Nobody sitting around the boardroom table had a clue I was pantiless. Dressed in my Gucci Navy suit I was the image of conservatism. Beneath the knee-length skirt I was naked from the top of my stockings to my waist.
Seven of the firm's top executives sat around the long oak table. R.W. Morgan, Chairman of the Board sitting at the head and Gove Merritt, the C.E.O., seated on his right.
I was the sole female attending the meeting other than Kathy Gardner, Merritt's note taking secretary. Being the head of Public Relations my presence was required.
Number one on the agenda of New Business was the retirement party for R. J. Riddle, the firm's founder.
R.J. had started the business as a fledgling talent agency catering to the local theatrical arts community and it had bloomed into one of the nations foremost leading sources new faces.
I had come up through the ranks. R.J. himself had recruited me in the early days to come and work for him. I was a run of the mill actor doing mostly television commercial work.
Being the granddaughter of a Cherokee Indian I presented a stunning appearance. Standing five foot, seven inches with lustrous Raven black hair cascading to the small of my back I offered a stunning example of Aboriginal beauty.
It was no wonder R.J. took me as his lover for the first five years of my employment with the firm. Sharing R.J.'s bed sky-rocketed my career in the agency.
Within two years I was head of west coast operations and in less than year I was back in New York as Head of Public Relations.
The Public Relations director was like the Secretary of State to the President of the U.S. I made many of the day-to-day decisions in the operation of the multi-million dollar empire.
On a typical day I would sign-off six figure transactions and hire or fire upper level management personal as required. I reported directly to the Chairman of the Board.
"Leslie has proposed a rather unique suggestion for R.J.'s farewell party." Morgan began. "It would be held at the Hamilton Club and our lovely Public Relations Director would be the entertainment."
The men around the table looked confused, uncertain what Morgan had just announced meant.
"Ms. Taylor has proposed that each of us be allowed to invite one guest and she will offer her impeccable body as the evening's prize, the winner being determined by an auction process. All funds would be donated to the R. J. Riddle Foundation with a tax receipt issued."
There was a busy murmur around the table as the group of very surprised executives discussed the surprise announcement.
"I turn the table over to Leslie for questions." Morgan ruled.
Rodger English Head of Legal chimed in first.
"Where will the successful bidder get to enjoy your body?" he asked.
On a specially set up bed in the middle of the Men's smoking room." I answered.
"So the others will watch?" Rodger continued.
"They shall see everything from beginning to end." I confirmed.
"Will condoms be necessary?" George Janssen from Advertising asked.
"I shall not be practicing birth control, it is the decision of my partner whether he wishes his seed deposited in my vulnerable womb."
My plan was much more complex than my eager associates suspected. They thought I was auctioning off my booty as a jester of appreciation of R. J. Riddle's accomplishments. This was partially true but I had a secret motive.
At thirty-two I was resolved to pursue my career and forgo marriage for the time being. Yet I had a strong desire to produce a child, someone to leave behind to continue my existence in the future. I knew my biological clock was ticking and the risks to pregnancy multiplied as years past.
I had lovers of course but nobody noteworthy. I had used acquaintances for mutual gratification always practicing safe-sex.
I wanted to become pregnant and for my stud to know he was breeding me. My conception was to be a celebrated event.
Another buzz circled the table as my excited colleagues discussed my offer to be impregnated.
