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Lose a Man, Gain a Promotion

It's funny how one little circumstance can stop a scenario dead.

By Karen MadejPublished 3 years ago 4 min read
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Lose a Man, Gain a Promotion
Photo by John Fowler on Unsplash

Nine years ago

I walked my three-year-old son, Jason, down the street away from my marital home. After securing him in the baby seat in the back, I climbed into the front passenger side of another man’s company car.

The primary earner, my spouse, splashed out on Hi-Fi equipment and bet on the horses. He gave me a weekly allowance for food and personal items. Rather than question this arrangement, I threw myself into my new job as a clerical officer at CommCorp.

Jason was two when I fell for Eric, my boss’s boss. Tall with Nordic ancestry, he courted me, took an interest in me, and took me to lunch in Buckinghamshire countryside pubs.

The secrecy thrilled my body, but we didn’t go any further than kissing. Oh, his lips! I curbed my tobacco addiction to a quick after-work roll-up in the car.

An interview for promotion beckoned, so this ladies man pounced on the opportunity to take me away to Leicester for an overnight stay. With my car in the High Wycombe multi-storey car park next to the telephone exchange where we worked, I walked through the stillness of a chill early morning mist to his idling BMW.

In the hotel room, we kissed, we undid buttons, and I stalled. Fingers froze mid-stroke on Eric’s tempting bare chest. I tilted my head backward to study his face before saying, “I should prepare for this afternoon.”

“Of course,” he said as he released his clasp from my waist. A shadow flitted across his features.

Despite stepping away from each other, we continued to be aware of the other’s movements. After Eric got everything tucked back in, he opened his holdall while I pulled up my stockings.

“How about this?” he said, producing a bottle of Dom Perignon Brut like a magician’s rabbit. A surprised smile flashed across my face before a frown replaced it.

“Not yet, let’s not count chickens before they hatch.”

“Later,” he said.

Every step along the corridor I bombarded the universe with positive thoughts, hoping the one flaw in our scheme for the evening’s activities would resolve itself before we got physical.

After our appointments, we reconvened in our room. A full-on smooching and petting haze descended on us. Somehow, I broke away from Eric and composed myself.

Ways to kill a moment

“Stop, stop.” Flippin’ heck, I needed a drag of a roll-up!

“What’s wrong?”

“It might be nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“How do you feel about a small amount of blood?” A blank expression, then realisation dawned. “I could drink a skinful of champagne and it’ll stop.” At least it had done on past occasions.

“It’s a sign.”

“Which sort?”

“My wife doesn’t deserve this, not when she’s at a low point.”

After finding my new lacy briefs, I pulled them on and gathered some clothes before going into the ensuite.

“Let’s go to dinner,” he said when I emerged. I nodded, and we went downstairs.

The chicken Kiev appealed to me, but not to him. The parsley didn’t work. What did it matter? Did I imagine there would be any kissing? My tongue tangled in foolish words, which fell to the table after bouncing off the polite air surrounding my squeamish dinner partner.

That night, we lay as silent strangers, naked but for knickers and boxers under the covers. My body tingled, craving his touch, and my brain focused on tamping down my desire for nicotine.

On the return journey, he let me drive his car. “Sheep!” I said.

He grabbed the handbrake to stop us from crashing into the boot of the car in front.

The stark white walls and glaring orange plastic chairs in the main hall of a service station where we stopped for coffee matched the mood of the situation. Neither a witty gem nor an anecdote came to us as we stared into our cups. I lit a hand-rolled ciggie. Because his mother died of cancer, he abhorred smoking.

A week later, I received feedback from my interview. I came across as dictatorial. To give assertive answers, I went too far!

The next month, however, I won a position as a Job Controller in London.

On my last day, Eric offered to be my mentor. If I needed to talk through new or difficult situations, I could call him, any time.

The new job

One such moment happened when I opened my mouth before thinking. After a chat with my new manager on my first day, I stood at my desk opposite an older woman and asked her, “what’s your role here?”

To which she replied, “perhaps you should tell me, as nobody mentioned that you would be my supervisor.”

Panic streamed through my gut to my heart and up to my face. I excused myself and went outside to smoke and call Eric.

Life went on.

He chose his wife. I remained with my husband.

This post is the first chapter of the sequel to Two Little Girls. As yet unwritten.

Two Little Girls and Other Life Moments Kindle Edition by Karen Madej.

© 2018 Karen Madej. All rights reserved.

This story was previously published on another platform on January 16, 2018.

Short Story
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About the Creator

Karen Madej

Vocal is where I share my life and fictional stories. [email protected]

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