Note: I once had the unpleasant experience of working for a boss who openly disliked me but the rest of this is pure fiction.
Part One
“Good news, everyone” announced Gordon at the end of our morning team get-together. This wasn't really a meeting as such, just a quick minute or two gathered round while the boss (and anyone else who needed to) announced anything we needed to know. This happened at nine on the dot so no-one in the office could get away with being late, Gordon would know.
“I've organised a beach themed party for next Friday evening and sold it to the higher-ups as a team building exercise so drinks and snacks will be free all evening. I've booked a room at the cricket club plus use of the changing rooms. The party lasts from six until eleven and just to break the ice we'll all be in beach wear, hence the changing rooms.” He looked at me with his usual sour expression. “And before you ask, Tony, it's not optional. Anyone who's not there had better have a really good reason they can prove. Submit your death certificate or be there. You can stand a bit of socialising.”
Wonderful! I was a junior loan officer, not a lifeguard, now I had to waste an evening on this. Ever since Gordon took over the office he had openly disliked me. I didn't know why but it was rapidly becoming mutual, I was sick of his put-downs. He was right about one thing though, I wouldn't go near his stupid party if I didn't have to, especially as I prefer to keep my clothes on. And I never go to the beach, or swimming either.
“I never go to beaches so I don't have a costume” I said, bluntly but honestly, I really didn't. “Can I buy one on expenses?” I thought it would be great to buy one of those Edwardian-style swimming costumes that cover everything except the lower arms and legs. Preferably an expensive one. And make him pay for it.
“No, sorry Tony” he replied in a tone that made it clear he was pleased not sorry. “They won't spend any more money, it was hard enough to get what I did.” Then he grinned. “I'll tell you what, lets make it a clothing optional beach so trunks or nothing is fine. Get yourself a cossie or give us all a laugh, it's up to you.” Of course he knew full well I'd never go naked, it was just an excuse to make me waste my money. A few people were smiling at the thought of 'Tight-fisted Tony' having this 'choice' to make.
Surprisingly, Matt came to my rescue. “I've got a spare costume he can borrow” he said. “I won't be needing it that night, I've got a new one to wear.” Matt was a bit of a joker and I'd got the impression he was more on Gordon's side than mine so I was instantly suspicious.
Helen voiced my suspicion, but as a joke. She winked at me and said “A nice tight speedo, I hope, so we can see what Tony's got to offer. Preferably one that goes see through when wet, in case someone gets careless with her drink.”
“No, sorry,” Matt replied, “I don't own any speedos, don't like them. I prefer board shorts myself, I've got a few different designs of those. And see through costumes are an urban myth that doesn't exist. Who would buy them? Who would make them and get sued by their customers? I thought you had more sense than that.”
“Well, a girl can dream, can't she?” pouted Helen.
I thought board shorts sounded okay, especially with a tee shirt. People wear tee shirts on beaches don't they? Some of them, anyway. Gordon probably won't like it but he doesn't like anything I do and I'm past caring about it. “Thanks, Matt. That's kind of you” I said.
“No problem” he replied. “I'll bring it along on Friday.” If he did, great. If he didn't, even better, I'd have a legitimate excuse to swerve Gordon's awful party. The mini-meeting ended and we all got to work.
Beach Party
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Britguy
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Re: Beach Party
Part Two
Friday came around all too soon and I walked in to the cricket club dreading the evening, resolved to get maximum value from the free bar, but still hoping Matt would forget his promise and let me off the hook.
When I got to the changing room Matt wasn't there, although he'd been at work. Good, I thought. Perhaps he'd forgotten me and was already in the function room, with a bit of luck. I'd give him until a bit after six, then go home. I opened a locker and changed from my work shirt into my tee just to show willing.
I was alone in the room at five to six when the door crashed open and Matt rushed in, breathless. “Damn, just in time. I almost didn't make it. I was on the phone to Swindon sorting out a transfer that went wrong until gone half past.” He opened a locker, rummaged in a sports bag and pulled out a pair of board shorts. “That's for me.” Then he produced a shapeless bundle of green cloth and tossed it to me. “And that's yours. But you can't wear it with a tee shirt or anything else, you'll look ridiculous.”
Matt ignored me as he removed his shoes and socks, trousers and underwear, his long shirt preserving his modesty as he stepped into his shorts. I shook out the bundle and looked at the flimsy garment aghast. “What the hell is this?”
He pulled his shorts up and started undoing his tie. “It's a mankini. It's the latest trendy thing. You'll be the talk of the office! Pull it up between your legs and put your head between the straps. It'll stretch to fit you. But you'll have to get naked first, obviously.”
“I can't wear this! You said board shorts!”
“No, I didn't. I said I prefer those to speedos and I don't own any speedos. I didn't say what else I own or what I'd lend you. If you don't like it you've got three choices but I don't have to lend you anything so watch your mouth or you'll have two choices.”
“Three choices?” I asked.
“You can wear the costume. Or go with the clothing-optional option. Or go home and give Gordon an excuse to get you fired. He'd like one, that's obvious. Maybe next time you'll provide for yourself.”
Matt had obviously made the offer in the first place precisely in order to put me in this position. Earlier I could have bought something. Now there was no time, and anyway the shops were closed. No way was I “go[ing] with the clothing-optional option” under any circumstances. Could Gordon really fire me for cutting his party? I wasn't sure but no doubt he would if he could so best not to risk it, and any sort of disciplinary record wouldn't help my promotion prospects. That just left the (marginally) less embarrassing “choice” of the mankini.
“Okay, you win. I'll wear the bloody thing if it makes you happy” I said grumpily, none too pleased at being set up.
“Not with that attitude you won't” said Matt, pretending to be annoyed. “You can wear it gratefully if it makes you happy. So thank me properly or give it back.”
Giving it back wasn't an option. “Yeah, sorry. Thanks Matt” I forced myself to say.
He finished taking his shirt off and shut his stuff in the locker, then stood there watching me. “Well, what are you waiting for? Take your clothes off and I'll show you how it works.”
Did he seriously expect me to strip naked in front of him while he stood there watching? Yes, clearly he did, and I couldn't afford to antagonise him. I turned my back, expecting him to object but he didn't. I took off my clothes and put them in the locker, then stepped into the mankini, pulled it up and put my head between the straps. I adjusted it as best I could and then turned around.
Matt looked me over and burst out laughing. I realised he was staring straight at my groin. “Oh boy, I can see why you didn't want to go naked! So will everyone else, those things don't leave much to the imagination!”
“What do you mean by that?” I was embarrassed and offended.
“Well, you're not exactly King Dong are you? And that thing's tight and stretchy enough to prove it. Seriously mate, I'd stuff me socks in there if I was you, if you don't want the vowel in your name changed to 'i' on Monday.”
Changed to 'i'? Oh, yeah, Tony to tiny, very funny. Not. I looked down. Damn, he was right. I'd always known I wasn't overly well endowed but the tight, clingy, stretchy material not only clung to my 'package' revealingly but also seemed to constrict it and make it look smaller. The anxiety and embarrassment I was feeling weren't helping either.
I really didn't want to spend the evening dressed like this. I could just imagine the comments, and Gordon's disdain. Even a speedo would have been better than this. The only silver lining was that Gordon had absolutely banned all types of cameras and phones from the party “so we can relax and socialise with each other” and I hoped he'd make it stick. I decided to take Matt's advice. I turned my back again, got my socks back out of the locker, put my 'bits' into one and left the other below them inside the mankini. I looked down to check nothing was sticking out to give me away and it did look better.
“That looks better” said Matt as I turned around. “Now let's go, it's a minute after six already. We don't want to upset the boss.”
Friday came around all too soon and I walked in to the cricket club dreading the evening, resolved to get maximum value from the free bar, but still hoping Matt would forget his promise and let me off the hook.
When I got to the changing room Matt wasn't there, although he'd been at work. Good, I thought. Perhaps he'd forgotten me and was already in the function room, with a bit of luck. I'd give him until a bit after six, then go home. I opened a locker and changed from my work shirt into my tee just to show willing.
I was alone in the room at five to six when the door crashed open and Matt rushed in, breathless. “Damn, just in time. I almost didn't make it. I was on the phone to Swindon sorting out a transfer that went wrong until gone half past.” He opened a locker, rummaged in a sports bag and pulled out a pair of board shorts. “That's for me.” Then he produced a shapeless bundle of green cloth and tossed it to me. “And that's yours. But you can't wear it with a tee shirt or anything else, you'll look ridiculous.”
Matt ignored me as he removed his shoes and socks, trousers and underwear, his long shirt preserving his modesty as he stepped into his shorts. I shook out the bundle and looked at the flimsy garment aghast. “What the hell is this?”
He pulled his shorts up and started undoing his tie. “It's a mankini. It's the latest trendy thing. You'll be the talk of the office! Pull it up between your legs and put your head between the straps. It'll stretch to fit you. But you'll have to get naked first, obviously.”
“I can't wear this! You said board shorts!”
“No, I didn't. I said I prefer those to speedos and I don't own any speedos. I didn't say what else I own or what I'd lend you. If you don't like it you've got three choices but I don't have to lend you anything so watch your mouth or you'll have two choices.”
“Three choices?” I asked.
“You can wear the costume. Or go with the clothing-optional option. Or go home and give Gordon an excuse to get you fired. He'd like one, that's obvious. Maybe next time you'll provide for yourself.”
Matt had obviously made the offer in the first place precisely in order to put me in this position. Earlier I could have bought something. Now there was no time, and anyway the shops were closed. No way was I “go[ing] with the clothing-optional option” under any circumstances. Could Gordon really fire me for cutting his party? I wasn't sure but no doubt he would if he could so best not to risk it, and any sort of disciplinary record wouldn't help my promotion prospects. That just left the (marginally) less embarrassing “choice” of the mankini.
“Okay, you win. I'll wear the bloody thing if it makes you happy” I said grumpily, none too pleased at being set up.
“Not with that attitude you won't” said Matt, pretending to be annoyed. “You can wear it gratefully if it makes you happy. So thank me properly or give it back.”
Giving it back wasn't an option. “Yeah, sorry. Thanks Matt” I forced myself to say.
He finished taking his shirt off and shut his stuff in the locker, then stood there watching me. “Well, what are you waiting for? Take your clothes off and I'll show you how it works.”
Did he seriously expect me to strip naked in front of him while he stood there watching? Yes, clearly he did, and I couldn't afford to antagonise him. I turned my back, expecting him to object but he didn't. I took off my clothes and put them in the locker, then stepped into the mankini, pulled it up and put my head between the straps. I adjusted it as best I could and then turned around.
Matt looked me over and burst out laughing. I realised he was staring straight at my groin. “Oh boy, I can see why you didn't want to go naked! So will everyone else, those things don't leave much to the imagination!”
“What do you mean by that?” I was embarrassed and offended.
“Well, you're not exactly King Dong are you? And that thing's tight and stretchy enough to prove it. Seriously mate, I'd stuff me socks in there if I was you, if you don't want the vowel in your name changed to 'i' on Monday.”
Changed to 'i'? Oh, yeah, Tony to tiny, very funny. Not. I looked down. Damn, he was right. I'd always known I wasn't overly well endowed but the tight, clingy, stretchy material not only clung to my 'package' revealingly but also seemed to constrict it and make it look smaller. The anxiety and embarrassment I was feeling weren't helping either.
I really didn't want to spend the evening dressed like this. I could just imagine the comments, and Gordon's disdain. Even a speedo would have been better than this. The only silver lining was that Gordon had absolutely banned all types of cameras and phones from the party “so we can relax and socialise with each other” and I hoped he'd make it stick. I decided to take Matt's advice. I turned my back again, got my socks back out of the locker, put my 'bits' into one and left the other below them inside the mankini. I looked down to check nothing was sticking out to give me away and it did look better.
“That looks better” said Matt as I turned around. “Now let's go, it's a minute after six already. We don't want to upset the boss.”
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Britguy
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Re: Beach Party
Part Three
The party was much as I'd expected. The extroverts monopolised the dance floor or crowded round the bar. The quieter, more introverted people that I got on well with were sat at tables talking quietly, looking like they didn't want to be there, certainly not dressed like that. They made room for me at a table and tried to ignore my ridiculous costume. We wondered how early we could get away with leaving. Alan and Sue's last bus left at 9:17 (“No, of course we couldn't bring the car, Gordon. We're drinking!” Clever.) so they needed to leave by five past and we thought once they did we could follow.
My resolve to get maximum value from the free bar ended because firstly, anxious as I was, I didn't want to risk losing control. And secondly, peeing in a shared urinal carried major risk of embarrassment so pints of beer were out. I settled for a glass of (pretty indifferent) red wine and nursed it.
The extroverts were not so abstemious and were making the most of the freebies. And getting louder and raucous as a result.
About 8:45 I decided since I was leaving soon I could risk another drink. Big mistake, but I think what happened was going to happen anyway one way or another. As I stood at the bar Gordon and his acolytes surrounded me. I felt a slap on the bare skin of my buttocks. “Nice bum!” said Helen. “Brave of you to show it off!”
“Hello Tony” leered Gordon, who seemed to have had his share of the free booze. “That's not quite what I expected. I half expected you to get cold feet.”
Matt grinned. “Well, at least he brought his socks in case he does.” I was shocked at his indiscretion but no-one else understood it. Yet.
“What socks? Where?” asked Linda. Matt whispered in her ear. “No” she gasped. “I don't believe it.”
Matt grabbed my arm and spun me around so I stood with my back to the bar. Pete grabbed my other arm. “Check for yourself” invited Matt. Why had I ever been stupid enough to trust him? He must have planned this from the start, with or without Gordon's approval. Probably with, but there's no way to prove that.
Linda nervously reached for my crotch. She wasn't that drunk, although everyone in this group seemed pretty well oiled, but she didn't want to look 'chicken' either. She snuck a couple of fingers inside the costume and pulled the socks out and waved them in the air provoking much laughter. “I didn't think anyone did that for real. Way to disappoint a girl when you get her home!”
Helen put her fingers inside the costume at stomach level and started rubbing the material between her fingers and thumb. “I like this, nice and soft.” She pulled it out a couple of inches. “And stretchy too.” Then without warning she pulled it out further, and several inches to her left (my right) and moved her hand down and back in until she was touching the top of my right thigh. She let go and the material tightened up again, trapping itself in the gap between my scrotum and my inner thigh. All in a fraction of a second.
“Now that is disappointing” said Linda, pointing and laughing. “Hey everyone, check this out, it's Mushroom Man!” If anyone in the group by the bar had not been looking before they were now. All were laughing, several pointing. Perhaps I'm a bit slow but it took me a second or two before I looked down and realised what had happened. My private parts were now hanging out of the side of my costume in full view of my hostile boss and multiple colleagues of both sexes. No wonder they were laughing.
I yanked my arm free from Pete's grip while he was too busy laughing to expect it or stop me. I rapidly sorted my costume to restore decency. I tried to yank the other arm out of Matt's grip but he was too strong. “Let me go” I demanded and he did but the semi-circle of people surrounding me weren't moving and I was trapped by the bar.
“Your wine, sir” said the bartender. He said it perfectly politely but somehow I could hear the implied 'h' in his voice. I swallowed half of it straight off. Perhaps if I drank the muck fast enough it might not take the enamel off my teeth!
“I like that costume Matt” called Melanie. “Sell it to me!”
“No, sell it to me” shouted Andrea.
“I want it for my boyfriend” demanded Helen.
“Me, me me!” chorused various people, not all of them female! After seeing what just happened to me it would take a brave man to want this thing.
“Hey, I've got an idea” said Matt, grinning. “There's a collecting tin on the bar for Cancer Research. Let's have a charity auction. Winning bidder gets to take the mankini and keep it. I don't want money for it.”
“You can't do that!” I exclaimed, horrified.
Gordon was pretty drunk and obviously loving this. “Well it's Matt's property,” he said, “so he can ask for it back if he wants to. I think it's very generous to give it away when he could sell it. And we said tonight was clothing optional so if you've opted not to clothe yourself that's your choice isn't it? Go ahead Matt.”
“Okay then, let's get this party started!” Matt was smiling with delight. “Dig deep girls winning bid gets to take it off the model! Who'll start me at a fiver?”
Well at least it was a good night for the cancer people! After a minute of spirited bidding Helen won with a £20 bid. No-one was willing to pay more than that. Perhaps Helen really did want it for her boyfriend, but no-one else wanted the damn costume, they just wanted to see me lose it.
Pete and Matt held me as a smiling Helen pulled the straps off my shoulders and over my arms and then took the costume down and off. And then I was naked, with a good-looking young woman kneeling in front of me, affording me a great view of her cleavage down her bikini top, and several scantily clad others looking on.
What idea does being naked with a woman kneeling in front of you bring to your mind? Yeah, mine too, except it bypassed my mind and went directly to my libido with disastrous results. “I think he likes you, Helen” laughed Matt, watching me stiffen. There was much laughter and cat-calling as I proved that I wasn't much of a 'grower' either.
“Disgraceful!” slurred Gordon. “Even clothing-optional beaches have standards. If you can't control yourself you'll have to leave.”
I didn't need to be told twice! Perhaps the drunken old sod had forgotten that I never wanted to be there in the first place. I tore myself away from Matt and Pete and made a beeline for the changing room.
Of course, I don't work in that office any more.
The party was much as I'd expected. The extroverts monopolised the dance floor or crowded round the bar. The quieter, more introverted people that I got on well with were sat at tables talking quietly, looking like they didn't want to be there, certainly not dressed like that. They made room for me at a table and tried to ignore my ridiculous costume. We wondered how early we could get away with leaving. Alan and Sue's last bus left at 9:17 (“No, of course we couldn't bring the car, Gordon. We're drinking!” Clever.) so they needed to leave by five past and we thought once they did we could follow.
My resolve to get maximum value from the free bar ended because firstly, anxious as I was, I didn't want to risk losing control. And secondly, peeing in a shared urinal carried major risk of embarrassment so pints of beer were out. I settled for a glass of (pretty indifferent) red wine and nursed it.
The extroverts were not so abstemious and were making the most of the freebies. And getting louder and raucous as a result.
About 8:45 I decided since I was leaving soon I could risk another drink. Big mistake, but I think what happened was going to happen anyway one way or another. As I stood at the bar Gordon and his acolytes surrounded me. I felt a slap on the bare skin of my buttocks. “Nice bum!” said Helen. “Brave of you to show it off!”
“Hello Tony” leered Gordon, who seemed to have had his share of the free booze. “That's not quite what I expected. I half expected you to get cold feet.”
Matt grinned. “Well, at least he brought his socks in case he does.” I was shocked at his indiscretion but no-one else understood it. Yet.
“What socks? Where?” asked Linda. Matt whispered in her ear. “No” she gasped. “I don't believe it.”
Matt grabbed my arm and spun me around so I stood with my back to the bar. Pete grabbed my other arm. “Check for yourself” invited Matt. Why had I ever been stupid enough to trust him? He must have planned this from the start, with or without Gordon's approval. Probably with, but there's no way to prove that.
Linda nervously reached for my crotch. She wasn't that drunk, although everyone in this group seemed pretty well oiled, but she didn't want to look 'chicken' either. She snuck a couple of fingers inside the costume and pulled the socks out and waved them in the air provoking much laughter. “I didn't think anyone did that for real. Way to disappoint a girl when you get her home!”
Helen put her fingers inside the costume at stomach level and started rubbing the material between her fingers and thumb. “I like this, nice and soft.” She pulled it out a couple of inches. “And stretchy too.” Then without warning she pulled it out further, and several inches to her left (my right) and moved her hand down and back in until she was touching the top of my right thigh. She let go and the material tightened up again, trapping itself in the gap between my scrotum and my inner thigh. All in a fraction of a second.
“Now that is disappointing” said Linda, pointing and laughing. “Hey everyone, check this out, it's Mushroom Man!” If anyone in the group by the bar had not been looking before they were now. All were laughing, several pointing. Perhaps I'm a bit slow but it took me a second or two before I looked down and realised what had happened. My private parts were now hanging out of the side of my costume in full view of my hostile boss and multiple colleagues of both sexes. No wonder they were laughing.
I yanked my arm free from Pete's grip while he was too busy laughing to expect it or stop me. I rapidly sorted my costume to restore decency. I tried to yank the other arm out of Matt's grip but he was too strong. “Let me go” I demanded and he did but the semi-circle of people surrounding me weren't moving and I was trapped by the bar.
“Your wine, sir” said the bartender. He said it perfectly politely but somehow I could hear the implied 'h' in his voice. I swallowed half of it straight off. Perhaps if I drank the muck fast enough it might not take the enamel off my teeth!
“I like that costume Matt” called Melanie. “Sell it to me!”
“No, sell it to me” shouted Andrea.
“I want it for my boyfriend” demanded Helen.
“Me, me me!” chorused various people, not all of them female! After seeing what just happened to me it would take a brave man to want this thing.
“Hey, I've got an idea” said Matt, grinning. “There's a collecting tin on the bar for Cancer Research. Let's have a charity auction. Winning bidder gets to take the mankini and keep it. I don't want money for it.”
“You can't do that!” I exclaimed, horrified.
Gordon was pretty drunk and obviously loving this. “Well it's Matt's property,” he said, “so he can ask for it back if he wants to. I think it's very generous to give it away when he could sell it. And we said tonight was clothing optional so if you've opted not to clothe yourself that's your choice isn't it? Go ahead Matt.”
“Okay then, let's get this party started!” Matt was smiling with delight. “Dig deep girls winning bid gets to take it off the model! Who'll start me at a fiver?”
Well at least it was a good night for the cancer people! After a minute of spirited bidding Helen won with a £20 bid. No-one was willing to pay more than that. Perhaps Helen really did want it for her boyfriend, but no-one else wanted the damn costume, they just wanted to see me lose it.
Pete and Matt held me as a smiling Helen pulled the straps off my shoulders and over my arms and then took the costume down and off. And then I was naked, with a good-looking young woman kneeling in front of me, affording me a great view of her cleavage down her bikini top, and several scantily clad others looking on.
What idea does being naked with a woman kneeling in front of you bring to your mind? Yeah, mine too, except it bypassed my mind and went directly to my libido with disastrous results. “I think he likes you, Helen” laughed Matt, watching me stiffen. There was much laughter and cat-calling as I proved that I wasn't much of a 'grower' either.
“Disgraceful!” slurred Gordon. “Even clothing-optional beaches have standards. If you can't control yourself you'll have to leave.”
I didn't need to be told twice! Perhaps the drunken old sod had forgotten that I never wanted to be there in the first place. I tore myself away from Matt and Pete and made a beeline for the changing room.
Of course, I don't work in that office any more.
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Britguy
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Re: Beach Party
Aftermath
What? You think I was too ashamed of my puny body to face my colleagues so I just snuck away? No, no, no, not at all. In that area you get what you're given, there's no reason for pride or shame.
“Gordon, I have a problem” I said, walking into his office on Monday. None of my colleagues had even mentioned Friday's party in my presence, too embarrassed probably now they were sober.
“So I noticed” he smirked. “But I don't think I can help with it.”
“My problem is I was sexually assaulted at a work function and my boss watched it and did nothing. Encouraged them, if anything. So I need to instruct lawyers to bring a case. But if I'm being moved to the new Taunton branch I'll be too busy moving house and I won't have time.”
“You're not being moved” said Gordon. Some people really can't take a hint. “It's a small branch, they won't have juniors there.”
“I know, but I've been in this job over six months so I'm eligible for promotion and you don't seem to want me so I wondered....” I trailed off wondering if he can really be this stupid. “Oh well, more time to deal with my case then I suppose.”
Finally the penny dropped. “You blackmailing bastard! I didn't think you had the balls! In fact I know you haven't, I've seen for myself remember. You wouldn't do that!”
“I would and I will! I don't owe you any loyalty. And plenty of witnesses remember too, you won't silence them all. Criminal records for everyone who touched me I reckon, and I don't think the bank will thank you for getting them that sort of trouble and publicity. Let me know by the end of the day.”
It seems Gordon could pull strings because I had a mutually agreed 'illness' for the rest of the week and started in Taunton the next Monday.
My new colleagues are a nice friendly bunch, and none of them know how I got promoted so fast. They think it must be merit and I'm doing my best to prove them right. I wouldn't want them to know the truth, after all.
The End
What? You think I was too ashamed of my puny body to face my colleagues so I just snuck away? No, no, no, not at all. In that area you get what you're given, there's no reason for pride or shame.
“Gordon, I have a problem” I said, walking into his office on Monday. None of my colleagues had even mentioned Friday's party in my presence, too embarrassed probably now they were sober.
“So I noticed” he smirked. “But I don't think I can help with it.”
“My problem is I was sexually assaulted at a work function and my boss watched it and did nothing. Encouraged them, if anything. So I need to instruct lawyers to bring a case. But if I'm being moved to the new Taunton branch I'll be too busy moving house and I won't have time.”
“You're not being moved” said Gordon. Some people really can't take a hint. “It's a small branch, they won't have juniors there.”
“I know, but I've been in this job over six months so I'm eligible for promotion and you don't seem to want me so I wondered....” I trailed off wondering if he can really be this stupid. “Oh well, more time to deal with my case then I suppose.”
Finally the penny dropped. “You blackmailing bastard! I didn't think you had the balls! In fact I know you haven't, I've seen for myself remember. You wouldn't do that!”
“I would and I will! I don't owe you any loyalty. And plenty of witnesses remember too, you won't silence them all. Criminal records for everyone who touched me I reckon, and I don't think the bank will thank you for getting them that sort of trouble and publicity. Let me know by the end of the day.”
It seems Gordon could pull strings because I had a mutually agreed 'illness' for the rest of the week and started in Taunton the next Monday.
My new colleagues are a nice friendly bunch, and none of them know how I got promoted so fast. They think it must be merit and I'm doing my best to prove them right. I wouldn't want them to know the truth, after all.
The End
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