Outstripped (30 page)

"Oh
my God. The little red light," thought Jody.

She was
finally realizing, after all this time, that their plan over the last two weeks
had not been for her friendship. It had not been her social development or
indoctrination into the 'it girls' inner sanctum. It had only, and always, been
to show her up. Demoralize. Humiliate. Shit upon.
In public.
On purpose.
From a great height.

The
penny dropped. It was now clear that the only objective of their recent friendship,
attention and tutoring, was her Character Assassination.
But
why?
Unfortunately, as Jody would come to understand, there is no 'why',
there is only 'because'.

She
decided to challenge the evidence.

"I
don't believe you. There is no bloody recording. You're having us all on.
That's just an empty tape."

"Actually
Jody, this one's for you. We've all seen it." Said Charlie, "haven't
we girls?" and the crowd erupted once more with their jeering, whistling
and laughter as she handed over the offending article.

Jody
snatched at it.

The true
scale and horror of her experiences with these
witches
and their
bastard
from wherever he was from, was coming in to full view and glaring
comprehension. Her tears were welling, her colour was draining, and shame was
descending.

An
additional, embryonic emotion, however, was also beginning to amass.

Anger.

But it
would need to wait. Right now, it was time to run again.

Back
through the gauntlet she pushed and jostled. And as she fought her way through
the throng of bodies and the sea of faces, she recognized peers and enemies, so
called friends and foes. It was like some horror film dream sequence, but
eventually she did reach the other end, when the familiar shriek of a penguin
on full squawk assisted in her relief and release from this nightmare. The
crowd dispersed as "Assembly" was called.

She
didn't hang around, though. Home and her mother and her pillow beckoned. It
would take a great deal of crying and self-pity, growing up and hardening up to
deal with this unfathomable and unwarranted lesson in life.

Jody
brought herself round sufficiently, eventually, to watch the video. It did not
make good cinema. Not even as a bad, cheap porn flick. Though it never was
about sex or a video instructive on 'how not to please your man'. The draw for
all the girls at school was, as usual, a good laugh, a good sneer, and the
embarrassment of it all. For someone else that is, not them. A good laugh and a
finger poke at a classmate's expense. The problem was it was hers. And it was
far reaching. Over the coming days she would learn that this was indeed
only
her
copy
, and that others had been distributed, sold even, within Mary
Magdalene and also to various boys from their own Grammar school down the road.

Jody had
a choice. She could run from it all and be ruined, mentally, metaphorically and
physically, or she could stay and fight. Deal with it. Survive and thrive.
Martyred in her own mind and thus saved from all such future abuse.

Time,
tact, tenacity, and the development of rhino skin would eventually get her
through. Helped by a certain amount of dedication and development in the arts
of teenage voodoo, self-determination and meticulous, calculated planning.

She knew
it was going to take a long time and a lot of will power. She was prepared for
that. But somehow there was something missing.
Something to
bring it all together.

Then
Jody recalled how she came up with her “Pledge of Diligence," as she
called it.

She'd
concluded the answer lay in a 'mission statement', like some corporate entity
bent on publicly declaring its plans. But this mission, this statement, this
mantra, would be anything but public.

It
eventually came to her.
The American Pledge of Allegiance.
It had the right kind of sentiment.
The right sort of
importance and sincerity.
It was short, it was poignant, and it had
rhythm.

She was
always reasonably good with her English so it only took a couple of days to
come up with her own meaningful, heart felt, purposeful, gritty, vengeful
version.

But it
worked.

Well, it
worked for Jody anyway.

And
that's all that mattered.

Jody's “Pledge”

“
I pledge my diligence to be bad

To the united ‘skanks’ of St Mary Madge

And to the mean 'bush pig' the four bitches banged

One patient, under dog, who’s invisible

Brings witchery and injustice for all”

Of
course it was childish, teenage nonsense, but it got her through some very
tough times. It also set the scene for a revenge plot beyond the comprehension
of mere man.
A plot that would take her well into her
twenties.
A scheme that would have her travel the globe in search of
just the right contacts, information, artifacts and evidence.
Real or otherwise.
And a plan that would
bring justice, or injustice, depending on your standpoint, for all of Jody's
perpetrators.

"And,"
she thought,” therein lies the answer."

"Witchery
And Injustice For All"

(W.A.I.F.A.)

So, now
you know how, and why, it all began. But Jody, still in Fiji if you remember,
hasn't yet recalled, for
your
benefit
that is, her most daring and triumphant moments.

Of
course, getting
her own
back on all the bitches and
bastards was exceptional, and worthy of celebration. But the chapters of
events, the skirmishes and minor engagements that made up the war as a whole,
were just as rewarding on their own. In a way they brought instantaneous
satisfaction and certainly kept the fire burning whilst patiently awaiting the
finale.

And so,
with fond remembrance, our Jody once again delighted in the individual
successes of her venture. And one particular chapter stood head and shoulders
above them all.

Amsterdam.

On the
second of Lucy's stints at Banner Products, in her role as Luke's tried
(literally) and trusted (by demand and default) Personal Assistant, way back in
2001, the conversation and subject matter of travel came around.

Luke had
the honour of arranging a 'Stag do' on behalf of his best mate and company
solicitor, Graham, later in the year. He took his role as 'Best Man' seriously
and wanted his friend of a number of years to go off, and forth, with a bang.
They all had money in his circle of friends, so a 'trip to remember', was on
the cards and not beyond the reach of their pockets.

Easily
spotting a good opportunity when she came across it, Lucy, in her role as organizer
and assistant for all this kind of shit, took it upon
herself
to help. Of course Luke had used another travel agent on many occasions before,
but Lucy knew of 'the best'. It was a fledgling company, but the owners had an
incredible following. Wealthy, adventurous and influential people from all over
London had positive things to say about 'The Adventurer's Assistant Travel
Agency', or 'T double A' as it had become known. And they stuck with them.
Praise and loyalty for the Agency was easy to find. Anyone who'd ever come
across them had trouble singing their praises highly enough. And, since Lucy
wouldn't
shut up
about them, and had
already made contact with one of the agents (Rachael) on his behalf, Luke had
no choice but to succumb to her incessant but lovable bullying tactics, which
of course were
thigh high
in
seductive undertones, as usual.

Luke
agreed, as expected, to let Lucy assist with the arrangements for the Boy's
weekend away. Her instructions were to get the agents to come up with a stag
weekend to 'go down in history'. He had a long list of questions she needed to
ask of the agents, such as: Was it worth going abroad in the first place?
Where's hot and where's passé? And where can they get up to pretty much
anything without being hauled in, too readily, by the authorities?

He also
sent her on her way with a list of
must
have's
for the trip which included: A decent hotel with separate rooms,
just in case they all got lucky; Somewhere with style and reputation but not
completely full of geriatrics and tourists; Good quality night life with the
added prospect of some fleshy delights, in keeping with the tradition of all
the best stag do's, etc., etc.

On and
on he went until Lucy put a finger to his lips and instructed him in her
inimitable way, to leave it in her more than capable hands.

It would
take about a week for Rachael to come back to Lucy with the best solution.
Careful, strategic, masterful planning from Jody and the team would see Luke,
the Groom, and their entourage in 'Stag heaven' for the weekend of their life.

In
truth, Jody and the girls had a major mission on their hands putting it all
together. It wasn't as simple as choosing a location and booking everything. Oh
no! Jody needed some action of her own on this weekend, though nobody would
know. She needed to check itineraries, flight schedules, staffing and hotels
and pre-arrange the assistance of her own entourage of willing participants and
subjects also. These opportunities don't come around very often, and she needed
to make hay while it was sunny. Or, more specifically, get up to something
devious whilst no one was looking.

As it
turned out they got a little lucky.

Upon
checking Charlie's working schedules and flights they found her to be on
European duties in December. A number of destinations were possible but it
would be just perfect if they could make everything come together in Amsterdam.
Jody already had the new club and some trusted staff and entertainers on her
side. It made perfect sense to make plans around it. She'd have months to get
her plotting and scheming right but the important bit was to get Luke, and at
least one of the 'skanks', in the same town at the same time. Though, they
wouldn't have an inkling of it themselves.

Luke had
expected all the more common destinations to crop up, like Dublin, Hamburg and
Prague. Someone had even suggested Florida, but that was pushing it just for a
weekend. "Amsterdam was a bloody good choice" and when the delights
of this fair city's
Canal
and
Red Light
districts were catalogued for
him, it became a 'no brainer'.

Dates
were set, flights booked, hotel rooms and transport arranged. Even tuxedo
rental was organized.
A nice touch thrown in by Lucy.
It just needed final confirmation and payment from Luke in person, down at the
agency, along with a copy of everyone's passports. So, on one of her remaining
days with B.P.L., he and Lucy made their way in to the city, and since the
parking was a nightmare, as usual, it was left to Lucy to mind his Merc' on the
double yellow lines outside whilst he went in to sign up with Rachael.

Jody was
inconspicuous, of course.

This
opportune, but time constrained moment, was just the ticket for Lucy for a
little more sneaky spy play, and after watching Luke disappear through the shop
front doorway she got to work on exchanging the padlock key on his key ring. It
was the only thing left on her 'to do' list since being sent in by Jody on
these under cover ops, though she had to admit to enjoying every minute of
them.
Other than the actual work that is.

It was a
simple enough task. Turn off the engine, take out the keys and change the
padlock key. Easier said than done. Unless you have men's fingers and nails of
cast iron that is, but not quite such a cinch when you have long pink painted
girly nails, and you like to keep them that way. As luck would have it Lucy had
recently read up on some useful, practical 'life' tips in the pages of some
women's magazine, which included the old 'car key change' problem. She’d come
across it once before, but a staple remover was not appropriate outside of the
office. The answer, and the little object she kept on her person for just the
right occasion, was a ring pull from a drinks can, and in Lucy's case from her
favourite Vodka RTD.

"Voila!"
Or so she thought.

Just as
the ring pull was being administered, she raised her head and noticed Luke's
own head appear out of the doorway followed by some waving hands. He clearly
needed something. She was now in a panic to either get the keys back in the
ignition, or finish the exchange, in case he came back to the car. But then
came a sudden and unexpected tap on the driver's window. It was a "Bloody
Traffic Warden".

Dropping
both the new and old padlock keys on the floor and losing the ring pull in her
lap, she struggled to get the engine running again.

It
worked.

She
looked back at Luke, raised her hands upwards in fake exasperation and real
acceptance of her parking infringement situation, then turned, smiled, waved at
the warden and moved the car on.

"Phew!"

It was a
close one.

She
drove the car around the block, parking halfway to complete her exchange, but
disaster had struck. Picking up the two keys she could no longer work out which
was which key. Not only that, she couldn't find the bloody ring pull and didn't
have time to perform a full seat search and dismantle operation. So she ended
up with a broken nail after all and no idea of whether she'd even completed the
key swap.

On
returning to Luke and the agency frontage she was all hot and bothered. Luckily
the age-old excuses of traffic and traffic wardens were sufficient to cover up
her actual antics and their causes for concern.

As luck
would have it, Lucy's last minute 50/50 gamble was a winner and the broken nail
was hailed a hero. The right padlock key, Jody's padlock key, was
indistinguishably positioned on Luke's Mercedes car key fob.

And so to Amsterdam, and Graham's Stag Do.

Generally
speaking these sorts of things are held in spring or summer, but owing to
Graham's 'Mrs to be' insisting on getting married in January, so they could
secure the right reception venue, they had to organize the big shindig prior to
Christmas. One-week prior, as it eventuated.

After
checking in to their hotel on Friday afternoon, the lads promptly found their
way down to the hotel bar, in casuals, and thence to a nearby 'Brown bar'/cafe
where some of them would soak up the strange and aromatic flavours of the
interior haze that allegedly passed as air, and one or two would actually
purchase the offending weed in order to create more of said haze and a slightly
altered state of mind.

When the
novelty had worn off and a few gills had grown greener the next port of call
would be, well, anywhere really. Just so long as it sold beer, was full of hot
chicks and was en route down to the Red Light district. It was Amsterdam they
were in, not Bournemouth, so this was easy. Curiosity and satisfaction would be
well catered for.

Jody,
through Rachael, had suggested their whole itinerary for the weekend, and as
such was in a position to have them watched wherever they may wander. It was
important on this preliminary evening that they
be
allowed to feel autonomous in all of their decision making. Nothing of the sort
would be left to that sort of chance, as we know.

Jody's
little helpers for the evening were Famke and Aya. Two stunners she'd met in
Ibiza, now put to very good use and pay-rolled at Jody's new strip club. A pair
of uninhibited young teases, they were well used to sexual experimentation,
flirting, giving and getting what they wanted, and they were a formidable
double act in every respect.

'Purely
by chance' they ended up in conversation with our Stag Party in a crowded and
popular bar beside one of the canals near the Red Light district.
These sorts of places are not deemed sleazy by the Dutch
. They're
part of the very essence and fabric of modern nightlife, so they're well
frequented. The Red Light district is not seen as a decidedly male oriented
downtrodden filth hole that the older western world would have us all believe.
It’s a fresh and liberated approach to adult activities, and
there
for all to enjoy. It’s drinking, socializing, partying, dancing, stripping and
sex. And it’s freedom from the hypocrisies of some so-called modern societies.

Anyway,
they allowed themselves to be entertained, conversed and plied with drinks by
Luke and Graham and the gang. It was just like a regular Friday night out on
the town, on the pull, and it looked like our guys had
scored
.

In truth
it was
our girls
who had scored, or
rather, snared and honey trapped. It was a very touchy-feely kind of
evening,
full of smiles, come-ons, innuendo and dirty talk,
but the girls remained chaste and untouched for the evening. Purposefully.
Suitably imbibed and a whole heap of fun, but not to the same extent as the
guys who were, to put it mildly, well pissed.

They
agreed to meet up the following evening after the pre-arranged dinner cruise in
order that the local girls could show the guys around town. Apparently they
would
be needing
an open mind since this was a Stag
Do, and the guys were hell bent on making it a good one. No holds barred etc.
etc. They could come along, but they'd better be prepared to join in. In truth
it was a bit of a cross between a dare and a date for Luke and Graham.

Little
did they know?

The
girls showed them a far better time than their own devices had conjured up the
night before, and to cap it all off found no difficulty in getting them along
to Jody's new 'flesh pit' pride and joy.

It was a
shining example of how to put a strip joint together with both punters' and
performers' best interests at heart.
Plenty to see, plenty to
enjoy and plenty of opportunity to be rewarded for specific skills in the
entertainment industry, both with and without clothes.
Just like Jody's
first club in London, this one, aptly named "Two Lips", was a roaring
success, and in its opening few months had gained a considerable following and
reputation.

Now
whilst Aya and Famke were hard at work and play with the boys, drinking and
letching, some of Jody's other assistants from the world of travel and leisure
had been beavering away with plans and entertainment schedules for Jody's other
unsuspecting subjects.

A number
of the guys from Jody's old flight training crew just happened to be in town
this weekend also. Once again it was no coincidence. It was painstaking planning
and calling in a few favours at the airline staff offices that helped.