Continued from Part 4:
She drove me home and dropped me off with a kiss. I was walking to the door when I saw her brake lights come on and she reversed back and lowered her window.
"You called me Sugar." She shouted out and drove off screeching her tyres.
* Chapter 12 *
The following week I flew to Chicago for the final signing of the GECC & TSA contract. I arrived on Tuesday morning and went straight into the boardroom for the presentations. Both companies were represented by their major shareholders and their management teams.
The presentations from the department heads, went on all day and the final contract signing was at four. There was a photographer to record the event.
Thereafter we broke away only to re-convene at seven at a Restaurant complex called the Windemere in a private function room for a five course dinner. There were almost thirty five of us. Some of the very senior managers and or Shareholders had brought their wives along, but the majority were single. Rebecca was congratulated repeatedly by the Big Boys and was riding high on a wave of admiration.
The meal over, I found myself alone on the expansive balcony looking across the Loop and the ongoing dominance of Willis Tower. I had a rather large Johnny Walker Blue in hand when Rebecca slid up from behind and wrapped her arms around me.
"Hiya, Boss." She was already tipsy.
"Reb, You're three sheets to the wind my girl." I was somewhat concerned. Obviously, all the stress and late nights leading to the final signing had resulted in her letting her hair down a little too much.
"Ah, but am I your girl?' She spun me around so I was facing her. She pressed her body to me, her lips seeking mine and we kissed long and hard. She pulled back sooner than I wanted. "So, you popped Shannon's anal cherry and bought her jewellery." She looked somewhat amused as she searched my face for answers. - Jesus Christ, was there nothing sacred between those two.
"Guilty as charged I'm afraid." Never apologise, never explain was a good motto in certain circumstances and I think this one qualified.
"I'm glad" she snuggled into me, her arms around my neck and her hands caressing the back of my head. We kissed again. "Do I get to hope there may be jewellery in my future?" She arched an eyebrow quizzically.
"Rebecca," I smiled. "Between your salary package and bonuses you can afford anything you want." I pointed out.
"Ah, but it's not the same." She pouted. "A girl wants to be bought pretty things." She kissed me again languidly. "Italian fashion is also acceptable."
***
Part of the Windemere Restaurant Complex included a small dancehall and with the exception of some of our crowd who excused themselves early and left for home, the rest of us ended up there to finish the evening with a trot on the floor. There was already a small crowd not of our group doing their thing. Even some thirty to forty year old single guys looking for pick-ups.
The music was live from a three-piece band playing crooner music, mostly Frank, Dean and some Bing. The dancing was old fashioned and slow. Some couples just shuffled about holding their partners whilst others, mostly the over fifties and sixties had some real moves. I stood near the bar sipping a Dirty Gin Martini watching the action on the dance floor when Ms Du Preez -- call me Elza -- sidled up to me.
"Mr Taylor!"
"Please call me Erik, Ms. Du Preez."
"Please call me Elza, Erik" She nodded towards the dancefloor, "Will you take me for a spin Erik?" I did and although my best was a Waltz or something that I could modify a Waltz into, she was a consummate dancer and made me look good.
She was a doyen of the Arts and a philanthropist, supporting a number of charities including shelters for abused animals. She was also the primary sponsor for a wild bird sanctuary and a firm believer in centrist politics supporting a candidate's positions and not parties. She was either in the news or in the fashion pages.
We danced and spoke. I discovered that her husband had been one of the last old-style industrialists who died at the age of sixty two from a massive coronary back in 2004, She was thirty four at the time. Everyone thought she was eye-candy, a trophy wife, but she said she had been deeply in love with him. His kids from his first marriage contested the will and eventually she agreed to walk away with only fifteen million dollars.
She started investing in businesses of people she knew and trusted. The first, was an old school friend that wanted to open a small beauty salon, offering middle class housewives a taste of the high life at prices they could afford. She took a fifty per-cent stake with money she hadn't tied into long term investments and secured premises, furniture equipment and the rest. Initially they couldn't afford salaries for lots of staff so they started with a single hairdresser and trolled local colleges for students in the beauty field offering them low salaries but on-hands experience. Soon they had facials, waxes, manis and pedis, a steam room, massage and aroma therapy booths and a changing room with showers.
After a year they brought in two Swiss hair removal machines for the smooth cooch look - reminder to self, to tell the girls -- it would save them much effort and rashes from shaving. Anyway, back to Elza, they supplemented the depilatory machines with permanent hair removal lasers. Eventually they added laser skin rejuvenation and so the list went on. The reason for the success was that they catered to a previously untapped market at prices that were attractive for middle class housewives to adopt a professional beauty regimen as part of their monthly routine.
Within five years they had opened three more and five years after that another seven in Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Michigan, and Wisconsin. Besides that, her long term investments were also growing and she now owned significant share blocks of local and multinational companies. Her shareholdings resulted in her sitting on the board of a number of companies including TSA.
She had no children and remained unmarried but had been seen on the arm of Governors, High Court Judges and a couple of athletes but didn't appear to be tied down to anyone for very long.
"So how many men are knocking on your door every night to take you out Elza?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Not as many as you might think," she laughed. "It's difficult to be a successful woman and attract the right kind of men. Half are in it for the money and lifestyle and the other half are simply eye-candy."
"Just like rich successful men and the women they attract," I got one back for men.
She laughed uproariously. "I knew I liked your honesty."
"What about you?" She asked. "Are women knocking on your door every night?"