War Ch. 1: Opening Shots
Heather Saffron had a firm rack, legs that could do no wrong (or perhaps all wrongs), and an ass that any man would kill to touch, grab, or smack. She had golden blonde hair tinged with black, giving her a look truly deserving of the description ‘dirty blonde’. She had blue eyes, cherry red lips, and a skin tone that wasn’t too dark, wasn’t too light.
She was God’s gift to men but somehow that gift lost its tag. Heather Saffron ended up a lesbian much to the horror of any man who had the pleasure of looking upon her. Sure, it was a bit comforting to imagine her in bed with a woman, but we did the same with straight girls. According to the stories I’d heard, you could convince every straight girl in the world to experiment with a girl before you’d even manage to get Heather Saffron to think about a guy.
The term unattainable was written in stone for her. Any man who could fuck her would be regarded as a living deity—they’d add a new chapter to the Bible for that son of a bitch.
It wasn’t the moment I laid eyes upon her that I decided I’d be that son of a bitch. It wasn’t when I heard the stories I decided I’d be that son of a bitch. It was when I first tried to be that son of a bitch and she shot me down that I knew I would have to be that son of a bitch.
* * * * *
Markus Publishing dealt in all corners of the world. We weren’t a moralistic or upstanding company—we gladly made propaganda for dictators and lied and slandered innocents in the Western press. I had gotten into the inner circle thanks to my friendship with Arthur Markus—I had sent a few women his way and he felt obliged to promote me. I now had access to the company jet, the special executive company account, and the company assassin if I so required. I’m still not sure if that last thing was just a joke the other guys in the office were playing on me.
It was the definition of the Old Boy’s Club—brandy, cigars, and the dirtiest and most racist jokes you can imagine. The only thing I was sure had changed since the 1940s when the company was founded by James D. Markus II, is that now Asians and Blacks were gladly allowed to make their own racist jokes towards white people. I guess that’s social progress for you.
When rival newspapers put up stories from women claiming sexual harassment and gender discrimination against Markus (each and every one true), he was forced to make a move and hire a female employee for a top executive job that had recently opened up. She was Heather Saffron. The claims quietly went away, since apparently no asshole would ever hire a liberal lesbian like Miss Saffron. Arthur was an asshole, just a cynical asshole who knew how to play the corporate game.
Her first day on the job was an interesting one to say the least, since most of us men at the top floor were afraid to talk to her. Towards the end of the day I built up the courage to strike a conversation.
“Say, how about you and I go get a drink after this,” I slipped in to our conversation just after mentioning an accounting problem.
“Do you know what the worst part about being a lesbian woman in a straight man’s world?” she cooed with her soft but powerful voice.
“Do tell me, Miss Saffron,” I said.
“Trying to think up the cruelest ways possible to turn down men each and every day.”
“My, that would be difficult. One of these days you’ll be without a retort and you’ll be forced to go out and have a little fun.”
She flashed a mocking smile. “Little being the operative word, I’m sure.” She passed by me and with that our first conversation was over. She got the last word. I was in fucking love.
