Taking One For The Team
by Ann Douglas
Charlie Owens walked past the reception desk in the lobby of Tyler, Dallas and Harrison,
trying to look as nonchalant as he could. If the fair-haired twenty-one year old was lucky, anyone
would assume he was just back from a coffee break, and not coming in two hours late. He had
just about made it when Brenda Peters, the law firm's receptionist, looked up from the papers
she had been reading and called out his name.
"Shit, I am so busted," the clerk thought as he came to a sudden stop.
Turning to face the middle aged woman, Charlie had to admit that he had no one to
blame but himself. No one had forced him to stay out so late on a Wednesday night, and then
fall into a dead sleep that a dozen alarm clocks wouldn't have roused him from.
Going out to see the new gangster film starring Marlon Brando hadn't been in his plans
when he'd sat down to dinner last night, but a call from Mark Willis, one of his best friends since
grade school, had changed all that. Recently back from a tour in Vietnam, Mark was one of the
few people he couldn't say no to.
Then, after the film, which both of them agreed has been great, especially that new actor
that had played the Godfather's son, Mark had suggested they stop at Clancy's on the way home
and have a drink. Unfortunately, once the old time veterans who frequented the bar heard that
Mark was recently back from the 'Nam, they insisted on buying him round after round.
Thankfully they hadn't been as generous as far as Charlie was concerned and he managed to
stretch out his drinks, while Mark got totally ripped. Mark, however, didn't need to get up for
work in the morning.
"Oh, hi, Brenda," Charlie said, trying to sound innocent while he put on the best smile he
could manage.
"Late start today?" the buxom woman said with an equally wide smile.
His first reaction was to laugh and say he'd been in for hours, but then he thought better
of it. Brenda had been with the firm since before he'd hit puberty and it was generally known that
she was better than a time clock in keeping track of everyone's comings and goings.
"Oh, don't worry, honey, I'm not going to turn you in," she said with a soft laugh, pausing
just long enough to watch the look of concern on his face to turn into one of relief. "Late night?"
she asked.
Charlie didn't answer, but the look on his face said it had been.
"I hope she was worth it," Brenda offered.
"Thanks, Brenda, I really owe you," Charlie said, his gratitude genuine as he
remembered how angry his boss had been the last time he was late.
"You know, one of these days, Chuck," Brenda said with a grin that could only be
described as mischievous, "I might have a mind to call you on that, and you never know what I
might want in return."
Charlie smiled again, wondering not for the first time if Brenda was actually serious or
just jerking his chain. Despite being old enough to be his mother, she always referring to him
with terms of affection, as well as making remarks that could be considered inappropriate. He
never really thought about it much at first, but noticed over time that he was the only one in the
office she acted that way with. Deciding that now was not the time to really try and figure it out,
he turned to head in the direction of his desk, but was again stopped by Brenda as she explained
why she had called out to him in the first place.
"Mr. Harrison asked me to watch out for you this morning and to make sure that you got
the message that he wanted to see you after his eleven o'clock meeting," she said, glancing up
at the wall clock and noting that the aforementioned meeting had started a few minutes before.
"No problem, I'll just head over to Steve's desk now and wait for him to come back,"
Charlie said, still relieved that the day wasn't turning out as bad as he originally thought it would.
"I'm not talking about Steve," Brenda said, clarifying her statement. "I'm referring to Mr.
Harrison, senior, and he wants to see you in his office."
"What?" Charlie said in surprise. "Are you sure he meant me?" he added, a sense of
worry now back in his voice.
"He meant you, Chuckie boy. I asked him that same question," Brenda replied, "and
since his eleven o'clock is only supposed to be a fifteen minute meeting, I suggest you take that
cute little ass of yours over there mighty quick."
Now actually worried about what was going on, Charlie didn't even notice that comment
about his ass. All he could think of as he rushed down the corridor towards partners' row was,
what had he done wrong?
Brendon Harrison was the uncle of Steve Harrison, whom Charlie had met in college and
had helped him get his job. One of the founders of the firm and the only name partner still
practicing, Charlie had only met the man three or four times, of which two had been short
introductions by his nephew. In fact, if they passed in the hall, Charlie would've bet his paycheck
that the senior lawyer wouldn't have known him from the kid they usually sent out for coffee.
"I was told that Mr. Harrison wanted to see me," Charlie said as he stepped up to the
desk of the partner's personal secretary, trying hard not to show his anxiety.
"And you are?" Paula Madison, who was about ten years older than Charlie, said with a
look of annoyance.
"Charlie Owens," he said.
"I don't see anything on his schedule," the light-skinned black woman said after
checking the appointment book.
"I was given the message by Brenda out at reception," Charlie added, as if using her
name gave it more authenticity. "She said he wanted to see me at eleven fifteen."
At that, the expression on the well dressed woman turned from irritation to disapproval.
In her mind, showing up at the last minute before a summons, and at his level it really shouldn't
be considered anything other than that, from a man of Mr. Harrison's stature, could only be
interpreted as a lack of respect.
"Why don't you have a seat, and I'll let you know when he's ready for you," Paula said
coldly, instantly dismissing him as she returned her attention to the papers in front of her.
Not more than a minute later, the door to the right of Paula opened and two of the firm's
other partners stepped out of Harrison's office. Neither of them took any notice of Charlie sitting
there; and simply went on their way, sharing a quiet but animated discussion as they did. From
what Charlie could see of their expressions, neither of them looked any too happy.
Another minute passed, after which Charlie almost jumped out of his seat when the
buzzer on Paula's desk went off. She answered it, replying to the question that had been asked,
and then added that Charlie was outside and claimed to have an appointment with him.
The line suddenly went dead, which surprised Paula, as she could never remember that
happening before. She was even more astonished when the office door opened and out stepped
Brendon Harrison.
"Charles, good to see you again," the sixty-two year old said as he approached the
young man with an outstretched hand.
Charlie's first thought as he automatically reached out with his own hand was that Mr.
Harrison had to have him mixed up with someone else. Then again, he had called him by name.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Paula was almost as confused as he was by the
partner's behavior.
"Please see that we're not disturbed," Mr. Harrison said as he led Charlie into his office.
As he stepped into the expensively decorated office, Charlie's eyes were drawn to the
large, antique desk in the center rear of it. If Steve was to believed, and Charlie had no reason
not to do so, his uncle had the habit of celebrating a big win for the firm by bending miss prim
and proper outside over that desk and fucking her brains out. If only for the moment, that image
dispelled Charlie's worry about why he was here.
"Can I have Paula bring you in a coffee or something?" Mr. Harrison asked as he
directed Charlie to one of the comfortable chairs in front of his desk.
"No, I'm fine," Charlie replied as the older man walked around the desk and sat down in
the large leather chair behind it.
"I guess the first thing I should say, Charles, is that you're not in any kind of trouble, so
please relax," Mr. Harrison said with a laugh as he made himself comfortable. "By the way, do
you prefer Charles or do your friends call you something else?"
"Most of my friends call me Charlie," he replied automatically, a sense of relief washing
over him. He'd been certain that somehow he'd screwed up big time, even if he had no idea
what he could've done wrong. Especially on a scale that would involve someone like Mr.
Harrison.
"Charlie it is, then," Mr. Harrison replied as he picked up a piece of paper from an open
folder on his desk and glanced at it for a few seconds.
Charlie took that pause to take a better look at the room around him. It was a far cry
from the little cubicle he worked in.
"You've been with us some time, haven't you, Charlie?" Mr. Harrison asked as he put
the paper back down. "Do you like it here?"
"Not really," Charlie said, then corrected himself. "I mean, I've only been a regular
employee a bit over a year, but I was part of the college intern program six months before that.
And yes, I like it here."
"Good, very good," Mr. Harrison said, after which he paused as if considering what he
was going to say next. "Are you married, Charlie?" he then asked.
"No, sir," Charlie quickly answered, "I just got out of college," he added, as if that
somehow negated the possibility.
"That's good," Mr. Harrison continued. "It might have complicated matters a bit if you
were."
Totally at a loss as to what the hell he was talking about, Charlie considered simply
asking what the senior partner wanted. Then he decided that discretion was indeed the better
part of valor and whatever it was that Mr. Harrison wanted to talk to him about, he would get
around to it in his own sweet time.
"Any girlfriend?" Mr. Harrison asked, which as strange a question as the first one
seemed.
"No, not really," Charlie replied, again wondering what, if anything, this had to do with
his job here at the firm.
"You do date girls, don't you, Charlie?" Mr. Harrison asked after what seemed a very
long pause.
That, had to be the strangest question of all, and it took Charlie an even longer pause to
realize the implications of it. In a very strong affirmative, Charlie said that he did, just that he
didn't have anyone he considered a girlfriend. The answer seemed to please the old man.
As he had given that last answer, Charlie noticed a few framed family photographs on
the desk, reminding him of something else Steve had mentioned during a night of bar-hopping.
He was complaining about how his mother was again on his case about setting up his fat cousin
with one of his friends. Referring to her to her as "Elsie", after the cow in the old Borden milk
commercials, he'd told Charlie that he didn't dislike anyone enough to do that to them. Since Mr.
Harrison was Steve's only uncle, then "Elsie" had to be his daughter.
"I'm not sure I like the way this is going," Charlie thought as, putting the questions he'd
been asked in terms of finding someone to date an unwanted daughter, they now began to make
sense.
"Charlie, I want to be honest with you," Mr. Harrison said, once he began speaking
again, "and just lay out the situation I'm faced with, and then let you decide how you might help
resolve it, and incidentally possibly also help your career here at Tyler, Dallas and Harrison at
the same time."
"Shit, it has to be his daughter," Charlie thought, and that little bit about advancing his
career probably means that he's talking about a lot more than just taking her out a few times.
Caught in a moment of panic, he found himself wishing he could reconsider his answer on
whether he dated girls or not.
"Are you familiar with Orzeskowa Industries?" Mr. Harrison then asked, unexpectedly
changing the topic of discussion.
"Of course, sir," Charlie answered, wondering what that had to do with Harrison's
daughter.
"And are you aware that Orzeskowa Industries accounts for almost forty percent of this
firm's billable hours?" he added.
Charlie explained that he was aware that it was one of the firm's most important clients,
but didn't know it was responsible for that much of their revenues.
"Well, there's actually no reason that you should know," Mr. Harrison said. "It's not like
we advertise it."
"Then why mention it now?" Charlie thought, even more confused about what was going
on here.
"You do know, however, that Mrs. Orzeskowa was in here yesterday evening for our
annual meeting concerning our firm's representation of their interests."
That was a simple statement of fact, not a question, since Charlie, along with most of the
other clerks, had spent the better part of last week doing research and assembling files for the
meeting. In fact, just before he'd gone home for the day, he'd even been called into the
conference room for a few moments, to bring an updated report that one of the partners had
asked for.
"Well, what I am sure you don't know, because no one outside the partners have been
told," Mr. Harrison said, the tone of his voice becoming much more serious, "is that yesterday's
meeting didn't go very well. In fact, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say it went quite badly."
Charlie couldn't imagine what had happened; his own involvement in the matter had
been so minor and peripheral. What he did understand, especially since he now knew the extent
of Orzeskowa Industries' value to the firm, that the loss of their account could be catastrophic.
"Without going into a lot of unnecessary detail, Mrs. Orzeskowa was unhappy with the
way our firm handled what can only be described as a minor administrative matter," he said,
stopping for a breath before continuing. "Then, despite the mutually beneficial relationship that
has existed between our companies since the stewardship of her late husband, the suggestion
was made that perhaps it was time for Orzeskowa Industries to seek different representation."
Charlie didn't have to ask who had made that suggestion, but evidently Mr. Harrison felt
the need to expand on the subject.
"Sadly, Eliza Orzeskowa, who is now the primary shareholder and chairwoman of the
board of Orzeskowa Industries, does not share the confidence Alexander Orzeskowa had in
Tyler, Dallas and Harrison, and it's my belief that she was looking for any excuse to sever any
future relationship."
Even at his level, Charlie knew a company didn't need an excuse to change law firms,
but if they changed one because of some fault in their representation, it could reflect badly on
the offending firm.
"Naturally, this is an outcome we would very much like to avoid," Mr. Harrison
concluded.
With still no idea where he fitted into all of this, or what all that business at the beginning
about his marital status had been about, Charlie nevertheless stated that of course he was willing
to do anything that he could to help the firm. It was an automatic reply to an unasked question.
One which he wondered if he should've been less forthcoming with, the moment he'd said it.
"I'm very glad to hear you say that," Mr. Harrison said as he got up from his chair and
moved from the desk to a small cabinet a few feet away. The cabinet opened to reveal a fully
stocked bar and the partner, announcing that he was going to have a drink, asked Charlie if he
would also like one.
Last night being a notable exception, Charlie wasn't much of a drinker, but when the
senior partner suggests something it is a good idea to follow that suggestion. So he said yes.
As he began to pour the drinks, Mr. Harrison remarked that, as little as ten years ago, he
wouldn't have had to hide the bar in his office. No one would've thought anything of it being
there. More deals were concluded over a shared drink than across the conference table. But the
world changes, he said, and you have to change with it, dealing with the people that you had to
deal with, and not the ones you wish you could.
Charlie was still having a hard time following him, but nodded knowingly as he took the
drink and had a small sip.
"Now where was I?" Mr. Harrison asked out loud as he took a much larger belt of his
own drink. "Oh yes, I remember."
Sitting down on the edge of his desk, Mr. Harrison told Charlie that he had used all of his
powers of persuasion to try and convince Mrs. Orzeskowa to give them a day or two to fix what
was wrong. At first, she didn't want to hear it, saying she was planning to fly back to Boston this
morning. He pointed out that the change was so minor as to be a forgone conclusion that it
could be set right, and there was no reason why she couldn't sign a short term extension there
and then and an amended agreement could be sent to her in Boston by messenger.
Charlie found himself paying rapt attention to the words coming out of the older man's
mouth. Not only did he hope they would finally provide a clue as to what he was doing here, but
it was a glimpse into the business world that they didn't teach in college.
"I had thought that would settle it, but she said she still had some reservations," the
partner continued. "But since her husband had such a good relationship with the firm, she would
give us the time to correct it all and then make up her mind once it had been corrected."
Mr. Harrison paused again and took another drink of the amber liquid in his glass before
going on.
"We did of course say we would pick up the cost of any additional expenses related to
her extended stay in the city, including a dinner at the best restaurant and tickets for any
Broadway show that she might like to see. After all, it wasn't like we expected her to spend the
night in her hotel eating room service and watching the Mod Squad."
Charlie nodded his head. That was a standard practice, and not a few times he'd had to
go pick up a client's tickets. This couldn't have been all about that, he knew. If it had been, he
simply would've been told by someone much more junior to go and get them.
"That seemed to settle matters," Mr. Harrison added, "but then a small problem, well,
not really a problem really, more like a concern, was expressed."
Charlie listened as Mr. Harrison said that, without really directing her comment at anyone
in particular, Mrs. Orzeskowa mused out loud that, now that she thought of it, she couldn't
imagine whom she might ask to accompany her to dinner and the theatre. Concerned that their
victory might be short lived, several of the partners had quickly offered the services of
themselves and their wives as escorts for the evening.
It was quickly obvious that prospect didn't appeal to Mrs. Orzeskowa at all. Not for the
first time, Brandon Harrison longed for what he thought of as the good old days. Back then,
every firm had its own little list of accommodating young ladies that they could set up with a
client and who, surprising enough, could be written off as entertainment expenses through a bit
of creative bookkeeping. After all, that was what they were. Some firms even had a similar list
of young men, for clientele with atypical tastes, or for those even rarer occasions when the client
had been a woman.
Not willing to let it all slip through his fingers after he had come so close, Mr. Harrison
said that if she would give them a bit of time, he was sure they could find an acceptable escort.
That was at that moment that Mr. Harrison saw a smile come to Mrs. Orzeskowa's lips.
One that he couldn't help but interpret as one heralded potential danger.
"You know, now that you mention it," the chairwoman of the board had said, "I do have
a thought as to that."
The tone of her voice told the senior partner that his initial assessment was correct.
"Earlier, just when we where getting started here," she had pointed out, "a rather
handsome young man brought in some papers for Mr. Wolcott. I'm sure you know the one I'm
referring to, short light blond hair, cute smile, wearing brown slacks and a tan shirt. He struck me
as perhaps an interesting sort, and I think he might make an excellent dinner companion."
Charlie took a loud, deep breath that caused Mr. Harrison to stop his narration.
Yesterday, he had been wearing the outfit just described. All the pieces suddenly came together
and it now all made sense. Or did it?
"There's something more to this," Charlie said to himself, "something I'm not seeing."
"If I understand you correctly, Mr. Harrison," Charlie said, choosing his words carefully
to be sure he understood what was going on, "you'd like me to escort Mrs. Orzeskowa to dinner
and the theatre. Is that it?"
"Basically," was his single word reply.
The brevity of his answer was totally at odds with what Charlie knew of Brendon
Harrison. There had to be something more here.
"Of course I'll be glad to do it," he said nonetheless.
"Excellent, I'm glad to hear that, Charlie," Mr. Harrison smiled, "and of course the firm
will cover any costs you might incur."
"Sir, is there something that I'm missing?" Charlie asked, figuring that now was finally
the time to be direct.
"I don't think so," Mr. Harrison said, the tone of his reply less than convincing.
Then, like a flash cube going off in his head, it suddenly became as clear as could be to
Charlie.
"Sir," he said as respectfully as he could, "just how far does the firm expect me to go to
make Mrs. Orzeskowa happy?"
"I don't understand," Mr. Harrison said, his professed lack of understanding carrying
even less credibility.
Although he would never say it out loud, the expression on Charlie's face said that he
didn't believe the senior partner. That must've finally come across, as the older man provided an
addendum.
"Well, of course we would never ask you to act in any way that you wouldn't think
appropriate, Charlie," he said. "We are, after all, Tyler, Dallas, and Harrison."
"You don't know how glad I am to hear that," Charlie said, having imagined the worst
possible scenario for a few seconds.
"Still," Mr. Harrison said, as if he was just musing out loud rather than still speaking to
Charlie, "it would be a terrible shame if, after all our efforts to smooth over the situation, Mrs.
Orzeskowa were to come back into the office tomorrow in anything but an agreeable mood."
"Fuck!" Charlie said under his breath as he realized the situation he was being put in.
His under the breath comment must've been louder than he thought, because it was
obvious that the partner had heard him.
"Be assured that whatever contribution you might be able to make in helping retain the
Orzeskowa account won't go unnoticed," Mr. Harrison said as he slid off the desk and took a
step toward Charlie, his hand outstretched. A clear indication the meeting was now over.
What also hadn't been said, but clearly was just as apparent as if it had been, was the
fact that if he wound up being the cause of the account being lost, that wouldn't go unnoticed
either.
"Like I said, Charlie," Mr. Harrison said as they reached the open door, "it won't be
forgotten that, when the team desperately needed someone on base, you stepped up to the
plate."
As the door closed behind him, Charlie caught Paula Madison's eyes viewing him with
suspicion. Passing her desk, he turned slightly and gave her a knowing smile, certain that would
irritate her even more.
-=-=-=
When he got back to his desk, Charlie found an inter-office envelope with his name on it
waiting on his desk. It caught his attention because, unlike the multi-use ones that were closed
with a small bit of string, this was a single use version that was sealed with tape and marked
confidential. He glanced around to see if anyone was looking, then opened it to find a two page
memorandum, two orchestra seat tickets to Grease, and two bundles of twenty-dollar bills that
had 'spending money' written on the paper bands. He didn't need to count it to know it was more
than he normally took home in a week.
The memorandum, which uncharacteristically was written on plain paper rather than the
company letterhead, began with the address of the midtown hotel where Mrs. Orzeskowa was
staying, along with the restaurant where a six o'clock reservation had been made in his name.
Since only a few minutes had passed since he'd left Mr. Harrison's office, the envelope had to
have been left while he'd still been in there. Evidently, the idea that he might have said no
hadn't even been considered a possibility.
"I could go back and tell him I've changed my mind," Charlie thought as he sat at his
small desk, no longer feeling the intimidation that had surrounded him in the senior partner's
office. "Just walk right back there and drop this envelope on Harrison's antique desk and tell him
that my services are not for sale."
He sat back in his chair and imagined himself doing just that.
"Right," he said silently, "and then I can march myself right down to the unemployment
office and fill out a claim."
His dismissal, of course, would never be for the reason discussed behind those closed
doors. No, it would be for any of the dozens of reasons that people got fired every day. They
wouldn't even have to look too hard to find one that applied to Charlie.
No, he was trapped and he knew it.
"You know," he said to himself, "Harrison really didn't come right out and say that sex
was part of the deal, just that I should be sure the old lady comes into the office tomorrow
morning in a good mood. Who knows what really makes her happy?"
Giving it a few more minutes of thought, Charlie almost half convinced himself that Mrs.
Orzeskowa might just enjoy the company of young people around her. You saw successful older
men attending parties with younger women all the time, and that didn't mean that they were
sleeping with them.
"Yeah, and those hot women are with them 'cause they all just like older guys," he
countered his own argument.
It then occurred to Charlie, that he had no idea what Mrs. Orzeskowa even looked like.
There had been a few women in that conference room yesterday, but he'd been so nervous
about being sent in there to begin with, he hadn't given any of them any notice.
Stuffing the envelope into his top drawer, Charlie got up and headed back out to the
reception area. The first thing he'd learned back when he was an intern was, if you needed to
know something, Brenda was the one to ask. All he had to do was figure out how to ask her
without really asking her.
-=-=-=
'So, things go okay with old man Harrison?" Brenda asked him after the usual
pleasantries were out of the way. "You're not in any trouble, are you?"
"No, not at all," Charlie smiled, hoping that was true. "He just had a little problem that he
needed my help with. I figured I'd cut him a break and told him I'd take care of it."
"Yeah, right," Brenda laughed.
They chatted for another minute or two on another subject and Charlie managed to steer
the conversation to yesterday's big meeting. He said that when he had brought the papers into
the room, he was hoping to meet the mysterious Mrs. Orzeskowa, but there were a couple of
women in the room and he didn't know which old lady was her.
"If all they had were old ladies in the room, then she mustn't have come in yet," Brenda
commented as she split her attention between Charlie and a note clipped onto an envelope a
passerby had dropped on her desk, the note explaining who was to pick it up. "Eliza Orzeskowa
is hardly an old lady."
"Really?" a visibly relieved Charlie asked.
"Not at all," Brenda said as she put the envelope with the note to the side. "I would
guess that she's maybe in her mid to late fifties."
"And that's not old?" Charlie said, his relief fading.
"I don't think so," said Brenda, who was herself approaching her mid-fifties, said. "What
do you consider old?"
Charlie didn't answer, but if he had, he would've said that to him, his mother might be
what he considered old, and she was six months shy of her forty-seventh birthday.
"Charlie, are you okay?" Brenda suddenly asked. "You look a little pale."
"No, I'm fine," he lied.
He asked a few other questions about the woman he would be escorting to dinner in a
few hours, but all he got were answers that really didn't tell him anything he actually wanted to
know. That was until Brenda stopped for a second and, after making sure no one else was too
close, crooked her finger to tell Charlie he should come a little closer.
"You know, I really shouldn't be saying this," Brenda said in a voice that dropped to a
whisper, her habit when sharing gossip, "but I have a friend up in Boston that works for one of
the daily papers. As I heard it from her, even before her husband passed away, Eliza
Orzeskowa was notorious for appearing at functions with a young man on her arm. And never
the same one twice."
Hearing that, Charlie got just a little bit paler.
Returning to his desk, Charlie took out the envelope back out of his drawer and gave the
memorandum another look. According to the timetable, he would have to be at the hotel no later
than five o'clock. It was now just after twelve thirty and he still had to run home to shower and
change. Seeing as how he was operating on the instructions of the senior partner, Charlie didn't
think anyone was going to say anything if he left now and went home. Still, at the same time, he
didn't want to draw any attention to himself when he did. So he gathered up a few envelopes
and displayed then conspicuously as he left, giving the impression that he was making some
personal deliveries as he sometimes was called to do.
-=-=-=
It was fortunate that Charlie's older brother, who lived in Manhattan, had given him a key
to his apartment and let him keep a few changes of clothing there. Since Charlie still lived back
home in Brooklyn, it would've been near impossible to get there and back in the time he had.
Of the two suits he kept there, only one was suitable for a fancy restaurant. It hadn't
been dry cleaned since the last time he'd worn it, so he carefully checked the dark blue suit to
make sure there were no stains on it. Then he took a clean shirt from the dresser and laid out
socks and underwear to go with it, along with a pair of black loafers.
The clock on the wall said he still had time, so he made a light snack out of whatever
leftovers were in the refrigerator, his thinking being that, even though he was going out to dinner,
it wouldn't be a bad idea to have a little something in his stomach now.
He listened to Don McLean's American Pie on the radio as he shaved, taking care not
to nick himself since there was no styptic pencil in the medicine cabinet. By the time he finally
climbed into the shower and turned the water up as hot as he could stand it, the station had
switched to the sounds of Stevie Wonder and Roberta Flack.
The hot water felt good against his skin as he soaped his body up and then rinsed
himself clean. When he stepped back onto the bathroom rug, he took a long look at his naked
reflection in the cheap mirror attached to the back of the door.
Hardly the body of an athlete, he thought, but still not in bad shape. What body hair he
had was so light in color as to be barely noticeable, even around his cock, although sometimes
he worried that the scarcity of hair made it look more like that of a teenage boy than a grown
man. Still, he'd done well enough with girls to now consider himself experienced in matters
sexual, or at least as experienced as most guys his age. The semi-erect manhood between his
legs was, he'd always felt, about average. At least that was the impression he got when he stole
a quick look at other guys in the locker room. Those comparisons, which he was sure other guys
made as well, had out of self-preservation been as brief as possible. A much better indicator,
he'd later decided, was that no girl who had ever seen it had complained, or worse, laughed.
As he began to dress, he thought of a saying one of his history teachers was fond of
using to describe actions born out of a sense of obligation that might also apply to his situation,
"For King and Country." He whirled the words around in his mouth a few times, then decided
that it was too noble a phrase. Buttoning his shirt and reaching for his tie, a better description
came to him, one that built on the baseball analogy that Mr. Harrison had used earlier. What he
was doing was, "taking one for the team."
-=-=-=
Reaching the hotel at ten to five, Charlie stepped into the lobby and confidently walked
up to the front desk, asking the man behind it for Mrs. Orzeskowa's room. The desk clerk looked
at him with an expression that reminded Charlie of Paula Madison, and then asked him if he was
expected. When he said that he was, the clerk asked his name and then picked up a phone to
announce his arrival. At the last second, Charlie remembered to say that he was from Tyler,
Dallas, and Harrison, reasoning that Mrs. Orzeskowa might not know his name, just his face.
The conversation was brief, no more than a few seconds, but when it was over the desk
clerk's tone was noticeably more accommodating. "You can go right on up, Mr. Owens," he said
with a well practiced smile, "Suite 812."
The elevator ride was short and it only took a minute, after which he mistakenly walked
the wrong way down the corridor and had to double back to find the room he was looking for.
Before he could knock on the door, it swung open and he found himself facing a stunning,
twenty-something blonde-haired girl in a traditional maid's outfit. Charlie thought that, nowadays,
people only wore that sort of uniform at Halloween parties. A second look told him is wasn't
exactly like the costume party version, but it certainly accentuated every curve on the girl's body.
And there were definitely a lot of curves.
"Madam will be with you shortly," the girl said with an English accent, closing the door
behind Charlie as he stepped inside. "Please be so kind as to wait in here," she added as she
guided him to an adjuring room with a large couch and several overstuffed chairs.
"The Holiday Inn this isn't," Charlie thought as he took in the opulent furnishings.
"Can I get you anything while you wait?" the young woman asked.
"No, I'm fine, thank you," Charlie said, surprised by the question.
"Very well," she concluded before excusing herself to go back to whatever task Charlie's
arrival had interrupted.
As she walked out of the room, Charlie couldn't help but admire the way her ass swayed
as she walked.
'God, why couldn't she be the one I'm taking out to dinner?" he said to himself.
He was still watching when a noise from behind him told him he was no longer alone. It
took a moment for him to recognize the sound; it had been one of those forced coughs that
people made to let you know they were there.
"Oh damn," he thought as he turned around in the direction of the cough, "please don't
let her have caught me checking out her maid's ass."
The woman standing a few feet behind him was about an inch shorter than his own five
foot seven, with short hair that was a mixture of steel gray and white highlights. She had a very
slim build that bordered on skinny and a bust that could almost be called non-existent. In trying
to approximate her age, Charlie decided that the upper range of Brenda's guess was closer to
the mark.
'Don't worry, young man," the woman said with a slight smile. "Bridget tends to have
that effect on most men. I won't hold it against you."
Charlie felt a surge of relief. For a second, he had a vision of the night ending even
before it had begun. How would he even explain that to Mr. Harrison?
"Mrs. Orzeskowa, I'm Charles Owens, from Tyler, Dallas, and Harrison," he said, trying
to sound as cheerful as he could.
"It's very nice to meet you, Charles Owens from Tyler, Dallas, and Harrison," she
replied, with a cheerful tone that didn't have to be forced, "but I'm afraid I'm not Mrs.
Orzeskowa. My name is Jacqueline Foster-Brown; I'm Mrs. Orzeskowa's executive assistant."
"Oh," was all Charlie could say before another woman came into the room from a
different entrance, speaking as she did.
"Jackie, be sure that those letters go out with a messenger tonight, I don't want them to
wait until tomorrow," said the new arrival, who was dressed in a flattering but conservative blue
dress that came down to just below her knees. A beaded bodice covered the top half of the
dress, and that in turn was partially concealed by a matching jacket that definitely hadn't come
off the rack at Sears. "And I want you to call Jerry Irving in the morning and confirm our
appointment with the board next Monday."
She paused and looked up from the watch band she had been adjusting to see Charlie
standing there. A moment passed as she carefully checked his appearance; then a smile of
approval formed on her lips.
"Mrs. Orzeskowa, I'm Charles Owens, from Tyler, Dallas, and Harrison," he said, this
time the words coming much easier.
"But of course you are, dear," she said as, stepping past him, she picked up a small
black purse that had been resting on the coffee table.
Miss Foster-Brown presented an open leather bound folder to Mrs. Orzeskowa so that
she could sign the letters she had just mentioned. As unobtrusively as he could, taking a
cautious lesson from the way he'd checked out the maid, Charlie took a careful look at Mrs.
Orzeskowa and tried to balance what was in front of him with the mental image he had formed
over the long afternoon.
The same height as her executive assistant, Eliza Orzeskowa had a more developed
body, with breasts that, while not as large as Bridget's, perfectly complemented her form. She
had pure white hair, cut very short, at least a half inch above her neck line. Charlie had always
thought of white hair of a sign of age, but on her it seemed to have more of an ageless effect.
Her face had its share of character lines, but they were offset by an image of strength and
vitality. It was harder to try and guess her age than it had been for Miss Foster-Brown, but he
was sure it had to be on the low end of the scale Brenda had suggested. It would later shock
Charlie to discover that the last birthday the businesswoman had celebrated had been her sixty-
second.
"Well, I think that finishes whatever business we needed to get done this evening," Mrs.
Orzeskowa said as she signed the last letter.
"I'll make sure these go out right away," Jacqueline said as she closed the folder and put
it under her arm.
"Excellent," the older woman said before turning to her escort and asking if he was
ready to go.
"Yes, Ma'am," Charlie quickly said.
"Eliza ," she said.
"Excuse me?" Charlie asked.
"You can call me Eliza ," she repeated. "I don't want to hear a Ma'am or anything like
that for the rest of the evening."
"Yes, Ma'am," Charlie said without thinking, then corrected himself and used her name.
"Good boy," Eliza smiled as she walked past him and gently tapped his cheek.
"Have a good time," Jacqueline said as they headed for the door, which was already
being opened by Bridget.
"This is definitely not turning out to be what I imagined," Charlie thought as he followed
Eliza out the door, this time keeping his eyes right where they were supposed to be.
-=-=-=
As had been stated in the memorandum now hidden inside his suit jacket, there was a
limousine waiting for them at the hotel entrance. The uniform clad driver was waiting at the curb
and had the rear door open only a few seconds after he spotted them coming out. The company
was certainly sparing no expense, Charlie thought as he waited until Eliza moved into the back
seat before getting in behind her.
As he passed the chauffeur, Charlie paused to look for any kind of reaction from him
about the obvious difference between his and his "date's" ages. Try as he could, he couldn't
notice one. Evidently, he concluded as he settled into the back seat, pairings like this weren't
that out of the ordinary in his line of work.
Even on a weeknight, midtown traffic was midtown traffic and the ride to the restaurant
took almost twice as long as it would've taken to just walk the ten blocks. If this had been a
regular date, Charlie would've just suggested they could cover the distance better on foot, but
since he wasn't footing the bill, he might as well just relax and enjoy the extravagance.
The ride was uneventful and except for a few casual remarks about what a nice evening
it was turning out to be, it passed in silence. Which was fine with Charlie, who thought that the
less he said the less the chance he would say the wrong thing.
When the door opened in front of the restaurant, Charlie got out first and remembered to
extend his hand to help Eliza out onto the sidewalk. His mother would be proud of him, he
thought, seeing him remember the courtesy lessons she had drummed into him while growing
up.
Again, in accordance with the written instructions, there was a hostess waiting for them
at the entrance and she quickly led them past the long line of people waiting to be seated and
over to what Charlie knew without asking had to be the best table in the house. As soon as
they'd been seated, the hostess raised her hand and a waiter who had been standing against a
far wall quickly moved to her side.
He introduced himself as Robert and then proceeded to rattle off the night's specialties,
offering his opinion on each entree. As he listened, Charlie realized he had yet another problem.
The waiter might as well have been speaking another language because he didn't recognize
anything he described. He'd known this wasn't going to be the kind of place where you ordered a
cheeseburger and fries, but he never imagined it would be this bad. He was going to look like an
idiot when he tried to order.
"My oh my, they do all sound so good," Eliza said, drawing the attention of both the
waiter and hostess away from Charlie, "but I think I'm really in the mood for something simpler.
Do you think you could get the kitchen to grill me a small steak, medium rare, with a bit of
mashed potatoes on the side and perhaps some green beans and cream corn?"
Surprise filled Charlie's face, but it was nothing compared to the look on the faces of the
man and woman who had been waiting for their order. Their mutual reaction was more akin to
shock, as if this had been some roadside steakhouse instead of one of the city's premier
eateries. The waiter actually opened his mouth to say something, but a quick look from the
hostess held him in check. The special instructions she had been given for this particular table
would forgive a multitude of sins
"Very good, Madame," the waiter said, swallowing his disapproval as he turned his gaze
back to Charlie and asked, "and you, sir?"
Charlie didn't even have to think about it, quickly saying that he would have the same.
"Excellent," Eliza said, adding that if it wouldn't be too much more trouble, could the
waiter check with the wine steward and see if their cellar contained a particular vintage that she'd
always been quite fond of?
With his limited knowledge of wines, his usual selections based on what he could afford
to bring when he was invited to someone's house for dinner, Charlie had no idea what had just
been ordered. The waiter obviously did, because his previous dissatisfaction vanished with the
thought of what a bottle that Eliza had ordered cost. That alone would easily triple the gratuity
he might have ordinarily expected.
"So Charles," Eliza said as the staff went off to place their requests, "or do you prefer
Charlie? Tell me about yourself."
Charlie started by saying he preferred the latter and then told a very simplified version of
his life. It didn't take long; in fact he was just about finished when the wine steward appeared
with Eliza 's selection, presenting the label for her approval before pouring a small measure into
a glass for her to sample. Once she had done so and expressed her approval, the steward filled
both their glasses before depositing the bottle in an ice bucket that a bus boy had set up during
the interval.
"Try it – I'm sure you're going to love it," Eliza said, gesturing to the now filled glass in
front of Charlie.
Not being much of a wine drinker, Charlie took a hesitant first sip, then a much larger
one once he realized that it was unlike anything he had ever tasted before. The label, of which
he'd gotten a quick glimpse when it had been presented to Eliza , had been in French, so he had
no idea what it was called. All he knew was that it had to have been ridiculously expensive.
When he later found out how much it cost, he was glad the company was playing the bill
because that single bottle would've eaten up his weekly check and then some.
The dinner conversation, which began to flow much more freely once dinner began to be
served, proved, like so much else tonight, to be not what Charlie had expected. On spotting one
of the players for the New York Yankees a few tables away, Eliza made the comment that the
Bronx Bombers weren't a bad team, but they did finish the previous year three games behind her
own Red Sox. Baseball, however, turned out not to be her favorite sport. A hockey enthusiast,
she said the Bruins' Stanley Cup win over the New York Rangers had been a high point of her
year.
It also turned out that, for someone who came of age during the big band era, Eliza also
had an unlikely appreciation for modern music. Something he could hardly say about his own
parents, who had been born a decade later. Depending on her mood, Eliza could listen to the
Beatles and Beach Boys just as easily as she might to swing or classical music.
She asked a few more questions about his life, including what his plans for the future
were. Since he was working at one of the city's premier law firms, Eliza wondered if he had any
thought of becoming a lawyer himself. Charlie replied that it had occurred to him, but the cost of
going on to law school was prohibitive right now, even with financial aid.
Eliza , Charlie learned, had been a forty-four year old widow when she married the twice
divorced and sixteen years her senior Alexander Orzeskowa. They themselves had been
childless, but his previous marriages had left him with a son and daughter, now both fully grown.
Neither of them, it turned out, had any interest in the family business as anything other than a
source of income, so it fell to Eliza to take over operational control of the corporation when
Alexander passed away four years ago.
By the time they'd progressed from the main entrée to desert, it was as if they'd know
each other days instead of just hours. The depth of their conversation had come that easily.
"Charlie, can I ask a question and get an honest answer?" Eliza asked as she sipped her
after dinner coffee.
"Of course," he replied.
"I'm curious as to what your reaction was when they first asked you, or did they just tell
you, that you were taking some old lady out for dinner and a show?" Eliza said. "And please be
honest, I promise not to be offended if you had a negative reaction."
Charlie took a deep breath and then decided that since he'd been pretty truthful in his
answers so far, there was no reason to stop now.
"I thought I was being set up as some sort of sacrificial lamb," he answered, trying to be
as diplomatic about it as he could.
"An honest answer," Eliza smiled. "I appreciate that. And if I was in your position, I
probably would've felt the same way."
She paused for a moment to take another sip and went on.
"Just for fun, let's look at it from a more common perspective for a minute," Eliza
proposed. "Suppose I was a man, instead of a woman, and I said I wanted to have dinner with
some secretary that caught my eye, say that stuck-up but pretty thing that sits outside Brendon's
office. Do you think that an assumption might be made that I was expecting more than just
company at dinner?"
"I suppose so," Charlie said hesitantly, now wondering if maybe he shouldn't have
agreed to be so honest.
"So, tell me, and remember that you promised to be honest," Eliza went on. "Did you
think that tonight was going to involve more than just dinner and a show?"
'I..." Charlie now hesitated even more, "I... I was led to believe that it was a possibility."
"And did that scare you?" she asked.
"A little," he admitted.
"Only a little?" she smiled. "Then I've got to give you a lot of credit, Charlie, because if I
was in your position, I think I would've been terrified. There you are, being told by your boss that
he expects you to spend the night with some old lady that you've never even met. And if I know
Brendon Harrison, he might have made it sound like a request at first, but he would've also made
it quite clear he expected you to do whatever it took to ensure that the old lady was in an
agreeable mood come tomorrow morning."
Charlie didn't reply, but the expression on his face told her that she'd hit the nail right on
the proverbial head. It was like she'd been right there in the room with them.
"I thought so," Eliza grinned. "Let me tell you something. I've known Brendon Harrison
a very long time, and even from the start he's always struck me as an arrogant little prick. But to
give the devil his due, he's also very good at his job."
She paused for a moment then continued.
"He can, however, also be more than a bit condescending, especially when it comes to
women in positions of responsibility. In his mind, it's still 1961 and all women in the workplace
are good for is getting his coffee in the morning and bending over his desk after hours."
Charlie wondered if Eliza actually knew about Mr. Harrison and Paula Madison, or was
she just making a general statement. He got his answer a moment later.
"I make it a point to know everything about the people I do business with, Charlie," Eliza
explained, "and how their actions might affect my own company. I'm not going to worry if some
executive is bopping his thirty-something secretary, but if he's got some underage girl shacked
up somewhere, I want to know. By the way, in case you're curious, I'm told that while she might
come across a bit cold on the exterior, she's really something once she gets going."
Charlie tried to suppress a grin while he digested that little piece of information. Then he
returned to the subject at hand.
"So you always intended to renew the contract with Tyler, Dallas and Harrison? Charlie
asked.
"Contrary to what Brendon Harrison and some of the remaining Neanderthals might
think," Eliza replied, "I don't make any business decisions without serious deliberation. Since
the relationship between your firm and my company continues to be mutually beneficial, I really
see no reason to change it."
Charlie felt a small sense of relief, knowing that she was planning to sign the agreement
come tomorrow morning.
"And while I'm at it, let me set your mind to rest on that other matter, Charlie," Eliza
added. "All I'm expecting from you tonight is a bit of friendly company here at dinner and later at
the play – which you've been providing handsomely so far.
Eliza went on to explain that if she'd accepted one of the partners' invitations, the night
would've turned into just another business meeting, with them extolling the advantages of
continuing her relationship with their firm. She much preferred to spend some of her leisure time
with young people not involved in business, or at least not on a high level, because it helped her
view the ever changing world from a younger perspective. Picking one at random was just a
little game she had come up some years back, one that had proven to be quite entertaining.
"And I'll let you in on a little secret, Charlie," she concluded, her voice dropping so low
that she had to lean close to him so that he could hear. "Old lady that I might be, I can still get
laid if I want to, and never have I had to trick anyone into my bed."
-=-=-=
The seats they had for the play were, like everything else tonight, first rate. They were
close enough for you to almost feel like you were part of the performance, yet distant enough
that you couldn't see the theatrical makeup the actors wore. Charlie wasn't much for musicals
but this one did make him laugh. When they had a few minutes to talk about the play during the
intermission, Charlie asked Eliza if kids were really like that in the 50s.
"You ask because I'm ancient and I was around back then," She responded, the small
smile on her face saying she wasn't being serious.
"I don't think I could ever think of you as being ancient," Charlie said truthfully.
"Okay, that answer gets you off the hook," Eliza replied. "The Sandy Dumbrowski
character reminds me of some of the girls in the Catholic school I sent my daughter to back then.
They weren't all like that though; there were some girls like Rizzo too. Tell me, if you were back
there at Rydell, which one of them would you want to date?"
Charlie took a moment to consider his answer. The actress playing the bad girl, Rizzo,
had certainly caught his notice, or to be more accurate, her big boobs had caught his attention.
So much so that he took the time to look in the playbill and find that her real name was Adrienne
Barbeau.
"I'm not sure," he finally decided to answer.
The answer didn't seem to satisfy Eliza , but the call to return to their seats cut off any
further discussion. Dropping the cups from their orange drinks into the trash, they headed back
to their seats.
The second act was just as good as the first and Charlie had his eyes totally locked on
Rizzo as she sang, "There are worse things I could do". So much so that he didn't even notice
Eliza slowly move her hand across his lap, bringing it down and placing her open palm on the
inside of his left thigh. Startled by the sudden contact, Charlie almost jumped up out of his seat.
Especially since her little finger had brushed against his semi-erect cock.
He snapped his head around, even as Eliza casually removed her hand. Her gaze was
still locked on the stage, but there was just the hint of a mischievous smile visible at the corner of
her mouth.
"I guess that answers which one of the girls you'd like to date," she whispered just loud
enough for him to hear.
The rest of the play passed uneventfully, at least in the audience, but Charlie couldn't
believe what Eliza had done. He couldn't imagine any of the girls he'd dated ever doing
something like that in so public a setting. Yet once the play ended and they headed for the exits,
Eliza acted like nothing had happened.
When they reached the waiting limousine, right where the driver said it would be, Eliza
hesitated to climb back in. She seemed to be thinking of something and Charlie thought it best
not to interrupt her.
"You know, Charlie, it's turned out to be a very nice night, weatherwise, in addition to
everything else," she said, "and I was just thinking that, since my hotel is only four blocks away,
why don't we just send this nice young man on his way and walk there ourselves? That is, if you
don't need him for a ride home afterwards."
According the instructions in his pocket, a chauffeured ride back to Brooklyn wasn't part
of the game plan. Like Cinderella, Charlie turned back into a scullery maid at midnight and his
coach turned into a pumpkin, well, a regular taxi cab at least, paid for by the still large roll of
twenty dollar bills in his other pocket.
"It wouldn't be a problem at all," Charlie said, stepping over to the uniformed driver and
explaining that they were done for the night.
The driver produced a small clipboard with a form for Charlie to sign, after which the
twenty-one year old reached into his pocket and came out with a few twenties which he then
handed over with the board. The driver was surprised by the amount of the gratuity, but Charlie
just smiled. It was easy to be overly generous with someone else's money. Especially since he
assumed he'd have to give back whatever was left over when he went back to work tomorrow.
Once the driver pulled away, Eliza took Charlie by the arm and they took their time
walking back to her hotel, stopping to look at one attraction or another along the way. Soon
enough, however, they were standing in the lobby where his little adventure had started, and it
was time for it all to come to an end.
"Well, I must say that you've been a wonderful escort, Charlie," Eliza said, holding each
of his hands in one of her own.
"Thank you," Charlie replied, the smile on his face genuine, as he really had enjoyed the
evening.
"So, with all your responsibilities to Tyler, Dallas and Harrison faithfully fulfilled," she
went on, "I guess all that's left is for us to say goodnight."
"I guess so," Charlie agreed.
"Well, goodnight then, Charlie," she said as she leaned forward and kissed him on his
cheek before releasing his hands, "I just want to say again that I've had a very nice evening and
I really enjoyed your company."
"Me too," Charlie again smiled.
Eliza turned to walk away and had taken a few steps when she paused. Charlie had
been watching her walk away and had yet to move. To his surprise, she turned back around.
"You know, Charlie," she said once she'd retraced her steps, "there really isn't any
reason why the night has to end so soon. Unless of course you have somewhere else you have
to go."
"No, I don't."
"Well then, would you like to come up for a cup of coffee, or maybe a nightcap?" Eliza
asked.
Without even taking more than a moment to think about it, Charlie heard himself say
that, yes he would.
-=-=-=
Eliza used a key to open the door to her suite, explaining as she did that since she
planned to be out for the evening, she had given Bridget the rest of the night off and Jacqueline
had her own room on a lower floor. Once they were inside, she told Charlie to make himself at
home while she used the ladies' room.
Taking off his jacket and loosening his tie, Charlie sat down on the couch and relaxed.
The night had been such an enjoyable revelation, he had really been disappointed to see it end.
Even extending it as little as an hour was definitely worth it.
When Eliza had been gone about five minutes, Charlie began to wonder if maybe he
was supposed to be doing something other than just sitting there. He didn't recall her saying
whether they were having coffee or alternately a nightcap, although he preferred the former,
because a drink this late might make him sleepy on the way home. Then again, since he wasn't
going to be driving, what difference would that make?
There was a small bar setup over in the corner, but no facilities that he could see for
making a cup of coffee. A suite like this might indeed have a kitchenette; if not, they could
always call down for room service. It was better, he decided, to wait for her to come back to
settle the matter.
A second five minutes passed before Eliza made her reappearance, coming back into
the room through the entrance she had used earlier in the evening, behind Charlie as he sat on
the couch.
"I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long," Eliza said, catching the younger man's
attention.
"Not at all," Charlie replied as he started to rise and instinctively turned in the direction
of her voice. "I wasn't sure if you preferred coffee or a drink, so I thought it better to wai…"
As Eliza came into Charlie's field of view, his mind abruptly
short-circuited, robbing him of the power of speech. It was as if his brain suddenly couldn't sort
out the image before him.
Eliza had discarded the conservative outfit she'd worn to dinner, replacing it with a
flowing, silk nightgown. A translucent red, it was low cut enough to give ample view of her
breasts and sheer enough to also display a broad outline of her nipples. Over the sleepwear was
a floor length red lace robe, also designed more to accentuate than to conceal. It reminded
Charlie of the lingerie catalogue he had once swiped out of his older sister's room back when he
was sixteen.
"Charlie, are you okay?" Eliza asked, his reaction hardly what she had expected.
"No… I mean… I just didn't expect…" he stammered.
Eliza continued to look at him with concern, but after a few more seconds, realization
dawned and her expression turned to dismay.
"Oh dear God," she gasped in a low voice, "you actually thought coming up for coffee
meant coming up for coffee."
It took a few more seconds for Charlie to understand what she was talking about, then it
hit him like a sledgehammer.
"Oh shit!" he exclaimed, feeling like a total ass.
"Charlie, I'm so sorry, I thought.." she started to say, then paused. "Oh, this is so
embarrassing," she added, pulling her robe closed as her face became a bit flushed.
Charlie continued to just stand there. He'd gotten his voice back, but he was unsure
what to say.
"Charlie, I want you to know I don't do this often," Eliza said, "I mean, inviting young
men up to my room for… well 'coffee'. It just seemed that we made a bit of a connection tonight
and I thought – oh never mind what I thought, because obviously I thought wrong."
"Eliza , it's okay," Charlie finally said, not missing the fact that she said "often" and not
"never" – a very big difference.
"You must think I'm just what Brendon Harrison probably described me as," she added,
"and I'll understand if you'd rather just leave."
Again, Charlie stood silent, considering his possibilities.
"And as I said before, my agreement with your firm was never really an issue," she
concluded, "so I don't want that to even enter into your thinking."
There was another long moment of silence, and then Charlie said the last thing Eliza
expected.
"But what if I don't want to go?" he asked.
Now it was Eliza 's turn to be stunned.
"Eliza , believe me, I would very much like to 'have coffee' with you," Charlie said as he
closed the distance between them. "It just took me by surprise, that's all."
"You really want to stay?" Eliza asked, giving him one more chance to change his mind.
A few hours ago, Charlie reflected as they came within arms' length, the thought of what
he was about to do was a dreaded possibility. Now, after knowing Eliza for only a few hours, he
couldn't imagine a worse prospect than simply turning around and walking out the door.
"Yes," he smiled as he took her hands in his, "I really want to stay."
"Then, my young friend," Eliza grinned, "as Bette Davis once said, 'Fasten your seats,
it's going to be a bumpy night!'"
Charlie had only a vaguest idea who Bette Davis was, but the quote did sound exciting.
Now, with only inches between them, Eliza grabbed the loose tie around Charlie's neck
and pulled his mouth to her own. The ferocity of her kiss would forever dispel the notion that age
was anything but a number.
-=-=-=
With Charlie's tie still in her hands, Eliza led him into the bedroom from which she had
emerged from only a few minutes before. He just had enough time to take note that the room
was as expensively decorated as the rest of the suite before, with a snap of her arm, she pulled
the tie off him and sent it flying across the room.
"Scared?" she unexpectedly asked.
"No," he replied, unable to keep just a hint of uncertainty out of his voice.
"Not even a little?" Eliza ventured.
"Maybe," he then admitted.
"Good," she smiled. "Nothing like a little uncertainty to add to the excitement.
With that she moved behind him and, reaching around his chest, began to work her way
down the buttons of his shirt. When the last one had been undone, she slid the white top off and
tossed it aside. From there her hands moved beneath his undershirt, caressing his chest before
that too was lifted off and tossed aside.
Lifting each leg backward, Eliza slipped off his socks and loafers, then moved back up to
undo his belt buckle. In no time at all, all Charlie had on was his Fruit of the Looms.
"Charlie, would you do something for me?" Eliza asked.
"Anything," Charlie immediately replied, thinking that there was little he was going to say
no to at this point.
He heard a drawer, undoubtedly in the night table, open and close, and then Eliza
stepped once more in front of him. There was something in her hand, and he was suddenly
almost afraid to look down and see what it was.
"Could you wear this for me?" Eliza asked, bringing her hand up to reveal a black
sleeping mask.
Charlie was both relieved and a bit confused.
"It will be fun, trust me," Eliza said, explaining it was a little game she liked to play.
"I guess so," he finally agreed.
"Wonderful," she smiled as she slipped the elastic band over the back of his head and
placed the mask over his eyes. "You okay in there?" Eliza asked.
Charlie said he was, and Eliza replied that she wanted him to just relax and just focus on
what he was feeling.
"Trust me," she said again as he could tell she was once more moving behind her,
"you're going to enjoy this."
Trying to reach out with his other senses, Charlie could hear the rustle of fabric, and then
felt Eliza 's hand softly rubbing across his back. Then she moved around to his chest, where her
fingers playfully tickled his nipples, causing them to become erect.
A warm softness now pressed against his back, one that he knew had to be Eliza 's
breasts. The crackle of silk had to have been her nightgown joining his clothing on the floor.
Her lips brushed against his neck as she tilted his head far enough back to kiss him. The
kiss was as warm and inviting as the one out in the living area, her tongue brushing against him
with the promise of joys to come.
Her hands moved down the length of his chest, across his stomach, to slide under the
waistband of his briefs. A soft moan escaped Charlie's lips as he felt the fingers of one hand
come to rest under his balls while the others gently rubbed up and down his cock. Just that
simple touch was enough to bring a hardness that was almost painful, restrained as it was by the
tightness of his shorts.
Eliza seemed to be able to tell that, because her next motion was to relieve him of that
last bit of clothing, sliding it down to his ankles where he could simply kick them away. Then her
fingers began to play with his manhood in earnest, massaging his balls while at the same slowly
pumping his hard cock.
"Feels a lot nicer when someone does it for you, doesn't it, Charlie?" Eliza whispered
into his ear, leaning close enough to it that she could run her tongue along the outer edge. "But
I'm sure a handsome young man like you has no problems finding young ladies willing to do it for
him."
Charlie's reply was another soft moan, which seemed to please Eliza just the same. She
continued to play with his cock and balls, picking up the tempo for a bit, then slowing down when
it seemed he was getting a bit too excited.
"Of course, the one bad thing about young ladies," Eliza said, moving over to his other
ear, "is that sometimes they spend much too much time worrying about their reputation, about
what a young man might think if they were too forward, or even, shall we say aggressive?
Again, Charlie could only grunt in reply, his attention absorbed by the wondrous
sensations Eliza 's ministrations were spreading across his naked body.
"Fortunately, an old lady like me doesn't have that problem," she said in a voice that
was practically purring.
Before Charlie could even think about what she'd just said, his senses exploded as he
felt a wet warmth suddenly engulf his cock. Without benefit of his sight, he'd been caught
unawares as Eliza again shifted in front of him and took him in her mouth.
In his entire life, only three girls had ever done to Charlie what Eliza was doing now, and
one of them had been a professional at his cousin's bachelor party. It was immediately
apparent that all of them together didn't have the older woman's skill.
Her tongue seemed to be everywhere at once, washing across sensitive flesh with a
dexterity born of decades of practice. Twice she brought him to the edge of orgasm, then back
again. Even more times she swallowed his length, and while he still considered himself just
average, no one else had ever done that.
Eliza continued to suck his cock for a few more minutes, running her hands up and down
his body as she did, one concentrating on his chest above and the other caressing the cheeks of
his ass.
Then she abruptly stopped, rose to her feet, and told Charlie to lie down on the carpeted
floor. By this point, he did anything she suggested without question.
Once he was laid out on the plush floor, Eliza brought her mouth back to his cock,
picking up right where she left off. At times it was torture as his body begged for release, but it
was a wonderful torture all the same.
Then, a few minutes later, just when Charlie thought he couldn't stand it any more, Eliza
simply stopped and released any hold on him. He laid there in silence, wondering what was next
but unwilling to break the mood by simply asking.
His answer came a few moments later as an even more fantastic sensation wrapped
itself around his cock. Even blind as he was, there was no mistaking what Eliza had done,
climbing on top of him and impaling herself on his cock.
"Oh God!" he cried out as he felt the walls of her pussy wrap around his cock, the
pleasures of but minutes before increasing a dozenfold.
One of the reasons that Eliza liked to play this game with the blindfold was that it
bothered her that, at this point in her life, she sometimes needed a little help before she could
take a man inside of her. Still, what nature had taken away, modern pharmaceuticals easily
replaced, and it took only a few moments to make herself ready. Judging by the smile on
Charlie's face, Eliza didn't think he minded the short delay.
Back and forth she rocked, pumping his cock with increasing vigor. If Charlie had been
close to the edge before, he was now long past his point of no return. He took one last deep
breath, then his cock exploded with an intensity he hadn't felt since the first time he learned just
what else it was good for.
The whole episode had been far too brief to bring Eliza anything other than a series of
small pleasant sensations, but she didn't mind. This was just an overture, something to just
warm them up before the main performance. She would, she was sure, get all the delights she
hoped for soon enough.
-=-=-=
"Did you enjoy that," Eliza asked as she removed the sleep mask from the now sitting
Charlie, "the blindfold, I mean?"
"Actually, I did," Charlie admitted, thinking it had been the most unusual sexual
experience of his life. He never would've thought it before, but having the older woman take
control like that had been an incredible turn-on.
"Well, let's just see what else we can find that you might enjoy," Eliza said, leaning
forward and kissing him at the same time.
Her hands dropped to her breasts, where she vigorously massaged them for a few
moments, bringing her nipples to life. She could almost feel Charlie's eyes locked on the stiff
tips, watching her rub the edge of her fingers against them.
With the blindfold no longer in place, Charlie now had the chance to fully appreciate the
body of the woman before him. It was true that it wasn't as tight, or bountiful, as that of say
Paula or Bridget, two women whom he had imagined naked in the last twenty-four hours. But it
had what he'd often heard referred to as character, and in that regard he found it enticing indeed.
Back at dinner, Eliza had mentioned that she was an enthusiastic tennis player and liked
to play at least two or three times a week. In addition, she'd also shared her belief that
maintaining a proper regimen of good diet and exercise was the key to a long healthy life. And
whatever else might be said about her body, healthy was certainly a word that had to be used.
"Would you like a taste?" she asked.
With eagerness in his eyes, Charlie leaned forward and accepted Eliza's offering,
burying his face deep in the valley of her bosom, kissing the sides of each mound in turn. From
there he worked his way inch by inch to each stiff rosebud, closing his lips around it and taking it
deep into his mouth.
Eliza sighed loudly as Charlie's mouth and tongue worked their way across first one
breast, then the other. Instinctively, she had guessed that he was a breast man, but then again,
it had been her experience that most men were. Size didn't really matter; in fact, some men,
she'd also learned, were actually put off by oversized mounds. Both of her husbands, and a
number of men between and afterwards, had always said she had perfectly rounded breasts.
From the way he was going at them, Eliza thought it fair to say that Charlie shared that opinion.
With one hand gently resting against the back of his head, Eliza ran her fingers through
Charlie's light blond hair as she whispered words of encouragement into his ear. The touch of
his tongue against her flesh was indeed delightful, and she wasted no opportunity to tell him just
how much so.
As he concentrated on her breasts, Eliza allowed her other hand to drop between his
legs and casually brush against his cock. Despite having just been drained, it was already
starting to again show signs of life again, prompting her to allow herself at least a few seconds to
appreciate the resilience of youth.
Rising to her feat, she carried Charlie with her, and guided them both to the edge of her
bed. Sitting herself down on it, she spread her legs wide in invitation, an unspoken request that
the young man was quick to accept.
Like many of his friends, Charlie wasn't all that keen on going down on a woman,
especially after intercourse. But there was no way he was going to deny Eliza that which she had
so freely already done for him.
His tongue quickly found its mark, sliding deep within her. As his tongue rolled against
the soft walls of her pussy, Charlie was pleasantly surprised to find it both sweet and clean.
Later on, he would realize that during the brief interval between his climax within her and the
removal of his blindfold, Eliza had stepped into the bathroom and cleaned herself up. Evidently,
good hygiene was one of her passions as well.
Charlie's skill as a cunnilingist was never going to win him any awards, if there were such
things, but it was enough to set Eliza to moaning in appreciation of his efforts. What he lacked in
talent he made up for in enthusiasm. Guided again by the soft touch of her hand on the back of
his head, as well as the highs and lows of her soft cries, Charlie soon found all of her sensitive
areas and concentrated on those. They say with practice comes improvement, and he certainly
was getting his share of practice.
Twenty minutes later he was still at it, bringing as pleasant a feeling to Eliza's body as
she might have asked for. It would never be enough to bring her to orgasm, but she had never
expected it would be. Charlie had, she was certain, other skills that would make up for that
deficiency.
Shifting her body, she broke Charlie's contact with her sex and gently pulled him upward.
He again followed her guidance and found himself once more face to face with her. She kissed
him softly at first, and then followed with a second and third kiss, each increasing in depth and
intensity. On their third kiss Charlie once more felt her tongue invade his mouth and his own
moved to meet it. Without hesitation, she shared the sweet nectar her arousal had left in his
mouth; delighting in the thought that this time she wouldn't need any help.
As they continued to play dueling tongues, Eliza again reached down between Charlie's
legs, this time to find his manhood fully erect. She glided her fingers up and down its length,
satisfying herself with its hardness. Then she again shifted position, so that her head replaced
her hand between his legs.
Unlike most of the women of her generation, Eliza truly loved the thrill of a hard cock in
her mouth. She never understood it when close friends had once described the act as simply
disgusting. That the first man that she had done it with had been her first true love might have
been a factor in her feelings, but once the genie had let out of the bottle, it never occurred to her
to deny the pleasure to anyone who had come after him.
As he had before, Charlie reacted like any man she had known, rapidly losing himself in
the soft velvet of her throat. He moaned repeatedly and loudly as her tongue raced down the
span of his shaft, whirling around his balls beneath before reversing direction. Then Eliza would
engulf his cock whole, taking it all the way down to its base.
She could feel the fires building in his body, and the pressures that accompanied those
fires. She used a little trick she had learned before Charlie had even been born to damper his
exuberance, preventing what had seemed an imminent eruption. The reprieve was only
temporary, but it would be long enough.
Eliza changed position, this time dropping onto the mattress alongside Charlie. That
lasted but a moment, because with a strength that surprised the younger man, she pulled him on
top of her. She took hold of his cock and guided him inside of her, not that he really needed any
direction. Right now, he wouldn't have traded being with her for any woman he'd ever known.
Eliza let out a long moan of satisfaction as she felt Charlie press all the way inside of
her. Simultaneously, he echoed her cry as the walls of her pussy wrapped around his cock. It
might not have been the tightest of fits, but it was certainly a most comfortable one.
Wasting no time, Eliza wrapped her legs around his back, pulling him as deep inside of
her as possible. Charlie reacted to the restriction of his movements by increasing the frequency
of his thrusts, more than doubling the number of pleasuring waves radiating across her body,
waves that soon increased in strength as well.
Soon enough, they were matched in a perfect rhythm, each movement by one
complementing that of the other. Streams of sweat ran down their bodies as they lost
themselves in their passion. Hearts raced and breaths grew shallow, but still they continued.
Primeval was the only word to describe it, as age, social standing and all the trappings of
modern society faded into an indecipherable blur. All that remained was a man and a woman,
and what they needed from each other in this place and time.
The climax of their efforts was heralded with a scream, but neither of them could later
remember which of them it had come from. All they recalled was the quaking of their bodies and
the all consuming fires that flashed across both of them. Every inch of their flesh came alive, if
only for one, brief, unimaginable moment.
So intense had it all been that it was at least five minutes before either of them broke the
silence.
"That was," Charlie said, his words punctuated by the need to still catch his breath,
"totally incredible."
"That it was," Eliza agreed, her own words coming with just a little more ease. "But you
know what else it was?" she asked.
Charlie just replied with a blank stare, having no idea what the answer she was looking
for might be.
"Just the beginning," Eliza smiled, a look of eager wickedness clear on her face.
-=-=-=
A sudden flood of sunlight shocked Charlie out of the partial sleep he had been enjoying,
forcing him back to full consciousness. It took a moment for him to remember where he was and
what had happened last night. A smile filled his face as he recalled the details.
"God, how many times did we do it last night?" he asked himself as he turned his head
and only then realized that he was alone in the bed.
"Good morning, Mr. Owens," a voice that was slightly familiar said from the direction of
the large windows on the far wall.
"That wasn't Eliza ," was his first thought as he brought his hand up to shield his eyes
from the light of the morning sun.
Two further realizations hit him a heartbeat later, the second one twice as disturbing as
the first.
"Fuck, that's Jacqueline Foster-Brown," he said to himself, just as he realized that he
was laying there stark naked.
Grabbing a pillow from the empty side of the bed, Charlie quickly covered his exposed
cock, knowing that there had been no way that the administrative assistant hadn't seen it.
Strangely enough, though, she hadn't reacted to his condition, or even his presence in her
employer's bed as anything out of the ordinary.
"I took the liberty of ordering you some breakfast; it's out on the table in the receiving
room," she said as she walked across the room in the other direction, giving him the chance to
pull one of the sheets around him. "I wasn't sure what you might like, so I ordered a small
variety, some of which should be to your liking."
"Thank you," Charlie managed to say as he looked around the room for his clothes, then
realized they weren't where they'd been dropped the night before.
"I also took the liberty of sending your suit down to be
dry-cleaned," she added as she neared the doorway. "You'll find it hanging in the closet."
"What time is it?" Charlie asked, realizing that with all that had been done it had to be
mid-morning at least.
"It's half past eleven," Jacqueline said without checking her watch, obviously
anticipating his question.
His first thought was that he was so, so late for work, but then he realized that this was
one day that no one was going to complain. His next thought was, where was Eliza? That too
seemed to have been anticipated by the grey-haired woman.
"Mrs. Orzeskowa felt it better to let you sleep in, so to speak, rather than wake you
before she left for her meeting with Mr. Harrison," Jacqueline offered. "She asked me to thank
you in her stead for a very enjoyable evening."
"She already had the meeting with Mr. Harrison?" Charlie asked, not remembering
exactly what time that was supposed to be.
"The agreement was signed more than an hour ago," the well dressed woman said,
thinking that was his main concern. "By now, Mrs. Orzeskowa is well on her way to LaGuardia to
take the Eastern shuttle back to Boston. I just stayed behind to wrap up a few loose ends."
"I guess that's that then," Charlie said out loud to himself, thinking that was all he was,
after all – a loose end.
This time, Jacqueline made no comment, but left him to shower and dress.
-=-=-=
"Good afternoon, Charlie," Brenda said as he stepped through the double glass doors,
"and don't you look fabulous today."
"Hi Brenda," Charlie said as he stepped up to the desk, wondering if, since she seemed
to know everything that went on around here, she knew why he was so dressed up.
"I guess you're wondering why I'm wearing a suit today," Charlie said.
"Well, actually," Brenda said in a low, conspiratorial tone, "I already know."
"Oh," Charlie simply said, then asked her in an equally low voice if anyone else knew.
"Not yet," Brenda whispered, "but I'm sure by the end of the day most people will."
"Great," Charlie said under his breath.
"Mr. Harrison said he wanted to see you in his office whenever you got in," Brenda said,
her tone of voice rising to a more normal level.
"Then I guess I'd better get right over there," Charlie replied.
Unlike yesterday, Paula actually made an effort to be friendly when Charlie approached
her desk. He wondered if that was because she still didn't know why her boss had been so
conciliatory towards him the day before and was just hedging her bets, or because, like Brenda,
she knew something Charlie would have preferred that she didn't.
"You can go right in, Charlie," Paula said, flashing him an uncharacteristic smile.
Stepping into the now familiar office, Charlie saw the senior partner standing on a small
step-ladder, returning a research book to its place on his bookshelf. He called over his shoulder
for Charlie to take a seat, and then spent what seemed like a very long minute looking for
another volume before stepping down and taking a seat at his desk.
"Well, Charlie," he began, "I should start off by saying that this firm owes you a world of
thanks. As I'm sure you know, Mrs. Orzeskowa was in here earlier and she signed all the
relevant paperwork."
"I'm glad to hear that sir," Charlie said, trying to act at least a little surprised by the
news.
"So," Mr. Harrison said as he leaned back in his high leather chair, "tell me how it went
last night."
"Excuse me?" Charlie asked.
"How did it go last night?" he repeated. "Don't leave anything out. I want to hear all the
details."
Charlie thought about it for a moment, wondering how much the partner already knew.
Charlie was fairly certain that all the people the firm paid to make sure the night was a success
probably also reported back as to how their individual parts had played out. That would've
included the driver and the people at the restaurant, but not, well, probably not, the people at the
hotel. A high class establishment like that needed to enjoy a certain measure of confidentiality
about their guests. With that in mind, he tailored his story to what might have already been
reported back to Mr. Harrison.
"That's it?" the senior partner said as Charlie concluded his tale with the statement that
after he had walked Mrs. Orzeskowa back to her hotel, he had taken the subway to his brother's
apartment, where he had spent the night.
Charlie nodded his head as he answered in the affirmative.
"Nothing else happened?" Mr. Harrison asked again.
"Not that I can remember," Charlie lied, asking himself at the same time why he was
doing so, since it was now obvious that the whole thing had meant little to the woman whose bed
he had shared last night. "Oh, and I still have a good amount of the spending money left over
so, if you can tell me who I should turn it over to, I'll – "
"Oh, that," Mr. Harrison said, dismissing it with a wave of a hand. "You can just keep
whatever's left. Think of it as a bonus for a job well done."
Charlie wondered if he should say thanks but decided not to, thinking that he wouldn't be
able to say so without it sounding sarcastic.
"And nothing else happened," Mr. Harrison repeated in a way that Charlie took as
speaking more to himself than to him. "That makes this strange indeed."
Charlie wasn't sure what he was talking about, but as the older man had said it, he had
picked up a large, official looking envelope on his desk. From where he was sitting, Charlie
could see his name neatly typed across the front of it.
The envelope still in his hand, Mr. Harrison abruptly changed the subject and asked
Charlie if he ever heard of the Malcolm Tyler memorial scholarship.
Charlie said that he had; it was a scholarship, named after the late founding partner, that
the firm occasionally awarded to gifted students to allow them to attend law school. What he
didn't mention was that the whole thing was considered a load of crock, because whenever the
scholarship was awarded the deserving student more times than not turned out to be someone's
relative.
"Well, evidently, Mrs. Orzeskowa has heard of it too," Mr. Harrison said, "and just
before she signed the contracts, she asked, if we hadn't already awarded the scholarship this
year, didn't we think that it would be a very nice gesture if we did so to a deserving young man in
our office, who might otherwise never have the opportunity to attend law school."
It took a very long moment for that to sink in, a very long moment indeed.
"So congratulations, Charlie," Mr. Harrison said as he stood up and handled him the
envelope across his desk.
Charlie was too stunned to say anything but a weak thank you. Mr. Harrison said that
after lunch they would get a few pictures taken for publicity purposes; this sort of thing always
looked good for a company's image.
Charlie again thanked him, this time more strongly, then got up to leave. Just before he
closed the door behind him, he heard Mr. Harrison's last comment on the matter.
"Damn strange," he said, "damn strange indeed."
END
(c) Ann Douglas 2012
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