The Boss (21 page)

‘So you've done it before?'

‘Twice now. The knack is to move with the times.'

He paused to fill our glasses and sat back, continuing with that same complacent certainty I always found so annoying and so compelling.

‘I was at school in the eighties, when it was all about the stock market and business was actually seen as cool. I was too young to really benefit, but I did manage to get in right at the end of the yuppie boom and set enough aside to give me a start. When the housing market crashed I put everything into property, so that by the mid nineties I had a serious stake. Mobile phones were the big thing at the time, with the market growing at an astonishing rate. I teamed up with Paul, who as you know is far more technically minded than I am but has no real sense for business. We did very well, although with hindsight we could have pushed it a little further before selling up. That was the first time I used the magic formula, as my foray into the housing market doesn't really count.'

I was listening in fascination, amazed he could be so
casual, as if the whole thing was just a game. After a moment to savour his sherry he went on.

‘That left us in a very healthy position. I invested enough to give myself a safety net, spent half a year in Europe just to soak up a little culture, and then had a crack at the new generation of computers – you know, flat-screen monitors and multi-gigabyte hard drives. Unfortunately there were just too many other people trying to do the same thing and it was hard to keep pace with the technology. We didn't actually make a loss, but it was hardly a great success. I then decided on security, which I think we can safely say will continue expanding for some years yet, and here I am.'

He smiled and lifted his glass once more. It sounded so easy, the way he said it, but I was thinking of one of Mum's exes, who'd always claimed to be on the verge of the next big thing but had ended up bankrupt. Evidently Stephen had a knack. I took a swallow of sherry, wondering how it would be to switch from employee to girlfriend. It would be an easy life, with no money worries, great sex and nothing to do but relax, or shop, or get drunk for the hell of it. Like him I might well be climbing the walls after a while, but there would surely be some way of keeping myself amused? He'd been fussing over his sherry, but began to talk again.

‘Tell me about yourself then. How did you come to be living in Hockford?'

‘There's not much to tell, really. My life's just been either boring or chaos.'

‘Surely not? You're well spoken, well educated . . .'

‘I was born in Hockford and I was at a really posh school when I was little, until I was eleven to be exact.
That's when Mum and Dad broke up after he lost his job as a manager at the shoe factory which used to be where the Hereward is now.'

‘I fear such stresses are a frequent cause of divorce.'

‘It was a bit more than that. Mum . . . Mum likes her men, and she was already having an affair with a guy called Eddie French, only she kicked him out a few months after the divorce. It's been the same ever since, with one prat of a boyfriend after another. You've met Archie Feltham, haven't you?'

‘He seems pleasant enough.'

‘He's an idiot.'

‘A little impractical, perhaps.'

‘An idiot. And he's always leching after me, as if I'd go with a man his age!'

‘I am somewhat older than you myself.'

‘You're different. You don't seem old.'

‘Hardly old.'

‘Sorry. Older, anyway. Maybe it's just because Archie is Mum's boyfriend. Anyway, she's already starting to get bored of him, I know the signs. Sorry, I'm sure I'm boring you with my stupid life.'

‘Not at all. I think you show remarkable strength of character in the circumstances. You're very much a free agent too. I admire that.'

He was right, in the sense that I don't let other people tell me what to do, although he was something of an exception. I'd finished my sherry and he refilled my glass, but not his own, explaining as he did so.

‘Excellent though this fino is, I had better be careful. You, on the other hand, may drink as much as you please.'

‘That depends how much work you expect to get out of me tomorrow morning.'

‘If I get you drunk I can hardly complain if you have a hangover.'

‘That's fair.'

He glanced at his watch.

‘I should in fact be getting home. I have rather a fine escalope marinating in the fridge and it's calling to me.'

For one moment I thought he was going to avoid the crucial question yet again, only for him to continue.

‘Quite a large escalope, in fact. I don't suppose you'd like to join me?'

‘I'd like that very much.'

‘Then perhaps if you would care to ring your mother, we shall be on our way. Bring the bottle.'

I did as I was told, cradling the still cold sherry bottle to my chest as he drove towards Brettenham at his normal high speed. He'd had his arm around me as we walked down to the car, and his conversation had begun to betray that same slight nervousness as he'd shown a few days before. Town had been thick with evening traffic as usual, and he had restricted his remarks to opinions of other drivers, but now he spoke to me again.

‘Felicity, I shall say this now rather than later, because that way I can always drop you off by the roadside if the answer is no . . .'

He laughed, slightly strained, to show it was a joke.

‘. . . but am I right in thinking you would like to stay more often, perhaps even every night?'

I'd made my decision already, and there was no hesitation in my answer.

‘Yes, please, but you have to promise to spank me when I'm naughty.'

I WOKE THE
next morning with my future looking as rosy as my bottom. Stephen had made his promise and kept it, turning me across his knee after dinner for a long, sensuous spanking that had inevitably ended in sex. That had been the first time of several, both spankings and sex, although for me the two were now becoming inseparably intertwined. In the morning he'd asked if I would move in with him properly, and I'd agreed.

We hadn't bothered to thrash out the details, but I was sure that would all come with time. What mattered was that I was his girlfriend, I would be living with him, and I had decided I would also be faithful to him. After all, if we were living under the same roof it was hardly fair for me to spend my evenings joyriding or bonking American airmen. I still didn't feel he owned me, just that there ought to be a bit of give and take. Only one thing seemed to worry him at all, as he explained on the way into work.

‘I still want you to work for us, of course, but inevitably this will change our day-to-day relationship.'

‘I don't have to call you “Mr English” any more then?'

‘Actually I'd rather you did, at least in front of these council types, and clients in general. You don't mind, do you?'

‘No. It's fun really, because I'm calling you the same
thing in front of Mr Phelps and his lot as I do when you punish me.'

He laughed before answering me.

‘Let's keep things more or less as they are then, only I'll bump up your salary a bit, of course.'

‘That's very sweet of you, but it's really quite generous.'

Again he laughed, this time loudly.

‘Felicity, darling, do you have any idea how much we're making?'

‘I know the value of the council contract, yes, and how much the base units cost. Quite a bit, I suppose, but I haven't worked it out.'

‘Quite a bit, yes, I suppose you could put it that way, and while your salary is perfectly fair it's hardly generous. You may as well have a car too while you're at it. You do drive, don't you?'

‘Yes, but I'd rather buy one myself, if you don't mind. I'm a bit fussy, I suppose.'

‘What did you have in mind?'

‘I'm not sure. Something with style. A Morgan maybe, or an old-fashioned Jag.'

‘Good heavens, you do have refined tastes!'

‘I like cars, nice cars. I hate boxes on wheels.'

‘Which is what you thought I was going to get you?'

‘Oh . . . no, sorry, I didn't mean to be rude . . .'

‘Tut, tut, Felicity, you really must mind your manners, but maybe a good spanking will help. That makes two I owe you, I believe.'

‘What about last night?'

‘Pure pleasure. However, we clearly need to distinguish between the two, so perhaps . . . yes, that would be ideal. When we get home each evening we
can settle any little matters of domestic discipline that may have come up.'

He finished with his characteristic chuckle, leaving me looking forward to a life of regular spankings with both apprehension and anticipation.

Things didn't really change much at all at work because there was simply too much going on to worry about the relationships between us, or even who was boss. If it was management, Stephen did it. If it was technical, Paul did it. Anything else, Fizz did it. I also seemed to have ended up as the one running backwards and forwards between the warehouse and the council offices, because while Mr Phelps was an ignorant pig, he was an ignorant pig to everybody, but Mr Burrows obviously fancied me and Mrs Shelby preferred dealing with a woman.

They seemed to want to speak to me every five minutes, and it was on one of my trips there and back that I ran into Pete and Dave, sitting together on a bench with cans of strong lager in their hands and a plastic carrier bag with yet more cans in it beside them. I'd spoken to them several times, but I hadn't seen them since they got arrested, and immediately found myself smiling in a mixture of embarrassment and sympathy.

‘Hi, boys.'

It was Dave who answered, grinning.

‘Hey, Fizz, you owe us, big time.'

I shrugged, hardly able to deny it outright but knowing I was going to have to turn them down. Pete added his opinion.

‘Yeah, big, big time. The works, I reckon.'

‘Sorry, boys, no can do.'

Dave looked hurt.

‘What do you mean, no can do? You said you would, and I got nicked!'

‘You got nicked for driving a car without tax and insurance or anything, Dave, not for being dirty with me.'

‘Yeah, but you still owe us. For fuck's sake, I . . .'

He trailed off, unwilling to say it. I found myself trying not to laugh, but he did have a point and at the very least I owed them an explanation.

‘I'm sorry, really, and I would have gone through with it, only my boyfriend has asked me to move in with him so I can hardly go around getting kinky with you two, can I?'

‘Why not?'

‘Because . . . because I've decided to be faithful to him, that's why. It's only right, when I'm living in his house.'

He did not look happy, but he couldn't find an answer. Nor could Pete. I did feel bad and ducked down to kiss them both, saying the only thing I could think of to cheer them up.

‘I'm sorry, but I'm not saying never, OK?'

That brightened them up, and although I knew that I was very, very unlikely ever to do it, I at least felt better as I walked away. I was glad I'd had the conversation, and got it over so quickly. Now they knew I was no longer up for kicks, and that only left Martin, who deserved an explanation, and Steve, but Steve was Steve and didn't really count.

Steve was also going to get his way with the council, as I discovered that afternoon. Mr Phelps himself called to say that they had finally approved the camera sites, although there were still various committees and so
forth to get through before we actually got the go-ahead to put the things up. The main camera on the Bury Road would allow Steve to sneak in and out of town by going through the park, creating an instant alibi for his trips to Calais, should one ever be needed.

I still wasn't completely happy, but there didn't seem to be anything else I could do, except of course for moving to Brettenham, which didn't have any cameras at all. My scally friends, sadly, would just have to take their chances, and all I could do was watch the process roll on towards completion.

Friday came around again, but instead of heading back to Brettenham for dinner and what was to be my first punishment spanking, Stephen stopped the car in the mouth of one of the logging tracks on the Thetford Road. I immediately wondered what he was up to. Sure enough, no sooner had we stepped out into the warm evening sunlight than he confirmed my hopes and my fears too.

‘This is a pretty place, and I seem to remember promising you a spanking
al fresco
.'

‘Sort of . . .'

‘Let us not nit-pick. You are about to get one.'

He'd swung his leg over the barrier, and drew in a deep breath of air as he started down the track. We were only just outside town, really rather too close for comfort, making me even more nervous than usual as I followed him. He was already looking around, as if trying to select a suitable place to sit while he spanked me, even though we were in full view of the passing traffic.

‘Um . . . Stephen, shouldn't we go a little further into the woods?'

He gave a solemn nod.

‘A few paces, perhaps. I wouldn't want to be responsible for causing a crash.'

‘How about a few hundred paces, and right in among the trees?'

‘Oh, I don't think that will be necessary, but I do need somewhere to sit. Hmm, perhaps this pile of logs?'

‘You're not suppose to climb on the log piles, in case they collapse, and anyway, you'll get pine resin all over your trousers.'

‘Ah, yes, I hadn't thought of that. Thank you.'

He walked on, but only a little way, stopping where a footpath cut across the track. The stile was perfect, at least for sitting on. He turned to me.

‘OK. A little variation this time, I think. Take your knickers down, not off, just to the tops of your thighs.'