Sarah's Indiscretions

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking from the flight deck. As you will have been aware, we have been re-routed around Chicago, and are number five in the landing pattern. I apologize for the delay, but assure you that we will be arriving at O'Hare within the next thirty minutes. Please remain seated, and we'll....."

He tuned out the message's remaining words, and looked again at his watch. "Damn". This is a fine mess – late for his first damned meeting at the new company, and – in his position as Publisher – what kind of impression will that send to the rest of the troops....even the boss can't make it to strategy meetings on time. He knew, of course, that everybody suffered at the hands of the airlines; couldn't hold himself accountable, as the flight had been due to land over 40 minutes ago...but, nevertheless....

He looked out the left hand first-class window; this was one of the benefits of the new job. At least he could travel in comfort – and the Flight Attendant glanced his way as he swilled down the last of the Stoli-and-Seven in his glass – nodding, when he raised it again to her, for a refill. Chicago lay on their left, about ten miles, shrouded in some late summer mist, the horizon and the lake mere reflections of what they should be. He sipped his drink and pondered over these last weeks.

He'd been head-hunted by the Chairman of the, quite arguably, modest-sized publishing house specializing in Trade magazines to the computer industry, which had recently bought their latest acquisition - a California-based group - bringing in three technical monthlies which added to their portfolio quite nicely. The Chairman had done a reasonable deal, stretching payments for the buy-out over a two-year period, and retaining only the minimum of necessary staffing, bringing production into their home base of White Plains. His own hiring had been to achieve a streamlining of the portfolio's production systems. Editors for the new products were spread all around the USA – and using phones, faxes and e-mail, regularly sent in their reports and articles without having to appear at the head office.

The meeting that he was already late for, was destined to be the quarterly update, with everybody in position, and knowing who was who. Except he, as the new "head" was still at twenty-seven-thousand feet, and fuming. He pulled the air-phone from the headrest ahead of him, and sliding his credit card again through the system, punched in the buttons for the Chicago hotel where they were all staying, because in one of their meeting rooms, everybody would be waiting. Instructing the hotel's receptionist to pass along that he would still be another hour, he advised that they should start without him. At least he'd be there for the cocktail party this evening, before tomorrow's national trade show opening.

Cranking his seat back a little, he rested his head, and reflected back to leaving home this morning. Why had Jilly been such a bitch? Christ, he'd landed this new job a month ago, achieving a package deal that – even if they fired him today – he'd be set for a year. But it would mean that he'd be traveling some more, as they would still retain some of the crew in the Californian office, and he'd need to be there on a monthly basis, as well as Dallas on another group they'd acquired, and she'd already baulked at being left on her own. Yes, he'd not be happy chasing all over the States; he'd miss their child, but, well, they could work things out. Hell, he WAS the boss now! Once he'd really got his feet under the table, it should be a piece of cake!

But she didn't listen, having an inate fear of having to look after herself, and their new child, Jenny who was only three months old. He thought back suddenly. Christ, it must be at least eight months since they'd had sex! Even then he remembered, it had been a carefully orchestrated coupling, and frankly, he wondered why he'd bothered. She gave the impression that it was an accommodation, rather than the loving that it should have been. He closed his eyes; oh well, he'd been there before, and – well, at least the job was exciting!

After claiming his bags at the carousel, he managed to get outside in less than twenty minutes, and hoped that he would be able to get in at least some of the meeting, without too much disruption to the staff. The only thing that bugged him was that the Chief would be there, and he hated looking a fool! He gave the cabbie the hotel name, and lounged back into the Ford's vinyl seating.

Dumping his bags with the Bell-desk and checking in quickly, he asked for directions to the meeting room, where the rest of the crew were; he asked that his bags be sent to his room, and walked briskly down the hallway, glad to stretch his legs finally. A simple hand-lettered sign indicated that this was the room. Straightening his tie and standing up straight, he quietly entered the room to view a scenario that remained with him for days.

A long table had everybody in two long lines, possibly – at first glance – seven to each side, with Neil, the chairman, sitting at the far end. But it wasn't Neil that caught his attention, simply the gorgeous woman, standing, and in the middle of delivering her report. She stopped, turning towards him as Neil stood from the far end. "Ah, there you are – everything okay?"

He turned, at least, he TRIED, to turn away from the woman's steady gaze, a half-smile on her face as he then managed to kick against the door as he stumbled through it, banging his elbow against the strong shut-device of the door which caught him unprepared. He smiled rather forcefully, and concentrated on responding to Neil's enquiry. "Yes – er, thanks. I'm fine. Just that we've been sitting over Chicago for about an hour waiting for a slot..." He paused again, desperately trying to take in all the other people, some of whom he knew from White Plains, others who were strangers. Especially, this delicious sight in front of him. Tall, with dark red hair complemented by a stunning green jacket and white blouse tied at her throat, she was slightly hazy to him, the light shining in from the tall windows creating an overly bright background to her and forming a halo. He knew he was bumbling.

She glanced back at Neil, who indicated that she could sit, as he stood to come around to introduce him to the rest of the members, who sat expectantly. "Ladies, Gentlemen" said Neil, "This is the man I was telling you about." He approached and pulled Paul's left elbow, guiding him around to an empty chair that waited for him. As he did so, he introduced the team. Bill from head office, whom Paul had met a few times. Mary from Accounting; John from legal and so on, a blur to him, because he was holding his breath. He suddenly became aware that he hadn't said anything; hadn't exhaled; was almost dummy-like waiting to circle the table to meet her. Wherever he looked, she was in his peripheral vision, her jacket's color like some green beacon, drawing his eyes to her. And she sat, faintly smiling, almost aware – he could have sworn that she knew – that he couldn't get his eyes off her. God, she was beautiful!

Finally, he was there. Having gone clockwise around, she was almost the last to be introduced, and he couldn't have wanted it any other way. He tried to pull himself together; they were there!

"And this is Sarah. She's our circulation manager from L.A. – runs the tightest ship in our whole circulation department – almost a 97% validation on NuTech Products – up from a mere 58% three years ago. Does a helluva job...." He leaned into Paul but said loudly enough for all to hear "Just wished she'd move to White Plains...." – and left the line hanging, as Paul reached to shake her hand. She didn't rise from her chair, but now the lighting was in his favor, and she glowed in the strong noon-time sun filtering into the room. "Hi, pleased to meet you..." was all he could garble out, holding her hand just a shade too long. Yet, she didn't flinch, and held his hand firmly.

"The pleasure's mine" she said, cleanly and clearly, her English accent defining the words. Their eyes met – he could drown himself in the bright blue which reflected up at him – and then she broke away, looking downwards, as her notes slid off her lap to the floor.

Immediately, he was down, groping for them before she could even stop him. An embarrassing silence lingered – maybe six, maybe ten seconds – as he gathered the sheets of her reports together. All the while, she sat patiently as did Neil standing there, while Paul fumbled on the floor, finally stacking them by banging them on the thick carpeting, and stood to hand them back to her. Then Neil's grip moved him on to the remaining two people, whose names he immediately forgot as he walked on around the table again, to take his place.

"Right", said Neil. "now that we all know each other, I'd like Sarah to continue with her report. Perhaps you could start again my dear, so Paul can play catch-up?" She stood again, flicking through her notes, and adjusting one or two sheets to the correct order. Then she proceeded to describe the state of the circulation of their three new publications, and to enlarge upon the group's capabilities if budgets were expanded, and they were to implement new strategies, which she would like to present in a report, within the next two weeks.

Her voice was clear; her enunciation measured, not too slow to be boring, not too fast whereby they wouldn't be able to catch the inflections, and subtle differences of the English-English, as opposed to American-English. He was mesmerized, not taking in what she was saying, simply listening to the delivery. I wonder what she's like in bed, he thought. He couldn't help himself. She was tall, possibly five-eight, five-nine – but her heels put her at just under six feet, and her command of herself and her subject left him – what was that word? – Bedazzled!

He knew it, and immediately knew the danger signs.

His OWN danger signs.

He'd always had the credo, NEVER sleep with the staff....but already his mind was wandering....

The meeting broke up soon afterwards. It seems that most everybody else had given their reports of progress, and fortunately, Neil had had the foresight to have one of the girls taking notes in shorthand – she would provide Paul with a written report over the next couple of days of the show. Their booth was quite large in the convention center, and she would have access to her own laptop, to write up the synopsis for him. He was grateful to her, knowing that he could wait until they both got back to White Plains next week......

The crew stood around, chatting between themselves, while Neil did the rounds, speaking to each about their reports, offering advice or comments and his reactions. They were all professionals, and he was pleased that the meeting had gone well – especially the new girl, Sarah from California. Of course, he knew her background, her age and family status from the personnel reports he'd gathered from the company's president, when he'd bought the company out. He hadn't wanted to retain any staff, but had been persuaded that he really should keep Sarah and her assistant; the owner stating that they had been invaluable in the control of the circulation statistics which - in trade magazine of their types – was the very life blood of the publication. Now he was glad. She obviously knew her stuff, and – his sixty-one year old mind wandered – she was good eye-candy as well!

He suggested that they should all meet in the restaurant at eight; he'd already arranged the dinner, and – he said – he wanted everybody to relax. So, go get a massage, or have a nap. Dinner would be a leisurely time for them – he warned, that they should take advantage of it – because the next four days of the show were likely to be very busy!

The dinner took them through to around eleven that night. The food had been good, and the service quiet and efficient. Paul had taken it in turns to introduce himself to everybody, pointedly not making a bee-line for Sarah, despite the fact that he was aware of her presence, even – as the old song said – from 'across the room'. She had changed from the formal business suit, to a svelte cocktail dress that clung to her figure. As he moved around the room, chatting banalities quite often, she was always within his radar screen and he planned on meeting her as soon as was decently possible.

Some of the party drifted away, claiming their beds were calling; Neil promoted the idea that nobody should be too late for their – fortunately – ten a.m. opening, although some, including Sarah, would have to be there well beforehand, to ensure the booth was stocked and "ready to go". Making his excuses, he finally was able to get in front of her, again, offering his hand in greeting. Then she took his breath away.

"Hello". A pause, as she appraised him, looking directly into his eyes. "I thought you were actually avoiding me!"

This was the last thing that he'd expected, and he simply didn't know what to say. He stood there, mumbling something stupid, which she tagged immediately, and imperiously, but with that mischievous smile he would come to know and love – and always be intimidated by – she continued "Cat got your tongue?" She had tagged him, alright! Recovering, he smiled, searching for a reply.

"No. I was just saving the best to last! I'm always a one for delayed gratification." Their eyes met again, hers across her raised glass of Brandy & Benedictine, as she smiled.

"Well said, sir" she continued. "I'm glad to be the last on your list, although I think I should be a little insulted that you would delay so long." She looked at her watch. "It's almost my sleepy-sleep time, and ..." she paused...."I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to get to report to my boss tonight...." She left the phrase to hang in the air, and he then KNEW she was playing with him. He'd better watch it, as he'd never felt so intimidated as he did right now! He knew it. She knew it. She would claim later that it was the drink talking, she never really was THAT way...but for now, there was a game to be played!

He looked away, at his watch – mostly to give him some thinking time. 10:43pm. He glanced back at her as she finished her drink, tipping the brandy glass up and her head slightly back, which gave him an opportunity to study her long throat which inevitably led downwards to the hidden area of her cleavage and breasts under the silk dress. Possibly it was only microseconds, but she caught him looking, and he flushed, stammering, "Would you like a night-cap? Another drink, or coffee?

She too looked at her watch, a delicate gold band with the tiniest of faces. He'd never be able to read the damned thing, it was so small! "Umm, okay, just a small coffee, er, decaf – so that I won't stay awake all night...." Again, that mischievous smile flickered at the corners of her mouth. He took her arm, and guided her across the bar, and through to the coffee shop. The rest of the team was dispersing also, and Neil had disappeared long ago, so he felt slightly more comfortable that he could leave with her.

Seated, he started to relax for the first time as she sat opposite him in the booth. He asked her how long she'd worked for the magazine and, as he did so, fought to maintain eye contact, and really listen to her. It was damned difficult though, and he felt the stirrings in himself that was a precursor of other thoughts coming to the fore. As she talked, he watched her lips, the way they curled around words, how the corners turned up – or down – as illustration of her feelings to the sentences she was relaying to him. It was as if the conversation were in slow motion; he didn't listen to her yet nodded as he thought appropriate, but lasciviously, he wondered how she'd be, naked, and alone with him. Would she, could she be as sexual as her façade would seem to indicate. He saw the large wedding band and engagement ring on her left hand. Hmm. Wonder what the story is there, he pondered.

Almost an hour passed, as he made conversation with her, struggling through his distraction and they shared those initial confessions about life that one does when meeting strangers in an environment of comfort. Their marriages, children – she had two boys - job experiences and general chit-chat that people go through when meeting in this way. She knew the effect she had on him, a girlish chuckle deep in her throat being suppressed with great difficulty when his face would redden at her catching him "looking" at her. But he was attractive in a rugged way. Possibly his mouth was a little weak, but – and she reflected on one of her husband's raunchier sayings – she wouldn't throw him out of her bed......

Looking at her watch again, she stifled a yawn, noticeably putting her hand up to her face, as her eyes finally revealed her tiredness coming on. And, tomorrow would be a long, hard day. He saw her yawn and said "C'mon. It's time we took off. Tomorrow's going to be hell – I almost hate these trade shows...let's get some shuteye". And he signed the check with his room number, charging their coffees to the company. Reading the room number upside down, she realized that his was just down the hall to hers, although he didn't know that! She caught herself. Naughty, naughty. Hell, you've just met the guy, and he's your Boss! Ah well!

The Bar was almost empty as they moved through to the main reception area and the elevators to their rooms. He guided her gently, not pushing, or gripping too hard, more a gesture of friendship, but she was almost painfully aware of his presence. He would get traces of her perfume which heightened his sensitivity to her femaleness and on those lightest of touches, he could feel her through the silk dress the way she moved as she walked alongside him. Stepping into the elevator, she looked enquiringly at him – "Which floor?" knowing damn well which floor, but making him say "Sixth, please".

"Oh, that's mine too", she remarked – and then turned to smile at him. "Okay, which number?" – and held that slight smile around the corner of her mouth, that fascinated him.

"Er..." he fumbled in his pocket for the plastic key-card. "Oh damn, I've forgotten which room it is...um, it's......six, er, six-ten, I think!' He looked at her, having gone blank and then flicked the credit-card door key over, but no numbers were registered..."I'll have to go back to reception, and check it." God, what a fool! He really was annoyed with himself now. She must think him an idiot. Hell, he'd just signed automatically on the check for the coffees. What had he written?

"Why don't we call from my room; I'll get the number for you". And she led him along to her room – 616 – opening the door, and walking ahead of him, into the suite. Picking up the phone, she punched in reception's number, and waited. "Hi, good evening. Could you please give me the room number of Paul Morgan? Thanks." She paused. "Yes, he's a colleague of mine but got in late and I need to give him some documents." Again, a slight pause. "Okay, 610 – thanks again". She replaced the handset, and looked across to him, as he waited in the hallway of the suite. "You were right, when you signed the bill – it's six-ten..." Grinning slightly, she continued – "Can you find your way now..."She giggled slightly. "It's, er, two rooms down thattaways..." and she pointed with her hand roughly in the direction down the hall...

He smiled ruefully, knowing that she was playing with him. Okay! Two could play this, and he stepped forward to shake hands again, she automatically raising hers to his. He gently grasped it and bending forward, pulled it to his lips. "Bon Nuit, Madame. Sleep Well..." he paused "Is there anything you need before I leave, in order to sleep well?"