Never screw your boss! Figuratively or literally it will end up coming back to bite you in the ass. That was the hard lesson I had learned this year. I mulled that over in my pretty little head as I sat in the first class cabin on the flight from Houston to my home in New York City.
I had been a money manager with a big firm on the Street until February of this year. I had been successfully climbing the ladder of my career for five years. Sometimes the bodies of co-workers provided convenient stepping stones on my journey and I used them without remorse. They may be going down in flames, but I was soaring!
Of course a girl has to use all of her talents to advance in this super competitive age, and I was not unwilling to use the gifts God gave me to full advantage. I dressed for success! Sometimes that meant professional wear, sometimes looking like a slut. Whatever it took, I did it. Two years ago when my department head starting to show some interest in me I was not inclined to discourage him. When the interest went farther, into invitations to dinner and the show I willingly agreed to it. The relationship that developed over the next months was mutually beneficial, earning Perry some of the best sex of his life and me an inside track on the better clients. My mistake was starting to take it seriously.
Perry was single, attractive, rich and a lot of fun to be with. As time passed I forgot why I started going out with him and gradually began to fall in love. I started to fantasize about us as a couple. I began to have these little girl daydreams of being Mrs. Perry, complete with the house and picket fence. Fantasies are fine, until you try to make them come true.
Christmas last year I made the mistake of bring up the subject of "our relationship" with Perry. He responded in that way men have when they don't want to piss you off because they haven't been laid yet. We spent the rest of the day together and no matter how sweet and loving I was I could never garner a reciprocal I love you from him.
Suddenly our plans for the New Year changed. He had a family crisis that needed him. Then our ski trip needed to be changed. He had never been much for calling me, but now my calls to him went unanswered, intercepted by his assistant. Then the office grapevine had him seeing another woman from the legal department.
I confronted Perry. Actually I bushwhacked him in the corridor and demanded to know just what the hell was going on. After the usual male stammering the matter boiled down to, I was becoming too serious and possessive and that we both needed to take a break so we could get our friendship back in perspective.
I don't know what hurt more, my heart, my pride or my ambition for my career.
God I felt so stupid! How had I let that guy get to me that way? How had I become just another mutton headed girl looking for a man to take care of her?
Looking back now I can clearly see my little mind at work and the path that eventually led to my destruction. I progressed from hurt feelings to a broken heart. Anger followed, first at myself, then at him. It brewed into a maelstrom of resentment and bitterness. I think that at the time I was really crazy. My next actions sure support that idea.
I was not going to let that son-of-a-bitch get away with it! He broke my heart, used me and for all I knew was in the process of stopping my flourishing career with the firm. In a fit of brilliance I struck on the perfect way not only to get even but to do some permanent damage to his bright prospects at the company.
I logged into his computer and very effectively pronounced 82 of his prime clients deceased!
You can imagine what it looked like when it hit the fan! Buy and sell orders were ignored, drafts on multimillion-dollar accounts were declined, accounts were frozen and best of all condolence letters were sent to the next of kin. God it was beautiful! Except......I forgot one thing.
Every password computer transaction is recorded, tracked, filed away, backed up and permanently stored. This is for the SEC and for protection from lawsuits by irate clients. It also was my undoing.
The office was in a total uproar. Clients were pulling accounts, threatening to sue and demanding explanations from the firm. Everyone, except yours truly, was in recovery and full kiss ass mode. Perry was frantic and I was in glory. Then two very large and very unfriendly security guards appeared at my office.
I think I handled it well. I was stunned that my game was uncovered, but I confronted the branch president and Perry with grace, "How do you like being fucked!"
I carried what was left of my job and precious career out in a cardboard box minutes latter.
For years I had made a good income and for the last couple a great one. I'm afraid that I wasn't very smart about saving. I liked my lifestyle. A $6000 a month apartment, a nice car with payments to match, good furniture, art and lots of clothes ate up whatever I made each month. In the beginning I wasn't too concerned, thinking I would soon find another job. I realized after the first few refusals that I was being blackballed. I finally applied at a temp agency and there learned the firm had indeed put the word out.
I pawned my mink, then my Rolex, then other jewelry, art and even furniture in an attempt to keep my apartment and car. It was all futile and by the summer I was on the street looking for a place to stay. New York is hard enough to find a decent apartment in, but unemployed and with bad credit it is impossible.
I called my college roommate, Marianne. She agreed to take me in as long as I didn't mind the couch. At that point my other alternative was the shelter, or, God Forbid, going back to the Midwest and MOM!
Marianne was wonderful. She treated me like a sister. Over the years since graduation I had kept minimal contact with her, and then usually only to brag about how well I was doing. She never threw that back up to me.
Her walkup was small but cozy and the couch wasn't too uncomfortable. It was only going to be for a couple of weeks, until I found something to support myself.
A couple of weeks became several, then a month, then two. Marianne was easy to live with and never made me feel like an intruder. The only time that I felt like a problem to her was when her boyfriend came over. In the small apartment there was no privacy to speak of.
Marianne was an enthusiastic lover and Dale was totally unconcerned about my being there. They didn't actually fuck in the tiny living room in front of me, but some nights it came close. Once in the bedroom they gave no quarter and fucked with abandon and noise.
In the mornings Marianne would often come into the front rooms in just her panties, with Dale in close pursuit in just his boxers. I would feign sleep as they made coffee and played a little grab ass. When they retreated back to her room I would very noisily get up.
Often during the night one or the other of them would pad naked into the kitchen for a snack and through shielded eyes I would follow the bobbing of a hard cock or the jiggle of pert breasts across the room. I was embarrassed. It wasn't because I'm a prude, but because of how horny it made me feel. For six months I had been without sex and since I had been at Marianne's I didn't even dare masturbate. Sometimes I get a little load when I cum and I couldn't stand it if she caught me at it.
I finally was able to find work as a fill in waitress. It wasn't much but at least I could contribute a little to my own support. We settled into a routine, I was approaching acceptance of my new station in life and Marianne never once indicated she was ready for me to leave.
Early in November we were sitting at the table enjoying some take out from the restaurant where I was working when Marianne brought up the subject that would change my life again.
"Honey," she began in a small voice, "I came across an ad today in the Village you might be interested in. Now don't get me wrong, you can stay here forever if you want to, but I thought this might be something you could handle."
She had me intrigued. The Village was an alternative paper full of ads from all sorts of shady businesses and with personals that would make you blush. What in the world would be in it there I might find suitable?
I reached across the table and took the paper from her and read;
Very Rich Single Man
