The Contractor and the Chairman

Brie was riveted.

"And the reporter was all like, 'Yeah, so? What do you have to say now?' And Jerome says, "speak into the flower, Marcus Taylor.'"

Ellen burst out laughing.

Brie frowned. She didn't get it. "Speak into the flower?" she asked.

Leslie was laughing too. "It's a movie reference," she said. "I don't know the movie, but apparently there's this old movie where a spy has a microphone hidden in the flower in his lapel, and whatever someone says is recorded."

Brie still wasn't sure she understood. Leslie explained, "See, Marcus had grabbed Jerome out in the hallway before he was supposed to do his keynote this morning," she said. "Jerome was already mic'd up, and the ballroom was completely full of people, including all the other reporters. He turned on his microphone and everything that Marcus said was broadcast over the ballroom speakers. Everyone heard what he said. His career is over."

"Oh," Brie said. "Oh!"

"The shit is really going to hit the fan for that guy tomorrow," Leslie said. "I bet there will be at least half a dozen articles on 'ethics in journalism' after what he did."

Brie shook her head in disbelief. "What an asshole."

Ellen burst out laughing again. "And that's why Jerome is where he is," she said, admiration in her voice. "Cool as a cucumber."

"Did Jerome throw out this reporter guy?" Brie asked.

"He didn't have to," Ellen said. "Once that guy realized that everyone had heard him try to blackmail Jerome, he just left."

"I think he left skid marks," Leslie said.

"Yeah, probably in his underwear!" Ellen piled on. The two of them howled in laughter again.

Brie looked at her drink. "Yeah," Ellen said. "That's one man you definitely don't want to mess with."

"But he's such a sweetie," Brie protested.

"Oh he is," Ellen agreed. "But don't let that friendly exterior fool you. When it comes to this Chairman thing, he is totally no-nonsense."

Brie swallowed the remainder of the tequila and instantly felt the reaction. She went straight to a paranoid buzz. She knew that she shouldn't have any more, but she couldn't help herself. "I need a refill," she said.

"Hey doll," Ellen said, "Get me one of those too, please."

Brie felt unsteady on her feet as she approached the bar and second guessed whether she should really have another one. Dutifully she poured Ellen three fingers of tequila, but decided not to get herself any. Not yet, anyway. She thought about Jerome and what Ellen had said. You definitely don't want to mess with him.

She brought Ellen the tequila and then sat down next to Leslie. "Thanks, hon," Ellen said. Noticing that Brie didn't have anything, she asked, "Not getting yourself one?"

Brie shook her head. "Yeah, I'm not sure what I want right now," she said.

The door to the suite opened and about a dozen people entered. The meetings had apparently ended and suddenly the room was at capacity in a heartbeat. Brie looked up and held her breath. She was torn into two equal parts - one that hoped that Jerome wasn't among the crowd, and one that hoped that he was. Maybe if he was there she could redeem herself from her prior behavior. Maybe if he wasn't, he would simply forget about it.

She craned her neck and looked, but didn't see him. She felt equally relieved and disappointed.

"Leon!" Ellen cried, and then jumped up to give him a hug. Even though she was not a small woman, she looked minuscule compared to the much larger man's frame.

"Ellen!" Leon cried back in good-natured imitation of her voice.

The suite was now packed. People were maneuvering to get drinks, food, and to find somewhere to stand and talk or, if they were lucky, find an open seat. Brie sat back down, unwilling to lose her precious place on the sofa.

Someone she didn't recognize tried to sit next to her, precariously holding a drink and a small plate of food. "Oh, sorry!" Brie said without thinking. "That seat's taken."

The guy apologized and moved away. She wasn't sure what made her say that - she wasn't even sure if Jerome was going to be coming to the suite. There was a small voice in the back of her head that recited, just in case.

As if on cue, she heard someone mention Jerome's name. She couldn't see through the crowd though, especially from her seated position. After a few moments, she didn't hear anything else. Maybe they were just talking about him. Maybe she was just imagining things.

In that moment she realized how disappointed she was. She wasn't exactly sure why, but she felt like she needed to apologize to Jerome for being so casual with him the night before. After the way Ellen and Leslie were talking about him, the weight of her faux pas started to settle on her shoulders. Did she really make a joke about her "box" to the Chairman of a multi-million dollar organization?

Her memories were fuzzy. She remembered flirting with him, but she couldn't recall exactly what she had talked about. Everything seemed so... wavy in her mind. She was attracted to him, sure. Men in power always have an aura about them that make them attractive. But she had meant it to be harmless. That's why she told him about Andrew, and -

Oh my god, she thought. She told him about Andrew! Why would he care about her totally fucked up marriage? What must he have thought? Who is this chick and what the hell is she talking about?

"Hey Jerome," Leslie called, waving. The sound of his name carved into her thoughts and brought her into the moment. Brie followed her gaze to where she was looking to see Jerome standing in the entrance.

Before she knew what she was doing, she called after him as well. "Jerome!" she said. Subconsciously she scooted to the left, indicating an open seat for him. He smiled and waved, but before he could take a step someone caught his attention and began speaking to him.

Brie always prided herself on being able to read people. That she was often wrong never sabotaged her confidence in her conclusions. She was just more vocal about those conclusions after alcohol. She tried to read the expressions that were on his face through the sea of people. One thing was certain: he looked tired. Not just the kind of tired for having worked fourteen straight hours, but a kind of tired that came from shouldering the responsibility of multi-millions of dollars and tens of thousands of people.

She was in awe of his ability to keep his sense of humor and to look at him you'd never know he was in that position. "Down to earth," was an overused expression, but it fit Jerome perfectly. He listened attentively to the person who apparently was upset about something. Shop talk.

Jerome was nodding his head to whatever the guy was saying, but she was convinced he would rather be anywhere else. Sure enough, his body language soon indicated that the conversation was over, but the other guy didn't want to take the hint.

She saw a forced smile on his face as he gave another non-verbal cue that the discussion was over. It struck her with some familiarity. Where had she seen that before?

Another Board member saved him by coming over to the complainer and grabbing his attention. The two of them headed over to the bar, leaving Jerome alone once more. The crowd shifted and he disappeared from view.

Brie tried to figure out why the look on his face felt so familiar. Then it struck her. He had looked like that when he left the previous evening. He had thought she'd overstayed her welcome.

Don't mess with Jerome.

She swallowed, and craned her neck again to see where he was. Now she was convinced she needed to apologize to him. She had overstepped her bounds, and crossed his boundaries. Worry began to consume her.

Where was he? Why were these people so damned tall?

"Hey, where did Jerome go?" Brie asked Ellen, trying to sound nonchalant.

Ellen looked around, then shrugged. It wasn't her turn to babysit. Brie resumed looking, but didn't want to risk losing the spot on the sofa.

Eventually people moved enough so that she could see the place where Jerome had been standing. He wasn't there. She scouted the area by the bar. He wasn't there either. People were moving and it was hard to see. Eventually she came to the realization of the truth. He had left.

She didn't have any more time. The conference was over. All that was left was the Board meeting the following day. Her flight was leaving early in the morning so she wouldn't get the chance to talk to him again. What was she supposed to do? Email? Phone call? That didn't feel right.

A pit started growing in her stomach. Her contract was going to come up for renewal soon. Did she screw up her chances? In this town, event coordinators were a dime a dozen and they could replace her in a heartbeat. She liked this gig. These were great people. Fuck!

Wait a minute. She was the event coordinator. She had a list of the room block and where everyone was staying at the hotel. It was part of her job. She whipped out her phone and called up the spreadsheet. Sure enough, there was his name. Room 705.

She excused herself and stood up. It took a frustratingly long time to maneuver her way through the crowd and leave. The hallway was eerily silent compared to the commotion of the suite, and emphasized her own thoughts and paranoia.

She hit the elevator button to go to the seventh floor. What was she going to say? She wasn't as drunk as last night, which was a good thing. It helped her think a little better to not be slobbering all over herself. She had downed that tequila pretty damn fast, though, and could feel the start of the buzz and its effects on her libido.

Crap. Yes, the alcohol had made her horny as well, which was probably why she was flirting with Jerome in the first place the previous night.

A little bit of alcohol made her horny. A lot of alcohol made her talk about how horny she was. That had gotten her into trouble in college for sure. Now, twenty years after her sorority days, some things didn't change, though this was a lot worse than "getting a reputation" in school.

Before she knew it she was standing in front of room 705. It was now or never. Then a thought struck her. What if he changed rooms and her sheet wasn't updated? It was after ten o'clock. She could be waking up some other poor attendee. How would she explain that?

Her mouth was dry. She tried to swallow but found it difficult. Time to do this.

She rapped on the door before she could think herself out of it. There was nothing for a long moment, and her nerves began to fray. The door opened, and Jerome looked at her. He said nothing.

"I-" Brie began, but was completely at a loss for words for once. She was looking at him in a completely different way. He wasn't just some guy who was attending the conference. He wasn't even just a Board member. He was the fucking Chairman.

Last night, he had just been one of the attendees. Ordinary. Nothing special. Someone she could joke with, flirt with. Now, though, he felt larger than life, and she felt so incredibly small. A nobody. She had a flashback going back decades, a memory of being sent to the principal's office and standing in judgment. She was no peer of his. How could she have forgotten that?

It was how he held himself. Subtle nuances of his shoulders. His stance. His look. She was looking at him in a completely different way now. He was so controlled and comfortable in his confidence. He had nothing to lose. She wanted very much to gain his approval. Behind his kind eyes there was a palpable expression of authority. She didn't feel judged so much as feel "evaluated."

That was how he was looking at her now. He obviously wasn't expecting anyone. He had taken off his sport coat and was now dressed in his plain white button-down Oxford dress shirt and black trousers. He had already taken off his shoes and socks. It seemed strange to see his bare feet.

Jerome tilted his head a little, as if trying to make a determination. It was a calculating look, as if he were running through several different possibilities. Finally, he nodded slightly, an almost imperceptible acknowledgment of coming to a decision. He opened the door wide and stood to the side to allow Brie to enter.

She came through the door and took a few steps into the room so that he could close the door behind her. He passed her and entered the room and went to the long counter that doubled as a desk. He began to unbutton the cuffs on his shirt.

"I-" Brie restarted, but then stopped again. She still had no idea what she wanted to say.

He said nothing, but indicated the bed. Brie took in her surroundings. It was the only place to sit. Hotel rooms are utilitarian by design. This one had a single king-size bed, with two end tables built into the wall on either side. Electric plugs were occupied by chargers and cables that awaited their devices. The sole chair in the room was covered in clothes that Brie recognized from earlier in the week, and on top of them was his backpack. It was open and the contents were visible. Offering the bed was simply being polite.

Walking into someone else's hotel room is a strange experience. In some ways, it's more intimate than walking into their house. At least in their house you know that there are places that are off-limits; private areas that are unwelcome from prying eyes. In a hotel room, though, you'll see items that are typically kept away from visiting eyes. Laundry. Toiletries. An open suitcase with clothes neatly folded that await the travel day where they will be pulled out and worn. All of these things are usually tucked away in drawers or in private bathrooms.

Suddenly, Brie realized that the room was probably too small for a Chairman. He should have his own suite. Hell, even she had a suite that was bigger than this. It embarrassed her and made her feel like she hadn't done her job. It was just one more thing to add to the growing list of her feelings of inadequacy.

"I didn't realize you had gotten a standard room," she said.

He glanced around and shrugged. "It's all I need," he said.

"I'll make sure you get a suite next time," she said. Please let there be a next time.

He shrugged again. "I'm only in here to sleep," he said amiably. "As long as I can do that, I'm happy."

He was unlike the other people she had to work with. These organizations are filled with over-entitled assholes. More often than not, the chairs - both men and women, it didn't really make a difference - were the worst of the lot. Actually, no, scratch that. The Vice-Chairs were the worst. Not quite the responsibility of Chair but even more of the attitude. Jerome's vice-chair was a prime example of this. Now that woman was a bitch-and-a-half.

Maybe that's why she had felt so comfortable with Jerome. He just didn't act like any of the other people in similar positions. He just seemed like "a guy." A guy you could have a beer with. A guy you could hang out with. A guy you could flirt with.

With a sudden realization, Brie realized that this was the first time they had ever been together in private. Hell, it was the first time that they'd spoken in private. Not even on the phone. What's more, with the exception of the previous night, they had never spoken about anything other than work and conference issues. She felt completely out of her element.

"Do you mind?" Jerome asked, breaking into her thoughts.

"Hmmm?" Brie asked.

He was holding out his right arm to her. "I'm afraid I don't have the dexterity with my left hand to do this." He indicated the cuff.

"Oh! Sure," Brie said, and helped release the button.

He smiled. "Thanks," he said, opening up the cuff around his wrist. "It probably would have taken me a good ten minutes to get that off by myself."

How long does it take you to get off normally? The thought came unbidden, and Brie couldn't believe she actually thought it. Damn alcohol. Damn horniness. Damn... cologne? Was Jerome wearing cologne? She realized that with all the people in the suite, it would have been impossible for her to distinguish who was wearing what. Here in his room, though, where he put on the cologne in the morning, she could sense it. No wonder her thoughts were turning towards flirtation.

She came back to reality with a slight start. Jerome was looking at her, waiting for her to speak. He had this aura of authority, of control and confidence. He was calm and ordered.

And he was undressing.

He had only gotten as far as his shoes, socks, jacket, and now his cuffs, but Brie realized she was watching him prepare for bed. Well, duh! That usually involved getting undressed. He didn't seem bothered by her presence, though.

He turned and leaned against the counter and put his hands in his pockets. He waited, expectantly.

"I just wanted to, uh," Brie began, but wasn't sure where to go from there. "I mean, last night..."

Jerome's face relaxed into a half-smile. "Ah, yes," he said. "I think I understand."

Brie was confused. "You do?"

"Yes, and you should know that it's perfectly fine."

"It is?"

Jerome nodded. "Move back onto the center of the bed," he said.

Brie blinked. Whodawhatnow?

His voice was calm, friendly even. But also firm. He could have been discussing event attendance for as casual as he was. His tone was authoritative, however, and she didn't just feel compelled to comply, she wanted to do it.

She scooted herself back to the center of the bed. The California King sized bed was huge, and she felt like a tiny spec on the massive white bedspread. She rested there, bringing her legs up under her and looked at Jerome, confused but also curious.

Jerome walked over to the windows and pulled them wide open. The night was clear with a few clouds that showed up in relief against the full moon. The light cascaded through the mountains in the distance. From this view, it looked like they were on top of the world.

"See, I don't mind this room at all," he said. He turned back to face Brie and gave her a pointed gaze from head to toe and back again. "I love the view."

Brie nearly gasped. Was he... was he flirting with her?

He came back over to the opposite side of the bed, standing next to where she was sitting. He looked at her, then looked over her head out the window.

"Come here," he said.

She found herself moving automatically. She was on her hands and knees now, trying to move across the bed. When she was almost to the edge, he told her to stop.

"Keep your hands on the bed," he said. "Don't pick them up."

What? Brie was thoroughly confused. All of a sudden her hands felt like lead. He had told her not to move her hands, and now her hands didn't want to move. She was acutely aware of the position she was in. She shuddered with nervousness and excitement - and yes, arousal - as she took stock of her situation.

He was standing in front of her. He was about six feet tall, almost a full foot taller than she was, so her eyes were just above his waist level. Her mouth which had been so dry before, suddenly began to water. She remembered this position from her sorority days.

I'm close enough that I could suck him off right now, she thought. He could whip out his cock and I'd suck him. Immediately she regretted the thought. Now that she saw him in a new light, the correct light, she was embarrassed.

His hands came in front of him to rest on his belt buckle. Wait. They weren't resting. They were moving. He was unthreading the belt through the loops.

Oh my god! Brie thought. He's not... is he...? What's going on? He's not going to really... is he?

She licked her lips.