A Ribald Tale in Merry Olde England
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Return From The Dark SideChapter 5: Ye Olde England free porn video
Josie Maxwell stretched her long legs, giving in to a yawn. She was one of the last people in the Business Class to have her reading light on in the otherwise darkened cabin. The letters of the report in her lap began to blur before her eyes, but she was almost finished.
The Maxistores were experiencing a very tentative comeback. They would be able to post a black zero for the last quarter, mostly due to a windfall in pre-Christmas sales of iPods and related merchandise. Also, the five locations that had been chosen for immediate overhaul had contributed above average revenue already justifying the restructuring. The shop-in-shop model for the Audio Frontier merchandise was also attracting a new clientele.
Now another manufacturer, Rotor Systems, wanted a similar deal. They were even more high-end than Audio Frontier and known for their top notch design. Josie was on her way to England for a meeting with their representatives, and she would also visit their production sites near London.
Word had spread in the industry about the bold course she was steering. After just eight months, she could see a change in the attitudes of her managers. Ed Halberd had jumped at the opportunity to show himself equal to the tasks. His former Nº2 man, James Elrin, had been unleashed upon the unsuspecting suppliers. He had been able to restore their margins to a tolerable percentage. With a second line of high end products displayed prominently, they would develop even more pull in negotiations.
Finally, she was finished with the report. With a sigh of relief, she stored the papers away in her briefcase and closed it. She looked at her wristwatch and realised that she had only two hours left to E.T.A. In other words, not enough time for napping. She let her thoughts drift instead.
Cap. The memory of that man was still very much alive in her. She could still feel the tingle of her skin under his touch. Never before had she felt like in those few precious moments spent on a lumpy bed. She did not know what he looked like, she did not know his real name. All she knew was that she could not forget him.
The police had found no useable traces of him. Lt. Fogerty and Josie had lunched together a month before. The lieutenant had more or less admitted that they had put the case on the back burner unless and until new evidence surfaced.
Two women had come forward with complaints now that Max was dead. They had given testimony on how he had abused them. What they told the detectives had certainly changed the attitudes of the homicide detectives. The Atlanta PD looked upon Captain Blood almost with sympathy after learning about the true nature of Max Maxwell.
So far, so good she thought. How could she ever find Cap again? Then, inevitably, feelings of guilt surfaced. She had to stop this fixation. Doctor Bloom had explained it to her. She was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, a psychological condition brought about by living in close contact with her abductor. She had to shake those feelings she had when she thought about Cap. He was bad for her. He was a bad man, a murderer. Doctor Bloom had conceded that it had been rather nice of Cap not to kill her or her daughters, but that did not change the fact that she had to rid herself of the feelings she had. Feelings of desire. Feelings of tenderness. The urge to feel his hands on her skin again. With an effort, Josie interrupted that train of thought.
She must have dozed off in spite of everything, and she had difficulties clearing her head when she woke. The breakfast served by the cabin crew helped her a little bit, but after the landing, she felt sleepy as she walked along the terminal and towards the luggage claim.
A man in a black suit held up a sign with her name and she approached him. Her trolley suitcase was by his side already.
"Mrs. Maxwell? I'm Roland. Please follow me."
There was just a minimal delay at immigration to stamp a visa into her passport. Then they breezed through customs and were soon out of the terminal. A shiny, real-life Rolls Royce was waiting at the curb. Roland loaded her suitcase into the trunk, which he called 'the boot', whilst she sat in the luxurious rear seat.
The driver (for Roland was merely the reception committee) turned and explained the workings of the bar and the coffee dispenser. She poured herself another coffee, and then sat back during the hour-long ride through the city in the morning rush hour traffic.
She had half expected to be dropped off at some Victorian monstrosity of a hotel. Instead, the car stopped at what seemed to be a simple private residence. She was received by a young woman in a maid's costume. It reminded her of the fetish videos she had found in her late husband's private bedroom, except that this woman wore a skirt that covered her legs to just below the knees.
"Welcome to Swindon House, Madam," she said, curtseying and confusing Josie even further. "My name is Jane. Your room is ready for you, and I've let a bath. Mr. Tolley won't pick you up before two o'clock. Would you like breakfast, Madam, or would you rather sleep after your bath?"
The thought of a hot bath was overwhelmingly tempting. Breakfast was not in her current state.
"I think I'll have a bath and then try to sleep, thank you," she said nicely, and the woman curtseyed again.
"Let me help you, Madam."
"By the way, where am I?" Josie asked.
"As I said, Madam, you are at Swindon House. This is a guesthouse for corporate visitors. We offer a range of services which I will be glad to show you."
Josie was slightly overwhelmed. This surely was hospitality. She made a mental note to arrange for similar accommodations should Mr. Tolley ever come and visit Atlanta.
The hot bath felt heavenly and Jane had her pyjamas ready for her when she emerged from the bathroom. The bedroom was darkened with heavy curtains. Josie fell asleep within minutes of dismissing Jane.
At twelve-thirty, on the dot, Josie woke up to the sound of classical music. She recognised Mozart's Violin Concerto Nº2. Shortly after, Jane knocked and entered. She had selected a burgundy pantsuit from Josie's suitcase which was perfectly suited for the sunny weather outside. It had been freshly pressed.
"You would not be looking for new employment, Jane, would you?" Josie asked only half in jest.
"No, Mrs. Maxwell, I wouldn't. Roland and I own Swindon House, but I thank you for the implied compliment."
After a small but delicious lunch, Josie was picked up by the Rolls Royce again and driven to the west of the City, to Maidenhead. This was where the main offices and design facilities of Rotor Systems were located. Roger Tolley, the majority owner of Rotor Systems, welcomed her in person. He then led her on a tour through the design factory.
"You have to see that we take great pride in our industrial design which is second to no other audio equipment producer on earth. We like to think of our products as audio equipment but also as design statements, even pieces of art. They are meant to bring harmony to a living room, a study, or a corporate office."
Josie briefly thought that he had conveniently forgotten Bang&Olufsen and Braun as design pioneers, but she decided to keep this thought to herself.
He showed her their showroom with the current and past product lines, and Josie was duly impressed. The items displayed only a minimum of visible controls and transported a sleek elegance that appealed to her sense of aesthetics. She said that much and was rewarded with a proud smile. Mr. Tolley was very much in love with his company.
After the tour, they had tea in the cafeteria, mixing with the engineers and the other employees. Again, Josie was surprised. She had expected a private lunchroom for senior management. Instead, management sat side by side with engineers and janitors, and she felt a strong sense of solidarity in how the groups interacted. This would be something to think about for her own headquarters.
After tea, she was given a run down of the entire product line. She was so busy taking notes and asking questions that she was truly surprised when Mr. Tolley broke up the meeting with the announcement that it was time for dinner.
Dinner would be at Mr. Tolley's house, only a few hundred yards off site. It was a private dinner with his family and his VPs for design and marketing and their wives. There was no talk of business during dinner; it was merely a chance to get to know a potential business partner on a personal level. Josie enjoyed herself despite her fatigue.
Ever the observant host, Mr. Tolley noticed that she was tired. It was barely past ten o'clock when Josie was driven back to Swindon House, where she went to bed immediately for eight uninterrupted hours of sleep.
On the next morning, after a full breakfast, Josie was driven out to Maidenhead again. This time she met the design people. They already had ideas of how to display their sound systems in a shop-in-shop display. Like their audio systems, the design of the booth was simplistic in the best sense. They had even obtained photographs of three of the new showcase Maxistores. They had developed several ideas of how to integrate their displays with the general design of the Maxistores. Josie was a strong believer in appearance, and she felt flattered that Rotor's people had gone through the effort of matching their ideas with her store design. They swapped ideas and proposals for a while until it was time for lunch.
After lunch, she and Roger Tolley sat and talked business. The basic idea was to place the Rotor sales displays in prominent positions in five flagship stores first. They would test the customer response for a six-month period. Rotor would front the display set-up and send over some of their people to train the Maxistore sales staff. They would also help with material for local advertising and take out ads in life style magazines.
In turn, the Maxistores would advertise the Rotor openings and take care of local media coverage. There was also the question of providing service, something for which the repair staff of the Maxistores would have to be trained. Josie could offer the service of over thirty Maxistores, ready to handle the technical support for the southern East Coast. The Online Maxistore would also offer custom configurations of Rotor's audio systems.
It was almost 5 p.m. when they called it a wrap. From the notes taken, the lawyers would draft a contract, and both sides agreed to speed things up to be ready for the next Christmas season. Josie was contemplating how to spend the next two days until her scheduled return flight when Tolley surprised her once more.
"Would you care to attend a party in the countryside, Mrs. Maxwell? My wife and I are invited to a friend's house tomorrow. I told him that you were visiting and he said to bring you along. You'll find Lord Lambert a very nice man. His family owns the bank that provides our financing. He said he'd like to meet you in person. You'll love his wife. Everybody loves Rose! The place is upriver from here, a real 18th century country seat, in the possession of his family for over 250 years. Would you like to come?"
Josie smiled. She had been looking forward to a tour of London, but going to a real family seat in the countryside and meeting real nobility had its appeal. She had been an avid reader of tabloids earlier in her life, escaping from her dismal marriage into a dream world of royalty. Her next thought reflected this.
"But what should I wear?"
"Oh, nothing fancy, really. It's just an informal party. Tomorrow morning, Roland will take you on a tour of London. He's quite good at it. He and Jane are a formidable team. He will then bring you to Lord Lambert's estate. The place is called High Matcham, and you'll be staying the night. So bring your luggage."
Tolley wanted to invite her for dinner again, but Josie declined claiming fatigue. Instead of calling the Rolls and incurring an hour of waiting, Tolley had one of his engineers, Mr. Vince Brennan, drive her back into the City. Brennan claimed that he lived close to Swindon House anyway and that taking her gave him an excuse to quit early.
Josie felt some apprehension when she saw his car, an original Mini Cooper. Not the BMW-designed successor, but the real thing. Her misgivings were reinforced by Brennan's daring driving style. Sitting in the low Mini, she could not help but envision what would happen to them if one of the trucks they were passing were to overlook them. They made it to Swindon House in one piece, but Josie's thanks to Vince Brennan lacked conviction, even in her own ears.
After a light supper in a neighbourhood restaurant, Josie went to bed early. She actually slept like a baby for ten hours, her longest sleep in eight months. She felt very ready to do some serious sightseeing when Roland picked her up at nine o'clock.
They visited the Tower of London, the Tower Bridge, the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's Cathedral, Trafalgar Square, Hyde Park and Royal Albert Hall, all in the course of about six hours. She was dizzy and exhausted when the car finally pulled up at Swindon House.
While she had a shower and a nap, Jane packed her suitcase and laid out her outfit for the evening, a burgundy red dress with a matching bolero jacket that complimented her slender form and fair complexion.
"His Lordship will pick you up at four, Mrs. Maxwell," Jane informed her en passant.
"His Lordship?" Josie asked, fighting a silly giggle.
"Lord Lambert. He offered to give you transportation seeing that he has to drive home from his office anyway."
At four o'clock sharp, Jane called for Josie to come down. The suitcase was carried to the car by a tall blonde man whilst Jane bade her guest farewell.
Following an impulse, Josie gave the woman an affectionate hug and thanked her. She did not tip her, sensing it would be an affront to Jane. She was clearly her own mistress. Instead, she handed her a small box containing the latest iPod model.
"That's too much, Mrs. Maxwell," the young woman protested, but Josie was adamant.
"You made my stay here very enjoyable, Jane. Obviously, I don't pay retail prices, so please accept this as a token of my appreciation."
"In this case, I thank you very much. Here is my card. If you ever need accommodations in London I'll be happy to accommodate you."
Josie noticed a shadow behind her and turned to see the tall blonde man.
"Mrs. Maxwell, I presume? I'm Andrew Carter. I'm your driver."
"Yes, I'm Josie Maxwell. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Carter. But wasn't I supposed to drive with Lord Lambert?"
"One of my numerous aliases," he said with a good-natured grin. "Andrew Richard Anthony Carter, 10th Baron Lambert of Matcham; at your service, Madam!"
"That's a mouthful, for sure," Josie laughed. "So, how do I address you? Milord, or your grace?"
"Can we settle for Andrew?"
"Only if you call me Josie."
"All right. This difficult issue being settled, would you prefer to sit up front, or in the back?"
Josie looked at the sleek BMW 760i.
"Front," she said. "I tend to get sick in the back."
She was slightly surprised again when he opened the left side door for her, but then she remembered she was in England. She sat in the leather seat and buckled up.
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