To Seek a Master

by Monica Belle

  She was smiling sleepily as she sat down at her work station, and hoping that Mr Henderson wasn’t going to demand anything that would require her full concentration. He didn’t, instead telling her that he would be entertaining the head of purchasing from Barrington Barnes to lunch and leaving her in charge of the office.

  The day passed as lazily as she had hoped, with only one curious incident. An email came through to confirm an order, which she was obliged to discuss with Mr Bannerjee. She put her chin up as she entered accounts, as usual, intent on conveying her utter contempt for Brian and Dave’s remarks. This time they had placed a litter bin in the centre of the aisle, forcing her to step over it, but Brian paid no attention to her whatsoever, apparently intent on his computer screen, while Dave let out a muted but distinctly dirty snigger. It was the same when she came back, only this time she allowed herself the luxury of calling them a pair of juvenile cretins as she stepped over the bin. Both of them sniggered.

  Their behaviour was still preying on her mind as she walked to the station, and she was pleased to see Charles already there, with his briefcase on her favourite window seat in order to reserve it for her. He listened sympathetically as she explained what had happened, finishing with an appeal to his understanding of human nature.

  ‘You always seem to be able to read my mind, so what do you think?’

  Charles gave a thoughtful frown before replying, his voice low to avoid any risk of being overheard.

  ‘I think they are a couple of dirty little urchins, and that you would do best to ignore them.’

  ‘I’ve been ignoring them for years. It only makes them worse, particularly Brian. I’ve never been nasty to him. Even when he tried to chat me up at my first Christmas party I let him down gently. He seems to resent my existence.’

  ‘There we are then. You rejected him and instead of accepting that the two of you are incompatible he grew resentful. Typical behaviour of the beta male.’

  ‘Beta male? More like zeta male.’

  ‘The last letter of the Greek alphabet is omega.’

  ‘Omega male then, but my version sounds better.’

  ‘More rhythmic, certainly. Tell me something, Laura. How would you feel about one or both of these men seeing you naked, or catching some intimate glimpse of your body perhaps?’

  ‘I’d feel sick, and angry.’

  ‘And yet you enjoyed the moment when a complete stranger caught you bare chested at the weekend?’

  ‘That was different. They’re creeps. No, men never seem to understand that. It’s … it’s hard to explain. I like to feel attractive to men, but they’ve put themselves outside the box.’

  ‘Because they are unattractive to you?’

  ‘No, it’s not like that. The guy who passed us the other night might have looked like Quasimodo, but it was still exciting. If he’d been Brian I’d have wanted to curl up in a ball.’

  ‘I see. So is it that you don’t see them as men, in the sense of your sexual opposite, that they’ve betrayed their role as men.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so. Something like that.’

  ‘I think I understand, in which case I really do urge that you ignore them, for your own peace of mind.’

  ‘I can’t! You might be able to do that, because you’re so in control. I want to know what’s going on. You know something, don’t you?’

  Charles drew a sigh.

  ‘No, but I suspect something. What was in the bin?’

  ‘I don’t know, rubbish. Why would I look in a litter bin?’

  ‘Exactly. You wouldn’t think of inspecting the contents of a litter bin, ever, which makes it the perfect hiding place.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘A camera.’

  It took Laura a fraction of a second for what he was saying to sink in before she spoke, aloud.

  ‘But I’ve got no knickers on!’

  Her face had begun to colour even as Darcy, the Grey Man, Mr Brown, Miss Scarlett, Hovis Boy and several others turned to look at her.

  Charles had insisted that he was only guessing, but Laura was convinced that he was right. Not only did his theory fit the facts to perfection, but it was all too easy to imagine Brian and Dave planting a camera to peer up girls’ skirts. Her first thought, at least once she had got over the first agonising embarrassment of revealing that she had no knickers on to an entire carriage of commuters, was to report them for sexual harassment. Unfortunately she had no proof, as they were far too sneaky to leave any incriminating evidence around.

  Yet the thought of them gloating over pictures of her naked bottom and sex was enough to make her grind her teeth in anger, and made worse by an unpleasant certainty that merely looking would not be enough. Once they were alone they would be pulling their dirty little cocks over her body, and no doubt imagining themselves taking out their lust on her. Something had to be done.

  Charles had suggested that she attempt to rise above it, but had refused to make it an order, which she would have tried to obey. As it was she found herself scheming from the moment he got out at Ely. Somehow it had to be possible to catch them red handed, or to find the picture and take it to Mrs Jeffries, the head of personnel. If they tried the same trick again it would be easy, a simple matter of picking up the litter bin and showing the camera to the rest of the accounts department. Otherwise it would be more difficult.

  The following day she put a pair of knickers in her bag and put them on when she arrived at EAS, just in case. It was easy to contrive an excuse to visit accounts, but while Brian gave her a look that sent the blood rushing to her face, the litter bin was where it belonged under his desk. Frustrated and embarrassed, she returned to her office, now haunted by the look in his eyes, not of mischief and lust as usual, but of a dirty, squalid longing, while Dave’s snigger had seem disturbingly meaningful. Evidently they’d seen what they wanted, and would not be caught out so easily.

  Laura returned to her scheming. Brian would be the ringleader, she was sure, and the one to keep the picture hidden, because both she and Charles had been sure it would not be destroyed. The camera would have to be quite advanced if it could be operated remotely and was almost certainly digital. That meant that the image would be stored electronically on at least one device, but probably not the network at EAS. She had also seen Brian using a laptop in the canteen, and there had to be a good chance that the image was stored on that. It was tempting to accuse him and demand to inspect the laptop, but if the image wasn’t there she would just look ridiculous. First she had to make sure it was there.

  She considered setting off the fire alarms and stealing the laptop before going out to the assembly point, but had to dismiss the scheme as impractical, not least because it was certain to get her sacked. When she spoke to Charles he agreed and once again urged her to rise above it, but by that evening she had thought out a better method of getting at his laptop with minimal risk to herself.

  On the Friday morning she used the computer in the copying room to send out an anonymous email to Brian and others, claiming that one of the girls working as temps had been persuaded to streak, running across the yard at lunchtime in knickers and bra. A dozen things might have gone wrong, but none did. By lunchtime the accounts department was deserted, and as Laura had hoped, Brian’s laptop was in his desk.

  She turned it on, only to find herself confronted with a demand for a password. The hint was ‘Leggy Laura doesn’t wear’, which left a sick feeling in her tummy despite her instant triumph. Her fingers were shaking so badly she could barely hit the keys as she typed in what she was sure would be the password – ‘knickers’. It was rejected.

  A single, nervous glance to the door and she tried again – ‘underwear’. Again it was rejected. She swore, stabbing frantically at the keyboard as she tried to think what word Brian would use for women’s underwear – ‘knicks’, ‘undies’, ‘briefs’, ‘panties’, …

  The screen changed, an explosion of colours clearing gradually to leave a picture of so
me powerful sports car with a silicone-assisted blonde in a bikini draped across the bonnet. She began to search his picture folders, only to discover that they contained several thousand pornographic images which would take hours to search through. Now close to panic, she called up a search, typing the single word ‘Laura’ into the box and biting her lip and the computer set to work.

  It took just moments, an item coming up almost immediately, listed as a JPG with the name ‘Leggy Laura upskirt’. She clicked on it, now sick to the stomach but also triumphant as the picture appeared, of a view clear up her office skirt, showing her stocking covered legs and bare flesh beyond, her thighs, the tuck of her bottom, and her sex. Every intimate pink fold had been captured in appalling detail, and to make it worse she was plainly wet, no doubt from memories of her weekend.

  ‘The dirty little bastard! Right.’

  She stood up, determined to take the laptop straight to Mrs Jeffries, only to hesitate. It was not the sort of picture she was keen to show around, let alone to the prim, fussy head of personnel. Worst still, Brian might simply deny that the picture was of her, as her plain grey-wool office skirt, stockings and suspender belt proved nothing, and nor did the small area of plain white ceiling or the fuzzy arc of the litter bin edge. The only way she could prove beyond doubt that the picture was of her would be to lift her skirt, take down her knickers and allow Mrs Jeffries to compare her vulva with the picture. It didn’t bear thinking about, and while Brian would be booted out of the office before Laura was inspected he would know what was happening. Even if he and Dave got the sack the story would be around the office in minutes, an unbearable humiliation, and not the nice sort.

  Laura cursed, hesitating as she weighed her need for justice and revenge against the awful cost, before deciding that Charles was right. She would delete the picture but do nothing, or better still, format the hard drive. Her mouth was set in a hard line as she called up the commands she needed, setting the laptop to destroy its own software, Brian’s vast collection of smut, the appalling picture and any others he might have taken, along with copies.

  The laptop was still running as she returned it to his drawer, but she knew it could only be so long before somebody came back, even if Brian himself remained in the canteen waiting to watch a streak that would never happen. He was sure to guess anyway, but would be no more able to do anything about it than she had been about him. That felt good, but not good enough, and as she walked back to her office she was conscious of a growing sense of disappointment. He had spied on her, intruding in the most obnoxious manner conceivable, and to all intents and purposes he was going to get away with it.

  She tried to swallow her feelings, wishing she was as strong and self-assured as Charles, but it wouldn’t work. The more she tried the more aggrieved she felt, and only the need to work kept her from storming back to accounts and accusing Brian to his face. It had been bad enough before, when she merely suspected, but far worse to actually see the picture of her most intimate parts displayed in a detail more appropriate to her gynaecologist than a lover and to know that Brian and Dave had been gloating over her, probably masturbating over her. At length Mr Henderson’s calm, authoritative voice broke through her angry thoughts.

  ‘Are you all right, Laura?’

  ‘Just a slight headache, sir. I think I need some fresh air.’

  ‘Have a few minutes, by all means, but would you mind taking these instructions over to Mr Gallagher in production first?’

  ‘Certainly, Mr Henderson.’

  Laura took the file he was holding out, grateful for the distraction but not too happy about having to go the full length of the walkway above the shop floor to reach Mr Gallagher’s office. That meant running the gauntlet of the workers beneath, but as she reached the door leading onto the walkway she saw that it was worse than she’d expected. Brian himself was on the shop floor, talking to two men she didn’t recognise. They were a fraction to one side, in a perfect position to see up her skirt. She hesitated, thinking of waiting until he’d gone, but the three of them were talking and might not notice her at all.

  She hurried forward, walking as fast as she could, although the metallic click of her heels on the walkway seemed loud even above the throb and hum of machinery. One of the storeroom doors was open, forcing her to stop out to the edge of the walkway just as she reached the point above Brian. She held her breath, hurrying on, only for his voice ring out from beneath her, thick with mockery.

  ‘There’s a view and half, eh lads, I can see right up to heaven.’

  One of the workers laughed, the other wolf-whistled as Laura hurried past, her face now scarlet. She had to talk to Mr Gallagher for several minutes in order to explain exactly what the clients wanted, and was praying Brian had moved on as she left. He hadn’t, but had been joined by Dave and another worker, all of them smirking openly. She looked out at the long perforated steel walkway to the safety of the door at the far end and began to walk, her thighs close together, taking tiny fast steps, but as she drew close the men began to chant.

  ‘Leg show! Leg show! Leg show!’

  Laura tried to walk faster still, her chin lifted, but her defiance only served to encourage them.

  ‘Nice pins, love.’

  ‘Come on, give us a bit of a show. It’s only your legs.’

  ‘I don’t want to see leg. I want to see cunt.’

  Laura stopped, her face burning, her anger pushing up past the point at which she could hold herself in. The storeroom door was still open, showing line upon line of five litre tanks of the metallic blue paint that was a trademark for the company switchgear, guaranteed proof against all weather for ten years. She was on automatic as she went in, selected a tank, levered the lid open with her door key and returned to the walkway, leaning over the edge.

  ‘Hey, boys, here’s something for you to remember me by.’

  Brian looked up. Dave looked up. The three workmen looked up. Laura tipped the can, pouring out the full contents onto their heads.

  19

  THE SIGHT OF Brian and Dave with their heads shaved and their skin still showing a subtle azure tint almost compensated for being called up in front of the disciplinary committee. Laura even managed to daydream for a little as they talked at her, imagining the men being sent out of the room and Mrs Jeffries and the other two women on the committee awarding her six strokes of the cane on the bare bottom for what she’d done. Indeed, Mrs Jeffries looked quite capable of doing it, but her sympathies lay entirely with Laura.

  It wasn’t even necessary to admit to the photograph incident, as she had more than a dozen witnesses to Brian’s behaviour over a period of four years, which Mrs Jeffries considered more than enough provocation for Laura’s act of vengeance. After nearly an hour Brian and the other men were given the option of withdrawing their complaint or facing a counter complaint of sexual harassment, terms both they and Laura accepted. Instead of the sack, which Laura had expected, she was given a formal warning.

  She was still less than happy as she left the boardroom, where the hearing had taken place. It was all very well being the toast of the entire female staff of EAS, and not a few of the males, but Brian had a reputation for being vindictive and was not likely to accept what had happened as fair. They were bound to meet, which would be unpleasant even if he kept his comments to himself in the future, and she was extremely glad to leave when five o’clock came around. Charles was already on the train, and she found herself smiling despite her ill feelings, and pleased to be able to talk to somebody openly.

  ‘I’m afraid I’ve been a very naughty girl.’

  ‘You have a confession?’

  ‘Yes. I poured five litres of paint over somebody’s head, Brian, who I was telling you about the other day.’

  ‘I was right then?’

  ‘You were right. He’d hidden the camera, exactly the way you said, and he’d put the image on his laptop. I wiped the hard drive, but I didn’t know if he had a copy and he’d seen anyway, wh
ich is what matters. Then he and some other men were teasing me, and there was the paint pot, and well …’

  ‘You poured it over them?’

  ‘Yes, from a walkway about ten feet over their heads. You should have seen it!’

  Charles laughed, giving Laura a warm feeling. She laid her head on his shoulder, indifferent to the people around them. He began to stroke her hair, now silent, letting Laura relax and allow her cares to begin to fade. At Ely he stayed on the train and Laura knew that they would be spending the night together without the need for discussion or an invitation.

  At King’s Lynn he adapted himself to her evening routine, joining her as she walked Smudge down the river bank and back through the fields, then cooking a delicious pasta from ingredients picked up in her corner shop. By the time they had finished and were sharing the last of a bottle of red wine on her sofa, her feelings had mellowed sufficiently to allow her to enjoy the thought of accepting the consequences of her behaviour.

  ‘I suppose I deserve to be punished for what I did to Brian?’

  Charles looked surprised.

  ‘Absolutely not. I consider your reaction fully justified and, besides, the situation was nothing to do with me.’

  ‘Oh. I thought that you’d keep an eye on me in general, if you see what I mean?’

  ‘I do, and if that’s how you want it to be, then I’m happy to take on the responsibility.’

  ‘Yes. I’d like that.’

  ‘Very well. In a relationship like ours, it is important to have formal boundaries, which both of us agree on, in writing.’

  ‘That sounds … OK.’

  ‘It is essential, especially if you wish to commit to me completely.’

  ‘I do.’