Forced Into Stockings: Body Snatch – now published!
What if an escaping criminal stole your body and transferred your mind into the body of a young woman? What if, as that young woman, you were blackmailed by the man who stole your body who made you do awful, unspeakable things? How would you escape and how would you get revenge?
The bank is an imposing building that was, in reality, a temple to money.
A wide and expansive foyer with interview and conference rooms down one side, a glass sculpture worth a lot of money to one side and then and only after the marble tiled foyer, the expensive sculpture and the waterfall windows, do visitors actually to walk through the thick doors to the bank!
The bank had the attitude that the lowly customers should be glad that they were allowed to give their cash to the bank in exchange for pitiful interest rates and abuse.
I ignored everyone as I rode up the staff elevator and the other occupants of the lift did not speak to me.
‘Good morning, Mister Reynolds,’ the receptionist chirped when I walked into the cash management area.
She wore huge glasses and a disgracefully short dress which, although it was the standard issue uniform, was completely inappropriate! The hem of the skirt should end below the knee and the female legs should be clad in thick blue stockings! It was policy.
Obviously, I disapproved!
As I grunted and moved through the glass doors, I told myself I would have to speak to Samantha Neilson, the Director of Human resources, about the quality of the young women her department was hiring.
‘Good morning, Mister Reynolds,’ Celia, my Personal Assistant said as I thrust my coat to her.’
There was no point in greeting her. I was here, wasn’t I? It was clear I had arrived!
What was the point of saying hello when I was obviously here? Therefore, I did not bother with the tiresome customary greeting.
I could see the disappointment in her eyes. Sulkiness almost, which was to be expected. Females are, after all, like children!
Women can be so wearing with their craving for approval and desperate need for social interaction. If they were not the reproductive carriers of our race, evolution would have eliminated the female many thousands of years ago.
It was the basis for another book I was writing. The manuscript was in a drawer in my home office. As I enjoyed writing, I had also written a thesis on theft within financial instructions. My theory was that idiots like Brian De Brett (current head of security for our bank) had no hope of catching any person who intended to rob a bank from within. Of course, it was only an academic theory.
I sat behind my desk and tasted the coffee Celia had, as usual, placed in the centre of my desk. It was not as hot as I liked.
‘This is not hot, Celia,’ I said with a frown.
How difficult is it to make coffee? How do women have babies? If men weren’t here to help them…
‘I’m sorry, Mister Reynolds but I made it at the usual time. Perhaps you took a little longer than normal coming up from the car park.’
She was nervous. I make employees nervous. It was a slightly satisfying feeling to make people worried and afraid.
‘That is possible. However, I require a hot coffee. Please make a fresh cup.’
I turned away from her and turned my attention to the computer screen for the market updates.
Celia left the office without a word and left the tepid cup of coffee on my desk.
She did not return.
An hour later, there was a knock on my door and, turning from the figures on the screen, I saw Samantha Neilson, Director of Human resources, in the doorway.
‘Just the person I want to see,’ I said.
‘Oh? You know?’ Samantha asked, nonchalantly sitting in the visitor chair. ‘The grapevine is more efficient than I thought.’
I frowned. I had not invited her to sit but I let it go. Women had their own childish rules and did not understand the core values of respect and courtesy!
‘I know a great deal, Samantha,’ I said primly. ‘As you are aware, I am an Executive of the bank and in command of several cash management trusts and the investment vehicles associated with…’
The woman had no respect and had the blunt temerity to interrupt me!
‘I’m sure you do but you know about Celia?’
‘Your Personal Assistant?’
‘I know who Celia is!’
‘You just looked like you were struggling there for a moment, Alistair.’
Samantha Neilson irritated me! Most women did with their flighty statements and wild ideas as well as their tendency to burst into tears at some inexplicable event or mere words.
‘I need to talk to you about the standard of the receptionists…’ I said primly. ‘Have you see the way that woman at reception is wearing her uniform?’
‘That will have to wait, Alistair. Celia has just been in my office to resign.’
I frowned at her.
‘Resign? She can’t resign.’
‘I’m afraid she can,’ Alistair,’ Samantha said patiently. ‘And she’s saying you have verbally abused her.’
‘Me? That is insane. Is she menstruating?’
Samantha sighed wearily.
‘Good god, you are the most irritating man I have ever had the misfortune to meet. This is not the first complaint we’ve received, Alistair,’ Samantha said with a frown.
‘Women are completely irrational…’
‘I hate to point this out, Alistair, but I am a woman.’
‘I know. Anyway, as I was saying, women are completely irrational…’
‘Did you have a mother? Sometimes,’ she added softly, ‘I doubt that you did…’
‘My mother was a flighty, irrational woman who ran off to be an actress when I was seven! I have neither seen or or spoken to her since.’
‘That explains a lot. You’ve never been married?’
‘You know very well from my records that I am not married.’
‘Have you ever been in a relationship with a woman?’
‘So, you are not homosexual?’
‘Of course not! What an extraordinary thing to say! It is patently absurd! Homosexuality is a sickness and, along with cancer and the common cold, scientist will, one day, find a cure…’
‘Then, why are you strange with women?’
‘Strange? I find that insulting. I merely give clear and very specific directions. I also expect the highest possible standards in behaviour, performance and dress.’
‘You can’t tell people what to wear, Alistair.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I am the Director of Human Resources…’
‘We should be able to tell them to wear appropriate clothing…the bank favours its employees by giving them a uniform…’
‘Which is dowdy and uncomfortable.’
‘It is appropriate!’
‘Celia has been transferred to another department. You do not have a Personal Assistant.’
‘Simply replace her.’
‘I would if I could find someone. No one wants to work with you, Alistair.’
‘It’s working for me, not with me, Samantha.’
Samantha rolled her eyes and stood up.
‘I have a new woman starting today. I’ll ask her if she would be willing to work as your Personal Assistant.’
‘Then the matter is settled.’
‘Can you be nice to her?’
‘I am polite to all my employees…’
‘I’ll bring her by if she wants the job.’
‘I will assume she wants it.’
‘Don’t be so sure. The other girls will warn her.’
‘Warn her?’ I said, puzzled. ‘Am I a monster?’
Samantha stopped at the door.
‘Yes, Alistair,’ she said seriously, ‘by the standards of today, you are a monster.’