by Frank Martinet
Recently I had a remarkable experience I just have to share.
I was having a terrible day. Work had been insane lately. Our company was merging with another and some days it looked like I might get a promotion, and on other days it felt like I might be one of the layoffs. I was working 12-hour days most of the time. My girlfriend and I had just had another fight and it was looking like she might be moving out. Then my boss got the flu and sent me to San Francisco on two hours notice. For all I knew Sarah wouldn't be there when I got home.
Of course the flight was delayed, so I spent three hours at the airport, waiting, and my laptop crashed and refused to boot, and I didn't have any backup disks with me. And did I mention the ATM machine ate my card? (The bank was real helpful. Thirty minutes after I called, a workman showed up and put an "Out of Order" sign on the machine. Then he left.)
Anyway, I arrived in SF hungry, grouchy, sweaty, and royally pissed off at the world. The only good piece of news was that I had managed to get a hold of an old college buddy of mine and he'd promised to pick me up at the airport. Eric had moved to San Francisco about ten years ago and though we've talked on occasion, I hadn't seen him in at least that long.
I almost didn't recognize him. I wouldn't have, really, if he hadn't seen me first. I guess I haven't changed much in ten years. Eric, on the other hand, was impressive. He looked fit and healthy - extremely fit and healthy. He was dressed to the nines in what was obviously an expensive, custom-made suit. I felt even worse about my own drabby appearance: I still wore the six-year-old brown suit I'd put on 18 hours earlier.
"You must be doing well for yourself," I said as we headed for the baggage area.
"Tops," laughed Eric. "It comes in faster than I can spend it, and I spend it easily!"
I felt a twinge of jealousy. Eric and I had graduated the same year, but he'd obviously done better than me. Not that I was starving or anything. I had a nice 401K, owned a home, and I was looking into buying a summer place by the lake. Nothing too elaborate, mind you, just a cabin. But it was about 60K and with the job situation rather haphazard right now, I felt it best to wait until the chips fell.
"What are you into?" I asked. "I mean, I know you started your own company, but what do you do?"
Eric grinned. "I don't do anything - my employees do the work." He laughed, pointing at a bright pink suitcase curling past us. "Is that yours?"
I shook my head, laughing with him.
"Seriously," he continued, "I network. That's my job. I meet with the presidents and CEOs of top high tech companies. I take them out for drinks, we shmooze, we play golf, you know the shit. Then they sign contracts giving my company millions."
"Sounds like fun," I said.
"It's the only thing I'm good at. All that tech talk goes right over my head. I've got a geek I bring along to handle that shit."
By this time I was starting to get a bad feeling. The pink bag had gone past us three times already, and I had yet to see my suitcase. There were only a handful of bags left. A few minutes later I knew with certainty that they'd lost my luggage.
After filling out the forms from a bored airline clerk, we left. Eric told me not to worry.
"We're about the same size. You come stay at my place and I'll fix you up."
"Thanks, Eric, but I couldn't do that. Besides, the company's got a suite for me at the Wilton."
We stopped in front of black limo. The driver opened the door for us. I looked at Eric in astonishment. He shrugged. "Driving's a bitch in the city."
Once inside, Eric poured me a drink. As I sat back, relaxing for the first time in many, many hours, I saw he was watching me quizzically. "How much they shell out for that pad at the Wilton? One-seventy-five, two hundred a night? And you're here for three nights? Tell you what you do: talk to the manager. For a C-note, he'll copy you some receipts. You let the hotel rent the room to someone else and the company will pay you for the stay. With meals and other crap you'll pocket five, six hundred, easy."
"I don't know..."
"Come on. I know the manager over there. Good guy. I put clients up there all the time."
Five hundred tax-free dollars sounded nice, but it seemed risky. A little cheap, too. It sounded just like Eric. "What if someone calls the hotel?"
"Who's gonna call the hotel? They'll call your cellular. And if someone does, the manager will just tell 'em you're out."
Eric pulled out his own cell phone. "Watch." In seconds he was talking to the manager at the Wilton. "Hey, Jack. Eric Larson. Right. Oh, doing fine. Listen, I've got a friend of mine here. His company is putting him up there. Name's Nathaniel Hilderblast."
Eric put his hand over the mouthpiece and winked at me. "It will be fine," he whispered. Then back into the phone: "Yeah, three nights. Anyway, he's going to stay at my place. So go ahead and use the room, but bill the client. Yes. Of course. Sure, I'm sure his company doesn't mind a few room service items tacked on. Pad it heavy and take off your cut. Yeah, Nat will pick up his share on Friday. Sweet. You're a genius, Jack! Oh, and if his company calls, just say he's out. Right. Forward any messages to me. Talk to you later."
I shook my head. "You've got guts, Eric. I never would have had the nerve to do that."
"That's why you still work for that piddling firm," he laughed, putting away his phone.
"They did $210 million last year," I said defensively. "When we finish the merger we'll have combined sales of nearly $300 million."
Eric nodded. "Like I said, a piddling firm." Then he burst out laughing. "To when you're CEO," he said, clinking his drink with mine.
I looked out the tinted window, watching the city lights flash by. "Are you sure you don't mind me crashing at your place?" I said. "I didn't give you much notice."
"Hell, if you saw my place you wouldn't even ask that."
"Plenty of room?"
"I've been there four years and I haven't even seen all the rooms."
I leaned back. "Thanks, Eric. I mean really. I appreciate this. It's been a shitty day."
That's when the gleam showed up in Eric's eyes. He leaned forward. "How are you and that girl you were seeing doing?"
"Shitty," I said.
"You too tired for a little entertainment?"
There was something mysterious in his manner that made me sit up. "What do you have in mind?"
Eric didn't answer. He pressed a button and the partition between us and the driver rolled down. "Leo, change of plans. Take us to Burdesky's."
"What's Burdesky's?" I asked.
"A bar. A very special bar. Only a handful of members are allowed. We can bring guests, of course. I only bring my top clients."
"I'm honored," I said.
It was true, I was. But I was also a bit disappointed. From Eric's manner I'd expected something extraordinary. No doubt this bar had a few high-class whores and that was the primary attraction. I wasn't opposed to a hooker, especially not after a day like today, but paying for it always felt cheap.
When the limo stopped, Eric winked at me. "Sorry, pal, but rules are rules."
From somewhere he produced a black bandana and proceeded to blindfold me. It was already dark outside and with the cloth over my eyes I could see nothing. He grabbed my hand and led me.
We climbed out of the limo, walked a bit on pavement, then went through a doorway. That was followed by several flights of stairs, a very long corridor, more stairs, and finally we stopped. The blindfold was taken off.
I was standing in a non-descript hallway. Very plain and ordinary, looking like the bowels of some 1970's office building. The double doors before me were large, and the way Eric stood, motioning for me to open them, implied something grand.
I still wasn't expecting much, but the sight blew me away. This was to an ordinary bar the way a thousand dollar bottle of wine was to sewer water.
The place was a palace. Everything was polished wood and gleaming gold. Along the left side of the room was the bar. The stash of expensive bottles behind it was encased in glass cabinets and just a glance told me I was looking at hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of liquor.
The rest of the huge room was filled with small tables well apart. It had a country club atmosphere, with sofas and recliners, wooden columns, and towering ferns. Each set of sofa and table was in its own secluded area. The room, I saw, wandered all over. There were various levels, lots of corners, and the large plants and columns gave the illusion of privacy. The room wasn't brightly lit, with the only lights coming from small glowing lanterns at each table. I didn't see any guests.
A sweet smell swept past me and my jaw fell open and I literally began to salivate. The woman who passed me was stunning. She wore an elegant red and black waitress uniform. The jacket was black and red checkers, the skirt solid black and obscenely short. Red leather boots that went all the way to her knees completed the outfit.
The clothes only enhanced an incredible package, however. The woman was Grade A prime. She had long curly blond hair and a killer face. I only caught a glimpse, but her face was model material. I had no doubt it could handle a full-page fashion mag blow up.
But her body! God, it hurt just to watch her walk past. The first thing I noticed were her hips swaying - she had marvelous hips. The ball of her ass, covered by the flap of her black skirt, rolled juicily as she walked. Then she turned at the bar and set down her tray. My eyes swelled.
Her jacket was open at the front and she wore nothing underneath. I mean nothing. Leaning against the bar, one leg on the gold foot pole, her jacket fell open completely. I caught sight of a splendid female figure. Her breasts were high, firm, and just the right size for a man's hand. Not absurd gourds, but healthy, human, female breast-size, absolutely perfect.
After staring at the woman for a quarter-hour or so, it dawned on me that she was looking back at me. My eyes rose to hers and I saw she was smiling. I blushed furiously and tried to look away, but I couldn't.
Then the blond goddess turned and walked toward me. She didn't walk fast or slow, just normal. Her breasts jiggled slightly as she moved, shifting left to right. She stopped right before me. Her eyes flashed to Eric, who I'd completely forgotten was next to me, and then back to me. Her smile was friendly, welcoming, and sincere. Her teeth looked like she'd just come back from a cleaning. They were so white it was like looking right at the sun.
"May I get you drinks, gentlemen?"
Her voice was soft and deep and strong, full of confidence. She was a woman. She knew she was attractive and had no problem with that.
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