Five

Brian Tracy, a 6 foot male with slicked back hair and a slightly muscular build, walked out of the elevator. He stiffened down the tail of his black blazer as he strolled towards Charles McAllister's office. On his way, he wound his arms around a young woman delivering hard copy mails for the staff. 

"Did you miss me, Melanie?" he asked.

The girl giggled as he wove his hands around her dress, pulling, squeezing and lifting.

"Nuh uh, Mr Tracy." she replied playfully. "I didn't even notice you were gone."

"Well, now that there's a problem I have to fix." Tracy said heaving under his breath. But when he looked up to see a strange movement in Charles' office, something switched in his mind.

"For later." Tracy replied to Melanie. He sent the loquacious girl on her way and he knocked on the 6 foot wide double leaf door, and the wider leaf creaked open. 

A demure girl of about 25 held on to the handle, her face not really bright but had very decent black hair that rested on her shoulders. Her clothes seemed shabby, but her chest was bulging at all the right areas to make up for it. 

Tracy wondered if this girl was somehow related to Charles, but soon dismissed the thought. Charles didn't have relationships with his extended family.

"Sir. Are you here, for Mr McAllister?" she said squeaking.

No. Don't tell me. He didn't.

"As a matter of fact, I am. And who are you to ask me such a question?" Tracy barked.

"I - Sir" Joanne's heart dropped. Now that she thought about it, although the man didn't look that much older than herself, he dressed like a very important staff member. Will her job involve confronting people like this everyday? People that would take an ordinary question as an assault?

"Sir. Mr McAllister will not be in his office until 9:00PM. I'm afraid you will have to wait." Joanne stood her ground.

Brian Tracy pulled off his Prada sunglasses, and hung it on his white undershirt to glare at Joanne.

"One. That is Bullshit. That fucker gets here before 7 AM everyday, minimum. Idiot's a goddamn workaholic." he started.

"Two. That's not the question I asked you. Who-are-you?" he pointed at her.

"Tracy." Charles McAllister appeared in the office lobby. 

"Would you mind not pestering my employees?" he said.

Tracy smiled a little, and installed his sunglasses back on his face. "Pestering? Hardly. I didn't understand something, so I'm just asking a colleague. Collaborative effort, is it what they call it?" he said.

"How was Australia?" Charles asked.

"Profitable. Hopefully" Tracy answered.

"Let's talk in my office." Charles said, opening a door to his private tinted glass cubicle.

"Okay. Bye-bye for now, Employee" Tracy winked at Joanne and followed Charles into the cubicle.

*****

"That is interesting." said Tracy.

Charles and him were going over specifics of a mall construction on Sydney.

"What?" Charles snapped.

"I was waiting for this. I mean, I knew it would happen eventually, but I thought it would've at least taken you five years." Tracy replied.

"Still don't know what you're talking about" Charles started.

"I bet you don't. You know what? You've inspired me. I think I want a secretary of my own. Ahh, nothing beats the classic cliches. The old generation were definitely on to something" Tracy replied.

"You're talking about Joanne? She's not my secretary. There was a complication, we lost the Reeves Park bid. She's helping me to pay off that mistake. By the way, aren't you already banging the girl in the copy room?" Charles said looking over his computer.

"That's different. Me and Melanie have a strong connection."

"Better shut that down. If I hear it from anyone else, she's gone." Charles instructed.

"Right hand to God, I promise, you won't hear it from anyone again." Tracy said winking. "Did you say Reeves Park? I put in a lot of my old man's connections for that one. You better work this Joanne for all she's worth. If you catch my drift." Tracy winked again. Charles only grunted.

"But be honest. Was it the boobs? Hey, I don't blame ya." Tracy poked again. Charles turned his laptop to face him.

"That's the least of your problems. See this? It's too close to the overpass." Charles said.

"Shit!" Tracy exclaimed. Him and Charles spent the next few hours deciding what to do with Australia.

******

It was the evening, and everyone was winding down for the day. Tracy and Charles McAllister had locked themselves in for most of the day yelling over the phone and having online video conferences. Tracy left after a few hours, massaging his temple and grumbling under his breath. It looked like a couple of months had been drained out of his face. 

But that was not the prevalent thing on Joanne's mind. Mr McAllister had also come out behind Tracy, but instead went over to her desk and said. "Wait 30 minutes after 5." 

Her bosses were terrible, but Joanne felt she was finally attaining some sense of stability in her work life. She double checked, triple checked every correspondence, person, appointments and spoke in a very clear manner to avoid her colleagues misunderstanding her. Was it still not enough? The thought of failing and going to jail made her mind pound and her body sweat.

At exactly 30 minutes after 5, Joanne knocked. She was anxious and didn't even bother listening for a "Come In" before entering. McAllister clasped his hands, and took a very long look at her.

"You've been here 2 weeks. I wanted to discuss your expectations for this job." he finally said.

"Sir. Is there something wrong with my performance?" she asked 

McAllister waved his hand. 

"It is - Satisfactory " he said. "However "

McAllister got up from his chair, and Joanne could feel her brain firing a stream of neutrons down her spine. When he walked around his desk, approaching her body, which was faced to the door, the neuron stream in her brain turned to a loud vociferous river. What the hell was he trying to do?

Soon, her eyes were at level with his round biceps and his swollen chest lines that were visible through his blue collar shirt.

"I don't work with satisfactory." His voice was a deep husky tender. Joanne rubbed her wet thighs together.

"I'm doing my best, Sir." she exhaled in a slow breath.

"No. Your work is lukewarm. It has no purpose or vitality. You don't know what you want." He was so close now that his breath wafted on her forehead.

"What do I want?" she repeated.

"If you want to keep working here, you have to tell me your expectations. WHAT'-DO-YOU-WANT?" he stressed.

Joanne felt like she was high. Like her mind was drowning in a poisonous, thick liquid. She said in a small controlled voice

"I want you to fuck me."

"No. That is too short-sighted. Try again." he replied.

His statement jolted her to think of everything she had experienced until now. This job might be her last light to become actually competent at something, and regain confidence in her life.

She put out her hand to massage his cock bulging through his pants. 

"I want you to fuck me every time I do a good job." she said.

Charles pulled her closer to him, and whispered

"That is - Acceptable."