I'll admit, my life was what a lot of guys would call "enviable". I'm relatively young at 31, well off, successful, and I've got a gorgeous trophy wife to boot. And I'm miserable. Yeah, let me explain.
I'm Mason, 6'1", decent looks, decent build (thanks to the grind at the gym in my office when I can find the time) with wavy brown hair. I also happen to be the president of a thriving local hotel chain which my father started from nothing and sculpted into the $30 million annual powerhouse it is today. My mother died when I was a child and I have no siblings, so when my father died six years ago from a stroke, his will dictated that the keys to the company were to be left in my hands.
So while I didn't necessarily earn my place in the world, I like to believe that I've certainly risen to the challenge. Our hotel business continues to grow each year since I took over. I have nearly 1,000 employees underneath me who are counting on me to oversee theirs and our company's well being.
That part of my life I'm happy with; I love the people I work with and coming into work is the best part of my day. Unfortunately, the same can't be said about my home life. Remember that gorgeous trophy wife I mentioned earlier? Her name is Stacy and we've been together for 15 years. Yes, that puts us in high school sweetheart territory.
She was a year behind me, 5'8", wavy blonde hair and a great body from head to toe which she kept in perfect shape. She didn't have the biggest chest, more pert and perky than anything, but overall I enjoyed her body. In fact, I enjoyed it as often and as much as she'd let me, but she came from strict Catholic background, so we were pretty limited in what she would do and kept me with blue balls a good bit of the time.
Still, she was the object of most of my friends' and classmates' desires and I felt lucky to have her. I have to admit I always took a certain amount of satisfaction when we'd go out and all eyes would be on her.
All that came with a price, unfortunately. She was wildly jealous if I even so much as looked at another girl. She could also be nasty to me at times, even when we were in public, and she was horribly spoiled. I managed to look passed these shortcomings, or maybe better said I simply had a huge blindspot as I focused on her more positive "assets".
Maybe that's why my dad never really warmed to her, but he could see she made me happy, so he supported me when I told him I was going to ask for her hand in marriage. We were married as soon as we both finished college. I wanted to go into independent film and be a director to make the kinds of films that I loved, but my father and Stacy put aside their differences long enough to convince me to follow in his footsteps and take up the family business.
I figured I could still find time on the side to put write and devote to film making, but when my father passed, all of that went out the window. As admittedly incredibly naïve as it sounds, I had no idea how much responsibility my father had being in charge of the business. I no longer had time for hobbies and lost most of my friends because I simply didn't have time to see them, but as I said I enjoyed the work and the people I worked with and was happy continuing what my father started.
Stacy, on the other hand, never had many aspirations beyond staying at home and taking care of the kids, which brings us to where this seemingly picture perfect life begins to fade.
Try as we might (and I loved to try), Stacy and I could not conceive. We went to specialists, took all the pills and drugs you can, tried special diets, and every form of conception involving the two of us you could imagine, but nothing ever took. Stacy refused to believe anything was wrong with her when in reality the sad truth seemed to be that we weren't a good match in that way.
I suppose I had always wanted kids, but not on the same level that Stacy did. Just about the only thing Stacy ever knew she wanted to be was a mother to her own child, and when I couldn't accommodate, things began to quickly degrade between the two of us.
She blamed me solely for our troubles and began to treat me like dirt on an increasingly regular basis. She'd never miss a chance to take a shot at my apparent infertility, even once in the company of close friends at a party when she'd had too much to drink. I figure the only reason she stayed with me was because of the extremely cushy life we enjoyed which my place at the company afforded us.
If I was around her more often, I likely would have walked out myself, but being that I had my hands full taking care of the business, I only saw her for dinner on nights she wasn't out with friends or on an occasional weekend. I knew something had to break, and it was only a matter of time.
That something came from one of the most unexpected places I'd ever imagine.
My secretary (now don't get ahead of yourself) was due to go on maternity leave at the end of the month for six months. She's actually the wife of one of my best friends (it was actually at their baby shower that Stacy made the crack at my expense... but I digress) and it just kind of worked out timing wise that when my last secretary quit, my friend's wife had just been laid off and needed a job.
I was happy to step in and offer her the job. She thankfully actually did a great job and was the best secretary I had ever had, but with her set to leave for six months, I needed to find a temporary replacement soon.
I held interviews for candidates among all ages and backgrounds and whittled it down to three finalists. Kent was an ambitious young man to say the least, fresh out of college with designs on starting his own business someday, but he was a bit too much of a brown-noser for my liking, looking to do or say anything to get ahead.
Sarah was probably the most qualified of any of them. She had worked on the desk of one of the higher ups at a rival hotel chain but had quit apparently because of what she referred to as an unprofessional work environment. That was another word for sexual harassment if I've ever heard one. She was working her way through college most nights but assured me it wouldn't get in the way if I hired her.
At 23, she was tall with blonde hair done up and had both the legs and facial features of a model. She was a knockout and reminded me a bit of Stacy when she was younger, but a lot cheerier. Focus, Mason.
Then you had Dawn. At 51, she was easily the oldest of all of the candidates I interviewed. She didn't have much experience in the administrative assistant field but she interviewed very well and was extremely personable so I decided to put her in the final draw.
With those three in mind, I went home and brought them up in conversation with Stacy over dinner. After I gave her the basic details of the three, she told me rather matter of factly to pick Dawn. I mentioned Stacy had a jealous streak, and when a former female classmate of ours looked me up out of the blue on Facebook a few months earlier, it reignited the watchdog in her.
With that in mind, I was a bit surprised that she didn't go straight for Kent, but when she quickly followed up her choice by exclaiming "I know you won't be tempted to get into that fossil's pants", her crude thought process was clear.
It was all the same to me, though. With Kent liable to drive me insane and the fact that I frankly didn't need Sarah as a distraction at work, Dawn was probably the best choice for me. I went out to the back patio to call her and deliver the good news. She was more elated than I was expecting and it took me a couple of minutes just to say goodbye in between the repeated "thank yous".
That Monday morning, Dawn came in and took over my desk. Other than a few dropped calls or scheduling gaffs early on, she was doing a good job.
I admitted to myself that although she was old enough to be my mother, she was fairly attractive. She was about 5'4" and maybe about 150 pounds. She wasn't heavy, but you certainly wouldn't describe her as a petite woman by any means. She wore the weight well, though. To use a word we don't often use anymore, "voluptuous" might be a better way to put it.
She had chestnut brown hair which she typically wore up and with little makeup, but for some reason I appreciated that. Maybe the fact that Stacy always went overboard with whatever goop she put on her face turned me off to makeup in general.
