Steel World Inc. Chapter Two

 

Miss Madison’s personal office was situated on the fifth floor and was the size of an open plan apartment, with a glass window wall view of the Thames. A large curved desk topped with frosted glass dominated the room, on which three iMac screens were fixed in place. Close by was a rectangular sunken floor with two L-shaped sofas and a low table of irregular shaped timber sealed in a dark amber veneer. 

 

I watched as Miss Madison wiggle-walked to her desk, smoothed down the back of her pencil skirt, and sat herself delicately down in the large executive swivel chair, with her back to the Thames facing window wall. The careful way she moved to be seated suggested I had guessed correctly about the body support corset under garments that gave her such a sexy hour glass figure.   

 

“Sit,” she said, indicating the two chairs facing her. 

 

She smiled as she recognised the look on my face. “You’re impressed. Good. Take a look around and understand this is your possible future, Simon Rogers. Whatever you want, if you want it enough.”

 

“Miss Madison…”

 

She steepled her fingers and tilted her head, indicating I could speak.

 

“Miss Madison, I’m very excited to be working in Enterprise Resource Planning and Modular Design. Thank you for taking me on.”

 

“You were recommended by one of my team.”

 

She referred of course to James Marlow, my friend from university, who had secured a job with Steel World four months ago. 

 

“He spoke very highly of the company.”

 

“And so he should. James is making great strides.” Miss Madison leaned forward a little. “Great strides. He’s quite a man.”

 

That was true enough. Unlike me, James was the sort of man who was commonly referred to as an ‘alpha male’, I supposed. Rugged good looks, sporty, large physique and a sort of cocky attitude with girls that I found outdated and passé in modern society. It was a source of bewilderment that he enjoyed so many girls at university – often the very same girls who had complained to me about loutish men who undressed them with their eyes. James would treat women as sex objects, and they didn’t seem to mind! It was incredible! I would spend weeks discussing cinema and politics with a girl, who would gladly go for a milk shake and ice cream with me, and spend the evening confiding to me ‘what men were like’, with a rolling of her eyes, and then a few days later I’d find that James had stroked her bottom in a night club, bought her a drink, played with her breasts on the dance floor, and slept with her that same night. 

 

I had previously been relating to the girl as a respected equal for maybe three to four weeks, becoming close enough that she would ask me to accompany her clothes shopping, but all it took for James to get her into bed was…

 

“Are you daydreaming, Simon?” Miss Madison gazed at me.

 

“No, what, sorry?”

 

“I asked you how long have you known James?”

 

“Um, since the first year of University. We shared a room together in the first term, but then by the second term he moved in with…”

 

Deborah Boulden.

 

And Cynthia Etchel.

 

Deborah AND Cynthia. 

 

Both beautiful girls. Deborah had been smitten with James, and with some money from her father, she secured a year’s lease on a two bedroom flat, south of the river, sub-letting the second room to her friend, Cynthia. 

 

Three weeks into the ‘living together’ with James, Deborah caught James having noisy sex with Cynthia. 

 

Incredibly, Deborah didn’t throw James out. They just… carried on living together. The… three of them…

 

“Are you blushing?” asked Miss Madison. 

 

“No. What?”

 

I cleared my memory of that first year at Uni and took a proper look at Miss Madison, my manager. She was probably in her mid-thirties, which put her more than ten years older than me. But what did I know about guessing the age of older women? If she looked after herself, which reasonably could be the case here, Miss Madison could even be in her early forties, but looking mid-thirties. It was impossible to tell. She had that air of superb grooming that came from money.  

 

“James will be a Junior Manager in a few weeks’ time. Reporting directly to me.” Miss Madison leaned back in her chair, but her posture remained straight as she did so. “Directly… to me,” she added with a smile. 

 

“He’s done well for himself.”

 

“Oh yes. And as I said, he speaks highly of you.” She tapped some keys on her keyboard and glanced at one of the iMac screens that I couldn’t see. “I run a tight team, and we’re all very close. We work hard and we party hard. And we don’t have any secrets from one another.” She glanced up at me. “Does that scare you?”

 

“No, of course not. Why should it scare…”

 

“Good.” She tapped another set of keys. “I’m going to ask you a very personal question, Simon. If you don’t like the sort of personal questions I ask, well, maybe Enterprise Resource Planning and Modular Design isn’t the place for you.”

 

“Um, it most certainly is, Miss Madison. Very much so. You can ask anything. Honestly, it’s not a problem.”

 

“Are you still a virgin, Simon?” she regarded me with a fixed gaze.

 

“What? I’m.. I mean…”

 

“Answer the question.”

 

“Why do you think…”

 

“James said so. He said you never slept with a girl at University. I’m asking whether you’ve slept with one since.”

 

I must have blushed, for Miss Madison laughed softly.

 

“Relax. You’d be surprised how many talented computer graduates have little to no experience with a girl. It’s really rather common. Not James, though, of course.”

 

I swallowed.

 

“No, not James,” I confirmed.

 

“I’m asking because I like to know my men – the men who work for me. It’s really rather charming if you’ve been saving yourself for the right girl. Is that what you’ve been doing, Simon? Saving yourself for the right girl?”

 

“It’s…”

 

“To be honest, you won’t have much time for a relationship, anyway, and you’ll need a clear head if you’re going to do well in Enterprise Resource Planning and Modular Design. There will be long nights, coding, but the rewards will more than compensate. I like the fact you’re single.” She glanced at the computer screen again. “And the fact that you won’t be wasting my time, chasing skirts on the second floor.”

 

“The second floor?”

 

“Where most of the skirts live.” She glanced up again. 

 

“What… what do you mean by… skirts?” She of course was wearing a skirt – a slightly over the knee pencil skirt with a hobbling effect to her walk. 

 

“It’s a phrase. For a certain kind of girl who works here. They don’t stay here long. We have…” she laughed softly, “quite the high turnover of pretty young things.”

 

“And they’re all on…”

 

“The second floor, yes. Mostly.”

 

A momentary silence hung in the air as Miss Madison continued to look at me. I fidgeted slightly on my chair, not knowing if I was supposed to ask a question now.

 

“Is that a Marks and Spencer suit, Simon?”

 

“Um, yes, it is.”

 

“Did your father buy it for you?”

 

“Um, yes, he did.”

 

“It’s cheap and nasty. Get rid of it.” Miss Madison took a white card from a rolodex and wrote something down on it, before sliding it across the frosted glass table towards me. I picked up the card and saw a long number written on it in fountain pen ink.

 

“I don’t know what…”

 

“Go to Rean London, 189 Wardour street and quote this account number. Have yourself measured for a suit and shirts. When you work in Enterprise Resource Planning and Modular Design, I have firm standards for my men.”

 

“That sounds expensive.”

 

“You won’t pay a penny when you quote that account number. And for God’s sake get some shoes, too.” She glanced down at my feet. “Just what are those?”

 

“Shoes,” I said, quietly.

 

“Not by my reckoning, they’re not. So, at this point I suppose I should enquire if you have any questions, Simon?”

 

It was always important to ask questions in interviews. Everyone knew that. I cleared my throat and put on my most interested expression. “I’m curious as to what I’ll be working on exactly, Miss Madison?”

 

“You’ll be working on Enterprise Resource Planning and Modular Design, of course.”

 

“And, um, that is…”

 

“Obvious enough by the descriptive name, Simon. Anything else you wish to know?”

 

I cleared my throat again. I heard the sensual sound of nylon seamed stockings sliding against one another as Miss Madison adjusted her seat in the chair. I tried not to imagine what she might look like in her firm corset, garter belt and stockings, devoid of the pencil skirt and soft blouse. 

 

A quarter of an hour later I was seated at my desk, personalising my computer set up to my preferences, and acquainting myself with the systems menu interface specific to Steel World Inc. 

 

“Rogers has landed, eh?” said James Marlow as he leaned over the walls of my cubicle and knocked twice. “Top hole, old boy,” he added in a fake posh accent, with a wink.

 

“You could say that.” I grinned and stood up to shake hands with my friend from Uni. “Thank you so much for this, James. It’s a great start.”

 

“Ah, it’s nothing for a mate.” He walked round the side of the cubicle screen and deposited a bottle of champagne and two glasses on my desk. “Glad to give you a leg up onto the ladder.” He sat down on the edge of my desk and worked the cork free with a pop.

 

“Are we allowed to drink in the office?” I must have looked surprised.

 

“First rule of Enterprise Resource Planning and Modular Design – keep the Madison happy. Second rule of Enterprise Resource Planning and Modular Design – you can do anything provided the Madison is happy.” He poured champagne into the two flutes and handed me one. 

 

“Yes, but, drinking?”

 

“Christ on a bike, Simon. Wait until you see what Friday lunch time is like. We don’t get back into the office until three. And the Madison always has her charge card behind the bar, provided we’ve worked hard during the week.”

 

“She’s um, rather…”

 

“Hot? Fuck, yeah. Fucking hot for an old girl.” He sniffed. “Fancy older women, do you, Simon?”

 

“You haven’t? I mean… have you?”

 

James laughed and slapped me on the back. “The Madison? Nah. We flirt a bit, but no.” He gave the possibility some thought. “I mean, she’s got a tight little body, still - she’s forty-three, you know?”

 

“No? No way! Not forty-three? She looks, well, thirty-three, and a fit thirty-three at that.”

 

“Tell me about it. Money keeps women looking younger than their years. And she’s a top earner here.” James rubbed his finger and thumb together as if separating bank notes. “You should see her apartment.”

 

“What? You’ve seen her apartment?” I said, surprised.

 

“Yeah. One Friday night. We did get a bit… flirty after Friday lunch just went on and on and we stumbled out of Notting Hill quite late and pretty damn pissed. I offered to get her home safely. Hey!” He saw the look on my face. “Gentleman’s honour! Got her home safely. Had a drink or two, saw her bedroom… man, she’s into some kinky shit, I think. But she was well gone. I just put her to bed and left. Didn’t even undress her. She never said anything about it on Monday.”

 

“What do you mean by ‘kinky shit’?”

 

“Oh-ho, now Simon’s suddenly interested!” James winked. “Forget it, boysie. Get yourself laid with a nice girl first before you venture into my dark world.” He raised his champagne flute and we drank together. 

 

“No, I mean, you can’t just not tell me. Come on, James.”

 

“All in good time, Rogers. All in good time. There’s more to Steel World than meets the eye. We’re fucking Lords of London, I tell you. The rules do not apply to us. You have no idea, my friend. And soon you’ll have a taste of the pie, if you want it. Catch you later, amigo. I’ve got meetings back to back until eight tonight.”

 

I pondered this for a while. James seemed… different. More bullish. He’d been here, what? Four months? He was acting like some International Financier, rather than an IT planner. Hmm.

 

Nice girl.

 

I picked up my iPhone and pulled up the address book. I recalled Miss Whitlock’s warm smile and the moment we had shared together in reception. Yes, I hadn’t been mistaken. It had been a moment. I selected her name and moved my finger to the text option. I should send her a short message, just checking in, comparing our first day. 

 

Innocent enough.

 

I felt a stirring in my trousers at the thought of her. She was really pretty, and had such a lovely smile. We had shared a moment. I was sure of it. 

 

I sucked in my breath and typed some words.

 

‘IT department here just checking in on Miss Whitlock, Super Star Corporate Director in the making’. I added a couple of smiley emojis and pressed send. 

 

And I then waited. She wouldn’t text back immediately, of course. That would be too forward. She was a nice girl. Perhaps she’d want to text me back quickly, but she’d have to wait a while. That’s how it worked and…

 

There was a text alert. I quickly grabbed my phone and checked. Oh my God, it was Miss Whitlock! Already!

 

What did that mean? 

 

I opened the text.

 

‘Super Star Corporate Director has had big time Computer Fail this morning! All fingers and thumbs and embarrassingly scatter brained with menus. Could have done with Super Star IT boy to hold hand! Whoops, did I say that? Oh no!’ Two embarrassed emojis followed.

 

Wow.

 

I leaned back in my chair and felt the erection in my trousers grow to full strength.