I <i>didn't</i> get sacked...
... cause I was stupid, maybe.

Fat, waddling, toffee-nosed 50+ boss of a small company had taken me on not two months earlier as his QA manager, and I had met his stunning, leggy, brunette, husky-voiced, vampish, European young trophy wife, who was a buyer for the business.

The Christmas party was a strange affair: we working people getting merrily drunk, while the top boss and his old-etonian-school-chum "silent partner" and attendant more sensibly-matched wife looked down their noses at us.

Except trophy wife. She was getting plastered. The first thing she said when I arrived - contacts instead of my usual glasses, hair let loose instead of tied back - was "My, you are very attractive!"
Thank you. Nice to hear. Trophy wife drank much that night. By the end of the dinner, she'd smashed a glass, ordered more wine and demanded we go to a night club. Boss looks unhappy, but pampered his wife. Off we went.

In the darker, louder surrounds, the now wobbly, but still gorgeous trophy wife sidled up to me and announced "We have a very open marriage, you know. The most important thing in life is to have fun, yes?"
Her husband was standing right there next to her as she leant lushiously on my shoulder.

I was still in my probationary period, and contractually could be fired without reason. There was no law to back me up, and I knew it. "Tell me this again when you're sober," I said.

She never did. I kept my crappy job, but got no hot swinging action with gorgeous brunette sophisticate.

Damn.
( no cake for the impuritay Patrick Stewart hasn't aged since, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 9:50, Reply)