The E Mail 2

No more than a hint of any sex in this story, so please chose whether to read it or not.

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I still wonder who sent that e-mail?

It wasn't that I hadn't noticed the change in my wife over the last month or so, because I had. Jan seemed moody and less communicative than was normal, all of which I put down to her new job following her promotion. I'd tried to talk about it, but she brushed me off, and to be honest I had my own pressures on me at the time, having just signed a new contract, which was, I hoped, going to lead to a big leap in my own chosen career.

Then that e-mail arrived!

The e-mail that told me more or less what the problem was. Not only what the problem was, but exactly who the man causing the problem was.

It needed nipping in the bud.

I hoped it wasn't too late.

At least it was now clear why Jan didn't want to talk to me about it.

His name was Norman Holder and he was a senior manager at the company that Jan worked for. It didn't take me long to discover that he was indeed the manager that Jan now reported to.

Good looking bugger, if, unlike me, you happen to be into men that is, and at six foot whatever, towered over my petite wife, and me also for that matter. Ok, so I'm by no means the biggest guy in the world, but that doesn't make me a softy.

The mail warned me off confronting Jan with the evidence that I'd been presented with, and that took some accepting, as 'the line' had been undoubtedly well and truly stepped over.

Jan had a company social event coming up for the management team, and I'd already made sounds that I couldn't really take the time off to go with her. Well that was then and this was now as it were, and I was going. I'd keep my eyes open to see if what was going on between Holder and my wife was true or not.

If there was, then blood might well flow. Yes I meant that.

I wonder who the hell sent that damn e-mail.

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"I've decided to go to your company dance tomorrow," I announced, out of the blue.

"You don't have to Tom," Jan replied, just a little too fast for my liking. "You've got other things on your mind at the moment."

"Nothing more important than my wife," I insisted.

"It's not really a dance Tom," she reminded me. "You'll be bored to tears."

"Spouses are invited?" I asked, knowing the answer.

"You know they are," Jan was forced to admit.

"And most of them are going?"

"I guess so," she was forced to admit. "But they're really not your sort of people."

"You're ashamed of me Jan?"

"God of course I'm not Tom," she responded, almost with tears in her eyes.

"Then I'm going Jan."

End of discussion.

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Ok so I didn't maybe have the background or education that most of the men that would be there that evening, but I did scrub up reasonably well.

I even owned a suit!

I owned more than one as it happened, and good ones at that. Not that I wore one to work of course. I work with my hands, and that would hardly be appropriate. I'd been away working getting dirty and sweaty, and had taken a couple of days off for this very purpose. My manager wasn't at all happy with me, but when I explained what was happening he eventually relented. Not before he offered to get things 'sorted' for me, and not without dire warnings from him not to do anything silly.

As if I would!

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So there we were, Jan and I, all dolled up. Me looking a hell of a lot smarter than I normally do, and Jan looking ... Well absolutely bloody gorgeous. She may only be five foot or so, but it's five foot of shear quality. She still regularly attended the gym that we'd first met in seven or eight years previously, and the shape she was in was a result of how fit she kept herself.

The little black number that Jan wore didn't do a lot to hide it either, and those cute high heels almost bought her up to my height.

It didn't take long to figure out who this Holder guy was, and I wonder if I was the only one who noticed quite how careful Jan was to avoid being on her own with him. Maybe not, and If I hadn't received that e-mail then probably I wouldn't have done so either.

I did wonder if it would have been the same if I hadn't been there. I made a point of not crowding Jan, and stood back in the shadows somewhat while she circulated, meeting and greeting or whatever it was they did at these things. I did begin to wonder whether she'd forgotten that I was even there.

I was just beginning to wonder whether I was wasting my time, when suddenly there they were, the two of them, out on the crowded dance floor. He looked as if he was the cat that had got the canary, while Jan at least did look uncomfortable, glancing around, maybe to try and spot me, to see if I was watching them.

I was, and I didn't like what I saw. I certainly didn't like where he was trying to put his hands.

I might not have liked what I saw, but in my position had to be careful what I did about it.

I bided my time!

But then my time came.

"Good evening," I started to introduce myself when I at last caught him on his own. "Norman Holder isn't it?"

"That's right," he replied cautiously, "I'm sorry, you look familiar, but can't place who you are."

"Up from the west country office," I told him, aware that there was one, but little more than that, and grateful that my ploy to not follow Jan around had worked and that he had not connected us.

"Ah!" He beamed, offering me his hand. "You must be Jenkinson, the new head of transitional acquisitions."

"That's right," I agreed, having no idea what he was talking about, and resisting the temptation to squeeze his hand as I took it. "I don't know many people here yet, but I saw you dancing with that lovely blonde girl. Is she your wife?"

"Jan Collins you mean," he grinned knowingly. "Not my wife, but we're getting to know one another."

"It's like that is it, you lucky bugger," I grinned at him, giving him a knowing nudge. "She's gorgeous, and what a body."

"And what a pair of tits she's got on her," he chuckled, winking at me.

"Felt them have you?" I asked, and then held my breath. This was the question I'd been working up to; the confirmation that I'd been searching for.

For a moment I thought he was going to lie, but he obviously thought better of it.

"Not yet," he admitted, audibly sighing to show his frustration. "But I'm working on it. Give me another week and I'll have her leaning over my desk and screaming for it."

"Playing hard to get, is she?" I demanded, forcing myself to smile.

"Just a matter of time. She's new to the job and ambitious and it's me that decides how quickly she progresses."

"Is she married?"

"Yes," Holder answered, sealing his fate. "Her husband is some little squirt with no qualifications or anything. Don't know why she stays with him."

"What does he do for a living then?" I was amused to ask him.

"No idea," he replied. "I understand he hasn't got a full time job even. I suppose he sits around at home taking it easy half the time, and lives off his wife's earnings."

"What was his name again?" I asked, beginning to enjoy myself now that I was sure that my wife had not even scratched our marriage vows, and that this bastard was stalking her against her wishes, more or less as that e-mail had suggested.

"Tom, I think she calls him," he spat out. "Tom Collins I suppose."

"It's Tom Black actually," I informed him. "Collins is her maiden name that she uses for work."

"Why would she do that?" The stupid bugger asked, still not cottoning on to the situation that he'd found himself in.

"Because we agreed that she would," I told him, and waited for realisation to dawn.

"What? You mean ... You're ..." He spluttered in shock.

"Her husband," I confirmed calmly.

"The little squirt," he laughed, making the connection at last. "Come to beg me to give her a good time have you?"

"More a case of giving you a lesson in behaviour," I sighed.

"A little runt like you?" he laughed, sizing up, quite correctly, that he had five or six inches on me, and that he maybe weighed twice as much.

Then I did something really awful. I really wanted to provoke him without it being obvious to anyone near by. So I spat at him.

"You miserable little fucker," he screamed, leaping at me, just as I'd planned. The silly fool had recognised me as Jan's husband, but happily he hadn't thought beyond that.

He took a swing at me and though I rode the punch, I did let him connect and I exaggerated my stagger as I stumbled back. If you doubt that I had the ability to do that, then you should know that my so-called part time job equipped me with that set of skills.

"I'll fucking murder you," he shouted, coming after me swinging his arms wildly.

I guess he thought he was going to knock me into kingdom come, while I was reminding myself not to get carried away and use my fists on him. Happy that anyone watching would see that he'd thrown the first blow, I then set about teaching the lesson I'd promised him.

Dodging his blows was just too easy, and the slap I gave him round the face was hard enough to bring him up short.

"Fight like a woman do you," he grunted and leapt at me again.

Mistake!

Six slaps later, six hard and very fast slaps later, Holder was a slobbering wreck on the floor, with me hardly breathing hard as I stood looking down at him.

"Tom for God's sake, what have you done?" I heard my wife Jan crying out as she pulled me away from him. Not that I intended to hurt him anymore.

"Here endeth the first lesson," I mumbled, rather pleased with myself.

"You didn't have to do that Tom," she berated me. "He was bothering me but I could have dealt with it."

"I dealt with it," I grinned at her. "Why didn't you tell me he was bothering you?"

"I didn't want to worry you Tom. Not now. Not with what you've got coming up this month."

"Well no harm done Jan," I said, examining my knuckles, just to make sure I hadn't damaged them. "Let's get out of here."

"Not so quickly young man," I heard from behind me, and I span round, cursing myself for not checking that he had any friends who might back him up. Oh Shit, I thought. Here goes my promise to my manager not to get too involved.

I'd got it wrong of course.

"Bradley, George Bradley," the rather distinguished looking older man introduced himself, offering his hand to me.

"Tom Black," I responded, taking his hand as it occurred to me that I was talking to General Sir George Bradley, military hero and boss of the firm that Jan worked for.

"I know," he smiled at me, shaking my hand vigorously. "Couldn't believe it was you when you walked in earlier. Now I know why your lovely wife uses her maiden name."

"We're fairly private people," I felt obliged to explain. "We try to avoid too much publicity for the sake of our kids."

"Oh boy how I understand that," he laughed, politely waving away the crowd that had gathered around us. "But that's going to be even harder in a couple of weeks time, isn't it?"

"If I beat him," I agreed.

"Of course you'll beat him," he assured me, grinning widely. "To think we have the wife of a world champion working for us and nobody had any idea."

"I've got to beat him yet," I reminded him.

"You're the best featherweight in the world my boy, and if you doubt it, then you're the only one who does so."

"That's what I keep telling him," whispered Jan, the pride in her voice impossible to miss.

"Quite so young lady," he grinned at her. "Now why don't you get your husband home whilst I go and find out where that idiot has crawled off to?"

"Sorry about him," I felt obliged to say. "I guess this makes Jan's position difficult."

"Not at all," he burst out laughing. "At last I've got a good reason to sack my sister's hopeless nephew without getting it in the neck."

With that I gathered up my wife and made to leave, just thinking of something at the last moment.

"Sir George," I spoke out, wondering if I'd addressed him correctly. "Would you like a ticket for my title fight?"

"Already got some. Ringside seats. Wouldn't miss it for the world," he boomed. "Perhaps when you're world champion you and Jan might honour us with your presence for dinner one night."

"Love to," Jan beat me to it, and hustled me out and back home, where I made the most of it, as I really did have to be back at the training camp the following day.

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Did I win?

Well this is a story so of course I did, and Jan got promoted soon after, and both our kids did really well in life, and ... and ... Oh well, you know the sort of thing.

But there was only one thing that continued to bother me.

Who the hell did send that e-mail?

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Truth is readers, I only ever boxed once in my life, many years ago when I was ten or so.

I took a swing at the guy, Ron was his name, and broke his nose. Trouble was, I broke my thumb doing it.

Rough sport! Never tried it again.

Now rugby ... That was different of course.