montague had chosen to clock me one. The consensus of opinion appeared to be, that it concerned an incident that had occurred on the island of Martinique. "Martinique, what the fuck was supposed to have happened there? Where is the place anyway, ain't it one of the places the poseurs go to? Can you imagine me going to a place like that?" I demanded of the guy who first mentioned the island to me. "I don't know for sure. In the Caribbean isn't it. Christ mate you're the bloody sailor; I figure you know where your going." "Yeah round the coast and down to the bloody Med when I can get the chance. I ain't likely to risk taking my little boat across the bleeding Atlantic, am I? Anyway I'm not even sure Martinique is in the Caribbean, it could be one of those flash places in the Indian Ocean, for all I know." ========================== I weren't in any hurry to arrive at the office on the Monday morning. The boxing of your own gear and walking out with it, is always the most embarrassing part of leaving any job. I kind of hung around in a local café until I figured most people would have gone off to lunch. "Hi Toby. John would like to see you. He told me to ask you to go to his office the minute you arrive." "You told me Claire, and I don't care sweet FA about what Hewlett wants. I'll be packing my gear and then heading up to personnel. If he wants me, he better find me before I'm done." Poor Claire, the department's communal secretary and PA, didn't know what to say. I don't believe she had seen me angry before. Well not openly hostile to everyone anyway. I was waiting for the lift up to the fifth floor, when the two security guys arrived in a lift that was on its way down. At the time, the significance of the lifts direction didn't strike me as important. Neither did the fact that they got into the lift with me for the ride up to personnel on the fifth floor. After all, I'd seen employees who'd been fired, escorted from the building a few times in the past. What did strike me as odd though, was that one of them hogged the control panel and pressed the button for the seventh floor, where all the big-knobs hang out. "I want the fifth." I told the donkey. "No mate, you are wanted on the seventh floor!" He replied, with a 'You really don't want to argue with me!' tone to his voice. Taking into account the size of the guy, and the fact that there were just the three of us in the lift -- and consequently there would be no independent witnesses -- I chose to take the advice implied by his tone. On the hallowed seventh floor -- a place I'd rarely had the opportunity to visit -- it was indicated that I should proceed towards the chairman's office. An inner sanctum, I knew of no man who'd ever entered and lived to tell the tale. A very tasty, but at the same time extremely efficient looking secretary, leapt from behind her desk as my escort and I approached and tried to wrestle my precious cardboard box from me. Eventually she conceded that it was my damned cardboard box, and I was bloody-well keeping the bleeding thing; then she opened the gigantic door to the chairman's domain and ushered me inside. "Toby! There you are at last, my lad. I was getting a little concerned that you weren't going to put in an appearance today." Mr Montague said rising from his seat and coming around his massive desk, all the while holding out his hand in welcome. I couldn't exactly shake the proffered hand, because I was holding my precious cardboard box full of junk, wasn't I? After a little confusion, Montague took the box from me and placed it on his desk. Then he shook my hand, somewhat overenthusiastically. "Now, what can I get you to drink Toby... Scotch, or do you prefer Brandy?" "I er..." "Suzy can make us tea or coffee, if you'd prefer. Now, which will it be?" I didn't want anything really; I just wanted to know what the chuffing-'ell was going on. But I found myself replying. "Coffee, I think sir!" Hitting a button on his desk, Montague asked the lovely Suzy to make two coffees, then he turned back to me. "Now sit down, my boy?" He said, indicating towards a massive three-piece suite that adorned one corner of his office. I sat on the sofa and he settled himself into one of the armchairs. Almost at the same instant as Suzy -- his sexy secretary -- taking me by surprise, appeared in the office and went round behind Montague's private bar. Every-time I looked in a different direction, I spotted something else, and the room appeared even bigger than I'd first thought it was. Suzy smiled at me and began making the coffees, whilst Mr Montague muttered inconsequential pleasantries to me, I think. I'll admit, that as overwhelmed by being in the big cheese's presence as I was; my concentration was all but completely taken up by the gorgeous Suzy. Eventually she placed a cup before both Montague and myself. Then left the office again, carrying the third; for herself I assumed. "Now my lad, are you one difficult man to get a hold of? I've had people trying to get in touch with you since first thing this morning." Montague said with humour in his voice. "I've been a little busy, Mr Montague. I do have to find alternative employment after all." That was a lie of course, my telephone back at the flat was still unplugged, and as I've said, I'd lost my bloody mobile. But I figured it kind-a sounded the right thing to say at the time. Sort-a rubbed the point home that I was no longer one of his humble minions. "Now, now lad, that is a silly and short sighted attitude, Toby. Sometimes, we all may say things in the heat of the moment, that we don't really mean." He suggested with a grin on his face. I had never met the man in person before. Well, he was the new chairman who had the reputation of being a ruthless businessman; so I was a little surprised at his demeanour and the conciliatory line that he was apparently taking with me. But I was still on the offensive, and distrusting of the bugger. "Mr Montague. Sometimes, in the heat of the moment we get the inclination to say things we should have said much sooner. Personally I can't stand John Hewlett, I never have liked working under the guy since he took over the department. What happened on Saturday evening was bound to happen at some time or the other; the incident with your daughter was only the catalyst." "Ah yes, Wendy! Hmm, well, I'm afraid she can get a little headstrong on occasion; a little like yourself, in fact. I'm not sure what happened between you two out on Martinique; whether it was just a misunderstanding or something. Whatever it was, she'll get over it eventually." "Mr Montague, I've never been to bloody Martinique in my entire life. If you don't mind me saying, that sort of place, just isn't my scene!" An expression of surprise came over Montague's face. "That's odd, Wendy doesn't usually lie. She seemed pretty adamant that you and her were involved in a lia... er, an incident on Martinique last year." "Then she's mistaken sir. I've never been to the place in my entire life! Actually I'm not even sure where it is." "Oh my, how odd." Montague looked thoughtful for a few moments, and then went on. "Oh dear, your sister said that Wendy had... er, accosted you in a similar manner at the airport some weeks ago, as well as on Saturday evening. That is embarrassing." "And outside a club in town here a few months back. That time she chose to clock me one, in front of my friends. Your daughter, is extremely efficient sir; she's managed to make a scene in front of my friends, my family and then finally my work colleagues. I'd call that a full house wouldn't you? My problem is, that I have no idea why she's taken to using my face as a punching ball." "Oh my god, the silly girl. You could have had her charged with assault." "Yes I could have; but I'm unusually patient with the mentally challenged. I just thought she'd escaped from Shenley or somewhere." "Shenley?" "Yes, it's a special hospital out near St Albans." "Oh, somewhat along the lines of Bedlam I presume. That's where her mother and I thought we were going to end-up several times when Wendy was younger. Wendy always has been a bit of a handful!" "Yeah, you're on the right track. I'd never clapped eyes on your daughter in my life, before she assaulted me the night in April, outside a... nightclub. I was with some friends and we laughed off that first incident. "After our second brief encounter at Heathrow, I figured that she was just a nutcase and ignored it as best I could. Although that particular incident did carry some unexpected repercussions for me. And then at the reception on Saturday evening I figured it was time to have it out with the young lady. I had no idea who she was, but I really can't go through the rest of my life wondering when she's going to pop up out of the woodwork, and clock me one again. Three Times! A Lady? "I'm afraid that John Hewlett intervened before I had a chance to challenge her." "Oh I see, and John Hewlett's intervention escalated the situation somewhat, did it?" "No, not exactly sir, it changed the encounter's direction. I'm a great believer in fate Mr Montague. I'd say that your daughter's action only brought forward by a few months something that would have happened very soon anyway. John Hewlett took all the credit for the Thomas account, didn't he? I worked my bloody arse off on that one, and him coming-on all righteous on me on Saturday evening... Well that was the last straw. "Daniel Thomas is a personal friend of mine, Toby; we play golf together almost every week. John Hewlett might have tried to take the credit for the account. But Daniel told me about all the work you did to smooth troubled waters. Why the hell did you think you were getting that damned great bonus anyway?" As Montague was speaking, a thought suddenly struck home in my mind. "Just a moment sir. Did you just say, that my sister told you about the incident at the airport?" "Yes. I told you, I've had people trying to find you all day. Your PA turned up your sister's telephone number, and I had a little chat with her this morning. Oh, you'd better give her a call by the way; she was most perturbed that we couldn't locate you this morning. She mentioned something about a yacht." "Probably, she thinks I might have sailed off into the sunset again. My sister's never been very nautical, even when we were children and she came sailing with my father and I. She insists I let her know exactly where and when I'm out on the boat." "I'd say she loves you very much, and she is concerned about your health and safety." "Following that little incident with your daughter at Heathrow airport. I'm afraid that my sister doesn't think as highly of me as she used to do sir. She's is convinced that I had to have done something to precipitate your daughter's behaviour that day." "My apologies. Wendy can be difficult and a real trial on occasions; but I've never known her become violent with anyone before. No matter what else results from our meeting today, Toby; I think we need to get you and Wendy together so you can thrash this out between you. "I try to make a point of not meddling in my daughter's social life anymore. I'm sure that when she was younger, Wendy took-up with the most unsavoury of characters just to spite me. But I feel this has got to be an exception; she can't go around striking you every time you encounter each other. God man, you've every right to have her arrested. Are you free for dinner this evening?" "Er, well, yes sir; I suppose I am." I replied. I had no idea why I was still calling the old fart sir, or why I'd so readily accepted his offer of dinner. I had quit the company, after all. But then again, reputedly a complete bastard in the business world; Montague appeared to me to be a very nice guy. So I sat there and listened as he (after producing a mobile phone from somewhere) called his wife, and explained to her that they had a guest for dinner that evening. He also asked her to ensure that their daughter Wendy was present for the meal. "There, that was simple; you and Wendy can sort out whatever gripe she's got with you over dinner. You seem like a personable young man to me Toby, and from what Daniel Thomas told me, you can talk the hind legs off a donkey when you choose too. If you two sit down and discuss whatever Wendy's is with her; then maybe we'll be able to bring an end to that little misunderstanding. "Right, now, we'd better move on to the matter of your employment." "But..." "No buts young man. I'm used to dealing with the likes of John Hewlett. There's a lot of dead wood around in every company. Now I suggest that we forget all about your resignation the other night. It wasn't in writing anyway, and that is how you should have submitted it; as stipulated in your contract of employment." Montague smiled, as if he'd just laid the winning hand on the table in a game of cards. "But I don't think you can remain working with a man who you obviously dislike so much in the mean time. Even if it is for the short period he remains with us. So, for the time being at least, I'm thinking upon the lines of moving you up here to the seventh floor." I have no idea what kind of an expression that statement my face. "Oh, don't look so surprised, Toby. You sweet-talked one of the toughest businessmen I know around, and made a mighty big impression on him." "But I've never met with Mr Thomas." "Yes you did, a rather overweight gentleman; he sits in on discussions and doesn't appear to say very much. Actually, he watches everyone very closely and instructs his mouthpiece with a collection of subtle hand signals. Look, Toby if I don't keep you, Daniel Thomas will be after adding you to his payroll; he's all-but told me as much. "I haven't got anything specific in mind for you up here at the moment; so my personal assistant will have to do for the time being. With a salary befitting that station of course. What do you say to that, young man?" "Um, well I..." "Good, that's what I wanted to hear. I know as well as you do that the offer is far too good for you to refuse. You might be headstrong on occasions, but you are also a realist, not a fool. "Now you take the rest of this week off, as a reward for all the hard work you put on the Thomas account, and we'll see you at the house this evening at seven-thirty for eight, shall we say? Oh, and you can leave that little box of tricks of yours with Suzy; she'll see that it's waiting in your office for you on Monday morning." I kinda gathered that I'd been dismissed; so I picked up my little cardboard box and left Mr Montague's office. "Gets to you, doesn't he?" Suzy said as I stood outside the door in a daze. "Yeah, I'm not quite sure what happened in there really. I went in expecting a fight and I think I got sweet-talked back onto the firm." "You never left, your resignation wasn't in writing. Mr Montague's a stickler for formality in those kinds of things. Now, when you come in next Monday that will be your office over there, Toby." "Christ, did he have it all planned before I even got in there?" "Well, in a way yes. He'd worked out what he wanted, it was how you reacted to his job offer that mattered." "But how do you know that I accepted it?" "You'd be a fool not to accept it, that was obvious to everyone. And of course, I do have the advantage of wearing this." She lifted her long hair to reveal that she was wearing an earphone in her left ear. "Every word that is said in that office is recorded, and I have to take notes as well." "Charming!" "No, just Mr Montague being suitably careful." "Thanks for the nod, Suzy. Is my office going to be bugged by the way?" "Only if you want it to be. I'll show where the relevant switches are on Monday. Now run along and enjoy your week's vacation, Mr Montague will probably run you ragged next week. ========================== It wasn't really a very big house, on the outside. Not a bloody great mansion like you'd expect to see out in the country. But spread over four floors and with a large basement below, it was a surprisingly spacious building. Mr Montague himself let me in, and immediately insisted that I called him Monty. Then he led the way into a very large lounge and introduced me to his charming and remarkably beautiful wife, Silvia. I could see where Wendy had got her good looks. We were still stood in the lounge drinking dry Martinis' when Wendy made her appearance in the room. She took one look at me and stopped dead in her tracks. "Father how could you invite that animal into this house?" She demanded. "I cannot tolerate being in the same room as him?" Then she turned, as if to leave the room again. "Just a moment young lady? You owe Toby here an apology!" Her father said with a commanding tone to his voice. Somewhat surprisingly, Wendy did check her step and turned back to glower at me. "Oh Toby is it now? It was Gerard the last time I encountered the bastard!" "Wendy, there's no need for that sort of language. Toby is a guest in this house." Silvia Montague admonished her daughter. "Well he shouldn't be. He's nothing but a damned philanderer. That man toyed with my emotions mother. He seduced and assaulted me, then deserted me after promising to marry me." Well that explained the animosity Wendy felt towards me, even to me. The problem was she'd obviously mistaken me for someone else. "Miss Montague, I can assure you that I'd never laid eyes on you until our encounter in town that evening in April." "Oh Jerry, do you believe dropping your fake American accent is going to convince me that you aren't who you really are?" "Wendy it's obvious you've made a mistake. Toby here has never been to Martinique in his life." Monty said in my defence. He said it with such conviction, that -- knowing Monty as I did by then -- I figured he'd have checked that fact out very thoroughly during the day. "Oh yeah, well I know otherwise and what's more I can prove it. If he isn't Gerard then your guest will not object to taking his shirt off, will he?" Wendy threw back at her father. "And that will achieve?" Monty asked. "Gerard is a flamboyant and vain creature father!" She spat back at him. He has numerous distasteful tattoos all over his arms and torso." Monty didn't say anything to Wendy; he just looked at me. "I know because, nothing like that is mentioned in your personal file, Toby. But would you mind removing your jacket and shirt? For Wendy's mother's reassurance, if nothing else." Putting my glass on the mantelpiece, I removed my jacket and handed it to Monty. Then I did the same with my tie. Very slowly I began undoing the buttons on my dress shirt, turning to face the glowering Wendy as I did so. God, I had to admit that she really was a good-looking young woman, even when angry. "Oh god no!" Wendy screamed, as the shirt slipped from my shoulders. Then after hiding her face behind her hands for and instant, she fled the room. "Well I think that solves that little misunderstanding, don't you mother? Now all we've got to do is get her back in here to apologise to Toby." As you might have guessed, I have no tattoos. I abhor the things and cannot understand anyone wanting to disfigure his or her body in such a way "I'll go!" Silvia Montague said, and followed her daughter from the room. "It is apparent to me that you have got a doppelganger out there somewhere, Toby. I didn't think Wendy had gone completely mad. You will accept her apology, wont you?" "Under the circumstances sir, I can do nothing else. It is obvious that she was convinced in her own mind that I was this Gerard guy." The dinner gong had rung, and Monty and I were well into a couple of whiskies before Silvia returned. Dragging a very sheepish looking Wendy behind her. Wendy went to apologise for slapping me, but I raised my hand to stop her speaking. "No apology is necessary Wendy, providing that the next time we meet in public, you say hello verbally, and not physically." "Good man Toby. Now you two can talk after dinner; we'd better go in, I should imagine that cook will be getting fractious by now." Monty said and then led the way into their dining room. The meal was accompanied with polite conversation about nothing much in particular. Wendy spent most of the time blushing after Sylvia Montague enquired exactly how many times she had clocked me one in public. Only Mrs Montague didn't exactly use those words. Sylvia raised her eyebrows and smiled at me when Wendy admitted it had been three times. It was obvious that Mrs Montague had not even been aware of the fracas at the hotel that previous Saturday evening. After the meal the two ladies disappeared, whilst Monty and I were served Brandy. "I could get used to this kind of life." I thought as the maid or whatever she was left the room. Then Monty invited me out onto a patio whilst he smoked a cigar. "Sylvia gets a little intense if I smoke in the house nowadays!" he explained. "Here you better have these, Wendy hasn't seen it yet and it would the perfect opportunity for you two to bury the hatchet. We can't have the pair of you at each other throats around the office." "Is Wendy going to work for the company?" I enquired. "Oh yes, I just need to find the right person to show her the ropes and keep her... well, keep her mouth in check, actually. I told you, she could be pretty headstrong when she wants to be. Tonight she's on her best behaviour, possibly because she's embarrassed herself." I peeked into the envelope Monty had given me and saw that it contained theatre tickets, and realised that I was, all-but being, instructed to invite Wendy out on a date. Still, who was I to complain, Wendy was an extremely tasty bit of real estate, and rich to boot. Monty finished his cigar then suggested that we joined the ladies in the lounge. By the way, Sylvia referred to it as the drawing room and so did Wendy. Or to give it its correct description, the withdrawing room. The room the ladies withdraw to after the meal, whilst the gentlemen (me a gentleman that's a bloody joke) smoke cigars, drink Brandy and chew the cud. The conversation was somewhat stilted for a while, and to be honest I really would have liked to have taken my leave. But Monty had given me those bloody theatre tickets, and I had to find some way of inviting Wendy to come to the theatre with me. After a while Monty refilled our glasses -- me trying to point out to him that I had to drive home, but Monty insisting that his driver would do the honours, later -- then he promptly did a disappearing act. Shortly after he'd gone, Sylvia Montague said something about talking to the cook and she also left the room. Wendy and I sat there in silence for a long time until she eventually gushed. "Toby I'm so embarrassed about everything. God its bad enough that I struck you, but to tell you about..." "Wendy, please stop apologising." I said, in as commanding a tone as I could muster. "You made an honest mistake and I can accept that. You embarrassed me in front of my peers yes. But I'll get over it! In fact I already have; so can we say no more about it?" "But what must you think of me I told you that I'd... slept with Gerard." "Jesus Christ girl, this is the twenty first century, not the bloody Middle Ages, and if you don't mind me saying, you are well over the age of consent." "I'm twenty five." She said for some unknown reason. "And I'm twenty eight. We are both old enough to sleep with whomever we wish, whenever we wish, aren't we?" "Yes but to come out with it like that, I've never told my parents that I'd slept with anyone before. It was so embarrassing. And I still don't know how I can make it up to you for slapping you like that." "Warn me it's coming next time next time gal, and maybe have dinner with me on Friday evening. I appear to have a couple of tickets for The Mousetrap on Friday evening as well, perhaps we could go on there together?" Wendy sat and stared at me without speaking for a very long time, and then I remembered what the context of our previous conversation had been. "Oh bugger, now I've embarrassed myself haven't I?" I blurted out. "Look Wendy, there's no... er... strings or anything attached to my invitation. I was just thinking... Well, look I'm inviting you to dinner and the play then I'd be bringing you directly back here." Wendy burst out laughing and then -- once she'd regained her composure -- told me that she would be honoured to accept my invitation. "Perhaps we can be friends?" She suggested. I told her that I liked the sound of that suggestion, then we very formally shook hands on the deal. Shortly after we'd shaken hands Monty and Sylvia returned to the room and Monty informed me that the car would be ready in about twenty minutes. There followed, some more small talk after Monty had refilled our glasses yet again. It was a good idea of Monty's for his chauffeur to drive me home that evening. And probably a better one that I was on holiday and didn't have to get up early the following morning ========================== I spent most of the rest of the week with my sister and explained to her about Wendy's misidentification. Margaret thought that I had to be insane to take her out for dinner and to the theatre. But accepted that, what with my new job offer, I didn't really have much choice. Considering who Wendy's father was, and all. Actually the Friday evening was great fun. Wendy looked absolutely gorgeous when I picked her up from the Montague House. She also didn't take any liberties when I came to ordering her meal. I'd picked an up-market restaurant and she could have fleeced me if she'd chosen too. She daintily held my arm as we walked to the theatre and made interesting conversation. Well, looking back maybe she is a chip off the old block. Thinking about it now, she subtly kept me talking about myself. Before the evening was over she must have pretty-well had my life story out of me, even down to the details of my two failed engagements. I didn't realise at the time, but I've pulled the same trick myself on occasions. She kept me talking about myself; in consequence, I learnt very little about the real Wendy. I tell you what though; I was like a two-year-old when she politely kissed me goodnight on her doorstep when we got home that evening. I really would have liked to have invited Wendy to go on to a nightclub or something with me. But I had specifically told her that I'd take her directly home after the play. ========================== Suzy greeted me at the lift when I arrived on the seventh floor on the Monday morning, and led me directly to my nice new office. It was rather larger than I expected and did have the odour of fresh paint about it. Also, much to my surprise, there were two desks. "Monty's had the decorators in all last week, you two should be quite cosy in here." She said with a wink. "Oops, sorry I spoke; forget I said that!" Suzy added when she saw the look of confusion on my face. Then she went quickly on. "This switch turns the recorders on and off, and this one turns my earpiece on if you want a witness anything that's being discussed." Suzy winked again, confusing me more. "Of course, turn them both off and I can't hear a word, and neither can anyone else. This room is completely sound proof by the way!" Suzy openly giggled, that time. "And this switch here, locks all of the doors. Oh, that door leads directly into Monty's office. The other is to your private facilities." "Private facilities?" "Yes, toilet, private changing room and shower. You can have meals sent up from the staff dining room if you wish as well. That's the main reason the little conference table is over there." "Who am I sharing this office with Suzy?" "Um. Well, I think it better if Monty tells you that himself; don't you? It'll be a nice surprise for you." "I'm not much into surprises from the Montague family, Suzy. I'm sure you know all about my problems with Monty's daughter." "Oh yes, it's been the talk of the sixth floor." "And all the other bloody floors as well I should imagine, after that 'do' at the hotel last week." "I don't get down get down any lower than the sixth floor, Toby, but you are probably right. Still, after word gets around about you and Wendy going to the theatre on Friday evening..." "You know about that?" "Who do you think ordered the tickets, Monty?" "Oh yeah, stands to reason when I think about it." "Okay I'll leave you to settle in, Monty won't be in for another hour or so; he's got a meeting." Three Times! A Lady? Suzy left me alone and after looking through my almost empty desk draws. Suzy -- or someone -- had stowed the contents of my cardboard box reasonably logically. I took a stroll around my little domain and perused the facilities that Suzy had mentioned. "Jesus Christ mate! You'd better not fuck this little number up! How the hell would you ever get used to working in a tiny office on the third floor again?" I asked myself. Unintentionally out-loud I soon discovered. "Charming way for an executive to talk!" A rather too familiar voice said behind me. I spun around and found Wendy standing there grinning at me. How do you like our office?" She asked. "I chose the colours myself, are they alright with you?" "Wendy what...?" "I told you daddy would find me a nice teacher, to show me how to do things around here. After all, all this is going to be all mine, one day. Well... daddy appears to have chosen you." "But Wendy, I've come straight from the third floor. I have no idea how things work up here!" "Oh don't worry, daddy knows what he's doing. We'll probably learn together, only you'll be my guide on how to behave around these people. Now, what do you fancy, coffee or tea?" As we drank our coffees we re-explored the office again together, with Wendy pointing out all the little feminine touches she'd added. Then I took Wendy on a full tour of the lower floors where she'd never trespassed before. I give you that we got some very bewildered looks. Most everyone had heard about the debacle at the presentation 'do', and few could figure-out what was going down. The guys in my old department were friendly enough, if not a little withdrawn, and John Hewlett did a runner the moment we entered the department. I learnt later that he'd been severally reprimanded for not spreading the credit for the department's work, where it was due. Less than a year later, shortly after Hewlett had been told that he'd have to report to me in future, he resigned. Anyway I've got ahead of myself. Over the next few weeks Wendy and I went on a steep learning curve. We sat in on all board meetings and lots of other meetings as well, trying to understand what everyone actually did. We spent time loosely attached to each department. That was fine until it came to the accounts department; there was just too much for us to take in going on in there. But Monty told us we really only had to bother about the bottom line. The accounts director was supposed to worry about everything else. "Mind you, you must never take your eyes off the bugger. A dodgy accounts director can kill any company. Make sure you have a good and reliable set of auditors as well. A big name doesn't necessarily mean you can trust those buggers either." Monty told Wendy and I over dinner at the Montague house one evening. As the months slowly passed I appeared to be becoming a regular dinner guest of the Montague's. I can't say that I was particularly enamoured attending with Sylvia's dinner parties though. They tended to play Bridge after the meal; neither Wendy nor I enjoyed the game very much. Actually we'd often sit out and talk about work. Then came the day that everything changed. Wendy and I had just come back from lunch and I was reading through a very boring report. By then Monty was charging Wendy and myself with reading these damned reports and highlighting anything we thought he should take note of. He must have been reading the same things himself though, because he'd chew both of us out if we'd missed anything he thought important. Anyway there I was staring at my computer screen, when suddenly Wendy was beside me. I saw her hand disappear under my desk to check that the recorders and Suzy's earphone were switched off. "What's up, kiddo?" I have no idea when or why, I'd started calling Wendy kiddo when we were in private. It just seemed the right thing to do and she had never objected. "I was wondering, just how long are you going to keep beating around the bush, Toby?" "Sorry Kiddo, I'm not with you!" "Oh Christ Toby, don't play bloody dumb with me. I see you watching me when you think I'm not looking. And I know that look in your eye as well. When the bloody-hell are you going to ask me out on another date? I can't hang around forever, you know!" "Er, Wendy, I had no idea that you were attracted to me." "That's Codswallop Toby. You know that I was attracted to Gerard enough to fall in love with his looks alone. You're his bloody double, so you were more than half way there before we'd even met." "I wouldn't have thought that, taking the circumstances of that meeting into consideration, Wendy." "Yeah but I thought you were Gerard then, didn't I? But eventually I discovered you weren't. You're a completely different kettle of fish. Shit Toby, I fell in love with you at that bloody play we went to. "Christ, I made it clear enough didn't I? I asked if you were romantically involved with anyone and you assured me that you were a free agent. Why did you think I was interested? And I've even made it clear enough that I'm not interested in any of the guys who've tried to come on to me when you're around. I've even told that you they were wasting their time." She had me, she really did; I had fallen for Wendy pretty soon after we started working together. But for obvious reasons, I hadn't dared push my luck. "Wendy... Well, you're right, I am more than attracted to you, but..." "But what?" "Well you're are the bosses daughter and well... there's the old adage about the guy who... courts his way to the top." "Ooh-er, what a diplomatic way to but it? But haven't you noticed something Toby. You're almost at the top right now and we haven't been dating. Everybody in the building thinks we have, by the way; so it wouldn't make any difference anyway. "Look my father has a plan. I have a pretty large portfolio of shares in my father's numerous enterprises. Daddy controls them at the moment and represents me on the various boards etcetera. His plan of getting me in here was to teach me how to run a company, I'm supposed to branch out and take things into my own hands by the time I'm thirty. But before I do that, I need a good husband who will be there with me. She looked into my eyes and grinned. "Actually he's going to have to run everything because I'll need to be home looking after all of our children. I want lots of children, and I know you do as well." "What gives you that idea?" "You've told me on numerous occasions, Toby." "I have?" "Oh yeah, you certainly have. Now what say you flick that little switch under your left hand and we take this conversation over to the couch." "Sofa!" I said, as we both heard the distinct click of the office doors locking. "Okay Sofa. But it will be a drawing room!" Suzy was all grins when we left the office later in the day. I didn't discover until later that a little 'Do not disturb!' light illuminates on Suzy's desk, when that door lock switch is pressed. Life goes on Note: There's one question that Toby apparently never thought to ask himself. Did the "Gerard" character, ever really exist?