It was a sublet in the big city. I never imagined moving into someone else's apartment would open a whole new erotic world.
Being offered a position with a large law firm in the city meant I needed to find housing quickly. I would be a probationary employee for six months before the firm determined if they would take me on full time. I was reluctant to sign a year's lease and risk being stuck with rent payments and no job.
On-line I found a sublet for six months. The lease holder was about to depart on a work assignment in Europe and would be leaving in a few days. He and I connected via Skype. He gave me a virtual tour of the apartment, which consisted of a large living/dining/kitchen area, a small room he used as an office and a large bedroom with an en suite bath. There was also a half-bath off the tiny foyer by the front door. I emailed him references and used PayPal to give him two months rent up front. He would leave the keys with the front desk and I could move in over the weekend.
I arrived by taxi from the airport. The apartment was close to downtown and near public transportation. The driver helped me unload my three big bags and left me standing in front of a well-maintained, but old, U-shaped brick building. The main entrance lay straight ahead at the back of the courtyard in front. The doorman helped me with my bags. After showing ID to the day desk person, I was given my key and the doorman helped me take my bags to apartment 6G.
The man I was sub-letting from had good taste and the apartment was nicely decorated. I spent the afternoon unpacking and then running out to stock up on some essential groceries and supplies. Collapsing early from the plane trip and getting set up, I was in bed by 10.
The next morning I arrived at the law firm and met four other new lawyers, two guys and two women. One woman and I were assigned a shared cubby and given ten minutes to settle in before we were to meet with the managing partner.
"I'm Kyle Anders," I said offering my hand.
"Ferry Williams," she said.
"Furry?"
Laughing, she said, "No, F-E-R-R-Y."
"Good, you really don't look all that furry," I replied. "But, I never heard anyone called Ferry. Is it like in a ferryboat?"
"You think I'm that big?"
I quickly tried to get my foot out of my mouth.
"God, no, that's not what I meant. You are really attractive."
"Are you allowed to say that in the office?" she asked. "Isn't that like harassment, or something?"
"Oh, I didn't mean you were sexually attractive," I said trying to backtrack.
"Really? Then how did you mean attractive?"
This was getting off on the total wrong foot.
"Look, I meant no insult about ferryboat. You aren't fat. Not that there's anything wrong about being fat," I added quickly.
"Relax, Kyle. I'm just busting your balls. And, it's nice to see you're a fan of Seinfeld. I must have seen every episode a dozen times. It's my favorite show."
She smiled and I felt some of my tension easing away.
"Anyway, my real name is Jennifer. When I was in elementary school I think there were five other Jennifers. And, they were all called Jenny. So, wanting to be different I started calling myself Ferry, using the last part of my name. I never even thought about people thinking I was saying Furry. Needless to say, I've had this conversation many times."
As we placed our meager personal stuff on our desktops I asked, "Why not change it?"
She smiled again, "Because everyone remembers it. That can be a good thing when you're trying to move ahead."
A woman knocked at our cubicle and said it was time to meet in the conference room.
We entered to find the new lawyers and five other people. The managing partner introduced herself and welcomed us. She gave us a quick overview of the firm, most of which we knew since we each had done our homework before applying here. It was the top firm in the city.
She then turned the meeting over to the human resources director who walked us through the meager benefits we would have as probationary employees. She also spent a long time on codes of conduct and what could get us fired in a hurry. Those warnings centered mostly on breaking confidentiality, getting caught doing drugs or practically anything else that a senior partner didn't like about us.
We were given folders full of forms we needed to complete, sign and return. The last part of the meeting was devoted to getting marginally acquainted with the partner who would be our supervisor. Since Ferry and I were in the mergers and acquisitions department we met Billy Boynton. He was in his fifties and looked like he'd seen his share of major battles. We later found out his nickname was Billy the Kid, partially because he once was the youngest partner but mostly for his reputation as gunning down the opposition in hostile takeovers.
He talked for a bit about the importance of this division of the firm, emphasizing that it brought in a lot of money and that we better not "fuck it up". He then gave us to his top associate, Martin.
Martin quickly stripped away any illusions that we would get anywhere near a client or a courtroom.
"You will be our moles. We will have you digging deep into background and bringing us nuggets. If you produce no nuggets, we have to question whether you're worth keeping. This, dear children, is the big times. You do not take a breath unless we can bill you for it. You may have time for a quick pee during the day, but do your shitting on your own time. As you walk back to your miserable cubby, take a look out the window and enjoy the sunlight. It will be the last time you see it for at least these six months. Now, scurry away and I will send someone around with your assignments. She will show you our library. Count on spending lots of time there and on your computers. We've given you passwords and access to all the major search programs we use. So, move along. If you are lucky and don't crack under the strain, kill each other or someone else, and, most importantly, do not make a fucking mistake, you may make it to full-time associate."
Ferry and I found our way back to our cubicle.
"Inspiring," she said.
"God, nothing like making you feeling you're dog shit on the sole of the world," I moaned.
"It better be dog shit and not your own," she said with a laugh. "Remember, shitting is on your own time."
We both laughed. Our good mood was soon ended by the arrival of a legal assistant pushing a cart piled with folders. She efficiently outlined what we were supposed to look for in the folders and that the partner on this client wanted our input by tomorrow morning.
After she left, Ferry and I looked at each other. "I guess Martin was right, we won't be seeing much sunlight," Ferry said.
I pulled my butt home at 10 pm. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed, but I knew if I did not get some physical activity in I would soon turn into a blob.
I stripped and dug my jump rope out of my backpack. I learned in law school that opportunities for exercise were limited. I started carrying a jump rope with me and whenever I had a few seconds of spare time, I skipped to get lots of aerobic benefit. I also added some Tai Chi to help me release stress and would throw in some crunches, push-ups and chin-ups for muscle toning.
I did close to twenty-five minutes of skipping before I took a quick shower, downed two energy bars and fell asleep in less than a minute.
The next day was more of the same. Ferry and I found we worked well together. She was more of a free-association thinker while I was a one step at a time guy. I'm a little older since I had first gotten a masters in finance before entering law school.
We took our first break for both bathroom and food at 2 pm. We found the lunch room and picked up two sad looking tuna sandwiches, chips and cokes, which we ate at our desks while slogging through files and doing research.
Our assigned legal assistant popped her head in at 4 and said the partner we did the work for wanted to see us.
He welcomed us. We sat in his office looking out the tall windows at the city skyline.
"That stuff you gave me today was not all shit," he said.
We took it as a compliment.
He then went on to tell us where he wanted more background. We left knowing that getting out before nine would be a miracle.
Once again that night, I stripped and did a half hour of rope work.
I found this was going to be my routine. It was September and the days were growing shorter and chillier. I left in the morning when it was hardly light and returned in total darkness. I had yet to turn on the large screen TV in the living area. I slept, worked, jumped rope and started over again.
Ferry and I worked thirteen days straight without a break. It was the Sunday of our second week before we could take a day off.
I slept late that morning. I got up and made myself a real breakfast with bacon and eggs I bought on the way home last night. I was enjoying reading the Sunday paper when I heard a knock at my door. I rarely wore clothes in the house and pulled a blanket from the couch around my middle.
Since I knew no one in town, except for work, I assumed it was the doorman bringing up some package or dry cleaning. I opened the door to find two young and incredibly beautiful women staring at me.
"Uh, hi," I mumbled, feeling awkward being so exposed.
"So, you're Thumper," the blond haired one said.
"Pardon?"
"What the hell do you do up here," asked the brunette.
"I'm sorry," I replied beginning to get irked. "Who are you?"
The blond replied. "We are the people that live below you. All we hear every night is some ungodly pounding on our ceiling. It sounds like a rabbit banging its foot."
It then dawned on me that my rope jumping must be right over their bedroom.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I never thought about the noise. Look, come in."
They exchanged a look and then eyed my mostly naked body. They both zeroed in on my blanket and I could see the indecision in their eyes.
"No, come in, I'll go put some clothes on. There's a fresh pot of coffee on the counter and some warm toast. Help yourself and I'll be right out."
They exchanged another look and took a step inside. I made my way down the hall and quickly pulled on jeans, a sweatshirt and slippers.
They were sitting at the tall stools at my kitchen counter and fixing their coffees.
"Let's start out the right way," I said.
"I'm Kyle Anders." I shook hands with each woman.
"Brittany Edwards," said the blond.
"Tiffany Moran," offered the dark-haired one.
"So, I guess I've been making a racquet. Again, sorry."
"It's just that we go to bed really early and it wakes us up," offered Brittany
I caught the "we" part. If their apartment had the same layout, they must be sharing one bedroom and presumably one bed.
"Oh," was my best response. "How early do you get up?"
"No later than four," said Tiffany.
"What the hell do you do?"
They looked at each other.
"We're on the morning news on Channel 4"
"Really?"
"Yep," said Brittany. "I co-anchor the news part and Tiff is the weather reporter. We're the top rated morning show."
"Sorry, I don't watch any TV. So, I guess if you're up at four, you must go to bed at..."
"Between 8 and 9. Today is our day off, so we can sleep late," Tiffany said.
"Look, I'll stop jumping rope..."
"Oh my god, that's what you were doing," said Brittany. "We could not figure it out. We had envisioned some totally weird sexual thing, but no one could last that long."
I explained my work situation and how late was the only time I had.
