Part One
I had been working happily at my current job for two years before things took a turn for the worse. The division manager, who was so greatly loved and admired by nearly all the staff, decided that he needed to make the most of life and so retired in order to travel the world with his wife.
Having been one of his most eager understudies he had urged me to apply for the role of manager so that upon his arrival I would be able to run the office as efficiently and as pleasantly as he had done. He had given his endorsement to the personnel managers, whose decision it would ultimately be who got the job, and tutored me on my interview technique. I was young, being only 20 years old, but he was sure I had what it took to get the job.
Admittedly it can be said that I was a little overconfident and so it came as a huge surprise to me when I was not offered the job. With a letter of condolence from the personnel manager I was told that, although I made a good impression, I would not be getting a promotion just yet and I should consider applying next time a position within the company presents itself.
It was not, however, my failure to get a promotion that signalled the turn for the worse. It was instead the instatement of Nathalie Andrews as the new divisional manager that left me so utterly ill at ease with a job I had previously enjoyed greatly.
Fresh out of University, Nathalie Andrews was, in fairness, perfect for the job. She had entered university at a young age and had excelled through all of her courses with ease. Although she had never held a job before, thanks to her reliance on rich parents, she was generally likeable to people who she knew she had to impress, in short she was a manipulator. Her innocent good looks and pleasant demeanour did not extend to the office over which she now worked and she systematically undermined, belittled, threatened and bullied the staff. I, being the close second for her position, was where the majority of her atrocious people skills were directed and, although I never let it show, she successfully made my life miserable.
Luckily for me, things soon changed.
About two months after Nathalie- or as an underling such as me should say, Mrs. Andrews- started her reign of terror I came across a discovery that would eventually help me put that bitch in her place. One Wednesday after work I was walking along Aylesford Road in a seedy part of town to visit a friend that lived nearby. To my surprise, out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone who was the spitting image of Nathalie enter a fairly well concealed hole-in-the-wall sex shop. Instinctively I pulled myself close to the door of the shop I was near and, cautiously, I looked out towards the sex shop in question. For a moment I paused and considered what to do; this discovery could allow me to bring some kind of peace to the office, I could blackmail her.
I knew I needed evidence, I reached for my phone. It was brand new and had a rather advanced camera which I had not yet had time to try out. Luckily, in a neighbourhood where people were careful to mind their own business, I did not attract any attention as I readied myself and pointed my camera towards the door. After about ten minutes or so my mark emerged from the store, this time I was sure it was definitely Nathalie. I took several photos of her leaving, making sure to get the shop in the picture, they came out perfectly. I took several more as she walked towards Odessa Quay, making sure to get the bag she was carrying into the shot- it had the name 'Garden of Eden: Adult Concepts' emblazoned in purple lettering on the side. Still managing to remain hidden from Nathalie's under-cautious eyes I took more and more shots of her, finally taking several shots of her getting into her Mercedes and driving away, plates fully visible, it would be plain for anyone looking at these pictures to see that it was Nathalie.
I stopped for a moment and scrolled through the pictures on my phone, most of them were perfect, I had about twenty shots that incriminated her; I was ecstatic. For a moment I worried that my evidence against her would not be sufficient and I stopped a minute, heart pounding, as I played my blackmail through in my head. It would never work, I needed more evidence.
With a sudden burst of enthusiasm I headed back towards Aylesford Road, I had a plan, it couldn't fail. Arriving outside the sex shop I looked around cautiously, eager not to fall into the same trap as Nathalie, when I was satisfied I was not being watched I swiftly stepped over the threshold into the 'Garden of Eden.'
Taking my next few steps very carefully I headed towards the counter where an array of dirty magazines was on display. I looked timidly towards the cashier, a tattooed woman with a nose piercing, and looked back towards the magazines; it was time to put my plan into action. "Are these all you have?" I asked quietly, indicating the aforementioned smut-rags.
"Yeah..." answered the cashier in a similarly quiet tone, "...just those ones there."
"That's a shame..." I said, not wanting to sound too eager. "I was looking for something a little more... illicit,"
"Is that so? What did you have in mind?" She said, equally cautious, she was probing me, just as I had hoped.
I looked around, the store was empty. "I'm sure an intelligent woman such as you can work it out. What do you have behind the counter? I can pay cash."
She looked around the room, making sure it was empty. Satisfied that we were alone she beckoned me closer to the counter and slid open a drawer. It was filled with all sorts of pornography which was clearly banned under the new regulations and with a swift click of my phone I documented what I saw for posterity. The woman look shocked, she was perfectly well aware of what I had just done and the implications of it, she went pale and slammed the door closed. She was speechless.
"Now..." I said, authoritatively. "...I'm sure you understand what the penalty is for that kind of an offence."
She was stunned silent.
"There's no need to worry, I won't be reporting you, and after today you won't see me again, I just want some information, that's all."
"I-Information?" she asked, still in shock.
"A woman was in here about ten minutes ago, she had red hair and was wearing a business suit, I want a copy of what she purchased."
"What?" asked the clerk; suddenly regaining her composure.
"I want a copy of her receipt; if you please." My tone showed that I was not to be underestimated.
She knew that she had lost and decided to comply. She began hammering on the keyboard and soon, without much delay, she had successfully printed what I had ordered. Snatching it from her I took a look at the sheet. At the bottom of the page I discovered what I had hoped, the stupid bitch had paid by credit card, her name was printed in full for anyone to see. I stopped for a moment and considered my next move.
"Tell me..." I said, my face still intent upon the paper, "...Does she come in often?"
"Uh... Yes... Maybe once a month, I can get you a list of other things that she's bought."
"Please," I said noncommittally, as if I had anticipated her helpfulness.
The cashier tapped on the keyboard again and more paper began printing off. "She has an account here," she said, trying to break the horrible quiet of the store, "I'm just printing out her entire history."
This helpfulness really was welcome, perhaps the penalty for illegal pornography was more severe than I had suspected. She handed me four more pieces of paper, detailing account history that went back about six months, it made very interesting reading. Lube, cuffs, whips, canes, gags, straps, dildos, butt plugs, she'd bought the lot, I couldn't believe my eyes. "Tell me..." I said calmly, "...what do you know about her? Is all this for just for her?"
She seemed unwilling to answer me. I lifted the phone and shook it side to side like a wagging finger; she seemed to get the message. "I think she buys it for her master, I'm not sure though, she seems like the submissive type to me. She always gave off that impression."
"You've been very helpful." I said, genuinely acknowledging her help. I headed for the door, my papers clutched tight in my grip.
A voice called after me, it was the cashier. "Sir..." she said desperately, "...what about those pictures?"
I stopped for a second. "Oh, I beg your pardon, I am sorry." I held up my phone so she could see and deleted the picture. I stepped out into the street and called my friend to cancel our meeting tonight before heading straight home.
Part Two
On returning home I headed straight to my computer where I instantly made copies of the receipts and printed all of the pictures that I had taken from my phone. Through some simple searches on the internet I had managed to find several mentions of Nathalie Andrews in various society and cultural columns. She mingled with the elite of the local area and I was certain that they would not be impressed with one of their number visiting sex stores and buying all manner of illicit goods. By ten o'clock I had gathered information on her various society commitments, her wine club, her book club, her pony club, I left nothing to chance. I found addresses for her parents, her grandparents, her university professors, everybody I could think of that would be less than impressed by the sexual exploits of the perfect Nathalie Andrews.
