by C. C. Morian
When the meeting broke up, Bob and Lauren were alone in the conference room. “You did pretty good,” said Bob.
“Pretty good? They seemed to like it.”
“Mostly,” Bob agreed. “But you almost lost Tom at one point. You got sidetracked on the IT aspect.”
“I thought—”
“It was fine, but I think you need to prep differently for these meetings. You have the potential, and certainly your ideas were good, otherwise I wouldn’t have let you present them. But there’s more to getting something done in business besides good ideas. You have to be able to communicate effectively.”
Lauren was a little miffed, but on the other hand Bob had given her a chance, and he had also given her credit, something another boss might not have done. “Do you have any suggestions?”
“You might start with a few role plays.”
“Role plays?” For some reason Lauren’s mind jumped to sex, like Bob was suggesting something very much not work related.
“Yes, of course. Pretending you are someone else.” Bob hesitated, and again Lauren thought about a sexual role play, was that what he was implying? But Bob went on, “Like you are one of the members of the audience, listening to the pitch, thinking of the questions you would ask.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Is there any other kind of role play?” asked Bob.
And now Lauren was sure Bob was teasing her. She blushed, but quickly recovered, maybe Bob was just testing her to see how she performed under a different kind of pressure.
“There’s also the role reversal role play, where the subordinate gets to tell the senior person what to do. Just to see if she—” Lauren chose the word she carefully—“would know how to be in control.”
“I see,” said Bob, nodding. “Although I’d say that would require an acceptance by everyone involved of their positions. Another benefit of role plays is that they often highlight other aspects of the supervisor subordinate position.” Bob hesitated, perhaps waiting for Lauren to respond. When she didn’t, he went on, in a different tone. “In any event, you showed enough promise here today to make some additional special training worthwhile. I’d be willing to spend the time. Are you up for that?”
Lauren couldn’t help herself, she replied, “Are you?”
Bob greeted her with a little smile. “I see you can think fast on your feet. What else can you do?”
Now Lauren was sure Bob was flirting with her. She liked it, but she wanted to be careful. The last thing she needed was to come across like Gina. “I have quite a few skills,” she said, choosing her words carefully.
“Maybe we should discuss this over dinner,” said Bob. “Professionally, of course.”
“Of course,” said Lauren, knowing that Bob could have easily discussed it right now, or later in his office.
“When are you available?”
“I’m at your disposal,” said Lauren, with a completely straight face, she was proud of herself. “How about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow I have another engagement. How about Thursday?”
“Fine.”
“Good. Do you like Italian?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll make a reservation at seven. Perhaps we should just meet there.”
“That makes sense,” said Lauren.
Lauren suspected Bob didn’t want to be seen leaving the building with her, not wanting to get gossiped about hitting on someone in the office.
Her suspicions were confirmed when Bob dropped a note on her desk the next day as he walked past, not even looking at her. The note just had the restaurant name and an address. It was located across town, where they wouldn’t be likely to run into anyone from the office.
Lauren smiled when she read it, and had to force herself not to gloat whenever she saw Gina. Lauren had a sinister thought of putting the dinner date on the company calendar so Gina would see it.
On Thursday, Lauren stressed a little about what to wear, she couldn’t exactly come into the office with a little black dress. Nor did she want to change in the office, otherwise Bob, who still might be feeling her out, or worse, maybe testing her in some strange way, would be suspicious. And Gina would certainly notice and wonder what was up. Still, Lauren spent some extra time on her hair that morning, wore a dress instead of a skirt, although she toned it down with blazer, a look she’d never used but had seen in a fashion magazine. The result was better than she expected, the dress was feminine, but the jacket kept it professional. She took a chance on a shorter length dress and slightly higher heels, although still nothing like what Gina wore.
As soon as Lauren arrived at the restaurant she was sure Bob had something else on his mind other than work. It was a small, sexy place, dark and sensual. She gave her name to the maitre’d, who said, “Yes, right this way.”
He led Lauren to the back of the restaurant to a very private booth, where Bob was already waiting. Bob stood up, and she held out her hand for a professional handshake. Bob smiled as he gripped her hand, his fingers lingering just a heartbeat longer than one would expect.
Lauren noticed that Bob was still in the same suit he wore to work, and she was glad she hadn’t changed. Still, he looked good, as always, his tie impeccable. The man knew how to dress.
“I took the liberty of ordering some wine,” said Bob. “But if you don’t drink, or don’t like wine, we can get you something else.”
“Wine is fine,” said Lauren.
Bob poured for both of them. “Normally, the sommelier insists on doing this,” said Bob. “But I’m a regular here, and they don’t mind.” He handed Lauren her wine and raised his glass in a toast. “To your skill development,” he said, his eyes twinkling.
Lauren loved the way Bob chose his words, the gentle repartee, everything with two meanings. She hadn’t done that for a while, she was a little out of practice, her last few boyfriends more interested in physical rather than verbal gymnastics. “To a learning opportunity,” she replied.
They both drank, Bob’s eyes on Lauren over the wineglass, his look so piercing that Lauren felt herself blush. Fortunately, the waiter appeared. Lauren was surprised when he started speaking Italian to Bob, perhaps reciting the specials.
Bob listened, and then partway through he stopped the waiter. “I’m sorry, Lauren, I realize you probably don’t speak Italian.”
“You must know this place well, why don’t you just order for me?” It was an old trick, but it usually worked, making the guy feel extra important. But Lauren was impressed, listening to Bob speak what sounded like perfect Italian to the waiter.
When the waiter left, Lauren asked, “Where did you learn to speak Italian?”
“My family is from Italy, I spoke it growing up, but forgot most of it. But I did an overseas assignment for a few years for my prior company, and it came back quickly.”
“I’d love to go to Italy,” said Lauren. “I’ve heard the art is amazing.”
“It is. I’m sure you’ll get to go.” Bob took a sip of wine. “I’m sure you can do anything you set your mind on.”
“About that,” said Lauren. “You mentioned something about some extra preparation for meetings.”
“Yes.” Bob proceeded to give Lauren some step by step advice on how to present her ideas, and also how to read the body language of her audience.
Lauren felt like she should be taking notes, and was actually getting a lot out of what Bob was saying, her mind shifting from this might be a date to this is a work meeting after all. Maybe Bob was just a little flirty. Still, he could have covered all this in the office.
When the food came, a veal dish that Lauren didn’t know but was delicious, the conversation turned away from work, and maybe with the help of the wine, Lauren loosened up a bit, talking about her aspirations. She realized she had told Bob much more about herself than he had shared, maybe she had babbled on, so she tried to shift the conversation back to him. Bob demurred, and the talk turned back to work and Lauren’s skill developm
ent.
The time passed quickly, Lauren still not sure if this was a date or a business meeting. When the waiter offered desserts, Lauren declined, thinking of her waistline and how much time she’d have to spend in the gym to work off the dinner and wine.
Bob said, “Would you like an after dinner drink?” His eyes held hers.
They had polished off two bottles of wine, and it was a work night. Maybe this was another test Bob was giving her. Or maybe he wanted the evening to shift to something more personal. But even if that were the case, Lauren didn’t want to rush things. “I’ve had more than enough,” said Lauren.
Bob hesitated. Lauren wondered if she had missed something, but Bob signaled for the check. As he was signing the bill, without looking up at her, he said, “I hope you found this helpful. If you want, we can do it again next week.”
“I’d like that,” said Lauren.
Outside the restaurant, Lauren had that awkward moment, not sure what she should do. Would Bob expect a kiss?
“Let me get you a cab,” he said.
Bob held the door for her when he had hailed a cab, and Lauren was so intent on getting in and dealing with her briefcase she didn’t even get to shake Bob’s hand or anything. “Next week, then,” said Bob, and closed the door.
The cab drove off, and Lauren turned in the seat, but Bob had already disappeared.
The next week, Lauren and Bob had a reprise of the dinner date. A different restaurant, the conversation mostly about work, but overshadowed with a subtle, and sometimes not so subtle, sexual overlay. Aside from the teasing, which Lauren could still have been imagining, Bob was the perfect gentleman.
They didn’t discuss their dinner meetings at work, Bob once again just dropping a note with the name of the restaurant on Lauren’s desk.
Lauren found herself thinking about Bob more and more. She really hadn’t learned much about him at the dinners, he was very adept at getting her to talk more about herself. She wanted to get to know him better. He was so confident, so sure of himself, and she loved how much he knew about food and travel and even business.
Near the end of the third dinner, and after a fourth glass of wine, the last one to get up her courage, Lauren couldn’t take the suspense any longer. “So, Bob, I really appreciate all the time you’ve spent with me. I’ve learned so much. But I can’t help but asking, do you do this with everyone? I don’t know how you’d have the time!” She tried to make it into a bit of a joke.
“I don’t do it with everyone. Just with those I see with a high potential. It’s like an investment, put some time in now, get a good return later. What’s good for you is good for the company, and good for me.”
“Oh, I see.” Lauren was disappointed. So it was about work after all.
Bob went on. “I think of it as sowing seed, you have to do a lot of that to get something good to grow.” He said it with a completely straight face.
Lauren couldn’t help but thinking about sex, Bob’s comment about sowing seed making her think of something really decadent. She squirmed in her seat. Just when she thought she had Bob figured out, he went and said something like that, with two meanings, hinting about sex. Or was she just imagining it?
Lauren had to find out. “I have to admit, I’ve enjoyed these dinners.” She took another sip of her wine, talking over the rim of the glass, trying to sound matter of fact. “And not just for the business talk.”
“I have as well, Lauren.”
Damn, he’s not making it easy. “Maybe sometime we could work on those role plays you mentioned.”
“Yes, I think you might be ready for that,” said Bob. “We can do that when we have another report to present.”
Lauren was ready to give up. She must have misread Bob totally. But she knew she’d kick herself later if she didn’t give it one more try. “Okay. So maybe the next time we have dinner, we can skip the work talk?”
Bob seemed to consider her words carefully. “What are you asking?”
“You know what I’m asking.”
Bob shook his head. “That’s a little risky. For both of us. Not that I don’t find you very attractive.”
Finally, thought Lauren. Bob had said something direct about his interest in her. Unless he was just trying to let her down easy. . . “Risky?”
“You know, people talking. You don’t want to get a reputation, especially since you have such great skills. You don’t want people ever wondering if your next promotion—and I’m sure you’ll have many—was because you were sleeping with the boss.”
“I think you’ve already taken some of that risk, just seeing me after work,” said Lauren.
“And that’s why I was so careful about it. I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but people could get the wrong idea. If we had these sessions in the office, people would talk, wondering why we were spending so much time together. Other employees would get jealous.”
Lauren polished off the last of her wine. “Forget that I mentioned it.” She wasn’t going to beg.
Bob reached out and put his hand over hers. “Please don’t be upset. I have really enjoyed these dinners and our time together. And you are right, it’s more than business for me. You are smart and fun to be with. But I just can’t risk it.”
Lauren was angry, but feeling Bob’s hand on hers, the first real intimate gesture he had made, mollified her. More than that, she loved his touch. She left her hand under his as she replied, “I didn’t think you were the kind of guy that was afraid of a little risk.”
Now Bob’s eyes twinkled. “As you know from your business training, there are two sides to the risk equation. What you could lose, and what you could gain.”
Lauren turned her hand over so their fingers meshed. “I could make it worth the risk.”
“I don’t know,” said Bob. “That would take a lot.”
“Give me a chance,” said Lauren, giving Bob’s hand a squeeze. “I’ve got a lot to give.”
“Let me think about it,” said Bob.
Lauren was on pins and needles all week. Now that she had made up her mind to really go after Bob, she didn’t want to fail, that’s just the way she was. This had all started as a way to show Gina she could win a man, a man Gina couldn’t have. But Lauren really did like Bob. She liked her job too, and didn’t want to mess that up, but she was young. What was the worst case? She and Bob would fall in love, and one of them would have to change companies. Or maybe not even, other people had met at this company and were still there after getting married.
Even if that didn’t happen, she would have beaten Gina.
One morning Lauren came in to work and there was a sticky note on her desk. All it said was, “OK.” She glanced toward Bob’s office, and he was looking at her, and nodded, then turned back to his desk.
Lauren smiled all day. Even Gina couldn’t get her down.
Friday night. Bob was picking Lauren up at her apartment, a real date. She had spoken to him only once that week, when she had gone into his office to drop off a report. After looking it over, he asked, “Are you available Friday evening?” When Lauren had replied she was, Bob said, “I’ll pick you up at eight, if that is good with you.”
Now, getting ready, Lauren felt great. No more having to dance around the conversation, this was the real deal. She could just go out and be herself, have fun, she hadn’t had a real date in forever. Her last boyfriend, once the short dating period was over, just wanted sex. The sex was okay, but she needed more than that.
Tonight she also could wear something more appropriate for a date. Given Bob’s inclination for nice restaurants, Lauren wanted to dress up a little more than she did for the office. She chose a form fitting dress with a low, but not too low, cut, just enough to show the top of her nice cleavage. Stockings instead of pantyhose, stockings always made her feel sexier. Nice pumps. And no jacket. If Bob wanted to look at her breasts, she was fine with that.
Lauren wasn’t surprised when she saw that Bob was driving a big BMW sedan. H
e held the door open for her, something no one other than Bob had done for a long time.
“You look beautiful,” said Bob.
Lauren smiled. “So do you.” Bob was in a suit as usual, but this one seemed trimmer, a little more chic, the tie a luxurious tone of red. He had also changed from his office attire, telling Lauren he considered the dinner special.
Inside the car, she melted into the lush seat. “I could fall asleep in this.”
“I hope that isn’t your plan,” Bob laughed.
“Not yet.”
The dinner was wonderful. A quiet French restaurant that Lauren had read about but had never been to. There weren’t even any prices on the menu. Everything was in French, and once again she let Bob order for her. He spoke English to the waiter, who had a French accent, and after the waiter left Lauren teased Bob about not speaking French.
“Not the language,” he responded with a smirk.
It went that way the entire night. Again Lauren tried to glean a little more about Bob, but he managed to keep turning the conversation back to her, without seeming secretive.
“So tell me something crazy you’ve done,” Bob asked at one point.
“Crazy how?”
“Just whatever you think is crazy.”
Lauren considered. What to share? “Well, at one point in college, me and my girlfriend. . .” She let it hang, just to get Bob thinking about something illicit, “. . .we skipped out in the middle of an exam and went shopping.”
“Hmm. I assume you aced the exam anyway?”
“It was an easy class. We had three hours and only needed about forty five minutes to answer the questions.”
“Okay, not bad, what else?”
“I answered one, your turn.”
“Why do you assume I did crazy things?”
“I didn’t, I just—.” Lauren bit her lip. Was this some kind of test? Was Bob really traditional and straight laced, and making sure he wasn’t getting involved with a psycho?