I am a hands-on supervisor. That’s how my father ran this company, and that’s how I’ve always ran it, too, since I took over as Chief Executive Officer five years ago. At twenty-seven, I was the youngest CEO in the history of our company, which my great-great-grandfather started over a hundred years ago, but my degrees in finance and business from major universities, as well as my tutelage under my father, had more than prepared me to take over. And I’ve done an outstanding job, increasing our revenue and taking on new clients at a quick rate.
That’s why I hate failure.
As I gaze out through my glass windows at the crowd of employees moving quickly between offices and cubicles, my eyes fall on one face. Jeff Thompson, Vice-President of Finance for our largest branch. How he came to be a VP, I am not sure. In the two years that he has worked here, he has done nothing to impress me. In fact, he fails at almost every task I assign him. I should probably fire him.
The only reason I haven’t is because I have a memory from the Christmas party I cannot shake. Jeff Thompson, standing off to the side of the crowd, next to a stunning woman in a long red gown. She was probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and ever since that night, five months ago, I haven’t been able to get her out of my head.
I can only assume she was his wife. He never introduced me to her. She looked… uncomfortable. Out of place. Like she didn’t want to be there. Maybe she didn’t want to be with him. I wanted to go to her then, to see if there was a way I could make her more comfortable, as the host, of course. But I was constantly bombarded with other people needing my attention, and I never did make it over to her. I never got a chance to introduce myself or meet her.
Over the weeks and months that followed, I assured myself it was just as well. She was likely his wife, after all. Jeff does wear a wedding ring. He has no pictures in his office that would clue me in as to whether or not the gorgeous woman with the caramel colored hair and the olive skin, with bright green eyes and full red lips was his wife. Since I have been doing my damndest to put her out of my mind, I saw no point in bringing it up to him either.
And then… there was the Earst and Hanks account. It had been assigned to Thompson to try and acquire it. How such an important acquisition came to be assigned to him is unbeknownst to me. I’ve been wanting to get my hands on this huge account for many years. I checked in on it yesterday to find it was about to slip through Thomspon’s fingers. Luckily, I was able to rearrange my schedule to work on the account myself, and through some miracle, I was able to salvage it. In looking over the work Thompson put into it, I was appalled at what he’d done, or really, what he hadn’t done. It was absolutely grounds for firing him.
But I had something else in mind instead. I know how much this job means to him, and I want to know how far he’ll go to keep it.
I’ve already announced to the company earlier that morning that we will be having a party at Merriweather Towers this evening to celebrate the acquisition. I’ll been sure to have my assistant, Cindy Garza, tell Thompson to bring his wife along. She has reported he’d arched an eyebrow when she’d delivered the message, but he’d nodded and reached for his phone. Cindy didn’t question what I was up to. One of the reasons she’s been my assistant all of these years is because she never questions me. My guess would be she already knows, though, why I am handling the situation the way that I am. She is usually a step ahead of even me.
I try to go about my work, but it’s difficult. I have one eye on Thompson as he slacks off, watching something on his phone. I have heard from others that he is a porn addict. I’m guessing if I did a search on his work computer, I’d have enough proof to fire him over just that. But I don’t ask for the search. Not yet. He does very little work throughout the day while I am constantly answering my phone working with clients and helping my assistants handle their accounts. It irritates me to see a man do next to nothing and earn what I know he is earning.
He deserves to be fired, and I am all about handing out people’s just deserts.
Unless, of course, he’s willing to bargain with me. Then, he might get one more chance.
His wife has to be willing, too, though, because I don’t view her as his property. If she is also willing, he might have a chance to save his job. Otherwise, Jeff Thompson will be packing up his items from his office tomorrow, and my dreams of a beautiful woman dressed in red will remain only dreams.
It is getting late in the afternoon, and I need to get heading to the towers to make sure everything is in order for the celebration. I have watched Thompson do next to nothing all day, and I am seething as I grab my jacket and my attaché case to leave for the evening. It’s almost five o’clock, and I have been in the office since before 8:00.
“Cindy, send for my car,” I say as I head out of my office.
“Yes, sir.”
“You are coming tonight?” I ask her.
“Of course, sir,” she says. “I’ll need to head home and get changed. I can hardly wear this.” Cindy laughs. It is a running joke between us that it isn’t fair that I expect women to wear nice gowns to my get-togethers while most of the men can get by in their office attire. “I’ll be changing, too,” I assure her.
“I know you will be, sir,” she says. No matter how many times I tell her she doesn’t need to call me sir, she does it anyway.
“See you there, Cindy. Thank you for your hard work today.”
“It’s my pleasure,” she says with a smile that tells me she means it. I believe in treating my employees well so they work hard. That’s how Cindy sees it. She works hard so that she can be rewarded and help the company. My eyes travel to Thompson. He has done next to nothing and is making a lot more money than a lot of the people that work here. That has to change.
He looks up from his phone and is startled to see me staring at him. He fumbles with the device and sets it down then begins to type on his computer, looking at me from time to time. I continue to stare at him, hoping he understands that I see him. I see everything he is doing, and everything he is not doing, and it’s time to answer for his actions.
Taking a cab to Merriweather Towers is expensive, but in my silver dress, I am afraid to take the subway. I’m afraid I might get harassed. So I splurge on the taxicab ride. On the way home, Jeff will be with me, so I won’t have to worry about anyone bothering me. I am wearing a silver wrap around my shoulders. Not because I am cold, but because Jeff doesn’t like it when I show too much skin. As I get out of the cab, paying the driver, and tucking my handbag under my arm, I am reminded of the Christmas party I attended here last December. I had worn a red dress I’d bought just for the occasion. I remembered thinking I looked pretty nice, but Jeff was out of sorts all night because he did not like the amount of cleavage I was showing. It didn’t seem like a lot to me. In comparison to some of the other women at the party, it was practically nothing, but we did not have a very good time at the party because he was so angry all night long. I hope he doesn’t mind this dress. He asked me to
She was late. She’d missed the dinner I’d provided for my work associates and their guests. I wonder why she hadn’t arrived on time like everyone else, but then, when I see her step through the door, frazzled, looking anxiously around for her husband, who is standing across the room, leaning against the wall, talking to some of the other people from our team who do not perform well, I understand that Thompson probably didn’t even invite her to the dinner.She rushes over to him, and he stands up straight, looking annoyed, like she’s interrupted some important work discussion. I pretend to listen to the woman standing next to me, one of the presidents of the marketing department who is talking about an account I could care less about, but my eyes are on her, the beautiful woman who is unfortunately attached to that sleaze, Jeff Thompson.I watch as they step away from the others, as Jeff grabs her elbow and pulls her close, a little too violently for my liking. I see her face and know
Braxton Merriweather is standing in front of me--and he knew my name. I can hardly believe my ears. I blink at him a few times, wondering why it is he knows who I am, why it is he’s come to speak to me.I know that Jeff was angry when I arrived. That wasn’t his fault, though. That was my fault. I was out of sorts, and he had every right to be cross with me. Still, people who didn’t understand the situation might think that was Jeff’s fault, that he was being too hard on me.I want to ask Mr. Merriweather how he knows who I am, but I am too shy to pose the question. Instead, I just stand there, staring at him, trying to process the situation. He is absolutely the best looking man I’ve ever seen in real life and probably even more handsome than most of the guys I’ve seen on TV or the movies. He is also rich beyond comprehension.Before I can say anything in response, Braxton asks, “Have you eaten any dinner yet?”I wrinkle my forehead at the question. It seems like such a strange thing
Julia Thompson is breathtaking, and I can’t keep my eyes off of her. I know I need to be more discreet. Staring at her as she sits there nervously on the sofa in the private suite I maintain right off of the main ballroom in my apartment complex, I want to forget that I have a few hundred guests just on the other side of the soundproof door, including her husband. I want to tell Cindy not to bother with the steak, that I’ll give Julia everything that she needs.I can’t do that, though. Not yet anyway. It would be immoral of me to put moves on this married woman--unless, of course, her husband approves it—and so does she. I have been thinking of what I can do to get Jeff Thompson to realize he is not worthy of his wife, but he is such an arrogant asshole, I think he’s somehow gotten the impression he is too good for her. He is about to be reminded that he is nothing, that he is an insignificant peon and that his entire career exists only because I have not lowered my thumb and squashed
Jeff Thompson is standing with a group of low-level workers from his department, laughing, their drinks nearly empty and not for the first time from what I can tell. They are certainly inebriated. I stand back and study them for a while, planning how to say what I need to say to Thompson without losing my cool. Standing this far away from him, looking at him with my expensive liquor in his hand, wearing off-brand shoes and a suit that he’s worn nearly every day since he started working for me, just changing out the shirt under the jacket, I can’t help but wonder what he does with all of the money I pay him. He certainly doesn’t spend it on his wife. But then, I’m pretty sure I already know. It is my understanding that he has a pretty serious addiction to pornography. That can get costly, once a person is entangled. I can’t help but wonder if perhaps he is also paying for sex.Why he would do that when his wife is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, I can’t say, but he has
I am not very hungry, even though the steak and potatoes Cindy has kindly brought to me taste wonderful. I make myself take a few bites as she sits on the sofa near me, making casual conversation. She has asked me about when I met Jeff and where we moved here from, and I have answered her between bites. Now, after four or five pieces of steak, I am nearing my limit. I’m nervous, and it’s difficult to eat something so heavy on a jittery stomach.“Mr. Merriweather was very kind to provide dinner for me,” I say, thinking it might be time to set my fork aside. I look her in the eyes to see if she understands what I am getting at.“He is very thoughtful,” she agrees. “Don’t feel obligated to eat all of it, though. If you’re finished, I’ll have it taken away.”“Do you mind?” It seems so strange to me to have someone waiting on me. I’m not used to it at all. I can’t remember the last time anyone did anything for me.“Not at all,” she says with a smile. Cindy stands and goes to the door she’d
“Just get in the car, and don’t say a word,” Jeff tells me as we exit Merriweather Towers. He has me by the arm, and even though he’s not quite squeezing tightly enough to hurt me, it isn’t comfortable either.I’m not exactly sure why he’s mad at me, though I can think of several reasons. I didn’t stay outside as he had ordered me to. I had interacted with Cindy and her friends as she’d taken me around the party. Though I had tried to keep to myself and be as quiet as possible, I had been forced to greet people, to shake their hands and be polite. I know Jeff doesn’t like it when I touch men, even to shake their hands, but I couldn’t be rude and ignore an outstretched hand, could I? Jeff doesn’t like it when I am rude either.In the taxi, he tells the driver our address and mumbles under his breath about how this will cost a fortune. I feel bad. I know Merriweather doesn’t pay as much as a person would think, which I’ve always thought was odd considering the lavish parties Mr. Merriwe
I hear Jeff’s alarm go off, but it only partially wakes me up. I’m so tired from being out late last night. And from the argument. When we got home, Jeff was so drunk…. He screamed at me for a long time, leaving me in tears. He passed out, and I cried myself to sleep. Despite his anger at me the night before, and the fact that he is clearly hung over, he curses at his phone, turns off the alarm, and promptly pulls his dick out of his briefs.I know the routine. It is the same every morning. I push the blankets off and pull my panties off as he clumsily climbs on top of me. He pushes my nightgown up to my collar bone and sucks hard on my left nipple until it hurts as he presses inside of me. I find a spot on the ceiling to stare at and move my hips a little because he wants me to. I put my hands on his back. He’ll be done soon enough.It takes a little longer this time than normal because Jeff still has alcohol in his system. His dick is small anyway, but when he is drunk or hungover,