.. a book of fiction I wrote earlier, here is a bit from Chapter whatever for JB
The father in James' family passed away a year later, at the office, in circumstances that were described as "the result of sadness after the loss of a first son, combined with evidence of stress at the work that he so loved". These testimonials were being spoken with a suppressed smile and added to the pathetic charade that was Brampton‘s the Art Gallery, Auctioneers, Valuers….. in the old days.
For example, the actual circumstances surrounding the demise of Conrad Senior was now the stuff of legend. He was a randy old sod basically and could never let a pretty secretary go by without an abuse of power and a physical assault. He had caused a family rift with Mrs Brampton (old Mrs Brampton) after having been caught with a young Cynthia (on loan from the UK office) bent over the boardroom table with his trousers around his ankles by his wife herself accompanied by Aunt Gloria.
The scene must have been hysterical and bordering on the surreal.
It is anecdotally reported that old man Brampton was heard to say
"It's not what it seems Dorothy" whilst holding down his wriggling but trapped prey doing her best to eject him and extract herself from the situation.
He had always denied it had happened. The phrase "red-handed" to him meant one thing: everything was to be denied. So it was for five years and he was afterwards quoted as having purported the following,
"Young man, if you ever get caught with your dick up a younger woman by the one whom you have married, never ever admit it. They see it but really they don't want to, so don't disappoint them. Even though women will insist on having seen things with their own eyes, you must always deny it. Women are programmed to forget anything and everything that remotely pains them. This ranges from the pain of childbirth to the infidelities, sorry, alleged infidelities of husbands. Give the ladies a few years and they start to question whether they were there at all. So, no matter how righteously guilty you may feel and how the urge to cleanse the soul by admitting may be, never, ever, admit anything like that".
So it was, time passed and situations returned to normal, for about three months the status quo was re-established and everyone went about their business as if nothing had happened. It was not long before a young, slightly plump and built for comfort and not for speed Natalie had her life ruined by a brief moment of heightened excitement caused by the old man's muscle spasms as he merrily coronaried himself to the boardroom floor with the groan of a disappointed camel. His trousers around his ankles preventing a graceful fall and remaining bodily functions leaving an odd stain on the carpet. The poor weeping Natalie whose life-threatening potential during the sex-act needed therapy in years to come left to return home to the Ukraine whence she came. She received a healthy farewell bonus and a legacy that would probably outlive her. It was necessary to remove the complete carpet in the boardroom but it never happened. The small memorial stain served as a marker, a warning that some saluted and some frowned at, but for those who knew its history it became an icebreaker with those of a suitable client mentality and therefore somehow an asset to the company.