It wasn't the first time I'd stood up to a woman and been knocked onto my ass. All I could think of at the time was that here was a pushy bitch riding roughshod on my plans; plans with much time and effort invested in them. She had come sashaying into my office while I was planning the day's schedule with my assistant, Bernice.
"Tim, I won't beat around the bush." she said. "I've had doubts about your strategy with the Demerest account all along. I've just talked to Grant, and he agrees that we should rethink it all. I wanted to tell you myself."
I stared aghast at her as she stood there surveying the room; looking at it as though she were redecorating it in her mind.
"Bernice, will you excuse us, please." I said icily.
'The fucking nerve of her!', I thought, waiting for the door to close.
"You went over my head." I began, my fists clenched on the top of my desk. "I thought we were working as a team - all of us. I thought this was a team effort!"
Jenna sighed and cocked her head to one side.
"I don't know, Tim. I mean, we have talked, haven't we? You know how I feel about it. Bob Demerest wants a better return, and your so-called diversification strategy is getting him a case of financial anemia."
"Rubbish! He's getting a solid nine percent over time. He's happy. And, frankly, I'm not concerned about whether you are."
"Now, now, Tim. Reality can be unpleasant, but you need to face it. I'm running the account now. And though you may not care about my happiness, just so you know, I'm really quite pleased at this turn of events."
Jenna walked past me to the window, her hips moving carelessly under her tight skirt.
I hated her guts, but I also loved watching her move. Leaning against the window frame, she surveyed the street below.
I swiveled my chair to face her.
"You fucking whore." I seethed, my voice trembling with rage and impotence.
"Oh, I'm a whore. Is that it? I have some innovative ideas, ideas that Clark likes, I should add, and suddenly I'm a whore? Get real. This game is called hardball, my dear."
Her nonchalance angered me further. She still had her back to me as her eyes moved over the scenery. I took in her tall frame, her no-nonsense short haircut. I tried not to feel the hunger I normally felt when I was checking her out, but there it was. God, she was hot. She was of a slight, elegant build from her small waist up. On the downside, that waist gave way to gorgeously rounded hips and ass. Watching it all shift and move when she walked was one of the great pleasures of any work day. But for now, it infuriated me that I could not put my lust aside. Here I was being screwed by this ballcutter, and inside I was drooling.
"Looks like storm clouds on the way." she noted casually. "So, look," she said, turning towards me and leaning against the sill, "I'll forget your impudence this time. If it happens again, I'm going to have a sit-down with the big guy. I don't think he'd approve. You need to learn to take some knocks without taking it personally. I mean, you'll last longer. What do you say?"
I wanted to stand up to confront her, but I was beginning to have an erection.
"I'm going to have a talk with Grant myself. I'm not going to be walked on." I said emphatically.
"I'm sure he wants to talk to you as well." Jenna replied, smiling mischievously.
"What have you been saying about me?" I demanded, and got up from my chair.
"Oh, Clark likes to bounce things off of me. we talk about this and that."
I'd like to bounce an ashtray off your skull, you cunt! I fumed inwardly. But even as these words formed in my mind, I could not help wondering just what her cunt smelled like. There was always a deliciously warm, female fragrance exuding from Jenna, and I often fantasized about discovering its hidden sources - her soft curves, dark orifices.
"Well, we talked about you this morning. Anyway, he'll tell you more about the Demerest changes. You could go up to his office now. I'm pretty sure he's free." she said, looking me straight in the eye.
She looked at her watch. "I should really get going. By the way, that's a nice suit. Fits kind of funny in the front, though." she said, suppressing a smile.
She strode to the door and damned if my eyes didn't follow her as she left. Then I looked down and saw that the contour of my semi-erect penis was showing. I returned to my desk and, with my head in my hands, broke down. Thank God she had left before then. A twisted mix of emotions - indignity, rage, and long-repressed sexual longing welled up and battled for dominance. But, through sheer will, I collected myself, and my thoughts turned to reprisal.
I walked down the carpeted hallway and stopped at Vivian's desk.
"Grant's expecting me." I said. My hands were clammy and my jaw was clenching with anxiety.
"Go right in, Mr Byron." she said, and I pushed open the heavy oak door.
"Tim! Have a seat. Did Jenna tell you about the tweeks to the Demerest account? We want to run them past you first, of course. Have a drink? It's four o'clock. I'm having one." and, with that, Simon poured scotch from a decanter.
"Sure. I'll have one with you." I said. I needed it, really, to calm myself. I sank into one of the leather armchairs that faced the desk.
"Ice?"
"Just a couple of pieces."
Grant came forward with the drinks and sat in the chair beside me.
"Bob Demerest has been hinting at a fatter bottom line ."Grant said as he settled in, swirling his drink.
"You've done good work with him, Timothy. No question. Solid work. But now he's looking for capital. He's investing in condos in Florida. In Naples. It's a good move, and I told him so. He wants to crank up his returns here, though. I don't have to remind you that Ed Ralston is vying for his business, and I'm not about to just give it up."
I heard the door open, and I stiffened. Clark rose from his seat.
"Jen. Come on in. Just talking to Tim about the account. You don't like scotch, as I recall. Bourbon?"
Jenna nestled into the remaining chair and crossed her legs.
""A mineral water would be nice. A good vodka would be nice, too, but you don't stock it." she said. Grant brought a pelligrino from the small fridge.
"that can be fixed. what's your pleasure?"
"Grey Goose ."
"Consider it done. Come by tomorrow, and we'll drink to it. Now," Grant continued, leaning on the edge of his desk and looking from one to the other of us. "Let's talk Demerest. Jen, tell Tim what you have in mind."
I looked over to the whore and tried my best to convey my loathing for her. She held my gaze for a second, recrossed her legs, and began.
"Putting him more heavily into healthcare - say, moving three mil into Genentech...it's going places. I've done the research. He should have the money he's looking for in the first quarter of next year. That, by the way, is when he wants it."
"It's good analysis, Timothy. I had Randy go over it. What do you think.?" Grant said, turning to me.
"Sounds to me like it's already done. If that's what you want..."
"I'd like it if we were all on the same page here, Tim. You're sounding a bit defensive." Grant said. He seemed irritated, and I took his words, especially in the presence of Princess Bitch, as a slap in the face. He was dressing me down, and I knew she was loving every bit of it.
"I can send over the data, Tim." Jenna said, sounding very sure of herself.
"Sure. Sure." I said, not sure of what I was saying. I looked at her, but my gaze dropped. What the hell. I was whipped, and I was whipped by her. I felt emotion rise up in me, and thought I might be dangerously close to losing it as I had in my office earlier. Clark seemed to notice.
"You all right, Tim?"
"It's nothing." I said. "Indigestion, I think."
I bit my tongue in an effort to steel myself. Jenna was looking at me as she sipped her water.
'That's right, twat. You won', I thought, pursing my lips tightly so they wouldn't tremble. She continued looking at me while Clark was on the phone with Randy, our chief analyst. Her steady gaze discomforted me, and I could feel my insides squirming.
Grant hung up the phone.
"Well, I guess that's it. Tim, why don't you review Jenna's data, and we can meet again tomorrow. I'm looking forward to your weighing in on this."
We both got up to go, and I was at the door.
"Jenna, stick around for a minute, will you?" Grant said.
Jenna caught my eye as I opened the door. She answered Grant, but she was looking - and smiling - straight at me.
"Sure, Grant." she said, and turned her back to me.
I fumed my way back to my office. Jesus, I felt like the floor had disappeared from under me. Suddenly, my status in the company seemed uncertain, at the very least. Oh, I'd keep my position, but I could see clearly that I was no longer Grant's go-to guy for the larger accounts.
'All because of that filthy bitch!' I muttered to myself as I made my way down the hall.
The next morning there was a note from Grant in my inbox.
Morning, Tim.
Jenna had the idea of all of us meeting at her apartment after work. She's ordering some catered hors' d'ouervres. We'll get a few bottles of red, and mull things over. Her place at seven.
Regards,
Grant
Sure, why not? As if I were important to this so-called meeting. Hey, Grant. Why don't I just stay outside and wax all of your cars while you have your talk. Fuck! Well, I couldn't not go. But the idea of accepting her hospitality really galled me. What could I do, though?
Later, I thought of something. I'd bring the wine. I'd offer to do it. Then, I would bring bottles of the finest premier cru bourdeaux I could get my hands on. I would steal the show!
I left work at five, and went directly to to Marcel's, a purveyor of fine wines. I came away with six bottles of Chateau Margaux, '95. They wrapped them in colored tissue paper, and boxed them up very nicely.
When I arrived at Jenna's place, I placed the box on the coffee table in the great room. Everyone else had already got there. Jenna removed a bottle and examined it appreciatively.
