Outstripped (12 page)

"Just
checking," said Jody, "it’s important, and I
don't
know the colour of his socks." She lied again.

"So
how do I get my hands on this hunk then?" demanded Lucy, now keen to meet
some 'meat'
outside
the club.

"He
goes in 'The Last Drop' down the Isle of Dogs in Canary Wharf. You need to get
down there mid week. He's normally there with a few of his mates, so I'll get a
couple of the others to back you up and I'll spot you the fare and some cash
for drinks. There's no rush, so when you do see him, and you won't miss him,
play it cool. Remember you're after a Temp's job when it comes up, not just a
quickie or two, though if you think it will help then use your feminine charm.
Don't just fuck his brains out coz you can. I need this. We need this,
okay?"

"Holy
shit Jody! Is that all? Will this tape self-destruct in 30 seconds? Have you
got my script ready as well or can I ad-lib? It all sounds a bit serious."

"Its
not really, I just want to get this right. I've been trying to plan something
for him for a long time, as a 'thank you', you know, but it’s a bit hard when
you're trying to keep it all a secret at the same time."

"So,
what are you thanking him for?" asked Rachael with a wry smile.

"Now
that bit is a secret. Personal. You know? I really do appreciate this Lucy and
I'll definitely make it worth your while, though I can't help thinking you'll
be getting your rewards anyway, if you know what I mean. He is a bit of a push
over." She winked.

Jody was
trying her best to deflate the sense of seriousness over the plot and make
light of it, but at the same time she needed the message to get through. She
had faith in her 'saucy secret agent' though, and she was confident Lucy would
come up trumps.

Jody
fumbled round in her handbag and came up with a portrait photograph of Lucy's
man/target/mission/objective.

As she
passed it over to Lucy, Rachael snatched at it saying "let’s get a good
look then. Oh, I see what you mean now. He is quite 'bonkable' isn't he? Can I
'do him' instead?"

"Can
you type at five thousand words a minute?" said Lucy, "No, I didn't
think so. Give him back. He's my mission. Get your own."

Rachael
pulled a 'trout lip' and faked some huffing and sulking before they all had a
good giggle.

"Has
he, er, got a donkey's doo-dah then?" asked Rachael, trying to get a
further look at the photo over Lucy's protective arms.

"All
I can say is, well, like I said before, you won't be disappointed. If you go
there that is. And I'm not saying you have to go there."

"I
would," said Rachael, "Bloody right."

"We
know you would. You'd go anywhere phallic, with or without a pulse
"
said Jody.

"Or
batteries," added Lucy and they were all back to giggling again.

Jody
brought an end to the conversation, arranging to meet up again with Lucy for
some finer details on how to get Luke Banner to take her on as a Temp.

Over the
following days Jody had some business cards and a letterhead made up and she
put together a few references for Lucy that could be used when the time came,
together with a fake C.V. and such. Lucy was to wear Jody's old travel agency
uniform and pretend she and the others had met up straight after work for a
drink at "The Last Drop".

It was
one of those newer styles of pubs that you can't help but like.
Huge, but not so as you'd get lost.
Big enough for a shit
load of people without seeming over crowded. Although it was nearly new it had
been 'decked out' to look old, eclectic and well established using
architectural antiques and 'less-than-perfect' collectables. These types of
places are very cleverly put together in such a way as to appeal to both the
older generation, who remember all this gear, and the younger, trendier
generation who think it’s all just so cool. Which it is, of
course.

'The Last
Drop' was buzzing. Six o'clock on a Wednesday for some reason is always
popular, everywhere, especially with the white collar brigade. No one was ever
quite sure why, but it was always traditionally a good time to get a drink in
the city. Maybe because its approximately half way to the weekend and people
simply can't wait that long to blow off a little 'city steam', or maybe its for
some other, much more technical, psycho-analytical and sensible reason that's
beyond your average 'non-MENSA' student's capacity to comprehend. Who cares? It
was a good time to go for a drink.

Lucy and
Co. had arrived early for a thorough reconnaissance mission. They scoped the
place for strategic vantage points for both letching at others and being seen
in the best possible position. Two or three drinks into their session, Luke and
whoever
he was to meet in here had still not turned
up. Lucy got up to go to the toilet.

She
passed the bar on the way and as she squeezed past a few people close to the
tall tables, she spotted him. He was standing with a number of smart suited
guys and a couple of girls who were sitting on bar stools at one of the tall
tables. They all seemed to be having a laugh and a good 'wind down'.

"How
the hell did he get in here, without us seeing him?" she thought. He
looked up and caught her eye as she all but gawped, open mouthed in his
direction. She smiled then quickly looked away and continued on her trajectory
towards the bladder relief room.

She
hurriedly took a pee then pulled herself together in the mirror before
returning to the main arena to do battle.

"Patience,"
she muttered to herself, "Get a grip, it’s only a dick with legs, like all
the others. Steady, steady, okay, and, action!"

And with
that she bumped into the back of him pretending to trip. He spilt some of his
drink down his fancy silk tie and as Lucy returned to the upright position,
holding one of her heels aloft as if she had removed the guilty article for
reprimand, she apologized profusely and began wiping his tie down for him.

"I'm
so, so sorry," she went on and on, "I can have that cleaned for you
if you like, it looks expensive. I can pay for it if it doesn't come up like
new, would you like...." and he stopped her there. He smiled and in a very
forward manner put a finger to her lips and said, "It’s fine, accidents
happen, don't worry, I've got a wardrobe full of these."

Lucy
thanked him for his politeness and apologized once more before making a
submissive departure back to her friends. Upon returning she budged them all
round in their seats so she could end up facing her imminent conquest for the
occasional exchange of smiles and politeness.

Time
passed and Lucy caught his eye again. She decided to raise the game a notch and
lifted her glass to him in a questioning gesture to see if she could offer him
a drink. Whether he took it the wrong way or not, she didn't know, but he
nodded to her then headed straight for the bar. To her embarrassment, and
absolute amazement, over he came with a Gin and Tonic in a tall glass with ice.

"Is
this what you were after?" he said, unexpectedly finding room on the chair
next to Lucy as the others made space. Lucy apologized again, as she tried to
explain how she was
offering
a drink,
not requesting one.

"I
know," he said, "I
just
thought it was easier
this way, since I was already by the bar."

"How
did you
.....?
"

"I
know the barman and he said this is what you were on. Hope it’s just how you
like it?"

"Er,
yes, but I thought you were with all your friends."

"I
am. They can survive without me for a few minutes, though, whilst I introduce
myself."

"Luke,"
he said, "Luke Banner. Professional silk tie mannequin and pathway blocker
extraordinaire."

"Delighted,
yet embarrassed, to meet your acquaintance, Sir," she said. Then extending
the back of her hand, she followed up with, "Lucy. Lucy Drummond, part
time high heel stunt woman and professional Temp Secretary."

The
girls around the table burst out laughing at the 'Thespian' experience
unfolding before them before one of them pulled his sleeve saying, "Don't
touch her, she's damaged goods."

"Not
now," interrupted Lucy, "Don't pay any attention to her. She's just
jealous you bought me a drink. She's a lush you know. Professional too!"
and they all fell about laughing again.

"Sorry,
Luke, we're a bit piddly, and you're not really seeing me, I mean us, at our
best" and with her cleverest 'come on without coming on' manner she added,
"Do you come here regularly? Sorry, that sounded like a cheap chat up
line." Lucy put her hand lightly on his thigh and started again, "I'd
like to return the favour some time and buy you a drink. If I can't buy you a
tie, that is. When are you likely to frequent this establishment again?"

"We're
in here quite often, probably tomorrow even, how about then, then?"

"I
think I can manage that. Should I bring this rabble with me?" she added,
taking full charge of this 'chat up' situation.

"She's
good, isn't she?" Luke said turning to Lucy's entourage for agreement.
"How to ask a guy if he's dating without saying it, eh? Actually you can all
come if you’re available. I don't succumb to pressure that easy, and all my
other wives, over there, don't mind anyway."

"Right,"
said Lucy, "it’s a date, or rather its not a date, its just a drink."
She rubbed his thigh a little then let him go, knowing 'full well' he got the
message.

"See
you tomorrow night then," he said and politely left their table to return
to his own social gathering, some of whom were straining over their shoulders
to see what, or rather who was keeping him. The sexual 'sizing up' and the 'eye
to eye skirmishes' between groups continued for the next half hour or so,
before our young ladies decided it
was
prudent to
leave.

Reconvening
the following day, at the same time and the same place, our bevy of provocative
agents set up camp at the tall tables.
A bold manoeuvre,
since it left nothing hidden, or to chance, about their intentions to engage
the locals.

Eventually
the object of their intentions arrived. This time, quite obviously via the
front entrance and arm in arm with a striking young lady he was clearly
enamoured with. His crowd made their way over to another of the tall tables
whilst one of the guys ordered drinks.

Lucy
knew her challenge had just escalated, but she remembered what Jody had said
about this
not
needing to be rushed.
It didn't matter if this took a while and the objective was not to get laid,
but to get a job offering. She pulled back her jealousy a notch and returned
Luke's smile when he engaged her from a distance.

Time
passed by, along with a few more drinks, and other than the occasional cursory,
and going nowhere, glances Lucy was bored with her challenge. She couldn't
compete in the uniform stakes, since the girls with Luke and his party were all
wearing tailored business outfits and some very expensive shoes. She would
always have the upper hand, though, in the straight-to-the-point, flesh and
fantasy world in which she lived. Luke would not be able to refuse her once she
started and, casting Jody's instructions to the wind, she consciously decided
to gamble and go for gold. She was not about to beat around the bush and she
didn't want to wait.

As luck
would have it, Luke's bladder eventually got the better of him and he made his
way through the tables. Lucy grabbed him on his way past. She couldn't tell whether
he was embarrassed for bringing company to their rendezvous or simply not
interested any more in engaging her. She extended two fingers to him with her
shiny new business card betwixt then moved to whisper in his ear. He bent down
to her face level and she looked over his shoulder back at his now staring
'female company' and with straight face quietly asked him, "Have you ever
thrown your hot, steaming, secretary over your desk and fucked her senseless in
the middle of the day?" And without waiting for a response she added,
"Take my card, I play my secretary role very well. What the boss needs, he
gets."

The card
read:

Lucy
Drummond

Senior
Administrator and P.A.

Professional
Temp Solutions

Luke's
eyebrows went up, he didn't quite know how to react but looked at Lucy, and the
card and back again, and said, "Thanks, I might just do that."

And she
replied, "You should. I'm good at what I do. Let me know when you need to
fill a space."

She was
trying not to overdo the double entendres but couldn't quite hold back. Letting
go of his suit sleeve she smoothed it out and allowed him on his merry way to
the bathroom. On his way back she caught his eye and gave him the 'pointed
finger and thumb to ear' telephone signal and mouthed the words "Call me."

"My
work here is done," she announced to the others and, proud as punch,
ordered a round of drinks and dropped the subject for the night.