Theres Fuck All Left To Do

What do you do when you've done everything that you've set out to do in your life? That's the question that I've been asking myself for some time now; what to do when there's fuck all left to do?

I'm 35 and I'm bored; work bores me now that there's no challenge for me. I'm bored with my corner office with Rachel, my very decorative and super-efficient Personal Assistant, actually I'm not bored with her, she screens all calls to keep me at arm's length from personal involvements with young ladies that I've had fleeting contact with, and organizes my schedule so that I don't have to think about what I have to do next.

Rachel made it very clear when she first started work with me that our relationship was strictly professional. I tested her resolve early on and found her to be unwavering, she flirts at times, when appropriate, but that's as far as it ever went.

Without her I would be lost, but it's because of her that work bores me, I have nothing to do. It is she who, when I have to attend a meeting, has all the information that I need ready for me with the important stuff tagged so that I could find it readily. It was she who, if I had to deliver a speech, would prepare a draft with all the relevant information and sit with me while I went through it and made the few changes necessary and rehearsed the delivery. She offered advice and criticism where necessary and ensured that my prompt cards where in order so that I could deliver it smoothly. If the audience was receptive to humour, it contained humour, if it was a serious matter, so was the speech. I have commented on a number of occasions that I don't know why I bother coming to work because she can do my job so much better than I can. She just laughs it off as me being silly again.

My private life bores me. No more Everests to climb. I have my pilot's licence and my own plane, but that bores me. I have an offshore powerboat that travels at phenomenal speeds and sucks fuel through its supercharged engines at an obscene rate, but that bores me.

I have tried BASE jumping, but that now bores me, I have tried motor racing, both cars and motorcycles, and my trophy cupboard is full of trophies, but this bores me. I have a super-maxi yacht and have competed in the major ocean classics, the Admiral's Cup, the Sydney to Hobart, and while I try to help with the actual sailing I find that I'm not allowed, consequently this bores me.

My love life is as varied as it is prolific, I just have to smile at a girl in a bar and she throws herself at me, I don't have to try, it just happens. Take for instance the girl that just walked in, I'm almost willing to bet major body parts on her gracing my bed tonight. I took some time to assess her potential and reached the decision that it was worth expending the little effort necessary to get her into my bed. From where I stood her figure was almost exposed, there was enough visible flesh to attract my attention but not that much that she looked easy.

I got off my stool and sauntered casually over to her. Ignoring her I spoke to the bar attendant. "Another single malt and give the lady another of what she's drinking."

"Fuck off." Her voice was little more than a whisper.

"Excuse me, what did you just say?" This was a first.

"I said fuck off. Now what part of fuck off don't you understand?"

"I don't understand all of it. Here I am, on my own and here you are, also on your own. Now I thought to myself why don't I be sociable and buy you a drink. Is that such a bad thing?"

"I'm alone because I want to be alone, end of story. Now if you want to be kind and sociable you can just fuck off and leave me alone."

"But. . ." That was all I managed to stammer before she jumped down my throat.

"No buts, are hard of hearing or just plain insensitive? I'll tell you one last time, fuck off and leave me alone."

I took the hint and retired to my old stool. I couldn't understand her anger and her not wanting me to buy her a drink. I finished my drink and signalled to the bar attendant. "Another of these and when she orders another don't take any money from her, I'll cover it."

"Yes sir." He poured my malt and gave me change. I slipped him a generous tip, swallowed my drink and left.

I walked past Rachel the next day without my usual greeting and plonked myself behind my desk. I was still smarting from last night's rejection and rejection was something that I've had little experience with. For the first time in living memory I was the dumpee, not the dumper, and I was having a problem coming to terms with it.

I had just opened my attaché case and taken out some papers when Rachel came in and sat down. "You're not in a very good mood this morning, don't tell me that she wouldn't put out."

Was she psychic or what? "Whatever gave you that impression?"

"For starters you didn't come up with your usual witty remarks about whether I got any last night which is usually a signal that you did. Secondly you sat down and took papers out of your case, something that you've never done before. I always have to come in and give you the necessary papers for the day ahead, this could only mean that you had time on your hands last night and actually looked at today's schedule."

"All right smarty, can you go over what I have written and get the figures that I need and fill in the blanks. That should keep you busy." She reached over the desk and picked up the papers giving me an eyeful of tit in the process and her exaggerated hip swaying as she left was also part of the flirting that went on between us. She could be a real prick tease when she wanted to be and usually I appreciated the distraction but after last night it only helped to highlight the fact that I had missed out.

Half an hour later she came in with my completed paperwork. "You've surprised me, I didn't have to change any of what you had written, maybe you should get dumped more often."

She might just have something there. Having spare time on my hands because I wasn't fucking some obliging bimbo had left me with nothing to do so I decided to do the work myself, and that has added something of a challenge to my job, something that was missing when I had merely to ask and the work was done for me.

The rest of the day passed quickly, I had the board meeting to attend and it went as normal except that I had a certain amount of pride when I was congratulated on my report, given that it was probably the first and only time that I had prepared it myself. I felt good about myself and had almost forgotten about the previous night.

I went to the same bar on my way home. I told myself that it wasn't because I hoped to bump into her again, but I lied. I had been there for something like half an hour when she came in. My heart missed a beat and I found myself holding my breath as she approached. I wasn't too sure about her expression but I was hoping that she would at least speak to me.

She stopped beside me, standing right next to my seat. Her hand slammed down onto the bar and there was money in it. "Here's your fucking money! I told you last night that I didn't want to accept a drink from you but you didn't listen so I came here to give it back to you. Now fuck off and leave me alone!" She turned and headed for the door.

"Wait." Her reaction was to raise her right hand with her second finger extended, a gesture of finality. I was being dismissed, again.

For the second night I arrived home early, totally devastated by this turn of events. I couldn't remember the last time, if ever, I had been treated like this by a woman other than my mother. I took out my frustrations on work, this could become a habit unless I did something about it.

Rachel looked up as I walked into the office. She was just about to say something. "Don't even think about it." I took a folder from my case and dropped it on her desk. "Will you go over this for me, I have a meeting with the old man at 10 and I want to be sure it's right." She looked at me with a puzzled expression, two days in a row I had actually done something without being prompted, amazing.

Several minutes later she came in and placed my coffee in front of me and sat down "I'm impressed, you did this all by yourself?"

"Yes, you find that so hard to believe?"

"Well now that you mention it, yes I do. What has brought on this sudden burst of productivity?" She caught the glance that I threw at her. "Oh, another knock back, was it the same woman?"

"Yes if you must know. The other night I paid for her drink, she didn't know that I had done it until she ordered and was told it had been paid for, I had already left by then, so last night she came in and slammed the money down in front of me and stormed out. To make matters worse she gave me the bird as she left. I just sat there with my mouth open looking like a loser."

That night she was there before me so I slipped onto the stool beside her. "Hi."

She glanced, actually she glared, at me and slid off her stool, her hand reaching for her purse. My hand rattle snaked its way across the space between us and grabbed her wrist.

"Let go of me your hurting me!"

"I'll let you go when you tell me what your problem is. All I was trying to do was to politely ask you to join me in a drink, no strings attached, it was just that you looked like you needed the company." Her attitude softened a little and she stopped trying to pull her hand out of my grasp.

"I'm sorry, I guess that I have over-reacted a little."

"A little, try a lot." A faint flicker of a smile. "Look, can we start again? What would you like to drink?"

"All right, I'll have white rum, Jamaican if possible, on ice, mineral water with a slice of lemon."

"That's an unusual drink for a girl."

"I can't explain it, it's just that I like it." The drinks arrived, my single malt and her rum and we both sipped. "Would you like a sip?" She said, moving her glass toward me.

"Sure, I'm up for anything." I took a sip, it wasn't bad, in fact I could get to like it. "Nice, I can see why you like it." The more she relaxed the more she became attractive to me. Her eyes were the centrepiece of very nice face, they were a clear grey/blue colour, her lashes actually looked natural, and if they were false they were good false. Her makeup was understated, it almost didn't exist, her lips a pale colour with a gloss over it that looked as if she had just licked them.

When my attention was eventually drawn lower it was as if everything about her appearance was understated. Her clothes were tailored and fitted her perfectly, emphasising in a non-obvious way her figure. Below her black skirt there emerged two black stocking clad legs and finally her black, mid-heeled shoes.

"Have you finished your inspection?"

"No. I've skim read your perfection and now I need to examine it in more detail. It could take some time. Was I that obvious?" It was a line that I'd used before.

"Well yes. How would you feel if I was to ogle you like you have just done to me?"

"You mean to say you haven't?" I knew that she had been checking me out from the time I walked through the door. "Actually I wouldn't mind it if you did, would you like me to stand up and turn around so that you can get a better look."

"You're sure of yourself aren't you?"

"Would you be surprised if I told you I'm not. Oh I know that I put on this front of self assurance but it is wafer thin, believe me. Beneath this urbane exterior lives a mass of insecurity." It was a glib statement but now that I think about it there's a certain amount of truth to it. For someone who has been used to getting his own way and having his every whim catered for since he was a little boy, my boredom has been caused by the lack of something substantial in my life. Everything about it is superficial, a façade, scratch beneath the surface and there's nothing, a Hollywood film set on legs.

My family was wealthy, old money wealthy, they lived in a large house that had started as a large house and got larger as the money rolled in. I was raised more or less by servants; a Nanny took care of my early childhood making sure that I had everything I needed and that my parents were too pre-occupied to give, and this included love.

I was devastated when I was sent to a boarding school and found out, when I came home for my first holidays, that she had been dispensed with. If I had thought about it at the time I would probably have realised that was when my feelings towards my parents had changed from indifference to hate.

School was unspectacular in the academic context but I was popular with my friends and good at sport. I graduated high school with unspectacular results that meant that I only just managed to scrape into university and bumble my way through a generalist degree that was of little use in my future career.

Life after university was a series of minor misdemeanours that required financial contributions from my parents to keep me out of prison. As a result of which I was forced to go to work for my father. I was given a junior executive position that required little work input from me, and provided with an assistant to do that work.

I was allowed enough money that I was able to indulge in whatever took my fancy, or whoever took my fancy, without dipping into my generous salary. When I decided to move out of the ancestral manor I was given a penthouse apartment, fully furnished, in one of the more prestigious apartment buildings in town. I had expressed the desire to own a Ferrari and one magically appeared.

There were never any questions asked about my private life and when I decided to get married nothing was said about my choice. The marriage, as it turned out, was a disaster, she, my wife was shallower than I was, always immaculately dressed, always to be seen at the right places, always with a smile on her face as if everything was perfect in this world that we inhabited. Nothing was as it seemed and she decamped with her tennis coach and my parents stepped in. They sent me off on vacation to the other side of the world while the legal pit-bulls tore her apart, leaving her with nothing. The tennis coach dumped her when he discovered that the millions that she had told him she was entitled to had vanished in a puff of legal smoke. I didn't look on this as a failure on my part because I was glad to see the end of her.

Since then I have had an aversion to long term commitment, choosing instead to populate my life with uncomplicated short-term encounters. If I was to analyse this situation I would realise that I was scared, scared of an involvement that had the potential to hurt me. And that leaves me here and now. "No. I'm not sure at all." I was now more serious that I can remember ever being. I was about to lower my guard. "For me to be sure I would have to look further ahead than tomorrow. I live in a carpe diem world, I live for the day and hang the consequences. It's how I've always lived and it sucks big time. If I could find something that would motivate me to change, then I would."

"I know what you mean, I have found that my life has no meaning, no purpose. My father used to tell me, 'If you can't change it don't sweat it.' What he meant by that was that I shouldn't waste my time worrying over things that I can't change and to concentrate on those things that I can. I had placed all my eggs in one particular basket and I've recently discovered that this basket was rotten and I have no eggs left."

"When you came in the other night you looked like a bear with a sore head, as if the world had just kicked the shit out of you and you hated it. If you were living by your father's philosophy you wouldn't have been so hurt."

"I hadn't had time to do anything about it. I'd just been dumped by the man that I was in love with and who had promised me the world. Some fucking promise, when it came time for his promises to be realised I was flicked. He never cared for me, all I was to him was a convenient place for him to shove his cock when he felt like it. Give me time and I'll come up with a solution but the other night I was so down on men that I took it all out on you, now I feel awful about that, you don't seem to be as much of a shit as he was."

"I don't know about that, I've done some pretty shitty things in the past, things that I'm not proud of now but that at the time meant little."

"Have you changed?"

"Yes, I do believe that I'm in the process of change. It seems strange but this morning, for the second day running, I was feeling good about a report that I actually wrote myself. Normally my PA would write it for me and I would only have to learn what was in it so that I could talk on it as if I'd written it myself. Maybe if I actually did the work myself I would feel happier about my life. I have you to thank for that."

"Me?"

"Yes you. If you had accepted my invitation and joined me in a drink that first night, and if you'd succumbed to my charms, we might have ended up in bed and we might have had sex. Then the next morning we would have gone our separate ways and that would have been the end of it. But no, you jumped down my throat in a way that had never happened to me before and I was shocked and hurt more than I have ever been hurt. Because of that I went home and actually did some work type work just to get my mind off you telling me to fuck off."

We talked for a while longer and she told me that she had to get home. I offered to drive her but she declined, choosing instead to take a cab. It wasn't until after she had left that I realised that I didn't know who she was, where she lived, or anything about her other than the little she had told me, and we hadn't made any arrangements to see each other again.

The next two nights saw me at the bar waiting for her and then, when she hadn't made her appearance, leaving and going home, alone, and working until around 11.00 before hitting the sack and sleeping until my alarm jolted me awake at 7.30. After a shit, shower, shampoo and shave and some proper breakfast I breezed past an astonished Rachel into my office, early.

"What's going on with you? Did you shit the bed or something?"

"No, I've turned over a new leaf and I'm going to make an effort to do the job for which I'm being paid obscene amounts of money."

"It must have been a pretty big leaf. Not that I'm complaining mind you, I've been having an easy time of it with you doing all the work, and don't you even think about reducing my salary."

"The thought never entered my head. What's on the agenda today?"

"You've got that meeting at 10.00 with those IT geeks about the new system that they want to sell us. The information is in your in tray."

"I've had a look at it and I'm not so sure that it's what we want."

"I agree with you. There has to be a more appropriate system available, if not we can always get one custom built."

"Okay, coffee first, then we'll sit down and go through this in detail before they get here."

By the time the IT guys had arrived Rachel and I had gone through their proposal and made a list of our concerns. "With an office this size we need to be sure that we have adequate server capacity, I'm not convinced that your proposal has that. I don't want to buy a system that will run out of capacity too quickly. The same goes for the back-up system, I would prefer to have external hard drives that can be expanded as necessary rather than back-up within the system. I would also prefer the back-up system to be housed in a secure, fire-proof and burglar proof environment, your system does not provide that. I think that you should go back to the drawing board and come up with a better proposal if you want our business, and don't just pick stuff that you have in stock and design a system around that."

"Wow! You really told them."

"Yeah, and now I have to go and tell my father that the system and provider that he has chosen didn't come up with the goods. Wish me luck."