tagFetishThe 5 V's

The 5 V's

byeightballbum©

The following story is intended for mature readers only. It is a complete work of fiction and any similarities between actual people and places or events was not intended. The Five "Vs" is the prequel to "Double Elimination" and sets up the back ground of Ron Webber. I wrote this story in 2002, then followed it up with "Double Elimination" about a year later. "Sweet Smell of Jasmine" and "Click on Chat" followed in the fall of 2005 and the winter of 2006. SSJ and COC are not continuations of Ron Webber, but stand alone. However: My next story is a continuation of the Ron Webber series due to numerous requests. Stay tuned and check back for this installment. 8BB

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As long as I can remember I have enjoyed watching women smoke. During my high school days I can recall certain girls who hung out together, and smoked cigarettes. One of these girls I had such a crush on. She seemed so "alluring" to me during those times that I would catch sight of her smoking with her friends. I even recall the night I was bold enough to ask her to dance with me at a high school function. We didn't progress beyond that one dance, but it still finds its way into my memory from time to time. Funny how things like that have such a lasting effect. This story is about the effect of my fetish and the road that it took me down. If you have a smoking fetish, a taste for bondage or kinky sex, you will enjoy my story.

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CHAPTER ONE

I finished college rather late in life. I did a stint in the Navy after high school, and beyond that I took a year off to travel and enjoy the freedom from the armed forces. Once I got started at Ohio State, I was a good student in the College of Business Administration. It was there that I met Kate in one of my classes. We dated steadily for three years. She was blonde, 5'3", nice shape, accounting major and the sweetest southern accent.

She was born and raised around Atlanta Georgia, her parents owned a furniture store where she worked part time during summer vacations. She had planned to return to Atlanta after getting her degree. Once we started getting serious, that plan fell by the wayside. I finished college a year before Kate, and while she and her friends took part time office work, I would answer the phone when they were out on an assignment. Kate finished her degree, took an internship with an accounting firm, and within a year took and passed the CPA exam for the State of Ohio.

We got married after living together for a year and two months. I continued to support Kate and her girl friends by answering the phone, and I even took part time job assignments when there was nobody else to go. Gradually the pool of girls shrank due to graduations, employments, marriages and just about every other excuse you can dream up. We ran an ad in the local paper, found some qualified girls for office work, and started a temp help agency. Kate got an offer from a firm down in Cincinnati that provided us with benefits and a stable salary, so we packed up and moved. By this time I was so good at answering the phone and sending girls out to work, I was looking at two choices. Pimping being illegal in all 50 states, and with prison being a bad career move, I opened a temporary help agency.

Kate would help out with the books; I did the interviews and hired the girls (or guys). After a year of work, I had three girls helping me in the office and 50 others on the computer files willing to take on part time job assignments. We still needed Kate's salary to live, but we managed to buy a small house and even talked of having a child. Kate went off the pill, the agency grew, and we anticipated starting a family. Kate was looking forward to a time when she would only work for the agency doing accounting and tax forms during the season. After a year of trying, during a routine physical, we learned that Kate would never have children. Our marriage was never the same after that.

The agency did grow. We branched out into employment. Folks would register with us to find work, and people would call us to find employees. We charged them both ways. If we sent out a temporary helper, and that person stayed, we made money. The process was rather simple. Our clients would come in and pay us $20. to register with our temp agency. As jobs came in through our advertising, we would send out one or more qualified applicants. If the employer liked our client, they would then pay us a $100. fee. Skilled applicants were charged a higher fee, and some of our better employers paid us $200-$300 each time we placed for them. My staff was referred to, as "Placement Specialists" Their job was to maintain a neat appearance, and do an interview with the people as they came in the door. Our specialists would get all the basic information down on a computerized form in plain language. Their skills and preferences were then coded into boxes along the bottom of the form. These coded boxes were what actually matched the client to the employer.

The specialists were instructed to get as much information about the client and complete boxes without asking obvious question that employers weren't allowed to ask. For example: Our PS would ask "If a job comes up suddenly, which often happens, would you have difficulty in obtaining a baby sitter?" The answer might be something like this "Well my mother baby sits my two kids and since she doesn't work, I suppose she could help out, my ex-husband only wants the kids on weekends once a month" Box #15 would then code 2DEXHNC meaning "2 kids divorced, ex-husband not cooperative" Box #20 was my idea. Our PS would ask "We occasionally provide staff for evening functions where guests would be smoking cigarettes/pipes/cigars, would you be comfortable around smoking?" An answer of "yeah, sure, I smoke myself so I wouldn't be bothered in the least" would get a code of YS. What a coincidence that all my Position Specialist were 30 to 40 years old, neat, attractive, female and smokers.

CHAPTER TWO

Our tenth year in business was perhaps our best ever. I got a call from Stan Bender at Worldwide Promotions. Stan was booking a rock concert in Cincinnati and needed 200 ushers/security people for seating ticket holders and collecting tickets at the door. Large males for stage guarding, medium sized males for ticket takers, women of all shapes and sizes for ushers and to make sure ticket holders found their correct seats. In the temp business, 200 people for a one day events was an army, and at the time I doubted all the temp agencies in Ohio could fill that request. I bid the job double what we usually charge by the hour, figuring I would have to out source from other agencies. I added $15. for each person to cover the cost for a yellow nylon jacket with "EVENT STAFF" on the back, and the front had our logo and "WEBBER STAFFING SERVICES- CINCINNATI". Stan accepted by bid, and I set to work finding 200 people.

The women weren't much of a problem, but the men, now there's a trick. Occasionally, during early summer, I would get hooked up in a golfing foursome, which included the coach of the local college football team. Often enough anyway that he and I knew one another by name. My one phone call to Mike secured 50 very large male employees. I ordered the jackets and my staff of PS's set to work getting the boys into the data base, with our usual fee waived. The jackets arrived, the employees were all assigned to locations in the auditorium, and the day of the concert was upon us. Kate, myself, and all of our Position Specialists worked as Supervisors. We had 10 Registered Nurses equipped to handle any health problems. We covered all the bases and the concert came off without a hitch. The lead singer actually thanked us onstage during their last set. On the drive home, Kate and I figured the business made as much as 10k for that one evening. ($11,400. actually). We slept in the next day, which was Sunday. Monday morning rolled around, and I was late in arriving to the office.

On days such as this, Diane Jordan my leading PS would open the office. She was an attractive blonde, divorced with one kid, and my "smoking buddy". Often times we would take our breaks together, occasionally lunches, and a good friend. She knew the workings of our business, trained the new PS's and seemed to be able to read me like a book. She sensed my moods as well as Kate did and had told me of her past unfortunate history with the men in her life. The term "Gal Pal" fit Diane like a glove.

Typical Monday I thought as I pulled my Jeep Grand Cherokee into the parking lot. The Real-estate Company across the shared parking lot must be having all their agents in at one time for breakfast. It pissed me off whenever they did that because I had to park in the next county. I rounded the corner of our building and stopped in my tracks. There was a line of people coming out of my offices. There were at least 50 people, all shapes and sizes standing in line. My office seats were full with more standing around. Two more young ladies got in line behind me before I could finish counting!!!!! I worked my way through the crowd up to Diane's desk.

"What's going on?"

Diane flashed a look in my general direction.

"Been like this since I unlocked the doors, Suzy, Jill, Jeanie and I have already input 40 apps this morning. I called in Becky and I will need the terminal in your office for her. Don't under any circumstances take the phones off "hold" because you will never manage to make an outgoing call".

I took off my coat, and worked my way to my corner office. There were 10 more people in line behind the two girls I had left behind and that was all I could see from my window. God Bless Rock Concerts! We stayed like that all morning long. I sent one applicant out for Pizza at noon, and by 2 o'clock I was handing out printed blank forms to people in line that they could fill out and return by mail with a check. I told them we would do a "phone interview" later in the week. We stayed open past 6pm, which was our usual closing time. Diane put the lock on the door at 6:30 after letting out Becky, Suzy, Jill and Jeanie out. She came into my office and collapsed into a chair.

"Boss, I haven't had a cigarette all day, and I am about to break Kate's favorite rule about smoking in the offices."

I opened my desk drawer and took out my Marlboro Light 100's and lit one for her, and then one for myself. Diane took a slow, deep inhale, paused and exhaled a stream.

"Good god, what a day" she said taking her second cheek hallowing drag.

"Thanks for opening up for me this morning. Did we even get to make an out going phone call?"

" I didn't, and Bob and I were to have lunch today. Do you suppose he's pissed off about my not getting in touch with him about our date?"

Bob was Diane's man-da-jour this month. He had been divorced for 6 years and wasn't even close to having a committed relationship in my opinion. I had shared that in the past with Diane, however he was convenient if nothing else and Diane feared sitting at home alone all the time. We sat and smoked a few more cigs, took a quick look at the computer, which showed total input apps for the day at over a thousand. Few would probably make it beyond the app fee as far as the business was concerned, but our pool of available people had quad dueled today. And that was certainly good for business.

Tuesday was similar to Monday, but by Thursday things had pretty much settled down to busy but manageable. Friday was spent mostly doing the mail in applications, and Saturday Jill and Becky worked at the office with the blinds shut inputting the last of the mail in applications and doing phone interviews. Monday morning around 10, Diane stuck her head in the door.

"Stan Bender on line one".

"Stan how goes business?" I asked.

"Business is fantastic, first let me say thanks for help. The chamber of commerce members that showed up were very impressed. Also, the city gave me the go-ahead to book in a dozen more concerts for the year. They want your firm to provide just like this last time.... Are you interested?"

I sat back in my leather chair looking at the wall. It must have seemed to Stan that I had left the line for a bathroom break.

"Yeah, I think we could handle twelve. Are there any dates yet?"

I was stalling for time. A flood of thoughts streaked through my mind among them worry, which passed, then "oh my god what kind of profit will I get from this!!!!!

" The people at the permits division of the city faxed a list over to me of non-conflicting dates of scheduled events in town, the folks at the coliseum gave me a list of open dates when they can rent to me. I did an overlay of the dates, and plugged in the available talent I wanted to bring into Cincinnati. The dates and players are still very, very, preliminary, but I will fax what I have over to you. What about price?" Thoughts were still buzzing around my mind like two flies on a cow turd.

"My office was a disaster last week, but I can do some quick figuring. The price will be the same for 200, however, if you need more help than just the 200, we can do a "per body price" which would leave us open-ended".

"Excellent, Ron I can't thank you enough. Before I can sign the contracts and permits, I need a contract for services from your firm. Who does your legal?"

"Jack Richfield at Richardson and Richfield and I will give him a call this morning with the numbers."

"Ron, I can't thank you enough! I will put the dates into the fax machine but I would caution you not to share this information with anyone."

After I hung up the phone I made a beeline to Diane's desk, which had our fax machine on a file cabinet behind it.

"Break time," I said to Diane, motioning her to follow me out the door.

"Jill, there is a fax coming, would you be so kind as to just ignore it 'til I get back. It's personal."

Jill just nodded her head in my direction and Diane and I left the building to our usual smoking section around the corner. I lit Diane's cigarette, then mine; we took long drags, slow exhales and paused.

"So what's the personal fax you got coming, secret girlfriend?" Diane was obviously in rare form today.

"No actually better than sex, money and lots of it." I told Diane of the new developments. She stood there with her mouth half open. She took a long drag, paused, slow exhale straight up and then said

"Shit Ron, have you told Kate yet?"

"That will be my very next call, I want to wait till the fax comes over so I have the acts." We finished our cigarettes chatting about what the effect would be on the office. I agreed to update the computer software, and add some new positions and specialists. The fax was there when we returned; I snagged it off the machine and went into my office. I dialed the phone.

"Kate, guess what? I have some great news."

"I have some bad. My father passed away about an hour ago."

CHAPTER THREE

My Grand Cherokee was passing cars on Interstate 75 headed south to Atlanta. I had taken Kate to the airport two days ago, and was now on the way to the funeral with additional clothes for Kate and a small bag for myself with my best suit. It was a very sad time. Kate was very close with her folks. She was an only child and her folks were like the best friends she never had. They were married forty or so years, raised Kate, and had retired and sold their furniture store about four years ago. They had built a beautiful retirement home outside of Atlanta, and were very active socially around town. The funeral was the largest I had ever been to. I stayed a few nights then hit the road for home and work, leaving Kate to spend some time with her mom.

Once I was back at work, I marveled at how Diane had run the office while I was gone. I told her so too. I was always very aware of what the staff meant to a business. I took the ladies out to dinner one night at the Red Lobster (smoking section of course) where we had good food and they shared the happenings of the week that I was in Atlanta. I picked Kate up at the airport about ten days later. Kate was grieving, a natural process that takes time. I was understanding and let her do her own things. In an effort to take her mind off her loss, we took a drive one afternoon south west of the city along River Road. We found 20 acres of wooded land for sale, with a fantastic view of the Ohio river. Monday morning I walked over to the Real Estate company on the other side of the parking lot and spent the first of our twelve concert profits.

The following months seemed to go by in a blur. We hired a builder and modified an existing house plan that he had done before. 4,000 sqft brick ranch style house with a walk out basement to the bluff over looking the river. Four-car garage, master bath with huge jetted tub, office, den, large living area and two gas log fireplaces. The kitchen was center back, with lots of built ins, stainless steel face appliances. Each time the builder needed money; he got a "concert check". At the end of eight months, we moved in to this dream home, and the last concert check paid it off in full. No mortgage. Life was good eh? Not according to Kate. She was still very unhappy.

The following year was again filled with concert dates. Stan "the Man" was busy as ever, and we continued to follow on his coat tails. Kate and I took a cruise to the Bahamas. Kate visited her mom at least once a month for week or so at a time. I bought a new Grand Cherokee, silver with a leather interior. I took my Black Lab "Shadow" pheasant hunting down in Oklahoma. Kate would visit her mom. I took a hunting trip to Wyoming, and again Kate would visit her mom. Aside from the cruise, Kate and I spent very little of our free time together. We grew further apart. Instead of being the luckiest, happiest couple on the planet, we talked about splitting up. Kate bought herself a new Cadillac Seville, white with tan interior. I liked it so much; I bought a blue one for myself. We continued to make and spend money like it was water. I found a 1966 Cobra Kit car on the web. A quick trip to Chicago and it was mine. I envisioned Kate and I with the top down cruising around. That didn't happen though. We ran out of things to buy actually. The house had everything we wanted, and the garage was full of my toys. Kate got a call from her mom one afternoon, with some bad news. Her health was declining, and soon she would be unable to get along on her own. Kate took a flight down to Atlanta and was there a few days and gave me a call.

Her mom would have about a year left, possible more, depending on how the cancer progressed. Kate had already made the decision to stay in Atlanta, as we had talked of that possibility already. She requested that I bring down her Seville and more clothes, and I was soon on I-75 again passing cars. When I got to Atlanta, Kate and I had a real heart to heart talk. She wanted a divorce. Her deal was simple and well thought out. She wanted her car and her savings plan, and I would keep the house, the dog, and the toys and buy her half of Webber Staffing Services. Kate had contacted a National business broker and had arranged for an appraisal of the business. She had taken the liberty of calling Jack Richfield our attorney to draw up the divorce papers. My mind was just numb when she dropped me off at the Airport. I stopped at a pay phone and fed it my card.

"Good afternoon Webber Staffing Service, Diane speaking."

"Hi Diane, it's me. Can I get you to run by the house and get my Cherokee and pick me up at the airport?"

"Hi Ron, how's things in Atlanta?"

"Peachy"

"Can I bring the Seville instead, more comfort for me in case I have to wait."

"Cherokee please, I have to get the dog at the kennel on the way home."

There was a long pause, then "OK, what flight are you on?"

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