Elaine and Sandra usually managed to arrive at the office at roughly the same time each morning. It gave them time to have a cup of coffee, make a few adjustments to their hair and make up and catch up on a bit of gossip. They both worked in the sales section of a large advertising company and their main topic of conversation at that time was David Melshaw, the sales department manager and his penchant for sexual harassment. His activities had increased steadily over the last few months and the girls were getting more and more fed up with it.

They knew better than to complain. They wanted to get on and they were realistic enough to know that all the legislation in the land would not protect them against the ways of the career world. People who had complained of this and that in the past may have had their complaints upheld, yet they still seemed to end up leaving the company as soon as the dust had settled, often to go to lower paid posts. So complaining was out, they had to find another way.

Later that morning Melshaw came breezing into Sandra and Elaine’s office and waved some papers under Elaine’s nose.

‘Get these typed up for me, preferably before lunch. And isn’t it time you changed the style of your clothes. That neckline is far too high for a girl with your attributes.’ He let the papers fall onto the desk and gently brushed the back of his hand against Elaine’s right breast as he did so. She heaved a sigh, said nothing and began to gather up the papers.

Sandra at that point had just bent down to put some more paper in the printer when Melshaw came up behind her and actually put his hands on her buttocks.

‘Excuse me, Sandra,’ he said, ‘I need to get to the photocopier.’

‘The photocopier is over there,’ said Sandra pointing across the room. ‘Oddly enough, it’s always been there,’ she said, icily.

‘What are we going to do?’ wailed Elaine, as the two girls unwrapped their packed lunches in the rest room. ‘I’ve had just about enough.’

‘I don’t know,’ replied Sandra. ‘I wish he would get himself transferred to some where else or something. I just can’t relax when he’s around.’

They hadn’t noticed Mrs Middleton sitting in the corner reading a romantic novel with a Granny Smith apple and a cup of camomile tea in front of her. She looked up to them and said, ‘By “him” I take it you mean David Melshaw. He’s incorrigible, he even tries it on with me sometimes.’ The girls looked aghast. Mrs Middleton was approaching sixty and wore tweedy suits and sensible brogues.

‘Yes, ridiculous, isn’t it? Do you know his wife? She’s the jealous type you know. Now she would just about flip if she knew what he was up to. She knows me from the Choral Society. We both belong to it, but I’m not exactly a threat, you understand. But you two, well, your young, attractive, vivacious - all the things the highly-strung Mrs Melshaw fears most in another woman.

‘By the way are you two going to the company dinner next Thursday night? You really ought to you know, just about everyone will be there, with his or her partner of course. A good excuse to get your glad rags on and have a good time. I’m sure you two could have a particularly good time, you know, being young and attractive.’ Mrs Middleton returned to her book and her healthy lunch and didn’t say anymore.

Later that afternoon Sandra came back into the office after a short absence.

‘I’ve got the tickets for the dinner next week. All we need now is the outfits. We’ll have to nip into town tomorrow afternoon, before the shops shut. I fancy something to show off my perfect body,’ she said, flippantly.

***

On the evening of the company dinner Sandra went to Elaine’s flat to get ready and to sleep the night afterwards to save on the taxi fare. They had each bought themselves a new party dress, Elaine had a short black one cut quite low at the front and Sandra had found a deep bottle green sheath style which clung to every curve of her body. They styled each other’s hair, experimented with one another’s make-up, lent each other pieces of jewellery and accessories until each was satisfied with the combined end result. They managed to get themselves ready just in time for the arrival of their taxi to take them to the hotel where the dinner was to be held.

Their original plan was to flirt outrageously with Melshaw, in front of his jealous wife and do all the things to him that he did to them while in the office. However, once at their table a wave of stage fright and conscience took over and they wondered if it was such a good idea after all. Firstly, sexually orientated behaviour directed at one of their superiors would not guarantee them a swift passage up through the office hierarchy. Secondly, to play on the fear and insecurity of another woman would hardly be a very fair thing to do. So, as they sat there, wondering if their efforts were to be all in vain and what their next move ought to be, Mrs Middleton came gliding over towards them.

Hello, girls,’ she said cheerily. ‘You both look wonderful. It’s lovely to be able all the latest fashions - looking at you reminds me of my modelling days. I expect you are wondering which one is Mrs Melshaw. Well, it’s her standing by the bar surrounded by men; do you see? In the red velvet dress. I don’t know what’s going on but she didn’t wear that a fortnight ago when we sang The Messiah I can tell you. I suspect she’s playing him at his own game. He’s over there on that table by the window talking to one of the directors. He’s not paying much attention. Do you see how he keeps looking over to his wife? There’s a worried man if ever I saw one.’

‘Umm,’ said Sandra. ‘He doesn’t look his usual bolshy self at all, I’ll give you that. Maybe we ought to switch to Plan B.’

‘Which is what?’ said Elaine.

‘To have a bloody good time,’ said Sandra.

‘Sounds like a good idea to me,’ said Mrs Middleton. ‘Make the most of it while you can. Time soon passes, you only have to look at me. Grab opportunities with both hands, I say. Something will sort itself out, it always does. I’ll see you two later, on the dance floor, I hope.’ With that Mrs Middleton got up and returned to her own table.

Sandra and Elaine began to discuss Mrs Middleton and what a nice old stick she really is and who’d have thought she had ever been a model, when two young men approached their table. From then on the evening passed in a blur of drinking, dining, dancing, conversation and laughter. Between them they must have danced with every single male in the company, even creepy Jeffery, the maintenance man. They also fitted in a few dances with several of the married men, some of whom were quite influential cogs in the company wheel.

When they did finally arrive back at Elaine’s flat, light hearted and decidedly light headed they brewed some coffee and sat down to compare notes. ‘Hate to tell you this, Sand, but I might be moving on to work in the design room,’ confessed Elaine.

‘Oh, good,’ replied Sandra, ‘that’s right next door to Personnel - I shall still be able to pop in and see you! When our jobs come up for grabs I shall be able to vet the candidates. This company needs a few more male employees. Then maybe Melshaw will keep his hands to himself!’

***

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