A Conference Legacy Ch. 04bybarelegs©
Chapter Four: The Plot Thickens
I had no direct contact with Louise for the remainder of that week. She called me the next day to say that the flights and hotel had been booked, and that we would be departing on Tuesday evening from Heathrow at 6:10pm, arriving at Madrid at 9:15 local time. It would be a two-hour five minute flight. Transport from the airport would be provided by RightWay, our conference hosts, from Madrid International Airport to the Madrid Plaza Hotel, which would also be the conference venue. Louise suggested that we travel together by cab to the airport, and, bearing in mind we would need at least a two hour check-in window, that we should leave at 2:00pm from the office. Bearing in mind my absolute requirement for a pre-flight drink, I agreed readily, looking forward to a relaxed start to our journey. I was glad that Louise at least appeared to share my views about the importance of a stress-free journey. She sounded slightly excited, not to say agitated, when discussing the arrangements, and I could not easily discern whether this was out of positive anticipation or pre-flight anxiety. I decided that this was not rally my problem, and tried to put her and her captivating legs out of my mind, at least until the next week. I simply got my head down, and concentrated on work that was not connected with either Louise or the Madrid project. I have to say, however, that every time I saw a pretty girl, particularly one wearing a short skirt, and with anything like acceptable legs, and especially any girl with bare legs, my thoughts returned to Louise, and her simply unbeatable legs.
The Tuesday of our departure dawned bright and clear. It was seasonally warm and pleasant, and the weather (and the journey to work) turned my mind to the prospect of lechery and impending legsury.
I arrived at the office, complete with small suitcase and even smaller flight bag, in high anticipation of our trip.
When I logged on to pick up my e-mails, I found a short and slightly un-characteristic "good luck" message from Monica. She provided the names of a couple of decent-sounding restaurants in central Madrid, and the names of half a dozen potential clients she wanted me to follow up during the conference. All the contact names were female, and the e-mail was copied to Louise. She authorised a generous hospitality allowance to facilitate such contacts, and suggested I pick up the cash in Euros from Deborah Langman in the finance department at 12:00pm. Monica closed by saying that she hoped that we would have a successful and enjoyable trip, exhorting me to make sure I "looked out for" Louise.
I replied, thanking her for the contacts and for authorising the hospitality allowance. I decided not to respond to her final remark.
I was quietly pleased that I had been invited to liaise with Ms Langman. Since meeting up with Louise in the way that I had recently, I had become acutely aware that Deborah Langman was Louise's only serious rival (in the "irresistible legs" department). She was slim, about 5 feet 11 inches tall in flat shoes, and delighted, along with Louise, in the practice of exposing her spectacular legs as fully and as often as possible when ever she was in my presence, which was not, it has to be said, very often.
When I went down to the finance department, Deborah Langman, or Ms Langman, as she was more usually known, was sitting demurely at her work station. She swivelled round and rose to greet me as I entered the room, taking care to reveal almost the full length of her stunningly beautiful bare legs as she did so. She handed me a large brown envelope, which she had waiting for me.
"Everything's in there Charles, air tickets, hotel reservations, pick-up contact details, and your cash. There's a note from me summarizing everything you need to know. Hope you both have a good trip."
"Thanks Ms Langman." I replied very formally.
"Debbie, please!" she replied almost inaudibly.
"Ok! Debbie," I said without further comment.
"I wish I was coming!" she continued, "Louise is really excited about the trip. She's told me all about it. Sounds like you're both going to have a great time!"
"I hope so, Debbie, but business is business you know!"
With that, I smiled, and turned to walk away. As I did so, I caught a strange expression on Deborah Langman's very pretty face. It was a cross between a smile and a smirk, and it disappeared as soon as she clocked me looking at her.
I decided to risk a parting shot.
"I'm sure you'll get a full and accurate account of our activities, and expenditure, Debbie. I'll make sure Louise lets you know how we got on."
"I think she'll do that for herself!" she replied with a somewhat wry smile.
I wondered back to my office, and decided to transfer the contents of the cumbersome brown envelope to my flight bag.
Contained within the envelope were three separate pouches. The first contained both Louise's and my flight tickets and itinerary. These I placed in the front pocket of my flight bag alongside my passport.
The second contained several maps of the area around the hotel and of central Madrid. This too went into the same easy access pocket in the flight bag.
The third held 2,000 euros, in cash, along with a record form and a neat little wallet with "for receipts" hand written in large letters. The form and wallet went into the flight bag pocket, and the cash I placed neatly folded in the back compartment of my now bulging wallet. I was just about to discard the apparently redundant brown envelope, when I noticed a small purple plastic folder still tucked inside it, with "PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL" in much smaller but recognizably similar handwriting to that on the receipt holder. Intrigued, I pealed it open, and found a brief hand written note which read as follows:
"Charles, if you get bored with Louise's legs, just take a look at mine!
Maybe you'd like to check them out properly when you get back?
Love (and kisses)
Attached to the note were three standard sized photographs. The first, shot from behind, showed a very tall girl in a very short skirt climbing a staircase, exhibiting a beautiful pair of very fit, very long legs. Even viewed from behind, it was very definitely Debbie.
The second was of Debbie sitting slightly carelessly on a rather plush sofa in what looked like a hotel foyer. She was leaning casually against the low arm of the sofa, her long bare legs somewhat carelessly splayed, with her short skirt riding high up her curvaceous thighs.
The third showed Debbie again, lying what can only be described as wantonly, on a chez longue, wearing only the briefest of bikinis, with her feet either side of the sun bed, her long legs parted just enough to expose the thin strip of flesh-coloured material between her lovely, long, absolutely flawless, totally gorgeous, smooth, bare legs.
I gave an involuntary low whistle, and hurriedly and rather guiltily spirited the photos away in my wallet for later perusal.
Things were getting very hot, I began to feel.
Did Louise know about Debbie's note?
Had she seen the photos?
Were these two girls having some kind of weird "best legs" competition?
If she did know about Debbie, did she care?
Did I care?
I really couldn't tell.
One thing was for sure - I couldn't get Debbie's lovely long bare legs out of my head. I decided that both she and they would have to wait till I got back from Madrid. I had enough on my mind with Louise and her legs. She had turned me into a legs slave already! But what was Debbie planning?