Multiple Choice

This is a rewritten version of the original, rewritten on 17/5/2016. 

My boss's beautiful daughter, my boss's beautiful house and my boss, beautifully out for the night. She was naked and I was happy. I kissed her beautiful lips and she smiled at me with her eyes. This was love or at least lust that felt like love. Let’s call it lost. But that happiness soon turned sour as we heard a car crunch on the drive signalling the return of the boss and his wife, back early! We stood frozen to the spot, listening to the engine die and the doors open. Lust had turned to panic. I looked around for my clothes, my shoes, my phone.

“Quick,” she hissed at me.
“Fucking hell, I’m going as fast as I can.” I snapped back.

I'd just managed to shut the back door as he opened the front.

“Still up Sally?” His voice boomed out suspicion dripping from his every word.

The light went on in the kitchen and I could see his ugly face peering out into the garden. I hid in the shadows hoping he wouldn’t see me. It was bloody freezing but at least it had stopped raining. I was trying to control my breathing, trying to slow my heart rate, but I couldn’t stop my teeth from chattering. Surely he could hear them. Finally, after what seemed like an age, all the lights in the house went out, Donald had gone to bed and I could plot my get away. I weighed up my options - should I just make a mad dash for it or try to creep away? I decide the mad dash would be best. I counted to three and then ran. But I had forgotten the bloody fountain. I didn't fall in, but I cracked my shin against the low wall. I'll be honest, I swore loudly and violently. I saw lights come on, I had to get out of there before he saw me. I was in agony but the adrenalin kicked in, in two leaps I was over the fence and off down the lane and didn’t stop running until I got home.

My shin was pretty ragged, there was blood and bruising and it bloody hurt to walk but at least I’d not been caught messing around with the boss’s 18-year-old daughter.

The next day I hobbled into work, but just as I got there I realised I had to walk normally. I couldn't reveal my injury or questions would be asked and he wouldn't need an abacus to realise 2 and 2 = 4. It hurt to walk straight but the smarting would do me good, keep me alert.

As I was making my morning cup of coffee the boss came in.

“I think,” Donald started. “that Sally had a boy…”

I turned away to stop him seeing any tells in my expression. I could feel my hand shake as I spooned the coffee into the mug.

“…in my house last night.”

“Really?” I blurted, my voice was just about steady, although maybe I'd reacted a little quickly. I stifled a yawn.

“Yes,” he then proceeded to tell me the story I knew oh so well. I could feel him watching me, did he suspect me or was I displaying the paranoid of the guilty? I struggled to keep a straight face especially when he delivered his coup de grace.

“This morning I found a dirty great big footprint in my flowerbed. I’ve got a photo of it. If I find a match, they'll be hell to pay.” I gulped a silent gulp.  Jesus he was one footstep away from having me banged to rights. I hobbled in to my office and  got on with my day's work.

I was so absorbed in my work and in trying to avoid my boss, I hadn’t noticed it had begun to snow. Donald came through to my office with good news.

‘You can knock off early junior, get home before this gets too bad.’ He nodded towards the window.

For some reason, he walked me to the front door. I was just about to take the first step when I realised I had a problem - namely the virgin snow on the forecourt. It was about to be christened by my trainer revealing the very footprint Donald had on his phone. This was not good, not good at all. I hesitated took a deep breath and…

You decide. 

Does he:

a)   tell his boss it was him in the house and that his intentions towards Sally are honourable.

1.  This works and hugs all around. 

2.  This leads to a bruising

b)  try to skate across the forecourt  therefore simultaneously making and obliterating his footprints.

1. This works, but his boss thinks he is a fool

2. This fails and leads to a bruising.  

c)   tell his boss he is quitting his job and then run like the wind. 

The choice is yours.

My boss's beautiful daughter, my boss's beautiful house and my boss, beautifully out for the night. She was naked and I was happy. But that happiness soon turned sour as we heard a car crunch on the drive signalling the return of the boss and his wife, back early! I'd just managed to shut the back door as he opened the front. I heard him ask ‘still up Sally?’ suspicion dripping from his voice.

I hid in the shadows until all the lights in the house went out. It was bloody freezing but at least it had stopped raining. I was trying to control my breathing, trying to slow my heart rate, but I couldn’t stop my teeth from chattering.  Finally, after what seemed like an age, Donald went to bed and I could plot my get away. I weighed up my options - should I just make a mad dash for it or try to creep away? I decide the mad dash would be best. I counted to three and then ran. But I had forgotten the bloody fountain. I didn't fall in, but I cracked my shin against the low wall. I'll be honest I swore loudly and violently. I saw lights come on in the house, I had to get out of there before he saw me. I was in agony but the adrenalin kicked in, in two leaps I was over the fence and off down the lane and didn’t stop running until I got home.

My shin was pretty ragged, there was blood and bruising and it bloody hurt to walk but at least I’d not been caught messing around with the boss’s 18-year-old daughter.

The next day I hobbled into work, but just as I got there I realised I had to walk normally. I couldn't reveal my injury or questions would be asked and he wouldn't need an abacus to realise 2 and 2 = 4. It hurt to walk straight but the smarting would do me good, keep me alert.

As I was making my morning cup of coffee the boss came in.

‘I think,’ Donald started. ‘that Sally had a boy…’

I turned away to stop him seeing any tells in my expression.

‘…in my house last night’ 

‘Really?’ I blurted, my voice was just about steady although maybe I'd reacted a little quickly.

‘Yes,’ he then proceeded to tell me the story I knew oh so well. I could feel him watching me. I struggled to keep a straight face especially when he delivered his coup de grace.

‘This morning I found a dirty great big footprint in my flowerbed. I’ve got a photo of it. If I find a match, they'll be hell to pay.’ I gulped a silent gulp and got on with my day's work.

I was so absorbed in my work and in trying to avoid my boss I hadn’t noticed it had begun to snow. Donald came through to my office with good news.

‘You can knock off early junior, get home before this gets too bad.’ He nodded towards the window.

For some reason he walked me to the front door. I was just about to take the fist step when I realised I had a problem - namely the virgin snow on the forecourt. It was about to be christened by my trainer revealing the very  footprint Donald had on his phone. I hesitated took a deep breath and…

You decide.

Does he:

a)   tell his boss it was him in the house and that his intentions towards Sally are honourable.

1.  This works and hugs all around.

2.  This leads to a bruising

b)  try to skate across the forecourt  therefore simultaneously making and obliterating his footprints.

1. This works, but his boss thinks he is a fool

2. This fails and leads to a bruising. 

c)   tell his boss he is quitting his job and then run like the wind.

The choice is yours.