by J Wackford Colton
Clare Rogers leant back from her desk and computer screen feeling very pleased with herself. She had just completed a highly complicated currency transaction involving Euros. At one time she was showing losses amounting to millions - which would have resulted in her being abruptly fired and her reputation in tatters. However, in the end she closed the deal showing a very handsome profit. This would add a few noughts to her year end bonus, which was already looking very healthy. Last year her bonus had helped her move to a very smart apartment in Fulham.
"Next year?" she mused. "Chelsea? Maybe even Belgravia or Knightsbridge..." Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp ring on her phone. "Clare Rogers," she answered. The disagreeable voice of Mrs Summerson, the CEO's PA came on.
"Mr Manners wants to see you immediately. Don't be late!" And with that she slammed the phone down.
Clare sighed, and addressed her neighbour. "Would you mind the shop for me Kevin? God wants to see me."
"Sure thing, Clary Baby."
"And no poaching my clients!"
"Now would I do such an ungentlemanly thing?" Kevin replied innocently.
Wouldn't you just! Clare thought to herself as she made her way to the lift which would take her up to the top floor. Not for the first time she knew the dealing floor consisted of a lot of sharks waiting to pounce at the first sight of blood. At the same time, she was a mite concerned at the reason for her summons. Guy Manners, the CEO of Charnley Wilton Merchant Bank very rarely summoned his staff for a pat on the back. Usually the blow was administered much further down.
"Well you took your time," Mrs Summerson rasped as Clare walked into the outer office.
"Do I take it I'm to go straight in?" Clare asked, wondering not for the first time, why, when he had the pick of all the best PA's around, he should have picked this bad tempered old bat.
"Well, you've kept him waiting long enough! And don't spend all afternoon wittering. He's very busy today!"
Clare walked in to the office and Guy Manners, a good looking forty year-old, stood up and waved her to a settee. He then moved over to sit on an adjacent chair.
"I've been hearing great things about you, Clare. Adrian, your section head is delighted with your progress, and a little bird tells me you have completed a very juicy transaction today, which will benefit both you and the bank greatly."
"Thank you Mr Manners. I had a few anxious moments but it all came out good in the end."
"Oh, call me Guy, please!" he said with an expansive smile, "But I'm not the only one who has been most impressed by your abilities. I think you met Boris Ulyanovic last week. He's been singing your praises to the heavens!"
Clare certainly remembered him. A large and unbelievably wealthy Russian, who had taken advantage of the fall of communism to acquire oil wells and steel works at knock down prices. "Yes. Adrian and I took him out to lunch last week."
"Well you certainly made a big impression! So much so, that he's invited you down for a long weekend tomorrow at his pad in Hampshire. I've accepted on your behalf of course."
Clare smiled and nodded, whilst thinking, So much for my weekend away.
"I must emphasize, Clare, that Mr Ulyanovic is an extremely valued client of the bank, and he does have ... let us say ... some rather curious quirks. It is important that you humour him and go along with what he wants."
Clare suddenly felt extremely wary. "Can we get something straight, Guy? Is it me he wants or my body?"
"I don't think I follow you Clare," said Guy frowning.
"Then let me spell it out in words of four letters. Has he invited me because he wants to fuck me?"
"Oh really, Clare!" Guy laughed, "We do ask a lot of our employees, but asking them to prostitute themselves is not on my agenda! In any case there are three other men and two other women invited. No, you'll find out soon enough about his quirks, but I promise you'll be much better off at the end of the weekend than you were at the beginning, provided you play your cards right!"
Clare was not totally reassured but felt she could not refuse the invitation. "Ok. Where am I going and how do I get there?"
Guy passed a folder over to her. "All the details are in there. Travel in your most informal clothes, and don't take any additional clothing. All your clothes, nightwear and toiletries will be provided for you at Haddleston Hall, which is where you are going. Do remember at all times what I said about humouring our friend Boris. We cannot afford to upset him, and it would be a pity if your employment with us was terminated over some silly thing like that!"
Clare gulped, and took the folder. "Ok, I'll do my best to keep him happy, as long as he keeps his hands off me!"
"No danger of that I promise you. Oh, and don't be late, he's expecting you at 11.00 am." Guy then stood up indicating the meeting was over. "When you finally leave, ring me on your mobile and tell me how you got on."
The following day found Clare in a very frustrated frame of mind. She had worked out via Google maps and the RAC that the journey would take two hours. She added an extra hour for safety but even this was not enough.
First, on her way to the M25 she turned down the street indicated on her Sat Nav, only to find that it had been turned into a cul-de-sac the previous day by the Mayor of London. She was followed into it by an articulated lorry, and it took all of half an hour and much bad language to get out again. When she reached the M25 the traffic was totally stationary, and when she managed to leave and dialled in a fresh route on the Sat Nav it took her into a farm yard, from which she was chased away by an irate farmer.
Finally, she arrived outside the steel gates of Haddleston Hall at 11.15, and noted the tight security, the barbed wire and the CCTV cameras. She got out and made her way to the entry phone, and noticed the cameras focussing on her.
"Ok boys, get a load of this," she muttered, swinging her tits provocatively. Before she could press the button, a voice sounded.
"Welcome to Haddleston Hall, Miss Clare. The gates are opening as I speak. Please drive up to the main entrance, where you will be met by James the footman."
This is more like it! she thought, and she wiggled her bum for the benefit for the cameras as she made her way back to the car. Soon she was driving her Porsche up to the impressive Palladian entrance, where a good looking young man was waiting. He was dressed in dark trousers and a yellow waistcoat.
"Welcome to Haddleston Hall," he said with an expansive smile. He continued to speak in a posh public-school type voice. "I am James the footman. Please let me have your keys. I'll remove your car. Mr Purvis the Butler is waiting to welcome you inside."
This is definitely it! "Thanks. I have a small bag in the boot."
"I'll attend to it, Miss Clare. Needless to say when your car is returned to you on Monday, it will have a full tank of petrol and will have been thoroughly serviced and cleaned." With that, James slid behind the wheel and drove off in the vehicle.
Clare made her way up the steps to the front door. She was expecting the butler to be a cross between an archbishop and master baker, but in fact Mr Purvis was in his early forties and more resembled the Managing Director of a medium sized company.
"Welcome Miss Clare!" he said, extending his hand. "Mrs Williams, the Housekeeper, is upstairs waiting to greet you and to introduce you to your personal maid, Julie, who will be looking after you during your stay. But sadly I have an unpleasant duty to perform first. Mr Ulyanovic is most concerned that he particularly asked you to be here at 11.00, and it is now nearly 11.30. He wonders if you have an explanation."
"Well I really am extremely sorry," started Clare and she then explained the sorry train of events that caused her to be late.
"I fully appreciate and understand what you have just said," Mr Purvis replied sympathetically, "but unfortunately Mr Ulyanovic has very firm views on punctuality, and feels that some sanction is necessary. However, as it is your first day, he is inclined to be lenient, and has decided that twenty minutes corner time will be an appropriate punishment."
Clare could not believe her ears. "Now just a minute," she burst out, "I'm a senior bank official, not a naughty school girl! I've given you a valid explanation and apology, and surely that should suffice!"
"I do appreciate what you say Miss Clare," Mr Purvis continued smoothly, "but Mr Ulyanovic has very distinct views on the matter, and it would make matters so much easier for us all, including yourself, if you were to comply with his request."
Clare nearly told Mr Purvis what he could do with his request, but then remembered Guy's final warning to her. Was it really worth putting her job on the line for twenty minutes in the corner? She decided not.
"Very well, I'll do it," she said, albeit reluctantly.
"Thank you Miss Clare, I am so grateful to you. If you could come with me to the Penitents' Room, you can serve out your twenty minutes there. There are two other guests already in there, but I would ask you not to address them. You will have ample time to speak to them at lunch time."
Clare followed Mr Purvis into a comfortably furnished room but when she saw the man and woman in two of the corners she stopped in her tracks and gasped. It was not just that they were wearing similar clothes but that the girl's skirt and knickers and the man's trousers and underpants were draped round their ankles, although their private parts were covered by their shirt tails.
"Well I hope you're not expecting me to take down my jeans and panties!" she said anxiously. She was wearing a short denim bomber jacket, and an even shorter blouse, baring her midriff. Removal of her lower garments would have exposed her nether regions for all to see.
"No, that won't be necessary," said Mr Purvis with a smile. "Your presence in the corner is all that is required."
Clare took up her place, thinking that of all the things her bank had asked her to do, this surely was the most pointless. The time seemed to drag on and on, but eventually Mr Purvis returned, and addressed her.
"Thank you for your cooperation Miss Clare, you may come out now. Mrs Williams is waiting for you on the first floor. As for you, Mr Richard and Miss Carol, your time is nearly up, and I'll be back for you in five minutes."
Richard and Carol showed no sign of having heard anything, but as Clare left the room, Carol caught her eye and gave her a smile and a wink. Thank goodness someone is human, Clare thought.
Mrs Williams proved to be a comfortably built middle-aged lady, whilst Julie, who was an attractive twenty something, spoke in the tones of one who has attended Roedean or Cheltenham College. Mrs Williams quickly introduced her to Clare, saying, "Normally Julie would help you settle in and get changed, but as it's your first morning, I thought I would help you."
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