The reception was quite grand. Sumptuously catered in very stylish surroundings. We were in the penthouse suite of one of Toronto's finest hotels. The occasion was a prelude to a conference the next day. We were seeking financial backing and investment for our company. This would equip us to explode into a glittering future. We had the right product, a smart leadership team and an invigorated workforce. Our CEO, Denis Gerhardt, was making a presentation in the morning to the money men. The most important of these were here at this evening's pre-presentation soiree. Denis and his wife Giselle were hosting the event. Some of our key financial and technical staff were also in attendance. Our job was to schmooze the potential investors and gain their confidence and good will.
My name is Dan Bellamy. I'm in charge of our main research team. My function at the soiree was to sound out and bond with the techies who represented the financiers. I needed to give them confidence in our product that they would pass on to their money masters.
Our hosts for the evening were Denis Gerhardt and his wife, Giselle. At six feet two inches, Denis is a tall man. He is not slim but does keep himself in shape by playing lots of tennis and squash. He keeps his reddish fair hair short. He is not yet bald but heading that way. Though only in his late thirties, he already has touches of gray around the temples. As the founder of our business, he is technically gifted and creative. With his outgoing personality and positive attitude, he is a natural salesman. I hear from our finance people that he is ineffective with money, budgets and administrative tasks. Still, he has the dream and motivation to make us successful.
Giselle is petite. She stands 5 feet tall and weighs 100 pounds. She is a charming olive-eyed brunette. Her thick hair cascades naturally across her neck and shoulders in lazy curls. Giselle's eyes are strong and perceptive. She has a dainty but shapely body and an engaging full-lipped face. Her breasts are compact, but her body is firm, with slender hips. At 34 she could pass for much younger.
Although Denis is the creative technical genius, Giselle is the background brain behind the success of the company. She has a lot to say about running the business. Her strong personality and intelligence counters the stereotypical "little-woman." I often sit at the back of the room during board meetings as a technical adviser. The other board members always showed respect to this elegant dynamo.
The Gerhardts were dressed appropriately for the evening. This evening Denis was wearing a conservative dark business suit with a crisp white dress shirt and a red power tie.
Giselle wore a chic, but modest cocktail dress made of sapphire silk with spaghetti shoulder straps. It flowed over her body like a lamina of color adjusting nicely to the demands of her curves. The front was high enough to cover most of her cleavage and went to just below the knee. It embraced her small breasts and clung to her legs and tummy. A small slit unveiled a glimpse of her graceful leg.
Denis and Giselle worked the room well making sure all the potential investors got a share of their time. The support staff - accountants and engineers - mostly talked with their counterparts on the investment side. A team of hired caterers tended an open bar and continuously distributed hors d'oeuvres and appetizers among our guests. The evening went very smoothly. Everyone on our team did their job well. We ushered the stragglers out at the end of the evening. There was a feeling that we had achieved our goal and looked forward to tomorrow with confidence.
I was one of the last to leave. There was no cleaning up to do. That would be taken care of by the hotel staff in the morning. Denis thanked me for my participation. He hugged me, which was totally atypical of him. I guess he had indulged himself and was feeling content with the evening. He wished me a very good night as he went to refill his glass.
My room was one floor down below, so I just skipped down the stairwell rather than take the elevator. I got ready for bed and switched on the television. There was a hospitality bar, but I did not want another drink. I could have reloaded my glass before leaving the reception. Now, I wanted to be fresh and ready for tomorrow's conference and its challenges. It must have been about two o'clock in the morning when my phone rang.
"Daniel, this is Mrs. Gerhardt. I wonder if you could come back up to the penthouse suite. I need your help."
"Of course, Mrs. Gerhardt." I responded. "I'll be right there."
I usually sleep naked, so I pulled on some running shorts and a tee-shirt. I ran up the stairs. Giselle was waiting at the door and ushered me in.
"He's in the bathroom, On the floor!" she seemed to be in a panic. "Can you help him?" She led me over to Denis.
He was sat on the floor beside the toilet bowl, with his back against the glass door of the walk-in shower. His hair was in disarray, and his mouth gaped open. There was some drivel splattered down the top of his dress shirt. I noticed that an empty vodka bottle had rolled across the room.
As I knelt beside him, calling his name, I caught the stench of alcohol. It was comforting that Denis was not in need of urgent medical care. His condition was merely due to drunkenness. I attempted to revive him by shaking him and calling his name. He was totally out of it. He would feel dreadful in the morning. Not just the terrible hangover to worry about. How would he manage the critical presentation?
"Denis, I need to make you chuck up, so no more booze gets into your bloodstream, OK?"
I got no perception he even knew what I was talking about.
"You're going to suffer like hell no matter what. This will prevent you from feeling nasty in the morning."
I took his hand and held it to his face.
"Stick your fingers down your throat. It'll make you retch." I leaned to the side, holding his head down
"Come on, you can do it," I pressed him.
