Strapped Page 9
When I check into my executive suite at the Corinthia Hotel, I slam the door behind me, kick off my shoes and jump on the bed like a five year old. Thank you Taylor. The room is warm yet modern and bigger than anything I have ever stayed in. The inviting bath looks like the perfect way to remedy jetlag. My cell, which now has an international plan, thanks to H.I., buzzes with a text.
Mr.Holden:
I hope you are enjoying your suite. It sounded like you were staying in tonight. I have ordered room service for you.
There he goes again ordering food for me. It’s likely because he is afraid I will order very sparingly on the company. He’s probably right. I laugh a bit to myself at the irony of the boss calling in dinner for his assistant. Sometimes he is so peculiar. I opt for a playful reply as I am in a giddy mood relaxing in the tub.
Shyla:
Why thank you Taylor. I can’t wait to see what you have chosen for me. Hopefully it’s delicious. I’m in the tub btw, so hopefully it doesn’t arrive too soon.
I wince as I send it. Am I crossing the line? I figure the tone can be interpreted in a number of ways and it’s up to him how he chooses to read into it. I lean my head back to relax in the tub. Another buzz.
Mr. Holden:
My pleasure. Soaking in the tub sounds like a good idea. Make sure you eat well. You are going to need the energy.
I read the text in his smoky voice. I have heard him say this to me before, and now, just like the first time, I feel like his words have a double meaning.
Shyla:
Are you talking about the meetings?
I hold my breath. How can he respond to that with anything other than a “yes” without being inappropriate? Another buzz.
Mr. Holden:
Meetings and activities. We have a lot ahead of us this week. Don’t worry about the tip, I have taken care of it.
There is a knock on the door. I put on a plush robe and let in the server. He rolls in a table full of dishes of various sizes covered with stainless steel domes. When the server leaves, I begin lifting the lids, each one feels like a little present. Champagne and strawberries, a plate of asparagus, such a curious shape asparagus has, chocolate truffles, chocolate dipped banana and chocolate covered cherries. The largest platter, I save for last. It is a huge steak, with a knife stuck in it and pinkish juices pooling around the meat. The carnal spread feels like a gastronomical form of foreplay. I have lost some weight due to my new busy schedule so I welcome the indulgence. The first bite of steak melts in my mouth and I let out a moan to express its deliciousness. I sample everything on the table; all the contrasting flavors explode in my mouth. The sweet and sour strawberries make me think of him that first morning, shirtless and sweaty, pursing his lips around the red fruit. The sweet bubbles of the champagne tickle my throat. It’s not long before I am full, and I sit there with a smile on my face, beyond satisfied.
Shyla:
The food was amazing, but you can’t keep feeding me like this, or I will get fat.
Mr.Holden:
I’m not worried about that Shy.
Only one person in my life ever called me Shy, and that was my father, or so I was told. I let that name die with him. I snuggle into my plush five star bed, and fall into a deep slumber, my belly pleasantly full.
Chapter Eight
We spend the morning and early afternoon in very intense meetings and I am relieved when we are able to get back to the hotel. From what I can tell, we did very well, but the extreme formality of business at this level makes me uneasy. I much prefer the development process. I will leave the boardroom presentations to the likes of Henry, who seems to thrive in front of a room full of emotionless faces.
I enter my suite, kick off my shoes and fall back on the bed, taking a big sigh. As soon as I let the air out of my lungs, I hear a text alert.
Mr. Holden:
Meeting in my suite in 10 minutes
So much for taking a break. I gather my things to go to Taylor’s suite. There’s nothing productive I can do in the next 10 minutes, so I head over there right away. Taylor’s room is just down the hall from mine. I gently knock on the door and I hear Taylor’s voice faintly in the distance. He cracks the door open and smiles warmly.
“Hey Shy, I didn’t expect you for another ten minutes,” he says as he opens the door for me to enter. He called me Shy again. This morning Taylor and I were in full-on business mode and didn’t have any time for small talk, so I feel like this is the first time I am seeing him today.
“Oh sorry, I was ready to go, so I just thought I would come on over.” I notice his white shirt is halfway unbuttoned revealing his undershirt. Clearly, he was trying to change before the meeting. How inconsiderate of me. “ I didn’t mean to disturb you. I can come back in ten minutes, I’m just down the hall.”
“No, no. It’s fine. I was just changing my shirt. Come in.” As he says this I eye his colossal suite. I thought mine was amazing. His has several large rooms, one of which he has set up as a meeting room. When my eyes come back to him he is in the midst of removing his shirt. Underneath he is wearing a white, short-sleeved cotton undershirt. I think his body was made for T-shirts. “I’ll be right back.” He vanishes into what I assume is the bedroom. While he is in there, there is another knock on the door. I let in Henry, who gives me a big high-five. He is clearly very pleased with his presentation.
“Did we nail it or what?” We did? I only saw a bunch of Russian men stoically watching Henry speak. Maybe the fact that they didn’t curse at us or attack us is supposed to mean they loved us. Taylor comes out of the room still wearing his white T and a pair of flat front khakis that fit perfectly over his slim hips. He pours three glasses of what I believe is whisky and hands them out.
“I just wanted to let you both know that I think you did an excellent job today. While nothing is official, they were very pleased with our proposal. I know how much time and effort went into this. All I ask is that you give me your best effort and I believe you have. We should know for sure by the time we get back to the US whether or not we have been chosen. The gala is where we can seal the deal by going the extra mile. All the decision makers will be there and we want to appeal to them on a more intimate level. Tomorrow, the tables will turn and we will be courted as they seek foreign investment into newly privatized sectors. If we play our cards right, they will sign onto the fiber optics deal to attract our further investment into the country. This is all ours to fuck up. Let’s finish what we started today. Salud!” We are all smiles during the toast. So far, I have mostly seen the stoic, plow through H.I. headquarters type of boss. This is my first official Taylor Holden pep talk. I presume he reserves this for his very small inner circle that I am now a part of.
“Alright, before we head to bed very early like good little workers...” he very purposefully looks over in Henry’s direction as he says this, “let’s look over some final facts and figures. The people we interact with tomorrow will be the very same people who can influence a deal worth hundreds of millions to H.I.” I guess the toast was just meant to make looking at charts, graphs, numbers, numbers and more numbers seem less grueling.
Day two consists of touring factories and sitting in boardrooms negotiating the purchases of stock into various sectors of newly privatized industries. There is s a lot of negotiating and usage of terms way above my paygrade. Quite frankly, my main responsibility was to keep track of our tight schedule and make sure things ran as smoothly as possible for Taylor. This workday was much longer than the previous one and we do not return to the hotel until about 5:30pm. I feel completely spent and plan to go to bed early. As I am toweling off after a hot shower, I hear a text come through on my cellphone.
Henry:
The hardest part is done! Want to go clubbing tonight?
I feel really lame because I want nothing more than to cozy up to my bed and watch a movie rental, but part of me is curious to see if Taylor is going. I would love to see him hang out with Henry, who I fig
ure at this point might be his best friend. I am also curious to see how he copes with his rules and rituals in a real-world setting like a club. I am sure women try to dance with him and touch him all the time. Then I have a little sinister thought: Clubwear and workwear are two different animals. I would love to see his eyes if I appeared with full makeup, hair and a tight little number. His eyes won’t lie and I just want to know if he thinks I am attractive.
Shyla:
Who’s all going?
Henry:
Me, Taylor, Lizzy, and you if you say yes.
Shyla:
Ok, I’m in. I’ll see you later.
Lizzy is a blast. She is brilliant, witty, and we clicked when we meet just a week before she left to Russia ahead of us. Lizzy is H.I.’s “French-Canadian Import,” as she likes to call herself, and is the VP of international sales who masterminded this entire fiber optics bid. She is older than Taylor, but has such an incredibly youthful energy about her. Her attendance excites me as I want her opinion while I play dress up tonight.
I take a nap otherwise I will not make it past ten o’clock. It’s about nine thirty when Lizzy knocks on my door. She looks great, her short blonde hair is slicked back; she is sporting dark eye makeup and a glittery silver mini dress.
“Hey you! Ready to paaartay?”
“I am sure you are ready seeing you are probably going to make a ridiculously sick bonus from all of this if the deal goes through. You have to help me choose an outfit.”
“Oh it will, and that means drinks are on me tonight as you were all instrumental in making this happen.”
“That’s if Taylor lets you.”
“I won’t take no for an answer.” She is already rummaging through my clothes. “Oooooh, how about this!” She pulls out a red mini tank dress with a low scoop back made from a fabulous slinky material. It was packed in a moment of just-in-case-we-do-something-that-requires-a-slutty-outfit inspiration and I had totally forgotten about it.
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s really short and tight and I work with these guys for Christ’s sake.”
“We’re off duty and you will soon learn that we are all like family. Taylor won’t care, trust me. Do it!” She is so persuasive, and she loves to have a partner in crime. I have learned this much in the short time that I have known her.
“Okay! Okay!” I say as I snatch the dress out of her hand. I use the makeup Taylor bought for me just two weeks ago. I go with smoky eyes and red lipstick to match the dress. I put on a pair of sky-high black Louboutin strappy sandals selected by Mona that I haven’t had the guts or the pain tolerance to wear. I leave my bangs out and braid the rest of my hair into a fishtail braid that lays over my right shoulder, showing off my exposed back.
“Shy-la!” Lizzy exclaims this as I walk out of the bedroom. “You look ridiculously smoking! I mean you are always adorable, but this is stupefyingly sexy!” This girl knows how to flatter.
“I don’t know, I think it might be too much.”
“It’s not! Plus there’s no time, the guys are already waiting downstairs.” She hands me my purse and cell phone as if not to allow a second thought to cross my mind.
As we walk out the hotel lobby, I see Taylor on his cell phone while pacing back and forth outside of the SUV that has been shuttling us all over St. Petersburg.
“Taylor!” Lizzy calls out as we walk towards the car. I suddenly feel really shy and wish for a giant sweater. His eyes quickly dart from Lizzy to me. He doesn’t say anything, his expression is unreadable. Although, I do swear I see his eyes widen for a millisecond. His reception is much colder than what I expected. Lizzy slides into the car. Taylor says nothing as he signals for me to get in behind her. I knew this was a bad idea.
“Shyla, holy shit!” I am really beginning to regret this outfit. It seems to be getting attention from the wrong guy. I wonder if Henry ever worries about sexual harassment lawsuits. Taylor is quieter than normal, which means he is completely silent. Henry pops a bottle of Cristal in the car and while we all take glasses, Taylor barely takes a sip. I, on the other hand, decide that alcohol will be the only way to become comfortable in my own skin so I guzzle down a couple of glasses before we even arrive at the club. It doesn’t take many drinks for me to feel the effects of the alcohol as warmth and giddiness oozes over me. We are immediately escorted past the lines when we arrive to the club and I remember what Taylor had asked me just days before. Without hesitation, and thanks to the alcohol I just consumed, I grab Taylor’s hand and practically pull him into the club. He looks stunned, but doesn’t make any remark. “I figure this could be practice for the gala!” I shout over the crowd. He lets the faintest smirk creep through. I wonder if he is anxious, but I don’t want to bring up the subject. Anonymity may be in his favor. No one is trying to talk to him, or shake his hand, although I do notice several women and a guy eye him lustfully.
We are seated at a VIP section where bottles on ice are already waiting for us. I go into autopilot, intercepting drinks for him is becoming second nature. About an hour into our time at the club, I am officially drunk. This means I am much more loose and playful than my usual self. Lizzy pulls me up off of the couch to dance and I oblige. She drags me onto the dance floor where there is an endless ocean of bodies. It’s so loud I can barely make out a word she is saying to me, but I can tell she is completely hammered too. I lost track of Henry a while ago, but then I spot him dancing very closely with a leggy Russian girl. Oh Henry! When I turn my attention back to Lizzy, she is gone. I can’t find her at all. Now that I have to navigate my surroundings on my own, it dawns on me how drunk I really am. If not for the fact that I am completely surrounded by people, I would barely be able to walk straight.
I feel someone take me by the arm and pull me close. He starts to sway his hips and I follow. He is very young looking, maybe 21 years old. He has blond hair, blue eyes, and is boyishly handsome. I figure if I just stay put and dance with him, that Lizzy will come back. Five minutes pass and no sign of Lizzy. I begin to feel dizzy and sick and I don’t know what else to do other than pull away from this guy and try to find my way back to the VIP section. I start to work my way through the crowd, and what earlier felt like a fun, bouncy group of people, now feels like an aggressive mob, bumping, elbowing, and shoving me around. I just want to get back to Taylor. His firm presence is such an anchor. I finally pull away from the dance floor and find myself in a dark hallway that houses the bathrooms. As I turn around to get my bearings, I see the young man I was dancing with is just behind me. I look down the hallway and see couple after couple passionately making out. I realize this guy might be getting the wrong idea. Propping my hand up against the wall is my only defense from falling over. These damned heels are making walking without support a near impossibility. The stranger leans his body against mine and I feel him kissing against my neck. I try to push him off, but he just leans harder against me. Then I feel his hardness against my pelvis. While I begin to panic internally, my movements and gestures feel so slow. I look around to see if anyone notices this guy forcing himself on me, but no one is paying attention. I feel his cold, clammy hand on the exposed skin of my mid back and it sets a course of adrenaline through me that allows me to give him one good shove. Then I hear what I believe are two men shouting in Russian, I feel someone grab my arm, which makes me panic even more. “Shy! It’s me Shy! We are leaving now.” Great. Even though I know I am in trouble, his presence automatically grounds me and I know that everything is okay now. I am safe.
With his arm around my waist, he practically carries me to the SUV. His hand on my bare back excites me. Once I am able to get a good look at this face I see he looks none too pleased. He makes a call.
“Henry? Can you hear me? We are going back to my room, Shy is fucking wasted and she nearly got herself into some trouble. Where is Lizzy? They were supposed to stick together!”
“I’m sorry.” I sound drunk. “Is Lizzy in trouble? It wasn’t her fault. We got separated.”
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br /> “No, Shy, no one is in trouble. We’re all adults here. But you could have been in big trouble. Do you realize you are an attractive foreigner who sticks out like a sore thumb? You are clearly a tourist and dressed like that, you cannot get so drunk that you lose your wits.”
“Dressed like this?” I ask, feeling a bit attacked.
“I didn’t mean it like that. You look great, that’s my point. I just knew when you stepped out tonight I was going to have to spend the night fending off guys, but I didn’t realize it would be that bad.”
“I didn’t mean to ruin the night. I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t ruin my night. I am just a little freaked out by what I just saw. Do you have any idea what could have happened?” I bow my head in shame, feeling like a reprimanded child. At the same time, he is showing a level of concern for me I didn’t know he was capable of. He looks so pouty gazing out of the window. I want to kiss him so badly, but even though I am drunk, I am still rational enough to know that would be incredibly stupid. I wonder if tonight’s festivities have crossed some other work relationship boundary. It’s not everyday your boss saves you from a potential sexual predator when you are too drunk to save yourself.