It's a well known, documented fact that the female body cannot handle alcohol. Doesn't matter whether they were hardened drinkers in their college days or not, as they get older, their bodies struggle to cope. It's simple science, really. A woman's liver cannot break the alcohol down as well as a man's liver can. And it's certainly true the older they get. If you don't believe me, then look it up.
So, it occurs to me therefore, that alcohol is hands down the single most, best invention ever made, to help men like me, fuck women like Georgia Marlow.
My name is Brad Clooney, and I'm fifty-nine years of age. I'm currently the 'Troubleshooter' for Acme Toys, who are the fourth largest toy manufacturer and supplier in the country. I'm also bald, short, fat, and ugly, so therefore bear no resemblance to the two Hollywood heartthrobs who share my name!
I love my job, and I'm rather good at it. I get a kick out of guiding our customers out of the sticky predicaments they sometimes get themselves into. I like to help them overcome the hurdles that modern business life can throw at them from time to time. And if I get lucky along the way and manage to fuck the occasional female shop owner as a way of payment for services rendered, then that's just the icing on the cake.
These sexual dalliances all started a few years ago when I was but a humble sales representative. Up until that particular time, I had never harbored any thoughts of using my position to score sexual favors. After all, physically I am an unattractive man to the vast majority of the female population, although unlike now I still had some hair and I wasn't as fat.
Once upon a time in a past life I'd been married, but even back in those early days as a salesman, I'd been divorced for quite a while, and my physical appearance made it difficult for me to get very far with many women. Having said that, I did set my sights very, very high. In truth, probably way too high!
My preference then, as it is now, was for really attractive women with nice, fit bodies. Women who dressed nice and kept themselves in good shape. Women who made an effort to look good and smell good all the time. Women like Mrs. Georgia Marlow.
It must have been ten, twelve years ago; I can't remember precisely; it's just that I'm sure I was in my late forties around then. At that time I was simply a humble sales rep with nothing much to prove anymore. I was definitely on my way up the career ladder, as I always exceeded my sales targets without resorting to the hard sell. I also went out of my way to provide my shops with staff training to help with their selling techniques; a fact that seemed to be welcomed by the majority of shop owners.
As my reputation within Acme grew, so they began to entrust me with sorting out matters that would normally be covered by upper management. This was my first step on the way to becoming the 'Troubleshooter' for the company, although obviously at that time I didn't know it.
My first responsibility was to see a business that had problems. The shop wasn't in my area, and as I'd had to travel much further than normal to get to them, Acme Toys was paying for me to stay overnight in a hotel. It wasn't the best hotel in the area, but judging by the palatial suite I was taken to after checking in, it must have been close. It also boasted a good restaurant, and after a hugely enjoyable steak, washed down with a more than palatable bottle of red wine, I adjourned early to my room to enjoy a good night's sleep.
Fresh as a daisy, I was up bright and early the next morning to survey the owner and staff arriving at the shop. The shop itself had a decent location on the main shopping strip of the town, although its exterior did look a little dated and, if truth be known, a bit run down. It would definitely benefit from a lick of paint. Do retailers not realize that first impressions count?
I knew the shop was open from 9am til 6pm Monday thru Saturday because their opening hours were displayed on the door, but it must have been closer to 9.30am when a car pulled up outside and a man got out and opened up. He was joined about fifteen minutes later by a woman who parked her car behind his. I waited a little while longer to see if any more staff were going to arrive, but gave up when the clock in the church tower opposite struck ten.
Not a promising start for a shop in trouble. If the owner couldn't be bothered to open up at the time he advertised, then how could his potential customers have any faith in what he could offer them. Tardiness was not something I tolerated in my shops, and here it spoke to me of a deep rooted problem.
I got out of my car and went for a walk to stretch my legs. As I did it gave me a chance to ruminate on their problems. And they had a few, of that there was no doubt.
Apart from the unforgivable act of not opening the doors to their business on time, they were also, in my opinion, handicapped by the name of their shop; Marlow Toys. Hardly inspiring given that a global toy megastore had opened up in the town a few months earlier. It had certainly affected their trade, judging by the sales figures I'd already seen.
To me, it seemed that the owners had given up instead of realizing that not everyone feels comfortable buying their toys at a big store. Some people actually feel overwhelmed and intimidated, and even confused by the staggering variety and choice on offer, and because of this, have a hard time seeing through the myriad of products. And that's especially true when they're searching for that special birthday or Christmas present -- that toy that will set them apart from the other gift givers. The small shop can also score big by offering a much more personalized service to their customers as well.
So instead of embracing the competition and making the most of other opportunities, the Marlow's had gone in the other direction. The way that could ultimately put them out of business. They'd retreated within themselves and had now committed the cardinal sin. They'd stopped paying us! And if there's one sure way to go down the road to rack and ruin it's to stop paying your biggest supplier.
It hadn't been all bad to start with. The founder of our company has made it his mission in life to support the local shopkeeper as much as he can against the relentless surge of the mega-global brands. He hates them with a passion, but there is only so far you can push his generosity. In the research I'd done, I'd seen that several payment agreements had been made to help them out of their predicament, but each one had failed due to their inability to adhere to them.
It was time to go and meet Mr. and Mrs. Marlow. I entered the shop, and my worst fears were confirmed. The inside of the shop was as bad as the exterior had suggested. A man walked out from the back to meet me. He wasn't particularly well dressed. Scruffy jeans and a rumpled, baggy tee shirt was not a good look.
I stepped forward with my hand outstretched. "Mr. Marlow... Frank Marlow?" He nodded his confirmation. "I'm Brad Clooney from Acme Toys. I think you were expecting me?"
He grunted a non-committal response as he looked me up and down and briefly shook my hand. He turned his head to one side as if looking over his shoulder and shouted out towards an open doorway behind him, "Darling, come and meet Mr. Clooney."
My eyes followed his, and then I swear I stopped breathing. A vision of majestic loveliness glided through the open doorway and into the shop. She was absolutely drop dead gorgeous in a MILF sort of way.
Okay, facially, she wasn't beautiful by any stretch of the imagination. For starters, her face was too long, she had a pointy chin, and her obviously beauty salon enhanced eyebrows were a bit too big for my taste. But her mouth was generous with nice kissable, pouty lips, so overall, she was attractive enough. Probably in her mid to late thirties, she had blue eyes and light brown, almost blonde hair that cascaded in waves down past her shoulders.
But it mattered not about her facial look because it was her body that caught your attention. Man, but she looked good! She was tall, slender, and VERY busty; and I couldn't tear my eyes away from her. And sadly, both she and her husband noticed I couldn't. The smile she was wearing, which had made her face light up, was gone in an instant. It was possibly because I tend to leer when staring at bodily perfection, and it can be unsettling for a woman given the depths of my ugliness.
"My wife, Georgia Marlow," the husband said, tersely. I dragged my eyes away from her and turned back to face him. I knew my face was bright red because I could feel my cheeks were burning. It was not a good start. I'd been reduced to a blubbering mess within a matter of seconds of meeting her.
She came to stand alongside her husband, glaring at me with a look that can only be described as open hostility. The contrast between the two of them couldn't have been greater. He was dressed like a slob, while she clearly still had standards. I couldn't help but take another quick scan of her body. She was wearing a cleavage revealing, yellow sundress that came down to her ankles, but had two slits at the front that ran up to mid thigh, thus allowing me to see her incredibly long, shapely legs.
The dress was tight enough to show that her hips were perfect, her waist was narrow, and her stomach was flat. But it was her boobs that garnered my main attention. Round and large, they were the perfect shape and size for her body. A pendant necklace hung from her neck and dangled enticingly just above the deep crevice that had formed between those twin globes of perfection.
"Yes... pleased to meet you," I managed to croak out. It was time to refocus, but fuck it was going to be hard. She had a body to die for!
"So what do you want?" Frank said, in a tone of voice that I immediately took a dislike to.
"I thought you knew," I countered brusquely, quickly getting my act together after my less than stellar start. "My understanding is that you were informed I would be visiting today?"
"Well, I suppose we were, but what we don't understand is WHY you've come to see us?" Frank said, this time with a touch of condescension in his voice.
As he spoke, his wife shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She was nervous, a fact that became even more obvious when she began chewing on her lower lip. Even though he was being all macho and almost confrontational with me, I could sense she was much more concerned about their plight.
"Well, to put it bluntly, you haven't paid Acme for some time now, despite us bending over backwards to help you. We've been patient, we've offered you easy payment terms, made several arrangements to help you, but sadly, you still seem to be incapable of making any payments to us whatsoever."
Now normally I wouldn't be quite so blunt, but Frank had pissed me off with his surly attitude. I was here to help, but he was being openly hostile, which annoyed me.
"Obviously, we can't allow this to carry on indefinitely. We want to help you, but you must meet us at least halfway," I added.
"Whatever," he snapped back. "Anyway, it's not convenient, I have somewhere else to be right now."
He turned and walked to the entrance door to the shop.
