Parallel Lives Pt. 03

A Declaration Among The Standing Stones

"Radiocarbon dating suggests that the bluestones at the centre of the circle, the first stones to be raised here, were brought to this site between 2,400 and 2,200 BC," their tour guide, a middle aged woman who'd introduced herself as Lizzie explained to Verbier and her companions. "Though there is some evidence that they may have been brought here as early as 3,000 BC."

The American billionairess, much to Johnny's amusement, looked to be utterly enraptured by the ancient monoliths that surrounded them. Normally, visitors to the world famous ancient monument on Salisbury Plain were not permitted into the stone circle itself, except for during the summer and winter solstices, but for Mrs. Verbier and her small party that included Johnny and Chantal, a young man named Marshall who was her most senior personal assistant, and an armed ex Navy SEAL bodyguard who declined to introduce herself, an exception to the rules had been made. Johnny could clearly see the normal day to day tourists looking jealously at them from the path that visitors were obliged to stick to at all times. It soon also became apparent that some of them recognised Mrs. Verbier, and that at least a few of them would want her autograph - something her bodyguard was evidently keen to avoid. Johnny couldn't help but notice the discreet conversation she had with a couple of local police constables that had been summoned by the museum's curator just in case people needed to be moved away from the billionairess.

"Don't you find that Americans' fascination with our ancient monuments is rather amusing?" Chantal whispered in Johnny's ear as Verbier and her fellow countrywomen were visibly enthralled by their surroundings. "I see the exact same look on their faces in Notre Dame!"

"Gee, look at how old it is!" Johnny exclaimed, comically mimicking Verbier's Californian accent. "It must be like, at least a hundred years old!"

"Oh, Johnny, you are so funny!" Chantal giggled.

He loved the way she pronounced his name as "Jeannie", and decided thather accent was definitely one of her most endearing qualities.

"I remember coming here on a school field trip when I was fifteen," Johnny said, just to keep their conversation going as the historian lectured the American contingent. "It was the last time I ever saw my friend Tim."

"La maladie de Swift?" Chantal surmised, using the French term for the Anderson-Swift's virus.

"Actually no," Johnny answered sadly. "He died of a head injury. I wasn't there when it happened, but from what I was told, after the coach dropped us all off back at school, Tim decided it'd be fun to try and impress all the girls by trying a bit of parkour. He'd climbed up onto a nearby wall and tried to do that jumping off and rolling thing they do. Anyway, it turned out he knew fuck all about parkour, and he mistimed his jump and landed on his head. Stupid sod!"

"I am so sorry to hear that," Chantal responded with genuine sympathy.

"If anything, it would've been easier if it had been Anderson-Swift's that took him," Johnny went on. "At least then it would've been half expected anyway."

"I am glad you survived it," Chantal said as she looked him in the eye to convey her sincerity. "Otherwise, I would never have met you."

The French woman turned and faced him directly.

"I know you probably get this a lot," she continued nervously. "And that it is also quite sudden, since we only met properly this morning. But, I think I... I think I am in love with you, Johnny."

It was true - Johnny did indeed get a lot of women telling him they were in love with him, but in those cases it was always their hormones and their pent-up sexual desires doing the talking, but with Chantal he realised that her declaration was nothing less than one hundred percent sincere. This caused Johnny to stumble for a moment, as he was caught totally off guard.

"Chantal, I..." he began to reply before she cut him off.

"It is okay, Johnny," she sighed with sorrow in her voice. "I know you probably do not love me in return."

"I wasn't going to say that," Johnny responded. "You're right, it is sudden, and yes, I do get a lot of women declaring their undying love for me. Though usually it comes from nothing more than a desire to get into my pants and get me into their bed. But with you it feels... different. I can sense something different in you, something that is not like all the others."

"It is because I am being serious, Johnny," Chantal assured him. "I think... no, I know I am in love with you. You are the most handsome man I have ever met, Johnny. But more than that, you are kind and gentle, and you have a very good sense of style too! I do not know if we are... ah, quel est le mot Anglais? Ah! I do not know if we are compatible yet, but I would certainly love to have the opportunity to find out if we are."

"Well, at least we have established that we both love good coffee," Johnny smiled at her.

"And we both like cats too," Chantal beamed in return.

"Well, okay then," Johnny nodded his acquiescence. "In that case, I would love to find out if we are compatible."

The smile she gave him in return lit up her face like the Christmas lights being switched on along Regents Street, and immediately she wrapped her arms around him in an excited embrace.

"Hey, you two!" Verbier's voice suddenly cut in and spoiled the moment. "You coming with us, or are you going to stay here all day?"

The now impatient billionairess and her companions were moving on to the next stop on the curator's guided tour.

"Coming, Madame," Chantal answered with a sigh.

The Second Night

Johnny's mind was in somewhat of a daze as he sat in the back of the helicopter as it flew them all back to London. Chantal had declared her love for him, and he had basically told her that his feelings for her were mutual. This fact alone caused him to feel something deep inside him that he'd never felt before for a member of the opposite sex. Sophia Verbier, and Susan Connor before her, had simply seen him as a conquest, to be used and then casually disposed of in favour of the next attractive young male, but Chantal wasn't like those two oversexed harridans - her attraction to him was genuine. He looked at her as she sat opposite him, and saw an expression on her face of totally sincere attraction. But that expression soured as soon as she saw Verbier's hand touching his thigh, and for a moment, as he felt the American woman's hand venture towards his groin, he wondered if Chantal would lash out at her employer. But somehow she simply managed to stare at her boss emotionlessly - he guessed that her reasoning was that not only would her job be at risk if she did, but that her entire career would be in tatters. A woman with as much power and influence as Sophia Verbier could make life very difficult for her indeed, so much so that no prospective future employer would ever want to take her on.

"Looking forward to tonight, Johnny?" Verbier asked him.

On the surface it sounded like she was asking him about the upcoming press launch and gala function that evening to celebrate the takeover of Wharfside Productions and its rebranding as WV Media, but both Johnny and Chantal knew what she was actually alluding to - another long and exhausting night of sexual shenanigans in her hotel bedroom. Unseen by everyone in the back of the executive helicopter, Chantal was seething with rage.

* * * * * *

"Ladies and Gentlemen, it is a great pleasure to formally announce to you that as from today Wharfside Productions is proud to become a member of the Verbier Media Corporation, and to form a new company, Wharfside Verbier Media PLC," Dame McAllan announced to the gathering of journalists and correspondents from behind a glass lectern set atop a small stage before a backdrop of red silk curtains, behind which was hidden the logo of the newly established subsidiary of the global media conglomerate. "This partnership not only secures the future of hundreds of jobs here in the UK, but also allows us to establish a presence in the United States, and to fly the flag for Britain overseas."

Beside her, Sophia Verbier stood dressed in a fabulously elegant evening gown, with close to half a million pounds worth of jewellery twinkling and sparkling in the light from the gathered journalist's camera flashes. Even the BBC's senior media correspondent was in attendance to cover the event.

"In a moment, I shall hand you over to my good friend, Mrs. Sophia Verbier, who will formally declare our new partnership official and to reveal our new corporate identity," McAllan went on. "But first, I would like to share with you some of the exciting new projects we have coming up over the course of the next few months."

"I thought you looked very handsome earlier today," Johnny heard Chantal whispering in his ear as they stood together near the back of the room. "But in that outfit you look trés sexy!"

He stood beside her looking devilishly smart in his dinner jacket, white shirt and black silk bow tie.

"Cheers," he responded to her with a lopsided grin. "You scrub up rather nice yourself!"

She didn't fully understand his jovial compliment at first, but after a few moments she smiled as she realised that it was an example of "le sens de l'humour Britannique" that she'd always loved as a longtime fan of British comedy. Chantal looked every bit as glamorous as all the other women in the room, with the exception of the journalists who all looked rather scruffy in comparison. But she had something that Verbier and the other invited guests did not posess - style.

The way she dressed herself reminded Johnny of a quote from the late Coco Chanel, whom he presumed was one of Chantal's biggest influences - "fashion fades, only style remains." The other women in the room were no doubt fashionably dressed, but only Chantal looked genuinely stylish.

The small number of men in the room, no more than ten including Johnny himself, all looked uniformly smart in their black dinner jackets and bow ties, save for one or two discrete personalised touches, but in Chantal's eyes, Johnny's attire was just that little bit smarter than any of his fellow males. He was, in her eyes at least, the most attractive man in the entire room. At the same time however, she disliked the realisation that once the evening's events were at an end, after the official press launch and the glamorous shindig afterwards during which copious amounts of champagne, canapés and cocktails would be consumed and imbibed by all those in attendance, that her employer would spend the rest of the night using her beau as a disposable sexual plaything. But as she stood there watching the scene as Sophia Verbier stood up to the lectern to deliver her own address to the gathered media, a devious plan started to formulate in her mind, and it was all those glasses of champagne and cocktails that were the focus of her scheme.

"Excusé moi, monsieur," she attracted the attention of a young man serving drinks to the gathered dignitaries and executives.

"Yes, ma'am?" the young waiter answered.

"Mon employeur, Madame Verbier, has requested a certain cocktail cé soir - may I speak with the person in charge of the drinks, please?" Chantal asked her.

* * * * * *

"And so it is with great pleasure that I can now formally unveil the new logo for WV Media PLC," Sophia Verbier announced to the gathered crowd.

She turned and pulled a cord that parted the curtains behind her, and revealed the new logo. It was, more accurately, little more than a revision of the old Wharfside Productions logo, but restyled to incorporate familiar elements of the Verbier Corporation's logo, and featured the words "a Verbier Corporation company" as a supplementary line. As the camera flashes went off, Dame McAllan came and stood by her side, and together they raised their glasses. Little did Verbier realise however, that her glass of bubbly had a little something extra in it.

As the evening wore on, Johnny couldn't help but notice that Mrs. Verbier's behaviour was becoming ever more uninhibited, and there was hardly a single man in the room whom she hadn't made a pass at. Indeed, her slurring speech was evidence enough that by the halfway stage of the evening's soiree she was absolutely plastered. It rather took him by surprise that she seemed unable to hold her drink, a fact that also did not escape the eyes of Dame McAllan and Louise Martinsen.

"Bloody hell, Johnnie," his boss whispered in his ear. "You'd think that someone who has been to as many champagne receptions and cocktail parties as that Verbier woman she'd be able to hold her drink better!"

"Yeah, looks like I might have to carry her into her suite later!" he huffed in reply.

Just then, the sound of a metal tray clattering to the floor, accompanied by the unmistakable noise of glasses being smashed and champagne being spilled cut through the background of executive and celebrity chatter in the room. Everyone looked to see where it had come from, and their eyes looked at the sight of the young man whom Chantal had earlier spoken with, staring at Mrs. Verbier with a fiery gaze of unrestrained fury.

"Hey, shhhweetie!" Verbier slurred. "What'sh the matter, huh? Can't a cute boy like you take a compliment?"

"I don't care who you are, but you do not just grope a guy like that!" the young man spat back at her.

At which point the sound of gasps and murmurs among the attendees could be clearly heard above the silence.

"Oh, don't give me all that "she touched me!" bullshit!" Verbier responded. "Can't a woman touch a guy anymore?"

"Certainly not the way you were touching me!" the young man retaliated venomously. "You'd better get your lawyers on the phone, bitch, 'cause I'm going to call the police and have you done for sexual harassment!"

And with that, he stormed off.

"Holy shit," Johnny gasped towards Chantal. "Has that woman got no morals at all? Did you see what she did to him? Just groped his crotch completely out in the open like that?"

"I couldn't help not seeing it!" Chantal chuckled. "She just grabbed his genitals and squeezed them in full view of the entire room!"

"It's a pity all the press reporters have gone -- she would be eaten alive for this!" Johnny continued.

"Unless someone with a smartphone managed to record the incident and post it online," Chantal added, in a conspiratorial tone of voice.

"It'd go viral in a matter of minutes," Johnny chuckled. "Her PR people would have one hell of a damage limitation job on their hands!"

"Yes, it is amazing how quickly these things can tarnish a woman's reputation these days, non?" Chantal smirked.

Johnny looked down at her hand, just as her finger tapped on the "share" button of the short video clip she'd just recorded.

"What?" Chantal responded defensively as she noticed Johnny looking at her phone. "You think she doesn't deserve to be taken down for this? She just sexually assaulted a young man in public!"

Johnny grinned, if ever there was a woman who deserved to be condemned in the court of public opinion it was Sophia Verbier. But just as he completed that thought, another one entered his mind.

"But, Chantal, your job," he pointed out to her. "Once that becomes public do you really want to be associated with that woman? Because after the Harriet Weinstein thing and all the #MeToo stuff I'll bet that plenty more young guys will come out and accuse her of groping them. And I wouldn't be at all surprised if much more serious accusations come to light!"

"It would be, how you English say, like the turkeys voting for Christmas, oui?" Chantal said with a smirk. "Listen, Johnny, I have spent the past few years tolerating that woman's behaviour towards men and I simply cannot ignore it any longer. That woman is a disgrace! You think that there will be more serious allegations made against her? Johnny, I've seen her doing the most appalling things to young guys. I've seen her "casting couch" with my own eyes - and I have seen the things she makes the young men do to appease her, all in the name of feeding her addiction to sex!

"I don't care about my job anymore! As far as I am concerned I would gladly stand up in the court and tell the jury everything I have seen her do! I have already tendered my resignation - she will find it in her inbox in the morning. I know it is sudden, but since I met you, Johnny, I have made up my mind. I simply cannot work for her any longer. I simply cannot stand by and watch the way she uses young men, some of them not much more than boys right out of high school."

"But, what will you do?" Johnny asked her.

"There is no shortage of jobs out there for personal stylists," Chantal answered. "I will be fine, Johnny, do not worry about me."

The more he got to know her, and especially that she was prepared to quit her job in order to bring to light Sophia Verbier's treatment of dozens of young guys just like him who had been taken advantage of over the years, endeared her to him even more. He couldn't deny it any longer - he was in love with her. Deeply, truly, and eternally in love with her.

* * * * * *

"Holy crap, Chantal," Johnny exclaimed as they hauled the by now completely paralytic billionairess back towards her hotel suite. "She weighs an absolute ton!"

"You are too fat, Madame - far too many business brunches, lunches, afternoon coffees and les grands dîners!" Chantal chuckled as she helped support the other woman's bulk.

"How... dare you c-call me f-f-fat!" Verbier slurred.

"Fat? Madame?" Chantal retaliated humorously. "Vous êtes une baleine échouée!"

But Verbier was so far gone that her French taunt fell on deaf ears.

"What does that mean?" Johnny asked her as he unlocked the door to the suite. "What you said to her just then?"

"I just said that she is like a beached whale!" Chantal answered, barely able to keep the smirk from her face.

A smirk that was echoed by the two bodyguards that were still stationed in the corridor outside Verbier's suite.

"Yeah," Johnny grinned, and added a comparison of his own. "Her fat arse is like the back ends of two very badly parked buses!"

Chantal squealed with laughter. Working together, they managed to get Verbier onto the bed, by which time she had completely passed out altogether. For her final duty as the billionairess media mogul's personal stylist, Chantal undressed her boss down to the expensive lingerie she had picked for her employer that evening and then draped the bedsheets over her.

"I guess this means my services won't be required tonight, thank goodness," Johnny sighed as they both took a step back to savour the scene of the slumbering woman before them.

"Well, you could thank goodness," Chantal smirked. "Or you could thank someone else instead."

Johnny looked squarely at her and noticed the devious expression on her face, and like a game of Tetris all the pieces fell into place with a satisfying clunk.

"Oh, Chantal, you didn't!" he chuckled. "Tell me you didn't get her pissed on purpose!"

"Well, I might have asked that waiter to make sure Madame's drinks had a little more alcohol in them than normal," she grinned in response. "And that if Madame touched him a little inappropriately that he make a very big scene of it!"

"You are evil, Chantal!" Johnny guffawed. He took her in his arms and embraced her, lifted her off her feet and spun them both around several times. "God, I love you!" he added as he set her down once more.

"And I love you too, Johnny," she smiled in return.