Serial Saturday [Horror] – Nancy Please #5

I Hope You’ve been keeping up, because today we’ve reached part #5 of this horror tale.

Last time we started to learn something about Nancy’s life. Today, we continue on with that part of the story.

Read the previous posts HERE, but now, on to part #5…

“We’ve had this discussion before, Mark. I don’t think it would be appropriate.” I can’t imagine a world in which I say ‘yes’ to that question.

“It’s just dinner.” His eyes dropped back to my legs. Just dinner. Right.

“Here are the figures you wanted.” I slap the foolscap folder I’m holding onto his desk and stand up. “Remember the phone next time, please.”

“Dinner?” He just can’t drop it. His stupid fat face is turned up towards me, eyes glittering, almost ready to drop a tear.

I want to tell him to fuck off, but he gives me a wage packet every month, and I’m not sure that would go down too well. Instead, I give him my best ‘I’m flattered but it’s never going to happen’ – smile as I leave his office.

“Hmm,” I heard him say as I closed the door. I’m not going to look back though the window. 

I head straight back along the walkway to my office, but not before casting a glance down at the women below. Some of them appear to be working, others are talking, and others still have their faces turned up to me, following my path along the walkway. I can’t hear it, but I’ve no doubt that they’re whispering about me. Probably something spiteful. Bitchy. Why they can’t just be happy for me is beyond me. I’m the only female member of the management team, something I worked hard for. Until I came here, the only roles previously deemed suitable for women, were on the shop floor, generally unskilled manual labour, cleaners, and of course, kitchen staff. I started on the shop floor, so maybe they’re jealous, but I didn’t want to spend my life making oil filters. I put myself through night school and got my diploma in business studies. I worked hard for this. I put up with the inevitable discrimination and sexual harassment that followed when I moved up from the shop floor. I put up with the groping, crude jokes and lecherous eyes of that fat fuck Belshaw to get where I am today. There is nothing stopping any of those women from doing the same, so fuck ‘em. Perhaps it’s because they don’t have a single brain cell between them. Miserable bitches.

I slam my office door a bit harder than I would have liked, and the glass rattles in the frame. My office chair looks comfortable, and I flop down into it to worry about the repercussions of rejecting another one of Belshaw’s advances. And there always were repercussions; having to work late; coming in on the weekends; spending time on the shop floor; all things that he knows I don’t enjoy, but I think I would enjoy a dinner date with Belshaw even less, so I guess I’ll wait to find out my punishment.

Outside, I can hear the muted laughter and chat from the shop floor; maybe even the odd ‘Narn – See please’, but that’s okay. I’m in here now, and I’ve got the perfect solution for days like today stored in the bottom draw of my desk. I reach in and pull out the bottle of gin that’s been in there since last Christmas. I’ve never opened it, but I keep it in there because…well, because you never know. Now, more than ever, as I stare at the bottle on my desk, I want to open the lid and take a drink. I even spin the bottle round so that I can read the label. Getting caught drinking on the job could end my career before it’s really even started, but would a swallow really hurt? Just one mouthful?

“Nancy.” I nearly piss myself as the speaker crackles, and the bottle falls over. It’s a damn good job I hadn’t opened it, or it would have been all over the desk. “Nancy, please could you collect some post from Mr Belshaw’s office?” That prick. I’d only asked him not to do that ten minutes ago. I pick up the phone and listen for a moment. I can hear the dial tone; there’s nothing wrong with it. Maybe if I’d agreed to a dinner date, or maybe if I’d worn my skirt a bit higher? Or maybe he’s just a dick.

“Nancy, please come to Mr Belshaw’s office.”

I give the bottle one last longing look and step out of my office onto the walkway. I knew what would be waiting for me, and I’m not disappointed; this time the calls are not whispered, and the shop floor is positively bouncing with calls of ‘Narn-see please.’ I step up to and grab the safety rail with both hands. I want to scream at them. What I would really like to do, is hawk up the biggest lugi I can and spit on them, but I’m not sure I can bring myself to do that. What I do instead, is shout down at them. “I don’t even talk like that.”

The shop floor erupts with laughter. “Not when you’re here, love!” someone shouts up. I look for the guilty party, but all their round pig-like faces look the same to me, and I can’t pick out the loud-mouth.

“Give it a rest, why don’t you?” I’m getting close to screaming, but I don’t think that will help my situation. If they’re even able to hear me over the laughing, they give no sign, and another round of ‘Narn-see please’ springs up again. This is getting me nowhere, so I storm off to Belshaw’s office.

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