Parallel Lives Pt. 03

Martinsen sighed and collapsed into her chair. She rubbed her temples and composed herself.

"Dame McAllan came to me the other day to inform me that the takeover deal between us and VMC was on the verge of collapse, with Mrs. Verbier threatening to take her money to one of our competitors," Martinsen explained. "She told me that if the deal collapsed my employment here would be terminated."

She looked at Johnny gravely.

"And yours as well," she went on. "We'd both be out of a job."

Dame Ariadne McAllan was the chairwoman of Wharfside Productions, and currently the owner of the entire company.

"She told me that we had one last chance to prevent the whole deal from falling apart and to save the takeover and our jobs," Martinsen continued. "The trip to the theatre to see that Godiva musical had already been arranged, but when Mrs. Connor came to me on Friday afternoon telling me what a handsome young man you were and how lonely it can be at the top for someone so far away from home and alone in that hotel suite I... I don't know what came over me but... I thought that... maybe if I offered her..."

"Me?" Johnny supposed. "If you offered her me for the night as her personal fuck-toy?"

"Well, she didn't express it in such graphic terms but... in a nutshell, um, sort of... yes," Martinsen replied sheepishly, clearly feeling ashamed in hindsight. "It was deeply, deeply wrong of me... I know that now. Look, Johnny, it was a desperate situation, okay! I was literally backed into a corner by that woman - I wouldn't have even contemplated it otherwise! But there was so much at stake - not just for me and you personally, but for all of us."

"All of us?"

"Look, Johnny, it hasn't been made public, so don't breathe a word of this to anyone, but the company is hemorrhaging money and if the Verbier takeover falls through, Dame McAllan would have to cut her losses and sell us to Grainger Group up in Manchester. And of course that means there'd be redundancies. Probably a lot of redundancies - they'd likely close this office down for starters. But the takeover with Verbier and their investment in us will secure hundreds of jobs. One of the legal clauses in the deal is that Verbier will retain all of Wharfside's staff for at least the next five years."

Just then, before Johnny had a chance to respond, the door to Martinsen's office opened and the company's chairwoman, Dame Ariadne McAllan herself, entered the room, smiling from ear to ear.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I, Louise?" she asked.

"Er, not at all, Dame McAllan - come in, please," Mrs. Martinsen replied.

"Are you feeling okay, Louise? Your cheek looks a bit reddened," the chairwoman asked her, having noticed the red mark where Johnny had slapped her.

"No, I'm fine - really," she responded. "Just a little... um... eczema. It um... flares up a little every now and then."

"Fair enough. I just wanted to say thank you," Dame McAllan said as she took a seat. "Whatever it is you did to convince Mrs. Connor yesterday has done wonders - she and her colleagues are on their way here right now to sign off the deal. The takeover is back on! Oh, I cannot begin to tell you what a relief it is!"

"Yes, it's er... very good news," Martinsen replied.

She looked at Johnny, who was clearly trying to remain calm in the presence of the chairwoman.

"But I can't take sole credit for it," Martinsen continued. "If anyone deserves praise it's Johnny here. He... made it his personal responsibility to entertain Mrs. Connor last night."

She gave Johnny a stern look to keep his mouth shut.

"Well, whatever you did, Johnny, it clearly helped sway Mrs. Connor," Dame McAllan praised him with a warm smile. "So, I'd like to propose something to you both, if you'll hear me out."

"Um... yeah, sure," Martinsen replied.

"You'll be aware that as a part of the takeover deal I shall be retiring as chairwoman," Dame McAllan explained. "But as a condition of the takeover bid, VMC has allowed me to appoint my own successor, rather than simply installing someone of their own choosing. To that end I shall be nominating Annie Medcalf to take over from me, and as long as the rest of the board agree she will become the new chairwoman. Which means there will be an opening on the board of directors.

"So I would like to offer you the position of director of corporate relations, Louise - your role in securing the VMC deal has definitely proved to me that you're a worthy candidate for the job."

The director of corporate relations, whilst not being one of the most influential positions on the company board, was nevertheless a coveted position within the company and came with all manner of perks, including a more than substantial pay rise. Basically, the director of corporate relations had the responsibility for negotiating deals with other media companies and various suppliers and sub-contractors -- it was a real coup for a woman of Lousie Martinsen's standing to be offered a place on the board at such a relatively young age.

"I... I er, don't know what to say," Martinsen responded.

"Well, yes would be a start!" Dame McAllan smiled. "And of course, you'll need a competent PA, and since you and young Johnny here clearly make such a good team it makes sense to keep the two of you together."

She turned to face Johnny before continuing.

"Which of course would mean a significant pay rise for you, also. And in addition, Johnny, I'd like to offer you the responsibility for arranging and organising corporate entertainment - after the glowing report from Mrs. Connor I received this morning you clearly have a knack for it."

"I um... I don't know if..." Johnny stammered. "You see... well, Mrs. Martinsen, she..."

Johnny's boss glared at him to keep his mouth shut. Now is not the time for this, Johnny, she tried to transmit to him telepathically. Amazingly, it appeared to work, and Johnny stopped in mid sentence.

"Yes, Johnny?" the chairwoman prompted.

"Um... I was just about to say... Mrs. Martinsen, er... I don't know if she could manage without me."

"Which is exactly why I don't want to split the two of you up," Dame McAllan grinned.

Martinsen breathed a sigh of relief that Johnny hadn't landed her in trouble.

"Take a few days to think it over by all means," the chairwoman went on with a smile as she stepped over to the door to let herself out. "For now, I'm giving you both the rest of the day off - go and celebrate in town or something. The board and I shall definitely be raising a glass to both of you tonight!"

She closed the door behind her with a click, leaving Johnny and his boss alone together.

"I didn't deserve that," Martinsen said as she reclined back in her chair. "You had every right to report me to her for exploiting you."

"You're right," Johnny replied, calmed somewhat by the chairwoman's interruption and buoyed by the news of his promotion, even though it had been earned through rather dubious means. "I should have reported you to her."

"So why didn't you?" Mrs. Martinsen queried. "I've just been offered a massive promotion and you were in prime position to ruin it for me because of what I did to you."

"I... I don't know why," Johnny replied. "I guess, maybe in hindsight... it wasn't so bad..."

"Johnny, look at me," Mrs. Martinsen urged. "I took advantage of you, and because of that you have every right to hate my guts."

"But that's it," Johnny replied. "I don't think I hate you, Mrs. M, I just hate what you did. I hate the way you'd just assumed that I'd drop my pants and let Mrs. Connor fuck me because we men always want sex, don't we? We're quite happy to let any woman into our pants because we're all such testosterone-fuelled sluts at heart, aren't we? Hell, even my school careers advisor once handed me a leaflet about joining a Mascularium and being trained up as a "masseur" whilst all the girls in my year were being encouraged to go to university and study law and medicine and engineering and stuff."

Mrs. Martinsen blushed at the mention of the word "Mascularium"being a regular visitor to her nearest male prostitutes' collective at least once a week.

"You women always think that the only way for young guys like me can be successful in life is if we sleep our way to the top," Johnny went on.

"Johnny, you know I don't think that," Mrs. Martinsen retorted.

"Yeah, well maybe not you personally, but women in general seem to think that," Johnny fired back. "You have no idea the sort of crap that young guys like me have to put up with on a daily basis."

To illustrate his point, Johnny slammed his reusable coffee cup onto the desk.

"Take this for example," he said, pointing to the hot beverage receptacle. "Every morning on my way to the office I call in to the coffee place across the street for a cappuccino with vanilla syrup, and every morning the manager always quips about how "some day I'll have you in my bed, Johnny."

"To her it's just a bit of harmless banter, just a little jovial remark, but to me... it's... it's like she doesn't see me as a person. She sees me as a conquest, a potential notch on her bedpost, another possible entry in the little black book in her bedside table. I'd be just another name on her list of "boys I've fucked". This morning, for the first time, I told her to fuck off."

"Well, er... good for you," his boss replied. "I'm definitely in favour of male empowerment - you know I've always considered myself a masculinist."

Johnny scoffed at her hollow words - he hated it when women who knew nothing about what being a man was like claimed to be masculinist "allies".

"That's just the first indignity I encounter every morning," Johnny went on. "On the tube, in the invariably crowded carriage I almost always find some woman giving my bum a quick pat, but of course that's just a bit of harmless fun, right?"

"Look, Johnny I..."

"But that's at the more "harmless" end of the spectrum," Johnny continued his diatribe unabated.

He stood, and before her eyes he started to unfasten his belt and unzip his flies.

"At the other extreme, sex-starved bitches prey on guys like me," Johnny went on as he took his trousers down. "And young guys like me get raped, Mrs. M, which is why..." he yanked his underpants down to his knees and stood before her defiantly. "Guys like me resort to wearing these infernal things to protect ourselves," he said, pointing at the clear plastic chastity device that encased his penis.

Martinsen's eyes nearly popped out at what she saw, and an uneasy silence ensued as Johnny stood there with his trousers and pants around his knees and his plastic encased genitalia on display. But he stood his ground, determined to make sure she understood his anger, not just at what had happened the night before, but at what he and so many other young men like him went through every day.

"Okay, Johnny, you've made your point," Mrs. Martinsen responded patiently. "Pull your pants back up please."

Johnny did as he was asked and made himself decent.

"Sorry, I um, got a bit carried away there," Johnny said as he zipped himself up and sat down once more. "If anything, I'm as much disgusted in myself for what happened last night. Ever since I got accepted into university I worked and studied hard to show that I could make it in a woman's world and prove that young guys can be successful without having to sleep our way into being promoted. I shouldn't have to put up with being groped on the tube or wolf-whistled at by builders, or having women undress me with their eyes whenever I walk past them, or be objectified in advertisements.

"You know, in the tube carriage the other day I counted at least eight separate advertisements with a picture of a naked man on them. Eight, for pity's sake! In one tube carriage!

"But last night I "resorted to type" and allowed that woman to use my body, and now I feel like such a whore and a hypocrite because of it. I'm now a notch on Mrs. Connor's bedpost - another name on her list of "boys I've fucked." Because... because I'm just the s-same as the all th-the rest of us - nothing more than a ch-cheap slut."

It was at that moment that his tears began to trickle down his cheeks, and all his pent-up emotions came flooding out.

"Oh, Johnny," Mrs. Martinsen sighed as she witnessed his anguished sobbing. "We've got ourselves into a bloody mess here, haven't we? I've just been promoted - we both have - we should be following Dame McAllan's instructions and go out to celebrate. But the way I've achieved it... by using you as a bargaining tool and letting that Connor woman take advantage of you... I don't deserve it."

She picked up her desk phone.

"I'm going to call Dame McAllan," she said with her finger hovering over the keypad poised and ready to dial the chairwoman's extension. "I'm going to decline the promotion. In fact, I'm going to do the honourable thing - I'll confess to her exactly how I took advantage of you and then I'll resign."

"No," Johnny interjected tearfully, and batted her hand away from the phone. "I won't let you do that - but I'm glad that at least you're willing to fall on your sword for what you did to me."

He spent a few moments to compose himself before continuing.

"Look, I know I ought to let Dame McAllan throw the book at you, but... I don't know if I could live with myself if she did," he went on. "At the end of the day, between us both, we've saved hundreds of jobs at this company - Dame McAllan owes us. She owes me especially. So I say let's not squander this opportunity. But on the condition that you make me a promise."

"Of course... just name it."

"Don't you ever... ever... put me in that position again," Johnny said sternly. "I want you to not just think of yourself as a masculinist, I want you to be a masculinist. I want you to promise me that when you take your place in that boardroom up there that you'll make a stand against the way men like me are treated, in and out of the workplace."

Mrs. Martinsen leaned forward and looked him in the eye.

"I promise you, Johnny, I'll make it my personal mission," she replied sincerely. "I want to thank you, Johnny, you've taught me a valuable lesson that I won't ever forget in a hurry. And thank you for not insisting I be given the punishment I so rightly deserve."

A further thoughtful silence ensued as they sat and looked at each other over the desk.

"I guess this means I can look for a nicer flat," Johnny said eventually.

"Why settle for a flat?" his boss responded. "You could buy yourself a house - a nice little place across the river over in Greenwich, perhaps. Or even out in the suburbs somewhere - I'm sure that cat of yours would love to have a little garden to prowl around in."

"Perhaps," Johnny mused. "And what about you, Mrs. Director of Corporate Relations? I guess you'll be wanting to look for a new place that's more befitting of your new position on the company board?"

"Maybe," she responded. "Or a little weekend cottage out in the countryside somewhere."

A lengthy pause ensued before Martinsen spoke once more.

"So... am I forgiven? For what I did?" she asked him tentatively.

Johnny had to consider his answer for a few moments. Once the initial disgust at how she'd offered him to Mrs. Connor, now somewhat diluted by the outgoing chairwoman's offer of promotion for them both, and the shame he felt in himself for not leaving Connor's suite when he'd had a chance to had worn off, in retrospect it hadn't been quite as bad an experience as he'd thought when he returned to his flat. The sex, although not something he'd wanted at the time, hadn't been entirely without pleasure, and to her credit Mrs. Connor hadn't been rough with him. Sure, she had plied him with champagne and martinis that had somewhat dulled his senses and caused him to drop his guard, and though he'd had sex with her under duress it wasn't entirely without his consent. And he couldn't deny that he'd played a pivotal role in saving the takeover deal with VMC from falling through, even if it had been rather unethical, and he felt that his employers now owed him.

And really, when he thought about it he realised that his boss had been pretty much backed into a corner by the powerful American business executive - Mrs. Connor had seen Johnny from a distance and she'd clearly become a little infatuated with him, and powerful women blessed with the power of persuasion have an uncanny knack of getting what they want, and it was with that thought in mind that he concluded that it was Mrs. Connor who was the real villain of the piece.

"I shouldn't forgive you, Mrs. M," he replied to her. "But on this one occasion I'm willing to."

Johnny's boss breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank you," she said, her stuttering exhalation concealing the fact that she was almost in tears.

"But next time you need me to sleep with some woman in order to save a crucial business deal from falling apart, I'd be grateful if at least you could let me know before she tries to get into my pants," he added.

"Of course," his boss assured him. "But I promise you I won't ever put you in that position again."

"Oh, come off it, Mrs. M," Johnny scoffed. "You and I both know that what happened last night won't be the last time I'm used as a bargaining chip. But at least next time I'd be more willing if I was in the possession of all the facts and I know exactly what is and isn't expected of me."

"You... you'd really consider... um... doing it again?" she asked him.

"If people's jobs were at stake, then yes, I guess," he replied. "I mean, the genie's out of the bottle now, what's done is done. And though it goes against everything I once stood for as a determined hard-working boy, if it achieves a positive result for the company and saves people's jobs, then I guess using my "boyish charms" to sweeten the deal would be a sacrifice worth making."

"Seriously?"

"I guess," Johnny responded. "But only, and I mean only, if people's jobs are at stake."

"Dame McAllan has no idea how lucky she is to have you on her payroll," Martinsen said with genuine honesty and very real admiration. "But we mustn't breathe a word of any of this to her, okay? You know how much she prides herself on how ethical her business practices are, and her philosophy of respect and equality for her male employees."

That last remark was an indirect quote from an interview Dame McAllan had given for a magazine article about men's roles within modern media companies, and she'd waxed lyrical about how she prided herself on how her male employees were treated. Maybe her words had been hollow and merely for appearances sake, but Johnny had taken them at face value, and during his time working for the company he'd grown to genuinely respect the chairwoman. He knew how damaging it would be if news of how the deal with Verbier Media Corporation had been clinched ever made it out into the public sphere, and he didn't want to risk tarnishing Dame McAllan's reputation, even if it meant Mrs. Connor getting away with taking advantage of him.

"Maybe," he agreed diplomatically.

"Well, I definitely don't deserve you, Johnny," Martinsen said, as she got up from her chair and picked her overcoat off the coat stand in the corner of the room. "So I'm going to take Dame McAllan's advice and head into town - I owe you big-time, so I'm taking you out for lunch and I'm not taking no for an answer."

"Is that an order, Mrs. M?" Johnny asked her.

"It most definitely is," Martinsen confirmed.

* * * * * *

"So, she just came into the room in only her bra and knickers?" Martinsen amusedly asked Johnny later that afternoon in the exclusive Patisserie Marseilles in Covent Garden, with a fresh cafetière of finest Columbian coffee and a selection of delectable pastries laid out before them.