“Maybe you should intern as a book editor. I could help you get started. I have a number of connections in the publishing world.”
“That’s sweet, but I have much bigger plans.”
She picked up a piece of bread and neatly spread butter across it. She slowly ate a tiny amount as she looked across at me. “So tell me, do you ever plan on being the novelist you dreamt of being before you sold your soul to the corporate world?”
“How do you even know that I ever wanted to be a novelist?”
“It’s an easy deduction. No one who has such a marvelous collection of books doesn’t dream one day of writing a great novel. Before I left your place I took a tour of your library.”
“And let me guess, you have read all the books in my library?”
“Not all, but most. I haven’t ventured nearly as far as you have into the Russian novelists. Maybe when I get a little time, if you don’t mind me marking up your books, I’ll get around to reading them.”
“Just tell me when you’re ready and I will gladly buy you the books.”
“Don’t like people messing around with your books?”
“Exactly!”
“Okay, I will make you a list and you can buy them for me. Penguin is my preferred publisher when it comes to translations.”
She put another piece of bread in her mouth. “I bet you have some great stories about growing up in the Bronx. You should write them down before you get too old and forget them.”
“I don’t expect my memory to go anytime soon. At least, I hope not.”
“You can never be too vigilant.”
“Is that why you write down every thought you have?”
“Not every thought, Joseph, just the important ones.”
“Can you please not call me Joseph? My mother used to call me Joseph when I was in trouble. It feels disrespectful to her memory.”
“I didn’t mean any disrespect.”
“I know you didn’t. How could you possibly know that my mother used to call me Joseph when I misbehaved?”
The waitress brought our food and we ordered more drinks. After dinner we went back over to the bar and drank some more, then went back to my place, listened to Duke Ellington, and after more drinks we were finally in my bedroom, taking off each other’s clothes. I was determined not to have a repeat of last night. I didn’t care what it took, but it couldn’t be thirty seconds and out. All those tricks like thinking about God and damnation didn’t work, at least not for me. I would take the safest course, extended foreplay. Kiss, lick, bury my head between her breasts, but keep that brainless prick out of the greatest source of pleasure for as long as possible.
We kissed for what seemed like an eternity but it was probably about a minute. I moved slowly down her body, kissing and licking what seemed like every inch of her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. She seemed unusually quiet, but I didn’t think anything of it, at least not at first. Around her breasts, I started to feel a little uneasy. I figured I would at least get some sort of moan or groan from her, but she was silent. I looked up and saw her eyes closed, which wasn’t so unusual, but her breathing was steady, no panting or puffing. She resembled a kitten asleep, and as it turned out that’s exactly what she was … asleep!
Last night’s critique was tough enough to hear, but this was downright insulting. It’s not like I ever considered myself a Casanova, but this made me feel like a young, inexperienced boy. Like I was having an out-of-body experience. I thought of waking her, but that would make me look like a pathetic fool — or continuing with the downward progression and finishing what we had started, but that made me feel like some sort of rapist. I rolled over, closed my eyes, and quietly wept as my manhood was once again diminished.
She was gone the following morning by the time I woke up. It was eerie she was so quiet that she never disturbed me. Then again, I didn’t know what time she left. I did a short search of the house to make sure she was really gone then showered and got ready for work. I picked up my wallet off the kitchen table and found a note. She thanked me for a wonderful night and listed about thirty Russian novels that I had promised to get her. Many of the names I’d never heard of and pronouncing their names was out of the question. She said it was no rush, but she would greatly appreciate it if I could get them as quickly as possible. She borrowed another fifty dollars, which meant that she owed me a hundred. She said she hoped I wasn’t charging interest, because there was a real good chance that it might take her a long time to pay me back. She left her work phone number and said I could call her anytime, even if it was to just hear her voice. She signed the note with a love you. I folded the paper and stuffed it in the inside pocket of my suit jacket.
Chapter Four
I sat on the edge of Maggie’s desk. She was my faithful and trusted assistant, who had been with me for years. We had an easy relationship. She understood me, and, even though we were professional colleagues, we were also friends. We confided in each other and sort of looked after each other.
Born and raised in southern California, Maggie was a traditional girl for her time. She had a killer body, a lovely face, and was able to wiggle her nose like Elizabeth Montgomery on Bewitched. We had a number of wild nights back when we first started working together, which usually ended with us stretched out on my office couch, half-naked and stinking from liquor, marijuana, and sex. Before I had a chance to seriously fall for her she married some rich guy, popped out a couple of children, got divorced, married a different rich guy, got divorced again — and all of this before she was thirty. She never lost the killer body, but she had lost some of the shine in her eyes. Maggie was the one person I could talk to and trust that it wouldn’t become office gossip.
I was getting ready to talk to her about Nancy when a pang of embarrassment and male vanity got in the way of my confession.
“What is it, Joe?” she asked a few times before I shook my head and mumbled, “Nothing. It’s nothing at all.”
Maggie informed me that Jack had called a meeting for ten o’clock in the conference room. Jack was the owner of the firm and every month or so he would call a meeting during which nothing of any importance was ever discussed. He had to remind the rest of us that he was an active player in the business.
I handed Maggie the list of books Nancy wanted and asked if she would call the local bookstores to see if, by some miracle, they stocked the books on the list. She could go pick the books up after lunch, drop them off, and take the rest of the day off. I gave her my credit card and told her to buy something nice for the kids and herself as a perk.
I went into my office and looked at the notes on the whiteboard for a media blitz aimed at specific targets. “Cool is lighting a cute girl’s cigarette before she has a chance to light it herself.” “Cool is lighting up after intensely satisfying sex.”
Maggie knocked on the door and handed me a message. “Nancy. She says it’s urgent.” I crumbled the piece of paper and flipped it into the trash. Maggie stood by, wiggling her cute nose and smiling.
“Don’t you have work to do?” I asked.
“Yeah, but it can wait.” She sat on the edge of my desk and crossed her legs in a seductive manner. “Just weighing my options now that I’m single again.”
“Is that so?”
“Nancy seemed a little unhinged, to put it mildly. Before plunging into that nightmare, you might want to look at a more stable and reliable choice …”
“And is that choice you?”
“It could be. We did have a really good thing going for a while.”
“Yeah, and then you ran off and got married, popped out a few kids, got divorced, got married again …”
“Okay, I don’t need a thorough rehashing of my bad choices. A girl has to secure her future before it overtakes her. But my future at the moment is fairly stable.” She reached over and kissed me, and I instinctively kissed her back. “You see, the sparks are still there.” She winked and started walking toward the door. “Just
something to think about, Joe.” She closed the door behind her and I looked back at the board. Suddenly I wished for a cigarette, and I didn’t even smoke.
I waited a few minutes before calling Nancy. I could feel Maggie’s eyes on me and I didn’t want her to think that Nancy had gotten under my skin, even though that had definitely happened. Maybe Nancy had discovered a pill that cured the disease she was suffering from. Bitch-a-cillin? One could only hope.
I finally returned her call. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, I just wanted to add two more books to the list.”
“That’s what was urgent?”
“I’m a fanatic when it comes to details. Who was the dimwit who answered the phone?”
I didn’t reply. Maggie, above all else, was my closest friend.
“Are you fucking her?” Nancy asked derisively. I took a deep breath and replied harshly, “Don’t call back.” I hung up the phone determined to hold my ground.
I called Maggie back into the office and told her to forget about ordering the books. I sat down on the couch and looked across at the board as Maggie sat beside me. “Trouble in paradise?” she asked.
“Nothing that can’t be fixed simply enough.” I continued to look at the board as she comfortably leaned back. “Maggie, do you ever think that what we do here is totally immoral?”
“We’re not breaking any laws, and if we don’t do it some other firm will.”
“What I have up there is targeting young Blacks and Latinos already born with two strikes against them. How would you feel if I was targeting your children with an addictive substance that would eventually cut their lives short?”
“How about we go out tonight for a few drinks and dinner? We haven’t done that in a long time. I just have to be home by eight to tuck the kids in.”
“That would be great. Make a reservation. Any place but the Smokehouse.”
She got up and looked down at me, “Do I still get to take off after lunch and buy myself and the kids something?”
“I don’t see why not. How about we meet in the lobby at five?”
“Sounds great! Thank you, Joe.” She blew me a kiss and for some reason I couldn’t help sensing that Maggie was stoned. Her eyes looked cloudy, and she seemed strangely disconnected. I shook my head and figured it was just Nancy inside my head.
The top-level executives — nine men and one woman — sat around the conference table. Some brought pads and pens with them just to look good, not for a moment expecting anything out of our fearless leader’s mouth to be worth writing down. Jack entered the room pulling up his pants and muttering something incomprehensible. He was medium height, balding, quite affable, and always unkempt. He was proud of the work we were all doing and the company was on sound financial footing. He envisioned the firm expanding to Chicago and New York and eventually to the United Kingdom. He had been saying that for the last six years while the only thing expanding was his waistline with each new divorce. The truth was there was no need to expand. Business came to us from throughout the United States and overseas and with all the technological advances, most of our business was handled through video conference calls.
I imagine Jack saw himself as another JP Morgan. He had started the company over thirty years ago and for the longest time he bowed to no one. He was behind some of the most successful advertising bonanzas in history, making housewives swoon over the latest kitchen and household appliances. University classes were taught based solely on Jack’s techniques, but the good life eventually got to him — too much virgin pussy, coke, booze, and a string of nasty divorces, but, unlike other successful businessmen brought down by their vices, Jack was smart enough to hire the very best person in the advertising world to pick up the slack. He hired me, and the company was doing better than ever. Sadly, a sizable chunk of seaside property along the California coast was being handed over in each divorce settlement.
The meeting ended on a high note with Jack chanting, “We are the champions! We are the champions!” It was quite moving except for the fact that he’d forgotten to zip up his pants that morning. And since Jack wasn’t wearing any underwear, we all got a firsthand look at something National Geographic would have censored.
I made it all the way to the door of the conference room before Jack put a hand on my shoulder and led me into his office. He closed the door, took out two glasses and a bottle of thirty-six-year-old scotch, and poured us each a double.
“To pussy, my boy. To pussy!” He toasted and quickly refilled our glasses.
“Heard you were seen having dinner with a knockout blonde two nights in a row.”
“Yeah, but it’s not going any further than it has,” I replied as I tried to get a handle on the situation.
“Yeah, that’s what I originally said about every bitch I eventually married. It’s not going any further.” He raised his glass and we toasted again and shot down the doubles.
“Recently, I discovered a treasure trove of pussy that won’t cost you every hard-earned dollar you make. The best I’ve ever had and such variety you can’t even imagine.” Jack reached down into his desk and took out a photo album and handed it to me. “Go ahead, open it. Discover what every successful man can have without the shackles of a marriage license attached.”
I opened the book and looked down at a variety of young beautiful girls: Russian, Spanish, Asian, Latina, Italian, and American.
“Niiice, right?” Jack delightfully remarked.
“Very nice. What are they, high-class hookers?”
“Not just high-class hookers, the very best. Not just beautiful, but really smart. A couple of nights ago I had an English fox reciting Shakespeare for me while she was riding my cock. Didn’t understand a word she was saying, but God did it turn me on. What you have in front of you, Joe, is the answer to all your problems with women. Fuck and forget, fuck and forget … no strings attached. A thousand a night and whatever else you might want to throw in, like dinner and drinks before you get down to the serious business. Variety galore. I mean, look at those babes. Who needs a nagging wife — who in the end is going to take you for everything — when a simple grand a night will satisfy your needs without the worry of having to satisfy her needs?”
“I must admit it makes sense, Jack. And in the long run it’ll save you a fortune.”
“I’m not trying to tell you what to do, Joe, but I don’t want you to fall victim to the same shit as I’ve been, over and over. Love is a load of crap women thought up to shackle us and drain every last ounce of a man’s dignity and hard-earned cash.”
“This last divorce really hurt, huh?”
“They all hurt, but this one seriously made me realize what a sucker I’ve been. I could own half of Malibu if it wasn’t for these greedy broads I married, who never contributed a fucking penny and walked away with fortunes. You’ve been such an asset to this company, Joe. Your first ten girls are on me.”
“No, Jack. I wouldn’t feel right about that.”
“Don’t worry about feeling right. I know you’re one of those literary guys who actually reads books. Maybe that English girl I was with a couple of nights ago is available.”
“No, not the English chick. I mean, nothing against English women, but they’re so pasty it’s as though they don’t have blood running through their bodies.”
“I never thought about that, but you’re right. She was in serious need of a spray tan, but I was so turned on with her athleticism that I really didn’t notice. She did a 360 while riding my cock!”
“Holy shit! That is amazing.”
“I ejaculated so hard she actually fell backward. But the best are the Russian chicks, so young and pure looking; for an extra hundred on the side they’ll let you explore every inch of their bodies. Last night I had a Russian and I can still smell her scent all over me. My dick felt like a little Marco Polo, discovering new worlds, entering the heart of darkness while my hand played with her pussy and the other hand cupped her voluptuous tits. A littl
e dirty, I admit, but nothing a little soap and water didn’t wash away.”
I felt the shots of scotch coming back up and immediately reached for a beer and downed it.
“Are you okay?” Jack asked.
“Yeah! Just needed something to cool the fever in my mouth.”
We had a couple more shots and a few beers and then I left his office. He insisted that I take the album with me. He already had the whole weekend planned and paid for, one hundred percent Russian. He said he wouldn’t mind if I wanted to come over to his place for a little sample. The girls wouldn’t mind; it’s extra cash for them. I told him I was planning on working the whole weekend, but I really appreciated the invitation and would give it some thought.
I stumbled back to my office. Maggie was already gone. She must have decided that since she had the afternoon off she might as well take an early lunch. She’d left a note on my desk that read, “She called eleven times! Urgent! Good luck. See you at five.”
Chapter Five
I took my jacket off and fell facedown onto the couch. I woke up at four-thirty and looked out my office window to find that everyone was already gone. On Fridays, everyone left at four and went down to the bar at Mo’s Restaurant, a couple of buildings over. I took a bottle of mouthwash and a toothbrush and toothpaste out of my desk and walked to the bathroom. I threw cold water on my face and rinsed and cleaned my mouth for an extended period of time. Considering that the only thing I’d had all day was four shots of scotch and a few beers, I was feeling fairly well.
I walked back to my office and thought I heard laughing down the hall. I didn’t think anything of it and placed my things with Jack’s album into my desk. When I put on my jacket and walked back out, the laughter continued. It was women’s laughter and it was coming from Jack’s office. I couldn’t help myself as I slowly walked toward his door. It was closed but I could easily see in through the slits in the blinds. Three dark-haired beauties no older than twenty-two danced around Jack dressed in traditional Russian Khokhloma dresses and Siberian hats. Jack was lying naked on his desk with an unlit cigar in his mouth and a bottle of scotch beside him. The girls would occasionally stop, all at once, and pull up the front of their dresses and then turn and wiggle their naked butts in Jack’s face.
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