In which Sarah finesses the secret of her success
Sarah yawned and tried not to open her eyes. It was warm and snug in the bed with strong arms holding her tight. She could feel his body pressing against her back. She smiled. It had been a very good night, albeit with far too little sleep. Still, she thought, one has to make some sacrifices in life.
The previous evening, she had rushed from the council meeting, ignoring John’s text (save for a one word reply saying “Patience!”) and headed back to The Bugle’s offices. The meeting had been hilarious, so provincial and the bag of dead frogs and other assorted fauna had been the perfect antidote to having to listen to several hours of boring nimbyisms and heartfelt entreaties to save the planet. It had been a generally inconclusive meeting on the subject of the bypass route itself. However, Mr Green’s theatrics provided her with the perfect opportunity to widen the scope of her piece and show off her sophisticated insights. What with the excellent photos Dan, her photographer, had captured, it was clearly front page material and a chance for her first byline on this one.
However, as she tapped expertly away on her keyboard, Sarah kept finding herself thinking about the urbane Mr Tort, who had spoked so eloquently (but non-specifically) at the meeting. She broke off from the piece to Google ‘Tort, Precedent and Wisdom’ and gasped with surprise when she saw the size of their billings, the average profit per equity partner and the breadth of their practice areas. A prime London address was given and Sarah was soon Googling TPW’s own website. They listed droves of clients, many of whom were in the FTSE100 and in exciting sectors.
Sarah sat back in her chair and paused. Her 1st in English had been hard work. Well, the syllabus hadn’t been exactly challenging but some of her tutors had been a little ‘difficult’ shall we say? But her charms and skills had worked in the end and they had also opened the door to her job at the Bovey-over-Sands Bugle. The MD wasn’t exactly a charmer but he knew well enough how to respond to one. Men had needs and were susceptible to the right and discrete offers of assistance (as was the occasional woman, she had found and quite a mutually pleasing experience that had been unlike with some of the men).
However, neither her first in English nor her growing social skills were going to get her on the payroll at a major law firm. Well, certainly a lousy secretarial position that would lead nowhere would be easy, but that wasn’t a stairway to the stars. No, what was forming in Sarah’s mind was a way into one of these FTSE100 clients of TPW. And what better way was there than a personal introduction from TPW’s own Managing Partner?
Sarah picked up her phone and ignoring the latest text from John, phoned her boss. She remembered that he had said earlier that day that the mayor had organised a cocktail party at the local Hilton for that evening. She hadn’t paid much attention due to her date with John but the call confirmed that key local businessmen and visiting dignitaries would be attending. Attacking the keyboard once more, she soon had her piece finished. She texted John ‘Sorry, working very late x’ and fled home, showered and changed into one of her expensive ‘influential’ dresses.
Sarah, felt a more pronounced stirring behind her and smiled again. Things were picking up. Younger men might have a lot to offer, she thought, but they couldn’t take her where she wanted to go.
“And a very good morning to you Mr Tort”, Sarah announced, “are we going to have room service or will your chauffeur stop somewhere on the way up to London, later?”
To be continued…