Introvert Extrovert a Partnership
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Getting One Over On My Boss, Part 2 free porn video
continued from part 1
....I dressed. Ate breakfast, and made my way to my desk for 08:15.
‘Ah, Peter. A word please’
‘Shit’ Shit, that’s the word. She must have seen me. But she can’t have. Did Security blow the whistle on me? Shit, shit and triple shit with a super-annuating bonus.
I followed her into her glass walled office. The heat, the redness racing up my neck and face like a thermometer in the sun. Now beetroot and burning up…
‘My goodness Peter’ err, its Pete…‘You look warm. You okay?’
Like you care! ‘Er, yes, fine. I…I ..I ran to work this morning. Gym was closed.’ Liar! ‘Water leak or something’ bloody liar!
‘We’ve a new starter today and I’d like you to be her chaperone, make her feel at home, show her what’s what, who’s who’ great! Collect Louise from HR at nine-thirty. Her formal training plan kicks in tomorrow. Meantime look after her and I mean look after her. P r o p e r l y’ The last word being almost spelled out letter by letter as if I were a c***d. Oh yes, Peter Beech, good old Peter Beech.
Last thing I needed that day was a shadow but I managed to lose her at lunchtime, seating her with the rest of the regular bunch.
I walked the length of the car park and made a call to our I.T. department. I’d built up a rapport with one of the systems operators and was praying he was on shift.
‘I.T. Support, Danny speaking’
Good. ‘Danny, its Pete from Customer Team 2. I need a favour’
When he finished his shift Danny met me in a quiet corner of the pub. ‘ Why have you asked me here? What’s up?’
‘I couldn’t talk at work and I need to be sure we won’t get interrupted’ I replied.
A curious look appeared on Danny’s face ‘I’m engaged, you know…to a girl!’
My face beetroot again ‘Danny, sorry mate. Its nothing like that. I promise you. I just need to ask you about video conferencing, that’s all’
‘What, your MSN gone tits-up?’ he chirped.
‘No Danny, the one in the conference suite on the second floor. You know, at work!’
Danny seemed suddenly very interested in his shoes. When he eventually surfaced for air it was his turn for the beetroot face treatment. I’d hit a nerve!
‘I don’t know anything about it. Don’t know what you mean’ said Danny.
‘Not sure I believe you there mate. I think you need to start talking’
I bought another round and placed 2 fresh pints on the table as Danny explained how, one day a few weeks ago, one of the managers asked him to log her into a video conference.
‘Wait, you said her. Log her in. Who exactly are we talking about Danny?’
Shoes became fascinating again. ‘Can’t say. I’ll get the boot’ he mumbled.
It turns out the one and only Christine Harper asked Danny to show her how to log in to a video call. Danny had explained he’d need written permission from a Director but he was told our head honcho was on holiday; he’d cleared it before he left anyway and Ms Harper would ‘take care’ of the paperwork. Danny had agreed and was rewarded for his assistance. Two days later two Eurostar tickets arrived at his parents’ house for Danny to take his young fiancé to Paris. Hotel, Euro Disney passes and €200 in cash were also included. There was no note, no message but he knew he’d been bribed and must either blow the episode wide open or take the tickets and stay silent.
‘I haven’t even spoken to her since that day. She just blanks me out’ Welcome to the club son! ‘You gonna grass me up?’
‘No Danny, I just….’
‘You can have the tickets back, we were planning to go in September but..’
‘Look Danny, I’m not interested in the tickets. But I need your help to nail this bitch. I need to know what she’s up to. Are video conference calls recorded? We have to find out who she’s talking to’
‘Funny that Pete, she asked me exactly the same question about recording. No, they’re not. Facility has never been activated all the time we’ve had the camera’
But the record part of the program was easy enough for Danny to switch on and he even set up a clever little routine to automatically divert the recorded files somewhere conveniently out of sight in the depths of the company’s electronic archives.
I kept the running to work fiasco up for a couple of days to throw her off the scent but didn’t arrive quite so early and left her to her own devices for a while. I soon slotted back into my twice weekly gym visits. Everything back to normal!
‘Good morning, Customer Service, how can I help?’
‘Pete?’ said the whispered voice, ‘that you?’
‘Peter Beech speaking’ Peter! ‘How can I help?
‘Its Danny. Same place. Nine tonight. Something you should see.’
Danny was waiting, a small Notebook computer on the table. Nervously twiddling a memory stick through his fingers.
Pints drawn, the stick was plugged into the side of the machine and a small black screen appeared in the centre of the monitor.
‘Not sure what the papers are Pete but she seems to have this all very nicely sorted. And it gets really quite interesting toward the end.’ Danny was as glued to the image on the screen as I was. Christine Harper standing about a metre from the camera and holding up a series of A4 papers. ‘Dunno what she’s up to Pete but you have to see this bit.’
Danny fast forwarded a few frames. The papers gone, just Harper’s plum coloured Jersey top in view.
‘Whoooooooaa’ I spluttered.
Making sure I hadn’t attracted any attention from fellow drinkers, I asked Danny to rewind. What we’d seen in the first 90 seconds on the recording confused and intrigued me, but the signing off at the end definitely impressed me.
‘Great tits, eh Pete’
The image, freeze framed on both the screen and my mind, was of Christine Harper, having lifted up her top and scooped both breasts out of her bra before wiggling and giggling them like some Burlesque performer. The recoded went dead. Blank. Connection dropped.
‘Lovely tits Danny, Lovely tits indeedy. Now, lets get cracking’
The A4 papers were screen prints of parts of recipe details for some new products we were about to launch. I wondered why, apart from the salacious flash at the finale, she would use the video conference and not send them by email or simply copy the sheets and take them home.
Danny to the rescue again. He reasoned it would be more of a risk to email anything so sensitive as all mails are scanned for content and key words which would flag such misdemeanours up to the I.T. team. Copying and walking out with papers risked random bag searches which were extremely thorough. With supposedly no recording of video conference calls, Harper was home and dry and she was even getting a little cocky now, flashing her tits for the lucky recipient too!
Harper was being clever, or so she thought and of course she knew our new product specifications were not just 1 but at least three separate documents, the whole recipe didn’t make sense until all parts were read together,
I set Danny the task of tracing the lucky recipient while I set about planning to expose her.
She passed my desk on her way to the coffee station between our section and the next department. Seizing the opportunity I followed, unseen by my prey, and was level with her as she poured a steaming hot cup of Guatemalan fair trade coffee.
‘Hi Chrissie’ Much wobbling of hot coffee pot.
‘Christi…
‘Yeah, like I said, Chrissie. Nice boobs by the way!’
‘What! My office. N O W !’
I dutifully followed her through the office, adding under my breath, ‘It will be my pleasure Herr Commandant’
I tried my best to look sheepish, like a scalded schoolboy being carted off to the headmaster’s office for punishment. Heads popped up at every desk as we passed at speed, power walking our way through the empire she’d spent so long building up but was at risk of losing in just a few mad moments.
‘Peter, you’d better take a seat and start thinking hard about what you just said while I call H.R.’ She spat the words at me through tightly clenched teeth.
I sat, needing to make it look to everyone else like I was being reprimanded. I could feel the stares of my colleagues burning through her glass-walled office, aware that they’d be backing me one hundred percent if they knew what Danny and I knew. I could almost feel their faces pressed up against the glass.
‘No Chrissie’ I started quietly.
‘What do you mean, No?’
‘No, not Peter, I’m Pete and no, you’re not going to call H.R. or anyone else for that matter. I think it is time we had a little chat’
‘Oh yes’ she chirped, still gritting her teeth, a finger poised over the phone pad, ready to tap out the HR Manager’s number. ‘Well you won’t mind if I record our ‘little chat’ then will you?’
‘No at all Chrissie. Not at all’
‘My name is Christine. Now start explaining yourself. Make it quick or I’m calling HR’
‘Chrissie, you won’t be calling HR at all. If anyone does that, it will be me’
‘What? You’re full of yourself today Peter, what on earth has got into you?’ She clicked the record button on her digital recorded and peered at me over the top of her spectacles. ‘Do hurry Peter; I have a ten-thirty with the Head of UK Sales. And will you stop calling me Chrissie, no one calls me that’
‘No one, except me. Oh and Tom, of course.’
Her chin hit her chest. She tapped the recorded to the off position. ‘How….who have you, …’
Christine Harper, for once lost for words.
‘This look familiar to you?’ I passed over a copy of an email Danny had intercepted. It read simply, good work Chrissie. Later. xx . The sender’s email address read [email protected]
Silence.
‘Chrissie. Let’s cut right to the point here. You’ve been rather naughty in the video conference suite, haven’t you?’
‘That little shit Danny…..’ she reached for her phone once more and started dialling a number.
‘Forget about Danny, Chris. He’s in the clear and anyway, he’ll be in Paris in about half an hour. Oh, and he sends his thanks to you and Tom by the way’
Christine Harper, Herr Commandant, turning beetroot, beads of sweat rippling across her brow. Her jaw dropped, her eyes starting to water, as I explained what we’d seen, that we knew everything about her little clandestine operation and we had enough evidence not only get her sacked but send her down for a few years at Her Majesty’s pleasure. Oh, and Tom, well, he was in the deep brown stuff too.
I let her think that but at this point we didn’t know who Tom really was. I outlined how things would play out from this point on. Until I had made my final decision, she would continue the secretive early morning video shows, flashing her boobs as always, keeping things ‘normal’. I would provide the recipe printouts, only they would not be the real deal. We had to keep ‘Tom’ interested and he would get suspicious if the transmissions came to an abrupt end. Danny would get back on the case when he returned from Paris on Tuesday
I’m a non-playing member these days but still a regular down at our local rugby club and when I made a few calls to a few of the lads I got their attention straight away.
I stayed late on the Thursday and made a point of making eye contact with Christine as she closed her office door at just a shade past 6pm. Not a word was spoken but there was slightest nod of the head, subtle, unseen by the other stragglers.
I took a leisurely walk into to town and headed for the Costa coffee house on the high street. I parked myself in the sumptuous leather of my favourite armchair, checked the sports pages of the evening paper and munched my way slowly through a chicken and bacon panini.
It started to rain lightly as I walked back up the high street, toward the office. I passed one of the regular beer fund punters from Accounts on his way out of the pub. Rob barely lifted his head. Too many beers maybe.
I nodded to Geoff, the other Accounts department member of the Christine Harper appreciation society, and ordered two pints. ‘Where’s Randy Rob off to in a skulk?’ I asked as we supped our pints of Bombardier ale.
‘Bottled it Pete.’ Said Geoff. ‘Blabbed on about his missus finding out, and work and all that. Just bottled it, upped and left.’
Time to go. Crossing the car park we sprinted a few hundred yards up the road to the Rugby club, trying to avoid the puddles. We moved to the rear of the clubhouse and slipped in through the home side’s changing room door. Eight of the town’s finest amateur sportsmen were putting themselves through a light training routine over on the far side of the pitch. The floodlights caught the rain, making it appear heavier than it was but at least, being April, it was warm rain!
…tbc ……
....I dressed. Ate breakfast, and made my way to my desk for 08:15.
‘Ah, Peter. A word please’
‘Shit’ Shit, that’s the word. She must have seen me. But she can’t have. Did Security blow the whistle on me? Shit, shit and triple shit with a super-annuating bonus.
I followed her into her glass walled office. The heat, the redness racing up my neck and face like a thermometer in the sun. Now beetroot and burning up…
‘My goodness Peter’ err, its Pete…‘You look warm. You okay?’
Like you care! ‘Er, yes, fine. I…I ..I ran to work this morning. Gym was closed.’ Liar! ‘Water leak or something’ bloody liar!
‘We’ve a new starter today and I’d like you to be her chaperone, make her feel at home, show her what’s what, who’s who’ great! Collect Louise from HR at nine-thirty. Her formal training plan kicks in tomorrow. Meantime look after her and I mean look after her. P r o p e r l y’ The last word being almost spelled out letter by letter as if I were a c***d. Oh yes, Peter Beech, good old Peter Beech.
Last thing I needed that day was a shadow but I managed to lose her at lunchtime, seating her with the rest of the regular bunch.
I walked the length of the car park and made a call to our I.T. department. I’d built up a rapport with one of the systems operators and was praying he was on shift.
‘I.T. Support, Danny speaking’
Good. ‘Danny, its Pete from Customer Team 2. I need a favour’
When he finished his shift Danny met me in a quiet corner of the pub. ‘ Why have you asked me here? What’s up?’
‘I couldn’t talk at work and I need to be sure we won’t get interrupted’ I replied.
A curious look appeared on Danny’s face ‘I’m engaged, you know…to a girl!’
My face beetroot again ‘Danny, sorry mate. Its nothing like that. I promise you. I just need to ask you about video conferencing, that’s all’
‘What, your MSN gone tits-up?’ he chirped.
‘No Danny, the one in the conference suite on the second floor. You know, at work!’
Danny seemed suddenly very interested in his shoes. When he eventually surfaced for air it was his turn for the beetroot face treatment. I’d hit a nerve!
‘I don’t know anything about it. Don’t know what you mean’ said Danny.
‘Not sure I believe you there mate. I think you need to start talking’
I bought another round and placed 2 fresh pints on the table as Danny explained how, one day a few weeks ago, one of the managers asked him to log her into a video conference.
‘Wait, you said her. Log her in. Who exactly are we talking about Danny?’
Shoes became fascinating again. ‘Can’t say. I’ll get the boot’ he mumbled.
It turns out the one and only Christine Harper asked Danny to show her how to log in to a video call. Danny had explained he’d need written permission from a Director but he was told our head honcho was on holiday; he’d cleared it before he left anyway and Ms Harper would ‘take care’ of the paperwork. Danny had agreed and was rewarded for his assistance. Two days later two Eurostar tickets arrived at his parents’ house for Danny to take his young fiancé to Paris. Hotel, Euro Disney passes and €200 in cash were also included. There was no note, no message but he knew he’d been bribed and must either blow the episode wide open or take the tickets and stay silent.
‘I haven’t even spoken to her since that day. She just blanks me out’ Welcome to the club son! ‘You gonna grass me up?’
‘No Danny, I just….’
‘You can have the tickets back, we were planning to go in September but..’
‘Look Danny, I’m not interested in the tickets. But I need your help to nail this bitch. I need to know what she’s up to. Are video conference calls recorded? We have to find out who she’s talking to’
‘Funny that Pete, she asked me exactly the same question about recording. No, they’re not. Facility has never been activated all the time we’ve had the camera’
But the record part of the program was easy enough for Danny to switch on and he even set up a clever little routine to automatically divert the recorded files somewhere conveniently out of sight in the depths of the company’s electronic archives.
I kept the running to work fiasco up for a couple of days to throw her off the scent but didn’t arrive quite so early and left her to her own devices for a while. I soon slotted back into my twice weekly gym visits. Everything back to normal!
‘Good morning, Customer Service, how can I help?’
‘Pete?’ said the whispered voice, ‘that you?’
‘Peter Beech speaking’ Peter! ‘How can I help?
‘Its Danny. Same place. Nine tonight. Something you should see.’
Danny was waiting, a small Notebook computer on the table. Nervously twiddling a memory stick through his fingers.
Pints drawn, the stick was plugged into the side of the machine and a small black screen appeared in the centre of the monitor.
‘Not sure what the papers are Pete but she seems to have this all very nicely sorted. And it gets really quite interesting toward the end.’ Danny was as glued to the image on the screen as I was. Christine Harper standing about a metre from the camera and holding up a series of A4 papers. ‘Dunno what she’s up to Pete but you have to see this bit.’
Danny fast forwarded a few frames. The papers gone, just Harper’s plum coloured Jersey top in view.
‘Whoooooooaa’ I spluttered.
Making sure I hadn’t attracted any attention from fellow drinkers, I asked Danny to rewind. What we’d seen in the first 90 seconds on the recording confused and intrigued me, but the signing off at the end definitely impressed me.
‘Great tits, eh Pete’
The image, freeze framed on both the screen and my mind, was of Christine Harper, having lifted up her top and scooped both breasts out of her bra before wiggling and giggling them like some Burlesque performer. The recoded went dead. Blank. Connection dropped.
‘Lovely tits Danny, Lovely tits indeedy. Now, lets get cracking’
The A4 papers were screen prints of parts of recipe details for some new products we were about to launch. I wondered why, apart from the salacious flash at the finale, she would use the video conference and not send them by email or simply copy the sheets and take them home.
Danny to the rescue again. He reasoned it would be more of a risk to email anything so sensitive as all mails are scanned for content and key words which would flag such misdemeanours up to the I.T. team. Copying and walking out with papers risked random bag searches which were extremely thorough. With supposedly no recording of video conference calls, Harper was home and dry and she was even getting a little cocky now, flashing her tits for the lucky recipient too!
Harper was being clever, or so she thought and of course she knew our new product specifications were not just 1 but at least three separate documents, the whole recipe didn’t make sense until all parts were read together,
I set Danny the task of tracing the lucky recipient while I set about planning to expose her.
She passed my desk on her way to the coffee station between our section and the next department. Seizing the opportunity I followed, unseen by my prey, and was level with her as she poured a steaming hot cup of Guatemalan fair trade coffee.
‘Hi Chrissie’ Much wobbling of hot coffee pot.
‘Christi…
‘Yeah, like I said, Chrissie. Nice boobs by the way!’
‘What! My office. N O W !’
I dutifully followed her through the office, adding under my breath, ‘It will be my pleasure Herr Commandant’
I tried my best to look sheepish, like a scalded schoolboy being carted off to the headmaster’s office for punishment. Heads popped up at every desk as we passed at speed, power walking our way through the empire she’d spent so long building up but was at risk of losing in just a few mad moments.
‘Peter, you’d better take a seat and start thinking hard about what you just said while I call H.R.’ She spat the words at me through tightly clenched teeth.
I sat, needing to make it look to everyone else like I was being reprimanded. I could feel the stares of my colleagues burning through her glass-walled office, aware that they’d be backing me one hundred percent if they knew what Danny and I knew. I could almost feel their faces pressed up against the glass.
‘No Chrissie’ I started quietly.
‘What do you mean, No?’
‘No, not Peter, I’m Pete and no, you’re not going to call H.R. or anyone else for that matter. I think it is time we had a little chat’
‘Oh yes’ she chirped, still gritting her teeth, a finger poised over the phone pad, ready to tap out the HR Manager’s number. ‘Well you won’t mind if I record our ‘little chat’ then will you?’
‘No at all Chrissie. Not at all’
‘My name is Christine. Now start explaining yourself. Make it quick or I’m calling HR’
‘Chrissie, you won’t be calling HR at all. If anyone does that, it will be me’
‘What? You’re full of yourself today Peter, what on earth has got into you?’ She clicked the record button on her digital recorded and peered at me over the top of her spectacles. ‘Do hurry Peter; I have a ten-thirty with the Head of UK Sales. And will you stop calling me Chrissie, no one calls me that’
‘No one, except me. Oh and Tom, of course.’
Her chin hit her chest. She tapped the recorded to the off position. ‘How….who have you, …’
Christine Harper, for once lost for words.
‘This look familiar to you?’ I passed over a copy of an email Danny had intercepted. It read simply, good work Chrissie. Later. xx . The sender’s email address read [email protected]
Silence.
‘Chrissie. Let’s cut right to the point here. You’ve been rather naughty in the video conference suite, haven’t you?’
‘That little shit Danny…..’ she reached for her phone once more and started dialling a number.
‘Forget about Danny, Chris. He’s in the clear and anyway, he’ll be in Paris in about half an hour. Oh, and he sends his thanks to you and Tom by the way’
Christine Harper, Herr Commandant, turning beetroot, beads of sweat rippling across her brow. Her jaw dropped, her eyes starting to water, as I explained what we’d seen, that we knew everything about her little clandestine operation and we had enough evidence not only get her sacked but send her down for a few years at Her Majesty’s pleasure. Oh, and Tom, well, he was in the deep brown stuff too.
I let her think that but at this point we didn’t know who Tom really was. I outlined how things would play out from this point on. Until I had made my final decision, she would continue the secretive early morning video shows, flashing her boobs as always, keeping things ‘normal’. I would provide the recipe printouts, only they would not be the real deal. We had to keep ‘Tom’ interested and he would get suspicious if the transmissions came to an abrupt end. Danny would get back on the case when he returned from Paris on Tuesday
I’m a non-playing member these days but still a regular down at our local rugby club and when I made a few calls to a few of the lads I got their attention straight away.
I stayed late on the Thursday and made a point of making eye contact with Christine as she closed her office door at just a shade past 6pm. Not a word was spoken but there was slightest nod of the head, subtle, unseen by the other stragglers.
I took a leisurely walk into to town and headed for the Costa coffee house on the high street. I parked myself in the sumptuous leather of my favourite armchair, checked the sports pages of the evening paper and munched my way slowly through a chicken and bacon panini.
It started to rain lightly as I walked back up the high street, toward the office. I passed one of the regular beer fund punters from Accounts on his way out of the pub. Rob barely lifted his head. Too many beers maybe.
I nodded to Geoff, the other Accounts department member of the Christine Harper appreciation society, and ordered two pints. ‘Where’s Randy Rob off to in a skulk?’ I asked as we supped our pints of Bombardier ale.
‘Bottled it Pete.’ Said Geoff. ‘Blabbed on about his missus finding out, and work and all that. Just bottled it, upped and left.’
Time to go. Crossing the car park we sprinted a few hundred yards up the road to the Rugby club, trying to avoid the puddles. We moved to the rear of the clubhouse and slipped in through the home side’s changing room door. Eight of the town’s finest amateur sportsmen were putting themselves through a light training routine over on the far side of the pitch. The floodlights caught the rain, making it appear heavier than it was but at least, being April, it was warm rain!
…tbc ……
Safiya
- 03.03.2021
- 9
- 0
