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To show Clive and Eric my appreciation for rescuing the company, and the planned merger with Hunter's being accepted, without too many job losses, I invited them over for a celebratory high tea at my apartment, at 8pm. Food wise, I laid out a selection of nibbles and hors-doeuvres, and as promised, some champagne; at around £8-00 a bottle mind. After what happened on Thursday (see part 1), I saw no reason to disappoint them and so wore: black, full lingerie, black skirt, a white open neck-button through blouse, a champagne pink jacket and black-patent shoes with a 6inch heel. Just before 7.50 the doorbell rang. ‘They're early,' I muse, as I go and answer it. Opening the door I see that there are three of them, and stepping into my flat, Eric introduces Roland, a tall black colleague, from sales. "Hello Roland," I say, and extend my hand for him to shake, which he does, and quite firmly with it. Waiting just ahead of me, I now close the door and then usher them into my living room, whereupon I tell them to help themselves to food and drink.

Clive, once again being the spokesman, says: "the reason Roland's here, Tanya, is because he's come up with some interesting suggestions for you to consider." "Okay then," I say, inviting him to explain. "Having rescued the, or more to the point, your company, with our proposal," Clive continues, "Roland here, figures that Eric and me should get at least a 10% raise, and a job title befitting our magnitude." "I see, and how do you suggest I square that with the new owners? Roland," I ask, in the hope that he'll now reply. "From what Clive tells me, ...

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