Chapter 3

Friday November 12th

Angie took me to the pub this evening. She’s bought one of those “Barks” collar and leash sets and insisted that I wear it. “This way there’s no risk of you getting caught for curfew breaking again on CCTV,” she said. I asked if it was really necessary as she was going to be with me all the way, especially since it wasn’t even eight o’clock yet. She said she didn’t want to take the chance that I’d suddenly get sidetracked by something or she might not be noticed in the shadows. “And after all, you don’t want to get another strike before you’ve even gone on your course, do you?”

It felt pretty embarrassing being led through the streets on a leash with a collar round my neck but at least we didn’t see anyone. Actually thinking about it the only way we would have seen anyone was if they were doing something similar. At least Angie unclipped the leash when we got to the pub. It was a funny sort of evening. Norm was there with his wife. He looked worried that I’d say something and it was pretty obvious he didn’t want to talk to me. None of the other blokes were there. Angie bought me a drink (would have been nice if she’d asked what I wanted first, mind) and I sat down at one of the tables. She was just getting hers when she got pulled into a conversation at the bar with a bunch of other women. I wondered if they were friends of hers from the Party meetings. Anyway she just carried on talking while I was sitting on my own. There was another bloke I didn’t recognise sat on his own at the other end of the room too. I looked across and he nodded towards the group of women at the bar and then shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “What can you do?” I didn’t have any answers. I stayed where I was, waiting for Angie.

Norm and his girlfriend left after about twenty minutes. As they went out the door I noticed that she patted his backside. I guess she was planning another session with her strap-on.

Karen came over when I’d finished my drink to ask if I wanted another but I said I was OK. “Your Angie is really keen on this New Order lot, isn’t she?” she said. I said I didn’t think I was allowed to call them that at which Karen laughed, “Sounds like the message has got through to you at least.”

When Angie finally decided it was time to go she stood at the door, brandishing my leash and called “Walkies!” Her friends at the bar had a good laugh. I tried complaining on the way home but she just said, couldn’t I take a joke? I guess the answer is that it’s becoming harder.

Saturday November 13th

I said I was going to jot down any strange stuff I notice that would have been thought impossible a while back. Angie asked me to go the village shop for some groceries this afternoon. It’s about a ten minute walk and to be honest it was good to get out of the house on my own – Angie had been bitching about how one of the secretaries in her office (male of course) had fucked up sending some letters need for a contract signing because he “didn’t think they really needed to go special delivery”. Plenty of grunts about “shit MDDM” all morning.

Anyway I got to the shop and picked up the things we needed. As I was coming out, this big Jaguar pulls into the car park. In the back is Sally Guest. I didn’t notice at first but her husband, Geoff, is up front, driving. She and her husband are the sort of unofficial lord and lady of the manor. They live in the oldest house in the village. She chairs the local council, always opens the village fete. He’s involved in the golf club, local business forum, stuff like that.

Anyway that car stops and he gets out like he’s the chauffeur. Walks round to the back door of the car and opens it for Sally. She gets out without a glance at him. Sally is late-fourties, maybe 50, definitely a MILF (except of course no one dares use THAT term any more) and she is dressed to inspire envy: spike heels; a suit with lapels sharp enough to cut yourself on and hose that I can practically hear swishing on the other side of the car park. Geoiff is just wearing a suit, standing by the car door while she goes into the store. She comes out again with whatever she’s bought, slides into the back seat of the car without a word. He closes the door, goes back to the driving seat and drives off. I mean that would be odd enough anywhere but when you know it’s her husband - for fuck’s sake? A print out of an email dated Monday November 15th...

To: All Staff From: HR

Subject: Recognition Programme & Workplace Changes

Top Staff!

Let’s give a big “well done” to our top employees this month: Lucy Barnes : Head of Service Planning – Carol Watson : Lead for Client Implementation and Jennifer Cosby : Service Data Analyst.

Men’s Washrooms

Following a number of incidents where staff have been accused of taking too long over personal breaks, please be advised cubicle doors are being removed from the stalls in the men’s washrooms. Users, should be advised that random checks will be carried out.

Remember: After Dark Use The BARK

Scribbled on the bottom of this in handwriting is “Really???!”

There were a lot of police cars in the village this evening. Flashing blue lights and sirens. I’m not sure what it was about.

Sunday November 14th

Apparently the police cars were because of Norm. He’s done a runner according to Angie. His wife came back yesterday evening and he’d cleared his stuff out. No sign of him. The wife is pretty pissed off because she’d just taken out formal sponsorship for him and now she’s supposed to know where he’s gone. The MCF officers weren’t very sympathetic it seems.

I don’t know what happens if they find him. I mean can they force him to go back?

Angie said I shouldn’t get any ideas from Norm. She says the MCF hate chasing absconders – they see it as a right waste of time. Apparently, they’d rather be looking for real dissidents. That means they aren’t too gentle when they do pick one up. From what I’ve seen of MCF officers, that doesn’t surprise me. Quite a few of them seem to “adjust” their uniforms to look more intimidating; patent leather belts, tighter than regulation skirts, higher heels than you might think practical. Most of them look like they’d enjoy the excuse for a bit of in-depth interrogation. Somebody with an uncharitable turn of mind might think they were dressing to incite attention that could be construed as being in breach of the respect agenda. When I said this, Angie accused me of being cynical and not understanding the difficult job they do. Plus they wouldn’t be able to incite anything if men weren’t so sex obsessed. I didn’t argue. I might not be happy with how things are but I still reckon it’s better to try to wait out this whole “New Order” lunacy.

Monday November 15th

Well, finally, my replacement bank card turned up. It was addressed to Angie, of course. She took great pains to explain to me just how it worked, as though I’d never had any money of my own before. “You do know,” she said. “This is loaded with a fixed amount each month. You can’t exceed it. It’s not a credit card. OK?”

I just nodded. There wasn’t any point in arguing. At least now I don’t have to eat in the office canteen every day. That was getting a bit dull and I’ve just realised how I’ve missed having that break at lunch time when I can get out from under Lucy’s watchful eye, although she’s been off for a bit.

Tuesday November 16th

I’ve been worrying for a while that this might happen.

Lucy was back in the office today for the first time since she and Angie had their get together. She called me in to her (well, used to be my) office just after 10 o’clock. She’s sat behind the desk looking like like she fell into an executive bitch dressing-up box - tailored suit, starched white blouse with a pin-tuck bib front, hair up and lacquered so hard you think a ball would bounce off it.

“David, lovely,” she says and then asks me to fetch her a cup of coffee and oh, by the way, why don’t I get one for myself.

When I get back she’s all chatty. Wasn’t it fun when she came over? And, isn’t Angie just so enthusiastic. It was the first time she’d even kissed a girl apparently and now Lucy can see why New Order are so keen on what they call “the Sapphic Alternative”. I say that’s fine, I quite understand but she laughs calls me a silly boy and says “As well as, not instead of, dummy” before she goes on to explain that the one thing she isn’t keen on is the fact that New Order don’t like “prick sex” and she’d quite like to get some of that after hours in the stationery store if that’s all right by me; which, since she’s discussed it with Angela, she assumes it is. Then she says why don’t I run along and get her another coffee and not to worry, she’ll make sure we’re all finished in time for a male-only bus that gets me home before curfew.

So that’s all right then, I think, NOT. I mean I have no idea if Angie is OK with this or what the bosses upstairs might think about it. On the other hand Lucy is the boss down here and I’m not sure I see a way out of it.

Anyway at about ten to five when everyone else is starting to finish up I look up from my desk and Lucy is standing there holding a pile of files. “Can you help me with these?” she asks and heads off without waiting for me to answer. I get a few sympathetic nods from some of the other guys as though its typical, the boss asking for help just when you’re aiming to leave. Feeling like I can’t do anything else, I follow her and sure enough she’s headed to the stationery store. There’s an alcove at the back where the shelving doesn’t reach and as I’m passing that she grabs me by my tie and pulls me into it with a giggle. She’s already got her blouse unbuttoned and told me to put my hands on her tits. She can tell I’m reluctant. “Come on. You really don’t want to piss off your boss, especially when she’s got your sponsor’s OK, so let’s have a bit of enthusiasm.”

It shouldn’t have been too difficult. Lucy’s an attractive girl. A year ago this would have been fantasy central but somehow it didn’t seem right.

Lucy was determined not to let any scruples I had interfere with her fun though and she was soon fumbling at the zip of my trousers with one hand, pulling her skirt up with the other while using her tongue to count my wisdom teeth.

“Try and do something more creative with your hands,” she urged, “these things aren’t dials on a radio.” I grunted something apologetic as she finally got my cock out of my pants. She ran the tips of her finger nails up behind my balls and that kicked me into a seriously stiff erection. Suddenly she backed off, reached for her handbag and passed me a condom. “You’d better slip this on. I’d do it myself but that thing might go off.”

Well that slowed me down a bit, so she had to fumble with my cock a bit to get it properly hard again once I’d got the condom on. Then she pushed me back against the shelving and slipped my cock up inside her. I really didn’t have to do much. She was bouncing up and down enough for the two of us. I had a bit of angle-iron shelving in my back which was as much an incentive to push back as anything else and frankly I was bloody grateful when I came. With her following on not too long after.