Something About Elle

Jealousy ripped through Elle's breast as she glimpsed the man she admired but until now had not attempted to claim.

Donovan Seymour, sprawled in his office chair, widened a crooked smile at the woman who was unzipping the back of her dress as she fell on to her prey and kicked the door shut with her trailing foot.

It was a display of remarkable dexterity.

That woman ought to be in a circus with those skills, fumed Elle Jamieson, nails bending into her palms unfeelingly, masked by adrenalin fueled angst surging through her. Who was this intruder and why was she with Donovan?

The door wasn't locked. She should charge in and pull Donovan to safety; he wouldn't stand a chance against a seductress possessed with such aggression unless he resorted to brute force.

A solitary dry sob forced through her mouth. Her shoulders slumped and she walked away without a backward glance: her Donovan had been taken from her.

What?

That was new thinking because until now Elle had regarded him as just another guy in the office even though he was the boss and she he admired her . In her heart she knew she had no entitlement to fight for him.

In the executives' lounge Elle slumped in a black leather chair gulping water, feeling a concoction of anger, dismay and betrayal seep through her.

Betrayal?

That's a bit rich coming from her, Miss Frozen Heart who's fought herself against giving her keen-eyed boss an ounce of encouragement.

She'd not even weakened when she broke down in his office when telling him her engagement with Dunlop the pilot was over.

He'd stroked her hair and whispered into her ear "It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter" until those whispering lips touched her ear, turning into tiny kisses of incredibly lightness and an intensity flowed into her. That was purely emotional of course.

That had been the moment when she should have unzipped the back of her dress and fallen on to him to be administered from the depths of his soul.

God, she thought, what was she thinking? Until just now she'd masked any inner feelings toward him so successfully that she hadn't been aware she possessed them beyond casual interest.

Doubtless that terrible woman now had him in her mouth... oh God.

Blonde Elle with dark and often sparkling blue eyes and an attractive wide mouth almost never cried but tears began flowing and the accompanying despair whitened her cheeks and made her heart ache.

She tipped out the remaining water, put the glass into the dishwasher and turned out the light and went to the elevators.

To Elle's dismay that same aroused woman entered the elevator just as the doors began closing. Elle knew instantly it was her - multi-brown short-cropped hair, red dress and those green shoes with red-tipped heels and toe caps matching the color of that dress.

The woman was wiping her eyes. Exhausted and victorious, her emotions had runneth over?

With those catty thoughts Elle looked away and stayed put, allowing the seductress to leave first.

Elle waved down a cab and went home to an apartment that seemed extraordinarily lonely that evening and, not eating, went to bed fully dressed and cried herself to sleep.

It had not occurred to Elle that it must have been dangerously close for that woman to have set to a new world record for that fastest example of successful fellatio because the time lapse between when she had seen the door being kicked shut to when the woman entered the life had been rather brief.

The precursor to Elle's heart-breaking experience a few hours ago stretched back almost three weeks ago at a business meeting in Los Angeles...

* * *

Monday mornings at Business Uplift Inc. begins at 8:00 with a management meeting of executives.

Company president Donovan Seymour, fresh back from three weeks adventuring on foreign soil, had for four years dished out presents to his senior executives and displayed his trophy, that first time from South America. It was a solid silver necklace, reputed to be 300 years old, a claim since tentatively supported by experts.

The dishing out of gifts and a display of a trophy became a ritual. In subsequent years Donovan had produced a bassoon-like instrument called a didgeridoo from Australia's Northern Territory, a claymore acquired inland from Inverness, Scotland, and last year from South Africa a deep yellow rough-cut diamond almost half the size of his smallest fingernail. He'd then hand out items purchased at a tourist souvenir shop before flying out of each country.

For some inexplicable reason three months ago there had been an expectation that this year's presentation of small gifts from the president after his latest vacation would be different. Everyone had arrived early, some already on their second cup of coffee. A tinge of excitement was apparent when Pamela head receptionist phoned the boardroom to advise that Donovan was on his way.

"Hi everyone," Donovan had told his executive team. "I see our offices are still standing, your guys have not left me and your chubby faces indicate you are well-fed and that in turn indicates we must still be making money."

Greetings of 'Hi boss' and 'Hi Donovan' were chorused.

Reaching into a canvas bag he placed a small bottle of Kiwifruit liquor in front of each of the three women executives and golf caps marked 'Golf New Zealand' on the heads of the four men.

Disappointment was unmasked as people inspected their el cheapo gifts; this was not at all like their generous boss but that changed when Donovan tossed a travel backpack on the table.

"That land Down Under is a fabulous place for golf, fishing, tramping and scenery. In that pouch is air travel and accommodation vouchers for two for seven nights in New Zealand, going to the executive we choose on majority vote on the last Friday of June as our executive-of-the year in terms of outstanding performance."

Surprise and joy shone on faces as everyone joined to clap in warm appreciation to the boss.

"Donovan is there no trophy this time?" asked the CEO Leigh English.

"I'm glad you asked," he grinned, turning to the door and calling, "Shaynelle!"

The door opened and in walked a beautiful flaxen-hair woman of about thirty with blue jewel-like eyes and a wide, generous mouth carrying a confident smile.

"Christ he's gotten himself married," beamed Bill, director of marketing research and analysis, the department nicknamed 'Forensic'.

Carol in charge of client liaison ('Disaster Recovery') murmured, "Oh, how sweet", looking in danger of fainting; she was not the only female to have secretly dreamed of having Donovan reach for her hand.

The boss began the introductions, Carol being the first to notice that although Donovan stepped very close to Shaynelle he didn't touch her.

"This is Shaynelle Jamieson, her first name spelt S-h-a-n-y-e-l-l-e but for obvious reasons she calls herself Elle."

"What's obvious about that?" Roger asked.

"She became sick of references to perfume and having to spell her name out all the time," sighed Carol, earning a gratified look from the new arrival.

Elle was introduced to Randy Larch, director of New Business Development ('Rev-Up Department').

"Someone else who's decided to shorten his given name," Elle smiled at the tubby Randolph who winked at her and received a dazzling wink in reply.

"This is Carol van Camden, director of client liaison which includes revisiting clients we've dealt with in the past."

Carol almost curtsied, being anxious to create a good first impression.

"This is our treasured and most revered staff member Hannah, my mother, who is director of boring stuff - like payroll, human resources and compliance ('Admin'). She is company secretary.

"How lovely to meet you Mrs Seymour; I have the impression you are perpetually Mom of the Year."

"Flattery will get your everywhere my dear. You are even more beautiful that your photos."

"Photos?"

"Yes Donovan emailed me at least one of you two doing something daily."

"Every day?" replied Elle, turning to Donovan who handled being caught out very well, falling into a coughing fit and reaching for a glass of water on the table.

"We now meet Leigh English, chief executive ('Whip-Cracker'). You'll have a slight common interest with Leigh - she was born in Australia but was long ago - she's now more American and many Americans."

"You'll love it here," Leigh smiled, "and working for this odd-ball company. Some of our clients love us while others hire attorneys to try to have their contract with us legally annulled."

"Wow he didn't tell me that."

"Donovan ignores the bad and focuses on visions and that is why I assume you are here; his interest always goes beyond skin deep. Welcome."

"Thank you Leigh. It's always good to see a woman in your role; obviously your talents go beyond skin deep," Elle said to the very attractive forties-something.

"This is Bill Codington who heads the field team ('Hound dogs) who track down and analyze what they think is wrong with the ailing business."

"Hi Bill, and it's not always a management problem I guess."

"You're a bright lady," Bill smiled. "We must talk."

"Ah this is our highly strung and exceptionally talented Roger Grossi ('Gross Department'). Roger heads people working to create a new image for our client companies and the department chooses new furniture and fittings after deciding the winning client approved for the color schemes.

"Hi you should run along now so we can begin our meeting," Roger said rudely.

"Roger behave yourself," Carol admonished with a growl.

"You have to excuse people who may lack a little in civility," Donovan smiled. "Roger is on the team for his brilliance, not for his manners and restraint, although I have to go out on a limb for him at times."

"It's because he's never grown up," Carol snorted.

"Tut-tut, on we must go. Finally but not least Elle this is Karl Speedy, our director of project structuring. Karl is responsible for liaison and integration on each individual project - putting it together like Lego."

Pointing Elle to a spare seat, Donovan announced that Elle was joining the company for a few months to see how her involvement worked out.

"Milly flew out to Japan last night but I met her at the airport and we chatted at length. The truth is she's opposed to me engaging Elle but that's too bad - I was opposed to her inviting Roger aboard as she'd not had prior consultation with me, yet look how well that's worked out. Milly has agreed to a six month contract for Elle."

Milly, who's Milly, wondered Elle and she whispered the question to Bill Codington, sitting just to the left of where she was standing.

"Milly is our VP," he whispered back, as Donovan began speaking.

"Elle's role is to look at the big picture of what we do, and at individual projects, which means coming into the territory of some of you people - Roger in particular - but without possessing any direct responsibility for affecting change. She will report directly to the project team leader or to our planning meeting. Are there any questions?"

"Yes Donovan, why do we need her?"

"To try to do things even better Roger. Please don't feel threatened any of you by Elle. I have recruited her because she is the most visionary person I have met, to my knowledge. You may see this in due course, if you connect to the same wave length.

"Elle's father operates a fleet of luxury buses taking overseas tourists on general or specialist tours throughout New Zealand. There's nothing remarkable about that. Five years ago the operation he'd founded eight years earlier with four buses had doubled to eight buses, which we'd call very unspectacular growth."

"And then daughter Elle arrived with her MBA on top of a bachelor of psychology to take over as operations manager. Five years on the business has forty-two busses operating to a rigid business model, profitability had rocket along with a growing reputation. A year ago it was declared 'New Zealand Tourist Operation of the Year' and the tour I was on, led by Elle for nostalgic reasons, was the company's final tour. This business owned by Elle's family and friends has been sold for mega-bucks to a Euro-Asian investment conglomerate."

"In case you are wondering the answer is no - there is no personal relationship between Elle and me. She has a fiancé back in Auckland. She is here because I believe she has the touch to benefit our company. Her title will be simply 'visionary'.

"That's a little weird I know but we've done rather well so far by working left and right of the accepted centerline. She is being paid as a senior executive and will sit in on all meetings she chooses as of right. Come to me later in the day if you have any questions or concerns - I won't embarrass you by asking you to open your heart at this meeting."

"Welcome to the team, Elle," Hannah said. "I can't imagine anyone else thinking about appointing someone as executive of the big picture. I believe it has promise."

"Thank you Hannah," Elle said. "I'm excited about being here before I've been told many times in recent days you're such a great team."

"Donovan?"

The tension in the room could be felt.

"Yes Roger?"

"I'll be cooperative; I can't see a problem from my perceptive."

"I appreciate that comment Roger. I'll let Elle answer in more depth."

"From thumbnail sketches I have been given about individual's responsibilities, working styles and business personalities, your attitude and level of acceptance are important to me Roger. Our roles potentially over-lap the most. Thanks for your comments."

Looking relaxed, Donovan said they'd better push on with business. After we finish, I'd like each of you to introduce Elle to your key personnel and give her a quick briefing - nothing too elaborate at this stage, starting with you Randy and perhaps you could pass Elle on to Roger."

* * *

Recalling her arrival at the company a year ago, Elle couldn't believe her good fortune in being whisked away to America from her disappearing job (the investment corporation wanted immediate control with her father being retained as a consultant).

There had been a panic to find a replacement tour director for the company's last tour to arrive back at the Christchurch headquarters - a 7-day Round the South Island Adventure Package. Remembering the happy pioneering days she'd spent as a tour guide, Elle cleared her desk and took the tour herself, her father thinking it was a wonderful finale for her.

"But poor you, it's a busload of loud-mouth Americans."

"Where are they from - the mid-West or New York?"

"Nah they're all Californians."

"Dad they'll be mostly intelligent, articulate, friendly and reasonably calm Americans, confident about themselves and not having to dominate the people they meet."

"If you say so dear."

She was pleased to find her pre-assessment was pretty accurate and surprisingly, the one person who stood out was an unaccompanied male - a close-cropped pale hair male, built like an athlete with a marvelous sunbed tan.

Elle thought had she not just become engaged to Dunlop Stewart, a contract pilot ferrying air mail between Christchurch-Wellington-Auckland three nights a week, she'd may easily had succumbed to the smooth-talking Donovan Seymour.

Although they were not lovers, they acted almost as if they were - constantly in each other's company and talking quietly together for hours. They'd talked about business actually - they'd hit on common ground.

Under candlelight on the final night in Wanaka before the return to Christchurch, Donovan made Elle a tempting offer. He invited her to accompany him to Los Angeles when he flew out of Auckland the following Saturday. He promised her temporary work on a salary that made her eyes water, to become a permanent position if it worked out and providing she met immigration requirements.

Thinking back about that dinner that night, Elle smiled. If he'd pushed he could have had her, but perhaps he sensed she was emotionally vulnerable as she'd discussed at length over previous days her love for her job that was being taken from her. After Donovan made the proposal she dug her fingers through her hair and sighed, "I really don't know what to say."

"Saying the word 'Yes' is pretty easy," he'd said.

She'd giggled almost uncontrollably from excessive alcohol fueled by excitement and spluttered a big 'Yes' and offered her hand, which he shook gravely and welcomed her aboard the company.

At Donovan's urging, Elle filed an application for a Green Card to allow her to work in America. He then phoned his office in Los Angeles to arrange a booking for Elle's flight with him on his return to Los Angles.

In the meantime he applied for her temporary entry into the USA as a foreign business professional with special abilities to enhance his business's productivity, petitioning under the H-IB provisions (for temporary entry to work) as 'dual intent', allowing Elle to lawfully seek permanent residency while her 'green card' application was being processed.

Just like a new lover, Donovan phoned her every morning, every night for that long, long next seven days and then she was in his arms as he met her flight into Auckland and they kissed, much like a brother and sister would kiss and he let her go as soon as she pulled away. Two hours later they were dining at the airport with her parents and her fiancé joined them but Dunlop left early to prepare for his mail run back to Christchurch via Wellington.

Not only was this a most peculiar way of being recruited for a position - and a short-term one so far - but the job itself was somewhat difficult to comprehend. She'd attempted to describe it to her parents and Dunlop who expressed their uncertainty about her future and whether Mr Seymour was as genuine as she assured him he was.

Even when she brought up the company's web site and there was a photograph of the company's office, a profile on Donovan and a photograph of Donovan amid his team of forty-three people, doubt still remained that this could be some sort of confidence trick.

Dunlop chose his words carefully; they translated into "I think he's after your body."

Her mother thought Donovan was after Elle's money while her father's only problem was trying to comprehend his daughter doing a task she couldn't see.

"You can't see the planning and envisaged restructuring detail on any job or project on the fly dad."

"You can when you put it down on paper or draw on the computer."

"Oh really? Then think about this dad, eventually I'll sit, chin on my palm, bent over thinking, and when everything is clear in my mind I write a report."

"Oh," he'd said, with the delight of someone who at last sees a door open; that's different, you write a report. At least you'll get a holiday out of it and I disagree with Dunlop; the Yank won't be interested in your body as you're virtually skin and bone."

"Oh gee, thanks dad."

They flew business class, the company paying, and went to Donovan's apartment. After she showered and settled into her room Donovan then took her to her first stop of choice, Rodeo Drive. They ate early and went to their respective rooms early, ready for the big day ahead.

Elle had admired the way in which Donovan handled her introduction to fellow executives. She'd studied the mini profiles of executives and memorized that information along with their job descriptions detailed by Donovan and surprised him by announcing on the way to the office, "If we're not swatted by Roger Grossi we may make home base."

"Pardon me?"

"Once you explain my role everyone will see me as a threat to Roger. If you can defuse Roger if he blows or manage to keep him calm through judicious oratory he'll put on his welcoming smile, despite deep misgivings."