Three Times! A Lady?

This is a little wander through realms of improbability; concerning a confused young man and his interactions with one particular member of female of our species. Of course it is possible that the young lady in question, had just came up with a novel approach to solving the age old problem of "not being noticed" by her intended pray.

My thanks go to SH for her assistance in preparing this improbable tale for posting.

Three Times! A Lady?

Okay, the first time it happened it took me by such surprise that I really didn't take too much notice. Well now, that isn't exactly true; but she came at me from nowhere and to be honest I'm still not sure of what really went down that day.

The second time it happened... well, I figured that it just had to be a case of mistaken identity or something.

But the third time, that a complete stranger walked up to me and slapped me around the face, I really thought that it was about time I had a talk to the lady in question, and found out what her bleeding problem was.

Look okay, the first time I came across her... or rather felt her distain. I was out with the lads on Ronnie's stag do, and their had been highly probable that one of the guys might have taken a verbal liberty or two with the young lady, that she had mistakenly attributed to myself. Consequently -- when I'd regained my senses -- I kind-a took whoever's punishment with a grin, and laughed-it-off best I could.

Well, I have to admit that -- with the quick glance I'd got of her -- I'd observed that she was one very tast... er, desirable looking female. And as the guys were getting a little on the horny side; after we'd visited three of London's less reputable gentlemen's entertainment establishments in quick succession. It seemed obvious to me... highly probable even, that one of the guys might have overstepped the bounds of acceptable behaviour, and said something he shouldn't, if you get my drift.

I'll add, we'd been unceremoniously requested to make ourselves scarce from each club in rather rapid succession. Anyway there we were, discussing which purveyor of intoxicating liquors establishment, we were going to get thrown-out-of next. When suddenly this gorgeous looking brunette strides up to me... and -- without a by-your-leave -- clocks me one, right round the kisser. Much to the amusement of my inebriated mates, I might add. Then, just as quickly as she'd appeared, the woman was gone again. My memory of the remainder of that evening is sort-of shrouded in alcoholic haze, even if my credit card statement assured me that it had been a night I should remember.

==========================

Whatever, several months had passed and I was standing by the exit gate to the passport and customs control area in Heathrow airport one afternoon, when the brunette made her second appearance.

Once again I didn't really see her approach, basically because I was watching out for my sister and her husband's imminent arrival. The brunette was suddenly standing there before me, and then, without uttering a word, she up and clouted me one again. The smack came from nowhere; well, I never saw the bugger coming anyway!

"What got her knickers into such a twist, Toby?" My sister -- who unfortunately had managed to witness that incident -- asked.

"Buggered if I know, Sis! But I think that's the same bird who left that red mark on my face after Ronnie's Stag night."

"So, just what did you do to upset her so much that night?"

"Honest Sis, I told you at the time, I never said a bloody word to her. Shit, it was just like this time; I never even saw her coming, until she ups and clocks me one."

"And you expect me to believe that?"

The expression on my sister's face, informed me that my reputation as 'Mr Nice Guy', had taken somewhat of a knock, in her eyes. I'm not too sure what her in-laws -- who were also travelling with her -- made of the encounter either.

==========================

Okay, several more months passed and then there I was, at a big company do in a flash hotel in town. Every bugger I work with on a daily basis was there, plus all the company top brass, including the big cheese himself, and almost everyone's respective spouses as well. As a company, we were celebrating an extremely successful year and several of us minions were supposed to be receiving presentations of some sort for our valiant efforts on the company's behalf; hopefully big cash bonus's.

This time I actually did spot her coming, but still far too late to take any kind of avoiding action.

"Smack!" my head snapped around like Cassius Clay had just landed me one, and I staggered backwards for a few paces; almost falling over.

Something had to be done about this, I kinda had it figured that the bird had to be either working out at the gym, or something. She appeared to getting far more proficient at landing her slaps with practise. However, I was beginning to get just a little bit pissed-off that she was forever using my face to practise on.

And besides, she had embarrassed me somewhat, first in front of my friends, then my family and finally in front of my work colleagues

"Just a bloody minute miss?" I said chasing after her and taking firm hold of her arm as she tried to make her usual smart get away. "What in heaven's name was all that in aid of?"

She turned and looked me directly in the eye; boy, could I see that there was real contempt in her expression. But before she or I had the chance to say anything much else, my department manager -- one John Hewlett, an arse-kisser extraordinaire whom I was not particularly fond of -- was on the scene.

"Toby, unhand Miss Wendy this instant. How dare you touch Miss Montague in such a manner?" Hewlett demanded.

"But she just..." I tried to explain.

But Hewlett wasn't in listening mode.

"Toby, I'm disappointed in you, you do not manhandle young ladies like that; especially the new chairman's daughter. Well, not in my presence you don't anyway!"

"John, she just slapped me around the face for no reason whatsoever."

"Oh don't talk rubbish lad. What did you say to upset her?"

"Nothing, I've never spoken to the girl in my life before. She just upped and smacked me one."

"Don't give me that sh... rubbish, boy! Nice young ladies don't go around striking people without just cause. Most likely you said something out of turn. Your trouble is young man, that you are far too headstrong; I've warned you about that it the past. God, you'll be lucky if Mr Montague doesn't demand that you're contract is terminated over this! I've got a good mind to terminate it myself anyway."

Now up to a point, John Hewlett was right; I am naturally headstrong. I'm a decision maker, and that's what had made me so successful in my job. Whereas, some of my colleagues tend to procrastinate, rather than commit the company to any particular course of action; I don't beat around the bush. I make snap decisions on the information that's available at the time and usually they turn out to be correct. Of course I'd have studied every angle anyway and consequently I've usually prepared for almost anything that goes down. That was the main reason I'd risen to number two in the department at such a young age, hard work and preparation, whilst the rest of the guys were wittering away to one another

Headstrong I might be, but something that I have never been, is short tempered. Unfortunately everyman has his breaking point though.

This Wendy bird striking and embarrassing me in front of my peers on three separate occasions -- and without any reason that I was aware off -- had pushed my self-control to the extreme limit.

John Hewlett -- never my favourite person, who had regularly taken the credit for my hard work -- stepping into the fray and making threats of dismissal, was the proverbial straw that broke the Camel's back.

"You can stuff your effing contract right up your bleeding arse." I found myself replying. "This ain't the only company in the world!"

With those words I found myself heading out of the hotel's reception room, alone. None of the other guys dared come after me to try and calm me down. They knew me too well, and they were also scared shitless of John Hewlett.

==========================

I'm not completely sure of where I went for the rest of the evening. A couple of pubs to start with, I think, and then at least one nightclub; where I could drink until I lost track of everything.

Wherever I went, I somehow managed to get home safely, and get my mobile phone lifted as well. Well, possibly I just mislaid the thing!

Whatever, sometime during the Sunday afternoon, I was awoken by the telephone; with a headache to rival all others before or since.

"Toby mate, where the fuck did you get too?" A so-called mate from the office asked.

"I dunno Tony, I tied one on a bit."

"Jesus mate, I've been calling you all bloody morning, was there some hell to pay after you done a runner last night. You were supposed to be the number one star of the show, you know?"

"Who gives a shit?"

"Jesus mate, Montague was standing up on the stage singing your praises and telling everyone that you had made the greatest contribution to the company's success this year, and you were a bloody no show. He looked like a real prune when someone told him you'd left earlier."

"Did they also tell him I'd quit?"

"No, I don't think anyone dared. Anyway it was in the heat of the moment; no one believes you meant it."

I told you that I'm a snap decision maker, maybe what I didn't say was that, once I've made a decision, I bloody-well stick with it. Probably that was the reason that I did so well in my job; at work I was decisive and didn't get cold feet later and change my mind.

Regretfully, I hadn't always been as astute when it came to the female of our species and of late had been avoiding emotional involvement with any of them.

"Have you ever known me to change my mind, Tony?"

"Oh come on, Toby mate. This is a little different; your career is involved here."

"Tony, Markham's isn't the only company in the world. And besides, John Hewlett and me have been at loggerheads for so bloody long, I'm sick of it. I'm gone mate, and that's the end of it!"

"But your bonus?"

"They can stuff their effing bonus right up their bleeding Jacksey's for all I care. Look Tony, I've only just woken up and I need the loo rather urgently, right now. I'll see you Monday when I come in to pick up my gear to say good-by!"

With that, I hung up the phone. Tony was one of John Hewlett's arse-kissers; I couldn't really be bothered with the man.

During the afternoon, until I pulled the plug on my landline, I received several more anxious calls from concerned work colleagues. I had no idea where my mobile phone had gone, and eventually figured that I must have lost it during my binge session. I never did see the thing again, and had to get a replacement a few days later.

Anyway, besides hearing repeats about the debacle of my presentation, that didn't happen. I picked up on some rumours about the reason why Wendy Montague had chosen to clock me one. The consensus of opinion appeared to be, that it concerned an incident that had occurred on the island of Martinique.

"Martinique, what the fuck was supposed to have happened there? Where is the place anyway, ain't it one of the places the poseurs go to? Can you imagine me going to a place like that?" I demanded of the guy who first mentioned the island to me.

"I don't know for sure. In the Caribbean isn't it. Christ mate you're the bloody sailor; I figure you know where your going."

"Yeah round the coast and down to the bloody Med when I can get the chance. I ain't likely to risk taking my little boat across the bleeding Atlantic, am I? Anyway I'm not even sure Martinique is in the Caribbean, it could be one of those flash places in the Indian Ocean, for all I know."

==========================

I weren't in any hurry to arrive at the office on the Monday morning. The boxing of your own gear and walking out with it, is always the most embarrassing part of leaving any job. I kind of hung around in a local café until I figured most people would have gone off to lunch.

"Hi Toby. John would like to see you. He told me to ask you to go to his office the minute you arrive."

"You told me Claire, and I don't care sweet FA about what Hewlett wants. I'll be packing my gear and then heading up to personnel. If he wants me, he better find me before I'm done."

Poor Claire, the department's communal secretary and PA, didn't know what to say. I don't believe she had seen me angry before. Well not openly hostile to everyone anyway.

I was waiting for the lift up to the fifth floor, when the two security guys arrived in a lift that was on its way down. At the time, the significance of the lifts direction didn't strike me as important. Neither did the fact that they got into the lift with me for the ride up to personnel on the fifth floor. After all, I'd seen employees who'd been fired, escorted from the building a few times in the past.

What did strike me as odd though, was that one of them hogged the control panel and pressed the button for the seventh floor, where all the big-knobs hang out.

"I want the fifth." I told the donkey.

"No mate, you are wanted on the seventh floor!" He replied, with a 'You really don't want to argue with me!' tone to his voice.

Taking into account the size of the guy, and the fact that there were just the three of us in the lift -- and consequently there would be no independent witnesses -- I chose to take the advice implied by his tone.

On the hallowed seventh floor -- a place I'd rarely had the opportunity to visit -- it was indicated that I should proceed towards the chairman's office. An inner sanctum, I knew of no man who'd ever entered and lived to tell the tale.

A very tasty, but at the same time extremely efficient looking secretary, leapt from behind her desk as my escort and I approached and tried to wrestle my precious cardboard box from me. Eventually she conceded that it was my damned cardboard box, and I was bloody-well keeping the bleeding thing; then she opened the gigantic door to the chairman's domain and ushered me inside.

"Toby! There you are at last, my lad. I was getting a little concerned that you weren't going to put in an appearance today." Mr Montague said rising from his seat and coming around his massive desk, all the while holding out his hand in welcome.

I couldn't exactly shake the proffered hand, because I was holding my precious cardboard box full of junk, wasn't I?

After a little confusion, Montague took the box from me and placed it on his desk. Then he shook my hand, somewhat overenthusiastically.

"Now, what can I get you to drink Toby... Scotch, or do you prefer Brandy?"

"I er..."

"Suzy can make us tea or coffee, if you'd prefer. Now, which will it be?"

I didn't want anything really; I just wanted to know what the chuffing-'ell was going on. But I found myself replying. "Coffee, I think sir!"

Hitting a button on his desk, Montague asked the lovely Suzy to make two coffees, then he turned back to me.

"Now sit down, my boy?" He said, indicating towards a massive three-piece suite that adorned one corner of his office. I sat on the sofa and he settled himself into one of the armchairs.

Almost at the same instant as Suzy -- his sexy secretary -- taking me by surprise, appeared in the office and went round behind Montague's private bar. Every-time I looked in a different direction, I spotted something else, and the room appeared even bigger than I'd first thought it was.

Suzy smiled at me and began making the coffees, whilst Mr Montague muttered inconsequential pleasantries to me, I think. I'll admit, that as overwhelmed by being in the big cheese's presence as I was; my concentration was all but completely taken up by the gorgeous Suzy. Eventually she placed a cup before both Montague and myself. Then left the office again, carrying the third; for herself I assumed.

"Now my lad, are you one difficult man to get a hold of? I've had people trying to get in touch with you since first thing this morning." Montague said with humour in his voice.

"I've been a little busy, Mr Montague. I do have to find alternative employment after all."

That was a lie of course, my telephone back at the flat was still unplugged, and as I've said, I'd lost my bloody mobile. But I figured it kind-a sounded the right thing to say at the time. Sort-a rubbed the point home that I was no longer one of his humble minions.

"Now, now lad, that is a silly and short sighted attitude, Toby. Sometimes, we all may say things in the heat of the moment, that we don't really mean." He suggested with a grin on his face.

I had never met the man in person before. Well, he was the new chairman who had the reputation of being a ruthless businessman; so I was a little surprised at his demeanour and the conciliatory line that he was apparently taking with me. But I was still on the offensive, and distrusting of the bugger.

"Mr Montague. Sometimes, in the heat of the moment we get the inclination to say things we should have said much sooner. Personally I can't stand John Hewlett, I never have liked working under the guy since he took over the department. What happened on Saturday evening was bound to happen at some time or the other; the incident with your daughter was only the catalyst."

"Ah yes, Wendy! Hmm, well, I'm afraid she can get a little headstrong on occasion; a little like yourself, in fact. I'm not sure what happened between you two out on Martinique; whether it was just a misunderstanding or something. Whatever it was, she'll get over it eventually."

"Mr Montague, I've never been to bloody Martinique in my entire life. If you don't mind me saying, that sort of place, just isn't my scene!"

An expression of surprise came over Montague's face.

"That's odd, Wendy doesn't usually lie. She seemed pretty adamant that you and her were involved in a lia... er, an incident on Martinique last year."

"Then she's mistaken sir. I've never been to the place in my entire life! Actually I'm not even sure where it is."

"Oh my, how odd." Montague looked thoughtful for a few moments, and then went on. "Oh dear, your sister said that Wendy had... er, accosted you in a similar manner at the airport some weeks ago, as well as on Saturday evening. That is embarrassing."

"And outside a club in town here a few months back. That time she chose to clock me one, in front of my friends. Your daughter, is extremely efficient sir; she's managed to make a scene in front of my friends, my family and then finally my work colleagues. I'd call that a full house wouldn't you? My problem is, that I have no idea why she's taken to using my face as a punching ball."

"Oh my god, the silly girl. You could have had her charged with assault."

"Yes I could have; but I'm unusually patient with the mentally challenged. I just thought she'd escaped from Shenley or somewhere."

"Shenley?"

"Yes, it's a special hospital out near St Albans."

"Oh, somewhat along the lines of Bedlam I presume. That's where her mother and I thought we were going to end-up several times when Wendy was younger. Wendy always has been a bit of a handful!"

"Yeah, you're on the right track. I'd never clapped eyes on your daughter in my life, before she assaulted me the night in April, outside a... nightclub. I was with some friends and we laughed off that first incident.

"After our second brief encounter at Heathrow, I figured that she was just a nutcase and ignored it as best I could. Although that particular incident did carry some unexpected repercussions for me. And then at the reception on Saturday evening I figured it was time to have it out with the young lady. I had no idea who she was, but I really can't go through the rest of my life wondering when she's going to pop up out of the woodwork, and clock me one again.