Ideal Suburbia Ch 17

This is the final entry in a series of stories that are a sort of sequel to two text-adventure games. Each installment is a complete story on its own, but for a full understanding, the reader may want to start with Chapter 1.

If you have read all the story, thanks so much for your time and appreciation. I hope this last chapter is a fitting topper.

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I looked at the marketing brochure mock-up in my hands. It was as perfect as I could make it. Printed on the highest quality stock, filled with beautiful illustrations, and selling a perfect product, I expected it to do its job admirably. It was time to publicly announce the founding of the Baker's Fields Golf and Country Club, the only private golf and athletic club on the entire west side of the city. The time had come to start selling the ultra-exclusive Founder's Memberships which would fund the next phase of development.

That meant it was time for other major changes.

I would have to quit my excellent, well-paying job. So far, I had kept the development project out of the public eye, and burnt the candle at both ends is I could still perform to or above expectations at CKE Materials. But my name and face were right there in the brochure as Managing Director. And once I buckled down to selling Founding Memberships, then Equity Memberships, then Golf Memberships, and eventually Social, Fitness, and other memberships, I would no longer have time for both endeavors. And I did not want my boss to hear about my departure from anyone other than me.

Not only was this going to be an expensive move for me, I had been making bank at CKE since they hired me, but I was very worried that my co-workers and especially my boss would see this as a betrayal. While my college training was in resort and leisure management, my knowledge of, and affection for, golf itself had been paid for entirely on the company dime.

The good opinion of the owner Cathy was very important to me. She had been a mentor to me. She had challenged me repeatedly, and I had learned for certain that I could rise to those and other challenges. She was a good boss to the whole company and was the object of fierce loyalty among her employees, including me. She was funny, and charismatic.

And she was smoking hot. Let's not forget that. Cathy was, to my calculation, the hottest woman I had met in my life whom I had never tried to make a move on; one of the hottest women I had met at all, for that matter.

She was gorgeous, charismatic, funny, bawdy, and an invaluable mentor, and I was about to piss her off. The worst of it was, I wasn't sure how much I was going to piss her off. I picked up my resignation letter from my office printer, signed it, and drew a deep breath.

I had called Cathy's assistant, Sean, and he had told me that she could see me in 15 minutes. That was 12 minutes previously. This was one meeting I was not going to be early for. I was never late for anything. I walked down the hall toward her office suite.

Sean barely looked up from his computer as I ambled in, as casually as I could manage, and just held up his hand. He punched the intercom and told her I was here. I heard her tell him to send me in, and he just thumbed me toward her office.

I let one last shiver of anxiety run through me before I opened her door. I banished all physical signs of my doubts as I walked through the door. It's a damned valuable talent in so many ways. "Hi Cathy," I said brightly as I closed the door behind me. "Thanks for seeing me on short notice."

"Nothing has gone wrong today," she replied, making me wince internally, "so I have plenty of time." She looked at me with a slow, speculative smile. "What hare-brained scheme have you pulled this time that you want to warn me about?"

"Um, I have some bad news and some good news," I said seriously as I approached her desk. "The bad news first," I continued, placing the resignation letter face up on her desk.

Raising an eyebrow, Cathy picked it up. Her face darkened at the first line, but she kept reading silently. The letter lead with my resignation, followed by fulsome thanks, the usual two-weeks notice, and an offer to delay my departure for longer if she felt it was necessary for the transition. I clutched my white club brochure in my hand like a life preserver.

"What. The Actual. Fuck?" asked Cathy, looking at me intently. I could tell she wan't done, so I remained silent. "I thought you were happy here. I know you have been wildly successful here. I'm guessing you haven't been hired away, or you wouldn't... couldn't offer this weird-ass notice period. Why are you bailing?"

"An entrepreneurial opportunity arose that I just could not let get away," I replied. "I've got a new project. It is located about three miles for my house... and about a mile from yours." With that, I laid the white folder on her desk.

Cathy is a very avid golfer. It was she who had insisted, and paid for, my learning to play golf. The largest frustration in her relatively charmed life, or the largest that I knew of, was that the best golf she could find was nearly an hour from her home and almost that far from her work. Her harping on that subject had been the germ of the entire country club idea.

Her eyes widened at the pastel illustration on the cover of the brochure, and I immediately saw that she understood why I had lead with the location. She flipped open the document and started reading closely. She did not smile, but that didn't bother me. I knew her. What made me feel relieved was how intently she was reading every word. She flipped the page, and saw the caption under my name and picture. That earned me a look and she said quietly, "So it really is YOUR baby..." I simply nodded and she resumed reading.

It felt like an eternity as she absorbed and analyzed every detail. When she reached the end, she stoped, then flipped back through the whole brochure again. She looked up at me sharply and demanded, "Where is my application form for one of these Founder's Memberships?"

I very nearly passed out in relief. "I must have forgotten to put one in. You are the first person outside my organization to see that," I replied with the barest of frowns.

"Bullshit," scoffed Cathy. "You left it out intentionally to make me ask for it. The last time you forgot something in a sales environment you were running a lemonade stand."

"It did seem like a good sales move," I admitted, "but mostly I wasn't sure how mad you were going to be, and I didn't want to make it worse."

"Oh, I'm mad, just not at you!" replied Cathy, unable to keep from thumbing through the brochure while she talked. "I'm usually only mad at employees I'm firing. When someone quits, that just means I either have something to fix, or they found a great opportunity like you have. I'm mad because replacing you will be a cast iron bitch."

"I'm really sorry."

"Don't be. I'm going to profit immensely in the long run from your departure," she said evenly, giving me her undivided attention for the first time since I dangled that brochure in front of her.

"Excuse me?" I asked, a little hurt.

"Welcome to being an entrepreneur. No asset is more important to me than my own time. Not even you, buster. This country club will save me hours a week in drive time that I will be able spend at work instead. And the location will improve my off-work quality of life, letting me productively spend even more time here. Keep that lesson in mind for yourself," Cathy explained calmly. The mentor was back.

"Why are still standing?" she snapped at me, and I sank into a chair at last as she punched the intercom. "Sean, see if Phil is in the building. If he is, tell him to get his ass in here stat, would you please? Then call Audrey and tell her that her dearest wish is coming true. Yes, tell her exactly that."

"We have a lot of planning to do to get you out of here so you can make sure that project opens on time."

Twelve days into my fourteen days notice, my transition was going smoothly at last. We had found a good (or at least good enough) person to take over each of my major accounts, and we had met with the clients together to hand things over. Audrey in Accounting had danced her jig of joy when she heard I would no longer be sending her unorthodox expense account forms featuring strip clubs. I was one hundred percent caught up on my paperwork. A woman from our east coast office had been promoted to my position at headquarters and would be arriving in a day or three. All I was wondering was how long they would want me to show her the ropes before Cathy let me go and I could throw myself into the club's constructions and sales full-time. I was projecting no more than ten days, but I was worried it would be longer. If I could have been sure that Cathy would take my departure as well as she had, I'd have never offered to stick around so long.

I was tidying up my desk at the end of the day, getting ready to head home and prepare to meet a few potential buyers of memberships late that evening. The candle was burning brightly at both ends indeed. Cathy called me and asked if I could swing by her office before I left. I told her that I'd be right there.

When I arrived, Sean was just leaving for the day himself. "She doesn't have anyone in there with her right now," he told me in passing. "Just knock before you go in, in case she is on the phone." I waved goodbye and Sean headed out with his little lunchbox.

I knocked on the door, waited for an invitation, and entered. Cathy was leaning agains the front of her desk as I entered. I paused a moment to close my eyes and gather myself, as I usually did when first seeing Cathy. She had an amazing ability to look utterly, stunningly, sexy in a conservative business suit. That day she was wearing a charcoal suit with subtle fuscia pinstripes. The skirt was showing a good three inches of leg above the knee, as opposed to her usual two (I always paid close attention to every detail of Cathy's appearance), and she had her beautifully shapely legs crossed as she lent against the desk. She wore a pink men's tie in a way that was somehow very feminine, and her suit jacket was delicately tailored to her every curve, showing off her every magnificent contour without ever appearing to pull tight anywhere.

"What's up?" I asked, approaching her. We had been sending a lot of time lately, working on my departure. It had been an awesome bonus.

"I have bad news, and an explanation," said Cathy seriously.

"Oh dear," I said easily, inwardly wondering how long she was going to make me honor my offer to stick around past the obligatory two weeks. I hesitated in my approach.

"As of 5...", began Cathy, looking at her watch, "27PM today, your employment at CKE materials is officially terminated. It's been a pleasure, usually, having you work here."

"What?" I asked, definitely confused but excited for all the added time in my schedule this meant for me. "I still owe you at least two days, plus however long I need to get Patrice up and running when she gets here. And..."

"Please," snorted Cathy. "You are good, but hardly indispensable. The last items we really needed you for, you finished up for Alec today. I am therefore running you out of the building early for several reasons."

She began ticking them off on her long, ruby-nailed fingers.

"One, you bouncing around this building without any prey to hunt anymore has everyone as nervous as a cup of hot coffee."

"Two," she went on, grabbing her by now well-thumbed brochure off her desk, "Time you are spending here is time not spent on your project. I saw that my check cleared yesterday, and I personally want you putting all your efforts into making sure my fucking country club is opened on time."

"And finally," said Cathy, her voice taking on a slightly different register as she straightened up from the desk, "I am finding it increasingly irritating that I can't make a pass at a man who is still in my employ."

And I had thought I was surprised and excited BEFORE she said that last. Now I was surprised, excited, and momentarily speechless. I stood there in the middle of the floor, unmoving.

Cathy smiled at me with what my mind only much later recognized as a hint of uncertainty, and walked around her desk to sit in her high-backed chair. She leaned back and placed one magnificent leg on the desk, then slowly lifted her other one to cross atop the first. The soles of her shoes were a brilliant scarlet red. "Are those sufficient reasons for terminating your employment early?" she asked softly.

"I, uh, yes." I replied, in a serious tone. "The extra time will be a godsend. I have a lot that needs doing, but I confess a lot of time at first will be spent on simply catching up on sleep." I smiled increasingly broadly as I continued, "And as for the rest, I can assure you that I will do my level best to make sure that any passes you might make in my direction will be wildly successful!"

"Good..." purred Cathy the edge of doubt I had not recognized gone from her voice.

Did she mean here? Now?

One way to find out. I approached her desk, walking around it and sitting on the edge, right beside her legs. For the first time, I allowed myself to openly appreciate her appearance. I had previously been forced to satisfy myself with brief looks and furtive glances, and they had left me with indelible images of each of her outstanding features, but now I let myself drink her in from head to toe in a long, frankly hungry, appraisal. Most of all, I longingly gazed at her lovely face. I knew her eyes intimately, of course, since I had always focused my eyes on hers like a laser when we conversed, terrified about where my gaze would otherwise wander. But the rest of her visage was equally delightful. She possessed a long, graceful neck, a sharp, delicate jawline, a strong nose (with nostrils currently flaring under my gaze), a wide, lively mouth with subtle, rich red polished lips, and of course those violet eyes. And they were all illuminated by her lively intelligence and charisma.

Currently her features were also illuminated by desire, as I'm sure were mine.

Of course, at that moment, Cathy's desk phone rang.

I glanced back at the caller ID. "Shit!" I exclaimed. "It's Petersen, the goddamned OSHA guy." I knew Cathy had to take the call. Petersen was simultaneously the biggest pain in the ass Cathy had, and the hardest to get ahold of. Cathy grimaced and gestured for me to hand her the receiver. She was placing a finger to her smiling lips in a 'shhh' as she took it from me.

"Frank!" she exclaimed into the phone. "What is the hardest working bureaucrat in government doing calling me at 5:30 in the evening? Shouldn't you be long gone from the office by now?"

Shit. Shit. Shit. I had never spoken to Frank Petersen, but I knew his reputation. The guy was congenitally incapable of getting to the point, or of letting anyone else get to it either. Cathy was going to be on the phone for a while. I did not want this magical... no, miraculous... moment to slip away. I smiled at her and she smiled back frustratedly.

I looked down at her legs crossed on the desk beside me and I idly began to trace my fingers up and down her calves. Cathy's eyebrow shot up, but her smile only grew. I had honestly not realized that her legs were bare until I touched them, they were so smooth. She was either a dedicated shaver, or she kept the entirety of her legs waxed smooth. As I continued to stroke and caress those calves, I hungrily wondered what else she kept waxed, and in what configuration.

Petersen had apparently not gotten much past 'hello' in his interminable way, when I began to move my explorations of Cathy's legs northward. Her knees were elegant and the skin was luxuriously soft. I barely spent a few breaths caressing her knees though, as those supple thighs awaited me. The way she sat with her legs up on the desk left her skirt hiked up just slightly, exposing a bonus inch or two of bare, smooth flesh above her knees. My hands slid upward, left, and right over that exposed stretch of paradise, massaging her gently but firmly.

I was looking into Cathy's eyes the whole time, except when one or the other of us stole a glance down to my advancing hand. I let my smile lurch into a cheerful leer as my hand began to explore her outer thigh up under the skirt for a few inches. Cathy's eyes widened in response. Her calm voice on the phone as she tried to guide Petersen to get around to his point was wildly, excitingly at odds with the expression on her face as I explored under her skirt. For the first time, she seemed not quite able to remain still under my caress.

I slid my caress from the outside of her thigh around to where her crossed legs pressed their inner curves together. I slid a finger up and down that line, first idly, then pressing harder and almost demandingly. Cathy looked down at my hand moving just under her skirt for a while, then rolled her head away to stare off into space. Petersen must have paused to take a breath, because Cathy quickly began speaking, trying to get the conversation to go somewhere, anywhere, but hopefully to one of the many things she actually needed to talk to this bastard about.

Slowly, idly, as if not paying any attention, she sinuously uncrossed her legs, letting them rest just barely apart.

I resisted the temptation to let my fingers dive in instantly. That was not easy. But I managed it, and instead merely let them brush back and forth across first one inner thigh, then the other at the same depth under her skirt as I had already probed. I could see Cathy's face flushing in response to my caresses, and I could feel the heat of her thighs doing likewise.

Cathys' words and expression suddenly indicated that Petersen had slipped the conversational leash and wandered off again. I cruelly added to her frustration by sliding my hands out from under her skirt and from between her legs. She looked at me in exasperation. I merely smiled.

Then I slipped off the edge of her desk and rose, looking down on her as she leaned back in her chair, arrayed below my gaze magnificently. Then I reached down and brushed my fingertips on the base of her richly patterned, heavy pink silk men's-style tie. I deliberately kept my touch feather-lite as I trailed my fingers upward. I was sorely tempted to go off-track when I reached the swell of her enticing breasts, but I kept my fingers on the tie and between her curves. After as slow a progress as I could manage, I reached her throat. The tie was tied in one of those complicated modern knots that I think look great, but have never managed to learn to tie for myself. Of course Cathy had mastered several of them. At the base of Cathy's elegant neck, the deeply layered knot looked both stylish and vaguely suggestive. I brought my other hand over and began to gently loosen the tie, then the knot itself. Cathy looked at me in curious anticipation as I finally, silently popped the tie free and slid it from around her neck. I slung the tie over my shoulder temporarily and unbuttoned the button at the neck of her dress shirt. Then I unbuttoned the next one down. Then one more.

Then I stopped, stood up straight and walked across her spacious office toward the door to her private washroom. She kept a wooden suit butler there for when she needed to change outfits while at work. I dangled the tie around it. When I turned back to her, Cathy's grin told me that she had bought into my game, but in doing so, she seemed ready to take back some control from my teasing.

I stepped next to her, but she forestalled my next play by tugging on my own necktie. She then made a loosening motion and stared at me significantly. I started to yank my tie off, but realized the idea was to go slow, so I instead began to unknot the tie with it still around my neck, pulling loose the lops one by one, then slipping it from around my neck only when fully untied. I liked my ties and was proud of my collection, but having just handled Cathy's sumptuous pink number, mine felt like a polyester clip-on from Sears. I rolled my unworthy tie up and popped it in my jacket pocket. Cathy then tugged at my jacket itself and leaned back to watch. I slowly slipped it off my shoulders, letting it slide off my arms under the power of gravity alone. I slung it over my shoulder and stepped to the nearby credenza where I neatly placed it. When I turned back, before I could approach her again, Cathy was playing with the unbuttoned collar of her blouse significantly, and pointed at me. Okay. I pulled my shirttails from my trousers' waistband and began to unbutton my dress shirt from the bottom up. Once I undid the collar, I let it hang open, exposing my chest while I undid the cufflinks on the french-style cuffs I preferred. I pocketed the links and slid the shirt off in similar fashion to the jacket. I folded it neatly and set it atop the latter.