This story is in nine parts and will be published in fortnightly instalments.

 

Both Opium and opiumaddict welcome feedback.

 

Part one

 

‘Coffee?’ Bob Charles asked.

 

Opium nodded her assent. He got up from behind his desk and gestured toward the smart glass coffee table surrounded by four comfy armchairs in the corner of the room and stood back to allow her to go first. She smiled to herself reading his motive. Sure enough, once she was seated he sat opposite her so that he would have a view of her legs.

 

‘Men are so easy to read and manipulate,’ she thought to herself.

 

He poured for both of them. Opium liked her coffee strong and black.

 

‘The papers should be ready for signature in a few minutes,’ he smiled at her as he adjusted his position slightly to get an even better view of her legs.

 

Opium had known Bob Charles for four or five years, ever since he had taken over as manager of the Australian subsidiary of the bank. She knew he liked women, especially those who dressed smartly and showed a bit of leg. She had come to the meeting prepared, wearing a dark red business suit. The skirt was just a little too short for convention, a couple of inches above the knee and it revealed a good expanse of thigh, clad in sheer black pantyhose. She wore a crisp white blouse the top button of which she had left undone and her outfit was finished with a pair of black shoes with a three inch stiletto heel.

 

Charles was almost drooling as he made small talk. She smiled inwardly, knowing she was having the effect she intended. She had just struck a fabulous deal with him, a loan of the full amount she had requested on terms even better that she had thought she could achieve.

 

Charles prattled on. Something about his golf club for Heaven’s sake. As if she was in the slightest bit interested. She took a cigarette from her handbag and despite the ‘Please do not smoke’ sign on the wall, lit it with a gold lighter. Charles frowned for a split second and then walked across to his desk and brought an ashtray from his desk drawer. Opium rewarded him with a smile and then crossed her legs. Charles started to drone on once more and she was relieved when the secretary came back with the papers.

 

Five minutes later it was all done. The loan was subject to approval by head office, which was in London, but Charles assured her it would be approved without question and that the formal letter would be sent to her London address within a week. The funds would be available a week later.

 

‘What time is your flight?’ Charles asked her. She told him three hours and that she had plenty of time. He called her a taxi, saw her into it personally and took one last lecherous look at her legs as he told the driver to take her to the airport.

 

An hour later Opium was sitting in the business class lounge. She was furious. She invariably travelled first class but had been told at check in that there was no room in first. She did not like to throw money away so normally booked business class and upgraded. She had found that 75% of the time she could get a free upgrade, especially if she could find a male check in clerk who she could charm. Not only had she not been able to get a free upgrade but even when she offered to pay she had been refused. First class was fully booked and that was that.

 

She had brought a change of clothing with her, not wanting to have to sit on a plane for 12 hours in a business suit. She would be far more comfortable in jeans, a tee-shirt and trainers but before she changed she decided to have a cigarette, it might be the last one before the flight. The lounge was non smoking. How she hated the fascists who dictated smoking policies. She was not a heavy smoker, more of a social smoker really, but sometimes she felt the need  to experience the relaxation of a leisurely cigarette. She picked up her bags and wandered out of the lounge to find the designated smoking area. On the way she passed the first class lounge and out of curiousity stuck her head round the door to see how full it was. In addition to the young woman guarding the entrance there was only one other person there.

 

He was sitting, reading a newspaper, a drink on the table beside him. She studied him for a few seconds. Immaculately dressed in a light suit, blue shirt and yellow tie. Early forties, she guessed. Probably quite tall, it was difficult to tell with him seated, a full head of black hair, a few strands of grey at the temples and quite good looking. The glasses he wore gave him a distinguished look. Opium thought she had seen him before and quite recently but could not place him. At that moment he looked up and straight at her. Their eyes locked for a fraction of a second. Even behind the glasses he had piercing blue eyes. She turned away and continued her journey to the designated smoking area.

 

She found a seat, made herself comfortable and lit her cigarette. She reflected on the deal she had struck with the bank. Opium was Australian born and bred. For the moment she was living in the UK but her main business interests were in Australia, particularly in property. She had been given the opportunity to purchase an old warehouse in prime position in Sydney for $5million, Australian. It would take around $3million to refurbish it and convert it to 12 flats which she knew she could sell for $1.2million each. The project would take nine months to a year and net her gross a profit of over $6million. The bank had agreed to lend her the full purchase price immediately and to make available the $3million refurbishment costs, which she could drawdown as needed and all at an incredible interest rate of 1.5% over base rate. She would make well over $4.5 million after repaying the bank and all legal costs.

 

By means of that sixth sense that many posses, she gradually became aware that someone was watching her.  She glanced around, casually, her eyes sweeping the room. The man from the first class lounge was sitting on the row opposite her, about ten seats down. She gave no sign that she had seen him but she was intrigued. She had purposely found a quiet spot and there was no one else within three rows. It had to be more than coincidence. She realised that during her deliberations, she had crossed her legs and was swinging one leg slightly. Her shoe had slipped to the end of her foot and was dangling perilously close to falling off.

 

She took a magazine from her bag, lit another cigarette and pretended to read whilst watching him from the corner of her eye. Sure enough, his eyes were glued to her swinging foot. She smiled to herself. She sometimes did this deliberately to attract what she termed as ‘footmen’ and now it seemed she might have attracted one completely by accident. She saw him begin to squirm in his seat and his hand went to his pocket, obviously trying to gain a comfortable position with an erection. At that moment she looked up and directly at him. His eyes came up from her foot to meet his and he began to redden. Suddenly he started to get up.

 

Opium was not sure where this might be going but it could be fun and she was not about to let an opportunity slide. Thinking quickly, she let her shoe fall to the ground. It hit the tiled floor with a light thud. Immediately his eyes were drawn back to her foot and he sat down again. She did not want to lose the advantage and looking directly at him she said in a low voice, ‘I would expect a gentleman to retrieve my shoe and to put it back on for me.’

 

For a few seconds he did not react but then, rather than stand up and reveal his embarrassing state, he slid across the benches until he was directly opposite her. He bent forward and picked up her shoe, handling it lightly, almost caressing it. He reached forward towards her foot.

 

‘Not, yet,’ she said, ‘Kiss it first.’ She was fairly sure he would do as she asked but she was gratified when he brought her shoe to his lips and kissed it reverently.

 

‘Now you may put it back on. I want you to kneel, kiss my foot and put the shoe back on.’ This was the real test. Had she found a footman who was also submissive? In her opinion that applied to 99% of footmen. She was not wrong. He knelt before her, bowed his low to kiss her foot, which she now rested on the ground, and lifted her foot gently whilst he replaced the shoe.

 

He began to rise. ‘Stay there,’ she ordered. He continued to kneel, his eyes never leaving her feet. She kept him there for around a minute until she became aware that some people were beginning to take notice and not wanting to draw too much attention she told him to get up and to sit down opposite her.

 

‘What shall I do with you?’ She asked him.

 

He blushed. ‘Where are you travelling to?’ he asked her. When she told him he said ’I am going to London also. It would be my pleasure and privilege if you would join me in travelling first class.’

 

Ten minutes later they were sitting together in the first class lounge. Opium was sipping a glass of excellent red wine as they talked.

 

To be continued