18. Sticky back? Drastic…

Toots was a new rep.

Bickerdike was an account handler.

They were two women on a mission.

They had a chance to land a big contract.

Neither one had been given a chance like this before.

They could not fuck up.

Train to London. 10.30am. Meeting with FatClient.com scheduled: 1.00pm.

“I’m going to honest here, Toots. I’m terrified!”

“Me too, Bickerdike. I can’t stop farting!”

Nervous giggles.

“If we’re like this now, what will we be like in the meeting?”

Toots shook her head.

“Fuck knows, Bickerdike. I’m not sure I’m cut out for this. Don’t know about you, but I’m dying for a fag.”

“Yeah, I am as well. Shame you can’t smoke on trains.”

“Yeah, Shame.”

*Welcome to the 9.50 train from Leeds to London. A trolley servive offering drinks and light refreshments will be with you shortly. Thank you!*

Toots looked at Bickerdike.

Bickerdike looked at Toots.

The trolley arrived.

“Two white wines, please.”

They arrived in London.

Both feeling slightly more relaxed.

“Do we have time?”

“Ooh, ages yet!”

“Shall we?”

“Be rude not to!”

“Bartender? Two large white wines, please!”

Drinking before a big meeting is a gamble.

In this case, it paid off.

In the meeting they came across as cool, relaxed professionals, with surprisingly minty breath.

They walked out of the meeting with the deal in the bag.

Contracts would be in the post first thing in the morning.

All that they had to do now was wine and dine the clients on the company credit card.

A bottle of wine in the hotel room as they got ready.

Cocktails in the bar.

Toots and Bickerdike were on fire.

They got the contract!


Champagne and Lobster.

Large brandies.

The clients loved it.

They loved Toots and Bickerdike.

For a while.

As the booze flowed, the veneer of cosmopolitan respectability wore thin on the girls, revealing a very different side.

Castleford and Doncaster.

Mining towns, terraced houses, Labour clubs and chip shops.

They’d hit the big time.

They were two women on a mission.

They were going to party.

The clients were getting nervous.

Restaurant faded to bar, bar became night club.

Toots was refused alcohol at the bar.

Bickerdike fell over on the dance floor.

The clients quietly left.

Toots got thrown out of the club

She decided to call it a night.

At two.

She collapsed on to the bed in the hotel room, half undressed, snoring loudly.

An hour later, Bickerdike stumbled in.

She wasn’t alone.

“Shhh! You don’t wanna wake my friend! shis sleepin’! Y’ know, people have got you gypsys all wrong! Y’ lovely, you are! Reet lovely…”

Bickerdike slumped onto the bed next to Toots, and she also began to snore…

Morning was painful.

Toots woke first.

“Ooh, my poor fucking head! What happened last night, Bickerdike? Bickerdike! Wake up, love.”

“Snore.. Wha? Bloody hell… I feel shocking, Toots. What happened? Urgh! What’s that on my back?”

Toots and Bickerdike had only managed to take off their blouses before they passed out.

The young chancer who had walked Bickerdike home felt a bit cheated when she flaked out.

He decided to make the best of the situation.

And wanked off over the sleeping girls backs.

“Oh my God, I’m gonna be sick…”

As Bickerdike moaned into the toilet bowl, Toots noticed the door to the mini bar was open.

It had been emptied.

“Fucking hell…”

All the next week they waited for the contracts to arrive in the post.

They never came.

What did arrive was the company credit card statement.

It was back to the job center for Toots and Bickerdike.

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One Response to 18. Sticky back? Drastic…

  1. Pingback: Reprographics... - Page 6 - London Fixed-gear and Single-speed

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