by Jacqueline Scott
Elizabeth Lane appeared to have everything. She was tall, slim and very attractive but without the false 'beauty queen' look. At school she had excelled at everything she did. She was very bright and had no difficulty whatsoever in gaining the necessary qualifications to enable her to go to Oxford University. At games she was always in the first team and she had ended up as Head Girl. In that role she had been popular but no push-over and it would have been difficult to find any teacher or school colleague who had a bad word to say about her.
If there was anything that the staff at her school or her parents worried about at all it was possibly that her single-mindedness in achieving objectives might be a problem if she came across something that she could not achieve. That was a minor worry, however, and not one that had been tested as yet.
She left school in 1968 and going up to Oxford, having sailed through the entrance procedures, she took to the environment with apparent ease achieving a first-class honours degree while finding time to take part in drama and choral singing and make a large number of friends, although few who might be described as close. When she left University it was to take up a job in the civil service and she was one of a number who were placed on a 'fast track' which should lead them to the upper echelons of the service if all went well. Nobody expected anything other than that Elizabeth would reach those echelons quicker than most.
Over the next few years nothing happened to suggest that all of these expectations might be too high and when our story opens Elizabeth was assistant to an Alan Smith, a departmental head in the Foreign Office. One morning, after she had briefed her Head of Department about a particular project in which she was involved, he spoke to her about something else.
"By the way Elizabeth I should tell you that you have come to Sir John's attention. He would like to meet you."
Elizabeth's heart flipped a little at that. Sir John Shrewsbury was the Head of the whole division of the Foreign Office in which she worked and was regarded as something akin to God by those in the individual departments.
"He has heard good things about you and always likes to meet potential high fliers early in their careers, Elizabeth. What usually happens is that he will have lunch with you. I expect his secretary will be in touch shortly. Let me know when she does and I will make sure that you are free. Sir John's lunches can go on a bit on these occasions!"
In fact it was the next day when she received a telephone call from a lady with a cut-glass accent who enquired 'if she would be available to have lunch with Sir John Shrewsbury this coming Friday?' It was clear from the way she spoke that she did not expect any other response than 'yes' and the call took up less than 30 seconds. A driver would meet her at the front door of the building and take her to Sir John's club where he would meet her at 1.00pm. When she told Mr Smith about the appointment he smiled,
"This Friday? That's quick. Well I don't imagine we will see much of you on Friday afternoon Elizabeth, but good luck. Impress Sir John and it could be onwards and upwards for you quicker than even I expected!"
On the Friday, Elizabeth was up at the crack of dawn to make sure that she was as smartly turned out as she could possibly be, taking much longer than usual over her hair and make-up. Not that she either needed or used much in the way of make-up. She was as nervous as a kitten all morning and it wasn't until she went to the door of the building at quarter to one and found the driver waiting for her that she started to bring her emotions under control. She had always found that once something was under way ... an exam, a match, a project ... she was able to forget about nerves and simply get on with what had to be done. Lunch with Sir John Shrewsbury should be no different in her view.
The driver dropped her outside the imposing Victorian façade of one of London's best known Gentleman's Clubs and when she entered the impressive Lobby an attendant came forward immediately.
"Miss Lane? Sir John is waiting for you in the dining room. Please follow me."
In a few minutes the 27 year old young woman was shaking hands with Sir John himself. He was scarcely an imposing man, being quite short and portly, but his reputation of a keen, indeed razor sharp, mind and having the ear of many of the most important politicians in either of the main political parties was legendary.
"Miss Lane, welcome and thank you for agreeing to have lunch with me. May I call you Elizabeth?"
"Oh, yes please do, Sir John."
Somehow she did not think it appropriate to enquire if she could call him John! They were seated at a secluded table in one corner of the dining room which was set for two people at right angles to each other rather than the conventional opposite sides. She supposed that would allow diners to talk rather more confidentially than the usual setting and looking round she saw that a number of tables were like that and indeed men had their heads together at several of them.
The lunch seemed to go quickly. Elizabeth had been well trained by both her school and her parents on the behaviour to be expected at such occasions and so was not thrown in any way by the formalities. Sir John was a pleasant, indeed genial host and took great care that she was well looked after. It was only when they reached the coffee stage that he began to talk about her work and it was clear from what he said that he had made sure that he was well briefed about her. Eventually he asked,
"You are clearly doing very well, my dear, and from all that I have heard you should have a good future ahead of you in the service? What is your ambition?"
Elizabeth swallowed and then gathered her thoughts together for a few seconds. "Well Sir John, it is early in my career to be too optimistic, but I am ambitious. So far women have rarely if ever progressed very high in the service and I would like to be somebody who challenges that. Not, I hasten to add, from any feminist point of view, but simply because I feel I have the ability to do so."
He nodded, and then to her astonishment he lent towards her, placed one hand on her upper thigh and kept it there while he gazed straight at her and spoke. "An excellent answer my dear. I do believe we need that freshness of thought in our ranks. I hope that I may be able to steer your career upwards. It would be a privilege to help one so fresh and bright."
Then, maintaining his gaze, he squeezed her thigh a little and left his hand there as if daring her for a response. Elizabeth swallowed hard. Was this a test? She held his eyes and eventually steeled herself to speak.
"I am honoured to hear you say that, Sir John. Forgive me if I am a little gauche but does your hand on my thigh have any bearing on how my career path might proceed from here?"
He smiled, although she didn't think there was much humour behind the smile.
"What do you think my dear?"
"Well Sir John, I am possibly getting all of this completely out of proportion, so forgive me if I am misunderstanding something. If you wish me to sleep with you then I am willing to do so ... provided that it is done on the understanding that it will help my career. As I have said already I am ambitious."
There she had said it! God, what a sluttish remark! How could she say such a thing? How could she prostitute herself for the sake of a career? He smiled again.
"You are very direct Elizabeth. I like that in a woman. Sleep with you? No I don't think that will be necessary."
Then he leant over to her so that his face was very close to her own and spoke very quietly. "But I'm sure there will be something you can do for me, Miss Lane. Why don't we continue this conversation upstairs?"
At that he let go of her leg and almost in the same movement stood up, dropping his napkin onto the table. A waiter was beside them in an instant but he shook his head at the man and began to walk to the door. Hurriedly, Elizabeth grabbed her handbag and hurried after him, feeling a little foolish. She caught up with him at the door of the dining room but no words were spoken until they were in a lift heading for the floors of the building where rooms were available for members.
"What are you wearing under that pretty dress, dear Elizabeth?"
She blushed at that and whispered, "My underwear Sir John ... you know bra and panties ..."
He nodded and at that the lift door opened and he walked out ahead of her. Ten yards or so along the corridor he stopped at a door removed a key from his pocket and unlocked it. Then resuming politeness for the first time since he had put his hand on her thigh he ushered her inside.
It was a large room with a large bed, two comfortable chairs and a table and a window that overlooked the park. Another door presumably led to the bathroom. Elizabeth looked around nervously wondering what was going to happen. She wasn't a virgin. Three years at Oxford had seen to that but she was certainly nervous about the situation in which she found herself. He probably sensed that because he spoke kindly.
"No need to worry my dear, I'm not interested in raping you or anything stupid like that. No harm will come to you. The facilities are through there if you need to freshen up or anything and then I would like to see you in your ... bra and panties, as you put it so coyly."
She fled through the door he had indicated and found herself in a large bathroom. Sitting on the toilet she noticed a bidet as well as the usual fitments and wondered if she should use that. Breathing deeply she made herself take her time and did indeed 'freshen up'. Then she returned to the bedroom, carrying her cardigan and dress over one arm and placed these neatly over a chair. She stood up straight and looked at him. He looked back at her appraisingly, a slim figure wearing only an ordinary white bra and knickers, both bought in Marks and Spencers, and, incongruously her high heels.
"Very nice indeed, Elizabeth. I knew you would be of course. One criticism ... if we do this again I would be very grateful if you were to wear black or red underwear."
Elizabeth blushed and stood waiting for instructions. She supposed that despite what he had said about not sleeping with her, she wasn't surprised when he started to undress himself. However, he only removed his jacket and trousers before speaking again.
"My dear, when it comes to my age, sleeping with a lovely young lady is something to be remembered rather than experienced. The mind is willing but the body has become weaker as one might say. Far weaker than one would have liked. What I would like you to do is slightly more complicated than that."
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