She was a good boss. Manager of the shop where I worked. She was strong, straight and fair. If you had a complaint you could go to her and it would be sorted. If she had something with you, she came to you, told you, and it was forgotten. And even better - she fought for her staff. Strong woman, but as a manager you could not find better. She was also, in her own way, a handsome woman. She was tall, average build, always dressed in smart suits as matched her status. Margaret Bryant had done well for herself, quite rightly, and we all respected her. But there were two things that were odd about her - her husband, and the stories about her parties.........
We met Tony, her husband, at staff parties, or sometimes when he called into the shop. Tony worked in a local bank, and he was a very gentle man. Friendly. Good company. But always gentle. People often laughed about "who wore the trousers in their house", as Tony would collect his wife, or run errands for her, or buy her drinks. But he was someone I liked immensely.
Her parties were only rumours. Rumours circulated about the parties at their house - parties where a whole group of women got together on a Saturday to celebrate............. No-one had ever been, but somehow the rumours were there. Of course, the rumours grew in their telling, rumours of Lesbianism, nudism, but we all new these rumours were just male fantasies. And of course there were the comments by the men who wanted to be there, boasting what they might want to do, could do, would do...............
For me, I stayed friends with Tony, respected Margaret as a boss, admired her as an attractive woman, but generally kept out of the office gossip and speculation, got on with work, kept my social life and girlfriends well away from work. It was a good job, a job I wanted to keep, with a good boss - and there was no more to it than that. Until the E.mail.
It appeared on my computer from someone else in the office, someone who fancied himself as a new Charles Dickens. Only the things he wrote were not the sort of things Charles Dickens would have written. A long graphic description of a party, a party that had taken place at Margaret's house. Probably the best description was a cross between a wife-swapping party and a gang-bang. It was pretty crude porn. I read it, put it in my "trash" folder. Unfortunately someone had been working on my computer and set the "forward all mail" setting - it meant than any E.mail that came to me was sent on to everyone else in my address book. Most of the recipients were other people in the office. One of those recipients was Margaret.
I only learnt about this after I had been summoned to her office, with demands that I explain myself. Why had I sent her pornography about her? It was made clear that this was a sacking offence. Instant dismissal. I tried to make sense of what had happened. I had seen the E.mail. I hadn't even read it through. I had deleted it. How had it got to my boss from my computer. I tried to explain. I begged her to let me stay. I really wanted this job. For an hour I pleaded for my job.
At last Margaret relented. Yes I could keep my job. But I could only keep the job if I actually went to one of the parties at her house, this coming Saturday, and act as a waiter. I should turn up at 6.00pm. Tony would fill me in, then I would have to fulfil all my duties for the evening. I eagerly agreed - I wanted the job, and if keeping my job included a bit of waitering, then I could live with that.
At five to six on the Saturday I rang the doorbell, Tony greeted me, we shook hands, he invited me in. For some reason he looked a bit nervous as well as he led me through to the kitchen. There was already a buffet laid out in the dining room, drinks on a table.
Tony made me a coffee, and started to chat. He told me that Margaret always had about a dozen friends around. That it was our job to serve the food and drinks. I asked him if I was dressed okay - he said don't worry, Margaret will sort that out in a bit. He explained that they were a club, that they had this social evening most months. Then mentioned the oddest thing: "At the end of the evening, perhaps half an hour before they go they always have a bit of fun, at my expense. " He spoke hesitatingly.
"What sort of thing," I asked, but Tony waived his hand.
"Whatever they want, we have to do." He said no more, directly, on the subject, so I asked him if they had been holding the parties for so long, why was he nervous this evening.
"Nervous, well it's a bit different......." he again spoke hesitatingly.
"In what way?"
"First time there has ever been two of us."
"Two of us?" I repeated like a parrott.
"Yes, two men to help........." his voice faded away as he looked at the clock. He changed the subject. "Margaret will be here in a moment to give us our final instructions."
We finished our coffees as we waited, before Margaret entered, dressed smartly in a pair of dark red trousers and black top. "She would look stunning in anything" my mind shouted out.
"Ben, Tony," - she spoke strongly to us. "Three things"
