It was a Saturday morning, ten minutes to eight o'clock. She was dressed in a lovely swishy silk skirt, ankle-length black boots, and a floral print Gypsy top which showed off her bare, creamy shoulders. Her iridescent auburn hair cascaded over those shoulders. Nobody was more beautiful than her that morning. As she entered the building, her 5'9 figure swayed temptingly but also gracefully. Smiles greeted her all around. The warm-hearted girl that she was, she returned the greetings with a smile that drew people to her luscious lips. It was still morning, and she had everyone all worked up already.
"Let me walk you over to his table, miss Blume," the concierge said as she entered the breakfast room. This was her umpteenth time meeting The Boss at Eggs and Flowers. As she made her way to the table, she was warmly greeted by the staff. She nodded and smiled in reply to the Good morning, miss Blume or to the Hi Gina, how are you doing? from a number of patrons who knew her.
Eggs and Flowers specialized in breakfast and dinner, and was closed for lunch. The place served excellent eggs for breakfast, and filled the room with fresh flowers for dinner. She understood Flowers was a place for a romantic dinner—a heart-melting dinner complete with a table-to-table violinist and flowers that guests could buy impromptu. She had had breakfast in this upscale place many times—all with her boss—but he had never taken her for dinner at Flowers.
"Hi, Gina, nice to see you this morning. Meeting your boss?" A middle-aged man with an air of casual elegance waved at her as she was walking toward her boss' table. She stopped by to exchange niceties. The other two men, as well-presented as the first, turned their heads around to greet her. The first man stood up and approached her,
"Let's have breakfast tomorrow. I might have something that I need your boss' help with," she took his offered hand in a warm handshake.
"You mean my company?"
"Yes, of course, dear. But I know you like it better if it involves your boss directly, no?" he winked wittily. Gina smiled, her eyes sparkled. Everything about her was just warm.
"Sure. I'll bring him along tomorrow, too."
"That'd be great."
She nodded her head slightly toward the other two gentlemen as she was about to continue her walk to her boss' table. They stood up and shook her hand. Gina had to spend another three minutes on the introductory exchanges. They exchanged business cards. One was the CEO of a big consulting company on the East Coast and the other one was his VP.
"Nice meeting you," she said, before looking at the concierge, who had been standing some distance away behind her, to continue escorting her to The Boss' table. They walked past a few more tables toward an exclusive corner spot, glass-walled on both sides overlooking the busy roads and a washed away view of Mount Rainier.
As she walked, the patrons, who were important figures in their own rights, all envied the big man for having such a beautiful creature by his side; and if the same luck had been bestowed upon them, they wouldn't have taken her for granted.
"Not the private room?" she asked the concierge as they walked past the private VIP rooms.
"Oh, full I guess."
"No. We always reserve one for him on weekends."
That's strange, she thought. I will ask him. He usually needs a private room to smoke his cigar.
He sat there. Sipping his espresso looking over his cup at her as she made her way to him. As she drew nearer, he put down his cup, stood up, and gave her a warm kiss on the cheek.
She could smell faint musk, and a hint of tobacco on him. At 5'11 he was not much taller than she was, but she always thought he towered over her.
"Good morning, Gina," he said, warmth in his voice.
She could see that other than his espresso, the table was still empty. Not even a bread basket. He asked her what she wanted for breakfast, then he waved at the server who had been waiting on him inconspicuously.
"Are you ready to place your order now, sir?" asked the server. He gave him a slight nod. She would have a pitaya bowl and he the eggs benedict. They would also have some orange juice and more espresso.
"You look nice," he said. Approvingly. Then he opened the conversation with what she thought about the war Russia started with Ukraine. How a fragmented America did or didn't encourage Putin.
I don't know. I haven't read it. Really? I look nice? That's all you can say? And you are going to spend this morning on politics, the world stage, and philosophy? And the mention of Putin—enough to ruin the whole day. Can we not talk about more personal things? Like how I spent last night after I couldn't see you for a drink, to report on a job well done? Gina thought, keeping a smile while listening to him half-heartedly.
Her mind was elsewhere when he startled her with a question,
"How was your evening with Roy yesterday?"
How does he know? Did he have people follow me?
It did not trouble her, but she was extremely curious.
"How do you know?"
The Boss couldn't tell her how he knew, because then he had to tell her that he had discreetly texted Roy while she was on the phone with Doxxan's people yesterday. "Gina is going to call you soon. Please help with her request," his text was. He also didn't want to tell her how Roy had replied with a fervent sure and at the same time probed if he could ask her out for a drink that evening. He remembered how that had made him feel: I am not her father!
"Roy told me."
"Told you? When?"
We parted ways late, 1 AM—Roy couldn't have called him then. Or this morning? They can’t have done, they’re not on such familiar terms—with Roy's boss, perhaps, but not with Roy. It had to be before. But why would Roy tell him about it? Anyway, is The Boss jealous? He’s jealous, isn't he? Her mind was swirling.
"Does it matter? I just wanted to know if you enjoyed your evening. If it's private, I withdraw my question," his tone was teasing. He smiled warmly, and looked at her affectionately.
Oh, it was amusing to him? Just when I thought he felt a tad jealous. He is kind and all, but he is cold! She thought.
"It was ok. It was work, that's all. Nothing to tell," she said. The sparkle in her eyes dimmed. She seemed uninterested. She needed to busy herself with something. The drinks had not arrived. She settled with playing with a corner of the napkin on her lap.
"Hey, Gina ..."
"That's ok. I was just trying to interest you with another topic of conversation. I don't want to bore you with my frustration with this world. So I thought talking about your evening would be good. Obviously, I was mistaken. I'm sorry. You’re looking so pretty this morning; I don't want to ruin it," he said.
Oh, what did he say? So pretty?
"No, no, no. That's ok. I don't mind telling you about my evening. It was truly nothing special though," Gina said.
"No, that's ok, Gina."
"I want to tell you," she said. She looked at him intently.
"Alright." He couldn't say no, not if he didn't want to upset her further.
Their pitaya bowl, eggs benedict, orange juice, and espressos came at once. As The Boss took the first sip of his second espresso, Gina started telling him about her evening with Roy. The Boss listened, trying as much as he could to appear interested. Gina went into great details with the story. And when she had ascertained The Boss understood there had been nothing to that evening, she began her breakfast with the first sip of her orange juice.
Gina told The Boss about her casual encounter with Abram Vargas, the CEO of Trelleco—the Telco company serving the entire West Coast—just a while ago, and the breakfast meeting that was set for tomorrow.
"Any preceding event leading to this?" he asked. She said no. Amazing, the Boss thought—but he made sure Gina didn't notice his appreciation of her.
The Boss had long realized this was where Gina was most useful to the business. People were attracted to her. Whereas other VPs had to cultivate it over time—incurring substantial expenses for lunches, dinners, events, and gifts—business opportunity was just a byproduct of Gina's charm. She walked past people and she attracted business like a flame to moths.
"Tomorrow—on a Sunday?" The Boss asked.
"That’s what he said. Is that ok with you?"
"Yes. Any day. Can you spare your Sunday?"
Spending a Sunday with you? I'd like that, she thought gladly.
"I can. No problem. It's business," she said.
As soon as the words left her mouth she realized her mistake. Why did I have to add the last part? What if it's not business? He can't ask me out? Idiot! How do I take it back? But of course, she could not retract that.
Close to 9 am The Boss reminded her of the meeting she had to go to. "That is ok. One of them couldn't make it so I have moved it to Monday," she said. Nevertheless, The Boss could stay only for another half an hour. He had a lunch meeting to prepare for.
So that's why he didn't take the private room, she thought, because he wouldn't have enough time to smoke his cigars. Meeting me was just a fit-in thing.
She was dismayed. She felt like a speck in his vast agenda. Nothing special, unlike she was in Roy's agenda. Roy—now him she could use to console her disappointment—would call her at the right time just like yesterday. Most probably.
She knew The Boss wouldn't, but that didn't stop her from thinking: Don't blame me if I accept his offer to go out again tonight. She tossed her hair in the wind and lightly grinned as she walked out to her car.
She let him kiss her passionately. She pushed her back against his hands, inviting them to travel down further until they landed on her supple buttocks. Every time he seemed to be out of breath, she darted her tongue further and thrusted faster, stronger. He stayed in her mouth longer and breathed what little air there was from within her mouth. Her calves were strained, her heels arched out from her high heels to support her upward posture, meeting the mouth of her taller counterpart. Her short skirt was pulled high enough to give glimpses of her naked flesh when he squeezed her tattooed buttocks by a handful. She flung one arm around his neck to provide pull support, with another lost between the two entwined bodies. From the side of her stretched arm, a dewy firm mound peeked out from her little black dress, which left her back bare. Under the private club's rotating lights, the reflection of the white
"It's going to be fun. C'mon. What's the big deal? Why are you so timid all of a sudden?" Rhonda coaxed Gina; she declined to meet new people that night. Rhonda had turned up at Gina's doorstep unannounced at 9 pm, bringing with her a conviction in her old friend Gina agreeing to an impromptu Saturday night out plan. "We haven't been out for two straight Saturdays. This will be the third if we don't go." "Are you keeping count? We just went out last Monday and Tuesday, then Thursday, each night a different crowd. Those don't count?" Gina chuckled; her friend's zest for partying amused her. "I’m too tired tonight. Why don't you just crash here? I have two bottles of excellent reds and a good rum from The Philippines. I feel like talking with you, anyway."
Gina got up from her bean bag, took and refilled their glasses. The thick carpet engulfed her feet as she walked on it. Still thinking of The Boss' appreciation of her feet, she took pleasure in the way the carpet felt under them. She perceived it as caressing. She quivered in delight. As she walked back from the integrated kitchen to the living room and past the dining area, she looked at her friend, who stole the time to text people. Rhonda was sitting on the plush, sectional sofa facing a wall adorned with a large, red abstract painting of a naked Gina, illuminated by accent lighting. In front of the sofa, was a low rectangular table. Printed papers with markings and annotations were scattered atop the table. Proposals and invoices; the new and completed projects that Gina was working on when Rhonda knocked on the door of her cute little townhouse.&
Last night's party was wild. She had been heavily intoxicated when somebody brought her home and tucked her in bed. The last she checked the time was 2 a.m. Then she remembered nothing. The daily alarm awakened her at 6 o'clock. Her head was heavy; this was a serious hangover. She sat herself up and noticed that Rhonda was lying next to her, fast asleep. Both were still in their party dresses. Instinctively, she reached inside her dress and found she still had her panties on. There had to be a lot of touching and groping last night, but now she was sure that nothing went beyond that—nothing had penetrated her. Rhonda? She thought the same must have happened with Rhonda, otherwise, she wouldn't be here passing out in her apartment.
It was Sunday, over breakfast and the two gentlemen were quite friendly, so Gina got in the mood and ventured into asking a question that could have been disadvantageous to her if the response had been negative. "What do you think of tattoos? Especially on women?" The gentlemen grinned and looked at each other. Abram thought The Boss should respond. "I think tattoos, proper ones, are a work of art. They add to the beauty," he said. "Why, you have one you want to show us?" he teased. "Yes, I do, and you have seen it already. Would you like me to add more?" Gina said, h
"Oh, goodness! Why are you still in bed?" Gina found Rhonda on the bed, lying down, watching a Netflix series, gliding into the late Sunday afternoon with nothing to desire except a full glass of red, fully naked for nobody to appreciate. Until now. She yawned and stretched, pulling everything taut. Flat stomach, muscled thighs, and pert breasts. She smirked, reached for the glass, and downed a swig of her wine insolently—spilled the liquid off her lips, wetting her breasts, then her stomach. Gina admired her friend's body with no envy, as she knew hers was as good if not better. Her legs were as muscled as Rhonda's, but being two inches taller, her calves curved further and tapered toward her ankle more gracefully. Her breasts were fuller and rounder, and the nipples were pinkish, while Rhonda's were light
Gina dressed in a black pin-striped suit and matching high-heeled boots, while Rhonda wore a gray suit with black stilettos. Their pants clung tightly to their shapely upper thighs and outlined the curves of their derrières, but fell loose from their knees. Nothing was exposed except their glorious selves. The ladies' silky, fine hair exhibited a sharp contrast with their suits—auburn against black and brunette on gray. The same Eggs and Flowers' concierge escorted them to the Boss' private room. As the alluring pair walked by, the other patrons wondered which table these fine creatures would be seated at."They must be headed to Georg's table," said one fine-looking gentleman to the other three envious colleagues seated around him—two men and one particularly handsome female.
Rhonda's first order of business was to arrange the first dinner with Trelleco's chief officers. This wouldn't be simple calls to their secretaries asking them to schedule it in their bosses' calendar. Nevertheless, Rhonda tried the said customary method first, and of course, they were all busy and offered no alternative date. "Can't Abram just tell them to set aside time to meet with us over dinner? He is the big boss, isn't he?" Rhonda asked Gina. Gina explained Abram had to stay in the background to be perceived as impartial over any of the two competing companies. Choosing them over Kronos had to come unanimously from his executive team. Abram could tilt the balance once they entered the later stage of negotiations, but for now, the