The phone woke me from a focused stupor as my secretary let me know a call was on the line. Talking to whomever it was on the phone, anyone, would be a welcome relief from reading through the boring minutiae of the commercial pre-lease agreement in my hands.
"Paul Sturner on the phone for you, Max."
Paul Sturner? Now there was a blast from the past. Paul and I had worked together in the mid 90s when he was still running a large construction concern in midtown. He'd transferred out to the west coast well over ten years ago and we'd had minimal, though occasional, contact since that time. My curiosity was piqued as I picked up the handset.
"Paul? To whatever do I owe this pleasure?" I inquired.
"Max. Good to hear your voice again too, old friend. How are you?"
I replied and we spent the next few minutes talking small and catching up. Finally our conversation turned to the real reason for his call.
"Max, I'm calling to ask you a favor," he said.
"Paul, I believe the ledger balance is largely tipped in your direction, so anything I can do for you, just name it," I replied.
"Well, you may vaguely remember my daughter, Kim. She was probably only 10 or 11 when you met her, but she's all grown up now, as they tend to do, and she's going into her last year of architecture grad school at USC. She's a great kid and a terrific student, but she's in LA for the summer and having an impossible time finding an internship or summer job in the trade. She's working, but as a hostess in a restaurant. I really think she needs a little practical exposure to the whole development world and I was hoping I could ask you if you'd let her shadow you for a week in August. No need to pay her and she can stay at our little place on the Upper West Side. But I think she'd benefit greatly from seeing how you do business and how you work with professionals in her field. I know this is a big favor to ask, but..."
"Paul, I'd be happy to help. It would be my pleasure."
I vaguely remembered meeting Kim and her younger brother at some function or grand opening of some sort, but it was a long time ago; a very hazy memory and a passing nod at best. I recalled that Paul had adopted both of his children and they were of Asian descent; Vietnamese, if my memory served me. But, beyond that, there was little that I remembered.
"I know this is an imposition, Max, but if you could just let her accompany you to a few meetings and visit a few building sites, I think she'd get a good dose of reality from you. And it would get her out of LA and a sort of social rut I think she's in there. You'd be doing me a great service, Max."
"Say no more, Paul. Consider it done. Let me check my August and get back to you, or her. I'll try to find a week I'm here and doing some interesting things. I'm glad you called, really. I'm happy to help."
We updated contact information and he gave me Kim's info as well. It was left that she would contact me and we'd make arrangements directly. While I wasn't sure shadowing me for a week would be all that exciting, there were some interesting projects we were working on and a few meetings she might find interesting.
Our company is a major player in the development and management of some rather large projects in midtown Manhattan and elsewhere, so she would potentially get a very different perspective on the building game and how the design profession factors into the development of commercial projects. And, I most definitely owed Paul from some favors he'd done me well in the past.
The truth is I had always enjoyed being a mentor to younger people on the verge of entering careers related to design, development and construction. At fifty-one, I had spent my entire adult life in the field and had always felt it an honor and an obligation to give back to young people. My marriage, unfortunately, had not survived the time pressures and demands of my work life as I climbed the managerial ladder, but that's a story for another time. Even as I entered my fifties I loved what I did and it enveloped my life. My work had always been, and still is, the primary soul-satisfying aspect of my life. That said, as a successful bachelor about town, I had never had trouble attracting female companionship when I needed or wanted it. I'm tall, slim, and in good shape with salt and pepper hair that is a little too long. And I will admit to having always been attracted to younger women, especially as I'd aged.
Kim contacted me by email the next day and by then I had found a week that looked promising. She had a very polite, but congenial, writing style and she agreed to the week and left it that she would show up at the office at 9 a.m. that Monday. Little did I realize what lay in store for me.
At the precise time on the pre-arranged date my assistant stepped through my office door and showed Kim the way into my inner sanctum. I'm not sure what I had expected as I rose to come around my desk to meet and greet her, but I wasn't prepared for the beauty that swept around the door jamb and into my office with a noticeable air of confidence and aplomb. I stuttered as we walked to one another, our hands extended.
"K...Kim?" I stammered as she took my extended hand and squeezed. I'm quite sure I had a glazed look spread across my face.
"Hello, Mr. Stanfield. It's a pleasure. My father has told me so much about you," she said with a gorgeous smile. Her handshake told me right off the bat that this was a young woman who knew her way around social circles and was well aware of the power of her considerable beauty.
"The pleasure is all mine. But, please, call me Max. No formalities if we're going to be spending the next few days together," I replied, trying to hide my considerable glee at the prospect.
Kim stood about 5'-8" and had a slender graceful figure. While she was assuredly of Asian descent, there was definitely a mixing of European blood that gave her both an exotic air and a unique beauty. Her hair was jet black and her smooth silken skin had the light bronze quality of Southeast Asia. Her huge eyes were dark and fully showcased the mixed blood of her heritage, a blend of French and Vietnamese, as I came to find out.
She was dressed professionally and conservatively, yet still with a provocative air. I immediately noticed the black high heels – a true weakness of mine – and the perfect cut and fit of her rather tight skirt. The short jacket she wore hid her upper assets, but accentuated her very well-proportioned lower half. She appeared from my first survey to have a modest, yet noticeable, bust. Her stature and posture immediately reminded me of a dancer, which I learned was, in fact, a pastime of hers.
