Chapter 1
Yet another lonely night set Tiffany Burton-Jones thinking yet again that her biggest mistake of the past decade had been getting married. Her husband Tim was selfish and neglected her, and in satisfying his business ambitions was probably being unfaithful to her as well.
He was away from home such a lot and for so long that a couple of times she seriously began thinking of dumping him.
Tim's grandfather had established Feline Foods. Its canned tuna in twelve different flavours sold under the Mew label and was the 8th largest selling brand of cat food in the UK. Tim had inherited the business and was company CEO and the third largest stockholder after Knox-Chapman Bank and the Allied Workers' Union Pension Fund.
Earlier that year, on Tiffany's 40th birthday, Tim had consulted the bank and it was agreed to appoint Tiffany to the vacancy on the board of Feline Foods. The move had to involve the full board but the other board members knew their chances of re-election would evaporate if they voted against the chairman's nomination of the new director that had the support of the bank.
Tiffany hadn't been consulted.
Tim just told her she would be elected as a director the next board meeting and that was his birthday present.
She would have preferred the new Mercedes sports car she'd hinted at by leaving a brochure about it on top of his magazines beside the bowl in their bathroom suite. But no, her had manipulated her like a pawn.
Tiffany, within twenty minutes of taking her seat at her first meeting after being elected and without having received any briefing or given pre-meeting business papers, boggled when reading about the next item of business: a proposed loan of £7 million for relocation of Feline Food's East Coast plant to new leased premises seventy miles away from the present location as part of location strategy, whatever that meant.
Tiffany realized she didn't know the company had a plant on the East Coast and thought canning cat food wouldn't cost much when the product sold for just under 75p and thought why wasn't production done in the one plant to drastically reduce overheads? She voted in favour because the chairman said board approval of the recommendation was vital.
She had thought during the brief pre-voting debate of asking was the figure a mistake and had two extra zeros added in error but then thought perhaps it might cost more than $70,000 to relocate to new premises. Reluctantly, she kept her mouth shut.
For the next two months Tiffany learned everything she could about the company.
First, she went to the East Coast and boggled when she saw the plant being closed down covered three acres. Her throat felt restricted and her bra tightened when she realized she was helping to make decisions affecting a business of that magnitude. She rushed to the male toilet, it being the closest, and vomited into a washbowl.
Tiffany explained to the startled head of production that she was suffering delayed air sickness. The guy looked totally unconvinced and probably thought she was on drugs or was pregnant.
By the time Tiffany had fully briefed herself, she believed she knew more about the company than her husband, who was its chief executive, and of course she knew more than the chairman who didn't appear to know anything about the company unless it was written and placed in front of him. She was flabbergasted to find there were people in the company who didn't even know her husband, the CEO.
Tiffany decided the chairman had to go because he knew nothing.
Unfortunately, she didn't know how to initiate that move and her husband rarely had time to talk to her and anyway he preferred her to talk to him about more important things such as new carpet for his study because it was riddled with cigar burns and imbedded ash and it was time to change to a new penthouse because they'd been in their present one for four years and it now looked dated.
She could have spoken to someone else about how to depose a chairman but she really only knew some women who unfortunately were down the lower rungs of the hierarchy.
Then miraculously, the chairman Mr Franks had a heart attack and his wife forced him to resign from his twenty-two boards of which he was chairman of seven.
On one of the occasions Tim was at home and they'd run out of pressing household and social things to discuss, Tiffany handed Tim his usually third after-dinner whisky and said, "Darling can I be made chairman in place of Mr Franks?"
The bastard laughed at her, spilling his whisky and then half-choking in laughter said, "You are so fucking funny you ignoramus but cute bitch."
He recovered his breath and said she must be aware she was on the board for decorative purposes; the male board members liked the look of a pretty woman and her election had quietened the demands of feminist shareholders for female representations.
Tiffany threw her wine over him and went to bed, locking the door.
Tim banged on the door more than an hour later and he went to the guest room muttering when she shouted to him to fuck off, that he was a pig.
Next morning Tiffany called for an appointment with the president of Knox-Chapman Bank. She'd given her name and Sam Fairbanks came on to the phone.
"Hi Tiffany, how are you?"
"Fine thanks Sam. I'm glad you shaved off that moustache."
He sounded as if she wasn't wasting his time.
"You are? Scarcely anyone else has noticed. My wife Jill didn't."
"I notice a lot of things about you Sam."
"You do? Um, what do you wish to see me about?"
"It's confidential until we meet."
Sam now sounded worried.
"Tim is not having prostrate problems, is he?"
"What's that?"
"Oh nothing. Look I'll take you to lunch tomorrow. I love looking across at a pretty woman."
Tiffany knew it had been worthwhile shortening her bra straps of an old bra now too small for comfort. She was also in a tight dress with a scooped neckline. Poor Sam; she could see he was only a little short of ejaculating looking at her breasts. Well even her own mother said they were her best feature.
As the wine waiter walked away Tim proposed a toast, "To beautiful women."
"Yes indeed," she said, sipping.
Sam smiled, "I really meant you."
"Oh? I thought you would have toasted to beautiful breasts."
Sam spluttered.
"Use your napkin Sam."
He obeyed.
"Why did you say that?"
"Because your wine blew back on to your face."
"No, I mean comment about your breasts."
"Putting it delicately, I have noticed you can't keep your eyes off them. Are you a tit-man Sam?"
He squirmed and whispered yes.
"Oh, I am so glad. Sam, I want to become the new chairman of our company."
"What!" Sam said, this time knocking his half-full wine glass across the table and sending his chilled shrimps with mint and lime juice-flavoured mayonnaise to the floor, shattering the glass dish.
They were moved to another table.
"Oh god, I'm sorry I embarrassed you Tiffany."
"Thanks Sam; you are such a gentleman. Prepare for the next shock Sam. Do I have to take you to bed to get the bank to support my run for chairman?"
"Um err um."
"Meaning?"
Sam ran his finger insider his shirt collar.
In the hotel suite Sam had hired for three hours, Tiffany undid Sam's tie with slightly shaking fingers, thinking Sam probably did this with women almost every day whereas for her this was a first act of taking a cocking outside of marriage, or whatever it was called.
"Keep relaxed," he chuckled. "Reach down and hold it; that will relax you."
Wrong. Tiffany's hand was shaking so much she had to let go of it in case the shaking grip made him ejaculate. At least Tim had taught her something about sex. On several occasions he's allowed her to do that to him when he'd said, he felt too tired 'to go the whole hog' but wanted release.
She almost climaxed when she dropped Sam's pants and underpants and saw his penis. It was short and as fat as her wrist with a purple head and the shaft was ugly red. She speculated was his dick stricken with some sort of horrible disease?
