Working Girl 21

By Susan Brown

Once again my thanks go to Kristina LS for knocking this into shape

I was in a taxi on my way to my dinner date with Roger and I was, to say the least, a little nervous. No, let’s not lie about this, I was shit scared.

Knowing what the slime ball had done to poor Jane, I was very concerned about the fact that things could go seriously pear shaped very quickly.

I looked down at myself. I was wearing an even sexier dress than I had worn at work earlier.

I had ‘borrowed’ Sheila’s black leather skirt and red satin long sleeve blouse. The blouse was a bit big for me, Sheila being somewhat, shall we say, more developed than I was; this helped hide my electrical bits and pieces, you know, the mike and receiver whatsit.

My legs were encased in sheer black stockings and I had red satin knickers, suspenders and bra on underneath. In short I felt that I would not look out of place at a hooker’s convention. I had on some heavy disco going makeup and I could feel the wind from my eyelashes every time I blinked.

The taxi driver fell over himself to help me into his cab and I could see from his face that his thoughts were not on the last church meeting he attended.

As the streets went by, I looked out of the window unseeing, remembering the somewhat fraught day that I had just had.

Roger had been the perfect example of someone trying to be nice but not quite making it. Every time I had to go into his office, I felt that I was being undressed with his eyes. By his eyes? Well you know what I mean.

I tried to be pleasant but it was hard and so was his prick that seemed to tent his trousers every time he saw me.

I had spoken several times with Ronald and Derek about what was going to happen and they were extremely reluctant to let me do it.

Derek’s view was that a quick castration would do the trick but I insisted that we must not go down to Rogers’s slimy level; tempting though it might be.

Somewhere along the way to girlhood, I had gotten a bit stubborn and fed up with being used and abused by certain people. Now I was determined to help Jane and all the other girls that had fallen into the Roger trap by fixing him, hopefully for good.

The taxi jerked to a halt. The pink flashing neon light outside said ‘La Romantica Bistro’.

I had arrived.

I paid the driver an extortionate  £24 for the ten minute drive telling him to keep the change out of  £25. I think he expected more but I wasn’t going to help pay for his villa in Spain and anyway he probably earned at least twice what I did.

I stood outside and looked through the window. We had agreed to meet inside, so I took a deep breath and walked in.

The heat hit me immediately, it was like a sauna in there and I could feel a rivulet of sweat, sorry I’m a girl now, perspiration, run down the small of my back.

‘Ah, Mademoiselle ,’ said a waiter in a sort of false Maurice Chevalier accent. He was looking me up and down and sort of hovering around my breast area.

‘Ave you booked a table?’

‘No, I am waiting for a um friend, er Roger…’

‘Ah yes, Monsieur Pilkington is a regular client of ours, he has booked a table and has yet to arrive, may I offer Mademoiselle a drink?’

‘In a moment, could you tell me where the toilet is, please?’

‘Certainement; through there, third door on the left.’

I went where indicated and found myself in the ladies loo and headed over to a stall and locked myself in.

After sitting down to do the business, I checked the position of the mike and the receiver and switched it on. The receiver was also a recording device made by those devilishly cunning Japanese and it could record for a couple of hours in mp3 format without the need to change the battery on anything.

I pulled up my knickers and placed Percy in his go to sleep mode between the legs. With luck, I wouldn’t get a peek out of him tonight. Let’s face it Roger was not my type.

I pulled up the skirt and zipped it up. It was a bit tight over my bum, being somewhat figure hugging, but anything to titillate Roger was worth having on. As you can see, I was desperate to nail the bugger.

I stopped for a second, realising that my language was getting a bit crude. I shook my head; it was being around Sheila all the time. I made a mental note to lay off the naughty words in future and act like an English rose, perhaps a bit wilted but still a rose.

Exiting the stall I went over to the mirror, washed my hands, freshened up my lippy, then brushed my hair and left the safety of the loo.

As I walked back into the restaurant, I saw Roger, using one of those breath freshener things, quickly putting it away as he saw me.

He looked me up and down, his eyes taking in my clothes. I could see that he approved of the look.

‘Enchanting, my dear.’

What, did he think he was Rhett Butler or something? Ah well, I couldn’t give a damn.

Time for the big act.

‘Hello Roger, my you look dishy tonight.’

‘As do you my dear, as do you. Here is a red rose, just for you. Now, let’s go over to the table, shall we?’

I took the rose, trying to avoid getting pricked by a thorn as he steered me towards a booth in the corner of the room. I was surprised that it didn’t have a blue plaque up on the wall to say that 'Roger conquered here' or something.

There were a lot of potted plants about and this helped make the booth feel somewhat private and secluded.

The waiter came over and Roger did the ordering. I couldn’t of course as I was only a feeble minded girl without a brain.

He ordered prawn cocktail followed by steak and chips, which wasn’t very romantic or adventurous and some red house wine. He wasn’t pushing the boat out, was he?

‘The prawns are an aphrodisiac, the steak will help you keep up your strength and the wine will compliment the meal and help mellow your mood.’

‘Whatever.’ I thought, as I gazed longingly into his eyes. Good actress, aren’t I?

As we ate our meal, I tried to get Roger to open up.

‘So Roger, are you sorry for what you said to me at lunch the other day?’

‘Darling, it was a simple misunderstanding. We are both adults and I of course realised that you and I had something special going. You had a few drinks more than you should, but that helped you to relax and you misinterpreted what I said. I wouldn’t harm you in any way and as I said before that thing about blackmailing you and telling Pippa and your uncle about things was only my little joke.’

‘But you also said and I think I remember your exact words, “You see I know people, press and such like. They would love a juicy story like this. How would you like to have your face plastered over all the local papers?” Did you mean that?

‘Of course not…. Let’s not talk of such unpleasant things now.’

He flashed me with a pearly smile and I blinked at the glare.

The food arrived and then our supposed French wine waiter slopped about an inch of wine into the bottom of Rogers glass, to taste.

He tasted, slurped, smelt and swished the wine around in the glass and then pronounced it to be of a vintage and taste that he approved of. My glass swiftly followed by Rogers, was filled to the brim by the waiter

We chatted, small talk. I was trying to draw Roger into disclosing his other conquests.

‘So Roger, you are handsome, charming and all that, why hasn’t some beautiful girl made you hers?’

‘Well, it’s not for the lack of trying. I have the face and personality that seems to draw beautiful women like moths to the flame.’

(Yuck!)

‘So, why hasn’t one of these beautiful moths captured your heart?’

‘Well, I’m sensitive by nature and I feel that until the right girl comes along, I must save myself and not be drawn into a relationship that might hurt me.’

(Is he for real?)

‘Drink up, its lovely wine.’

I sipped and then looked over Rogers shoulder.

‘Ooh, isn’t that David from the office?’

Roger swiftly looked around and I deposited the wine into the nearest convenient plant pot.

‘No, that isn’t David.’

‘Sorry, I must need glasses. Drink up Roger, I’m leaving you behind.’

Roger, being a full blooded ‘man’, could not be seen to be out-drunk by a mere girl, drank the wine back in one pull and then he filled my glass and his one again.

He clicked his fingers and the wine waiter was there at the speed of light.

‘Another bottle, waiter.’

‘Certainly sir,’

The French accent had turned to Birmingham for some reason. I assumed that the waiter had a split personality.

‘So Roger,’ I said getting the conversation back on track, ‘I heard on the office grapevine that there are one or two girls that have fancied you from afar.’

‘Yes, I suppose it’s true. I am cursed with being handsome. It’s a burden I have to bear.’

I took a sip of my wine and looked over to the other side of the room.

‘She’s pretty.’ I said conversationally.

Roger looked around and ogled a girl with size DD cups oozing out of her low cut dress as I deposited another glass into the plant pot. The plant in question was obviously not used to drinking too much, it sort of started to lean a bit to the left.

I coughed delicately and Roger turned back to see me putting my empty glass down.

He frowned, looked at his glass and emptied it with a few manly swallows.

He filled both of our glasses to the brim and clicked his fingers to the waiter.

‘Sweet trolley pleash.’ he said to the waiter. And can we have two brandiesh pleash?’

A few minutes later, we were tucking into some black forest gateaux.

I had another sip.

‘Goodness me, is that table on fire?’

I pointed to a table where some sort of flambé thingie was being done.

Roger lurched around as I toppled another glass of wine into the now pissed, sorry I mean inebriated, plant pot.

‘Itsh a flambé.’ said Roger swaying slightly in his seat and staring at my glass as if it was from some other world.

‘Drink up, Roger. I’m leaving you behind.’

He frowned, did a sort of hiccup and picked up his glass. He took a deep breath and downed it in one.

He tried to put the glass down but missed and it fell on the floor instead. Luckily it was thick carpeting so it didn’t break.

The waiter came back with the brandies and took the dishes away.

‘Well Roger, have you blackmailed anyone else.’

‘Only Jane and Sarah and Michelle and Nicola and they won’t talk. I know too mush I mean much about them.’

He looked sheepish and put his finger to his lips.

‘Shhhh,’ he said ,’thatsh our lickle secret.’

His eyes were beginning to cross now. Here was a man who obviously couldn’t hold his drink.

I drank a small amount of the brandy and accidentally dropped my rose on the floor.

‘Ooh Roger, can you pick that up for me?’

Roger nearly fell off the chair as he scrambled onto the floor.

Not wanting to cause the pot plant any more suffering, I tipped my drink into Roger’s, just before he surfaced again.

He shakily handed me the rose and did a sort of double take as he saw that my glass was empty.

‘I’m feeling a bit thirsty Roger, drink up and then we can have a nightcap.’

His hand actually shook as he picked up the glass, too piss… I mean drunk to realise that he now had a double. He drank the fiery liquid down as quickly as his chattering teeth would let him.

He coughed several times and then seemed to focus again, all be it somewhat blearily.

‘Shall I order one more for the road?’ I said innocently. ‘Or have you had enough?’

To give him his due he wasn’t a quitter, he just nodded.

In no time the waiter was back and this time I ordered.

‘Two doubles please and I think we need the bill.’

‘That is not necessary mademoiselle.’ He said reverting to a form of French,’ Roger has an account with us.’

‘I bet.’

The waiter came back with the drinks and left us to it.

Roger had a slight grin on his face and the look of someone not quite all there.

I sipped my drink and said ‘Roger, are your flies undone?’

He looked down, swayed a bit and played with his zip while I poured my drink into his.

‘No, itsh OK, peter the penishh is all tucked up.’

He looked at my glass. It was empty.

‘Do you want to drink up, and then we can go.’

He looked at me and said. ‘You are waiving about a bit. I think you’ve had too mush to brink.’

‘Oh you are right. What shall we do?’

‘I know a little hotel, hic, around erm corner, look after you til morning.’

‘OK, drink up and you can show me.’

He looked a bit green, but being the testosterone filled creep he was, he downed it quickly and swayed to his feet.

‘Come on, letsh go. I’ll help you, you’re swaying all over the plassh. Hic.’

I helped him to his feet and then after weaving through the restaurant and knocking a few tables over, we managed to get out of the restaurant.

I, of course knew where the hotel was, as Jane had been very helpful in that respect. Luckily, it was literally just around the corner. Any further, and I would have been in trouble, as I was nearly carrying him and he was far from being a lightweight.

I got him up the steps of the hotel with the help of a porter and sort of leaned him against a post while I spoke to the receptionist.

‘Has Roger Pilkington made a reservation?’

‘Oh yes, it’s room 13 on the first floor.’

‘I thought he might have. Mr Pilkington is feeling a bit um unwell, can anyone help me get him up to the room?’

‘Certainly, miss.’

She rang a little brass bell and in no time, we were going up to the first floor, Roger being held up by two strapping bellboys.

He started singing ‘I left my Heart in San Francisco, off tune and we all winced as he missed every other note.

When we arrived at room 13 (unlucky for some), we manhandled Roger onto the bed and I tipped the bell boys for their help.

Soon I was by myself with Roger. He was snoring quietly, overcome by alcohol and well and truly out of it.

There was a knock at the door.

I went over and opened it.

‘Hello.’

I stood aside as Sheila, Ronald, Derek and Jane came in.

‘Is this the bugger?’ said Sheila.

‘Yes, this is Roger.’

Sheila went over to him and looked down with disdain.

‘Did he talk?’

‘Yup, got it all on the recorder.’

‘Good; can I flay him now.’

‘No, Sheila, we agreed to do it my way.’

Ronald and Derek came over to the bed.

‘Ooh doesn’t he look peaceful like that with his thumb in his mouth, Derek?’

‘Yes Ronald, it's a pity he won’t be so peaceful tomorrow.’

Jane just looked on with a bemused half smile on her face not really knowing what was going on. I knew. I wanted her to see him in his humiliation and that might help her to move on.

We all laughed and got to work…

Next morning I arrived at work early.

We had a wonderful email system, you could send out messages to everyone in the building with just a few clicks.

I went to Rogers’s computer and turned it on. I knew the password as he had told me to check on something when he was in a meeting once and he had to give it to me.

The password was STUD; surprised?

I fired up the computer and opened Outlook then put in a pen drive and transferred some stuff onto his computer.

Shortly afterwards an email with attachments went out to everyone in the office and then I shut the computer down and went to have a coffee satisfied in a job well done.

It was some three hours later that Roger came in and called me in to his office.

As I walked in, I saw that he looked very much the worse for wear. He hadn’t changed from the previous night, looked dishevelled and had stubble on his chin

‘Roger, are you OK?’

‘No I’m not. What happened last night?’

‘What, do you mean after the meal? You were unwell, so I took you to a hotel around the corner from the bistro. I left you to sleep it off. What’s happened?

‘I woke up with a blinding headache and realised where I was. I couldn’t remember much about last night. Anyway, after having some strong coffee I went to pick up my car. I just started it when there was a tap on my window. Two policemen had me out of the car and frisked me. Then they had me blow into a bag, I was evidently still over the limit and they took me to the police station. They are going to prosecute me for drunk driving and I’ll lose my licence.

‘Oh dear, never mind.’

‘Never mind! I need a car for my work. I’m in marketing and I travel thousands of miles every year. I’ll have to appeal.’

‘There, there Roger, can I get you a coffee?’

‘Yes, three sugars.’

I went to the door and opened it, pausing before I left.

‘Oh Roger, I think you need to check you’re email.’

He looked puzzled as I quietly shut the door behind me.

I didn’t bother getting him a coffee, just went over to my desk humming ‘I left My Heart in San Francisco’; I couldn’t get that tune out of my head for some reason. Still humming I looked at the email that everyone else had now received and clicked on one of the attachments to open the picture.

Roger was naked on his stomach, tied to the bed with leather straps on his wrists, studded leather collar around his neck and a single rose strategically placed in the crack of his bum. You knew it was Roger as there was another pic of him from a more flattering angle on his front again, this time with a dummy in his mouth.

Also attached to the email was an mp3 audio file. In that mp3 he could clearly be heard to implicate himself in blackmail and other nasty stuff. The names of the girls involved had been bleeped out.

Roger left the company by mutual agreement one hour later and more than one of us cheered at his parting. Rumours around the office whispered that at least two girls were going to the police about what Roger did to them.

I carried on working in smug mode as if nothing had happened. Pippa said that I would be reassigned to work with someone else. I hoped that he or she would be an improvement on Roger.

I got back from lunch and there was a hand written note on my desk.

Toni,

Please come and see me as soon as you are back.

Uncle Peter.

‘Oh Gawd what now!’

To be continued…

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