One Gifted Secretary

In the late 1980s, way before the Me Too movement, there lived a nice, but somewhat chauvinistic CEO named James Alexander LaPierre. James ran Worthington Mutual, an insurance agency that employed over fifty people, including a gaggle of secretaries, very sexy secretaries, at least according to Mr. LaPierre. The women—or girls, he liked to call them—were conventionally pretty: long legs, big hair, photogenic faces. But there was another asset that he insisted they possess in order to get hired; they needed to be brainy as well. The proverbial dumb blond need not apply, no matter how long her legs or how big her hair. Brainy women, high IQ women, turned James on as much, if not more, than their physical assets.

Very few of these gals held college degrees for one reason or another, and most of them came from blue collar, working class families. The barometer James used to test their smarts was the Wonderlic Personnel Test, a twelve-minute, fifty question IQ test that had been used by companies to evaluate their would-be employees for decades. The test gave an accurate indication of problem solving and analytical ability. This was the era when computers were fast replacing typewriters and older methods of computing and storing data. Secretaries with just "average" intelligence were having a tough time learning the new software being developed at breakneck speed. You didn't need to be a genius or a Mensa member to learn this stuff, but it sure helped if you were on the upside of the Bell Curve. Secretarial pools around the country were being filled with people that some would count among the cognitive elite, people with IQs above 115, people who could learn the advancing software and learn it quickly.

James, or JL as he liked to be called, was pushing forty and had never been married. "I like women too much," he was wont to say. He meant that he didn't think he could stay monogamous that long. That didn't stop some of the single women in the office from wishing they could snag him, and for good reason. He was successful in the conventional American Dream sense of the term—a well off executive who kept his strapping six-foot-two, handsome self in good shape with disciplined eating and vigorous games of racquetball. His thinning premature grey hair gave him a distinguished, professorial kind of look that women found sexy. He was also a fair employer, giving raises and bonuses to his employees, including the secretaries, all of whom earned much more than minimum wage. He made sexist comments from time to time, though he never forced himself on anyone, never chased a woman around his desk, not literally or metaphorically.

His dalliances with some of his secretaries was a worst kept secret. There was no metaphorical casting couch—these women were all too willing to sleep with the boss, some of whom harbored hopes of something long-term. They got particularly excited during JL's self-created, twice-yearly Sexy Secretaries Week, a wild (some said perverted) variation of National Secretaries Week. Those interested were required to take a different version of the Wonderlic than what they took before coming onboard. Then, the lady with the highest score received a financial bonus in her weekly paycheck, as well as a date with the boss. Winners who wished to enter the contest again were required to wait at least a year.

To avoid jealously among the ranks, JL wouldn't announce the winner. Discreetly, he'd slip the bonus check into their pay envelope and make the date after work hours. This left them guessing, though the winner sometimes gave herself away through excessive smiling and giggling.

Alyssa Combs had become one of JL's favorites. In her late twenties, she was the sole blond among the secretarial group at that time and the "smartest" if one based intelligence solely on IQ. Her Wonderlic score of 139 put her IQ in the high 120s to 130 range. So much for dumb blonds. In addition to her secretarial duties, she tutored the tech-challenged in the company (management and secretaries alike) on the finer points of computer software. She got bonus pay for this, a fact she kept to herself. In this era of big hair, Alyssa fit right in. She wore her golden locks in layered waves and swirls that dropped just below her shoulders. She dressed more professionally than most of the others, more executive than secretarial in her tasteful skirt and jacket suit combos.

Alyssa came onboard during the waning days of the Reagan administration. No surprise, she impressed JL with her Wonderlic score as well as her blond good looks and wry sense of humor. She laughed when her co-workers first told her about Sexy Secretaries Week. She thought they were joking until the actual week came and she found herself once again in a room by herself, pencil in hand and the Wonderlic test spread out on the desk before her, timed by a staffer in an adjacent room. This is silly, she thought, laughing to herself, while still determined to do the best she could. The questions were different, though of the same type that appeared on the first test she took. Practice might not make perfect, but it can make better as Alyssa proved by scoring an impressive 141, a two-point improvement over last time.

The thing is, she didn't know just how well she scored. None of them did. The scores were a closely guarded secret. If they asked, JL would say something like, "Good enough to work for me." Of course, when the winner saw her bonus check and JL asked her out, she surmised that she had outscored her co-workers, just not by how much.

Alyssa's score was an all-time record for company secretaries. She was only mildly curious how she did. She knew she had done well because she knew she was smart. School and other cognitive challenges had always come easy to her. She was a whiz at Rubik's Cube, could beat the older brother who had taught her to play chess. She never went to college. Coming from a family of five kids, her factory-worker dad couldn't afford to send her.

JL never tried to cajole any of the secretaries that piqued his interest. If one declined his invite, that was that. Alyssa Combs was hardly among the few who declined. She thought JL was the sexiest, best looking boss she had ever worked for. It didn't hurt that he drove an Acura—not the car specifically, but what it stood for. After all, this was the go-go, greed is good eighties. "Yes, I'd love to," she said when he asked her to dinner.

She had never been to Marconi's, which featured great food at a moderate price. She didn't know quite what to expect. She'd heard the rumors of JL bedding his Wonderlic champs on the first date. One-night stands were hardly her thing, and if that was JL's intention with her, if that's all he wanted, he could forget it. Thus, she felt somewhat guarded as they faced each other across the table in the subdued lighting of the main dining room. She wore a blue dress and high heels and noticed, before they had entered, the way JL stared at her full, shapely calves. She felt a bit overdressed compared to his attire, jeans and a long-sleeve, open collar, casual dress shirt, blue with light blue stripes. His brown leather, rubber-soled shoes looked like something you'd wear at a bowling alley. He'd look great in anything he wore, she decided, while perusing her menu. After they ordered, she couldn't resist asking what she'd been curious about ever since she learned of his Sexy Secretaries Week. "So, JL, did you ever take the Wonderlic yourself? And, if so, how'd you do?"

"You know, you're the first secretary who ever asked me that," he said. "I cheated a little bit because I timed myself the twelve minutes. How'd I do? Pretty good, though not nearly as good as you."

She grinned and reminded him that she didn't know how she did. "Only the boss knows, the girls told me, and the scores stay with him."

He nodded. "Right. But aren't you curious?"

"A little." She paused, debating if she should say something else in that regard. "Look, JL, I am curious but I also think this whole thing is kind of silly. I mean, it sounds like you've got an IQ fetish or something."

He grinned and nodded. "Perhaps I do, because I find brainy, attractive women like yourself sexy to a fault."

She shook her head, not fully comprehending. "Some guys I've been out with are intimidated by bright women. An ex-boyfriend of mine couldn't stand it when I'd win at Scrabble and chess. Another self-proclaimed Rubik's Cube expert refused to play after I beat him a few times. College-educated guys are the worst. They can't stand being beaten in anything brainy by a chick who didn't go beyond high school."

"I get it. The male ego is a fragile thing. But I'm far from intimidated. I graduated from Franklin and Marshall, not exactly top tier but pretty good. Then got an MBA at Loyola. My IQ is above average, even in the superior range. But, if the Wonderlic has the validity that it's supposed to, then, IQ-wise, for lack of a better word, you're smarter than me."

"Then I should be CEO," she laughed. "Maybe we can change positions. I know, I need a college degree." She had already told him why she didn't attend college.

He laughed with her. Then he turned serious. "Look, you might not make CEO, but you're smart enough to work your way out of the secretarial pool and into another department. Human resources, for example."

"Thanks, JL, but the truth is, I'm not that ambitious. I'm comfortable where I am, especially solving problems for people and getting paid extra for it. Worthington's a great company to work for, and the benefits are tough to beat. I mean, what other company holds an IQ competition for its secretaries and then awards the winner a bonus check, plus a dinner at Marconi's with the CEO?"

He laughed again, more at himself, knowing full well how ridiculous his IQ competition sounded to most people. "We're unique in that regard, no question about it. But it's all in good fun."

While the waiter served their order of surf and turf and poured White Merlot into their glasses, Alyssa began to wonder what sort of post-dinner fun, if any, JL had in mind. Sure, she found him boyishly charming and fun. But if he thought that she'd become one of his play things—wham bam, then see you in the office on Monday, ma'am—he had another thing coming.

*****

The post-dinner fun that JL had in mind was exactly what Alyssa thought he might. This beautiful and sexy secretary was so far the brainiest that he had ever hired, and he couldn't wait to take her to bed. Few of the Wonderlic winners that accepted his invite to dinner had ever turned him down. The routine rarely varied. He took them back to his three-story, renovated late nineteenth century townhouse. Maybe they'd talk awhile, have another drink, watch a video, listen to music. Then it was off to the bedroom, sometimes via his sofa. There was almost a tacit, unspoken agreement between himself and the woman. So, after they left Marconi's and he said they'd be going back to his place, he was taken aback when she asked, "What for?"

He stuck his key into the ignition, hesitated turning it. "Um, well, ah, don't you want to?"

She sighed and shook her head. "Look, JL, I've heard what happens after you take your Wonderlic winners to dinner. Pardon the cliché, but I'm not that kind of girl."

He grinned. "And what kind is that?"

"The kind that jumps into bed right away with a guy she's not even dating, with a guy who wants her just for you know what."

"Whoa there, partner, I'm not that kind of guy either. What if I told you that you'll be perfectly safe at my place? No pressure to do anything. I enjoy being with you, Alyssa. I'm a chess player too, you know."

She laughed. "So that's what we'll be doing, playing chess?"

"If you'd like. I also have Scrabble. Monopoly too." He caught her skeptical look. "No, really."

"JL, I've heard lines before, but yours is quite original, I must admit." She chuckled.

"I'm glad you're amused but I'm as sincere as can be. I've got a beautiful chess set. Nice big board, wood pieces, hand-carved, or so I was told."

She looked out her window at the traffic passing in the night. 'Sincere as can be,' he said. He did sound sincere. She wanted to trust him. One, because he was her boss; and two, she thought he was cute. She turned to him and said, "Okay, let's go. But I prefer chess over Scrabble and Monopoly."

*****

Alyssa had always admired Cob Hill, the old, gentrified neighborhood where JL lived, but this was the first time she had ever stepped foot in one of the large, swell-front style row houses. She liked his eclectic mix of furniture, antiques in one room, modern in another. It had a big kitchen (the previous owners had knocked down a wall to expand it, he told her) and stainless-steel appliances. Hardwoods covered all flooring except for the small, cozy addition in the back; it had a brick floor and walls of exposed brick. A wood table stood in the middle and atop that sat the chess set he had mentioned. "Very nice," she said. "How long have you lived here?"

"Almost five years." He watched her pad around the living room, studying the books on his two bookshelves and the few paintings that hung on the off-white walls. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

She turned away from the wall and said, "Hot tea would be nice." She kept looking around while he fixed them both a cup of tea. She was feeling more relaxed, more trusting, enough to want to see the rest of the house.

When she asked, he slipped off his shoes on one of the two Oriental scatter rugs, placed the cups of tea by the chess set and led her upstairs to the master bedroom and the two guest bedrooms, one of which he used as an office. The two rooms on the third floor were empty, he explained. "Handy for renting out if I ever needed to."

She couldn't help but think of all the high Wonderlic scoring secretaries who must have shared his twin-sized bed in the master bedroom, neatly made and covered with a blue and yellow spread. If he was going to make a move, she thought, now would be the time and place to do it. Instead, he led her downstairs into his "alcove of a den," as he called it. She took a seat on one of the small chairs behind the white pieces. "My guests always make the first move," he said.

His grin tipped her off that he might have meant that as a double entendre. She smiled back, slipped off her high heels, then moved her king's pawn two squares forward to begin the game. "Oh no you don't," she chuckled a few moves later at his obvious attempt at what they called a fool's mate. "You must think I'm a novice." She easily countered it.

"No harm in trying," he said, then took a sip of tea.

She attacked, he defended. He attacked, she defended. Punch, counter-punch. Point, counter-point. The minutes passed. Then, nearly a half hour into the game, she saw something, a combination that would involve sacrificing her Queen-side bishop to gain position and checkmate a few moves later. That is, if he didn't see it. If he did, she'd be down a major piece and the game would probably be lost. What the hell, it's only a game, she thought. She went for the sacrifice, he took the bait and, after she checked his king a couple times, she mated him.

"Oh, man, you got me," he said, looking at the board, shaking his head. "Brilliant. How did you see that?"

She shrugged. "My gamble paid off. It could have gone the other way." She kept looking at him, waiting for him to make some lame excuse why he lost or even become pissed like so many guys that had lost to her.

Instead, he reached across the board and shook her hand. "Alyssa, you're one hell of a chess player. Guess I shouldn't be surprised given that you scored forty-one on the Wonderlic." He grinned ashamedly, as if he got caught in some lewd act. "Oh gawd, you're not supposed to know. It just came out."

She rolled her eyes at what she considered silly, if not petty. "Don't fret, JL, I'll keep it to myself." Then, in a mock conspirational whisper, she said, "It'll be our dirty little secret."

Ignoring her sarcasm, he said, "It's only because it might make the other girls jealous. Anyway, I'd like a rematch. But not tonight. That game drained me of brain energy. Will you give me one?"

"Of course. You gave me a challenging game." She meant it. She also knew she liked this guy, both for his distinguished good looks and, more important, for being secure enough in his manhood to lose graciously to a woman. A rare quality. She wanted to kiss him. Maybe she should make the first move. After all, she did play white, and white always went first in chess. She wondered where that might lead. She didn't want him to get the "wrong" idea, and then have to fight him off if he became aggressive.

When they both had their shoes back on, standing by the front door, preparing to leave, she didn't have to make the first move. He did. He took her by the hand, pulled her toward him and kissed her softly on the lips. Then he said, "It was fun being with you. I'd like to do it again sometime."

"For me, too, JL," she said. "I had a lovely time." Her only wish at that moment was that she wanted him to kiss her longer. Move, counter-move... Dropping her purse on the floor, she reached out to him. "Can we do that again, JL? This time with feeling."

She found him all too happy to oblige. Feeling is what she wanted and felt, and feeling is what he gave her for almost a full minute. She felt his passion and care, along with something else between his legs, plus the response of her own organ reacting the way it did when she got close to a man she liked—moist, hot and desirous. Pulling away and nearly panting, she said, "JL, if you don't take me home right now, I might not make it out of here until morning."

He tucked a finger under her chin, lifting it toward him. "Well, that's kind of what I was hoping. But, if you're not ready..."

She was ready, all right, and if her erogenous zones alone had any say, she'd be stark naked in his bedroom right about now. She wanted to all right. Her sense of propriety, however, gave her pause. Right now, this man, other than being her boss, was a guy she saw as potential for something more, and she wanted him to feel the same way, wanted him to see her as something more than just another winner of Sexy Secretaries Week. "It's not that I'm not ready, JL, it's that I don't want this to be some booty call, one of your one-night stands. If I sleep with you, I want it to mean more than that."

He kissed her lightly on the lips, then combed his fingers through her big blond hair. "This is no booty call, no one night gig either, nor am I feeding you a line. Long-term dating an employee of mine could get complicated. You know how catty those girls can be, the petty jealousies among your own colleagues and even among management. But I'm willing to risk that. I like you a lot, Alyssa. Besides that, I'm looking forward to that rematch. All that said, if you want me to take you home now, no problem. We can—″

"Do you have an extra toothbrush?"

JL kept his mouth hanging open for a few seconds. Then he got it, and flashed an excited, oh boy! kind of grin. "It's electric but I've got new refills. Condoms too if I need them."

"You won't, I'm covered." She moved in for another kiss. Then she kicked off her high heels and followed him upstairs to his bedroom. Turning her back to him, she said, "Care to unzip me?" He did, and then she slipped out of her dress. Standing there in blue lace bra and panties, she reached out and unsnapped his jeans. He did the rest, kicked off his socks and shoes, stepped out of the jeans, then threw off his shirt and undershirt, leaving only his white boxer shorts that hugged tight around his dark, muscular thighs.

"I'll play white this time," he said. "Pawn to king-four."