by E V Daymuir
‘Mr Duggie, Signorina Penny, we have some wonderful specials this evening, but before you choose, please, have a bottle of my best a champagne – on a the house.’ Duggie smiled a smile, which was not quite as yellow as usual. ‘You really shouldn’t Roberto, but thank you, we will drink to your health.’
On his way back to the front of the restaurant, Roberto surreptitiously removed the reserved sign from Mr and Mrs Duggie’s favourite table. That would have been a big mistake. He returned with a bottle of champagne and three glasses, removing the cork, with a satisfying pop he filled the glasses and twisted the bottle into an ice bucket which appeared at his elbow. He raised his glass in a toast. ‘To you both and a warm a welcome to you Signorina Penny, I hope a to see you many times in a my little restaurant.’
They were on the antipasto when a waiter showed two women to the table on the other side of the screen. One of the women was loud and well spoken. Duggie peered through the screen, she looked vaguely familiar. The other woman he recognised, which was quite a coincidence as, having agreed not to discuss work, they were talking about the Rugby Club. He put a finger to his lips, took a scrap of paper from his wallet and scribbled – 'the blonde is Peter Bunford’s wife'. Penny nodded, turned the paper over and wrote – 'Don‘t know either of them. How about a shag?' Duggie read her message, smiled and whispered. ‘It’s only 15 minutes to my place, but there’s the main course to come and Roberto’s tiramisu is too good to miss.’ Penny pouted like a spoilt child and replied loudly. ‘Don’t want tiramisu – want a shag.’ Duggie winced and peered through the screen. Julie Bunford and her companion were holding hands, oblivious to anyone else in the restaurant. Penny followed his gaze, took the paper back and wrote – 'They’re lesbians. I still want a shag.'
Roberto arrived with the Barolo to accompany the Veal Milanese. Plates and dishes were quietly and efficiently brought to the table by waiters who took their lead from Roberto. As the waiters silently moved away, Penny smiled at Duggie, curled her long fingers around the pepper pot and moved them in a way which produced an instant reaction in Duggie’s trousers. He leant towards her. ‘We could skip the tiramisu.’ She laughed and he stopped wondering what Julie Bunford was playing at.
‘Oh, for god’s sake Julie, stop moaning about Travel Plan. It’s history.’ The comment rose above the general hubbub in the restaurant causing Penny and Duggie to stop mid sip as they drank a toast with the excellent Barolo. Penny put her glass down, reached for her handbag and took out her shorthand notebook. The conversation on the next table revealed everything Duggie wanted to know.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
Peter Bunford had suspected Julie wasn’t happy for a sometime, but it never occurred to him that his wife might prefer women. Last evening though, she had made it very plain she had found her true sexuality. In hindsight he could recognise the signs, but that made no difference, it was pointless trying to persuade her to change her mind. She was obviously happy to be a lesbian and the way she had spoken about it left little doubt she had shared a sexual experience with Lucy, her partner in the cleaning business. Following her news, he decided not to say anything about leaving Meltcon and working at the rugby club, it was none of her business now. What did worry him was how he was going to break the news of his leaving to Lydia. He squatted down to place a hand on a bearing casing. Jeez! He snatched his hand away; the casing was red hot! Niggard was pushing hard for extra production, but, like it or not, the line had to be shut down.
Simon Niggard was drooling over his figures on the computer. Only 4.30am, and he had smashed the shift target. The 90 minutes to the end of the shift would give him an unassailable lead. The Production Director’s position was as good as his. No one could match his record.
It took several seconds for the silence to register. He looked out through the window. The line had stopped! That idiot Bunford was walking down the line from the power breaker. Flinging open the office door he screamed at him. ‘Bunford! My office – now!’
Peter Bunford pretended not to hear and reaching the hot bearing case he crouched next to it to consider the best course of action. Working on it until after it cooled down would be out of the question. He slid under the line to find the drive spindle, where it emerged from the casing, glowing red hot. He slid back out and stood up to face Simon Niggard who was running down the line, gesticulating wildly and commanding everyone to remain at their stations. He arrived, out of breath and red with rage.
‘What do you think you’re doing Bunford? No one stops this line without my say so.’ Peter Bunford calmly looked him in the eye. ‘There was no other option. It’s a case of stopping the line for minor repairs now, or letting it run hot and have it out of production for a whole shift – maybe longer.’
‘I don’t care if it’s shut down for one shift, one day, or one week – it doesn’t shut down on my watch. Haven’t you worked that out yet, you idiot?’ Unable to control his temper, Simon Niggard made the mistake of banging his fist against Peter Bunford’s chest as he screamed. ‘Switch it back on, you idiot. Switch it back on – now!’ Peter Bunford grabbed his wrist, squeezing it hard enough to make him open his hand, then pushing him down, held his palm against the hot casing. ‘Don’t call me an idiot, you moron. If you think I’m going to switch on with bearings that hot, you can think again.’ He let go when Simon Niggard screamed and looked at his reddened hand through tear rimmed eyes. Then he sneered and crowed triumphantly. ‘You have assaulted a senior manager. That’s an instant dismissal offence. You’re fired Bunford – fired! Get your things and leave now!’
Peter Bunford smiled at him. ‘You’re a bit late for that Niggard; my resignation letter went into Human Resources before I came on the shift.’ He turned and walked away and as he approached the Quality Control room, he heard the line start up again.
Lydia was surprised to see him; he was usually busy on the line towards the end of a shift. He grinned and closed the door. ‘How are things?’ She picked up a Meltcon Bar from the bench she was working on. ‘Not good; look at this, another misshape. I’m not supposed to let more than.05% through, but Niggard has the line moving so fast its shot up to over 7%. I’ve tried telling him, but he won’t budge, you know what he’s like.’
‘Certainly do, Line’s running red hot. Switched off without his permission, so he fired me – instant dismissal’
Lydia bristled. ‘He can’t do that.’
‘Well, he thinks he can, but it’s too late anyway. I've already handed in my notice.’
Lydia voice betrayed disappointment. ‘You never told me you were leaving?’ Peter put his hands on her waist and lifted her onto the bench. ‘I’m sorry; I didn’t have time to tell you. Everything changed yesterday evening.’ She took off her glasses and wiped her eyes, before putting them back on again and looking intently at him. ’I don’t think I’ll want to continue with this job if you’re not around Pete, what changed?’
‘I was offered a job at the Rugby Club and didn’t have the opportunity to discuss it with Julie until she came back from taking Becky to Nottingham.’
‘She agreed to you working at the Rugby Club?’
‘No – she had news to tell me first. She’s leaving me to live with the partner in her cleaning business. She wants a lesbian relationship.’ Lydia took off her glasses again and they kissed.
*****
Simon Niggard smiled with satisfaction; the line was running at full speed again, he watched for several seconds through his office window, before turning his attention to the computer. He had the report to write to justify Bunford's instant dismissal. The assault was unprovoked – he had witnesses – he would lay it on thick and heavy – he was a past master at twisting the truth to suit his own ends. Bunford would wish he had never crossed him. He typed the report, sniggering to himself as he did so and was in the process of emailing it to Human Resources, when the strident ringing of the fire alarm jolted him back to the real world. He looked through the window to see a small fire n
ear the suspect casing, quickly aborting the email and added – 'Despite serious overheating, Bunford ignored my order to stop the line.' He clicked on send and watched it connect and go through. When he looked out at the line again, the fire had taken hold. Bunford was there with a fire extinguisher, but it was spreading along the line towards the glucose vats. Could they explode? He wasn’t about to take a chance. He sent a final production update to the main computer before shutting everything down; then grabbing his attaché case and jacket, fled from the office.
He joined a stream of workers heading towards despatch and the loading bay. The only way out now the fire had taken hold. He ordered them into a line to save as many Meltcon Bars as they could, exhorting them to greater efforts from the safety of the loading bay. More than half of the packed cases had been cleared when Bunford came along and told everyone that the fire was fuelled by oxygen drawn in through despatch. They should all leave as he was about to close the shutters. To Simon Niggard’s chagrin, they allowed Bunford to countermand his order. Most jumped down into the loading bay; those that couldn’t filed out in an orderly fashion through the emergency exit door. With everyone out, Peter Bunford smashed the glass and hit the large red emergency button to close and lock the steel roller shutters. As they rumbled down, he ran to fetch Lydia from the Quality Control Room.
Outside in the loading bay an angry Simon Niggard watched the workers as they ran through the lorry park to the designated assembly point. After everyone had gone, he crept up the steps to the emergency exit door and using his master key, locked it shut.
When Peter returned with Lydia it did not take long to realise they were trapped! He put a comforting arm around Lydia.
‘It seems the only way out it is through the fire. We can stay here and hope the firemen manage to get to us, or make a dash for it.’ Lydia was very calm. ‘I don’t think the firemen will be looking for anyone. Niggard knew we were in here and he’s the only one with a key to lock this door from the outside.’ Peter nodded his agreement. ‘Unfortunately, I think you’re right. We both know Niggard only too well.’
‘What about a way out through to the next line? `
‘The rest of the factory is automatically isolated when the fire alarm goes off. All the interconnecting doors will be locked.’
‘I could try emergency services. I’ll use the phone in Quality Control.`
‘Good idea, but just in case it doesn‘t work, I’ll get my mobile.’ He sprinted towards the men’s locker room as she ran to Quality Control. Smoke which had been pushed away by the air dragged in through the loading bay was becoming a problem. She closed the door behind her before picking up the phone; it was dead. Determined not to panic, she held a handkerchief over her mouth and nose and calmly walked towards the men’s locker room. They met in the doorway; he was carrying his bike leathers, gloves and helmet, together with several overall coats. ‘Any luck? ` She shook her head. ‘Phone’s dead, what about your mobile?’
He gave her a rueful smile. ‘Must have left it in one of the panniers on the bike.’
She coughed as a curl of smoked drifted around them. ‘So what do we do now Pete?’
‘This way, I’ve got an idea.’ She followed him into the locker room. He closed the door behind them.
Dudley Wink was in the Royal Mail Sorting Office when he heard the news. This was too good an opportunity for any photographer to miss. In the half light the glow from the Meltcon fire cast flickering shadows across the car park as he ran to get his camera. He arrived at the front entrance to the Meltcon factory before the fire engines and began taking pictures. They were disappointing – he needed more drama. The fire engines arrived in an urgent clamour and a fire officer was swiftly on the case, moving onlookers away. Dudley managed to evade his sweep by crouching behind a bush. Sparks flew from the roof of the building as fire burst through – that was better. He assumed everyone was out, but just in case, kept his camera focussed on the entrance.
Peter gave Lydia a gentle kiss before putting his helmet on and pulling down the visor. He pulled the wet overall across her face, checked that she was securely wrapped, picked her up and walked out from the locker room. The walk turned into a jog, the jog to a loping run and the run into the sprint of his life as they entered the flames.
Crouching for too long had given Dudley Wink camera shake. He stood up. Flames were licking around the Meltcon sign. He zoomed in on it; that was a great image. Then he heard someone shouting to tell the Chief Fire Officer that not all the Meltcon workers were accounted for. Two were still in there! He refocused on the entrance – you never know your luck -and luck was with him. Peter Bunford ran out through the flames, clutching a scorched white bundle, part of the Melton sign collapsed in a shower of sparks, and Dudley’s photograph captured the moment when he jinked to the left, to move his precious bundle out of harms way and sprinted for safety.
Firemen were quickly on the scene to hose them down. Lydia emerged from her cocoon of wet overalls completely unscathed. Peter’s leathers, although badly scorched, had been enough to protect him. A fire officer helped take off his helmet, which had warped in the heat. Paramedics wanted to put him onto a stretcher, but he saw Simon Niggard, full of self importance, talking to the Chief Fire Officer.
Great! Another superb action photograph captured – the split second when Peter Bunford’s fist broke Simon Niggard’s nose.
A reporter for the Hamsworth Bugle arrived as the ambulance left the scene with three casualties, two suffering from smoke inhalation, and made it’s noisy way to Hamsworth General Hospital.
‘Hello Ed, looking for a story? `
Ed Templeman turned to see Dudley Wink walking towards him. He knew Dudley well, having interviewed him several times about his wildlife photography. ‘What do you know then Dud?’
Dudley grinned at him. ‘Don’t know how and where the fire started Ed, but I took some pictures you could be interested in.’ Dudley brought the picture of Peter Bunford running out through the flames onto the viewing screen and handed it to Ed.
‘That’s a fantastic shot Dud. Who is it?’
‘Peter Bunford, or something like that. Didn’t get the name of the woman he was carrying. Pretty little thing though.’ Ed Templeman clicked back to the burning sign and the establishing shots, then looked at the scene in front of him. The factory was still burning, but the flames were no where near as dramatic against the dawn sky as they were when Dudley captured his pictures. He would get a photographer down for some aftermath shots.
‘We can use these Dud; might even be able to get some of them syndicated.’
Dudley took the camera back and switched it off. ‘That would be great. I’ll drop them into your office this afternoon.’
Ed Templeman grunted. ‘We’re talking national, if not international news here, Dud. I’ll need to take them back to my office now if we’re to do anything with them.’
Blinded by the thought of his photographs reaching a worldwide audience, Dudley handed the camera over, forgetting the compromising pictures he had secretly taken in the penthouse.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
Natasha awoke when Debbie crept back into bed. She was still lying on her back in Barrie’s body, which had been hemmed in all night by her own body and Debbie’s. Debbie giggled as she pulled back the sheet and saw Barrie’s erect penis. She snuggled up to Barrie’s body, slowly moving her right hand down until it made contact. Her fingers caressed the head. Natasha was pretty sure that even Barrie’s ‘old boy’ would not be able to perform again, not after the number of calls it had answered throughout the night. It was only erect now because she, or rather, he, needed a pee.
‘Sorry Debs, but I need to go for a pee.’ Debbie smiled and raised herself on one elbow to look over Barrie’s body at the recumbent figure on the other side. ’What do you think Tash, shall we let him go or make good use of it?’ There was no reply; Barrie had guzzled more champagne than Natasha’s body could take without getting extremely tipsy
. Thankful that she would not have to cope with the hangover, Natasha answered for her own body. ‘Natasha’s dead to the world, she’ll need to sleep it off. How’s your head this morning Debs? Debbie giggled and gripped the head of Barrie’s penis between her thumb and first two fingers. ‘Not throbbing like yours.’ Natasha groaned. ‘I really must have a pee.’
Debbie looked intently at Barrie. Natasha thought she detected a strange glint in her eyes and wondered if she suspected anything; then she remembered seeing the same look last night. It was the look of lust, she was lusting after Barrie; or to be more precise, his cock, as they had agreed to refer to it.
Natasha had experienced Barrie’s ejaculation several times during the night, but it was nowhere near as many times as the girls had achieved, and they were so noisy. They seemed to excite each other, so when one finished the other took over. Amazingly, for hour on end, Barrie’s penis had maintained an erection. Eventually, it was Barrie, in her body, who gave up, collapsing onto the bed, much the worse for drink. Debbie had enthusiastically carried on and the last thing Natasha could remember was Debbie trying to coax Barrie’s penis for one more time. Now she was at it again, and she thought she only liked girls.
When Debbie removed her hand from Barrie’s penis Natasha thought she was about to let Barrie get out of bed, but before she could make a move, Debbie lifted a leg over and Natasha felt her warm, moist vagina rubbing against Barrie’s penis. She looked down past Debbie’s swaying breasts and felt the erection stiffen. It was hurting again. ‘I really must have a pee Debs.’ Debbie shook her head as she lifted herself onto the throbbing member. ‘Sorry Barrie, but a girl has her needs and after last night, you may not be up to it after a pee.’ Natasha groaned as she felt Debbie’s vaginal muscles grip the top of Barrie’s penis before relaxing to allow penetration. She slowly moved back and forth grinning as she did so. ‘Do you think you’ll come Barrie?’ Natasha answered truthfully. ‘I don’t know, I’ve never done it when I’ve been bursting for a pee before.’ Debbie‘s mechanical movements though were having the desired effect, she began to moan.
