Six foot four inches and two hundred pounds. That's what Westin had measured in at when he left the gym locker room that morning. He was thirty-three years old, and had recently taken an interest in how much of an effect gravity has on him. By this evening he would only measure six foot three and a half inches.
Statistics like this weighed heavily on his mind. He had graduated Stanford with a B.S. in statistics, and a minor in finance. Statistics were always in his head. It wasn't a curse, more of a blessing. He was a major up and comer at the firm. As a broker, several of the portfolios he managed were among the most profitable in the company. All of his portfolios owed at least 30% of their value to his shrewd statistical mind, and last year the firm's absolute largest account had asked specifically to be put under his management.
The account move had provided him with a partnership. Which he had paid for by selling a good portion of his own personal portfolio, but the raise he had gleaned from the situation was worth it. He had gone from a good one hundred and fifty thousand a year, to a stunning six hundred thousand a year as well as a sizeable bonus based on his account's performance.
He had sat on the first year's bonus of one million just to see seven digits in his bank account. This last year though when his second bonus arrived he was perplexed. The job had taken a toll on his health. His fingernails were gnawed into nubs, he ground his teeth day and night, and he didn't have the stamina to run up two flights of stairs.
The gym had been his first attempt. He thought the exertion would let him dump off the stress. It hadn't worked. He tried dating, but the women either couldn't hold his interest, or they couldn't keep up with him intellectually.
One sleepless night, he found himself staring at a premium cable channel show about sex in reality. It showed a couple it dubbed as "Goths"; the man was pouring hot wax on his woman, and she was enjoying it. Her mouth was open in a silent scream of pleasure, and her body arching when the hot liquid splattered her skin. Westin found himself with a raging hard on almost at once, and as soon as the show completed he pulled his laptop out and pursued their actions on the Internet. His love affair with Bondage and S&M was immediate. He had to tell his secretary to cancel all of his meetings the following day so he could catnap in his office. The fetish sites had kept him up until the sun came up.
He started ordering bondage gear two days later. Westin found that he could play with the leather and the buckles and locks for hours. The smell was intoxicating, and the feel was pure pleasure. He needed a subject though; it was rather empty without a subject.
This was about two months ago, and recently his boss Senior partner Barry J. Roberts, had entered his office with a stern yet distressing look on his face. Barry was a rotund man in his late fifties; he took Westin's career seriously and had acted very protective of the younger man's future.
"Wes, your bonus accounts are untouched." Barry challenged. "I guess that means you disapprove." Westin muttered.
"You have to do something with the money Wes, two years worth of bonus money is serious cash, do you have any ideas?" The big man said.
"None at all to be honest I enjoy knowing I have the money too much to spend it." Westin remarked coolly.
"That's no good Wes, you cant just leave the money to accumulate, it's not in your best interest, and it's not in the firm's either can you imagine if a client found out you refuse to invest your own money? They'd take it as a sign from out premiere broker that the market wasn't worth it."
Westin rolled this around his head for a second.... the boss had a good point. "Suggestions Barry?"
Barry stood tall for a moment. "You can't go to stocks. I know you and if you put that kind of money into the market there's no way you would be able to leave it alone."
"Okay...."
"I think you should go with real estate, get a bunch of rental properties or a condo complex or something."
"Sounds fine. I can let the housing market and the renters grow the money for me." Westin was still cold, his mind was sure that he could do it, but his heart wasn't into it at all. The money was nice, and the balances were reassuring. As long as the money was there it was money that had been off his mind.
"Just get on it please before it embarrasses the firm." Barry ordered before he turned and left the office without comment.
That conversation had set the house of cards that was his life tumbling without any sort of warning at all. Westin had wandered down two floors from the thirty first floor, where his office was to the companies mortgage brokerage. He had fully intended to take his lunch by inviting the junior partner in mortgage to eat and discuss the options available to him.
He never made it to the man's office though. Half way through the immense cubicle farm on the twenty ninth floor, he had stopped dead in his tracks. She was stunning. He had neither been looking at anyone, or expecting to see anyone in the cubicles, but his eyes had defied him and sought her out. She was not heart stopping, or drop dead sexy. She was rather young, perhaps twenty-five, and not in very good shape. He knew when she stood up that she would have the pear shaped body so typical of women in America. He could see that she was wearing a tweed business skirt and jacket with a pale blue blouse underneath. He wanted to see her real underclothes, wanted to see her ass, which he knew, had to be round and squashy. But her physical attributes were not what were drawing him in. Her actions were. She never looked up. Her eyes were hesitant and wary. In a mortgage sales position she would rely on cold calling to make her sales, but she didn't. Instead she worked furiously on the few contracts sitting on her desk. She behaved in a timid sheepish manner that he could not get enough of. The plastic nameplate on her cubicle wall read "Christine March"
Apparently he had lost track of time, an executive management type was now standing in front of him. The man was unknown to Westin, and his demeanor reeked of kiss ass.
"Sir may I be of some assistance?" The offending pinstripe suit had barked.
"No, I have found the loan officer I was looking for thank you."
"Sir you've been standing there for quite a while perhaps a cup of coffee in my office, and I can help you with whatever you need." The man's voice was nasal and grated the sides of Westins ears each time he spoke.
"Perhaps I have already found the officer I am searching for, thank you." His tone was complete; leaving no interpretation save that he was done dealing with the peon. The man shrank like a wilting flower and disappeared into the maze of cubicles.
Astonishingly this had awoken Christine March from her dream trance of a workday. The woman had snapped her head upward, but her eyes remained in the cubicle.
She's examining the room with her peripheral vision...afraid to make eye contact
Westin was now fully engaged in the woman. A new idea formed in his head and he stalked over to her cubicle. Using the arrogance of executive power he sat in one of the two uncomfortable chairs by her modular desk. Finally she looked at him. Her eyes were green, and the red hair she kept at neck length framed her face defensively.
"Sir, may I help you?" She almost squeaked but the words settled into a sweet tone mid sentence as she grabbed control of her voice. The "Sir" had almost shot out of her mouth.... He loved every syllable. Trying to control his own thoughts into coherence he spoke.
"I need a new home. Therefore I need a new home loan. I would like approval to purchase a home in the one and a half million range; I will be putting one third down. Thus I will need a loan of one million." He commanded, rapidly spilling out the details. She paled a bit. He noted quickly that it was not the numbers, but the interaction that caused it.
"Maybe one of the more experienced people would be better suited sir?" This time all words were fluid, and there was even a bit of hope he would see her logic in the voice.
"Nonsense, Ms March I walked through this office and you are the only one dutifully doing their job while everyone else gabs on the phone." He knew it was a ludicrous, the phone was how these people made money, but once again found himself using his station in the company to get his way. It was a long ten or fifteen seconds before she slightly nodded and acquiesced to his comments.
"Of course sir, I will assist you in getting the funds." Christine March stammered losing her voice again.
"Excellent I will call personnel and have them make my information available to you. Assess the situation, and call my secretary in the morning to schedule a meeting to go over it with me. Here the direct extension to her desk, and if you need any directions to the office she'll provide them."
He scribed a four-digit extension on her post it note pad, and stood. With out another word or look he walked away. As he moved to the elevator he took off his suit jacket and folded it on his forearms in front of him to conceal his erection.
He spent the evening imagining her naked ass and back. When he woke to the alarm he rode a strong wave of energy through his morning routine and to the office. At nine o five his secretary advised him that Ms March had called and would like to meet with him at eleven thirty. He gave his agreement to the speakerphone, and rolled his eyes into the back of his head. She had called immediately when the office opened for the day, and obviously had her things together. His erection returned. He took care of it in his washroom, and made phone calls to clients until eleven thirty.
Promptly at eleven thirty his secretary opened the door and announced "Ms March and Mr. Rivisi to see you."
Mr. Rivisi?? Who the hell was this?
The nasally pinstriped suck up strolled in to the office with Ms March at his heels.
That figures, this jackass obviously enjoys touting his position over her, and I managed to need the girl who works for him.
His thoughts got venomous and he spoke slowly and purposefully. "Ms March did my secretary not provide you good information on the location of my office." . "I figured as Ms March's supervisor I should attend to ensure your satisfaction." The jackass spoke in her place. Westin did not like it and felt the hairs on his neck rising
