Trading Stocks for Bonds (How Linsey was Collared)
Her teacup chinked against its saucer. Not once, but five or six times in quick rattling succession. She was trembling and couldn't hide it.
"I can pay you back," Linsey Altmell pleaded with passion. "You know I can net that amount in just one year. I did it two years ago."
Apart from a security man blocking the door there was only one other person in the plush office at 6:30pm on a Friday evening. Ranulph Markham, her boss and chairman of Markham Brandham Stockbrokers sat on the other side of the large teak desk.
He frowned to indicate he did not share her optimism. "Miss Altmell, we're talking about eighteen million pounds! Perhaps there is more we haven't uncovered yet. You are not in Leeson's league, and this company certainly won't be going the way of Barings, but you have nevertheless wiped out almost one percent of my personal net worth. Miss Altmell, a schoolchild could have handled these accounts better than you did, although perhaps not as deviously."
Linsey gave up trying to drink her tea. The clattering of her cup and saucer only served to incriminate her further. She placed them carefully on the table and moved her trembling hands onto her lap.
Their eyes met. His, a sixty-five year old glazy blue, slightly baggy and wrinkled beneath; hers a vivid penetrating hazel, still glistening with the beauty of youth. She was not the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, but he thought her more attractive than most - a pleasant face, long brown hair, a slim body; and she knew how to dress well, an increasingly rare thing in the modern age. For her part, Linsey had always thought Markham rather good-looking in spite of his advancing years.
It had been hectic week on the markets and Markham was tired of talking prices and profits. He valued his weekends, putting aside financial matters to concentrate on his true passions. Closing up the file containing Linsey Altmell's catalogue of disastrous deals he declared to himself that the weekend had just started.
"Am I fired?" Linsey asked, perplexed at why Markham couldn't just come out and say it.
"No. I'm not firing you. That would be too easy," he replied.
She squirmed awkwardly in her seat and ventured another question: "So are you going to call the police?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "Why bother? You might go to jail for a couple of years. Then you are released, you write a book and sell the film rights. Meanwhile I'm still eighteen million down. I might have to close one of my charitable foundations."
"So, you're going to keep me on?" She asked, smiling, but a little surprised.
"Yes I am... after a fashion. You are an attractive young woman, with a pretty face and a nice body. Miss Altmell, I intend to have you."
She became wide-eyed with shock and gave a nervous laugh, unintentionally mocking him. Her boss might be a rich and powerful man but she always regarded him as a gentleman not a sexual predator. This didn't suit the mild-mannered chairman at all.
"This is a joke, right? It's ridiculous! You're trying to blackmail me, and I have a witness to that effect," she glanced at the impassive security guard by the door then looked Markham squarely in the eyes. "You... can't... have... me," she snarled, "I resign!"
Her witness was Cormack, Head of Security at Markham Brandham. After two years with the firm Linsey still didn't know if it was his first or last name. Like 'Shakira' he used to joke, as only a man 6'5" tall and built like a boxer can. He was good looking, helpful and sociable, liked by everybody including Linsey, but everyone knew him to be fiercely loyal to his employer. He did not return Linsey's glance. Instead he looked at his boss, ready to carry out any instruction.
"You misunderstand me Miss Altmell." Markham said, appearing not to take offence from her comment or the implicit ageism. "I didn't mean to suggest anything as crude as bedding you. I'm well catered for in that respect already. What I meant was to
have you,
in the sense of
owning you.
Owning your body permanently."
Linsey was stunned into silence for several seconds. "This is sick." She said, rising from her chair. Cormack immediately moved towards her.
"Sit!" Ranulph Markham barked. Linsey recoiled at the surprising ferocity of Markham's command. She sat down again whilst Cormack backed up to his position by the door. "I haven't explained what I intend to do to you yet."
Linsey prided herself on her cool composure but it was being severely tested. Feeling her mouth drying up she reached again for her teacup. This time she left the saucer on the table, but it still rattled as she lifted the cup. It needed both her shaky hands to raise the cup to her lips. Markham bided his time. He enjoyed watching her discomfort as she sipped repeatedly, hoping perhaps that the cup contained something a good deal stronger than tea.
She put the cup down decisively, as if strengthened by the tea. It had to be a sick joke, she thought. You can't turn an employee into a sex slave. Not even if she's lost your company eight million pounds. Not in London in the twenty-first century! She realized she was taking this game far too seriously. It was time to humour him.
"Okay Sir." She sat up straight and ground her buttocks into the seat with a little wiggle as she tried to regain her poise. "Then please explain what are you planning to do to me."
Markham was happy to oblige. In fact he had been waiting for this moment. He spoke slowly and deliberately in his gravelly tones so that Linsey could absorb every word.
"First of all, you will remove all your clothes. You can do it by yourself or with Cormack's assistance, I really don't mind. Your jewelry too, you won't need it anymore. I'll donate the proceeds to one of my charities."
