Read Online Amanda's Young Men by Madeline Moore - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Madeline Moore
Ads: Link
come in late, take long lunches and leave early?’
He sat up sharply and wagged his finger at her. ‘I’ll have you know –’
‘What? Tell me what the process is – the ordering.’
‘Well, Ms Sharpe tells me what shoes to buy and in what quantity. I pass her instructions on to my assistant – Pat. She makes up the order forms and brings them to me for signature.’
‘So all you do is pass instructions on and sign order forms? And without looking at what you sign, I hear.’
‘Now see here!’
‘No, Mr Dumphries, I’ve wasted quite enough time on you. You’re fifty-eight, almost fifty-nine, right? You can retire at sixty. I’ve checked with Human Resources. The cheapest way to get rid of you is to continue to pay you for the next fourteen months, but please don’t bother to come in. You won’t be welcomed.’
He stood up, spluttering. ‘I’ll be talking to Ms Sharpe about this!’
‘And so will I. You have twenty-five minutes to clear your desk, or Security will escort you from the premises. Goodbye, Mr Dumphries!’
7
SPIKES WAS A much larger shop than any of Forsythe Footwear’s. It had about sixty feet of frontage and rose for three tall floors. Its façade was pale-pink reflective glass, trimmed with heavy black chains. The motif was continued inside, with pink mirrors, pink faux-suede seating and displays that were made from black chains that had had their links welded together to make sinuous shapes. Handbags hung from thin black chains, twirling decoratively at eye-level.
Amanda tottered in like a geisha in a black slub-silk jersey skirt that hobbled her ankles and clung to her thighs, a ruffled white chiffon blouse and a short boxy jacket that was fastened by three frogs, leaving a two-inch gap that offered a tantalising hint of her thinly veiled cleavage.
The staff wore uniforms, black skirts with pink blouses or black pants with pink shirts. Happily for Amanda’s purposes, they also wore name tags – pink writing on black. When the only male server on that floor asked if he could help Amanda, and she’d checked his tag, she asked him where the higher-heeled shoes were displayed.
He looked down at Amanda’s restricted legs, then at the staircase that rose from the middle of the floor, and grinned. ‘Upstairs, madam. Shall I have someone bring a selection down for you?’
‘No thanks.’ Amanda stooped and teased the Velcro fastening on her skirt apart high enough to display four inches of her naked thigh above the top of her stocking. The salesman was still gawking when Amanda was halfway up the flight.
The stairway had been designed for exhibitionists and voyeurs. It was open on both sides and had treads but no risers. It was impossible for anyone in a skirt to climb them without offering an ‘upskirt’ show to those below. Amanda supposed that the assumption was that women who wore heels higher than the relatively conservative three- and four-inch ones displayed on the lower level had to have exhibitionistic streaks. Clever.
The downside of having a husband in the shoe business, she now realised, was never visiting shoe stores. Amanda’s life with Roger had been incredibly isolated and she’d been oblivious to it. It had happened gently, over time, like a light snowfall, one flake following another. Without noticing, she’d been buried. And Amanda had a pretty good idea why. Roger had made damn sure she wasn’t tempted, as he’d been, fearing that she’d succumb, as he damn well had!
Amanda paused before she reached the top, turned and gave the young man who’d directed her a big slow smile. He was tempting, no doubt about it, and just the right age – which was to say, young. Amanda flounced up the remaining three steps. But he wasn’t the one she was after, not today.
There was only one person serving up there, so he had to be Paul Carter. Once more, Amanda pretended to browse as she watched a shoe salesman, who she planned to seduce, at his work. She was
He sat up sharply and wagged his finger at her. ‘I’ll have you know –’
‘What? Tell me what the process is – the ordering.’
‘Well, Ms Sharpe tells me what shoes to buy and in what quantity. I pass her instructions on to my assistant – Pat. She makes up the order forms and brings them to me for signature.’
‘So all you do is pass instructions on and sign order forms? And without looking at what you sign, I hear.’
‘Now see here!’
‘No, Mr Dumphries, I’ve wasted quite enough time on you. You’re fifty-eight, almost fifty-nine, right? You can retire at sixty. I’ve checked with Human Resources. The cheapest way to get rid of you is to continue to pay you for the next fourteen months, but please don’t bother to come in. You won’t be welcomed.’
He stood up, spluttering. ‘I’ll be talking to Ms Sharpe about this!’
‘And so will I. You have twenty-five minutes to clear your desk, or Security will escort you from the premises. Goodbye, Mr Dumphries!’
7
SPIKES WAS A much larger shop than any of Forsythe Footwear’s. It had about sixty feet of frontage and rose for three tall floors. Its façade was pale-pink reflective glass, trimmed with heavy black chains. The motif was continued inside, with pink mirrors, pink faux-suede seating and displays that were made from black chains that had had their links welded together to make sinuous shapes. Handbags hung from thin black chains, twirling decoratively at eye-level.
Amanda tottered in like a geisha in a black slub-silk jersey skirt that hobbled her ankles and clung to her thighs, a ruffled white chiffon blouse and a short boxy jacket that was fastened by three frogs, leaving a two-inch gap that offered a tantalising hint of her thinly veiled cleavage.
The staff wore uniforms, black skirts with pink blouses or black pants with pink shirts. Happily for Amanda’s purposes, they also wore name tags – pink writing on black. When the only male server on that floor asked if he could help Amanda, and she’d checked his tag, she asked him where the higher-heeled shoes were displayed.
He looked down at Amanda’s restricted legs, then at the staircase that rose from the middle of the floor, and grinned. ‘Upstairs, madam. Shall I have someone bring a selection down for you?’
‘No thanks.’ Amanda stooped and teased the Velcro fastening on her skirt apart high enough to display four inches of her naked thigh above the top of her stocking. The salesman was still gawking when Amanda was halfway up the flight.
The stairway had been designed for exhibitionists and voyeurs. It was open on both sides and had treads but no risers. It was impossible for anyone in a skirt to climb them without offering an ‘upskirt’ show to those below. Amanda supposed that the assumption was that women who wore heels higher than the relatively conservative three- and four-inch ones displayed on the lower level had to have exhibitionistic streaks. Clever.
The downside of having a husband in the shoe business, she now realised, was never visiting shoe stores. Amanda’s life with Roger had been incredibly isolated and she’d been oblivious to it. It had happened gently, over time, like a light snowfall, one flake following another. Without noticing, she’d been buried. And Amanda had a pretty good idea why. Roger had made damn sure she wasn’t tempted, as he’d been, fearing that she’d succumb, as he damn well had!
Amanda paused before she reached the top, turned and gave the young man who’d directed her a big slow smile. He was tempting, no doubt about it, and just the right age – which was to say, young. Amanda flounced up the remaining three steps. But he wasn’t the one she was after, not today.
There was only one person serving up there, so he had to be Paul Carter. Once more, Amanda pretended to browse as she watched a shoe salesman, who she planned to seduce, at his work. She was
Similar Books
