Chapter 4

On the Friday, I took Helen to lunch as Tim had asked. I got Davinia to arrange it, just so that she would know it was not me trying to two time her. It was interesting discussion, and I went to see Tim afterwards.

He watched me stroll into his office and sit down, I looked a t him across his desk.

"How was lunch?" he asked.

"Interesting."

"Interesting how?" he waited, patiently.

"Well, she does want to come to us. Apparently you and I have a reputation of being the magic pair. As far as our own teams are concerned, they seem to be full of our praises as the best bosses ever, not that they would say it to our faces, but they seem to tell all their opposite numbers in other departments. Apparently, we trust people more, we give them greater responsibility and we are more sympathetic when they have problems. So Helen, and she reckons a load of others, want to work for us."

"But that means she will turn her back on what? Four years banking experience? And some of them have got a lot more than that."

"Yeah, I guess so. But not Helen, she's a techy, not a banking person. In fact, I think I may have a problem. Her CV is quite impressive."

"Go on."

"Well, if she did transfer, I wonder if she really should be ahead of Drew. I may have painted myself into a bit of a corner there."

"And what are you going to do about it?" he asked, somewhat neutrally I thought. Unlike him to distance himself from a departmental problem.

"I'm going to talking it over with my boss, and see what he thinks." I looked him straight in the eye.

"Bugger. I had hoped you'd sort it out without me, 'cos I haven't the faintest idea what to suggest. Can we put it off for a bit? We don't even know if Charlie Bullard will let Helen transfer."

"Well, Drew is getting a bit itchy, I'm not sure how long I can put him off. And eventually I'll need to actually start the project, customers tend to get a bit upset if I don't."

"Well, let's be resolute in our commitment to indecision until Charlie's back next week."

And that was the way we left it. But, as I returned to my own office, Drew followed me in, "Have you sorted it out with Tim yet?"

"No. I told you, neither of us can do anything until we know what's going on about staff transfers and people allocation, and that's Charlie Bullard's decision, and he's on holiday." I watched him, he was visibly disappointed, "I'm sorry, Drew, I wish I could tell you more, I really do. But you're going to have to wait."

"This is because I made a play for Dav, isn't it? You're mucking me about on purpose."

Now that did annoy me, "No it fucking isn't. If that's how you think I manage the teams, then I suggest you get out of my office and come back when you can think straight."

"What, and wait for Charlie Bullard to allocate my project, because he's always organised projects in this department?" he said, with very pronounced sarcasm.

"Listen, you fucking idiot. I've just come out of Tim's office, after talking to him about it, and he's given me a direct order that it has to wait 'til Charlie's back next week. If you don't believe me, then go and see Tim. I don't really care, as long as you get out of my office."

He stormed out. I was angry, but in truth, not with Drew, but with myself. He had hit a nerve. First I had made him the promotion offer before I had talked it through with Tim, and he had told me about Helen. Second, because I knew I was having a real problem choosing between him and Helen if I was given the choice. Third, because although I didn't think it applied in this case, I knew I would have a problem dealing with anyone who made overtures to Davinia.

I spent the rest of the afternoon hammering away at my keyboard, and when I say hammering I mean hammering. Late in the afternoon, the 'E' key gave up on me. I don't really blame it, I hadn't exactly been gentle. But that finished off my afternoon so well, leaving me with a feeling of absolute zero bonhomie towards the world in general, and TGI in particular.

I was idly tapping away at the 'E' key, in the hope that somehow, it would miraculously come to life, when I became aware that someone was standing at my office door. "Yes?" I barked.

"I was sitting waiting for you to come and find me, so that we can go over the road. But it got later and later, and Tim's gone home, so I thought I'd come and find you. Obviously, it isn't a good time."

It was Davinia. I looked up at her and every ounce of anger and frustration melted away. I sighed, "Oh, I'm sorry. It hasn't been a good afternoon." I looked at my watch, "You're right, we're overdue for a drink."

We went into the pub hand in hand. And I knew they noticed, and Davinia seemed pleased. She gave my arm a little squeeze, "No PDA, remember!" I whispered.

Someone bought me a pint, and Davinia and myself got separated. But I watched her across the room, and she seemed to be animatedly talking to a bunch of girls, mainly secretaries. I chatted happily, and bought a round for those who wanted one, as I got my second pint. By then, I was feeling a bit better, and thought I ought to talk to Drew, to put the relationship back on track. But when I asked where he was, I was told he left very soon after I had arrived with Davinia. Poor lad!

Then I saw Alice heading towards me, "Hi Dave. How are you? More to the point, how are you and Davinia?"

I glanced across to where Davinia was in animated conversation with a group of the younger guys from the office, "We're fine, I think. Thank you, Alice. What makes you ask?"

"Oh, nothing. Just wondering when TGI's resident stud would be available again?"

"Why? Are you offering?" I asked, falling back on flirting mode that myself and Alice had used so often in the past.

"Maybe. But I don't share. Or not like that anyway." She smiled at me, with a half question, half challenge look in her eyes.

What the Hell does that mean? That she does share in some circumstances? The mystery of Alice deepens, I'm just glad I don't have to solve it. And then a thought struck me, "Anyway, who says I'll be going back on the market anytime soon?"

"Oh, don't tell me that Davinia is going to tame the great Dave Finch. She goes up in my estimation." And she raised her glass in a toast towards Davinia. Thank Goodness, Davinia didn't notice.

Davinia stayed at my place that night, but on Saturday morning she went home.

We had a date on the Saturday evening, but she went home late that night. On the Sunday I was invited to family lunch with her parents. It was no where near as bad as I expected. Her father was a bit formal with me, but didn't make me feel to awkward. Her mother was very friendly. She turned out to be a wonderful pastry cook, I got points for praising her pastry on the rhubarb pie, which led to some sort of tentative bond with her.

That led, in turn, to my chatting to her in the kitchen about cooking. But then out of the blue she looked at me, straight into my eyes, "Be careful, David, don't get too fond of Davinia. She's still getting over Tod. You're good for her, but there may not be a future in it."

"I'm not looking for a future. Don't worry about me. But I think you're wrong. She's well and truly over Tod."

"You would think so, wouldn't you? But I know my daughter. She isn't going back to him or anything like that, she's made up her mind, and she doesn't change her mind on things like that. But once she was very committed to him, she's got a long way to go yet before she's truly over him and thinking about her future. Just don't get carried away, that's all I'm saying."

After a cup of tea, late in the afternoon, I went home, alone. I was feeling a little depressed, I had hopes that Davinia would have come back to my place, at least for the evening. That, plus the warning from her mother added up to me feeling a little unsettled. So I gave Lucy a call. She was pleased to hear from me, and invited me to her house.

I arrived to find her dressed in her French Maid's outfit. That was not what I wanted. I wanted to be out in public, as Dave the stud bachelor with an easy woman on my arm, one that everyone would guess was mine for the taking. So I sent her upstairs to change, being quite clear in my instructions: stockings, no panties, short skirt, blouse, no bra, high heels, and slutty!

She looked at me, defiantly. "I can't go out, I haven't got a babysitter. They're upstairs, asleep."

Damn, that was a fair objection.

But then she went on, "Have I displeased you? M'sieur. Have I been naughty?"

I stared at her. A spanking again? What is it with this woman? She won't get rid of her dud husband, because she says she's afraid of the final argument, and yet she likes spankings and pain, so what's she scared of from him. I'm not sure how these things connect, but it all left me feeling something wasn't quite right.

"No, you haven't or not yet at least. How about one of those whiskies, a large one? I need it."

After we had our drinks and were seated in the sitting room I looked at her and paused, but before I said anything she spoke, "So what is it that demands a large whisky? You pissed off or something?"

"Yes, or something." I looked at her, "Oh, I don't know, Lucy. For the first time in my life, I think a girl is getting under my skin, and her mother tells me that she's on the rebound, and it won't last. One half of me hates that, the other half says 'So what? You've ploughed through plenty of girls, so what's different this time?' I just wish I knew where I stood in her eyes."

"You and me both. Don't you think I want to know if Pete really has left me or whether there is some chance for us?"

"But you told me it was all over for you and Pete. If you think there is a chance for you and you want that chance, then what the Hell are you doing now, dressed up for some sex scene with some guy you hardly know?

"Well I was hoping that we were going to play that sex scene instead of sitting around telling each other what's wrong with our lives."

"Lucy, have you done anything about facing up to things and actually talking to Pete since Wednesday?"

"Like you asking your girlfriend where you stand, you mean? Well, I thought about it. But, no, I haven't done anything."

"Damn you Lucy. You can't go on like this."

I looked at her and waited. She hung her head, not saying anything. Eventually, I spoke again, "And what is this spanking thing every time? Does it really turn you on to be spanked that much?"

She looked up, possibly happier to talk about sex rather than relationships, "I guess I like a strong and forceful lover, Pete was always that. And I like the intensity of spanking or a heavy scene with you, Dave. Just for a few minutes it helps me forget. I think if you just gently made love to me, and I guess you'd be rather good at that, I reckon I'd be thinking about Pete the whole time, and neither of us wants that."

"I can see that. Yes. I guess if we had a candlelit supper with soft music I'd feel guilty about Davinia. But wham bam type sex, yes I can manage that. Oh, and don't think I don't like spanking you, that I'm too much of a gentleman or something, because I'm not. I can understand that a little pain can sometimes help, be a turn on."

She looked up, interested, but then took a sip of her drink before quietly asking, "Why, do you like a little pain as well, Dave? I had a boyfriend once that was like that, but he didn't last long."

"Oh, no. Pains alright if I'm the one administering it. I had a girlfriend once that was into the full leather dominatrix thing. At first I thought it might be fun, so I gave it a whirl. We only lasted that one night, I was out of there, it was a total turn off for me. But I can do it the other way around." I smiled, "So maybe we are compatible after all, Lucy." I was beginning to feel that we could move on to something now.

"Have you done it the other way around, as you call it, often? Are there a lot of girls around that like to be spanked or roughed up a bit?" she looked genuinely interested.

"A few times. Why?"

"Oh, it's just that Pete used to think I was a bit kinky, that both of us were both a bit kinky really. It was why we would have to stay together forever. That's what he used to say. Now look at us. Oh, Dave..."

"You're not kinky, or not terribly so, anyway. If it suited you both, then why not?"

"Do you and this Davinia, isn't that her name? Well, do you do anything kinky?"

"I knew we should have gone out for a drink. We seem to be talking about our lives, rather than getting on with what we both expected."

"Well, I assumed that you wouldn't want to, well not until I've really sorted out where I am with Pete. I remember what you said, you said you wouldn't unless you were sure that the husband was well and truly out of it. That's why I promised you that he'd gone on that first night."

"Fuck! You lied to me. I really wouldn't have done anything if I'd known."

"No, I didn't lie. I just sort of..." she paused to find the right word, "took a necessary view that my marriage was definitely over. For Christ's sake Dave, what do you think I went to Shades for? To get myself laid. I needed to and I wanted to. Get over it, from what I remember, you enjoyed it."

We sat in silence for a bit. Then she asked, "So, what are you going to do about Davinia? Do you spank her, or does she have other thinks she likes you two to play?"

"No. She's sort of clean and wholesome. Don't get me wrong, she's very passionate in bed, but nothing out of the ordinary. Sexy undies, plenty of sex, happy to give me a blow job, but no leather, handcuffs, spanking or French Maids. Nothing like that. But then the relationship is in its early days." I paused to think about Davinia, "But then again, I don't think she'd want to do anything too oddball. She's a very normal sort of person. And I rather like that."

After that I poured another whisky for us both, and we went on talking, like two old friends. Me dressed in normal clothes, she dressed in her silly little French Maid's outfit, it was all a bit surreal. But somewhere along the line, I think I made a friend. A friend that I could fuck, if and when she gets free of Pete, but a future fuck-buddy nonetheless.

Later she made us both a mug of coffee, and we sat and watched television. Well I said it was surreal!

On the Monday, I caught Tim early on, and told him that I suspected I had a problem with Drew. He told me not to worry, that he was hoping to see Charlie Bullard that day, and whatever happened, he promised to have a word with Drew.

Just before lunch Drew put his head around my door, "Are you going to the gym tonight?"

"I was thinking about it. Why?"

"Oh, It's just that I'd like to buy you a pint afterwards." He smiled, sheepishly. Tim had worked his charm.

I smiled back, "I'll hold you to that."

Later, I asked Davinia if there was any hope of seeing her tonight, on the excuse that if so, I had to warn her that I was going to be a bit late. But, I had no problem, she was going to spend the evening sewing costumes for The Rivals. But we agreed to a date for the Tuesday evening, we thought we might go to the cinema again.

So, that Monday evening ended up in The Swan again, this time just Drew and myself without Tim. We shared a couple of rounds, and neither work nor Davinia were mentioned. But, it was nice to relax, drinking a pint with a mate.

Just after lunch on the Tuesday, Davinia came by my desk, "Can you take this lot back to your place, please. It'll make life easier when I stay over." She handed me two full carrier bags.

I took the bags from her, looking in them. They were full of packs of panties, a couple of bra's, a toothbrush, packs of tights in various shades, some make up and all sorts of feminine basics. "Sure" I said, smiling.

"Thanks" she said, and walked out.

Not long after that, Alice came in, "Have you seen Tim, Dave? His office is empty, not even Davinia is there?"

"No, sorry. Dav was here only a couple of minutes ago, so I guess she's only in the loo or getting herself a coffee. But I haven't spoken to Tim all day. Sorry."

"Bother. I want him to do a sales presentation with me on Thursday. But, as he's not there, how about you?"

"Good heavens! You must be joking. Tim's your man for that sort of thing. I haven't done anything like that in my life."

"There has to be a first time..." she looked at me.

"And this isn't it." I said firmly.

She looked at the two bags that Davinia had left. She couldn't see much of what was in them, except for a packet of pretty cotton panties in various pastel shades. She looked back at me, "I'd have put money on you being a silk boxers man. I live and learn." And she turned tail and left.

No more than five minutes after she left than Tim came in and flopped down in one of my visitors chairs.

I looked at him, "It's like Piccadilly Circus in here this afternoon. What can I do for you?"

He looked at me, it was going to be bad news, I could tell, "I've just had lunch with Neil and Charlie."

"Oh how the mighty live. Was the caviar up to standard."

"I don't know, but the cheese sandwich was perfectly average. But we have been talking about these transfer requests. Apparently there's been more than you or I know."

"Anyone interesting?" I asked. I could think of a couple of names that I would be pleased to welcome to the department.

"Dunno, Charlie wasn't telling."

"So?"

"Well, Charlie is going to create a formal procedure. People can apply, via Personnel, for any advertised vacancy. But I guess they have always been able to do that, otherwise what was the point of putting the vacancies up on the notice board. But, if they are doing it without a specific vacancy, then they can apply to Personnel in confidence. They will be interviewed, and if the request is sensible, then the target department will be informed, and they can consider it. Only if there is a sensible transfer possible will it become public. Only then will their original manager be told."

"Sounds OK. Why are you upset?"

"I'll come to that. I'm not sure that Charlie's got that last bit right. I reckon I'd want to know if someone is so upset that they want to move out, rather than find out after the event. I can understand that if there is no transfer possible, then they should be able to stay where they are, without prejudice, but..."

He drifted off into his own thoughts, so I brought him back to reality, "Want a coffee?" I asked.

"Ooh! Yes please."

I went off to the coffee machine. When I returned with two plastic cups of coffee Tim was just sitting there, waiting and thinking.

"So?" I asked again, to break into his train of thought.

He looked at me. "What are you doing every first Tuesday of the month, eleven o'clock onwards?"

"Depends." I answered hesitantly. "I know I'm going to regret this, what should I be doing?"

He smiled, "Apparently, you and I should be attending the new Development Forum."

"And what's the Development Forum?" I asked

"It's the new, exciting way that you and I can discuss all development issues, from personnel transfers to new technologies and methodologies with our opposite numbers in banking and investments. Apparently Andrew Tweedsman is going to be there, and Neil is going to chair it. My guess is that he'll only do that for the first one or two. Committees, even if you call them forums, don't sound a very Neil sort of thing."

"And what does this gain us?"

He looked around the room for inspiration, "I haven't the faintest idea. But I think we're lumbered."

"When do they start?"

He naturally turned to look at the calendar on my office wall, "First Tuesday of next month."

"Do we have to do anything, or just turn up?" I asked.

He shrugged. Then he sighed. Then he visibly brightened, "But it means that we can have a quiet word with Helen, and tell her that she'll be able to ask formally for a transfer."

"Yes, I suppose it does."

"So?"

I looked at him, searching his face for a clue as to the best choice of Drew or Helen problem, "I don't fucking know."

"Well it's almost make your mind up time. Would a pint this evening help?"

"Probably, but I can't. I've promised Dav that we'll go to the cinema."

"What're going to see?"

"I don't fucking know that either."

"Well you are a mine of information this afternoon, aren't you." He smiled, and left.

The date with Davinia was good, the film wasn't. Afterwards we picked up a Chinese takeaway, and took it back to my place and ate it in bed. It was a bit mucky, but licking up sweet and sour sauce off her left breast made it all worthwhile. She stayed over.

In the morning she asked what had I done with her shopping bags, I told her that I'd dumped them in the living room. She padded off to find them. She didn't come back.

Eventually, I found her in the living room, sitting on the sofa, in tears, going through my porn DVD's. She looked up at me, tears running down my face, "Oh Dave, some of these are sick. Do you really like watching this stuff? It's perverted."

"Well sometimes, but some of them are a bit too much, I agree. I guess I bought those when I was drunk or something. I'm sorry if they upset you."

I took a step towards her, but she sort of froze and then stood up and walked passed me into the bedroom. I followed her, as I came through the door, she was dressing, "Get me my shopping bags, please." Her voice sounded cold.