This is a flight of fantasy; completely fictitious. If there is any resemblance to anyone walking among us my apologies.
Since this is the beginning I thought I would begin with a confession of sorts. What follows is a true story. Wry smile. I should know since it happened to me. I admit to being embarrassed, at first, about it all. However, another, once deeply hidden part of me is both thrilled and relieved that I'm being allowed to get all this out in public, in a manner of speaking.
This is not bragging. It's not a lie. It's just me recounting a description of myself, my life, my work and the like. I'm 47, rather average height, quite fit, thanks to a vigorous workout regime devised by a she-devil named Lissy. I keep my jet black hair at shoulder length. I get pampered at a salon every week. The regimen varies. They set the schedule; I show up when I'm in town – if not, one of my assistants calls to cancel. I have a personal shopper; my measurements, likes and dislikes are kept. When they come across something I'll like, it's sent to my place. A decorated decorator (I apologize) keeps my house well appointed. When home my personal chef prepares meals that are healthy, tasty, and nearly always for one. The curious will want to know: 34C, 25, 36, brown eyes, and a landing strip.
The glass ceiling that's often talked about? I didn't break it. I left it shattered in a zillion pieces. Blew through undergrad in 3 yrs, dean's list, summa cum blah blah. I did grad school in 18 months while holding down a full-time job – a breeze. You'd recognize the name of the school; it's always listed in magazine articles that rank schools. The starting salary of my first job was $60,000. Yes, that was a lot in those days. I'm highly placed in a very big international conglomerate. As it's listed I can't name it; there are risks. I'm very well paid these days, with perks: performance bonuses, restricted shares, stock options, car and driver allowances, membership in my health club, and generous vacation time.
You're jealous? I'm sorry darling. That saying, "It ain't bragging if you can do it." I did and I'm not.
I'm gay. I knew it from an early age; had my first serious lover in high school. At that early age it was rather innocent and wonderful until I had to leave for college. She threatened to kill herself if I left. I told her that was absolutely ridiculous. I had to go and she would survive and, in time, find someone else. College? I was busy with classes. Men; ah yes, men. My distance was met with derision and more. They took to spreading rumors that I was a lesbian. I smiled – rather, we smiled. Michelle was on the lacrosse team; she and I were roommates. That was convenient, though tongues did waggle when we moved in together off campus. She discovered a trait (uncovered might be more accurate) that remained dormant for decades after I moved on to grad school and work. That trait is part and parcel of this tale.
Even Cinderella didn't get everything she wanted. There's little time for relationships. Yes, you're right. If I'd wanted to make time I could. It would simply be impossible for me to use an executive dating service. I've yet to hear of one that's above board. Here's my little secret: Once a year I go to an island. No, I won't tell you the direction or any other detail. The only details I'll share are these: it's exclusive, it's for women only, and you have to be recommended and/or invited. You can't bring anyone with you. There are no cameras allowed. They even frown upon the use of phones for obvious reasons. Printed instructions in every room very clearly state that if you must use your phone for business do so from your room. If you're getting the idea of the amount of effort that this resort expends to protect their visitors – good. For two weeks I get to be me: slinky, sexy, decadent, needy, greedy, completely, wantonly me. I came home, tamped it all down, and got back to work. I'm sure a few eyebrows are raised (behind my back) at my tan and my rather liquid, languid strides. Yes, ladies, you damn well know what I mean.
I have a P.A. and an intern. Both are women. In this day and age of P.C. no one would dare say a word out loud. This is me smirking. Every single one of my interns has been a young, ambitious, bright woman from one of the many four year schools in the city where I live and work. There are several others in the metropolitan area. I am flooded with resumes every year that are passed to my P.A. who is tasked with doing due diligence, etc. I'm sure you'll smirk at the coincidence that my P.A. is gay as well. Yes, we were lovers. Yes, I'm completely impossible to have a meaningful relationship with. I know that. Even when she travelled with me it didn't stem the growing distance between us. She's exactly what I need as a P.A., smart as a whip, can't be intimidated – um, even by me, and knows what I need and does it, often without being asked. Think female 'Radar' on M.A.S.H. She's genuinely happy in a very loving, relationship with a very lovely woman her own age. It makes my heart soar to see two humans so in love. I'm very jealous.
Every intern spends a semester. Linda, my P.A., knows the qualifications I require. Yes, they have to be lesbian. No, Linda doesn't have to find out first hand. I trust her gaydar. Truth? Most of them can't wait to get away from me and work elsewhere. I admit it's not in my nature to be a bitch but my work requires me to be a stern taskmistress. I do heed the adage: Praise in public, reprimand in private. Linda keeps a box of Kleenex on her desk for those who need it after a visit to 'The Bitch's Dungeon.' Our work requires precision; inaccuracy is not well received by those above me. It's also hazardous to our stock which hurts us all. Long story short: If you can make it here ... well, you know the rest.
The current intern began in October; her term runs 6 months. Sheri is from a small town in western Pennsylvania. She was valedictorian, played and lettered in several sports, plays softball in college, and carries a double major - Economics and International Business. How she finds time to intern I have no idea; not my problem. She's a leggy, 5-10 blonde, green eyed, full lips, a slender yet lush figure. She dresses well, which is a job requirement. Linda makes it clear to intern candidates that skirts are preferred though not mandated.
"Okay Julia, enough of your little 'saga.' Get the real story started."
"Yes Ma'am."
I was leading a rather large gathering from different divisions in the company. We had settled on Dallas because it was a major destination for most cities here in the US and easily accessible for those from other countries. Linda and Sheri were primarily tasked with putting the details together after I had handed them an outline of what the theme would be. The date proved to be a problem for Linda. She and her honey had scheduled a vacation several months ago. She practically begged me to allow her to keep her plans intact. I did feel obligated to allow her to do just that.
I asked her if she thought Sheri was up to the task of handling the conference for me. She thought for a bit and slowly, her head nodding, said, "Yes, I think so. She may resist with school and obligations inherent in that. But she may jump at the chance to 'run' the show for you."
Told you she was a smart cookie!! That was exactly what I had been thinking.
"Would you please bring her in here so I can discuss it with her?"
"Sure. Be right back."
While Linda is bringing Sheri to my office I'll share a few thoughts. I had my eye on this one. She is super hot. I mean, the girl could read the phone book and have me wet. I knew full well that Linda and her honey had planned a trip. I scheduled the conference with that in mind. I also knew Sheri couldn't pass up the chance to run it. I planned to take full advantage of the opportunity as well as full advantage of the young lady. I demurely bow in your general direction. AS IF.
"Julia we're both here."
"Good. Hi Sheri; how's the day going?"
"Frantically busy as always, Ms. Simpson, but I'm managing thanks."
"Mm hmm, I expect that you would. Please sit down."
Linda was already seated. Sheri took a seat next to her.
"Linda, how are preparations for the conference coming along? Everything going as planned?"
"Yes Julia. Sheri and I are getting everything in order. Rooms are booked. The hotel has faxed us details of the scheduled meals. Through the hotel, we've contracted with cab companies and such to get our people to hotel as needed, with an appropriate discount. Sheri, anything to add?"
"No, Linda, I think that covers it. Ms. Simpson, I'm sure there will be a last minute surprise or two, but as of now I think the two of us pretty much have it handled. One of us will let you know if there's anything you need to be apprised of."
"Very good, both of you – well done. Sheri, I'm going to need you to accompany me on this little trip. Our Linda has a long standing vacation planned. I confess I'd forgotten about it when the trip was planned. Now, I know you have a full class load at school and that demands a lot of your time beyond what you do here. I need to know if you can be free for the three days that this conference will take, keeping in mind that the last two days are a Saturday and Sunday."
