Slave to Love

by Julie A. Richman

  And with a pressing of my lips to her forehead, I am off, down the driveway and revving the engine of the Lotus as I head down the street.

  My legs are shaking as I watch the tail lights of his car recede down my street. What the hell just happened? I think I just got ‘taken’.

  Closing the door, I walk back to my bedroom and pick up the necklace off my dresser. After fastening it around my neck, I sit down in the middle of my bed and grab my cell phone where I attempt to compose the perfect selfie of just cleavage, hair and the necklace. I want to show enough, but not too much. Sorry nipples, you don’t get featured in this shoot.

  The shot is perfect. Just enough to kill him. Not enough to end up on the internet.

  I send the text without any message. Just the picture.

  Don’t take it off.

  You’re very demanding of me for someone who has a girlfriend. Are you this way with her, too?

  I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.

  Oh really?

  Really.

  Your girlfriend in New York. How would she feel about our kiss tonight?

  That wasn’t just a kiss, Sierra. We inked a deal. And I don’t have a girlfriend in New York.

  That’s not what I’ve been hearing.

  Well, you’re hearing wrong.

  Oh really?

  Really.

  There is silence for a while because I don’t respond. Sitting in the middle of my bed, just staring at the phone, rereading his texts. Who is lying to me? Someone is lying to me.

  Sierra

  Yes

  I don’t have a girlfriend. I haven’t had anyone in my life for a year and a half.

  What happened to her?

  She wanted to get married.

  Is that a bad thing in his estimation? I wonder. Women who want to get married should be avoided at all costs?

  You’re not the marrying kind.

  She had bad taste in furniture ;). And I don’t know that I’m not the marrying kind, I just didn’t want to be married to her. Ah, Miss New Hope. The Sticks hater.

  Was that Maggie?

  No.

  That wasn’t Maggie? It was another one? How many are there?

  So, Maggie is another one?

  No. It’s not like that.

  Then what IS it like, Hale?

  Sierra, it’s not a text conversation.

  Oh God, that sounds serious.

  A face-to-face?

  Yes.

  I have a feeling this is going to upset me.

  It might. But not for the reasons you are thinking.

  You really have me off balance, Hale.

  That’s why I had to push you against a doorframe.

  He’s funny.

  Mmmmm

  :-) That was hot.

  It was.

  Sierra, I don’t want you to worry about anything. I’m not going to mess with you. Not personally or professionally. We never got to talk about Universal and the Polo Club. That first night was a huge eye-opener for me and I feel like shit for having put you through the things I’ve put you through. But I’m not like Bob.

  I have so much to lose, Hale.

  Your dignity is not something I’m looking to compromise. Tonight was the real thing, Sierra. Please believe that.

  I want to.

  I was out on Nantucket this weekend. Which I will tell you about when we’re together. I was heading back to New York, I have meetings there this week, but I diverted to Austin.

  To kiss me?

  Yes. To kiss you. I’m flying back to New York first thing in the morning, but I’ll come back to Austin next weekend.

  He flew to Austin to kiss me. Holy cow, he’s got my heart racing.

  OK

  Sierra

  Yes

  Are you OK?

  No. Yes. I don’t know.

  Am I okay? Seriously, dude? You’ve got me so that I don’t know whether I’m coming or going.

  I’ll be in Austin all next week.

  I’m in Chicago next week.

  Drats!

  Can you get out of it?

  No.

  I understand. OK, well we have the weekend. And then again when you get back. We need to coordinate schedules.

  Coordinate schedules. Did he just say that?

  Hale

  Yes

  I’m going to miss you.

  Ugh, I can’t believe I admitted that. I am such a loser. Why did I give him that power? He who talks first loses. Basic rule of sales.

  I miss you already, mermaid.

  Oh wow. Serious sigh. It wasn’t a power thing for him.

  Mermaid. He’s nicknamed me mermaid.

  Touching the gold chain around my neck, I’m giddy with love, lust, whatever it is that has me feeling fifteen years younger than I am. Laughing aloud, I get this idea to send him a picture every day that we’re apart showing the chain still around my neck … still chained.

  Oh Hale Lundström, I have a feeling resisting falling in love with you is a senseless waste of my energy.

  If only we can hold out until after his event when our direct business relationship ends. Even though he’s a client of my company, I’ll have more latitude to explore this thing, this wonderful, confusing crazy thing between us, after his event is over.

  It’s a little before lunch on Wednesday when Susan and Robyn knock on my door.

  “We heard the Universal event was pretty spectacular,” Susan uses that as an opener as they both migrate into my office, uninvited, and take seats.

  “It was definitely filled with Hollywood and political royalty.” I know I’m smiling thinking back on the day and all its unexpected surprises.

  “Was the entertainment good?” Robyn has her long, thick hair draped over one shoulder.

  “It was. The combination of people they brought together to honor the troops was outstanding. The whole program was very moving.”

  “Did you meet Monica and Beverly?” There’s snark in Susan’s tone and I can feel the competitiveness creeping into the conversation.

  “Yes, I did. They are a lot of fun, those two.” I see a look pass between Susan and Robyn in response to my comment, which makes it the perfect time to fuck with them. “I’m wondering if we should just move over everything to the Los Angeles office.”

  Robyn’s fair complexion turns a whiter shade of pale and she begins to stutter. “But aren’t you…”

  “I really hope you haven’t spent your commission check yet.” I take it a step further, looking at her, my demeanor totally serious.

  Susan stiffens and is about to launch into a heavy duty sales pitch, which I’m not up to stomaching, so I smile and say, “Ha-ha. Gotcha.”

  Grabbing her chest dramatically, “Oh Hale, you practically gave me a heart attack.” Robyn stands and comes around to my side of the desk. Latching onto one of my hands, she places it on her chest. “Feel that. Feel what you’ve done to me.”

  Taking my hand away, “Why don’t you grab a cold water out of the refrigerator. It might help.”

  “I think I just might.” Walking slowly so that I don’t miss her ass which is packed into a short, tight, shiny red dress, she bends over to grab a bottle from the fridge’s lowest shelf. From Susan’s vantage point, she can’t see anything; from mine, however, Robyn is treating me to more than a glimpse of her ass, as I’ve now got a full view of her commando recent Brazilian wax. Sitting back across the desk from me, she makes direct eye contact and smiles as she crosses her long legs.

  And I’m very glad with my military training that I’ve got great basic instincts. There’s not a chance in hell I’m going to fall for her game.

  It’s impossible not to see the irony in this. Here Robyn sits here across from me using every sexual weapon in her arsenal to try and ingratiate herself to me and get ahead in business. And halfway across the country, Sierra ripped me a new one, and rightly so, for potentially jeopardizing her career path, which she has diligently worked to forge.
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  Who would I want representing my company, championing the brand into which I’ve invested my blood, sweat and tears for years? Six months ago, I probably would have looked at Robyn and seen just bottom line numbers. No doubt this woman’s attributes could close a lot of deals.

  And I would have fucked her. On my desk. In front of the floor to ceiling windows. Against the wall. My hand would have been up her dress, fingering her under the table in meetings and business lunches. Just because I could.

  What an ass I was. On the road to being a full-fledged Bob Mannon, just easier for me because I’m younger, better looking and I am the CEO. I’m ashamed. How did I get so far off track of what is right and wrong? It was so cut and dry when I was in the service. And when did I become so damn entitled?

  After they leave, I call my personal assistant into my office.

  “Blair, have a seat.”

  She looks nervous. “Is everything okay, Hale?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine. I need to ask you something and I need you to be really honest with me. There’s a lot of people around me who will tell me what they think I want to hear, instead of the truth. I want the truth. Can you do that for me?”

  “I’ll try. Promise you won’t fire me?”

  Laughing, “It will probably get you promoted. My inner circle are my eyes and ears, Blair. How do you think I treat people? Be honest. Do not blow smoke up my ass and don’t tell me what you think I want to hear.”

  “I think you are very professional. You drive people hard, but not unfairly and I think for that they respect you.”

  “How about women? How do I treat women?”

  I can see the wheels spinning in her head as she’s trying to formulate an answer.

  “You don’t have to be politically correct. Just tell it to me from the gut.”

  “Okay,” she nods. “You’re a guy’s guy, Hale. Former military, CEO. Men respond to you. And you seem a lot more comfortable with guys. But it’s not that you treat women badly. You’re just more aloof with women. I don’t think the women here feel close to you.”

  “Okay, I can see that,” I take in her words. “Do you think women are given the same opportunity here at SpaceCloud as men?”

  Hesitating, she has silently given me my answer. “Hale, I’m your only female direct report and I’m your personal assistant.”

  “Pretty lopsided, huh?”

  “Yes, I think so,” she agrees. “If we’re going to be honest, it’s a boys’ club.” She’s mirroring my board’s assessment. “But I do think people genuinely like working here. It’s a great work environment, the culture is good.”

  “What could make it better?”

  “I know you like to keep yourself somewhat detached, you are the CEO. But I think you need to reach out a little more. Let loose, have some fun with everyone once in a while. Bond with your staff in a non-work environment.”

  “I can do that.”

  “I think the staff would love that. There’s a huge group going out tonight to Mexican Radio for Margarita’s and Mexican food. You should join us.”

  “I’ve got a conference call at 5 P.M., maybe I can meet up with everyone afterwards.”

  “Hale, the whole staff will really love it.”

  “Okay, I’ll try and make it.”

  Margaritas and Mexican food. That seems like an Austin, Texas thing, not a New York City thing. But it will be fun to shock the staff with an appearance.

  It’s a little after 6:30 P.M. when I enter the restaurant, Mexican Radio, in NoLita, the neighborhood just north of Little Italy. Entering the venue’s warm, inviting atmosphere, my eye is first caught by the colorful Mexican folk art throughout the restaurant, the neon pinks, greens and yellows, then my eye roves to the crowd of patrons in the bar area. At least twenty of them are on my staff. And it appears that Susan and Robyn have joined them.

  Tipping a Margarita glass at me, Blair uses her other hand to pull up the corners of her mouth, reminding me to smile. I laugh. Am I really that much of an ogre?

  “Boss, the rumors were true, we didn’t believe them,” Annette from accounting ribs me. “I said, ‘I’m not getting on a ferry back to Staten Island until he shows up’.”

  I laugh with her, “I bet these folks thought you were going to have a long night here.”

  I see Blair is watching me talk to three women from accounting and she gives me an approving nod.

  “You’re so handsome. Why aren’t you married?” Carmela from accounting asks. “My daughter is a real looker. She’s twenty-six and is a paralegal at a very good firm.”

  This is why I don’t do this, I think. I would kill to be running the SkyTrack over at Level 9 right now.

  “Carmela, she sounds way too good for me,” I say with a laugh.

  Out of the corner of my eye I see red, so I know Robyn is approaching.

  “What are you drinking?” Susan asks, as she pulls up right beside her colleague.

  “You know what, let me talk to the bartender to open a tab for everyone. What are you two drinking?” They join me over at the bar where the bottles are on recessed shelves under cobalt blue lights, adding to the restaurant’s warm and festive mood.

  “We’ll have two Margaritas rocks, one with salt, one without and I’ll take a bourbon Manhattan up. And I’d like to open a tab for everyone in this group over here.” Blair joins us, along with some of the programmers and Annette and her accounting crowd.

  “Isn’t he handsome,” Carmela starts in again. “Hale, do you have a girlfriend?”

  I’m looking at Blair as she makes a comical face at me. I never talk about my personal life with staff and today she called me aloof and detached. Scanning the faces as they wait for my answer, it occurs to me that these people give me the better part of their days and while I compensate them handsomely, provide good benefits and a pleasant work environment, I really do owe them more than that.

  “There is someone very special in my life.” It feels good to admit that truth.

  “Call her. Have her come join us,” someone suggests.

  “She doesn’t live here in New York. I split my time between here and Austin and she’s out there.”

  “You have no pictures of the two of you in your office,” Susan notes.

  Playing dumb, “You know you’re right. I need to change that.”

  “You need pictures of all of us. We need selfies with you,” Carmela suggests as she and Annette flank me, holding a cell phone high. “My daughter is going to be so jealous.” Carmela elbows me and I actually laugh. These women are hysterical.

  “What about your husband,” I tease, taking a sip of my Manhattan. The cherry is only partially submerged and just the thought of feeding it to Sierra makes my cock twitch.

  “Twist my arm, I need one of the two of us to share with my husband. He can’t get mad, you’re the boss and you pay for our medical insurance,” she laughs and holds the camera high, putting her cheek next to mine.

  I look over and Blair is shaking her head at me approvingly. Apparently I’m doing a good job of shedding the reputation of Mr. Aloof.

  “C’mon Annette, let’s get one for your husband.” I put an arm around her. “Tell him he needs to take you out for a night on the town or you’re going to be forced to run away with the boss.”

  “Who knew you were so funny, Mr. Lundström.” Annette clinks her beer stein to my Martini glass.

  “Mr. Lundström is my father.” I wink at her. “You need to call me Hale.”

  “Would you take our picture?” Robyn asks Annette. Handing over her cell phone, she changes places with the older woman and struts between my legs, taking a seat on my left thigh, where she crosses her legs with great flourish.

  I’m in shock. Literally in shock. We both know she’s commando and her bare, hairless everything is on my pants leg. Turning to look at me with a smile, she grabs the cherry from my Manhattan and holds it before her lips as Annette shouts, “Perfect” and then she pops it into her
mouth with a self-satisfied look.

  Practically pushing the woman from my lap, I catch Blair’s face in time to note her shocked look. With a deep exhale of breath to keep my cool, I place my molested drink on the bar, excuse myself and head toward the men’s room. With a glance over my shoulder, I motion for Blair to follow me.

  “Hale, Robyn is not wearing underwear.” Blair seems not quite sure how to react.

  “I know.” My face mirrors her reaction. “Do me a favor and run interference for me tonight. If you see her hanging on me, get in between. Or send Carmela and Annette over.”

  “Will do. Oh my God, you need to get those pants to the dry cleaner ASAP,” she laughs.

  “What are you kidding, I’m going to burn them. So, you really wanted me to go out tonight?”

  “You’re doing great, boss.” She pats my arm. “With the exception of having some nasty hoochie rubbed on your leg, you’re doing great.”

  “You can’t make this shit up,” I laugh, as we walk back to the bar and I insert myself into a group of techie boys.

  “Do you want me to grab your drink off the bar?” Blair points to my half full Manhattan still sitting on the blonde-wood bar.

  “That’s not going anywhere near my lips.” The thought of Robyn’s fingers in my drink pisses me off.

  “Why don’t I get you a fresh one,” Blair offers. “One that’s, ummm, untouched,” she laughs.

  Laughing, “Remind me to give you a raise.”

  “You really are a nice guy.” She smiles and heads to the bar to order me a new drink.

  Pouring over my reps sales reports, trying to decipher if the deals are real and will come to fruition before the end of the calendar year, or if they are fairy dust, just figments of the reps imaginations, is not my favorite activity. Several times a year, senior management tasks us with putting together the quarterly stack rankings, where I have to rank my sales team from top to bottom. This is an exercise everyone in management hates. Your bottom players are always vulnerable and usually this activity takes place prior to a layoff.