British English spelling and grammar.
***
Lock-in
Vicky came home excited.
"I've got some great news!"
I was watching tv when she threw herself onto me, nearly knocked me off the chair. I grabbed hold of her, copping a quick feel.
"Go away, I'm not interested." I said.
"What?"
She jumped to her feet.
"Only joking, Vick. God, you should see your face!"
"Right you bastard. I won't tell you!"
She flounced off to the kitchen. I grinned. She'd tell me soon enough. I followed her; the shepherd's pie I'd prepared earlier was ready and I opened the oven. We sat at the breakfast bar and I dished it up.
"Heartlands are running an important project," she announced, "and I've been seconded onto it!"
"Tell me everything."
"Leading it; is Stewart McGregor. I'm on the team, but as a designer, not a PA! There's another manager from Design department, Ted Eagles, and his PA will act as project secretary. I'm really one of the team!"
"Wow! Good for you. Who else is involved?"
Not that I'd know any of them.
"Martin from Design, and someone called Simon. He's an external consultant. We have our first project briefing on Thursday next week; I may be a little late home. Then Stewart's having a party at his house on Saturday. All the members of the project can meet socially. Spouses and significant others are invited. I know you're not keen on parties, but you'll come, won't you?"
"Rightio then!" I replied, with an exaggerated Somerset accent. Well I am from Taunton.
"I knew you'd say that!"
She did. Vicky's observational skills were nearly as good as mine. Long ago she remarked I always say "Rightio then!" when cornered into agreeing. I've never mentioned it, but she has her own little sayings too, especially if I'm in the mood for loving. She smiles, holds eye contact, and murmurs: 'Well, we'll have to do something about that, won't we?' And when we finish, she says 'That was nice!'
Not always of course. Sometimes the sex is simply too wild. We do roleplay; well everything really. The only thing we have not done is involve other people. We've discussed it, but neither of us like the idea as our current sex life is so fulfilling. I understand why many guys get off watching their wives with another man, but I'm damn sure it would not give me an erection.
Party Saturday arrived and we got ready. It's interesting the different reactions to 'casual' when suggested as a dress code. Men, who spend their working days in a suit, tend to dress down, polo shirts and so on. But women move away from office wear and dress up - LBDs, heels, and stockings - anything short of long evening gowns. Vicky came down in a short pleated dress.
"Stockings?"
She knows they turn me on, and never wears them to work; only when we socialise. I'm the only one who knows what's under her dress; others only get the occasional glimpse. She spun like a dancer, and the dress flared out; black hold-ups with lacy tops, and a tiny matching thong.
She looked down at my jeans. "You're not wearing those are you?"
"They're clean. We were told casual."
"At least put your cargo trousers on baby. You look sexier in them."
"Ok, but you realise the jeans cost more than the cargos."
"Pretty please? You can have your way with me later!"
I took the stairs two at a time.
The party was going well. We'd gone by taxi, so we could drink. I think everybody had the same idea, as they were all hitting the booze. I had to meet them of course, and a made an effort to remember which one was McGregor; I'm not great with names. I liked him well enough; a bit pretentious.
I particularly liked Marion, Ted Eagles' secretary. Her husband came from Devon, next door to Somerset, and confessed he preferred cider to beer; instant best friends. We were all in a large room and a few people were dancing. Vicky stood next to Stewart and started chatting animatedly. Amanda McGregor, our hostess, came and stood next to me.
"They look comfortable together don't they Colin?"
I liked the fact that she remembered my name, but thought her comment sounded a little sinister.
"Sure. They do say a boss / PA relationship is like a marriage, without the sex."
"They do indeed. Do you trust her?"
I thought about it.
"Well. I did up to the moment you said that. Do you trust Stewart?"
Inevitably, I kept a weather eye on them while she answered me. It turned out that in the past Stewart had strayed. And like many before him, had been caught. Amanda was the wealthy one and, after his last affair, had enforced a contract; a post-nuptial. If he played away from home again, he would be out on his ear. This big house, their holiday villa in Cala D'Or, even his car, would revert to her. Also she was a major shareholder at Heartlands. Stewart would be out of a job.
"He knows it's the end of the line next time." she said. "So, either he'll remain faithful as per our agreement, or he'll have an affair but be careful about it."
"Do you think it's the latter?"
"I honestly don't know. But it won't hurt to be vigilant; Vicky is certainly his type."
I studied my wife - short, slim, dark hair in a feathered bob, almost elfin like. Amanda was taller and blonde, probably from Scandinavian stock.
"Excuse me for stating the obvious, but she looks nothing like you."
"Quite."
"Oh, I get it."
"Take my mobile phone number, just in case."
I scrutinised Vicky and her boss. If Amanda had not aired her concerns, I wouldn't have bothered. But now I was on high alert, and did not like the way I was feeling. Still, forewarned is forearmed, so I watched. In the unlikely event of a more sexual relationship, I'd soon spot the signs.
Stewart McGregor had his back half-turned, and Vicky was facing me. At that moment, my brain had to deal with two things at once, and men aren't good at that. Amanda spoke to me, and Vicky spoke to Stewart at the same time.
Amanda said: "Listen for the warning bells. If he ever tells her she may be up for a promotion, that's the way it begins."
I'm not really a lip-reader, so whatever Vicky said was a mystery. But I did get my first niggle of concern; something about her smile? Maybe it was the eye contact, maybe nothing. Amanda spoke again.
"Well, I've told you what I would do if Stewart crosses the line again, what would you do with Vicky?"
"I've never really thought about it. Mt first reaction would be revenge I suppose, and humiliation."
"Understandable."
Vicky came and joined us.
"What a wonderful party, Amanda. You have a beautiful home."
"Thank you Vicky."
That was it really. The party wound down and we got a taxi home. Unfortunately my seminal suspicions came home with us. That night I was rather rough on her, as if punishing her for something she hadn't done. She didn't seem to mind. When I'd finished, I wiped my dick on her buttocks. We were too tired to shower, so slept like that all night. She only spoke once before sleep.
"Dirty bastard!" she said.
"It's your fault. You know what stockings do to me."
Have you ever had one of those sudden awakenings just as you're dropping off? Like a silent explosion? I did. My eyes shot open and I jolted hard. I stared up into the darkness, and replayed that scene of her and Stewart talking. Like a silent movie clip in slow motion.
She's touching his arm, smiling, and speaks that one line which I cannot hear. At the beginning of the sentence, her lips make an 'oo' shape twice. In the middle she closes her mouth twice. At the end, she makes two more 'oo's. So the sequence is 'w, w, m, b, w, w.' I know exactly what she said.
"Well, we'll have to do something about that, won't we?"
Not enough to present at a divorce hearing. But enough to tip me over into full-on suspicion. She could have been referring to anything. But for me, the context was clear. She was going to have sex with him.
Next day, Vicky was a little hung over, and didn't want to eat. She curled up on the sofa with a pot of coffee and the Sunday papers. I said I'd grab a pub lunch and went out of my way to visit the particular pub I had in mind.
"Colin, mate, let me buy you a pint. Are you still on the Dry Blackthorn?"
"Thanks Gordon. Just the one though."
"So what are you doing in this neck of the woods?"
"I heard this place does a great Sunday roast. So I'm here to buy you lunch."
"No way - you're on my patch now, and I still owe you."
"No, let me buy this time. I need a favour."
A decade ago, Gordon had nailed contracts at the company I was then working for. As contracts manager, I had to oversee his work. He had several different crews on our huge premises relocation. There was nothing underhand, his crews were top notch, and he won all the bids fair and square.
But a few weeks later, he had come to me with a problem. It was near the end of the tax year and one of his staff had accidentally destroyed the work orders I'd issued. We had to sign them off, stamped as' Completed', before accounts paid his invoices. They were the biggest jobs he'd ever done, and he was facing bankruptcy if he didn't get paid.
I'd spent a long weekend recreating those work orders. I had to chop and change with different requisition pads, and make sure the serial numbers fitted chronologically. What I did was somewhat illegal, but I was only recreating something that had already been done legitimately.
We got away with it and Gordon's fledgling companies got paid. He remained convinced he would have gone under without my help and felt he still owed me. That was years ago, and today he runs several successful service firms. Most of them are contracted to Vicky's company. Ironically, he is now richer than me.
"I know you continue to think you owe me mate, so let's call this a chance to pay me back, once and for all."
I told him what I had in mind, and how discreet it would have to be. He was immediately enthusiastic.
"I have pretty much every service contract at Heartlands, all under different names, but all won fair and square. I've always ensured everything is above board as you know. I now run their maintenance, security, and office cleaning. If I could rustle up some decent cooks, I'd do their catering too!"
"What I'm asking for starts really low-key; an observation exercise really." I said. "It could go on for months, and may be nothing at all. In fact, I hope that's the case."
"I understand."
"But if it pans out badly, I might want to get involved in the action myself."
"Let's deal with that if it arises."
