by Drew Black
"That'll have to do." Maggie said fluffing her hair out and cursing under her breath.
"You look fine. Listen Maggie, I'll be making a move, give you a chance to get your tea and relax. Thanks for inviting me up, I'll see you in the morning." Tom said getting up.
"You don't have to leave if you don't want to. Stay over if you like, but I don't want sex, it's just nice to have some company for a change. But seriously, no pressure, it's entirely up to you, I won't be offended if want to get off."
Tom jangled his car keys in his pocket. "I'd love to stay." he said, "Have you got a phone?"
"Sure, there's one at the end of the hallway."
"Thanks, I won't be a minute."
Maggie let Tom back in her apartment; "I thought you were making me soup?" she said with a grin.
She's so cute Tom thought, I could just eat her; "One soup coming up, would you like a coffee as well?"
"Yes, please." Maggie said going and sitting on the sofa. "You can come again." she quipped, but Tom didn't hear her. Maggie lay back and put her feet up resisting the temptation to close her eyes, just in case she fell asleep.
Tom put Maggie's coffee down on a coaster by her side and handed her, her soup.
"Thanks." she said sitting up, "Come and sit down."
"Do you mind if I put the TV on only Hancock's on and it's my favourite programme."
"Of course not."
Tom went over and switched the set on. "You need to turn the dial at the bottom." Maggie informed him, the picture fuzzed and then came into focus. Sid James was sat at a table. Hancock made some dry observation and Sid greeted it with his trademark laugh. Tom sat down and smiled. "I love this." he said.
Maggie raised her eyes and continued to eat her soup. Her thoughts wandered because Tony and Sid didn't hold the same appeal for her as they obviously did for Tom. He was totally engrossed, but occasionally he'd turn to her to share his amusement, and she'd just smile sweetly back at him. He seemed oblivious to the fact that she didn't share his enthusiasm for these two giants of comedy. It was good to see him laugh though, perhaps he'd not been doing enough of that lately. She put her empty bowl at her side, lay back and put her feet up on his lap. Tom adjusted his position to accommodate them.
"Maggie, Maggie?" Tom said shaking her gently.
"Uh, oh, sorry, I must've dozed off, what time is it?"
"Ten to eleven."
"Time for bed." she said stretching her arms out.
"I'll call it a night too, is it okay if I use your sofa?"
"You don't have to, the bed's big enough for two, I meant what I said earlier though."
Tom nodded. He held out a hand and pulled her to her feet.
"Thanks." Maggie said mussing her hair and yawning. "You use the bathroom first, I'm just going to sort my clothes out for tomorrow."
Tom lay in Maggie's bed, it felt both strange and exciting. It was as though he was a teenager again. The door opened and Maggie came in wearing a nightshirt. "Can you turn the light over the bed on Tom?" she said.
Tom reached up and flicked the light on, and Maggie turned out the main light. "What time do you want to get up?" she asked.
"Six, if that's okay."
"Sure." Maggie altered the clock's alarm, "Can you wake me at six-thirty?"
"Yeah, no problem."
"Okay thanks, you can turn it out now."
Tom flicked out the light and after-images danced on his retinas.
Maggie drew back the bedcovers and got in. "Goodnight." she said.
"Goodnight Maggie." Tom replied.
"You can hold me if you like." She said nestling down and laying with her back towards him.
Tom put his arm around her, and moved closer to her, she smelt clean and fresh. He kissed her hair gently twice, Maggie turned around and they kissed fully. Tom got an instant erection, they kissed tenderly for a long time until Tom slowly moved his hand onto Maggie's right breast. He squeezed it through her cotton nightshirt and stroked his thumb across her erect nipple. Maggie moaned softly. Tom kissed her neck and Maggie responded by lifting her head back. Don't get carried away she told herself, but his kisses were lowering her resistance.
Tom's hand slid under Maggie’s nightshirt, and she shifted her position to free it's material. He caressed her tummy and breasts and she was rapidly losing control. It was only when Tom's hand slid between her legs that she snapped back into reality. She masked his hand with her own. "No Tom," she said getting her breathing under control, "I meant what I said, no sex." Tom removed his hand and shifted his body away from her.
Maggie paused and then reached up and put the light on. Tom looked at her like a baleful puppy, and she had to struggle to resist the urge to laugh. "Don't look so disappointed." she said, "I said I didn't want sex, I didn't say I wouldn't satisfy you. I'm not a tease Tom."
Tom looked into her clear blue eyes but said nothing.
Maggie clicked off the light, and for the next twenty minutes she took complete control of Tom's mind and body, and when she eventually let him climax, he did so with a greater force than he had ever previously experienced.
3
The meeting room at the estate was a very large and airy room, and tonight it was packed to the rafters.
Jack got to his feet to address the audience and the room fell silent. "Welcome everyone to the May meeting of our beloved syndicate, The Burnley Boys, in the year nineteen hundred and sixty-five. We've got quite a lot to get through this evening, so let's get straight to it.
"Firstly, I'd like to congratulate Tom Ford," Jack said turning and smiling at Tom, "and his team who have done us all proud by getting Sounds re-opened on schedule and taking record receipts in its first two weeks of trading."
Everyone clapped, "Does that mean there's a free night in the offing then?" John Sergeant shouted out.
Jack shook his head. "No, you had your free night on opening night. What was it you were telling everyone, you'd left your wallet at home, again? Seriously, I'm only kidding John, I really enjoyed that half you bought me. Anyway, Gerald has the figures, and we'll pass them around later.
“The next item on the agenda is Jessop's Cotton Mill. As most of you are probably aware the mill has undergone a management shakeup recently, and I'd like to hand you over to Tom who is going to explain the finer points of it."
Tom stood up and cleared his throat, "Thanks Jack. Yes, in light of the mills’ poor performance over the last twelve months, we decided that the time had come for a change in management. I will say this though; Bill Jones has put in a valiant amount of effort over the last few years, and I would never say otherwise." Tom paused whilst a small ripple of applause went around the room. "However, we felt it was time for a new line of direction, in order to put the mill firmly back in the black. As you well know, times are not easy in the cotton industry, at the moment, but life's not about making excuses, it's about making money."
A large cheer came from the audience.
"I've never enjoyed telling people that there's no longer a position for them. I'm sure those amongst you who have had direct dealings with me as an employer would vouch for that."
"Here, here." someone called out.
"However, there comes a time when you have to put sentiment to one side, and unfortunately, that time came with the results for the final quarter of the year where the mill made a measly profit of just over a thousand pounds."
Murmurs filled the room. It wasn't unfair to say that most of them had expected worse.
"Although the mill provides us with vital cover for our other businesses, we, me, in particular, cannot sustain another year of the mill making a loss.”
Murmurs of agreement went around the room.
"Therefore, we decided to appoint a new mill manager, and I must add it may not be the only change in key personnel over the coming months, but what I will promise to all the mill management and staff sat here this evening is that everyone will be given a fair chance. The slate has been wiped clean,
and those are not empty words, anyone who performs from here on in will be rewarded. One thing is for sure though, the mill will make money over the course of the coming financial year."
"We bloody hope so." someone shouted which was met with muted laughter.
Tom waited for absolute silence before he continued. "As all of you who work at the mill are already aware the new mill manager is Mr John Sergeant. Would you like to stand up John?”
John stood up and milked the applause.
"Come up here and say a few words," Tom said. "He didn't know that I was going to do this to him, but it serves him right, he only bought me a half, on opening night, as well."
John came up and had his say and the meeting continued. Quilter reported a little movement on the Seedmore Park front, just a bit of a skirmish over a new restaurant that had opened on the border of the two syndicates sphere of operations, but Briggs had finally given way over it though. The Burnley Boys had made record profits this year, more than thirty percent up on the previous year, and fifty per cent up in total since Jack and Tom had taken control of it.
Gerald was going through the syndicate’s yearly figures, breaking them down into layman's terms IE how much was in it for them, when Jack's mind began to wander. Why was it, he thought, when everything was going so well that he didn't feel happy? Everything was okay with Jane; Gerald was back at the helm on the estate. No, his main cause of concern was Tom, Tom just wasn't right at the moment. Dave Jenkins seemed to be gaining more and more influence in the operations division, and Jack didn't like that one bit. He'd never forgiven him for stealing his glasses that time at school, and even though that was a long time ago, in Jack's opinion Jenkins was just as big an asshole today as he was back then. He had to admit though that Tom had done a good job at the club, but then again, he should never have been so involved in it in the first place, but whenever he says anything to Tom about it, he just takes it the wrong way. Helen complains that he's never at home these days and when he is, he's pissed out of his brains. The trouble was, he needed someone he could rely on, especially when he had the likes of Dave Quilter waiting in the wings to capitalise on his every little mistake. Even Harry Robertson seemed to be as thick as thieves with Quilter these days. Yes, he needed the old Tom back, that was the solution to the problem. He had to admit though, he'd done well tonight though; 'life's not about making excuses, it's about making money.' where the fuck did he get that one from? Jack smiled and looked out at the audience before re-focusing on Gerald. Tom hadn't been right for months though, and he didn't think that his relationship with Helen was too steady either. They seemed dead set on having kids until about a year ago, and now it was never mentioned. Thank God for Gerald though, without him he'd really be struggling. Maybe they should get away for a while, just the four of them, a week abroad somewhere, it would do them all a power of good. Yes, that was it, it would give him a chance to talk at length to Tom away from all the hurly-burly that surrounded the syndicate. Could he trust Quilter though. Come on Jack you're being paranoid, he told himself. The syndicate would never turn on him, not whilst it was performing so well, anyway. John Sergeant seemed to have got things under control at the mill, the club was back up and running, the rat run was flourishing. The only fly in the ointment was that that toe-rag Jenkin's tag had won the title for producing the most new business for the third year in succession, only the second tag ever to achieve this feet, the first being Quilter’s. Jack glanced over at Tom who was checking his watch, Jack checked his too, it was getting late. It was about time Gerald wound this up. He'd give him another five minutes he decided and then he'd step in. He coughed quite loudly, this broke Gerald's stride, but only momentarily.
Gerald came home with thirty seconds to spare. Jack clapped loudly, and everyone joined in with him. "Thanks for that Gerald. It was extremely informative."
Gerald nodded in Jack's direction and sat down.
"I think everyone would agree, we had an amazing year last year."
This was greeted by thunderous applause.
"So, long may it continue. It only remains for me to present the John Jessop Trophy for the most successful tag of last year, for the third year in succession, to the team leader of Swallow Tag; Dave Jenkins. Come forward please Dave."
There were whoops of excitement from Jenkin's team as he strutted up to collect the award.
Jack could quite easily have smacked him in the face with it, but he totally concealed his feelings, and shook hands with Jenkins as he handed him the trophy.
As the hall emptied Jack collared Tom. "Can I have a quick word with you Tom?" he asked in between shaking hands with departing syndicate members.
"Can it not wait until tomorrow, it's just that I'm in a rush." Tom replied agitatedly.
"Yeah, of course it can, are you off out with Helen? Mind you I suppose it's a bit late for that."
"Yeah, it is a bit late, and I've got things to do at the club, if that's alright with you?"
"Whoa, hold on a minute Tom, there's no need to bite my head off, I only asked if you were taking your wife out, that's all."
Tom sighed, "Listen, I'm sorry, I'll see you tomorrow, okay."
"See you James, Phil, I'll probably catch both of you in the week." Jack said to a couple of syndicate members.
"No problem Jack, bloody good meeting tonight, by the way." Phil replied.
Jack smiled. He called out to Tom just as he was about to disappear through the door.
Tom stopped and looked back.
"Well done tonight buddy." Jack said.
Tom smiled, raised a hand, and was gone.
4
By September John Sergeant had wiped out the eight thousand deficit from the last quarter of the previous year and Jessop's Cotton Mill had moved tentatively into the black. It was looking like it was going to be another bumper year for the syndicate and the club was booming. Tom was drinking the best part of a bottle of scotch a day, and sometimes two at weekends. He was staying most nights either at his flat at the club or at Maggie’s, and Helen was close to a nervous breakdown.
Tom pulled his Mercedes into the kerb outside Tabley Apartments and turned off its engine. The light was fading fast, a sure sign that winter was approaching. Tom hated the onset of winter because the cold always made his leg ache. He had to admit, there were times he wished that hoist had killed him. He leant forward and lit a cigarette. Part of the end came off and despite Tom's desperate attempts to stop it, it glided down onto the cream leather upholstery of the car’s passenger seat. The burning ash made a singed brown mark. Tom leant against the steering wheel and started to cry. It started off lightly but soon turned into uncontrollable sobs, he cried for more than five minutes. His life was an absolute mess, he thought, he couldn't even make it past breakfast without craving a drink. His marriage was over, he fuckin' hated the syndicate and his role within it, whatever that was supposed to be. The only thing that was keeping him going was Maggie, she was the only person who truly understood him. She never complained about his drinking or nagged at him about anything for that matter. Tom laughed to himself, he'd had a bad day, that's all, everyone had them. The only thing was it was getting difficult to remember the good ones, and even harder to remember the sober ones. He dried his eyes on a tissue. Fuck it, he thought, it'll mend it's only a piece of leather, that's all.
Tom got out of his car and almost fell over the kerb; "Whoops ... fuckin' council." he muttered to himself. He could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on, he felt like shit, maybe this wasn't such a good idea. After all, he hadn't told Maggie he was calling round. Oh, fuck it, he thought, he was here now. He ran a hand through his blonde hair and tried his utmost to compose himself, as he walked up the path to the apartment’s entrance. He stopped and farted; "Oops, better out than in." he said laughing. He began to feel a little better as he examined the address menu and carefully pressed Townsend. After a few seconds Maggie's voice came over the intercom; "Hello, this is Margaret Townsend, who's
calling please?"
"Maggie, it's me, let me in."
"Tom, is that you?"
Tom paused for a second resisting the urge to utter a sarcastic comment. "Yes, it's me." he said with a sigh.
"Okay, come on up." the door opened.
Surprisingly, when the lift doors opened on the second floor Maggie was there to meet him. "Ay-ah." she said carelessly running a hand through her hair.
"Hi, have you got company?" Tom enquired, hoping he was mistaken.
"Yeah, I didn't know you were coming around, it is my night off."
"No problem, I didn't realise that I qualified as one of your work duties."
"Oh Tom, don't be so childish, you know I didn't mean it like that. It's just I'm really tired, you know how crazy it is at the club at the moment." Maggie said with a sigh. Someone engaged the lift and Maggie glanced up at the floor indicator.
"Who've you got around then - spotty-dork?" Tom muttered the last part of his question.
"Pardon? Oh, Julian, you haven't met him yet, I've known him for years."
"Okay, I'll let you go, I never was much of a gooseberry. I'll use the stairs, that lift turns my guts over." Tom said kissing the top of Maggie’s head and opening the door that led to the staircase.
