Business or Pleasure?

Those few minutes before the sounds of flight attendants preparing to serve more beverages and what passes for food on an airliner finally woke Deni were heavenly. Feeling her next to me, feeling her warmth and having her hair tickle my nose was something I was going to remember for a long time.

"Good morning, sleepy head."

She stretched, then, realizing that her head was on my shoulder, straightened up a little.

"Oh, I'm so sorry..."

"Don't be," I said. "Best flight I've had in a long, long time." I looked over at her, and we shared a smile and she gave my arm a little hug as she disentangled hers from mine.

We each ordered more coffee, and played with a nasty looking Danish and some lukewarm egg-like substance in silence, as I pondered what had just happened, and what it meant, if anything. If I had to guess, I would guess that Deni was thinking along the same lines.

"You deserve to know why I was so freaked out when I found out I would be working with you, and why I canceled our date," she said at length. I was still enchanted with her accent, with words like "found" which seemed, somehow, to have and extra letter or two in them and were drawn out more than I would.

"Deni, there's no need to justify what you've done. If you're uncomfortable with it, that's that. No need for explanations."

"But there is," she said, "because I obviously find you attractive, apparently even in my sleep." She grinned.

She composed her thoughts for a minute and continued.

"When I was home, in South Africa, I worked for the SABC - the South African Broadcasting Company. I wasn't an on-air talent, I was strictly behind the scenes, mostly working on promotions and public relations, which was a mess.

"I worked there for four years, and by the time I left, I had a lot of responsibility. I was running the PR office, and was interfacing with the Communications Ministry office almost every day. Eventually, the minister began to notice me."

"So, is the SABC part of the Communications Ministry? I'm confused."

"Sort of quasi-independent, or at least it was supposed to be. There was always a lot of talk that the ANC - the African National Congress - used the SABC to control the flow of news. Never anything explicit, but there was always this feeling that we shouldn't look too hard at the ANC's flaws."

"Hard to believe - corrupt politics."

"Anyway, there was a scandal about selecting a vendor to upgrade internet services to the schools in Gauteng and to create wired classrooms, which would allow them to replace textbooks with tablets and chalkboards with smartboards...that sort of thing."

"So they gave the contract to a crony or something?"

"The brother of the Foreign Minister, to be exact, but somehow the news on SABC kept forgetting to mention that. And the newspapers figured out that the Communications Minister, who is like some distant cousin of the Foreign Minister, was putting pressure on the SABC to tread lightly on the story."

"And the SABC news people went along with this?

"Yes. Reluctantly, I'm sure, but not their finest hour. Anyway, I worked on that problem for weeks, and eventually the Minister began to take notice of me. I wish I could tell you he was impressed with my professional skill at bailing his sorry arse out of trouble, but that wasn't it," she said. Deni had a grim look on her face, the memory clearly painful.

"So one evening, I'm in the minister's office waiting for approval on a news release, and he comes out and calls me into his private chambers. I start explaining to him what we had prepared, but after a couple of minutes it's obvious that he could care less," she shudders a little. "For weeks whenever I was in a meeting with him, he would say these things that made me uncomfortable, like, 'That dress looks outstanding on you, Mthandeni.' Little inappropriate remarks, but nothing too outrageous."

"But it made you uncomfortable."

"Yes, but I could handle that kind of thing. Sexism is rampant in the government. I got used to it."

She stopped for a minute, like she was gathering her strength. "Then that night, after I'm in his private chambers, he starts talking to me like we're intimate, calling me 'Baby.' I just ignored it and sat down in front of his desk, thinking we were going to talk about this statement, but instead of sitting down in his desk chair, he comes up behind me and puts his hands on my shoulders and starts giving me a massage."

At this point, Deni looked down at her hands folded in her lap, where she was nervously playing with a ring on one of her fingers. And then she looked up at me and made eye contact and I saw pain there for the first time.

Her voice got so quiet I had to lean in to hear her, so that our heads were just a few inches apart.

"And then he leaned down and ran his hands over my breasts and squeezed them, like we were lovers or something." Her voice cracked a little, and she had to take a deep breath. "You have to understand, he is an enormous man with these huge hands. I tried to stand up, tried to get away from him, but he was so strong. I was struggling and crying, and he kept squeezing my breasts like they were his personal playthings. If his secretary hadn't knocked on the door, I'm sure he would have raped me right there in his office."

"Deni, I'm so sorry."

She was quiet now, lost in her thoughts for a minute. "Over the next four or five weeks I did everything I could to avoid him. I would send male associates to any meeting if I thought there was a chance he would be there. I would messenger things to his office for approval, rather than bring them up in person. I know this is irrational, but I felt so ashamed. I did nothing wrong, but I was so ashamed and guilty that I tried to just stay in my office. I didn't want anyone to see me.

"I was spending more and more of my time trying to figure out how to avoid him, and everyone on my staff knew something was wrong. Finally, he tired of my little game and summoned me to his office.

"I was literally sick to my stomach going up there. When I was finally called in to see him, he was all business at first, tearing apart things I had worked on, belittling my efforts. But then he just stopped and stared at me and said, 'I can make your life miserable or I can make you a wealthy woman. Your choice.' Then he got up from his chair and came around his desk, and I moved back toward the door and stopped with my hand on the door knob. Deni gritted her teeth a little before she went on, struggling to keep her composure.

"I never have been so angry and focused in my life. I told him he was a pig, with not just one wife at home, but three. I said 'How dare you speak to me like this?' And when I said that he just laughed, and told me he could say whatever he wanted to me. And then he started to approach me. I opened the door behind me and fled and he just stood there laughing. He didn't care who knew that he was abusive to me."

"Couldn't you file a sexual harassment complaint?"

"Oh, I could have, I suppose. But he would have buried it. You can't imagine how much power these people have. I went home and cried, and tried to figure out what to do with my life. I kept trying to figure out some way to keep my job, but never did I consider letting him touch me ever again. When I went to work the next morning, my badge didn't open the door, and security brought me into an office where there was a box full of my personal possessions - pictures of my family, of our dog, copies of personal papers that had been in my desk, old receipts for takeout food, a postcard my mother had sent me while on holiday, even a box of tampons I kept in the bottom drawer of my desk.

"That felt like more of a violation than him touching me, to be honest. Every little bit of personal privacy I treasured had been violated and was sitting there in that box in security. The director of security came in and handed me a letter, saying I had been dismissed for cause - namely insubordination - and I was disqualified for any kind of unemployment benefit."

Deni looked up and made eye contact with me again. Her eyes were tearing up, just at that stage before the tear forms and rolls down her cheek.

"I went from being a modern, middle-class South African woman one moment to felling like I was more like a possession than a person. I was just stunned. I stood there for a couple of minutes taking it in, until my young guard became impatient with me. 'Come along, Sissi. You must leave now.'"

I reached over and took Deni's hand in mine, and gave it a gentle squeeze. She gave me a little smile. As we held hands, the rest of her story came tumbling out.

"A week later I started applying for jobs, sending out resumes and trying to network to find out about openings. But many of the people I thought were friends wouldn't even take my call. I never got a single call back on any of the resumes I sent out. I don't know how he did it, but he had poisoned the well. No one would touch me. It was outrageous and unfair and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it."

She sat quietly for a couple of minutes were her eyes closed, and then looked up at me and smiled again.

"I looked for jobs in SA for a year, taking the occasional freelance job to survive, and watching my savings dwindle. Eventually, I knew I would have to get out of the country to get away from this horrible stain on my reputation. That's how I came to the States. So some good has come of it. I have a great job, the best, most exciting work I've ever done and I've met some wonderful people." She looked at me, and gently squeezed my hand again. "Including you. You've been really kind to me. When I told you I wasn't going to be able to date you, I had these flashbacks - like I was reliving that awful experience again. It was like I was standing in that security office again, with my life stripped bare for anyone to see. I knew you weren't like them, but I was vulnerable, and my experience was so fresh, I just couldn't see anyway that it could work.

"And, honestly, it brought back to me something I thought I had put behind me. After he groped me, and I was fired, I felt a little like I had brought this on myself. I've always been a very tactile person. I touch my friends and my coworkers, like with you when I took your hands at that fundraiser. I feel - I felt, I guess - like I had been putting out the wrong signals. I don't know why I do it, why I feel the need to touch people and I've been consciously trying to stop."

My hand holding hers suddenly seemed so inappropriate, so awkward. I started to disengage

"I'm sorry, Deni, I..."

"No, don't be," she grabbed my hand and wouldn't let go. "With you... with you, it just seems so natural. Like I have this connection with you...I trust you. I've only known you a couple of weeks, and yet I feel like it's been so much longer. You're the first man I've met since that happened that I have trusted. Honestly, you're the first man I've touched at all in a year."

"Collin, I know you were disappointed when I canceled our date, but I haven't seen a hint of resentment or recrimination. We've been able to work together like nothing happened. Honestly, I can't quite believe it.

"I just felt you should know this about me. I'm still a little gun shy when it comes to men, especially powerful men. Just know that it's not you."

I admit I was a little overwhelmed. I didn't know what to say, and wasn't really sure what this meant for Deni and me, or if there ever would be another dinner or movie. Right at that moment, I realized there was a lot of hustle and bustle in the cabin, and the flight attendant came over and asked me to raise my seatback and tray table to the upright and locked position, and then we were in Dallas and other than a couple of lingering moments of eye contact with Deni during the day, it was eight or nine hours of back to back meetings with a client who was as enchanted with Deni as I had been.

Chapter Four

In the cab on the way back to our hotel, Deni was quiet. We talked for a couple of minutes about the day's meetings, and it was clear that we agreed - they could hardly have gone better. But then she withdrew a little into her corner and closed her eyes. I sat there and watched her, also quiet, noting, not for the first time her extraordinary eyelashes, long and black with a graceful curve upward. Combined with the soft curls of her hair, she was photogenic enough to be one of the models - like Karen Dennison. I could see her, in fact, in a commercial shot in a gym, improbably perfectly put together with just the right makeup and hair in place with a close-up that allows readers to see those beautiful brown eyes and eyelashes.

When I came out of my little daydream, I realized Deni had opened her eyes and was watching me, watching her. And she just laughed at me.

Later, we met for dinner, and as we were waiting to be seated, I reached over and fixed the collar of her blouse, which must have gotten tangled up in her coat when she took it off. Then I allowed the back of my hand to just graze her cheek a little. Her eyes met mine, and she smiled.

Over dinner, we celebrated our success with the client with a bottle of wine, and I was impressed at the steak Deni ordered and proceeded to demolish.

"I was so nervous at that lunch presentation, and I really couldn't eat anything," she confessed. "You must think I'm a glutton."

"I love a woman who can tackle a big steak," I said. "Makes me feel less guilty about ordering one. My doctor wouldn't approve. He wants me to eat seeds and nuts, I swear."

"If anyone deserves a steak tonight, it's you. I am amazed at your relationship with this client, especially Mr. Jorgensen. He's so intimidating."

"Ken?" I asked. "I guess he is a little intimidating. I've known him forever, and he no longer has that effect on me, if he ever did. I was in his office once when his daughter stopped by with his grandchildren, just to drop something off. He just stopped what he was doing and got down on one knee and hugged them and played with them and was just their Grampa for a few minutes. Now, mind you, I wouldn't want to be on the opposite side in a dispute with him, but he's a decent guy."

"How do you do it?" she asked. "Everywhere we go, you have these friendships that go back a long time, with Mr. Jorgensen, with Jack, with Vito, with Judith. You seem to be surrounded by people you've known for ages and I can tell by just watching them; they respect you and listen when you talk."

I considered what she said for a minute, and was a little uncomfortable with the look on her face, which bordered on admiration. I still wasn't sure what I wanted from this woman, but the admiration of a junior associate wasn't on the menu. Still, it was an important part of my business philosophy, and she would be an important part of this client's business going forward.

"When I was your age, I was all about the deal and the work, and, honestly, I stepped on a lot of toes. At some point I figured out that life is all about relationships and I began to be very careful about how I treat people."

"Well, it has worked, clearly."

"I still have to step on toes, occasionally. It can't be helped. But about 10 years ago, I went to this seminar on mutual gains negotiating. It was run by this MIT professor, and the whole approach is, basically, you don't have to lose in order for me to win. It really opened my eyes to a new way of doing business."

We sat for a while in silence, enjoying our wine, and letting our meals settle.

"Deni, I'm so glad you told me your story today. I know it wasn't easy for you to relive that experience."

"I really felt you ought to know."

"I hope you know that the last thing I would want is for you to go out with me because I hold some power over your career. That's not me."

"I know that, Collin. I never once thought that of you. You know, ever since that experience with the minister, my first impulse is to pull away. I'm acting out of fear, and, honestly, that's not like me. It's like a flight or fight response. And I have to consciously decide not to be afraid anymore."

"Deni, if we had met for the first time that day in my conference room, I would have been right there where you are - no mixing business and pleasure. But we didn't, and I have to tell you, brief as it was, that dinner we shared was big for me. Since Amy died, I haven't been on a date. You're the first woman I've kissed in all that time - really the first woman other than Amy I've kissed in decades. It made me think that maybe there is something left in this world for me other than work and my kids."

"Don't talk like that, Collin. I don't know how old you are, but you act very young. You talk like you're some old codger."

"So, how old do you think I am?"

"Collin, you're putting me on the spot."

"Just guess, I won't be mad. C'mon. One guess."

"Well, you have a kid in his mid-twenties, so I'd guess, maybe late forties, early fifties? Mid-fifties, maybe?"

"OK, I can live with that."

"You're not going to tell me now?"

"Nope, You'll just have to get to know me better."

I was still laughing at her when our waiter came by with the check, and I took a quick look at it and handed him a credit card. In a few minutes, we were walking toward the elevators, each of us a little lost in thought. I know I could articulate all of my reservations about getting involved with someone again, my kids' objections, the age issue, the fact that we were from such different cultures. The whole idea seemed improbable and risky, like my emotional well-being was at stake. But I also knew that when I was with her, I didn't care about any of those things. And when we weren't together, she was mostly what I was thinking about, and it had been that way since that very first moment in the bagel shop.

I remembered that scene in Pride and Prejudice, where the older Mr. Darcy confesses his love for Elizabeth. "You have bewitched me, body and soul." I wasn't ready to say that I loved Deni. But she definitely had cast a spell on me.

The elevator doors opened, and Deni and I stepped in, and reached over and pressed the buttons for our floors - eighteen for me, and twenty-one for Deni. Then Deni came close to me and slipped her arm around my waist. My arm went around her shoulders, and I pulled her to me.

"I would invite you to my room for a nightcap, but I'm afraid I have nothing to offer you," she said to me, looking up.

"Well, rank hath its privileges," I said. "I have a suite with a complete bar. Would you like to join me?"

Just about then, the elevator doors opened and we stepped out onto the eighteenth floor and walked to the end, where my suite was located. Inside, I poured us each a whiskey - scotch for her, Jameson for me - and touched our glasses together in a silent toast. Then Deni put her glass down, and took mine and put it on the table next to hers, and put her arms around me and held me tight. When she looked up at me, I kissed her, hungrily and without any of the reservations I had been thinking of just a few minutes earlier. I put my hand on her back and pulled her closer. She must have felt my erection poking into her, and I was conscious of not wanting to push her too fast. But I was beyond the point of restraint. I moved a hand from her back to her breast and was frustrated by the suit jacket she was still wearing. She sensed this and broke for a moment to take the jacket off and then was back, with her hand feeling my hard cock through my pants and mine her breast through the silk camisole she wore under her suit jacket. Deni was fumbling with my zipper, and my hand had moved to her ass, never once breaking our kiss. But then, my phone rang, and the moment was broken. I grabbed it off the table where I had set it when we came in, and looked at the screen.