Parallel Lives Pt. 03

With his bank account considerably depleted and his arms weighed down with bags, getting some shoes to go with his new outfits was his next priority. Johnny left the shop and waited outside to hail a passing taxi to take him to Knightsbridge, hoping that its driver wouldn't be as odious as the one that had brought him to Savile Row. He breathed a sigh of relief when, as the black cab pulled up before him, he noticed that its driver was a man - quite a rarity in a society where men made up only a fifth of the population and where driving a taxi was considered as being "an unsuitable job for a man". This time the chatter between driver and passenger would be jovial and fraternal, rather than tasteless flirting and lurid obscenities.

* * * * * *

The next morning, Johnny returned to the office with his purchases as instructed, and after briefly meeting with his boss and catching up on emails and sorting through her agenda for the day, he returned to Dame McAllan's office to show her what he'd bought the day before. Unsurprisingly, she was in a meeting at the time he arrived outside her office suite, but her PA informed him that she shouldn't be long and that she'd already cleared a window in her schedule for him.

Sure enough, after around ten minutes the door to the chairwoman's office opened and Dame McAllan exited, followed by a smartly dressed businesswoman.

"Ah, Johnny, there you are. Thanks for coming up," McAllan said with a friendly smile once the other businesswoman had departed. "Cassie, could you hold all my calls for the next half hour or so?"

"Yes, Dame McAllan," her PA replied politely.

"Right, come on in and show me what you've got," McAllan then turned to Johnny, and beckoned him into her capacious suite.

Carrying the bags containing all the stuff he'd purchased, including all of the receipts, he followed her in.

"So, did you enjoy yourself in Savile Row yesterday, Johnny?" she asked him as she sat behind her desk.

"Yeah, it was quite fun actually," he responded as he set everything down on a nearby armchair. "Although the same can't be said for the cab ride there. The driver wasn't the most pleasant woman I've ever encountered, that's for sure!"

"Oh, really? In what way?" she asked him.

"Well, I shan't go into too much detail, but she definitely made me feel uncomfortable," he replied with a slight shudder. "I felt I was lucky to get out of her cab with my dignity intact, let's put it that way!"

"For real? She was flirting you?" McAllan gasped.

"Well, that's one way to put it," Johnny huffed. "She certainly made her intentions clear when we were stuck in a queue on the Embankment and she suggested we could pass the time by me letting her see what's in my pants!"

"Ugh! She certainly sounds like a pretty vile woman! Did you get her badge number? Perhaps you ought to report her," the chairwoman responded with evident disgust.

"I should've done, in hindsight," Johnny answered. "But I was more concerned with getting out and paying the fare as quickly as possible."

"Anyway, fortunately women like her are the exception," McAllan went on.

"Yeah, yeah," Johnny scoffed. "Haven't heard the old "not all women are like that" thing a million times before!"

"That's only because it's true," McAllan countered. "I can assure you, Johnny, I'm definitely not that kind of woman, and I don't tolerate that kind of thing in my company."

Even though it's not actually your company anymore, Johnny thought to himself, referring to the recent takeover.

"Anyway, let's see what you've bought," McAllan continued, evidently wanting to move on to the job at hand.

So Johnny unzipped the first of two suit bags, containing the navy blue and pink ensemble and draped it over the armchair for the chairwoman's appraisal.

"Hmm, it certainly looks nice enough," she mused aloud. "Of course, I can't reserve full judgement until I've seen you wearing it."

"You want me to model it for you?" Johnny responded.

"Of course I do," McAllan confirmed. "You can change over in my washroom."

She pointed towards a discrete doorway in the corner of the room.

"Um, I suppose so," Johnny answered, not wanting to disobey the chairwoman.

He picked everything up and stepped into the washroom. He was immediately taken aback by the opulence of the room compared to the normal staff facilities elsewhere in the building - it was all smart polished wood and marble, rather than cheaper materials and more austere lighting. He hung his outfit on a hook on the back of the door, and with a sigh he started to undress.

A few minutes later, and after checking his reflection in the mirror, he stepped back into McAllen's office wearing the smart navy blue three-piece suit.

"So? What do you reckon? Does it pass muster?" he asked her as he modelled the outfit for her scrutiny.

"Oh, yes," the chairwoman enthused. "I think that'll do very nicely! You look so handsome, Johnny, that colour combination really suits you."

"Thanks - the woman who served me at Graves and Haskins definitely knows her stuff," he responded to her compliment.

"Now I can definitely agree with you there," McAllan smiled. "I buy all of my husband's suits there - they always know how to make a man look his very best. I applaud your good taste, Johnny."

"I'm glad you like it, Dame McAllan," Johnny replied with genuine appreciation.

"Now then, how about the other one?" the chairwoman enquired as she pointed towards the second suit bag.

"Oh, it's nothing really special - just a formal evening suit," he responded, referring to the standard nature of men's formal evening attire, hoping that he wouldn't have to model that outfit as well. "I'm pretty sure Lord McAllan has one pretty much identical to it."

"Well, yes he does," Dame McAllan replied. "But all the same, I'd like to see what you look like in a proper evening suit."

Realising that he wasn't going to get out of it, Johnny sighed, picked up the second suit bag and stepped back into the washroom where he stripped out of one outfit and put on the other. After once more checking his reflection and making sure he'd tied his black silk bow tie correctly, he stepped back into the office for Dame McAllan's scrutiny.

"My word, Johnny," she exclaimed as soon as she saw him dressed in the formal suit. "That looks absolutely stunning on you!"

"Even though it's pretty much identical to what all the other men will be wearing?" Johnny enquired.

"For men at evening functions it's all about looking smart -- and you look exceptionally smart in that suit, Johnny," McAllan assured him.

"So, you approve of everything then, Dame McAllan?" Johnny asked, keen to get changed back into his normal work clothes and to get on with the rest of his day.

"Absolutely," the chairwoman assured him. "You can go and get changed and get back to work now."

"Thank you, Dame McAllan," he responded, and turned to return to the washroom.

Entertaining Mrs. Verbier

Resplendently attired in his navy blue suit, Johnny waited patiently in the reception lounge of Biggin Hill airport. Unlike the much larger and busier hubs of Heathrow, Gatwick and Stanstead, Biggin Hill was a much more discrete port of entry for someone as powerful as the CEO of one of the world's largest media corporations. It specialised in accommodating private business jets rather than commercial traffic, but despite its modest size it still included full immigration and customs facilities, only without the inconvenience of queueing.

Sophia Verbier's plane was scheduled to land at 11am, but it soon became apparent that her arrival had been delayed, and as the clock ticked towards midday, Johnny felt increasingly nervous - even though the takeover had been legally approved and signed off, he still knew there was a lot riding on the corporate president's visit.

Finally, just before the stroke of midday, Sophia Verbier's private jet, a fully converted Boeing 777, came into land. Johnny's heart rate immediately quickened as soon as it taxied to a halt on the apron before the terminal building. This was it. Sophia Verbier and her entourage quickly passed through customs and passport control, and after less than ten minutes since the jet's landing gear touched the ground, Johnny found himself face to face with one of the most powerful businesswomen in the world.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Verbier," Johnny greeted the VIP with a suitably cordial smile and a firm handshake. "Allow me to introduce myself - I am Johnathan Morgan, corporate entertainments officer at WV Media, and I'm here to escort you to your hotel, and to ensure your visit is as pleasurable as possible."

"My, my, Johnathan, you sure are a sight for sore eyes after such a long flight!" Verbier said with a smile as she offered him her hand.

"Please, call me Johnny, Mrs. Verbier," he replied. "Everyone does."

"Well, if you insist on being informal, I insist you call me Sophia," Verbier countered.

"As you wish, um, Sophia," Johnny answered. "Please follow me - we have a car waiting outside."

What struck him almost immediately was the sheer size of the woman. Though not actually obese, she was nonetheless carrying more than a few extra pounds, and she was tall too -- a clear couple of inches taller than himself.

He ushered her out of the small terminal building and onto the forecourt where a limousine was waiting along with several other cars for the rest of her entourage. Their destination was Gorringes Hotel, where the presidential suite, which took up its entire top floor, had been reserved for the duration of Verbier's visit to the United Kingdom. The rest of her party, which included her personal trainer, her own chef, reflexologist and stylist, several PA's (all of whom, Johnny couldn't help but notice, were all young and very handsome men) and a small battalion of security guards. In contrast to Verbier's all-male line-up of PA's, her security personnel were all burly and rather muscular women - most likely former Marines or Navy SEAL's).

The motorcade set off for central London, accompanied by a couple of police outriders that helped keep the way clear through the suburban traffic.

"Dame McAllen sends her best wishes, and is looking forward to meeting you tomorrow evening for the official launch of WV Media," Johnny said as the limo gracefully ambled along the road towards the centre of the city. "In the meantime, I am at your complete disposal - if there is anything you require, or anything you wish to do during your stay, I shall make whatever arrangements are necessary."

"Johnny Morgan, huh?" Verbier replied. "You're Louise Martinsen's Personal Assistant, am I right?"

"I am, yes," Johnny confirmed politely.

"Susan Connor spoke very highly of you," Verbier continued. "She says she enjoyed her night at the theatre with you especially.

Suddenly, Johnny felt a flash of recollection of what had happened afterthe theatre trip in Connor's room at the Winchester.

"It was a genuine pleasure to accompany her," he responded diplomatically, hoping that he sounded sincere enough.

"You know, I've always wanted to see a proper game of soccer," Verbier announced as she helped herself to a glass of champagne from the limousine's onboard drinks cabinet. "My husband is a huge fan of the Premier League, and he tells me that Arsenal are playing against Newcastle tonight - do you think you could get me in to the game?"

"I shall see what I can do," Johnny answered as he took his phone from his pocket. "Is Mr. Verbier not with you on this visit?"

"Unfortunately he is unwell at the moment," Verbier responded as she sipped her champagne. "He's currently at our mountain retreat in the Rockies recovering from a bad dose of flu."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Sophia," Johnny replied, this time entirely sincerely. "Please pass him my best wishes, and from all of us at WV Media."

Verbier nodded her appreciation for the sentiment, and returned her attention to her glass of champagne as Johnny set about trying to secure some form of access to the evening's football match. After several minutes searching online he managed to get the contact details of Arsenal FC's main office - having someone as high profile as Sophia Verbier at one of their games would be a real coup for the team, so he hoped to have no trouble at all getting her into one of the executive boxes.

Sure enough, once he'd called Arsenal's offices and been put through to the right person, getting Sophia Verbier, himself, and several other members of her entourage and security detail into the chairwoman's executive box, as personal guests of the club's chairwoman herself no less, was actually fairly straightforward. They were only too happy to accommodate her, especially since the game was being televised that evening, and a shot of Sophia Verbier enjoying the game alongside the club chairwoman would be great publicity.

"I've had to pull a few strings, but I've managed to get you in as a guest of the chairwoman in her private suite," he announced proudly as he replaced his phone in his pocket. "Kick-off is at eight o'clock, but pre-match drinks and canapés will be available from seven."

"Excellent," Verbier answered with a smile. "Good work, Johhny dear."

Clearly, the whole exercise had been some kind of test of his abilities, Johnny assumed, and if that had indeed been the case, he felt a warm sense of satisfaction that he'd been able to pull it off with aplomb. And it was with that warm feeling inside that he enjoyed the rest of the limousine ride into the centre of London, and the exclusive hotel that awaited.

* * * * * *

As Verbier's official "fixer" during her brief stay in London, Johnny dealt with the checking in process at the hotel as Verbier and the rest of her accompanying party went straight upstairs towards their various suites and rooms. At least here, carrying out an administrative task, he felt more in his comfort zone, and it only took half an hour or so to get everyone and everything (for Verbier was also being accompanied by her two dogs - a couple of miniature schnauzers named Minnie and Bipper) checked in. Once that was all taken care of he headed up towards the presidential suite to be reunited with the formidable Sophia Verbier.

"What exactly does someone wear to a soccer game, Johnny?" she asked him as he entered the lavishly appointed suite.

Her personal stylist already had a rack of outfits out from the huge number of suitcases Verbier had brought along with her, and numerous garments of varying degrees of formality were being laid out for her approval. He could have answered that he had no idea himself, for he too had never been to a football match before, but he knew that he ought to at least proffer a couple of fairly logical suggestions.

"Well, I suppose something not too formal," he began. "It is only a football match after all. But on the other hand, I don't think it'd look good to be going into an executive box looking too casual either. I guess something smart but comfortable ought to be fine. Oh, and something warm too - it can get pretty cold when you're sat out in the open during the game."

"Thank you, Johnny, that's most helpful," Verbier smiled in reply. "Chantal, you heard him - pick me something smart but comfortable, and a decent coat and scarf of some kind."

"Oui, Madame Verbier," her French stylist replied, and returned to picking out items from the rack of clothes.

"So, Johnny, why don't you come on over here and tell me a bit about yourself?" Verbier suggested, as she patted a spot beside her on one of the three large settees arranged around an enormous glass topped coffee table before a roaring open fire in the large marble fireplace.

She of course had worded it as an invitation, but Johnny knew that for a powerful woman like Sophia Verbier, it was nothing less than a direct order. So not wanting to cause any upset, he did as he was told.

"Well, there's not an awful lot to say really," he began. "I'm just an ordinary boy who grew up in the countryside. I'm from Devon originally, from a little village on the edge of Dartmoor - it was rather idyllic actually, growing up there with my mum and dad."

"Your dad lived with you, huh?" Verbier queried, for it was somewhat rare for children to have both their parents in their lives, as almost all conception now took place in Fertility Centres.

"Yeah, well, he's not my biological dad," Johnny replied. "But he adopted me as his own when he married my mum. I was the envy of all my friends - none of them had dads at home like I did. Pity almost all of them are gone now."

"So what made you leave it all behind?" Verbier asked him as one of her minions placed a tray of freshly percolated coffee in a solid silver coffee pot and two cups on the table before them.

"Well, I wanted more from life than just being a country boy," Johnny answered truthfully. "And I definitely didn't want to be married off to whichever woman convinced my parents would be best for me. So I went off to university, and once I'd graduated I managed to get a job at Wharfside Productions."

"You enjoy working there?" she asked.

"I love it," he replied. "And I look forward to being a part of our new Anglo-American partnership."

They continued to converse amiably as Verbier's minions busied themselves waiting upon the powerful CEO and carrying out various tasks on her behalf. After a short while, the hotel's manager came in (after first having to get past the two security women posted at the door to the suite) to check that everything was to Mrs. Verbier's satisfaction and to personally welcome her back to the establishment. Much to his surprise, Johnny found Verbier to be rather pleasant company, at least on a conversational level, but something she had said earlier in the car on the way there about Mrs. Connor singing his praises made him feel a little uneasy. Just how much of his "company" did she want to enjoy? And what exactly had Mrs. Connor said that he would be willing to do for her?

Verbier had requested the manager have a "genuine English afternoon tea" sent up to the suite, and a little under twenty minutes later a young hotel employee entered the suite (again, after having been checked over by the security women outside in the corridor) pushing a small trolley before him. Verbier appeared to give the young man a rather longer appraising look than was strictly necessary, and it definitely wasn't Johnny's imagination playing tricks on him when he saw her checking out the outline of his behind in his rather tight fitting trousers.

"I'll let you pour the tea, Johnny," Verbier said in her Californian accent after the young man left the room. "Seeing as you're the expert."

He was about to tell her that just because he was English, it didn't mean he was an expert when it came to serving tea - he always preferred coffee anyway - but he knew enough to get by, and he remembered that since it was loose leaf tea that the hotel had served them with, to be sure that the tea strainer was in place before pouring it into the cup.

"We have an old saying here - "I'll let you be mother," quite where that little phrase comes from I have no idea," Johnny said as he poured. "I mean, even back when there were more men in the world I'm sure fathers poured tea just as often as mothers did."

"Maybe it's just something that'll just always be lost in the mists of time," Verbier observed as she accepted her cup and saucer of freshly brewed tea.

"Perhaps," Johnny replied thoughtfully, and sipped his tea.

Whilst he was not a lover of tea, he had to admit that the particular blend that the hotel had served them was rather pleasant and about ten times nicer than tea made from the cheap mass produced teabags that most of his colleagues routinely preferred back at the office. The conversation turned to football, and the various differences between the English and American versions and the way their respective leagues were structured.