CHAPTER 1
Stocky and dressed decidedly behind fashion, Felicity Lott handed the CEO the file and said, "You wanted our best employee for the job. Well here she is, the only downside being age."
Gavin Stone scowled, making a face threatening to dogs, infants, little old ladies and executives on the mat facing abrupt termination. It even made Felicity, head of HR and known as The Bitch, feel uncomfortable.
"An old cow will be useless, no energy and focused on her retirement package. Anyway Felicity I was expecting a male, and you knew that."
"Oh so you did Gavin, more or less."
"More of less?"
"Your exact words were, 'Find me the best man for the job and don't screw up'
"Correct."
"Well I fed into the computer the personal files of my pick of the top fifty people on our payroll capable of performing the role to your complete satisfaction. I then assessed the top five but one name was so clearly out front that I accepted the best man for the job was a woman, aged twenty-seven."
"What? She'll be still wet behind the ears. Who came in second?"
"Philip Twain."
"Yeah, could have picked him myself except he often fails to finish. Who's next?"
"Roland Jones."
"No, being so close to Linda he'll end up seducing her. Next."
"Allen Pankhurst."
"He's divorcing his wife so his mind won't be on the job. Next."
"Cyril Owens.
"That creep. He's gay."
"That's discriminatory and ignores the fact he's a master salesman."
"Shut up Felicity. Keep you mind on your job. If I want a lecturer I'll listen to Linda. Next."
"That's the top five Gavin. As you go down the list the cracks in their suitability become crevices."
"Fuck."
"Yes sir. Shall I undress or do you wish to do that?"
"Felicity," Gavin roared. "I dislike your warped sense of humor. Bring her to me."
"Yes sir."
* * *
The last-on recruit in the legal and documentation department of the corporation that exported the military field kitchens and surgical theatres it produced to fourteen countries was Rhona Paxton. The somewhat feisty short-cropped blonde with almost iridescent cobalt blue eyes was in a dangerous mood that morning.
The reason for that began the previous night when the guy she was living with mounted her, as usual, after pulling her on to her back. He liked to fuck missionary. Rhona preferred doggy and rarely got her choice. Simon entered her and began plugging away. And that's exactly what it felt like, being plugged. There was no communication, no touching and stroking. Simon liked to whistle while he worked and as soon as he creamed somewhere up Rhona he rolled off on to his feet and went to the bathroom where he farted loudly. She'd reached the stage where she was blocking her ears. Simon never stayed on the job until he got her off. She had to do that with her fingers.
Simon arrived back at the bedside and asked, "What are you doing?"
"You always ask me that. I'm ending the job you half-finished."
"God you are crude."
"I am not."
"You are so."
That was where it usually stopped. But last night Rhona pulled her trigger.
"You asshole, you might be a top attorney but you know fuck-all about women."
"And that's all I need to know."
"You are absolutely boring in bed. You have no clues about seduction."
"Well if you were tighter in the cunt you'd get off before I did and we wouldn't have this problem. You are the problem."
Rhona fumed, "No, we have a problem and should get it sorted,"
"You stupid, emotional bitch. Get a life. I'm off to the spare room. I expect an apology at breakfast."
She spat, "Goodnight asshole."
There was no reply so she had the obligatory cry about being unhappy. When she was sure he was asleep she packed and did the obligatory thing: she went home to mother.
Her father Richard opened the door. "Another stuffed up affair?"
"Yes."
"It might help if you backed off a bit and became less demanding. Remember darling, you are dealing with men rather than intelligent, articulate and multi-tasking women."
"Get fucked dad."
He chuckled and said that was not a bad idea.
Mira came running out in her old-fashion nightdress and cried, "Oh Rhona, my darling. Come let me hug you."
They both cried and both went to the kitchen for coffee and a midnight sandwich.
Next morning Rhona watched Richard leave for work. She went up to the apartment, packed all her remaining possessions, tipped out all his drawers in the bedroom on to the floor and mixed them into one big heap and wrote in lipstick on the mirror, 'Bye-bye asshole'.
She felt a whole lot better. Rhona called up a taxi SUV and it carried the whole lot home in one trip. The cabbie helped her take everything to her bedroom and received a very generous tip and stayed for coffee with Rhona and her mom. He then took Rhona to work where she found an urgent message to call Felicity Lott.
"You're late, where have you been?"
Adopting her most cutting tone Rhona said, "Out."
"Your phone was switched off."
The answer was a cold yes.
"That's against company rules for a person in your position."
"For god's sake, I know that. What do you want?"
Felicity's temperature soared but then she remembered this was the Rhona that fitted the job that awaited her like a glove.
"A little more respect would be appreciated."
Rhona purred, "Don't you mean politeness? Respect has to be earned."
God she was good, Felicity thought, although still bristling. "Go to the elevators immediately and wait for me. The boss wants to see you."
"Yes your ladyship. Does he want me to replace you?"
"Now look her Rhona..."
"You ploughed into me without even a friendly good morning, beginning with an interrogation. You are only getting what you deserve."
