Author's Notes: This was written for the Winter Contest. Sorry, there's no sex in the story. I'm trying to stay off Santa's naughty list this close to Christmas.
This might have gone in Romantic, but all my readers are in LW so...!
Please vote and comment for the contest, it's the only payment we get. All characters of legal age.
Warning: Cliches and Caricatures abound. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here!
My driver Henry dropped me off at the curb in front of my building. The Christmas shopping traffic hadn't been bad this morning and we'd made good time getting here from my estate.
"What time do you want to leave today Sir?" he asked.
"More than likely five o'clock Henry and please, for the thousandth time, call me Chris."
I slid over the luxurious leather seat and stepped out of the back door of my Rolls Royce, carefully picking my way through the puddles on the sidewalk. My shoes cost me a thousand dollars a pair and even though I could easily afford new ones, I took care of them. Nor did I want to splash the pants of my five thousand dollar suit, or my expensive cashmere overcoat.
The doorman respectfully held the door open for me while Henry took my limo to my private parking area underneath the building. I took advantage of the reflective glass to check that my new eighty-five hundred dollar Empa Gold Tie was straight. It was woven from real gold threads intertwined with silk. I fiddled with it a moment before walking through the door.
I waved to the ladies at the reception desk knowing that they had already spread a message that the boss was in the building. The newly installed twenty foot Christmas tree beside the reception desk gleamed with coloured lights. Tinsel hanging from the branches twisted and twirled in the slight air currents twinkling those colours. Fake presents were piled underneath.. The employees had gotten together last night for a decoration party. As CEO of the company I should have been there, but a game on TV beckoned more.
Heading for my office I again admired the imported antique Greek marble we'd used on the floors and wainscotting. It had been salvaged from a three hundred year old Greek Villa damaged by an earthquake and imported at no small expense. Contrasting with the rich woodwork adorning my massive corner office it gave a solid impression of a company doing very well. Expensive original artwork hung on my wall to complement the lavish furniture and extra large desk I'd imported from Italy. With the hand woven wool rugs scattered around it was an extremely comfortable place to work.
The view over the entire city distracted me frequently, the floor to ceiling vistas of ocean and mountain were breathtaking. The city had trimmed all the trees on the street with Christmas lights and along with the buildings and decorated houses I could see in the distance, it looked beautiful.
Beautiful, but wasteful in my opinion.
I'd come a long way since we started. Clawed my way up from nothing to get here.
We now owned the entire building bottom to top, mortgage free. We have a factory outside the city and I expected to clear that loan within the next six months. That would leave the entire company debt free and worth hundreds of millions. I stood at the window looking out on the world feeling a tremendous satisfaction. Life was good.
Christmas was approaching and I pondered what to get myself. I had my eye on a Ferrari Scagglietti although I thought the four point eight million price tag was a little rich. The Lamborghini Agoista was only two point six million. I briefly toyed with the idea of buying both. I could afford it. I'd have to expand my garage though. The Rolls Royce, Porsche and Corvette already filled it up. The car salesman was hot on my heels to make a decision if I wanted it for Christmas. It seemed a little ostentatious though. I'd wait a bit yet.
The door opened behind me and my PA, Laura, pushed her way in holding a steaming cup of my favourite coffee, Kopi Luwak. The coffee beans make their way through the digestive system of a Civet, a creature resembling a cross between a raccoon and a cat. The beans are hand collected from their poop and imported here from Indonesia. They cost me something like $100 to $500 a pound depending on availability. But the coffee is incredible and something I only shared with our top clients.
As always I admired her trim figure carefully crossing the office trying not to spill any of the precious liquid. She was a stunner. Twenty-eight years old, just five years younger than myself, I'd always harboured an undeclared desire for her. I'd thought about asking her out more times than I could remember, but I'd put ironclad non-fraternization rules in effect for the company and my asking her out would violate them.
She was the first employee I'd hired when I'd been able to afford it after the company started. A young, vibrant, twenty-two year old girl. Fresh out of college with a business management degree and eager to get started in the business world. She had a failed marriage and a young son from a disappeared college husband. I could never remember the kid's name, but knew he was around seven, maybe eight years old.
She handed me the coffee while I took in her five foot two height, dark hair curling down to breast height, a cute button nose and warm, dark brown eyes I could get lost in. If she weighed more than a hundred ten pounds soaking wet, I'd be surprised.
My eyes continued down her body despite my trying not to. I didn't want to give the impression I was checking her out. I frowned when I noticed her skirt looked a little frayed. We wanted a good impression up here on the executive floor and needed to dress accordingly.
As if reading my mind she smiled, "I need to replace this skirt, but it's a favourite and hard to let go of."
I nodded my head, she would take care of the problem, "so what's on the agenda for today?"
"Actually very little today, we're heading into the Christmas quiet time," holding up her tablet to show me my appointments.
She was right, there was nothing all that important, unlike many days when we started we'd put in twelve to fourteen hours to cover it all. She'd always backed me.
I made a decision, "there's nothing here you can't handle. Call Henry and have him bring the car back around the front. Call my club and see if you can scare up a partner for racquetball and then book a table for my lunch. After lunch have them book a massage session with Michael. Make it an extended one. I'm feeling a little pain from everything my personal trainer's put me through the last few days. Could you also call the house and let Berta know I'll want an early dinner. There's another game on tonight."
"Got it boss!"
"Seriously Laura, how many times do I have to ask you to call me Chris?"
It used to be Chris in the early days, but somewhere along the line she changed to calling me boss.
"Sorry."
"What about tomorrow?"
Laura got an embarrassed look on her face tapping the pad to bring up tomorrow, "there's an appointment booked for first thing tomorrow morning, then lunch and part of the afternoon is blocked off. I'm sorry Chris, I don't remember booking this appointment and I've looked everywhere. There are no notes about it. I have no idea how it happened and I can't tell you who it is, or what it's about. I'm so sorry."
"Well, I guess we'll be flying by the seat of our pants tomorrow," chuckling to alleviate her embarrassment. Truthfully, Laura made damn few mistakes and certainly nothing this large. That was a lot of unexplained appointment time.
I shrugged back into my Vicuna Cashmere overcoat that set me back twenty-one thousand dollars. They were incredibly rare and I'd only scored one because of a friend with a connection to the company. They handmade exactly one hundred of them a year.
Another thought occurred to me, "I noticed the scotch is getting a little low Laura. Could you try and get me some more of the Balvenie fifty year old, that last bottle set us back fifty grand. Try to see if you can find some at the thirty-seven thousand price tag."
"Yeah, it was such short notice last time, but I've got a supplier at the thirty-seven mark so I'll order some today."
"Hmm, maybe order two or three, in fact, make it a half-dozen. The price on that stuff just keeps going up and up, so maybe we can save a few bucks by ordering more."
"Gotcha boss!"
I shook my head at her. It was turning into an ongoing battle between us. Would she ever change back and start calling me Chris again?
Laura headed off and, as always, I watched her go. At the doorway she paused and gave me that come-hither look over her shoulder, something she did every time. She knew I'd be looking and I knew I'd be looking. My heart did a little pitter-patter of desire for her, she was adorably cute and I ached for her
**********
Unfortunately, only the pro was available at the club. The unofficial member rule was to bet a hundred or two on the winner of each game. Lot's of time it was easy money for me. But the pro drubbed me easily, so I'd be throwing away money to bet against him.
Lunch was excellent, one of their 'no menu' days. It was the chef's own creation, accompanied by an exquisite fine wine. I savoured every bite. I have no idea what the whole meal cost. There was no bill, it went on my account and got forwarded once a month to my company for payment.
I'm happy to say Michael's massage was worth every penny including the fifty dollar tip I left. Those painful spots had disappeared like dew on the lawn when the morning sun hits.
I felt completely refreshed after showering. Henry drove me home and I dined on a tenderloin steak and lobster with fresh veggies that Berta had prepared for dinner. I'd gone through a couple of Chefs until I found Berta. Although not certified, the woman was a food whisperer who worked magic in my kitchen. Thus the personal trainer. He worked my ass hard to keep her from turning me into a blimp.
The household battles between Berta and the trainer were legendary. The trainer insisted I needed a strict diet of vegetables and a small portion of lean meat, no desserts. She countered with a threat to break her ladle over his thick head if he didn't fuck off out of her kitchen and let her cook her best.
A match made in heaven!
I refused to get in the middle of it, I'd gladly take his workout pain for her incredibly delicious creations.
My belly full and bulging slightly, I settled into my leather armchair with a crystal tumbler of my own personal stash of the Balvenie Scotch, no ice. The chair had been custom built with Bluetooth so I could control my eighty inch TV along with the surround sound for music, videos or TV. They'd taken a plaster cast of my body and built the chair to fit me to a "T". It featured vibration, heat, electronic motors that allowed me to put the chair in just the perfect position. I could even answer the phone or the front doorbell without moving. The whole room cost me close to eighty thousand. Of course compared to the two point five million I'd paid for the five acre estate with the ten thousand square foot house and Olympic sized pool, the TV room renovations were chump change.
I switched on the game and settled back to watch.
My team was behind a touchdown by the end of the first quarter and I was feeling kind of nibbly, so I headed for the pantry. My favourites were salty ripple chips and garlic chip dip. Both were on my trainer's hit list. He went through the pantry at regular intervals tossing any goodies out. Berta, my partner in crime, planted a few bags in there to distract him and let him think he got it all. We'd established another secret stash locked away for nights like this that he couldn't get at.
I poured myself another finger of Balvenie admiring the colour and fine fragrance of the liquid gold. Gold was right, that little bit had to be worth a couple of thousand dollars. I scored a bag of chips and chip dip and headed back for the second quarter.
