Message-ID: <14691eli$9808232201@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: "Bill Morgan" Subject: {Morgan} NEW Turnaround 4/16 M/F Rom. lite sex Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Content-Type: text/plain Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <19980823145343.26608.qmail@hotmail.com> Author's note: If you are looking for wall-to-wall sex, look elsewhere. This book is a romance with a business setting. Beyond that, the sex is comparable to - or less than - what one would find in almost any work of popular fiction. Permission is granted to post on any free site, as long as the copyright statement is included. Please advise the author of any such postings. Comments are welcome and encouraged. Please address me at morg105829@aol.com. I hope you enjoy the book. My plan is to post a chapter each weekday; it will take about three weeks for it all to be up. This is chapter 4 of 16. It is the second mailing of the chapter, so it may turn up twice. The first message seems to be lost in the Great Beyond of the Internet... Six-Month Turnaround Copyright 1992, 1998 by Morgan. All rights reserved. Chapter 4 Cliff drove in to the plant on Saturday morning. He knew it wasn't operating. The current volume of business was not nearly enough to justify Saturday operations. When he arrived, he was greeted by the gate guard and parked his car close to the plant entrance. Since it was a warm day in early April in Milwaukee, Cliff was wearing an old pair of Levi's and a golf shirt. He left his windbreaker in the car and walked into the plant, turning toward the factory floor. When he entered the plant he was surprised to see people working. Bill Stevens was there along with Janet Simmons and Sandy. He joined them. "What brings you all in on Saturday? It's such a beautiful day, I thought I would be the only one here." Turning to Bill, he said, "I guess you and Mrs. Simmons must be working on the cafeteria plans. But Sandy, what brings you in? Don't you have a home?" He noticed that Sandy had beautiful legs which were shown off by the tight- fitting Levi's she was wearing along with a University of Michigan sweat shirt. She gave him a welcoming smile and said, "Force of habit, I guess. It's been a long, cold winter with nothing better to do, so I guess I hung out at the plant." Cliff asked Bill if he would show him around. When they reached the shipping area, he noticed some particularly heavy packing crates that seemed to be ready for overseas shipment. They were an export shipment headed for South America. Bill sounded puzzled when he said, "Cliff, I just make the parts, but this doesn't make a lot of sense to me. Believe it or not, these parts are priced and sold FOB our shipping dock. The shipping people even bitch about the extra packing required for overseas shipment. I understand that we make good money on these orders but we make the buyer handle all the export paperwork. Does that make sense to you?" "No, Bill, it sure doesn't. Have you ever been to South America?" Stevens said he had not. "It's the place old American cars seem to go to die. Particularly in countries like Venezuela, it's like going back in a time warp to the 1960's. You find all these huge American cars with their monstrous V-8 engines. With the country a major producer of crude oil and local fuel prices nationally subsidized, gasoline is still very cheap down there. Those engines were well-built, too. It seems logical we would have a big export business, though. Those engines will run a couple of hundred thousand miles before they need engine work - and that's where a lot of them are when the odometer rolls over the second time. I guess we'll find out more about our export business starting Monday morning. In the meantime, what's all this other stuff?" Cliff was pointing to lines of stacked pallets with product on them. Judging from the weathering and the accumu lated dust, the crates appeared to have been there a long time. Bill frowned and replied, "It's quite a collection, isn't it? It really drives my people crazy. Looking at it, some of it looks like it's been here as long as we've been in the building. Honestly, Cliff, I would be afraid to ship any of this stuff without opening up the crates and inspecting it first. We're not even sure any of these things are usable." "What do the auditors say?" Cliff asked. "They often get pretty tough on valuation of unsalable inventory for the balance sheet." "Frankly, I'm not sure they even notice it. Some of these crates are like the plant walls. They're just here. Every time I raise a question, though, the finance types go through the ceiling - something about an inventory write-down. Frankly, I think we've got a product line that's much too broad. If the 80-20 rule generally holds - 80 percent of the sales come from 20 percent of the products - I'm not sure we don't run at 90-10 or even 95-5!" Cliff did not like much of what he saw during his inspection. When they finished their tour, he noticed it was nearly one o'clock. Sandy was still out front talking with Janet Simmons. Bill and Janet went off together leaving Sandy alone with Cliff. She looked at him thoughtfully and said, "From the look on your face, you didn't enjoy your tour with Bill, did you?" "No, I didn't. We're going to have a lot to discuss starting Monday morning. Are the arrangements all in place?" She nodded. "I even went over to the hotel yesterday afternoon to be sure. So far, so good." "How about having lunch with me? I haven't eaten at all except for coffee. How about you?" "I would love to. There's a place around the corner where a lot of the men eat. With the plant closed today, it should be pretty empty." They went around the corner and entered a small cafe where Sandy was greeted by name. "Does everybody know you around here, Sandy? I don't think I've seen you fail to be greeted by name yet." She just smiled and they ordered hamburgers with everything and Cokes. "I'm surprised you're still here," she said. "I thought this was the big night with Stephanie. You should be down in Chicago panting at her doorstep. And remember, if you're very, very good, she may even allow you to share her bed." Cliff just looked at the girl across the table. Finally, he said, "I apologize for what I said last week." "What did you say last week?" she asked. "I seem to recall saying you were getting broad in the beam. I apologize. You're not. Seeing you in those jeans convinced me." He continued to study the girl. He realized she was wearing no makeup at all. With her hair pulled back in a ponytail and wearing an oversized sweatshirt, she appeared to be about sixteen. He told her so, and she stuck out her tongue at him. "That's the story of my life!" she said sadly. "I always remind guys of their best friend's kid sister. If I tried to act seduc tive, the guy would laugh and think I'm going to trip him or something. Please, Cliff, let me take back everything I said about Stephanie. It's just my jealousy showing, and I have absolutely nothing to be jealous about. She certainly got to you before I did." Cliff just looked at her, realizing what a beautiful girl she was. "Would it have made a difference if you had seen me first?" he asked. Her eyes flashed with green fire. "It certainly... No, it wouldn't," she finished quietly. "Remember me? Everyone's kid sister? No, I'm afraid not. I apologize again. I guess I'm just overmatched and I know it." They finished their meal in silence and then Sandy quickly excused herself. Cliff was thoughtful as he drank his second cup of coffee alone. He went back to the plant, got his car and drove back to his apartment. After he showered and shaved, he put on his best suit. After packing some things in his overnight bag, he left the apartment, and headed south for Chicago. Stephanie's posh apartment building was on the near North Side, overlooking Lake Michigan. After parking in the garage he went up to her apartment, arriving a little before five. Stephanie greeted him at the door, still in the process of dressing for dinner. As he went to kiss her she turned her face away saying he would smear her lipstick. He kissed her on the cheek and lightly caressed her voluptuous body. He noticed that she resisted for an instant but then allowed her body to melt under his hands. It was a reminder that she didn't seem to really enjoy close physical contact. Rather, she seemed to tolerate it, and only under certain conditions, conditions inevitably of her own choosing. Her unthinking reaction was typically one of resistance. Since there was nothing for him to do, he just wandered around the apartment while she finished getting dressed. The dinner was being catered and the caterer was present with his staff. He thought of getting a drink for himself but decided against it. It amused him that to Stephanie more than a single drink was a clear sign of early-stage alcoholism. Since it was early evening, he enjoyed the view of Lake Michigan from the apartment. Although it was still early in the season he could see people working on their boats down in a marina below. Steph rejoined him and began telling him about her activities at the public relations agency. He never ceased to be amazed that she never made a connection between her job at the agency and the fact that Ajax Industries was the agency's principal client. Since her salary and expenses were billed to Ajax, she was really on daddy's payroll, one step removed. She filled him in on the evening's guest list: it was a Who's Who of Chicago's yuppiedom. Cliff did not like the term, yuppie, but had to admit it fit. He *was* a young urban professional whether he liked it or not. As he reflected on the term, he realized it wasn't the acronym itself that bothered him as much as what was so often inferred from it: young people who were acquisitive, self-centered airheads. Unfortunately, he had to admit, there was all too much truth in the characterization and most of the people coming to dinner personified that subspecies. Guests began arriving and Stephanie began running off to greet them and allow herself to be kissed. Cliff allowed himself to be drawn into a conversation on the relative merits of a BMW compared to a Porsche. While listening to the talk, he quickly realized that he didn't give a damn. As a supplier to the U.S. auto industry, he noted that American-built cars simply did not enter into the conversation. It wasn't that they were rejected or even dismissed out of hand. Rather, they were not even considered. Cliff confined his drinking to Perrier with a lime and a glass of wine with dinner. Stephanie didn't like the smell of alcohol on his breath. Idly, he wondered what her reaction would have been had she come into his office Monday night and found him eating pizza and drinking beer. She detested beer - any beer. Moreover, the idea of drinking it from a bottle would have been abhorrent. The dinner was good if one liked French nouvelle cuisine: very light, with different taste combinations. Cliff didn't really care for it, preferring classic haute cuisine. Finally, about eleven the guests started to leave, and the last were gone by midnight. The caterer and his crew had already left leaving Cliff and Stephanie alone in the apartment. When they went back toward Stephanie's bedroom, Cliff reached for the girl, reflecting that this would be two weekends in a row. She turned away from him, saying he would ruin her dress, and asked him to wait a few minutes until she called him. This was an aspect of Stephanie that really annoyed Cliff. She wanted to set the stage. He knew that when she called, she would be arranged in bed with a single soft light which she would extinguish before things got too passionate. She didn't like him to see her in the light, she said. Cliff idly wondered why his feelings towards her seemed to have changed so much in just the last seven days. He heard her summons and went into the bedroom. She had a single bed light turned low. As he expected, she was wearing a very expensive black lace nightgown. Cliff had already loosened his tie; he was soon undressed and in bed beside her. He started running his hand over her body and again sensed rather than felt a momentary resistance on her part. He moved his hand under her night dress and ran it up her soft inner thigh. He had moved close to her, took her into his arms and kissed her on the lips. She moved closer and he slipped off her nightgown. As he ran his hand over her soft full breasts, he could feel her nipples begin to harden. Then he returned his hand to between her full thighs and felt her spread her legs slightly to provide him easier access to her moistness. She caressed him and he could hear her sounds of rising passion. Finally he entered her and heard an intake of breath as she felt him penetrate. He started moving inside her, and in a few minutes he achieved release. He could feel her passion ebb, as she came down from whatever peak she had reached. Soon they were both asleep. Cliff awakened early on Sunday morning. For reasons he did not fully understand, he quietly dressed and left her in bed, still sleeping. He knew that she didn't like him to see her awaken. As he looked at her in the early-morning light, her face appeared pale and puffy. He went down to the garage, retrieved his car and headed north towards Milwaukee. As he drove, he thought about the night and his relationship with the beautiful Stephanie. While he had been making love to her, instead of her large brown eyes, he kept seeing brilliant green ones looking at him reproachfully. It was only a week ago that he thought Stephanie was the epitome of young womanhood. Now he wasn't so sure. Then he focused his thoughts on Sandra Donnell. She is so different from Steph. She seems to be involved in problems of other people, while Steph is wrapped up in herself. That's it! he thought. She is wrapped up with her own interests and is only interested in others to the extent they interact with her. He compared the girls in his mind and began to realize the extent to which he was involved with - in love with? - Sandy. She was trim while Stephanie was voluptuous. Why was it that he felt that Sandy's lovemaking would be more full of giving? He had the feeling that with her it would be joyous, not some reward for good behavior, or some kind of bribe. He continued to think about Sandy until he reached his apartment in Milwaukee. * * * Cliff entered the hotel room at seven-fifteen Monday morning. The meeting was scheduled to begin at eight. Sandy was in the room waiting for him and looked him over carefully when he came in. "You didn't have a good time Saturday night, did you?" "Why do you say that?" he asked, puzzled. "It's obvious looking at your face. You don't glow. You don't have that cat-that- swallowed-the-canary look," she replied calmly. "And do you moonlight as Dear Abby," he asked. She smiled, "No, I flunked out. To write an advice column, the writer has to have her own life squared away. We talked about me on Saturday. My love life is hopeless!" Changing the subject she asked, "Are the arrangements okay?" "They're fine. We'll have coffee here before eight, won't we? This business of the first coffee being served at the ten o'clock break is for the birds. There are normally far too many guys who don't wake up until the third cup." "It was promised for seven forty-five," she said. "How about joining me for coffee downstairs? There's nothing for us to do here for a while." They found a booth in the coffee shop and ordered two coffees. Sandy looked at him and asked, "What's going to happen this morning? Should I expect fireworks and a whole new strategy for our automotive-parts business?" "Far from it. You'll see two reactions: The first is, 'When do we get to the strategy stuff?', and the second is, 'Why didn't we have all this information ahead of the meeting and save time?' But I think some surprises will emerge by the end of the day, anyway." When they returned to the room, it was obvious that some of the senior executives were uncomfortable with juniors present. Cliff was wearing a sport shirt and slacks. Although casual dress had been stressed in the meeting announcement, it was obvious that several senior people didn't believe it. They were wearing their normal business suits and ties. Cliff started promptly at eight noting that John Flood had not yet arrived. The first thing he did was record the vital statistics of the valve and ring business: sales, assets employed, and profits. He then began work on a product-competitor matrix, with products listed down the side and competitors listed across the top. He recorded sales by product type by competitor. Before he had gone very far it was clear that Ajax Industries was the leader in the business: It had the largest share of market of any competitor, and its share was increasing. Murphy Manufacturing ranked a rather weak third. If trends continued, Murphy would be overtaken by the fourth-place company, Precision Parts, within twelve months. He turned to factors affecting growth in the industry. Except for Sandy and a few others, there was a baffled silence. "Come on, folks! Factors affecting growth, up or down? How about number of motor vehicles manufactured in a year? Could that relate to the number of valves and ring sets sold?" John Flood, who had finally arrived, spoke up. "Of course not! It has to do with position with the various companies. You have to get in with them first." "John, we're talking about the *industry*, not about Murphy. We're talking about how much the entire industry will provide. And that includes all suppliers, most particularly including Japanese companies supplying the U.S. plants of Japanese car companies. Flood protested, "That's ridiculous, Cliff! That business isn't available to us. The next thing you know you're going to include captive parts suppliers: the ones owned by the automobile manufacturers." Cliff smiled. "You're right, John. I sure am. We are *all* in the same industry. Keep in mind, nothing is forever. A company may source captive today and go outside tomorrow. Moreover, we need to look at captive business to find out why a company does it that way. How many of you think a company would source everything from captive sources if it could? Raise your hands." A large number of hands went up, not including Bill Stevens', Jane Miller's, or Sandy's. "Jane, why do you disagree? Why wouldn't a company source everything inside if it could?" He noticed that Jane looked in John Flood's direction before answering. Flood glared at the girl, but she spoke up anyway. "There's no percentage in it: In the first place, it's very hard to exactly match the capacity of a component plant to the engine plant it feeds. Second, if production at the engine plant scales down, the company has excess capacity in two places, not just one. Third, the smart companies that do source internally try to do it by scaling component manufacture to a level they're confident they can maintain... say 60 percent of their requirements. Then they hope to run the component plant steadily and make up the balance of their requirements through outside sourcing." "Do you think it works, Jane?" Cliff asked. "Sort of, sir. I get the feeling sometimes they would do better with more outside sourcing. What kind of a price are we going to quote knowing we're just getting surge orders - the stuff their captive plant can't handle? Their engine line slows, and our orders are canceled. Not cut back: canceled." John had been glaring at Jane while she was speaking. "Cliff, I want to take a recess. I have to talk to a few people," he said. "Fine, John. Folks, we're taking a ten-minute break. But, John, I want to talk to you first." Cliff moved over to a vacant corner, and Flood joined him. "John, there are two things: First, when I call a meeting for eight o'clock, I mean eight o'clock. Where were you?" Flood was taken aback. "I... I... I had to check the office first. Surely, you didn't mean that to apply to senior executives! We set our own hours!" "Not any more, Flood. I've noticed your 'own hours' start late and end early. I don't give a shit what hours you work, if the work's done. I don't think yours is. Furthermore, it's obvious you intend to present a departmental party line in this planning session. I saw you glaring at Jane Miller. I won't allow it! Understand? Let me make myself absolutely clear: If, after this talk, you say one derogatory word to Jane Miller it will be considered an act of willful insubordination. That is grounds for immediate termination *for cause!* Clear? And frankly, Flood, I really hope you do! I think Jane Miller would be an outstanding manager, don't you?" Flood had turned pale listening to Cliff's words. "Surely you can't be serious?" he protested. "Of course we discussed this in advance. I want to be sure that there is a coherent story told." "John, I don't give a damn about coherence. That's my job. I just want people to give me their honest answers to whatever question is asked or subject is being discussed. Understood?" Sandy had been standing just out of earshot. She joined him and they went to get coffee which had been brought into the room. Returning to where Cliff had been standing with Flood he asked, "Sandy, do me a favor? At lunch, go in to the dining room with Jane Miller. I'll lag a bit. I would like to sit next to her, so could you just get up and move when I come in?" She pretended to frown. "Is that a not-very-subtle hint that I shouldn't eat lunch? 'Broad in the beam,' I think you said?" He grinned at her. "I thought we settled that on Saturday? Seriously, though, it is sort of a dumb idea. I want to sit next to her without it being too obvious. Why don't you arrange to sit next to Bill Stevens? Ask him to save you a place. Then just hang over the place next to Jane's so no one else will take it. When I come in, you join Bill. Better?" "Much better!" she replied with a grin. "This way, I get to eat, too. May I say something that's probably as out of line as what I usually say? I get the strong impression that Mr. Flood is not long for our little world. Am I wrong?" "Would you - or the other people who make things work around here - care if he disappeared? Would the company be hurt?" "Cliff, if I remember correctly, in the "Mikado" the Lord High Executioner 'had a little list; t'will none of them be missed'. I think it's safe to say that Flood is on the little list. Personally, I think he's a disgusting pig!" Cliff was surprised at the vehemence with which she made the last statement, but did not comment. Instead, he went back to the easel pads to resume the session. "When we took our break, we were talking about key factors affecting industry growth. What are some of them? Anyone?" Jane Miller spoke up again. "The number of motor vehicles built each year?" "That's good," Cliff responded. "What about the number, Jane? Is it growing, shrinking, or staying about the same?" "I think it's cyclical, but fairly level here in the States." At this point John Flood jumped in, again. "That's bullshit! It's growing. The market for Murphy Manufacturing is unlimited for anyone who'll get off her dead ass. Jane, take that back!" "John," Cliff said quietly, "Jane's absolutely right. Unless you have seen data different from what comes out of the Department of Commerce, production of motor vehicles is cyclical with the economy but fairly flat." He looked out at the group and said, "Okay, other factors? Folks, this is a game any number can play. I hope Jane isn't the only one in this room who's ever given any thought to our market potential. Sandy?" Sandy had her hand up: "Scrap rate: the number of cars broken up each year; the average age of the automotive fleet. Those are two more factors affecting replacement parts sales." John Flood was enraged. His rage was overcoming his natural caution and was coupled with a gross underestimation of Cliff who was younger than he was by fifteen years. "This is the most ridiculous waste of time I've ever sat through in my entire life! I thought we were here to discuss strategy. All I hear are a couple of dumb broads who shouldn't be here in the first place. That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. There's only one thing that counts: new production. Period!" "John, this is getting boring. You're wrong... again! And that's twice you have abused Miss Miller, and now you have added Miss Donnell. I ignored it the first time, but I can't ignore it any longer. An apology is indicated. Now!" "I'm damned if I'll apologize to a couple of dumb broads! This is a disgrace!" Flood said in an outburst of uncontrolled rage. "People, I suggest we break for lunch now." Focusing on Flood he added, "It's clear that your usefulness to the session is over. I will see you back in my office at two-thirty. Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sorry. Lunch will be served in the room next door in a few minutes. We'll reconvene at eight o'clock tomorrow. I'm sorry for the delay." Cliff excused himself, went down the hall and came back to the room a few minutes later. As he expected, Sandy was talking to Jane Miller. When he came in, Sandy waited until he was almost upon them before she left to take a seat next to Bill Stevens. "Jane, we've never formally met, but I've heard a lot about you. May I join you?" Cliff asked. "Of course, Mr. Fitzpatrick. Please do. Sandy has told me so much about you." Cliff shook hands with the other people sitting around the table. The meal was a cold buffet served with soup. He had found that it was the ideal meal for these occasions, although the hotel banquet departments always tried to load up the menu with more elaborate dishes. He addressed himself to Jane speaking in low tones. "Why is it I get the feeling that you're not John Flood's favorite salesperson? I could be wrong, of course, but I *do* get that impression." Jane Miller was a very attractive dark-haired girl who appeared to be about the same age as Sandy. He noticed she was very well built. "I'm not John's favorite person," she said quietly. "Least favorite, perhaps, but certainly not most favorite." "Why are you still here then? Jane, on behalf of Murphy Manufacturing, I would like to offer you an apology. Flood's behavior was uncalled for and unnecessary. There's no need for you ever to take such abuse. And you shouldn't. Why do you?" "Because of Sandy. She said it would get better. She was one of my best friends in graduate school and...." Jane's eyes suddenly flared and she said, "Forget I said that Mr. Fitzpatrick. Please?" Cliff looked the girl right in the eyes. She could feel his blue eyes boring right through her lovely brown ones. "Jane," he said softly, "You were talking about graduate school. What graduate school?" The poor girl looked flustered - and, Cliff noted, very pretty. "Please, Mr. Fitzpatrick, I can't. I promised." "Jane, it's Cliff, not Mr. Fitzpatrick. Young lady, we are very much of the same generation. And John Flood is really much too crude. I don't yell and scream, but I was thinking how beautiful that picture of you wearing the wet T-shirt would look in our company magazine. You know - as part of a story on the dedication of our hardworking sales force?" Jane turned bright red. "You wouldn't! Cliff, it shows everything. My God, I would be mortified. You couldn't be so cruel!?... Could you?" "Jane Miller, I have given you a perfect out for Sandy. You were blackmailed with that picture. You do have a beautiful figure, by the way! No wonder the buyer wanted to see you with a wet T-shirt! And you got the order." "Okay, I know when I'm licked. What do you want to know?" "Tell me about Sandy." "Well, she and I roomed together at Michigan. I was majoring in marketing, and she had a combined finance and manufacturing major. Cliff, why in hell is the girl who graduated number one from University of Michigan Graduate School of Business working as a secretary - in a company she owns, for chrissakes!" Cliff was dumbstruck at the revelation but his consulting experience stood him in good stead: He was able to keep his face impassive as he absorbed the stunning news. Jane continued. "Anyway, she said there would be opportunities here at Murphy. She said there was a lot of dead wood. All we needed was a guy to take charge - that's you - to get the place going again. It's a funny deal that I think relates to her age. I think she officially takes control of all of the stock on October 1, or something like that." Cliff appeared to ignore the revelation about Sandy's ownership of the company. Instead he asked, "Jane, what happened between you and Flood? What did he think of the wet T-shirt idea? Incidentally, I think it's great, even though I wouldn't ever think to ask, and I would expect to get my head handed to me if I ever did. Thanks for the dedication. But what did Flood say?" She looked at him speculatively, as if considering something. It was obvious that she gave herself an affirmative answer to her mental question, and then answered Cliff's. "He was appalled," she said in a very flat voice. "*Flood* was appalled? I find that hard to believe," he said. She gave him a wry smile. "Not for the reasons you're thinking. He said I should have taken him to a motel somewhere and laid him. The T-shirt was bad for the company image, but working between the sheets is not only fine, he said he expects it. I guess one of the reasons I never got a raise is because he keeps wanting to try out the mer chandise, and I keep telling him where to head in. He's tried to fire me a couple of times, but Sandy has always managed to get him overruled by somebody." She grin ned, "Anyway, I'm still here... and I like what you were doing this morning. It's the first time since business school that I have ever actually seen these concepts applied. Thanks, Cliff." "Jane, I have a favor to ask: Will you please come over to the office and be there ahead of my two-thirty meeting with Flood? I have an idea I want to work out with Sandy. Are you willing?" She gave him a very warm smile. "Of course! But will you do me a favor, though, Cliff? Will you promise to put some ointment on my body after Sandy skins me alive? I can handle Flood, but I can't handle her. Promise?" He looked up at the ceiling, and then back at her eyes. He looked very serious as he said, "Well, okay. I guess I can do that, but on one condition." The serious look gave way to a quick grin. "I get to watch!" "Clifford Fitzpatrick, you are *terrible*! But if you insist, it's a deal!" She grinned, stuck out her hand, and he gripped it. Sandy approached their table. Most of the people had finished and had left to return to the office after the truncated meeting. Jane looked very sheepish as Sandy sat down on a now-vacant chair. Sandy looked at Jane closely and demanded, "Jane Miller, what have you been telling Cliff?" "All of it," the dark-haired girl responded in a very low voice. "But I had to, Sandy. He blackmailed me!" "He did what!?" Sandy exclaimed. "How?" "He threatened to publish that picture of me wearing the wet T-shirt! And it shows everything!" she wailed. Cliff found a very interesting pattern in the wallpaper to study. Sandy glared at him and then back at her ex-roommate. "What picture? There *is* no picture!" The two girls turned on Cliff who was still studying the wallpaper design. In unison they said, "Clifford Fitzpatrick!" Cliff grinned at the two girls. "It would have been a great picture for the company magazine, don't you think? Our dedicated sales force and all that stuff? Jane certainly thought so." He turned and glared at Sandy, "And as for you Miss Donnell, no wonder the Board so quickly approved you as treasurer. Two-thirds of the money is yours! What am I doing here, anyway? Coaching you to take over my job?" Cliff had gotten over the initial shock and was waiting for an explanation. He was glad he had heard it first from Jane: It had given him the opportunity to get used to the idea before confronting Sandy. "No, Cliff," she answered quietly. "I never lied to you, but I certainly didn't tell you the whole truth. I'm sorry if you feel deceived. I was instrumental in getting you in at Murphy. I was certain you were the guy I was looking for. Over the last week, I became 99 percent certain, and after this morning I'm 110 percent sure. Cliff, I have a great favor to ask: Please, can I continue to work as your assistant? I had to lean on Stiles to get you in. He controls the stock as trustee until October 1, my birthday. Then I turn twenty-six and take over the stock. You see, a little more than 65 percent of the stock is owned by the Murphy family. In spite of the more usual situation among the Irish - large families, I mean - the Murphy family is now just me. "The company was founded by my grandfather. When he died, his stock was divided between my mother and Uncle John. Then my parents were killed in an automobile accident when I was twelve. I guess the arrangement with me is similar to the one my parents had. If grandfather had died earlier, they would have been unable to vote the stock until they reached the age of twenty-six. Anyway, Uncle John, who was a bachelor, adopted me as his daughter but I didn't change my name. When he died, I was left all of his stock, too. "Cliff, only a handful of people in the company know who I am, and I would like to keep it that way. I would understand if you just told me to go to hell, jump in Lake Michigan, or do something even more extreme, but I hope you won't. In return, I'll do anything you ask, including telling you anything else about me and my background. No more secrets. Fair?" He studied the young girl and realized she had beautiful emerald-green eyes. They were looking into his intently. When he suddenly smiled at her, he saw her relax. He put out his hand and she took it in her firm grip. "It's a deal, Sandra Donnell. I always like to be in a position where I can keep a close eye on the controlling shareholder. "Now, Sandy, your 'little list' is about to get shorter. We're never going to get through even the first planning session at this rate. Flood will be numbered among the missing this afternoon. Unlike Purcell, he's not nearly close to retirement. I'm firing him for cause: sex discrimination and sexual abuse. Did you know about it?" Sandy shook her head, looking puzzled. They both looked at Jane who looked down at the table. Sandy said, "Jane Miller! What haven't you told me!? I am about to skin you alive!" Jane looked at Cliff. "I told you she would skin me alive. Don't forget your promise!" She then quickly told Sandy what she had earlier told Cliff. "That snake!" Sandy exclaimed. "Now I see... I think... Cliff, I'm almost certain he's been bedding his secretary! And I'll lay money he has made it a condition of her employment." She looked up at Cliff and Jane, "Now, what's this promise you extorted from Cliff, Jane Miller? Out with it!" Jane looked and sounded very innocent as she spoke. "It's very simple: I asked Cliff to put some ointment on my body after you skinned me alive. I told him you would. He promised, too!" she said, making a face, "But only on the condition he could watch you do it. I think you're both sadists! That's what I think." "No, Jane. I'm sorry. You're a masochist. You would enjoy it too much, so I won't." Cliff was delighted to see the extent to which the threesome had now relaxed. He continued, "Sandy, here's what I want to do. Can you call Kevin, fast? There is a squawk-box-type intercom on the desk. It looks like an antique. Does it work, and is there one on your desk? I would like you to have Kevin wire it to the next office... No! To Purcell's old office that you're using, Sandy. I want the two of you there. I'll leave the intercom on. If it works like all the ones I've seen, you'll be able to hear every word. Okay? Oh, one more thing: I think I know what I'll see, but I want to look at Jane's personnel file and the relevant sales performance reports. And I need the material fast!" * * * At two-thirty, John Flood entered Cliff's office. All the arrangements had been made: It turned out that the intercom was in working order, and changing the location only took a few minutes. Although Flood had cooled down from the morning, he was still in a belligerent mood. "What's this all about, Fitzpatrick? Why did you break off the meeting this morning?" Cliff ignored Flood's tone. "I called a halt because of two things: First, your attitude was poisoning the session. Second, your ignorance of our market is appalling. I didn't want you to continue to make a fool of yourself. There's more, but it came up later. Why hasn't Jane Miller received a raise?" "It's pretty obvious, isn't it? She doesn't perform!" "Perform what?" Cliff asked. If Flood had known him better, he would have been concerned at Cliff's mild tone of voice. "According to the sales results of the last two years, she's the top-performing salesperson in the company! Just what is it she doesn't perform?" "Grow up, Cliff! You know damn well what she doesn't perform. Can you believe a girl having the nerve to show off her boobs - great ones, too - to a purchasing agent? But she won't put out for me, so she doesn't get a raise." "I see," Cliff said in the same quiet tone. "What about the men on your staff? Do you go both ways?" "What in hell are you saying? Are you saying I'm gay!" "No, John. I'm saying you're fired! Now! It is a termination for cause: sexual harassment and sex discrimination. If word of this got out, we would be through. However, before you get any more bright ideas, it can easily be shown that you were terminated in a matter of hours after your activities came to the attention of top management. Flood, you are the most despicable man it has ever been my misfortune to be associated with. Shall I ask your secretary, Betty Ames, to join us? I understand you made her sexual favors a condition of her continued employment. She is a widow trying to raise two small children. John, I think that could get you a felony prosecution. Should I ask our lawyers? You will be paid through today. Miss Donnell has your final check ready. I suggest you take it and get out." Flood's face had been running a gamut of emotions starting at belligerence then changing to disbelief, to rage, to shock and finally to utter defeat. He turned and left the office. "You can come in, now." Cliff said. Jane came right in followed a few minutes later by Sandy. Sandy had a small deck of cards in her hand. "What are those?" he asked. She smiled brightly and said, "Someone has to think of the company. I have his company charge cards, the keys to his company car, his ID... all the stuff on the termination checkout sheet that us overworked secretaries have to take care of for our irresponsible bosses." "Thanks, Sandy... again. Now could you ask Betty Ames to join us? Jane, I want Sandy here, but under the circumstances I think we should minimize the audience." Betty Ames came into the office and looked bewildered when Cliff asked her to sit down. Sandy was trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, sitting in a corner behind Mrs. Ames and well behind her sight line. Cliff introduced himself and then began, "Mrs. Ames, as you may know, John Flood has just been fired from the company for cause. One of the reasons is his sexual abuse of you." Cliff was speaking as gently as he could to try to lessen the woman's shock. He was surprised to see her face light up. He realized she was a lovely woman. "He's... He's gone?" "Yes, ma'am. He's gone... for good." Suddenly the woman folded up in her chair and began weeping. Sandy was expecting it and jumped out of her chair to comfort the woman. When she reached her, she and Cliff were surprised to see the woman was weeping for joy! "Oh, thank you, Mr. Fitz patrick! I'll clean out my desk and..." "You'll what!" Sandy and Cliff exclaimed in unison. Betty Ames appeared surprised. "Well, I would like to take my things. Can't I?" "But why do you want to leave?" Cliff asked. "There will be a reduction in the number of secretaries, but Sandy tells me you're one of our very best. I thought you needed the job?" She sat up straight in her chair. "You can't mean you want me to stay? After the things I did with Mr. Flood?" Sandy spoke. "Betty, I've seen you come out of Flood's office looking like you wanted to throw up. You did it because he made you, didn't you? If you didn't, you would have been fired? There would be no raises, and no employment recommendation? And you have two children to think of." Betty Ames had been nodding at each of Sandy's questions. Sandy concluded, "Flood's a snake. Betty, Mr. Fitzpatrick wanted me to ask you for a favor. He doesn't want to ask you himself for fear you might take it the wrong way, but Betty, he would like to make a payment to you equal to one year's salary to try to make up for what you have suffered. You have a real cause of action to sue the company if you chose. He hopes you won't, even though you have every right to. Would you accept his offer? Please?" "You want me to stay? And take money? I couldn't. It's not right!" "Betty," Cliff said, "I know it's not right. It's not adequate, but it's an effort on our part. Please say yes. I know you can use it, can't you? Sandy, could you please cut a check? Call it a settlement for damages suffered. That way it's not income and not taxable to you. Mrs. Ames, isn't this the week of spring vacation?" Betty nodded indicating that it was. "Great! Why don't you take the rest of the week off and celebrate with your chil dren? Please?" The woman smiled and thanked them. Sandy got her the check, and she left for home still shaking her head in amazement. Then Jane rejoined them and Cliff turned to Sandy. "Thanks again. That was a very kind and generous thing you did for her. My God! That poor woman has been tortured all this time!" "And thank you, Cliff, for picking up on the idea and figuring out how she could get it all tax free. Now, what are you going to do for a vice president – marketing?" "Who do you think should get it? Jane?" Cliff asked. "I think the best guy we've got is Steve Muller, but he isn't even here. Flood has him on some cockamamie assignment in the Stores Division. Personally, I think he wanted him out of town. I don't think John and Steve agreed on the time of day, let alone anything else!" Jane answered. "Miss Donnell, how does the cash management project look? Do you think we can spare some back pay for your friend? The way I see it, her salary should be doubled, and we owe her a bonus of at least $25,000. That is roughly what I estimate she was cheated out of by our late unlamented friend. Can we afford it?" Sandy smiled and nodded. "Wait a minute, Cliff. That's $25,000 less $17.95 she still owes me on our last phone bill at school. And to show you I'm a real sport, I'll even waive the interest." Jane was grinning at the two of them. Suddenly her jaw dropped. "Wait a minute. You are kidding aren't you? You can't be serious?" Cliff looked at Sandy maintaining a very serious expression. "Miss Treasurer, I never joke about money, do you?" Sandy responded with an equally serious look, "Mr. President, have you ever known a treasurer to joke about *anything*, least of all about money? Of course I'm serious." They looked at Jane and said in unison, "We're serious!" after which they all laughed. "On the other hand," Cliff said, "Jane is now being paid an awful lot just to be a salesman. I'll talk to Steve about making her Key Accounts Manager." "There's just one more thing, Jane," Sandy added. "We're going out tonight to celebrate your raise, bonus, and promotion. And you're buying." Sandy went off to try to locate Steve Muller. When she finally tracked him down in Spokane, Cliff spoke to him for a few moments. "Steve, I'm sorry we haven't met, but I suppose you have heard of me. Your boss, John Flood, is now history. Would you accept the position of vice president – marketing at Murphy?" There was silence on the phone for a few moments. Then Muller spoke. "Mr. Fitzpatrick, it's a good thing Sandy Donnell tracked me down. If you had called, I wouldn't have known your voice and would have been sure it was a joke. Yes, sir! I accept with pleasure. How soon do you need me in Milwaukee?" "That's the bad news, Steve. Tomorrow morning at eight o'clock we reconvene our planning session. We need you as soon as you can get here. I'm looking forward to seeing you when you get in." He told him the name of the hotel, and Muller went off to see about planes. Cliff and Sandy spent the rest of the afternoon on the cash management project. They had identified over $25 million in balance reductions in major accounts alone. There were still some unexamined major accounts - activity analyses hadn't yet been received - and a host of nominally smaller accounts which Cliff expected to yield proportionately much larger savings. That evening Cliff took the two girls out to dinner to celebrate. They were about to order dinner in a German restaurant that Jane recommended when a tall good-looking young man came up to the table, kissed Jane and sat down. He stuck out his hand to Cliff, "I'm Steve Muller. I guess you must be Cliff Fitzpatrick. Is this fast enough?" Cliff grinned. "Steve, you're a man after my own heart. I was hoping you would be here by the end of lunch tomorrow! How did you find us?" "A formerly underpaid salesperson, now a lofty manager who should remain nameless, left a message on the machine at my apartment. Not only did she say where you would be, but she also indicated she was very warm for my body. What else could I do?" Cliff and Sandy laughed while Jane blushed. Then she hit Steve hard on the arm. "Big mouth! That was for you, turkey, not for rebroadcast." They spent the rest of the evening reviewing the events of the day with Steve and briefing him on the planning session. As it was getting time to leave, Steve looked at Cliff and said, "Cliff, I'm reasonably sure John gave me the job in Stores to get me out of town. However, I'm one of those dumb guys who'll create a job even where there isn't one. Tell me, isn't there some basic strategy of cutting back geographically?" "Sure," Cliff replied. "It's called market rationalization. But why do you ask?" "Because that's the strategy for our western stores, anyway. Cliff, it's the stupidest thing I've ever seen. Here we sit 2,000 miles to the east trying to determine stock for those stores. No way! Then we're much too thin on the ground. It's impossible for us to have the kind of store density we need to advertise effectively in any of the big western markets. If we run an ad, we're lucky if 10 percent of the people seeing or hearing it are within reach of one of our stores. The reason I asked is I talked to some people out there. There's a good-sized western chain of auto parts stores that wants to grow. They would like to buy all our western units for cash. Might we be interested?" "Steve, we haven't looked at the Stores Division yet. I'm going to try to start next week. How anxious are they, and have they made a firm offer?" "They're anxious, Boss, but there's no firm offer. They would like to look around, though." "Sandy, you had better listen to this. I'm not ready to sell our western stores, but I would certainly listen to an offer, particularly if it's all cash. I would like Steve to call the people tomorrow and give them permission to look around at our units and look at our numbers. What do you think?" "Let's do it, Cliff." She grinned at him, and added, "The way you have been giving away money today, we better do something to get some coming in!" Surprisingly, the restaurant had a small combo playing on a Monday night. When Jane got up and motioned for Steve to dance with her, Sandy looked up in mild surprise. "Jane, you're going to dance? I didn't think you liked to." The dark-haired girl grinned. "You had it right this afternoon: I'm a masochist. With Steve stepping on my feet, it feels so good when we stop." They went off together to the small dance floor leaving Cliff and Sandy alone. They sat together in companionable silence for a few minutes before Cliff spoke. "What a day! I can live nicely without too many more like this one, though. I get rid of a senior vice president, settle a potentially very nasty discrimination action and find out my secretary is my boss!" He looked at her and smiled. "I know you told me you're every guy's best friend's kid sister, but would you like to dance, sis?" Sandy smiled and got up. The combo was playing dance music from the '40's and '50's. When they got to the dance floor, he took her in his arms. He was surprised at the way she moved on the floor. Cliff never thought of himself as a good dancer - barely adequate would have been his optimistic assessment. Nevertheless, he found that he and Sandy were moving around the floor as if they were on a cloud. She seemed absolutely weightless. He contrasted this feeling with his experience with Stephanie and didn't understand what was happening. Steph was an extraordinarily good dancer - at least that was what everyone said. Yet dancing with her was like moving a truck. He had always blamed his own incompetence. Sandy felt as if she were floating, too. She didn't know what to do except she hoped the music would never end. Her plans had gone down the drain even though she admitted to herself they weren't very good plans. She had had some vague idea in the back of her mind about maintaining her ownership interest as a secret until at least October 1. It wasn't to be, and she had known it, deep down. There were too many people who knew the truth, and the truth would have come out sooner or later. She was honest enough to admit that sooner was better. She had noticed Cliff's quick reaction - she had hired him to train her - and realized the later he found out the truth, the angrier he would have been. Since it came out only a week after starting work, it hadn't done too much damage. Then her thoughts turned to their dancing. She had always thought of herself as clumsy and gawky on the dance floor. She had been a girl who reached her full height when she was young, and still thought of herself as towering over the boys. She suddenly realized that, compared to Cliff, she was almost short. She found it so easy to move with him on the floor. Finally, the music stopped as the musicians took a break. They found themselves just standing alone on the floor together. "It stopped," Cliff said softly in her ear. She gave a little start and looked up at him. "Thank you," she said, "That was fun. You're a very good dancer. Usually, I feel as clumsy as a trained bear trying to walk on its hind legs." They were walking back to the table as she said it. Cliff stopped abruptly and looked at her, "Stop teasing, Sandy. If you're a trained bear, a dolphin would look clumsy by comparison! You were a feather!" He noticed the real surprise in her eyes but couldn't understand it. They returned to the table and quiet applause from Jane and Steve. "Have you two been rehearsing?" Jane asked. "Trying to generate a little money for Murphy by moonlighting as a dance team?" Both Cliff and Sandy reddened at her comments. Later the four left the restaurant, with Steve and Jane going off together. Sandy blushed and said, "Cliff, could you do me a favor? Would you mind driving me back to my apartment? Jane drove me over, but I guess she forgot. I'm afraid her mind is on other things right now." They went to his car and she gave him directions to her apartment. He walked her to the door and unlocked it for her. Turning towards him, she raised her head and pulled his face down to hers. She gave him a soft kiss, murmured a hurried "Good night," and ducked into the apartment. Cliff stood there still feeling the power of her kiss. He had never experienced anything quite like it, and he liked to think of himself as experienced with women. He thought to himself that if all kid sisters kissed like that, he'd been wasting his time in all the wrong places. Meanwhile, Sandy stood with her back to the door. She had kissed him on sudden impulse, intending it to be light and friendly, and in one sense it was. But it was so much more. Sandy realized she was leaning against her front door because she did not trust her legs to support her weight. She could still hear the bells and feel the electricity that had jolted her during that one quick kiss. She went to her bedroom and got ready for bed. -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----