It Only Took Twenty Years Pt. 01

"I'll have a bourbon on the rocks," I told the bartender, "and she'll have," I said as I turned to face Dawn.

She smiled at me, and, without looking at the bartender, said, "A double Jack Black on the rocks and a large Diet Coke."

The tall brunette tending the bar said, "Soft drinks are, but Jack Daniel's is not included in our reception. Only well drinks, draft beer, and wine are included."

I turned toward the bartender and said, "Thanks, Cara, but tonight, I don't give a crap. Please start me a tab. This can't go on the room charge and forget what I said. Pour the same for me, please."

Dawn's somewhat rare smile changed to an even less-seen cute, mischievous grin. She was a Jack girl!

One or two drinks with a meal could be charged to travel expenses, but I was fine paying for both of us out of my own pocket because I figured we were both a tad stressed and could do with a relaxing evening. After the pours, we took our ice-cold glasses and settled into a comfortable spot at the most remote table in the lounge which had two chairs facing the wall and a comfortable leather booth facing the room. I sat in the booth, she sat in the chair opposite me, and we sipped at our beverages.

We gabbed and chatted for a few hours with a couple of refills during our conversation before we both returned to the bar for yet another. I enjoyed watching her cute little bottom as she walked. It was a lovely form in her snug jeans, complete with the faintest hint of her undies barely evident underneath. I returned to my previous seat, but, instead of the opposite, she sat next to me. We idly watched the few folks milling about the lounge and lobby.

We engaged in more conversation about the potential fate of the two technicians which had forced Dawn to come to Houston. It turned out they both were later terminated when it was discovered they were falsifying their timecards.

Dawn and I talked for another hour during which I learned quite a few more endearing facts about her.

I learned she was an only child, sent to live in the United States with her aunt and uncle. She didn't understand any English during her first year in public school yet knew the material anyway. She managed to skip a year of both junior and senior high school. She loved reading Vietnamese literature, telling me it kept her rooted and fluent in her former native language.

I was instructed to stop letting her imbibe if she began to intersperse Vietnamese with English when speaking. I was simply … charmed.

After a few minutes of silence, she echoed an earlier sentiment. "I hate Houston."

She stretched the muscles of her limbs and neck, arching her back. I heard a few faint pops and cracks. Her shirt rode up slightly and I saw a little sliver of her bared, taut tummy. When she returned to a more relaxed position, her right knee settled against my left thigh. I slowly retracted mine, but she further eased into it.

"You know what?" she said, appearing and sounding very comfortable. "You're one of the good guys. I like you."

I sat still and quiet, feeling the warmth of her leg transfer through her clothes and mine. She stretched again, making a guttural growl, adjusting herself so her hip was barely a few inches from mine. She shifted her weight farther to the edge of the booth.

I couldn't help but look. With her head tilted the way it was, her neck was very exposed. I saw it ripple with a swallow. Lower, her collar bones dove under her cotton camisole which was deliciously form-fitting. Her tee fully covered the curves of her small breasts, but the outline of the tops of the cups of her brassiere telegraphed through the taut black cotton of her cami. A snow-white strap had fallen off her nearest shoulder.

It startled me when her right hand darted to move her ponytail from behind her to over her shoulder and atop a breast. Her hand settled on my left thigh, resting above my knee for a few seconds before returning to the table. I didn't move. I trailed my gaze down her tummy, past her waist and lower torso, and saw her legs slightly parted. The white denim was snuggling her. I looked away again.

I can't begin to describe how the compound curves I observed excited me. My body definitely reacted. She rested her cheek on my shoulder and exhaled slowly but audibly.

That's when it happened. I'd detected it before. Yes, I'd noticed the scent, but not like then. I suddenly became highly aware and conscious of it.

Oh. My. Word.

I didn't know if it was some wonderful mix of the scents of her shampoo, deodorant, perfume, laundry detergent, her breath, or even sweat considering how hard we'd worked. Just … wow. I couldn't risk acting upon what my man-brain was craving. I jostled my shoulder gently to nudge her head upright.

"Alright, Dawn, it's been a long day. We're both pretty tipsy. I'll walk you to your room," I said.

Into her nearest ear, I whispered, "You know what, Devo? I like you, too."

I don't know what possessed me to do it, but I softly kissed her temple.

"Don't call me Devo , pervert," she said, but with a slight smile and without a single trace of animus in her voice. Taking my hand as she rose, just a tad wobbly, she followed me.

I paid the tab and escorted Dawn to her corner suite. I waited until her door closed and latched before heading back to the elevators. It was just shy of eleven o'clock when I returned to my room. I spent an hour wondering what might have happened if I'd asked to stay in the other bed of Dawn's corner suite before sleep finally overtook me.

Chapter 2: Saturday, June 21, 1997

I slept late and returned to the campus at ten o'clock the next morning to polish up the remaining documentation and activity script before the next day's cutover.

Dawn stormed into IDF Room 4-2D before noon.

"WTF, George! I had to take a taxi here, and I've been all over the campus looking for you."

WTF indeed! And … George ?

She simply blinked at me with an exasperated expression.

"I thought you were flying back to Dallas today. I assumed you would take the shuttle back to the airport!"

I stepped at least two arm-lengths away from her, grabbing all of the pointed tools which I used to adjust cable ties to keep them away from her.

She chuckled at my display. "You're a dork."

I was confused.

Dawn continued, "I figured I may as well stick with it here in case you bone up another problem before tomorrow."

"Why didn't you page me?"

"I did, Will! Four times!"

I looked at my pager and discovered the battery was dead. I showed it to her before fishing a fresh triple-A from my bag.

She rolled her eyes at me and shook her head. "I didn't notice."

We canvased each one of the thirty-seven IDF rooms at least three times, triple-checking everything, and correcting whatever cosmetic issues we felt needed adjustment. Considering an hour of unplanned downtime at the site equated to hundreds of thousands of dollars of lost revenue, caution was truly warranted.

All in all, it was a completely ordinary, tedious workday.

What was neither ordinary nor tedious, though, were the times Dawn placed her hand on my shoulder, hand, back, or upper leg as we studied output from the numerous consoles, ensuring everything was complete and ready.

That was still two decades before the #MeToo movement. It wasn't because I didn't enjoy Dawn's attentions, but the thought of crossing a line concerned me as much morally or ethically as it did professionally. I caught myself several times getting way too close to the line for my own comfort.

To make a long story shorter, the campus cutover was a perfect success.

The Houston site, including all its manufacturing lines, was offline for less than eight of the ten planned hours. On Monday morning, everything had been upgraded and was operating much more efficiently than the decade before. Spreadsheets opened and saved faster, designers' EDA tools displayed complex designs more quickly, manufacturing telemetry raced at record speed, and jobs in the compute farm executed rapidly enough that their storage arrays were taxed. That issue wasn't our problem. Our job was an outright success.

We flew back to Dallas together on a Wednesday afternoon flight. More than once, her knee rested against mine, or her head rested on my shoulder, and I sensed the same alluring … something .

These kinds of "innocent" interactions continued for years (except for when one of us was seeing someone romantically, perhaps) as we continued to form a closer and even more familiar friendship. I tried frustratedly to dismiss them all. Sometimes they'd keep me awake at night, sometimes they'd help me sleep very well.

You might be wondering why I didn't escalate the relationship.

Primarily, it was because our employer had a very strict, if not Draconian, non-fraternization policy. If we were to actually get involved in any way, shape, or form, we were required to disclose the existence of said relationship to Human Resources. Failure to do so could result in immediate termination, just like what transpired with Karen and David. If we wanted to remain employed at the company, one of us would have been required to transfer to a completely different business unit doing what would likely be a completely unfamiliar job function. It all had to do with government contract regulations meant to protect employees from outside influences.

We excelled at our careers. In our tenures, we'd both been promoted several times up to senior divisional leadership positions reporting directly to the CIO. I was stubborn, perhaps, but wasn't willing to risk my career at any point along the way. Though we never discussed the matter, I assumed Dawn felt the same way.

Though we absolutely and most definitely flirted with each other, it always (to me, at least) was intended as playful signs of mutual admiration and oh-so-slightly more than platonic affection. Though we occasionally grazed it, we never crossed "the line." I think we both enjoyed that part of our friendship. We both, of course, had the occasional romantic relationship with outsiders, but none ever lasted for either of us. After a while, I stopped trying.

Even though our increasing responsibilities in different roles over the years made it more difficult, Dawn and I always remained close and in contact as best we could.

Things began to alter course, though, when a hush-hush acquisition was being negotiated between our corporation and a competitor just behind us in terms of market share and margin on the industry leader board. That company was headquartered in Lexington, Kentucky. I spent much of 2015 flying back and forth in fact-finding missions, audits, reviews, et cetera, reporting information to my boss, the CIO. Few employees of that company knew I was anything other than a simple management consultant with a contractor's badge.

When the deal was finalized, it was publicly announced. The two corporations would combine under our company's name. Most, but not all, of our executive leadership would remain in place. Several of theirs retired under previously arranged golden parachutes, and some from both entities would "resign" and move to a spin-off independent corporation.

The government regulators would not allow the merged entity to retain one specific arm of our technology portfolios, so the corporations shed it to a new and independent entity to prevent a deemed monopoly. It didn't matter that the entity was staffed by former employees of the two companies. As long as there were no tangible remaining ties to them, the regulators were satisfied.

I was chosen by senior leadership to head a one-year integration program of the information technology division of the acquired company which required me to temporarily relocate to Lexington.

Dawn was chosen to manage the on-boarding and training of the 1,200-or-so IT employees into our corporate cultures and processes. She jetted about all over the world, and we only occasionally bumped into each other on overlapping trips back to the home office. We were both relishing the enormous challenges and responsibilities of our careers.

During the last weeks of my assignment, I was surprised (if not completely startled) when Dawn stormed into my office suite's reception area on a mid-July Thursday afternoon while I was discussing a presentation with my administrative assistant.

Chapter 3: Thursday, July 14, 2016 (Late afternoon)

"Hey, you idiot! " Dawn barked, striding purposefully by my administrative assistant whose shock at the intrusion paralyzed her for only a few milliseconds. Ellena quickly rose from her desk and blocked Dawn's path.

Dawn's face then smiled warmly as she was stopped in her tracks.

I laughed as I waved. "It's okay, Ell. This is one of my colleagues from the Dallas headquarters."

Dawn turned to face her, and, extending her hand, said, "Hello, Ellena. I'm Dawn Vo." She must have stolen a quick glance at Ell's badge and read her name without missing a single beat. "Will and I have worked together for something like twenty years, and I wanted to bring back some of his nightmarish memories of our early days."

Ell shook Dawn's offered hand, saying, "Someday I will have to ask Mr. Richards what that's all about, because I was about to flatten you."

Dawn walked over to where I was standing.

I smiled as I said, "Make no mistake, Dawn, she would have done it."

She certainly could have. Ell was just shy of six feet tall, maybe 160 or so pounds, and sturdily built. Ellena wasn't any ordinary administrative assistant. She was also a trained security guard. Like all people from her nation, she'd served in the Israeli military, but unlike most, she re-enlisted twice.

All of the assistants, whether male or female, assigned to the transition teams' leads were similarly trained to fend off disgruntled employees who were getting a raw (or no) deal. When mergers happen, there's always an overlap. One of the most stressful and regrettable tasks of my job was to decide which one hundred thirty or so employees in the division wouldn't be needed.

I greeted Dawn with a casual, professional hug. "It is so good to see you! You're looking great, as always. How long has it been? Almost six months?"

She had always seemed ageless. She appeared the same twenty-something years old as when I first met her.

We went into my office, and she handed me her suitcoat which I folded and draped over a chair. We sat together on the couch and caught up on our experiences, reminiscing about things ages ago, and had a few good laughs.

"Guess who I ran into a few weeks ago."

"I give up," I answered.

"Bethany Welsley," she said, naming the up-and-coming technician who Dawn and I had recommended for promotion after our Houston work ages before.

"Oh yeah? What's she doing these days?"

"She was tapped last month by the newly appointed board of directors of the spin-off company to be their CIO. She apparently stayed connected with a network of folks and remained on their radars after she departed a while back. It sounds like she was on the short-list fairly early in the process."

"Seriously? How great is that?"

"It's definitely a great move for her since she's perfectly qualified for the position. I wouldn't be a bit surprised to see more people abandon ship here or there to go work for her. There's more to the story, but it can wait. Before I forget, are you free for dinner tonight?"

"Ell, what's on my schedule this evening?" I called out to the anteroom.

"The last item on your calendar is a phone call with Derick Rand in San Jose at 6:30," she answered via the intercom, refusing to yell back because it was "unprofessional."

Dawn placed her hand on my thigh. "I've missed you so much. Let's get dressed up and go have a fancy dinner, my treat."

It was a cute, funny line, considering we were both on expense accounts.

"Better idea. Let's go to a biker bar and get alley-pissing drunk."

She burst out laughing, and slowly swung her fist toward my face, giving me plenty of time to intercept it in my open palms. Her hand relaxed. I smoothed her fingers through mine and placed her hand back on my leg where it had been. She gently squeezed my quadriceps in a tender, mild, shared, definitely enjoyed manner of the safe affections. That's all they had ever been, and I still enjoyed them.

"Compromise? I'm at the Hyatt Regency. Come around eight o'clock. I'm in room 512. We can relax at the Bluefire Grill in the hotel."

"Sounds great. Five o'clock it is."

"You're such a dork," she said as she rose from the couch and walked toward the door.

Unlike many affectations she exhibited, I wondered if a particular one was reserved for me alone. Her hips swayed wonderfully as she walked out, drawing my eyes to fixate on her absolutely perfect rump. She was wearing a pinstriped business suit which fit her slender, petite figure to a tee. The way the pants were stitched made the contrasting gray-on-black lines come together in perfectly aligned chevrons in acute angles near the waist, becoming more obtuse as they descended down the cleft of her tush. The geometric intersections were like those of a topographic map, showcasing the curves of her backside beautifully.

She stopped and turned to face me.

"Will, I am very much looking forward to seeing you tonight," she said softly.

There was something different about her eyes. She turned to walk again. Her hips steadied before she fetched her coat and exited my office into the anteroom where Ell's desk was situated.

As she approached Ellena, she said, "Would you please block Will's calendar this evening from six to eleven? We have a dinner meeting."

Ell looked over to me. I nodded.

"Certainly, Ms. Vo. What's your email ID?"

"Dee Vo. Dee vee oh," Dawn replied.

Ell set the appointment and we both heard our Apple watches chime in receipt of the new event.

Dee Vo. Devo .

I showed Dawn to the door and watched her walk down the corridor. She smiled at me and waved over her shoulder as she went around the corner.

"Sir, would you like me to reschedule your call with Mr. Rand?"

I looked at my watch. It read 4:37pm.

"No need. I'll make the call from home."

"I don't understand. Your dinner meeting with Ms. Vo is at six."

"Don't worry about it, Ell. That's just her way of making sure I have time to get my act together. Long story."

I strode back to my office to collect my things, then headed toward the suite's exit. "Feel free to leave early yourself," I added as I departed.

Chapter 4: July 14, 2016, (Evening)

I knocked on Dawn's hotel room's door carrying a medium-sized gift bag promptly at 8:00.

"Hey!" she said after opening her door with a warm smile. "What's in the bag?"

I jostled the parcel. It made a faint metallic jangle.

"It's a surprise I'm almost certain you'll enjoy."

I offered my arm, and she took it with her hand.

As we walked to the elevators, she bumped me playfully with her hip, twice. As we watched the numbers on the LED displays in the elevator lobby, she turned to look at the ones on the opposite side. She was so close to me that when she pivoted, I could have sworn I felt her chest graze my arm.

What's gotten into her? I asked myself as my internal caution light illuminated.

When we arrived at the Bluefire Grill, Dawn approached the hostess. I saw her lean close and speak. I followed Dawn as the hostess escorted us to a table. I had an overwhelming episode of déjà vu . It was her … something . I hadn't sensed it in a long time.

When we arrived at the table, I pulled out a chair for Dawn. I sat across from her, and our waiter arrived mere moments later.