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The Brass Statuettes Ch. 01

By: AutumnWriter



Author's note: "The Brass Statuettes" is a sequel to a short story that I wrote some time ago, "The Saga of Trudy and Frank". You can read and enjoy this story without having read the forerunner. If you do you'll understand this one much better.

************* 

Prologue

man reaches out, grasping the final, sharp-cornered stone with bleeding hands and fingers. Exhausted, urging forth his last reserve of strength, willing himself up and over the final obstacle, he pulls his weary legs under him, thrusts up the aching body, pressing skyward. A hot, dry wind stings across his face—he does not care. He surveys what he has conquered: the view of the ground below, the spent bodies of competitors, impaled on lower tiers along the way, and those few sharing the view with him. He has struggled to the top of the pyramid, realizing his dreams and promise. 

He is exhilarated, yet a little bit self-conscious. As he can see all from his lofty perch, so too, can he be observed. He straightens himself, adjusting his appearance in every way, for whatever is seen says something of him. All must know why he has risen so high and why they should wish to be like him. That applies to his possessions. House, car, clothing, golf clubs, and desk spell out the details of his tastes, his standards, his desires. 

His wife is his most important possession. He is the Alpha Male; they are the Alpha Pair. She must be beautiful, young and nubile. Of course, she will be intelligent and cultured. Above all, she is discreet, if not loyal. She runs in the pack with the other wives, blending in and at the same time standing out in accordance with the status of her mate. She is decorator and decoration. It is her duty to do what she must to defy time, age and over-indulgence. In return, she is granted security, luxury and a curious power. 

There are such women nearby every boardroom and headquarters. They seek out, and are sought. Adorned with diplomas in Art History and French Literature; denizens of spas, salons and private gyms; they are perfect hostesses and skillful guests. They share their men's beds and secrets. They share their fortunes, too—and are well-versed in the proper use of money for pleasure and power. They are the Trophy Wives—Brass Statuettes on a walnut base. 

pter 1—Watering the Garden

Juana Hernandez stood in the hallway, not far from the French doors that opened to the veranda. Although the summer afternoon was a hot one, she wore her grey, cotton maid's shift with the black trim and white buttons. She was a professional—never lowering her standards for anyone or any reason. The hot, Texas afternoon sun was reality, and her maid's attire was part of her standards. The Señora of the house was on the veranda with her friends. From her position in the hallway Juana was able to hear her mistress' summons without eavesdropping. 

She looked out a spotless pane. Her husband, José, worked in the garden. She wondered if the hot sun was too much for him. He bent to his work in the garden under his wide-brimmed straw hat. He kept his pace constant, neither allowing the heat to dog him, nor hurrying to complete his work more quickly to avoid exposure. His copper skin was cracked and leathered from decades of afternoons toiling in the Texas sun. Juana and José had served the house for nearly thirty years. They lived in a small cottage on the edge of the grounds. To some, it may have seemed like a humble existence. To them it was their place in the world, sus puestos.

The house had changed hands a number of times in the three decades of their service. The new owners always chose to ask Juana and José to stay on after the change of title. It was a large house with spacious rolling grounds in the Texas style. Each family taking up residence in the palace was a little different—but the same in the important ways. They were always members of the corporate aristocracy—in chemicals or oil, or perhaps banking. Juana and José served the house, not the owners. Their obedience to them was just a part of their duties to the house. 

Juana chose not to get to know the residents too well. They were, after all, just one in a line of succession. When they left there would be a new family and the house would still remain. By not knowing them she could avoid both judging and forgiving them. Wealth was always accompanied by more vice than virtue. It was a discipline instilled in her long ago. The younger maids, who came in from the city part time to assist her, didn't quite understand the rule. They gossiped and giggled in their group until Juana heard them. She chastised them in Spanish, so that the mistress could not understand, and the young girls would go back to their cleaning and polishing.

"Juana! Bring some more iced tea." She heard her mistress' command, louder than was necessary. That had to mean that the hot, afternoon sun, coupled with the iced tea laced with vodka, were having the predictable effects on her mistress and her friends.

"Si, Señora Warner," she yelled back with a sigh, rolling her eyes. Juana knew immediately that she had erred in allowing the inflection in her voice to betray her attitude.

"Bring more mint leaves, too," she heard the Señora call after her as she turned for the kitchen. "And be quick about it." 

She already had a fresh pitcher of iced tea ready in the refrigerator, and fresh mint leaves in a jar. She also thought to bring more ice and a set of clean glasses, though not specifically asked to do so. She was a professional, after all.

Juana returned with her trayful of supplies. "I wose teenking dat chu would be niding more ice, too, Señora," Juana declared in her Mexican accent as she stepped onto the veranda. "And, 'eer are some clin glasses." 

"Fine, Juana," her mistress acknowledged. "Just set it all over there on the bar."

"Weel dee Señora take a nap before dee dee-nair?" the servant inquired.

"No!" the mistress snapped back. "That will be all, Juana. You can leave us now."

Juana shuffled away. She nearly shook her head in sadness, but held back. It would have been, after all, an act of judgment to do so, and that would have presumed closeness that she was determined to avoid.

"¡Es borracha, otra vez!" she said silently. "¡Ah, Señor Alvin; el povrecito!"

She returned to her windows, out of sight of the women seated around the circular table on the veranda.

"That maid of yours has some kind of attitude, Gloria," Juana heard one of them say.

"She acts likes she's the queen of the house," another added.

"I know, I know," Gloria sighed. "If it were up to me I'd have fired them both long ago. But, Alvin likes them; what can I do?"

"Don't let her get under your skin, Gloria." 

"That's good advice, Brenda. Now, be a dear and pour me a glassful of that special iced tea."

"Sure thing, Gloria. Anyone else?" Brenda asked as she rose from the table. The two other women held up their own empty glasses, shaking them.

Brenda dropped the ice and mint leaves into the bottom of the clean set of glasses. She poured in the vodka and tea and set the full glasses on the tray that Juana left and placed it in the middle of the large table. Each woman took a glass and eased back into their chairs.

"You did that without spilling a drop, Brenda," Ashley joked. "You must've fallen behind us in your drinking."

"Practice and training," Brenda replied. "I can be totally soused and carry a tray of food or drinks anywhere. It's a skill that often comes in handy." 

"It was a lovely dinna' pahty Friday night, Gloria." Darlene, the most youthful of the quartet said in her Georgia accent. She hadn't quite been able to lose it, regardless how hard she tried. "It was all so perfect."

"Careful—accent," Gloria admonished the young woman.

"Oh, you're so right, Gloria. I do need to shed this way of talkin'. Sometimes I slip when I've had a drink or two. But the fact remains; I did so enjoy the party."

"When you've had a few drinks is when you need to remember it most," Gloria said. "I know it's hard. It was hard for me when I moved here from Dallas."

"It was your first, wasn't it?" Ashley said, already knowing the answer.

"Well, Ah just loved it!" Darlene replied. "All the beautiful gowns, the lights, the music; it was all so grand!" she gushed.

"And all of the important people," Brenda added. 

"Ah suppose so," Darlene admitted with a slight pout.

"Don't be so glum about it," Ashley retorted. "Those old geezers are the contacts that make sure that our dear husbands keep on VP-ing in this grand company."

"And keep that cash rollin' in," Brenda agreed. 

"So, who's the man with the pot belly and no hair?" Darlene inquired. 

"Jim Sweeney," Brenda answered. "A retired oil company executive."

"Well, that Mr. Sweeney thinks that he has one foot in my bed and one hand in my panties," Ashley proclaimed. "He took liberties more than once while we were dancing."

"And I saw you there in the corner with him, letting him think exactly that," Brenda laughed.

"Well, you wouldn't, would you?" Darlene demanded; her eyes were wide.

"Probably not," Ashley answered in honesty, "but one never knows when one's talents can serve one's needs."

Darlene gasped.

"It's part of your wifely duty, dear," Brenda admonished. "A little secret favor— someday, it might be that final push that puts your husband over the top."

"And you, right along with him," Ashley added. 

Come now, Brenda," Gloria scolded. "Don't get Darlene all upset. That kind of thing isn't usually necessary. You just have to make a guy like Sweeney think he has a chance to bed you. That's usually enough."

"And that you would just love him to, if only..." Ashley added with a fake romantic swoon.

"And let your husband think it was his leadership and analysis that got him the job," Brenda put her last two cents in the pot and all the women shared the laugh.

Darlene leaned back in her chair, appearing unsure.

"Look, Darlene," Gloria went on, "it's part of the executive game. You don't have a choice whether you want to play. Just being here makes you a player."

"But, why can't..."

"Because that's the way it is," Gloria interrupted. "Sex and power just go together—like wine and cheese." The older woman peered over the top of her sunglasses to make sure her pupil was listening. "Don't look so sad," she went on, wearing a wry smile. "Sex is fun, after all. No one said that we can't enjoy our work." The last remark brought another round of tittering, except from Darlene who was adapting to her new code.

"If you say so, Gloria," Darlene mumbled into her drink.

"I do say so," Gloria replied sternly. "Do what you have to do. Don't do anything for free and be sure to keep your secrets secret."

"Not secret from us, of course," Brenda quipped. They all laughed again. Even Darlene finally joined in. The sun was merciless and Brenda made the fresh drinks strong. They would have laughed at anything. 

"By the way, Darlene," Gloria said, "your gown the other night was lovely. It so suited your petite figure"

"Oh, thank you Gloria," Darlene answered with a self-conscious blush. "Your gown was..."

"Just make a few improvements next time," Gloria cut off the young novice. "The rule of two's," she explained. "Double the cleavage; spend twice the money on the gown; divide the extra fabric around your derriere by two. It will pay off double, believe me."

"I had on a little thong under mine the other night," Ashley declared. "Why bother going to the gym if you can't flaunt it once in a while?"

"It was just me underneath," Brenda confided. "Panty lines would have ruined it."

"Oh, mah goodness!" Darlene exclaimed. She covered her face in embarrassment, giggling and blushing at the naughtiness of it.

Ashley took a big swallow of her drink. "You had your set on display as usual, Gloria; that's for sure."

"It wasn't by accident, dear," Gloria acknowledged. "Alvin's the CEO; I'm his wife. It's up to me to sport the best tits in the place!"

"That," Brenda snorted, "you so ably did." She set down her empty glass. 

"Pierre knows what I like and just how to do it," the mistress of the court explained. "That's where the 'spend twice as much' rule comes in. Trim a little fabric here and there, some underwires, the right color and some sequins. Pierre knows just how to do it."

"Voila, as Pierre would say," Brenda breathed out with a tiny slur. 

"I noticed that none of the men looked me in the eye when they were talking to me," Gloria asserted with a chuckle, "except for Frank Bennett—he's so straight-laced."

"They may not have looked you in the eye, but they won't forget you," Brenda slurred, slumping down in her chair and pulling the brim of her hat over her eyes.

"I would have never guessed underwires," Ashley admitted.

"They make them out of plastic now, so they can move with you, instead of you with them. They're really pretty good—a modern technology breakthrough," Gloria informed the others as Ashley poured more elixir into the empty glasses. "I think that our husbands' company actually makes the plastic—or has something to do with it."

"To plastic!" Ashley hoisted her glass in a mock toast, spilling a little. The others followed suit, laughing in their derision.

"Speakin' of husbins," Darlene asked, "shouldn't ours be headin' home right about now? Aren't we afraid they'll see us in this slightly tipsy condition?"

"Mine's gone to New York with Frank Bennett," Gloria replied. "Don't worry about him."

"New York?" one of the women queried.

"Something to do with bankers and Wall Street. They left this morning. Then, Alvin's going on to Europe and Frank's coming back day after tomorrow." 

"Speakin' of Frank Bennett, what did y'all think of Trudy's gown the other night," Darlene asked. 

"Certainly no underwires in that!" Ashley put in.

"Didn't need any," Brenda said, still slumping in her chair. "She never does; there's nothing to hold up." 

"Poor Frank," Ashley mocked. "Do you think he knows how deprived he is? Does he ever wonder what a real handful feels like?"

"I don't think he does," Brenda answered for the others.

"Maybe one of these days, I'll let him sample a handful of mine," Ashley mused. "And while he's doin't that I'll get my hands around somethin' that belongs to him."

"Keep dreamin', girl," Brenda warned.

"Well, he just makes me think that he'd be a real handful in the sack," Ashley continued, "and I could be just the one to put him through his paces."

"It was disgusting!" Gloria declared. "Did you see how all the men's eyes just followed Trudy around the whole time? That includes our own dear husbands, mind you."

"Maybe they were in a fog and thought Trudy was a lighthouse," Brenda quipped.

"They just couldn't believe how homely she is," Ashley said.

"Imagine—wearin' royal blue in the summer," Darlene sneered.

"It's not that," Gloria corrected her pupils. "The men don't care for any of that. They watch her because they like her. They'd like us to be just like her, too—all smiley and nice. They like her because she's not one of us. She talks to them like they're just regular people and she doesn't join in with us wives. She's what we were like before we got these higher responsibilities."

"Well, she did look gorgeous in that simple gown, being so tall and slender," Ashley said.

"No, it's 'cause they like her!" Gloria insisted, raising her voice. "And, they don't like us. They need us—but they don't like us. Trudy's got them wrapped around her bony little finger, and we just can't have it any more."

"You tell 'em, Gloria," Brenda intoned, her eyes half-closed.

"If the men are gonna' like Trudy, she's got to be made to be just like us!" Gloria commanded. "I won't play second fiddle to that flat-chested, homely giraffe!"

"How are we supposed to accomplish that?" Ashley asked.

"That's the part I haven't got yet," Gloria admitted. "But, if we don't figure it out soon, our men will be having us be just like her, and none of us can do that." 

"Imagine ending up in divorce court for having big tits," Brenda mumbled from beneath her pulled-down hat brim.

"It's happened for less," Ashley warned. "I guess it depends on you pre-nup."

"What kind of silly name is 'Trudy', anyway," Darlene asked, but no one heard, or no one bothered to answer.

********* 

As Darlene and Ashley rose to take their leave Gloria and Brenda cast each other quick glances. "Be careful driving, girls" Gloria called to the women over her shoulder. "The sun is so hot," Gloria turned to Brenda, "It makes the vodka seem stronger than it really is. I wish they would use their drivers." Juana cast a furtive glance at the women as they tried to steady their feet under themselves before staggering out and getting behind the steering wheels of their cars.

"They're afraid the drivers will tell their husbands," Brenda countered. "Besides, the drivers are on call at the office."

Gloria shrugged. "Enough of that; let's finish our drinks by the pool."

It was late in the afternoon; José and his helpers had finished for the day. The pool was to the side of the veranda, about thirty feet away. Along side was an out-building that served as a changing room and mini gym. As the two women stood up, the effects of the alcohol hit them as it had their friends and they stumbled a bit descending the few steps of the veranda. 

"Did you bring your suit?" Gloria asked.

"I always do," Brenda replied. "I put it on under my skirt and blouse. I'm always ready to go in the pool when I'm at your house." 

Brenda set her drink on a small table next to a chaise lounge, and her necklace and sunglasses alongside her drink. She quickly stripped off the tee-shirt she was wearing to reveal a bikini top. Two combs held back her honey-colored hair in place, but she removed her dangling earrings.

Her bikini top was bright red, which highlighted her fair-skinned breasts spilling out over the top. She was very proud of them. They weren't as big as Gloria's, of course, but they were plenty big and stood up by themselves on her broad-shouldered frame. They were all hers—nothing added. She enjoyed the way they were looked at when she had them out on display. 

Women gazed at them in envy; men in longing. If she liked a man, or if she wished him to want her, she would treat him. First, profiles; then, a strategic bend at the waist face- on to the target always did the trick. She'd casually look away to allow the man to get a proper eyeful while staying discreet. She pretended not to realize that her nipples were stiff and pressed through the fabric. The excitement of it all made the little buttons send out their message, without the necessity of touching them. She allowed Gloria the pleasure of claiming to have 'the best tits in the place'. Brenda knew better and for the time being, it was enough.

Of course, there were men who helped themselves without permission. They were men whom Brenda disliked, or who hadn't the standing to over-presume—usually plant managers, or staff people visiting from the field. She knew how to handle them. There would be the enticing display. Gradually, a man would loose himself, allowing his eyes to linger a few seconds too long, or venture too close. Sometimes he would manifest his interest in an involuntary, physical way—a very unfortunate mistake at one of Gloria's pool parties. Brenda would allow more and more. All at once she would snap her head around, catching the interloper in mid-gaze. She would stare at him for a few long seconds; then she'd throw her head back and laugh, erasing the man's dignity and hopes all at once.

"I'm fixin' to finish this drink before I go in for a swim," Gloria said as she sank into a chaise and watched Brenda finish undressing. "You go right ahead."


The Brass Statuettes Ch. 01



Brenda kicked off her sandals and unbuttoned the wraparound skirt. "That Texas drawl always seems to come back to you in the late afternoon, Gloria," she advised her friend. 

"It the drinks, Ah giss. They make me forget t' hold it back," Gloria answered. "They make me feel like Ah'm still a day-bu-tant ag'in, back in Dallas. Thanks for remindin' me."

Brenda didn't answer; she knew better. A little joke or quip taken the wrong way would not soon be forgotten and would have a price. It was best to say nothing. She slipped into the clear water. The coolness helped take away some of the buzz from the one or two, too many drinks. She slowly made her way to the opposite end of the pool doing a relaxing breaststroke. The coldness felt so good on her prized breasts as they pushed the water out ahead of her.

As she finished the lap in the shallow end she turned and saw Gloria easing herself into the water, now stripped of her clothes and in her one-piece suit. Brenda started out on the return trip to the deep end. Gloria waited for her.

She took her time finishing her lap, taking her time. Near the end, she submerged for the last few strokes, to where Gloria waited. As Brenda surfaced, she rubbed herself on the other woman, bringing breasts together. She broke the water and their faces were inches apart.

"If you want to dry off, I've got some towels in the exercise room," Gloria whispered. 

Brenda didn't answer, only backed away and hoisted herself out of the pool. Gloria always insisted that they pretend these sessions popped up, spontaneously. Brenda knew it was a predictable outcome; it was going to happen from the moment she took her seat on the veranda hours before. Gloria climbed out using the ladder in the corner. Brenda followed her to the small mini-gym near the pool. Gloria locked the door behind them.

The little gym was well appointed. In addition to a rowing machine and stationary bike, there was a massage table and a leather couch and matching easy chairs in the corner with wall-to-wall carpeting all around..

Gloria moved to the massage table and leaned back against it. She was slightly shorter than Brenda, and an unknown amount of years older. She had large breasts and a trim figure meticulously tended. Her hair was bright blonde, not her true color. Brenda had seen it all before.

The two women embraced and shared a kiss. Brenda felt Gloria's tongue slip between her own lips. She allowed Gloria to play there for a while until she snaked out her own tongue and licked around Gloria's lips. As she did, she felt her bikini top unsnap. They broke the kiss and Gloria pulled the straps from her shoulders. Brenda reached out to reciprocate and bare Gloria's breasts, but her mentor stopped her.

"Wait, you know I like to do you first," Gloria whispered. 

Brenda allowed the older woman to cup a breast in each hand, rubbing her thumbs over the nipples. Brenda closed her eyes as sensations came to her. She felt the pleasure of them being tenderly lifted, the kisses and nibbles on the sensitive areas. Mostly, she savored another person, even a woman, appreciating and savoring them. 

It wasn't that Brenda preferred lesbian sex to the usual kind—she could see no harm in it. After all, girls danced with one another as teens when no young males had the courage to venture to the dance floor. In those learning days they practiced kissing one another as they huddled behind locked bedroom doors and they tired of Tiger Beat and Cosmopolitan. It was necessary, lest they be embarrassed when, at long last, the real thing finally came their way. They learned then that there were times that a woman just knew how to do some things better. Their young men assumed them to be more experienced than they were. That led to less gentle moments at the breaking of virginity, and from that moment they saw sex as it was and was meant to be. It was a short step to more intimate things with those who knew their bodies best. It was so much safer than sex with a boy—or a man—when pregnancy loomed in her youth and other hurts in adulthood. 

"Everyone needs to get off now and then," she said to herself as she felt Gloria's lips on her own, a signal that it was time for giver and receiver to switch roles.

She reached for the straps of Gloria's suit and this time the arms were passively held aside. The one-piece was wet, so it stuck to Gloria's skin and took some effort. Brenda worked it down, deciding to go the rest of the way right away. It suited Gloria, too. As Brenda tried to roll the spandex over the hips, Gloria took over. She peeled off the suit and threw it aside. Brenda hooked her thumbs in the waist of her bikini bottoms to pull them down to match, but Gloria stopped her with a gentle touch on the hand.

"Not yet—we'll get to it later," she promised.

Brenda looked at the nude woman before her, the large breasts hanging, available; below was the beckoning thatch of pubic hair, darkened with wetness from the swim. It marked the gateway—to many things. It meant pleasure and release for one; it was favor and indispensability for the other.

She didn't really know how old Gloria was. She was certainly younger that Alvin's sixty-two years—it was his second time around. A good guess was forty-two or three, but one couldn't be sure. Brenda never got over how well Gloria preserved her figure with her regimen of workouts and dieting. At thirty-six, she knew that soon she would be doing the same thing for the same reason. 

Gloria's nipples had hardened; she panted in anticipation. Soon Brenda would pleasure them as Gloria had done for her. She decided, however, to change the routine that day. 

She wrapped her arms around Gloria and kissed her, open-mouthed, with soulfulness. Two sets of breasts met as the space between them closed together. Brenda's draped over Gloria's with the difference in height. Gloria wrapped her arms around Brenda's neck, but otherwise let herself be served to the coming pleasure. The kiss continued. Brenda reached down and cupped the vulva; it made Gloria moan. It fit neatly into her hand; she moved it with a slow, rotating motion. Gloria pressed herself into Brenda's hand harder and spread her legs a little to allow access. Brenda dipped a finger between the folds, taking some moisture from the interior and spreading it on the clitoris. All the while she kept her grasp of the vulva.

Gloria pressed herself again against Brenda's hand, a demand for more. She grasped her arms tighter around Brenda's neck. She was panting heavily, issuing little purring sounds. 

The sensation of breast on breast was a pleasant one that Brenda was determined to enjoy. She knew Gloria's routine. With the earlier decline to remove the bikini bottom, Brenda already knew that it would be only a one-way delivery of release on that hot afternoon. It wasn't always that way, but it was often Gloria's choice, especially when she was upset about something. The earlier tirade over the uncooperative Trudy Bennett had enabled Brenda to predict what would happen. The contact of breasts would have to be enough.

Brenda pressed ahead with the task that she knew so well. She placed her mouth over Gloria's again, not from affection, but to suppress spoken commands. She was willing to serve the mistress, but coveted the final freedom to do her job as she knew it without instruction. Through the joined mouths, Gloria issued stifled mews to express gratitude for her pleasure.

Brenda felt Gloria's legs open just a little wider, a sign to her that she was performing as expected. Gloria's hands pressed her down at her shoulders. Brenda knelt before her, the slippery slit and matted hair inches from her face. Without hesitating, she grasped the buttocks and pressed her face in. Her tongue found Gloria's special place. From above, came a gasp, then another. A pair of hands pressed the back of Brenda's head. The hips flexed and pressed, adjusting the angle and pressure. Brenda kept to the task without tiring. As each minute passed, Gloria's sounds and pressing told her that her escape was not far off. Soon, Brenda was holding her up with her arms thrown around her pelvis as Gloria gradually lost control. Inside, Brenda smiled because she knew that was just how it was supposed to be. 

After a while, Gloria released her hands from the back of Brenda's head. Placing them under her jaw, she gently pressed up, signaling Brenda to stand. 

"Finish me, darlin'," Gloria commanded and begged. She hopped up on the massage table and lay down on her back. Her legs were bent at the knees and spread wide. Her feet were planted at the edge of the table.

"Shall I get the harness?" Brenda suggested, hoping anew for her own chance at release. 

"No—no," Gloria answered in a raspy whisper. "Just eat me!"

The command disappointed Brenda. She would have enjoyed doffing her bikini bottom and mounting Gloria for the grand finale. It was Gloria's afternoon, however, so Brenda complied.

She wedged her hands under the pelvis and pulled herself down to the wet vulva. She thrust out her tongue and thrust in hard. Gloria grunted and pressed up her hips. That made Brenda attack with greater vigor. Pressing—thrusting; it was a pendulum, swinging faster and longer on each stroke, until Gloria drew in a deep breath and kept pushing herself into Brenda's face. The moment arrived. It ended with a quick, high pitched cry. Then, Gloria eased her self back down, slowly relaxing, spent and temporarily satisfied.

Brenda laid her head on Gloria's belly, kissing the soft skin. She raised her hands to the large breasts above to caress them. Brenda's own breasts pressed between Gloria's thighs and she felt the pubic hair scratching the skin over her collarbone. Gloria stroked Brenda's temple in a gesture of thanks.

"Oh, that was so good, darlin'," she murmured. "I truly needed it—feel so much better."

Brenda said nothing, just started feeling restless in the uncomfortable posture.

"I'm so sorry that we didn't get to you," Gloria apologized. "Next time, we surely must." 

"I have to get going pretty soon," Brenda answered. "I want to get home before Blake."

Juana was cleaning up the veranda and saw the two women come out of from the mini-gym together. Brenda noticed her avert her eyes as she and Gloria passed. Brenda knew that somehow the old woman had deciphered their secret. "Those inscrutable Mexicans," she thought to herself. She wondered how Gloria had allowed the maid to exist in the house with such an attitude. "I would have fired her long ago."

********* 

As midnight approached, sleep was an invited guest, but would not come in. Trudy sat upright in her bed, pondering her restlessness. She was alone; Frank was in New York with Alvin, conferring with investment bankers. Their daughters, Patricia and Margaret, were asleep in their rooms. Inside, the house was cool because of the air conditioning; outside, the heavy air was still and hot. 

Her husband had been away on business many times. As it was, his absence this time was only two-days. Tomorrow night he planned to fly home on the red-eye. She wondered why the emptiness of her bed affected her so much at this moment after all these years of periodic aloneness. She never enjoyed solitude, as some might. For Trudy, private feelings were for sharing.

The coolness irritated her a little. She accepted air conditioning as a necessity in the Texas summer, but it always occurred to her that it produced artificial air. She walked onto the balcony outside the master bedroom, closing the sliding glass door behind her. Even though the night was hot, it felt good to Trudy as she stood barefoot in her cotton nightie. She thought she might go downstairs and get a cold drink from the refrigerator. She shrugged it off, preferring to just stay outside awhile and listen to the night. 

The cicadas were busy singing their nocturne. Not even a whisper of a breeze stirred. The full moon shone brightly, and it was the only light in the back of the house. She and Frank spent many warm nights on this balcony, relaxing with a drink or two before bed. She was starting to feel better already.

Below, a slight glimmer of moonlight reflected from the water in the swimming pool. When she listened carefully she could hear the quiet hum of the motor of the filtering equipment. A smile spread across her face as she thought of her midnight swim with Frank three nights before. 

They had just returned from the corporate soiree at Alvin's and Gloria's house. It had been Frank's big night as he was formally installed in his new post. She wore her royal blue, halter-style gown that the other wives disdained so openly and silently envied. She was sure that it pleased Frank. It was a warm night, like this one. The house was empty; the girls were overnight at their grandparents' house. 

Frank suggested a midnight swim, and they both knew what that meant. He undressed her near the door to the back yard. They made love in the black, cool water; it was a gift of passion, and lust and pleasure. Even after nearly twenty years, they never tired of one another. She could always predict his every move, yet each time there was some new emotion or sensation. Perhaps it was the confirming renewal of the old ones that provided the thrill. When it was finished, they gathered up discarded clothing and marched to their bedroom where they made love again. After that, sleep came easily.

"Frank would know what to do with a woman who can't get to sleep," she said to herself, almost out loud, still with the broad smile that such thoughts had brought to her. 

She finally understood her insomnia. Satiation gave birth to new longing. Trudy sighed. Frank was in New York; it was reality and she would have to wait. 

A thought occurred to her. A quick dip in the pool might cool her off; get her mind on something else. If careful, she could do it quietly without waking the girls or the neighbors. It would be just the ticket—she would do it. She returned silently to her bedroom to prepare. 

She carefully made her way through the upstairs hallway and down the stairs, covered by her terrycloth robe, towel in hand. She was careful to make no noise. If she woke the girls, it would ruin everything. Trudy knew every step, every creaky floorboard in the house. The girls would not wake up.

She was still remembering how Frank disrobed her the other night. It was a sensual preparation, equal in many ways, to the final act. She pondered his various lovemaking styles—he had more than one. He was stocky and muscled, like a bulldog. She loved it when he would seize and take her, primal and driven. He would be determined and aggressive, losing himself to all else but her. He was strong; and she would allow him to overpower her and have his way. She was lean and strong, herself, so the voluntary surrender was even more satisfying. He would surrender, too—not physically, of course—but all the reserve that he guarded so carefully from all but her. 

Frank could make love sweetly and tenderly. They might lie together for a long time, savoring the joining, allowing time to bring climax to them like a zephyr in a garden. Sometimes he would lie atop her; at other times it was reversed. Often they would start one way and end the other. At the proper moment, she would fill his ears with a song of delight and then he would fill her with a low-pitched sigh of satiation.

Sometimes Trudy was the tigress, capturing him and letting all things loose. Frank would be excited by the challenge. At those times it was pure—an outburst of energy and pleasure—exhilarating and, in its own way so relaxing. It was that way in the pool Friday night after the soiree. Trudy's thoughts turned back to the present as she stepped quietly through the door to the outside and the pool. Trudy supposed that way was the best, but would rather not have to choose.

"I'd bet that Frank wishes he was here instead of New York," she assured herself as she tiptoed over the flagstone walk.

She arrived at the pool and took a quick glance behind her to check the windows of her daughters' rooms. They remained darkened; she was unseen. She let her robe fall from her shoulders to the cement. She was nude. She looked down into the refreshing, cool water. In a certain way, Frank was still in there. "Now I know why I couldn't sleep." 

The air touching her bare skin was good as she stood motionless at the side of the pool. She was tempted to touch herself, but fought off the urge. "I'll save that for Frank." She lowered her long body down to sit at the edge of the pool. The coldness of the water teased her senses as she dipped in her feet and calves.

Without a sound, she hoisted herself up on her locked arms and then silently let her whole body glide silently into the water. She raised her hands over her head so that she would sink all the way to the bottom. 

Being nude always gave her a different feeling when she swam and the darkness of the bottom blotted out all distractions. The coldness brought sensation to every nerve, especially her nipples and center as she lay on the bottom holding her breath. The water enveloped her body, every fine, near-invisible hair on her skin. She allowed the envelopment to overtake her and it became like Frank taking her. She let herself to float to the surface and rolled over to float on her back, relaxing her arms to dangle beneath her.

She took a deep breath for buoyancy. Her chest heaved her breasts skyward, out of the water. She felt them, and thought how they might have excited Frank, if only he were there. Her legs dangled below her and they casually splayed apart. The cool water invaded the opened crevices. She could not have contrived the scene more perfectly. "Maybe he's thinking the same thing right now." 

She righted herself in the water, easily treading in place. She was tempted once more to touch herself. She stopped again. "I'll save it for Frank," she repeated. It could never be as good as Frank. The thought of it—of what was stored in her memory and her expectations—excited her. She wondered to herself if she was wise to allow herself to dwell on it. The reverie brought such vicarious pleasure—it was nearly real, but she feared that she might never get to sleep in the state to which she had brought herself. She swam to the side of the pool 

She rested her arms in the overflow channel and relaxed. An unexpected gush of pleasure suddenly hit her. At first, it was confusing, and then she realized that she had accidentally come to rest where the filtering pump jetted water back into the pool. She started to move away, but hesitated. She was aroused and that jet of water felt so good. "Just a few seconds," she thought. 

She lowered herself a few inches so that the full force of the water hit her just right. It was going to be only a brief indulgence, but she stayed a few seconds more after that. It was so hard to pull away.

"Oh, what the hell..." she uttered to herself in final surrender. The magic water pummeled her clitoris. She gave herself over to the unrelenting pleasure, thinking of her and Frank in that same pool a few nights before. It wasn't long before she climaxed. She had never touched herself—just let the water's infinite fingers bring her to it. When it happened she buried her face in the water's breast to drown her cry of pleasure. It surely wasn't her best-ever climax, but it was enough to unloose that which needed releasing.

It was over; she was satisfied. She lifted herself out of the pool and walked to where her towel and robe lay waiting. She expected a twinge of guilt at having been pleased in this way. She tried to feel it, but it just wasn't there to be felt. 

"Well, I'm pretty sure that Frank would have wanted me to." 

She toweled herself dry, put her robe back on. She went back to bed, ready for sleep.




The Brass Statuettes Ch. 01



*********** 

TO BE CONTINUED

Dear Readers,

Thanks for reading. I hope you're enjoying the story so far.

I'm always interested in your comments and questions. This website provides you two ways to let me know what you think. There is a Public Comments section, and a private e-mail facility. Both may be found at the end of each chapter.

Good reading and best regards,

AW



The Brass Statuettes Ch. 02



Chapter 2—A Tangling of Vines

"Good grief!" Alvin exclaimed, glancing at the breakfast menu. "Did you see the prices? I thought we were eating breakfast, for crissake, not buying a car."

"Another of the joys of New York City," Frank agreed. "I'm having a couple of eggs over easy with the trimmings. I'm hoping it'll last me until dinner. I just had a sandwich and a beer last night from room service and watched the ballgame on TV."

"It's just going to be the fruit plate for me," said Alvin. "I hate flying when I've had too much to eat."

"How did the dinner with the Senator go?"

"He sure knows how to order off the top of the menu when it's on someone else's tab," Alvin said, letting his frustration show. "Otherwise, I felt like I was talking to the wall."

"We'll have to bake those increased Superfund Taxes into our forecast, in that case."

Alvin nodded. "Changing the subject," he continued, "are you still sure about the delay on the stock offering?" 

"Absolutely!" Frank replied. "The stock market's just too unreceptive to a new stock offering right now. We'd be selling a big share of the company for too little money. We'll notify the SEC and convert this to a shelf registration."

"We had plans for that cash," Alvin reminded. "There's the R&D facility and the acquisition plan."

"I'm meeting with some bankers to talk about interim lines of credit," Frank informed him. "I'll let you know how it goes."

"The Board will need updating," Alvin said. "You should get to the Finance Committee members real quick, before they hear about it through the rumor mill. They'll be okay with it if we keep them informed. We've got good reasons."

"I'll get my secretary to arrange a conference call for tomorrow," Frank assured him. "Do you want to be part of that? 

Alvin shook his head. "There's nothing for me to add that you can't take care of. They've got to start listening to you. You're the CFO now; lay it out for 'em."

"I also need to get the auditors to change the 10-Q, and when you get back from Europe, you'll need some prep for the quarterly phone conference." Alvin rolled his eyes, then nodded that he understood. The quarterly phone conferences weren't his favorite task.

"We should redo the forecast with this change in mind," Frank added. "We've got to stay on forecast. Any slips will have a big negative impact. The market will think we've delayed the offering for internal reasons."

"Get that going right away," Alvin agreed. "Keep it to a need-to-know basis until I have a chance to get this meeting with the takeover candidate in Germany behind me. I'm going to have to buy some time." 

"Better move fast. These kinds of secrets don't stay secret for long," Frank said. He took a bite of his whole wheat toast and thought for a second. "This could turn out to be a good thing. We might want to reassess our position on this European deal."

"You're still opposed to it," Alvin replied. "I don't understand..."

"I said that I would support it if it came to pass," Frank countered. "I just think that Europe is a tough market. There are a lot of big, long-established companies there already and the regulation is even worse than in the States. I'm nervous about acquiring the pharmaceutical division of the acquisition target. It's not our traditional business and it will require mountains of capital."

"I agree with you on that," Alvin nodded. "The problem is that if we try to spin off that division the EU will block the merger. They're afraid of concentration in the drug sector."

"Sometimes you've got to be willing to walk away," Frank replied. 

"What would you do with the money?" Alvin asked. 

"As I said before, I'd fund the R&D facility and buy out some of those old pension liabilities."

"What about buying back those outstanding bonds?" Alvin asked.

Frank shook his head. "I wouldn't endorse raising equity capital to replace debt capital."

"I'll think about what you said on my flight over," Alvin said. "What've you got in store today?"

"A big day!" Frank exclaimed. "I'm meeting with the underwriters and the lawyers to finalize the shelf filing for the SEC this morning. I've got an interview at one o'clock with a candidate to take my place as Controller. Our attorneys promised to lend me one of their spare offices for that. I'm having an early dinner with Paul Riley from Citicorp about the interim credit lines. Then, a quick cab out to JFK to catch the red-eye to Houston."

"Sounds like you're gonna need that big breakfast," Alvin joked.

"Hopefully, I'll have some time to buy Trudy something. I called her this morning. She said it's been hot in Texas and she had to cool off in the pool."

"Hey, speaking of Trudy," Alvin spoke up, "how'd she enjoy your installment dinner last week?"

"Fine, I suppose," Frank answered. "Those big gala things aren't really her cup of tea."

"Well, she sure looked nice," Alvin said. "She was nice," he corrected himself. "She should spend some time with Gloria and the other wives more. They get together around our pool quite a lot. Gloria can get Trudy involved in her charity projects."

"I don't know, Alvin," Frank protested. "Trudy doesn't..."

"It'll be just the thing. She'll have a great time, and it's good for our corporate image," Alvin insisted.

"I'll mention it to her. It would be fine with me, but it's really up to her," Frank answered.

A waiter approached their table carrying a cordless phone. "Mr. Alvin Warner?" the waiter asked. "Call for you, sir." He handed Alvin the phone.

"That was the front desk letting me know my airport car's ready. Mind picking up the tab for me, Frank? I need to get moving to the airport."

********** 

Gloria arrived with the company car to pick Brenda up at her residence. The car was more than a sedan, but not quite a limo and came complete with driver. Normally, it was assigned to Alvin when he was in town. Since he was in New York, and then off to Europe, it was at Gloria's disposal. 

Brenda noticed that Gloria had a faraway look on her face as she approached the waiting car. She decided not to mention it; Gloria's moods were quite ephemeral and opening a can of worms didn't seem like a very good idea. She quietly slipped into the back seat with her as the driver held the door open. They drove for a mile or more. Brenda said 'hello', but Gloria didn't answer. She decided to be patient and let her hostess come around.

"I hope you didn't get too dressed up for the dedication," Gloria said, right on cue. "It puts the children off if you're dressed up too much."

"I don't know, what do you think?" Brenda asked. "I thought with the press taking pictures, it would be better..."

"They won't be interested in you," Gloria snapped, "just in me; I'm in charge of this. Of course they'll really be most interested in the teachers—and, of course, the children."

"Sorry," Brenda mumbled. 

"Oh, Brenda," Gloria pleaded, "please forgive me. Alvin has me in a bad mood again. I tried to tell him all about the dedication this morning when I called him in New York, but he wouldn't listen. He just kept on and on about business, business, business. He doesn't know how much this means to me."

"It's okay, Gloria. I..."

"I shouldn't take it out on you," Gloria conceded, covering Brenda's hand with her own. "I'll make it up to you with lunch later at the Continental Room. Maybe we'll have a swim at my house after that." She paused and gave Brenda that peculiar look. "Anyway, you look just fine."

"You've worked hard on this project, Gloria."

"It was a real labor of love, I must admit. I suppose I should be thanking Alvin for it. He's the one who arranged the funding from the Company. He had the Western Chemical lawyers set up the Foundation and made me the Executive Director. Look, here's my card."

She handed a business card to Brenda. It read: Western Chemical Community Foundation, with Gloria's name and title. "Of course, it's great PR for the Company. I don't care—I love the children and this preschool-daycare facility will be great for them."


"Gloria, I'm impressed," Brenda gushed as she fingered the card. "How's the pay?" 

"I only take a salary of one dollar a year. I'm not in it for the money; I've got plenty, already."

"For the prestige, then?" Brenda asked.

"Believe it or not, it's because I know that I'm doing some good for those poor children. The families can't pay for it on their own. This will give the children a good start for school. Wait 'til you see them—they're so adorable. Then, you'll understand."

"You're surprising me, Gloria," Brenda replied. "I've never known this part of you."

"At first, it was just something to do to stay busy," Gloria said. "Then the children got to me. Once I had some contact with them, I couldn't stop myself."

"I think it's sweet," Brenda said.

Brenda noticed that Gloria shot back a questioning look, which made Brenda realize that the tone of her voice lacked sincerity. She'd have to work on that.

"When Alvin was married to his first wife he got himself vasectomized after they had their two kids," Gloria confided. "This is a special chance for me."

"You knew that there would be no children when you..." Brenda started to say.

"Yes—yes," Gloria answered without waiting for the question, "it was an easy decision back then. Having a family seemed to get in the way of what I wanted. I've only started wondering about it recently. Someday, you'll find out."

Brenda thought it might be a good opportunity to ask Gloria exactly how old she was. She started to utter the question, but pulled back the words just in time. She knew from experience that Gloria's confidences had limits. She might openly discuss her private feelings, but never a private number. Brenda had learned long ago that Gloria dealt severely with attempts to pry. Besides, Gloria's age didn't matter. Alvin's did, because that defined Gloria's longevity in her position—and everyone knew that Alvin was sixty-two.

"I want to get you involved in the foundation, Brenda," Gloria announced. "Ashley and Darlene, too. You'll love it. You won't have to do much—just look sexy like you always do and ask the right people for money. Western starts us with some money each year and we raise more with matching government grants and private donations. Then, we dole it out. We have a few other projects besides this Children's Center. We'll have an Evaluation Committee."

"Sure, Gloria," Brenda answered, sensing a gentle twist of the arm. "How much did Western come up with this year, anyway?"

"It was two million at first," Gloria answered. "At budget time I gave Alvin the blow job of his life and it got to be three million."

"Gloria!" Brenda exclaimed.

"I told you yesterday that our work should be fun—and he hadn't had one in a long time."

The two women were laughing over the revelation when they spied the driver's cheeks puff out as he overheard the comment.

"Fair's fair! Isn't that right, Arthur?" Gloria called to the front of the car. 

"I wouldn't know, Mrs. Warner," the driver answered back without turning around.

"Good old Arthur," Gloria quipped. "He keeps hoping. Someday, maybe he'll get lucky."

"Oh look, Gloria," Brenda called out. "We're here already."

************ 

The Continental Room was full with the lunch crowd, but Gloria was always assured a table whenever she showed up. They were drinking a glass of Chablis and pondering the menu when Brenda spoke up to break the ice.

"I really liked the new wing of the school, Gloria."

"We remodeled the existing portion, too," Gloria said. "It's for the children. Weren't they cute?"

"They came to you so naturally," Brenda replied. "They really love you."

Gloria looked down at her menu and blushed. "Maybe the teachers told them they had to."

"I doubt that little children are capable of putting on an act like that," Brenda insisted. "I think they really love you."

Gloria didn't answer; a small tear appeared at the corner of her eye and she raised the menu higher to cover it up. Brenda noticed anyway. After a half minute passed Gloria lowered the menu and Brenda could see that she was back to normal.

"What do you think of the name—'Sunrise School'? I thought it up myself."

"Catchy," Brenda answered, nodding her head in approval. "I'm surprised they didn't name it after you. You know, the Gloria Warner School."

"That idea came up, but it sounded slightly pretentious. Besides, everyone might think I'm dead—and, of course, I'm not."

The last little joke made the women laugh, signaling that the unpleasant emotional interlude was over, and Brenda was glad of it.

"I was serious about getting you and the others involved," Gloria reminded her. She leaned forward in her chair, closer to Brenda. "With more of us we can pull in more funding. We'll be ready for the big time. I have lots of ideas."

"What kind of ideas, Gloria," Brenda asked dutifully.

"A children's wing at the hospital, for one," Gloria whispered.

"That's a far sight bigger than a wing on a daycare center," Brenda protested. "To get that kind of money out of Western Chemical, Alvin's going to be walking around with a pretty big grin on his face all the time."

"Alvin, and your husband, Blake, too. We all have to do our duty" Gloria said with a wry smile. Brenda cleared her throat. "And that goes for Ashley's and Darlene's husbands." 

"They might get too used to it after a while," Brenda bantered back, but she was really trying to change the subject. She knew Gloria well enough to know that she would not be deterred.

"Anyway," Gloria went on, "I learned a lot about these kinds of things while doing this project. All the money doesn't have to come from Western Chemical. We just need to have them get the funding started. Once we demonstrate that we have some serious money in our till other companies will do almost anything to get to join in. There's a lot of government money around, too."

"You've learned a lot, Gloria," Brenda said as she sipped her wine. "I'm convinced—this could be fun."

"That's the spirit, girl!" Gloria exclaimed. "We need to speak with Ashley and Darlene to get this-here ball a-rollin'. I'm so excited!"

"Careful, Gloria," Brenda warned. "Your accent is showing. The Continental Room is the wrong place for that."

"Oops!" Gloria mumbled. "Thanks for the warning."

"We'll have Ashley and Darlene over to your house tomorrow and let them in on it."

"It'll have to be in the afternoon," Gloria advised. "I've got a salon appointment in the morning."

The subject seemed closed for the time being so the two women resumed poring over their menus in silence. Before long, a waiter came by to take their orders. As he left, Brenda thought to bring up another point.

"Gloria, I had a thought about getting the girls involved."

"I'm all ears," Gloria replied.

Well," Brenda began, "this would be a good way to bring Trudy Bennett into our group."

"Huh?" Gloria relied, scrunching her nose, in either disdain or confusion. Brenda knew that for Gloria, confusion was disdain.

"I was remembering what we said at the pool about how we had to get Trudy's thinking more consistent with ours," Brenda recounted.

"It was on the veranda, and I said it," Gloria clarified. Brenda paused, frustrated by the correction. "Well, go on."

"It's simple," Brenda continued. "We'll bring Trudy into our group. When she gets to work on a project like Sunrise she'll enjoy it so much that she's bound to come over to our side. The more she comes around, we'll give her better jobs to do."

Gloria's face reddened to a palette of rage, which startled Brenda. "No you don't," Gloria growled in a low voice through her clenched teeth. "Don't you dare let her near those children. You know how she is. They'll love her—like they love me now. She always takes over everything. Even Alvin likes her better than me. I'll be out in the cold— she'll move right in and I'll have nothing. I couldn't stand that. I need those children. They're going to love me, not her."

"Children have simple minds," Brenda assured her. "They can love everyone at once."

"No, I said! Don't make me say it again." Gloria's eyes were wide and her cheeks were purple. Brenda was afraid that she'd scream and create a scene. "I won't have that simple-minded bitch steal this away from me." 

Gloria stopped speaking, but continued to stare at Brenda with all her anger intact and a few beads of perspiration formed on her brow.

"Easy, Gloria," Brenda soothed. "I didn't mean it like that. There will be lots of projects. We'll find a different one for her—something small. There's nothing to worry about. Besides, her husband's a senior executive in the Company. It wouldn't look right if she's not invited."

"Just make sure she stays away from the center and my children!" Gloria spat out.

************* 

It was nearly midnight when Frank picked up his luggage at the airport after his late flight from, New York. He'd called the valet parking service right after deplaning and by the time he had baggage in hand, his car was waiting for him. Soon he was clearing the airport parking lot. Traffic was sparse at the late hour, so he could make it to the house in about fifteen or twenty minutes.

"I wonder if Trudy will be up when I get in," he wondered to himself.

He reasoned that she wouldn't be; it was late and Trudy usually was asleep when he came in late. He hoped that this time she might be waiting for him.

"Maybe she'd go for some one-on one."

The house was dark, as Frank expected, when he pulled up to the darkened house. He left the car in the in the driveway instead of putting it in the garage to avoid waking Trudy and the girls. He had all but given up on his earlier plan. He grabbed his briefcase from the seat beside him, along with a small gift box. He decided to leave his suitcase in the trunk until morning. 

He silently stole through the house, treading lightly up the stairs, careful not to make a sound. He stole into their bedroom; he could make out Trudy's motionless form, a dark outline hunkered in the bed.

"Just as I thought, she's out like a light." 

He slid his clothes off in the darkness, trying not to make a sound. He'd hang them up in the morning, if Trudy didn't get to them first. It wasn't easy to be silent in the dark room, and Frank was proud of himself for doing it so well. He carefully opened a dresser drawer where Trudy always put his pajamas.

"You won't be needing those, Frank."

It was Trudy's voice piercing the silent darkness—too clear to have been just brought out of slumber. She startled Frank momentarily, but after a second he began reviving his earlier plan. 

"Trudy, I didn't know you were awake."

"Now you know," said the voice from under the covers.

"I brought you a present," Frank answered. "I'll bring it over."

"You won't need that, either," was the stern reply. 

"But, Trudy, I brought it all the way from New York."

"I'll open it in the morning," Trudy answered. "Now get in bed with me and I'll say 'thanks' in advance."

"It'll only take a minute, and I know you'll like it."

"Frank, stop teasing me and get in bed. I've been thinking the whole day about getting laid when you got home. Now, you're home."

Frank didn't answer. In the dark, he stifled a chuckle, which he hoped that Trudy didn't hear.

"C'mon Frank, I know you can handle it." 

She opened the present in the morning. It was a pair of earrings.

********* 

TO BE CONTINUED

Dear Readers,

Thanks for reading. I hope you're enjoying the story so far. I'm always interested in your comments and questions.

Good reading and best regards,

AW 



The Brass Statuettes Ch. 03



Chapter 3—Disappointment

For Frank and Trudy, the aftermath of sex always brought the best of sleep. Though their lovemaking took them deep into the night, the limited hours of slumber refreshed them enough for the next day. Trudy woke with the birds in the morning. She rose first to get a quick turn in the bathroom, then threw on her robe and went downstairs to prepare breakfast while Frank got ready for work. It was summer, so the girls had no school. Trudy would roust them out of bed a little later.

Frank walked into the kitchen as Trudy was serving his eggs. He had a small gift-wrapped package in hand, which he set on the counter. Trudy smiled when she saw it.

"You don't have to buy me a present every time you go out of town, Frank."

"I only do when I have time, and this time I did," he protested. 

She unwrapped the box and lifted the lid. "Very nice, Frank," she said, and she gave him a kiss on his freshly-shaven cheek. 

"I know I got you the same thing last time," Frank confessed. "I had a bottle of perfume picked out, but the clerk reminded me that they would probably confiscate it at airport security."

"I like them fine," Trudy replied. "Besides, I trust you to pick out earrings more than perfume." She laughed a little at the thought of Frank selecting a perfume, with little dabs of samples on his wrist. "Besides, it's the thought that counts and this was a nice thought." She bent down to where he was sitting at the kitchen table and kissed him again. 

"You already said 'thanks' last night," Frank reminded her, "and did a fine job of saying it, too."

"Stop it," Trudy said. She covered her face to hide her embarrassment. "I was afraid that you'd be too tired."

"Trudy," Frank answered, "with you, I don't dare to be too tired."

Trudy rolled her eyes, still blushing. She wondered why she was embarrassed after all these years and all their private moments. She wasn't shy when it counted, though, and that was the important part.

"I had breakfast with Alvin yesterday morning before he left for Europe," Frank changed the subject. "He sends his compliments—said you looked nice at the company dinner the other night."

"Oh, I don't know, it was just a simple..."

"He also suggested that you spend more time with Gloria and her friends."

Trudy drew a breath and let it out slowly. 

"Frank, I have nothing against Gloria, and the others. They're just not my type."

"Alvin said that he thought that Gloria might ask you to join in some of her charity projects."

"I dunno, Frank. It's not that I'm against it, it's only that..."

"No pressure," she heard him say. "Do whatever seems right for you. Heck, Gloria might not even call you. I told Alvin that it was okay with me, but it was really up to you."

Trudy paused, thinking about how to answer. Frank finished the food on his plate and took a last gulp of coffee.

"Got to run, Trudy. I've got a lot of ground to cover today."

********** 

Frank strode into the Headquarters office suite at eight-fifteen. He was alone on the executive floor, save the security guard. The secretaries started at nine; the executives arrived according to what was on their calendars. Frank liked the solitude of the early morning. In a short while, it would be phones and intercoms and traffic in the halls. 

"Good morning, Mr. Bennett," Floyd greeted him. He was the security guard assigned to the executive floor. He was an aging, black man, gaunt with black-rimmed glasses and graying hair. As part of the upstairs security force, his uniform was a navy blazer, gray slacks and striped tie. A Western Chemical logo emblazoned the breast pocket of his blazer. He had an unobtrusive desk in an alcove at reception where he logged every person in and out and there was a direct line to the main security office, if he ever needed it. "Good morning, yourself," Frank called back.

"You're in early," Floyd observed, following Frank through the corridor to unlock his door. It was a familiar litany, repeated each day Frank was in the office. "How was your trip?"

"Fine; busy as always," Frank answered. "You know, it was almost as hot in New York as it is here."

"Almost, but not quite," Floyd argued, continuing the drill. "Here's some coffee to get you started." He set a steaming styrofoam cup on Frank's desk, from his private supply, as was his custom. 

"Thanks, Floyd," Frank said. "This will really hit the spot. Just don't tell Jeannette."

Floyd laughed at the warning repeated for the thousandth time. Jeannette was Frank's secretary, and assumed responsibility for all of Frank's office needs, including his morning coffee. Frank would have all traces of the bootlegged cup long gone before she arrived. 

"Have a good day," Floyd said as he left to let Frank get to work.

Frank took a quick look through the two days' mail that Jeannette had set neatly on his desk. Nothing was urgent so he set it all aside. He turned his attention to the little slips of pink memos arranged neatly next to where the mail had been. He found the one he was looking for. It was from Jeannette.

"Finance Committee Members set for teleconference at ten-thirty." Frank nodded his approval. He took a yellow legal pad from his briefcase that had his notes from the previous day. He began editing them and adding new notes to it. 

Jeannette had been Frank's secretary ever since he was in his earlier post of Corporate Controller and he occupied a smaller office at the other end of the executive hallway. Frank hadn't thought twice about bringing her up the ladder with him. She could still wield a mean word processor, but most of the time she delegated that to one of the younger secretarial staff. She still processed all his confidential material and there was a natural chemistry between them that made everything work just right.  

"Coffee the usual way?" Frank looked up with a start. It was Jeannette arriving for the day. He hadn't realized how long he had been poring over his worksheet on the yellow pad. He quickly swept aside the empty Styrofoam cup. He didn't think she'd seen it.

"Why, um, yes-please, Jeannette," Frank stammered. "But before you do that, come in for a second and close the door."

Jeannette pulled the door shut behind her and took a seat in the chair in front of Frank's desk without speaking.

"First," Frank instructed, "would you let Tyler Smith know that I need him to sit in on this teleconference with the Finance Committee. Tell him it's very important, and I'll need ten minutes to brief him in advance." Jeannette nodded. "Next, I need to meet with all available Senior VP's as soon as possible after the teleconference is finished—fifteen or twenty minutes. Don't tell them the reason; I'll explain everything in the meeting. We'll have the meeting right here in the office. Let me know who can't make it, and I'll get to them by phone later in the day."

"Yes, Frank," Jeannette answered in her usual, soft, unhurried way. "I'll get on it right away." It had taken months before Frank had convinced her to call him by his first name. She still refused to do so when anyone else could hear her. Whichever name she used, her voice was always soothing. 

"Whew! That's the sexiest voice in the universe." Frank forgot himself momentarily; he recovered quickly. Jeannette rose to leave.

"Wait, there's one more thing. It's the reason for all these meetings and conferences. Alvin and I met with the underwriters of the new stock offering the day before yesterday. We decided it would be best to put it on the shelf for a while."

"I see," Jeannette replied and Frank was sure that she did.

"It won't be secret for long," Frank explained. "It will be announced in the Wall Street Journal soon. You need to know about it so that you can handle it if it comes up. If you get wind of it in any way, try to squash it, if you can, and be sure to let me know."

"I'll do that," Jeannette said, allowing herself a slight smile at Frank's confidence. "And, do you still want your coffee the usual way?"

"Sure thing," Frank answered. "By the way—Good Morning!" Frank watched her as she left his office.

Most people thought Jeannette was in her late thirties. Frank would have, too, except he'd seen her personnel folder and knew that she was forty-six. She was tall—not as tall as Trudy, of course—and was long and slender, just like Trudy. She was different from Trudy in some ways, too. She was long-divorced, having one grown child. She had jet black hair, neatly arranged with only tiny whispers of gray. It framed her cheekbones that rode high on her face in the classic way and if she wore any makeup it was done in a way that didn't show. She had an unassuming elegance and reserve. Her looks and quiet manner created a pleasing, sexual aura that any man could see if he cared to notice. She may have been aware of her allure, but she never flaunted it, either in her manner of dress or speech or body language and that served to intensify her appeal.

Another difference was that her skin was much darker than Trudy's, a coffee kind of color. When Frank first promoted her, the racial factor set off some vibrations. Over the years they seemed to have mostly withered away. Whether they had or not, Frank didn't care, and hoped that Jeannette didn't either. They had never discussed it.

************* 

Tyler Smith had been briefed. He and Frank sat together in the office nursing their coffees waiting for Jeanette to finish stringing the conference call together. Tyler was a Corporate VP and General Counsel. He also had the title of Corporate Secretary and Investor Relations was in his portfolio. 

"Sorry that I couldn't get to you before the decision was made the other day," Frank said to Tyler.

Tyler shrugged it off. "It sounds like a no-brainer to me, Frank. Sometimes these things come up all of a sudden. Anyway, I trust your judgment."

"Thanks," Frank mumbled, then took another swig of coffee.

Tyler and Frank worked together often because of their respective positions. They got on well, knowing when to step forward or to remain in the background, depending upon the situation and their own expertise. Tyler started in his position at about the time that Frank became Controller. It was Tyler who most strongly urged the Board to promote Frank to CFO. As he told the Board, Franks' tough, by-the-book approach would serve the Company well in the environment created by Sarbanes-Oxley.

"By the way, how's Ashley doing?" Frank inquired. 

"I guess I should find out," Tyler admitted. "I've been giving so much time to the job that we haven't spent much time together lately."

"It's easy for that to happen," Frank agreed. "I try not to..."

"Conference call ready, sirs," Jeannette interrupted through the intercom.

"Come on in and take the minutes, if you please, Jeannette," Frank called back into the speaker.

"Hello—hello, can anybody hear me?" a voice on the speaker phone blurted out. 

"Loud and clear, Jim," Frank answered back. "This is Frank Bennett speaking and I've got Tyler Smith with me and my secretary, Jeannette Parker, to take minutes."

"Very good," answered the voice in the speaker. 

"I'll turn on the recorder now, if that's alright," Frank called back.

"May as well call the roll," Sweeney replied. Jim Sweeney was a retired Executive Vice- President of a major oil company and Chairman of the Finance Committee of the Western Chemical Board. "Why don't you do the honors, Tyler?"

Of the five members, three were marked in attendance. They were Sweeney, Detlef Mueller, a German banking executive, and Simon Lambert, a retired business school dean. The others weren't available on short notice. Frank wasn't a member of the Committee, or a member of the Board. 

"So, we've got a quorum," Sweeney said. "The floor, so to speak, is all yours, Frank."

Frank moved his chair closer to the speaker and cleared his throat. "Alvin and I were in New York this week to meet with the underwriters of our stock offering," he began. He paused, thinking that there might be a question coming over the line. There was none, so he continued.

"We've all seen the condition of the Stock Market lately. The investment bankers believe, and Alvin and I agree, that in the current market circumstances our proposed stock offering at this time would be a disaster. We're recommending that we put the registration on the shelf until the market rebounds." There was silence on the line. "I hate to give bad news, gentlemen, but there it is," Frank added, trying to get a response.

"That is bad news," Lambert said.

"How bad is it?" Sweeney asked. "What are the numbers?"

"When we planned this, we believed that the Company should trade at $65 per share in a normal market," Frank reminded them. "At this time, considering the dilutive effects of the offering, the best that we could hope for would be $43. We don't see it getting much better anytime soon."

"That means we would lose over a third of what we expected," Sweeney said.

"But what about the R&D facility?" Lambert protested. "It's critical to satisfy our long-term objectives."

"Gentlemen, I am concerned about zee merger vith Wertheim Werke," Mueller protested in his German accent. "Vee haf vorked very hard to gain a footing in zee EU market, ja? I fear vat vill happen if vee delay."

"Alvin is in Germany talking to the Wertheim directors at this moment to explain our situation and see if he can buy some time. As regards the R&D facility, I made inquiries with potential lenders about interim lines of credit until we actually get the stock proposal off the ground," Frank explained.

"Ja, ja," Mueller scowled, "but zee Vertheim people expect cash, not excuses."

"Perhaps we should consider a stock-for stock deal at the $65 valuation," Frank suggested. "That would make the stock market issue moot."

"We have to be sure that the market understands that it's because of the general price level, not lack of confidence in our numbers," Sweeney added.

"That's right..." Frank began.

"Zat is, if vee don't perform zee new issue," Mueller interrupted. "I still belief zat vee have to..."

"No—no!" Sweeney insisted. "We can't believe the Company is worth $65 and sell ourselves out for $43. It's against the shareholders' interest."

"If vee don't take acshone, BASF or Bayer vill," Mueller argued. "And vee'll be shut out."

"They don't have that kind of spare cash, either," Frank said. "European markets are just as depressed as ours."

"So what were you saying about the forecast?" Sweeney asked Frank.

"Operations-wise, everything is fine. We have to redo it for some below-the-line items that will come up because of holding off on the stock issuance as we expected."

"We'll leave that in your hands," Sweeney said. "I'll take care of communicating this to the rest of the Board and the missing Finance Committee members, too. From my seat in the house, you and Alvin did what you had to."

The parties hung up. Frank breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'll get these minutes typed up," Jeannette said and then took her leave.

"That went better than I expected," Frank confided to Tyler, who had remained behind. 

"I thought it would be okay," Tyler answered. "Everything you said made sense. I wouldn't sweat Mueller. He's got his own agenda with respect to the expansion in the EU countries."

"I know," Frank said. "I tried to get Alvin to rethink that whole deal over breakfast the other day. I dunno if I got very far."

"You might get your wish, anyway," Tyler told him. "Mueller's right; Wertheim won't have much patience and I doubt if they'll go for stock-for-stock."

"That's probably true," Frank said. "I'm pretty sure we can swing the credits for the R&D facility, but never even close for the merger."

********* 

The meeting with the senior VP's went less well than with the Directors. Frank's chief antagonist was Jason Lowell, the Chief Technology Officer, who headed up Research and Development. He was younger than most of the others, with the fewest years of service. Before taking his position with Western, he was a dean at a major engineering school and took credit for reviving the program at that institution. 

"We're already late getting the R&D building started," he complained. "This delay might be too much."

"Too much for what, Jason?" Frank asked. 

"I've recruited key people based on their being on the ground floor of this new R&D thrust. If they stop believing it's going to pan out, they'll go somewhere else."

"So explain it to them," Frank replied. "I'm sure..."

"We're cramped; it's stifling," Lowell interrupted. "We're sharing space with other departments, borrowing labs." 

"You mean that your people are prima donnas," Frank shot back.

"Don't blame them, they're trained to be prima donnas," Blake Hart joked. "It's a secret oath they take when they get their PhD's." Everyone in the room laughed at the joke, even Jason. Frank was grateful for the brief moment of levity.

Blake Hart was the Chief Operating Officer of the Company. In the Western Chemical scheme, that meant that he was charged with making and selling the product. He was a kind of 'first among equals', having the most experience and in a critical post. His credentials were solid with engineering diplomas and his spotless work record in tough assignments. He was waiting for the day that Alvin conferred the President title on him.

"But there is something to this, Frank," Blake continued. "That R&D money is for things besides brick and mortar. There are patent rights to obtain and university research to fund. If we fall too far behind, we put completion of the five-year plan in jeopardy. We need those new products in the pipeline. Competition won't slow down just because we are."

Frank listened carefully and understood the wisdom. Jason crossed his arms, looking smug over picking up an ally.

"What we need in that case, Jason," Frank responded, "is a careful evaluation of priorities and costs associated with each one. If we can't get this financed all at once, then we'll have to know where to apply the dollars first."

"I'll have someone look at the commercialization aspects," Blake offered. Frank nodded.

Frank turned to Hart. "Blake, we need to look at our forecast again. I know we just did it, but if we have to back off, sooner would be better than later. If we hiccup, investors will assume we had a slip in our numbers, rather than waiting out the market. I have some below the line changes to do, myself."

"What do you mean, Frank?" Tyler asked.

"We'll have to write off some of the underwriters' fees that we had capitalized when we thought that the offering was going to go through. Interest income and expense will be different too, since we won't be handling all that cash. And, of course, there's taxes."

There's always taxes," someone yelled out, getting another laugh. 

"As you all know, I'm still looking for a new Corporate Controller," Frank explained. "I interviewed a candidate in New York a few days ago, but I don't think that he's the right guy. So, I'll be doing double duty on this. Any forecast issues, come and see me. And please don't forget, this is very confidential."

"How come you didn't hire him, Frank," Tyler called out. "Did he know more than you?" He got another laugh out of the group. 

"Something like that," Frank replied, laughing with them.

It was a good note to end on, and all the bases were covered.

"Look, Jason," Frank said as they were leaving, "I've already started working on the alternate financing for the R&D. I might need you to help with some presentations. I'll let you know."

************* 

It was another hot Texas afternoon; Gloria had once again summoned her Ladies-in-Waiting. It took only a short time for her to lay out the details of the Foundation and invite the three of them to be a part of it. Each promptly agreed to take part, not that they really had a choice. No one complained because Gloria's project sounded like fun. 




The Brass Statuettes Ch. 03



Although Gloria thought that she was breaking fresh news to the group, Brenda had already briefed Ashley and Darlene that morning. She called them individually to smooth the way, being sure to extract promises of secrecy. It was important to make sure that no one displayed any hesitance and that all were in cheerful compliance. Cohesion was important for the success of any group. It wasn't automatic; someone had to see to it. For her services Brenda asked nothing, nor did she even mention it to Gloria. She was satisfied in her role; one day she would rise higher. Gloria was their compass; Brenda was the engine that made things happen.

"I think it will be so exciting," Brenda gushed. "It'll be like being back in our college sororities."

"And we'll get to dole out all that money," Ashley added. "And all those gala benefit dinners we'll have. It surely does sound exciting."

"I think we can get a tax deduction for the costs of our gowns," Darlene said.

"Yes, indeed!" Gloria confirmed, "along with any other expenses like lunches or travel. Alvin had the lawyers set up everything just right. The Foundation is a registered charity. All donations are tax-deductible, too."

"What about an office?" Ashley asked.

"For right now, I thought that we'd run it out of the house. But, we'll need staff soon and for that we'll need an office. I think somewhere downtown."

"Western must have people in the office who do real estate," Brenda suggested.

"Good idea, Bren!" Gloria exclaimed. "I'll have Alvin to assign someone in the office to help us in their spare time."

There was a pause as each waited for one of the others to offer a new topic. 

"There's one last thing to think about," Gloria told them. "Brenda wants to invite Trudy Bennett into the group."

"Oh, no!" Ashley cried. "Little Goody Two-Shoes will ruin everything."

"She's not so little," Darlene corrected with a forced laugh. 

I didn't want to do it, either," Gloria admitted. "Brenda convinced me." Brenda felt Gloria's eyes on her, and then Ashley's and Darlene's, too. "Tell them why, Bren."

Brenda drew a deep breath as she asked herself why Gloria punished her just because she'd taken the trouble to care about this most mundane of details. It was often this way. Gloria would make her pronouncements and leave those unpleasant little tasks to Brenda. It was vexing, but Brenda accepted it as the price of turning talk into action.

"If we pass Trudy by, our husbands will wonder why," Brenda explained. She looked out on the three faces looking back at her, with expressions that half acknowledged that perhaps she had a point. The other half was waiting to be convinced the rest of the way. 

"They'll know why, too," Brenda went on, "and it will put them off. They won't risk hard feelings with Frank, especially over something like this. Remember, they're the ones who provide most of the money. We've got to welcome Trudy with open arms. Besides, after a while, Trudy should come around to our way of thinking—if we help her." She shot Gloria a reminding look; she was only re-synthesizing the material fed to her at lunch the day before. Darlene and Ashley nodded, signifying that the dawn had broken.

"Trudy's not very smart, y' know," Darlene pointed out. "Ah don't think she's evah bin t' college."

"She's smarter than you think," Brenda countered, "and if it's an issue, then we'll give her jobs that she can do—jobs that we don't want to do, ourselves."

"Makes sense," Ashley conceded. "Are you going to call her up and invite her?" 

"No," Brenda replied. "Naturally, that call should come from Gloria."

"Me?" Gloria cried in alarm. Brenda could see that she hadn't yet considered the obvious point.

"You're the head of the Foundation, our leader," Brenda explained. She stifled a sigh of frustration. "Of course, it has to come from you." Gloria slumped in her chair, acquiescing by silence.

"Then it's settled," Brenda concluded. "It will be the four of us, plus Trudy."

"That does it for business," Gloria quickly declared before more inconvenient details could pop up. "Did you all bring your suits?" Gloria took a quick glance around the table; no one said that they didn't.

"Juana," she yelled out, "we'll have our drinks at the pool."

*********** 

Each of the women had worn their suits under their casual clothing, except for Gloria, who wore her bathing suit under a beach cover-up. The four ladies formed a kind of parade as they walked from the veranda to the pool and the waiting chaises. There, they kicked off their sandals and slipped off their blouses and skirts. 

"Someone, help me with my lotion," Gloria called out as they each opened a bottle of sunscreen. Brenda jumped to the task, while Ashley and Darlene traded the same favor. Each of them wore bikinis, even Gloria. It was a good day to work on their tans.

Nearby, José had a crew of four young men helping him build a flower bed and some other landscaping tasks. The sudden appearance of four scantily clad gringas didn't escape their attention. They were well worth the look, too. Although Darlene, the youngest of them at thirty-two, was a good ten years older than the youths, the quartet inspired plenty of interest. The women in the barrios had no money or time for personal trainers and private gyms. Not only that, their women were bronze, while these had creamy, white skin that they rarely got to see. 

"'Eer are dee drinks, Señora," Juana announced, as she opened the gate to the pool area. She carried a trayful of four tumblers with a green, frothy mixture. There was a pitcher full of replenishments on the tray, too."

"I thought that we'd have Margaritas today," Gloria announced. 

"Good choice, Gloria!" Ashley spoke out in glee on behalf of the group.

"Juana," Gloria ordered, "put the pitcher in the refrigerator in the exercise room."

"I dun't 'ave de key," Juana answered. "Dee Señora has dee only key."

"You should have reminded me," Gloria scolded. She reached into the pocket of her cover-up and produced a keychain. "Here you are. I'll get them from you later. Now, put the pitcher in the refrigerator and go back to the house."

"Si Señora," Juana mumbled as she complied.

The women were left to themselves and their sun lotion. No one said anything for a few moments.

"Mah goodness," Darlene gasped. ""Ah do b'lieve that those young men are oglin' us."

Of course they are," Gloria said. "That's one reason why I moved the meeting out to the pool. Don't you want them to? You can ogle them, too, you know."

"That would be undignified!" Darlene exclaimed.

"Who the hell cares?" Brenda laughed. "It's all in fun; nothing will come of it. Besides, it's good practice for when it counts."

"Here—here," Gloria seconded the motion.

The workers had discarded their shirts long ago. Sheens of sweat shone on their dark skin. They were lean and muscled, a product of their toil. They tried hard to get a view of the women without giving themselves away—which was not easy since they were being watched, themselves. A leer or lingering gaze at the wrong moment could cost their job. 

"Watch this," Ashley told the others after taking a big gulp of her drink. She was a raven-haired beauty with pale, creamy skin. She worked hard on her figure and it worked hard for her.

She put a dollop of sunscreen in her palm, and then stretched out her other arm. The oiled hand softly glided the length of her arm to her shoulder. She repeated it on the opposite side. The white, outstretched limbs were flags calling the young men to attention. She took a little more of the lotion in her hands and started circling applications along her collarbone, and then she went lower and then a bit lower, yet. When she was sure that she had the attention of her audience, her hands smoothed the tops of her breasts spilling over her bikini top. She repeated it over and over until the boys almost had their fill. 

When she knew she had them, she lifted the strap away and slid her hand down inside the cup and left some of the sun cream there. She did it to both sides. One could imagine her hands cupping, kneading, and gently squeezing. 

"Ashley, you are just shameful," Darlene scolded, claiming the right of indignation.

"Be quiet, Darlene," Ashley answered. "I'm, just having a little fun."

"Why, you're just teasin' 'em." Darlene argued.

"Men love to be teased," Ashley said, "and believe me, girl, those are men." She cast a glance out at them, counting their muscles. "Now, for my grand finale."

Darlene's mouth fell agape as Ashley took more sunscreen in hand. She bent one leg up on the chaise, leaned forward and reached out with both hands to her ankle. The journey up the flesh of the calf began. Ashley made it go slow, so that those watching her would take in every inch of her shapely legs. 

When she reached her knee she leaned back in her chair. She kicked her leg straight up in the air, knee locked and toes pointed to the sky. She grasped her leg at the knee and moved her hands slowly down the firm thigh flesh, ever-so-close to the crotch. She did it twice. Then, she repeated the entire process with the other leg—perhaps a little more slowly.

"Just shameful," Darlene repeated, although with far less conviction than before.

"I, for one, am jealous," Brenda admitted, observing the lustful stares of the audience.

"Why don't you show them what you've got, Bren?" Ashley suggested.

"How could I follow that?" Brenda admitted. "I have a little something planned for later, but not 'til they get over your little show."

"I'll show you something," Gloria said. "Brenda, help me loosen up my bikini top. Don't untie it all the way; just loosen it so it doesn't hold me in place so tight."

After Brenda performed the request Gloria downed the rest of her Margarita and then stood up. "I'll just coil that hose for the pool filter," she announced. 

She walked slowly to it, turned face-on to the watching young men. Ashley and Brenda looked at one another in silent communication as they marveled at how Gloria could flaunt her stuff, even though she was the oldest of them. It was tools and know-how. It was a complete set—one was useless without the other.

"Go, girl!" Brenda urged her on.

Gloria bent from the waist, picked up the hose and slowly wound it into a neat coil. Her large breasts hung down and the loosened bikini top fell away just enough to allow them to sway. When she was half-done she rotated her hips slightly in rhythm to the coiling of the hose so that her breasts would pick up the motion. When she was done she paused, and then straightened and looked out at them for several seconds. She slowly sauntered back to her place and sat down.

Ashley and Brenda broke into applause. 

"I hope that you've been watching, Darlene. Next time it will be your turn," she warned. "No excuses!" Darlene turned red. The sun was hot and the Margaritas were strong. Gloria went inside to get the pitcher to refill all the glasses.

One of the men, a little older than the rest, edged closer to the pool. He was a little more heavily muscled than the others. As he drew closer the women could see the features of his face. He wore a smirk that let the women know that he was enjoying their game. He had a thin moustache and a tattoo of an Aztec symbol on his bicep.

"I think he likes you, Ashley," Brenda said. The women broke into giggling. The closer contact, seeing the expression on his face, raised their excitement to a new level. The young man stole closer. They were eye to eye and the women gasped. He paused for a moment, pursed his lips into a kiss and flexed a pectoral muscle at them, and then abruptly about-faced and sauntered back to the group, who held him hero's awe.

"Oh—Ah feel a little faint," Darlene swooned as she covered her breasts with her hands. 

Brenda leaned closer to Ashley, but asked her question loud enough for all to hear. "Ashley, what would you do if you found that one's head between your thighs?"

Ashley laughed out loud, and then thought for a second. "Nothing, Brenda, dear. I wouldn't want to interrupt what he was already doing." 

"Oh mah word!" Darlene gasped while the three others squealed in laughter. 

"Nothing except enjoy it and not let him stop," Ashley corrected. The chorus of laughing got louder. Even Darlene joined in.

"I thought you were scandalized by all this," Gloria asked her youngest pupil.

"Well, Ah am, you know. But Ah know it's all in fun between us girls. It's somehow—excitin'." she confessed.

"He's not the one I'd choose," Brenda said. "I like that slender one over there. See him? He's been watching us all this time but he's scared to death of getting caught. I think he's a virgin. I could break him in just right."

"Interesting idea," Gloria said. 

Brenda gulped down the balance of her drink. "Now it's time for my little part in this play."

She rose up from her chaise and slowly walked to the diving board, walking out and stopping at the end and paused for all to see. She dove into the water and swam the length to the shallow end. When she reached the far wall she climbed out and turned her back to her quarry and bent slightly at the waist. She reached back, traced her hand down her shapely backside. She inserted a finger under the clinging spandex at the crotch of the bikini bottoms and rearranged it properly over her cheek, and then did the same to the other. She walked slowly back to her chaise, swinging her hips all the way.

"Good points for originality," Gloria pointed out. Ashley and Darlene were applauding. The youth's face could not be seen, but they assumed that he was gulping.

Juana had been watching the festivities from the kitchen window. She shook her head in disapproval and went to the veranda. She spied her husband working nearby.

"¡José, José! Los chicos, ses olvidan de las camisas."

Juana stood on the veranda and saw her husband roll his eyes. She knew that he had witnessed the little theater by the pool and she knew as well that he frowned on it less than her. It wasn't the modesty of the Señora and her friends that concerned her, but her sense of dignity of the young men. She placed her hands on her hips, letting José know that she was preparing to yell again. As always, he chose to comply and preserve the peace. 

"¡Oye, Chicos!" José shouted out. "Ponerse las camisas." The youths heaved a collective sigh, but found their shirts and put them on. 

"Well, that ends that!" Brenda exclaimed as their audience evaporated. 

"It was fun while it lasted," Darlene sighed.

"Remember, Darlene," Ashley reminded, "next time it's your turn—and no excuses. Think of something really special for your first time."

"That damned Juana!" Gloria growled. Her face had turned bright red, and not from the sun. "She'll be sorry for this. I'll make Alvin let me fire them. I hate her; I hate them both. I'll have her ass on a platter if it's the last thing I do."

Brenda looked at her compatriots. She could see that Gloria's sudden rage had put them off. Gloria always seemed so cool and wise, a veneer that had to be protected. It was disconcerting to see her so out of control over a few tee shirts. Of course, Brenda had seen Gloria in ways that Ashley and Darlene had not.

"Gloria, Gloria," Brenda soothed. "We all know what a bitch Juana can be. Don't bring yourself down to her level."

Gloria slowly calmed; she was still panting. "You're so right," Brenda, dear. "Let's have another round of Margaritas."

"The pitcher's empty," Ashley informed them. "We'll have to have Juana make some more."

"I refuse to ask her for anything," Gloria hissed like a serpent.

"Well, all this flirtin' an' dirty talkin' has me...," Darlene wrinkled her nose as she searched for the proper word, "...I would say it's left me a little bit randy, if y'all know what Ah mean. I think Ah'll go now an' see if Jason came home early."

"Good idea," Ashley said. "I'm right behind you."

"Watch out, Tyler," Brenda called after her with a smirk.

"Juana drove away my friends," Gloria pouted as she slumped in her chaise. She stared straight ahead for a full minute, not uttering a word. "Aren't you going, too," she finally asked Brenda.

"No, I won't leave you," Brenda replied in a soft voice. She found something to brighten the mood. "We have some time to ourselves now. A workout in the mini-gym would be just the thing." She got up and started to make her way before Gloria had a chance to answer. She peeked over her shoulder and Gloria was following. Brenda was already fumbling with the tie behind her bikini top. This time, Brenda promised herself, she'd get naked before Gloria had a chance to stop her.

************* 

Dear Readers,

Thanks for reading. I hope you're enjoying the story so far. I'm always interested in your feedback, so drop me a line if you have any thoughts on what you just read.

AW 



The Brass Statuettes Ch. 04



© Copyright 2007

Chapter 4—Our Little Pleasures

The next day Gloria rose early as Juana expected. It was Friday, workout day. Her private trainer would be there in an hour. Gloria liked to have breakfast and stretch first.

"Una toronga para la Señora," Juana chanted as she set the sectioned half-grapefruit in front of her mistress. "Dee toast weel be ready in a mee-nute."

Gloria ate alone. Alvin wasn't due in from Europe until the afternoon. He'd probably stop at the office after that. She was painted into a skin-tight leotard. Her sports bra pressed against the fabric. There were cups built into the leotard, but Gloria needed more support. She wasn't going for fashion; this was serious and it was business. Her looks meant a lot to her and it was harder and harder to keep her shape as the years ticked by. By all accounts, she had done a credible job.

"Pan integral tostado, nada de mantequilla," Juana announced as she set the small plate of whole wheat toast, without butter, on the table. Gloria didn't answer; Juana didn't expect her to. It would be an admission by Gloria that she understood the few simple Spanish words of the morning meal. Juana knew that Gloria understood them, and she used the ploy to force Gloria to enact her charade—or to abandon it. It was guerrilla warfare as an art form.

"¿Mas de café?" Juana asked, but started pouring before receiving an answer. Then, she switched to English. "Weel d'are be anytin' else, Señora Warner."

"No, Juana," Gloria answered. "You can go."

Gloria didn't look up as she dismissed Juana, and the servant shuffled away. Gloria ate and sipped her coffee as she perused the morning paper. There was almost nothing of interest; there seldom was. Gloria checked it everyday just the same. As she spooned the final wedge of grapefruit she glanced at her watch. It was time to go to the mini-gym and stretch before her workout. There was no point in wasting the trainer's time with preliminaries.

"When Raul gets here, let him know I'm already in the mini-gym," she yelled to Juana. 

"Si, Señora," Juana called back. She was in the dining room, polishing the furniture. 

Before long, a familiar car drew up to the Warner house. It was older, but appearing in good shape. Whoever owned it had protected it from telltale dents and crumples, and it had been recently through the carwash. The driver's door opened and a man got out, carrying a gym bag. 

Raul Sandoval was thirty-three years old. He looked exactly that. He made no pretense to hide his age, not wishing to appear too young for his profession, or too old to be past his prime. Marketing was as important as knowledge in his business. 

He had jet black hair, straight and regularly trimmed. He combed it neatly, parted on the side and had a thin moustache that he kept looking just right. He wore a white polo shirt and fitted white linen trousers. He wasn't very tall, had a wiry musculature and a thin waist. He strode to the house. Juana had seen him drive up and opened the door before he had a chance to ring the bell. 

"Buenos dias," he said when she opened the door.

"Dee Señora ees een dee heemnasium," she informed him. She frowned and motioned him inside. Juana never spoke in her native tongue to him. She didn't show him the way; he had been there enough times to be able to find it for himself.

************* 

"Good morning, Señora Warner," Raul said as he stepped into the gym. Gloria was sitting on the floor with her legs straightened and spread out. She was leaning forward, grabbing her toes. "Finished stretching?" He had only a trace of an accent, much less than Juana and José.

"Yes, Raul," she answered. "I'm afraid I must weigh a ton this week. We had a big party last Friday night and I had a luncheon on Wednesday."

"Any Margaritas by dee pool?"

"Maybe a few," she answered, blushing with guilt. "I tried not to overdo it."

"Past dee lips an' to dee hips," he scolded in a glib kind of way.

"A few couldn't hurt that much," she pleaded.

"We will see." Raul took Gloria's hand to help her to her feet and escorted her to the scale. "Only a pound and a half over last week," he assured her. "We'll work it off."

Raul had a talent for gently leading his clients through their weekly tortures. It took more than knowledge of rowing machines and belly crunches to be in his business. There was a psychological aspect, too. Gloria was one his longest established and best customers. 

Over the next hour Gloria rowed and pumped her stationary bicycle, bent, stretched and crunched. Raul pushed and guided her through all of it. Her face moistened with perspiration; sweat soaked through her leotard. Her skin flushed. The bicycle was the final step in the routine, and the hardest. 

"Only two more minutes, Señora Warner," Raul called to her, looking at his stop watch. 

"Thank God!" Gloria gasped as she kept on pedaling.

"You should repeat this workout every other day," Raul reminded her. "Don't wait until Friday."

"Sometimes I do," she struggled to exhale the answer.

"Okay—time's up!" Raul called out. Gloria ceased pedaling and slumped over the handle bars. "I think we took care of those few pounds."

Gloria climbed off the bike and staggered to the massage table. Raul took a rolling pin from the equipment cabinet and Gloria hopped onto the table and lay down on her back. Raul began rolling the pin across her thighs. He was pressing down hard, starting with the front of the thighs. After that, he'd have her roll over and he'd do the backs.

"Chu work so hard to take care of your body, Señora Warner. We can't let any cellulite get started. I'm sorry if I have to hurt you a leetle."

"It doesn't hurt," Gloria answered. Her breathing had nearly returned to normal. "It actually feels kind of good."

"You appear un poco tense, today, Señora Warner." 

"You have no idea," Gloria sighed. "I have so many things on my mind."

"Perhaps I would be able to be of further service."

"Do you have time for the Deluxe Workout today?" she asked. 

"For you, Señora, I will always make the time."

**************** 

"Then, put down that rolling pin and do what you do best," she breathed.

He put the tool aside and stepped back. She sat up and hopped from the edge of the massage table. Her leotard was still wet from sweat; she peeled it from her shoulders, baring her torso, save the sports bra. As Raul watched silently, she reached behind her back and undid the clasp. The undergarment loosened; she held it in place as she watched him watching her. 

She took her hands away from her chest, taking the bra with them.

"You like these, don't you," she whispered at him.

She saw Raul's eyes, wide and fixed on her breasts. She didn't have to look down at them to know what he saw. She knew that her nipples were rigid from anticipation; the skin was still flushed and slick from her exercise. They were large by any standard, and by many standards they did well against the tendency to sag brought on by age and size. She used them often, whether to tease the gardeners or display over the top of the bodice of her evening gown at gala affairs. They made men want her.

Without a word, she pushed the leotard down the rest of the way, stepped out of the garment and tossed it aside. There were no panties; the lining of the exercise garment took care of it. She was nude. She glanced down at Raul's crotch, and she found his response that she hoped for. She felt her heart beat faster. 

"You want to suck these," she said, lifting her breasts like an offering. 

"Yes, Señora," Raul answered. "They are beautiful."

"You shall, Raul, but not just yet." 

She stood before him in the nude, knowing that he was staring at her, drinking in the sight of her breasts, her hourglass body, the patch of pubic hair. She hoped that her sex was glistening with her slick moisture—she thought it was. She spread her legs slightly to help any built up wetness ooze out. She knew that Raul wanted to begin undressing himself, but she wouldn't allow him—yet.

She was paying for the time; it would proceed as she would dictate. The orchestrated delay was a part of the pleasure. It pleased her to stand nude in front of him, making him wait. She reveled in his impatient panting; in her control of it.

"Do you want me?" she posed the question to him.

"Oh, yes, Mrs. Warner," Raul replied. He was breathing ever more deeply. "Please let me."

"Strip," she commanded.

Raul kicked off his shoes, peeled off his socks. He took the bottom of his polo shirt and lifted it over his head. His body was lean, as promised by the tight-fitting shirt. Not counting his armpits, it was free of body hair, save a strip that ran from between his nipples to his navel and disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants. The black hair stood out on his tawny skin. He unbuckled his belt and unhooked the fastening of his trousers. She stopped him as he began to pull them down.

"Let me," she ordered. She slid down the zipper and then hooked her thumbs under the trousers and his underwear, pulled them out over his erection, and then fell to her knees as she yanked them down. She was face to face with his erection. She stared at it as it bounced up and down slightly, an involuntary reaction, as she breathed on it. Clear fluid oozed out of the slit.

"You'd like me to suck it, wouldn't you?" she whispered.

The penis bounced a few times at the suggestion.

"I would like it, if you wish, Señora." He was wincing in his struggle to hold back 

Gloria reached out and touched the erection lightly, ran her fingers up and down its length. She spread the oozing fluid over the crown. Raul groaned. She cupped his scrotum, caressing the velvet skin with practiced fingertips. Raul spread his legs apart to grant access.

"I will suck you," she looked up at him as she spoke. She saw his eyes grow wide. "Someday..."

Raul closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. More droplets appeared and Gloria spread them as before.

"Do you have the condoms?" she asked.

"They are in my satchel, as always."

"Stay there," she ordered, and then rose to her feet and walked the few steps to the gym bag that he always brought with him. She searched for a few seconds and brought out a foil packet. In a moment she was back in front of him on her knees. 

"You do want me?" she asked.

"Yes, yes."

She tore open the foil packet, took the circle of latex out and tossed the empty foil aside. She placed the condom over the head of his penis and slowly rolled the sheath down the shaft. She heard Raul let out a groan.

"Now Raul, don't go losing yourself on me like you did that one time. You still have a lot of work to do."

"Yes, Mrs. Warner, but you make it very hard."

She smirked, said nothing, and rose to her feet. She hopped up on the massage table and lay down on her back, bent up her knees and spread her legs. She planted her feet on the edge of the table.

"First suck on my tits, then eat me," she commanded. "After I come, I,ll get off the table and bend over it so you can give it to me good from behind."

*********** 

Raul performed his tasks well, as always. At the end, when she climaxed for the second time as he pulled her hips against his groin and buried himself deep inside her, she screamed, and then she felt him throb several times. He withdrew right away to make sure the condom didn't slip off.

"I hope no one heard me just then," she said with a sheepish grin. He said nothing, as he dressed. He deposited the used condom in a plastic sandwich bag that he also brought with him in his satchel. He would take it out with him for disposal. There was no sense in leaving evidence about, especially with Juana lurking and cleaning and observing.

Gloria regained her composure. She had put her clammy leotard back on, just for show, and over that a terrycloth robe that she kept in the mini-gym.

"I'm so glad you had time for the Deluxe Workout today," she smiled as she said it to him. "I got rid of my pound and a half, and all my tensions." She handed him his fee in hundred dollar bills. Raul nodded his thanks. "Raul, you're the best," she said.

Raul came out of the mini-gym first. Juana eyed him from the dining room as he walked lightly through the house on his way to the car. There was a scowl on her face, but she said nothing, just continued her polishing. 

When she was certain he was gone, Gloria emerged in her turn. She was wearing her terrycloth robe, but left it open so that the leotard was visible underneath. She had thought about dunking herself in the pool. She could have stripped off the leotard and dove into the cool water naked. It would have suited her, but was out of the question with José working not far away, trimming the hedges. She would have dove in with the leotard on. The thin, stretch fabric would have outlined her body and become nearly transparent after the dunking. It wasn't worth it. José was working alone that morning. If he had a crew of young men working like the day before, she might have done it.

She, instead, decided to take a shower and went back into the house. She passed by the staircase that led to the upstairs bedrooms and sought out Juana in the dining room. 

"I'm going upstairs to take a shower," she told her, standing in front of the maid long enough to display the sweaty leotard still on under her open robe. 

"Weel Señor Alvin arrive home soon?" Juana asked. 

"Tonight," Gloria answered, then turned and went upstairs.

**************** 

When Frank worked through lunch Jeannette ate at her desk. She always kept a cup of yogurt in reserve in the refrigerator in the kitchenette at the rear of the office suite. It was one of those many days it came in handy. 

Frank hadn't deliberately set out to ruin the lunch hour. Frank spent most of the morning on the phone with the auditors and the lawyers wrapping up the details on the shelving of the offering registration with the SEC. That was done for the time being. After that he dove into the quest for the interim financing for the R&D expansion. In his Central Time office, the noon hour was too valuable to waste. He could catch the New York guys before they went to lunch and the West coast bankers as they were starting their days. At half past the hour he remembered his nearly forgotten secretary.

"Jeannette, you should go to lunch," he called over the intercom. 

That's alright," she answered. "I'm doing fine right here. Call me if you need me."

Frank was about to insist, but experience taught him that such an order would not be obeyed. He shook his head, wondering how he got to be so lucky. He thought of something else and pressed the intercom again.

"Be sure to take an extra hour tomorrow."

"I certainly shall, Frank," she replied with some levity in her sultry voice. "Tomorrow is Saturday."

"Foiled again!" he exclaimed to himself. He would try to make it up to her somehow. 

He could have had Jeannette put through the calls for him, but it seemed pretentious when he had the numbers sitting in his pc phonebook immediately at his disposal. He had just got off the phone with Citicorp in New York, trying to find Paul Riley, but found out that he was on vacation. He was about to put in a call to someone he knew at Morgan-Chase when the intercom interrupted again.

"Mr. Bennett, Mr. Sweeney is in the office and asks if he could see you."

Frank was surprised, not having expected any visitors. He wasn't about to refuse Jim Sweeney. He was a Director, after all, and Chairman of the Finance Committee. In Frank's pecking order he rated the privilege of coming in without an appointment. Jeannette's addressing him by his 'Mr. Bennett' name meant that Sweeney was right there in front of her. Frank threw on his suit jacket and hurried to the door.

"Hi, Frank!" Jim Sweeney was an ebullient, rotund man of about seventy and he thrust out his hand at Frank. "I just got back to Houston from Denver. Just came from the airport—sent the Missus home with the luggage." Frank took Sweeney's offered hand and shook it. 

"Can Jeannette get you a cup of coffee?" Frank asked.

"Naw, too late in the day for me." 

"C'mon in, then." Frank motioned him into his office and closed the door behind them. "If it won't be coffee, how about three fingers?"

"Now you're talkin'," the older man agreed.

Sweeney sat in a leather chair in the alcove of the office, while Frank went to the mini bar to pour the bourbon into a tumbler over ice, and a lesser amount of scotch on the rocks for him. "Anything in it?" he asked.

"Just a splash of branch," Sweeney replied, "but don't drown it." Frank left his straight over ice and brought the two glasses and sat in the chair across from his guest.

"So that's your regular secretary?" he asked. Frank nodded. "Fine lookin' woman—really fine." They clinked glasses and each took a swallow.

"If I didn't have her to rely on, I don't know what I'd do?" Frank acknowledged. "Most secretaries would have been out to lunch at this time."

"She married or attached, or anythin' like that?" Sweeney asked. Frank shook his head. "Maybe I'll send her some flowers in a few days," he went on.

"She'd probably send them on to your wife with a note from you," Frank said.

"Uh, yes—um, well," the older man stammered and shifted in his chair, "let me get to the point."

They each took another gulp of whiskey. Frank knew it had to be about the teleconference the day before. He wondered why it rated a special visit. It was too late to turn back. 

"I just wanted to say that you did a first rate job in this whole stock issue problem," Sweeney started.

Frank shrugged. "I was just..."

"No false modesty! You had it down cold, and you were decisive all the way," Sweeney insisted, holding up his hand like a traffic cop. "You know, I was one of the directors who sided with Alvin. I thought we needed a CFO with more experience. Alvin told me that he changed his mind about you, and now I have, too."

"Thanks, Jim" Frank replied.

"Now, I read between the lines that you're still not convinced about this Germany buyout deal," Sweeney continued.

"I had a chance to give my views on it," Frank answered. "Now that the Board has decided to go ahead, I'll do whatever I can to help pull it off. It's too late to debate it."

"But Alvin called me last night and told me that you're still against it," Sweeney retorted. "He told me that the two of you discussed it the other day."

"True, but that was just an informal discussion between Alvin and me. I'm still..."

"Look, I'm with you," Sweeney went on. "We shouldn't be lookin' to Europe to grow. It's old and tired. 'Elegant Decline', I've heard it described, and that's what I believe. Asia is where it is. We're not there like we should be, and there's a lot we could do right here in the States."

"I doubt that Herr Mueller would agree with you," Frank said.

"Aw, let him go stick his head in a bucket o' shit!" Sweeney exclaimed. "He couldn't give a rip about Western Chemical. He just wants to drag it and our cash into Germany and show it off like those trophy sheepskins he's got plastered all over the wall in his office. You heard him on the phone yesterday." 

"It was the Board's decision," Frank reminded him.

"I know, and decisions can be reversed. This delay in the stock issue will be just the wedge to give me another shot at it. We only need to make Alvin see it our way. You did a good job of that at breakfast the other day."

"We wouldn't even need the new stock without the buyout," Frank pointed out.

"What about the R&D?" Sweeney asked. "How much is that gonna take?"

"We need about four hundred fifty million for everything," Frank said. "We could raise it through the regular channels. We could fund part of it through earnings if we didn't have to do it all at once."




The Brass Statuettes Ch. 04



Jim Sweeney poured down the last of his bourbon. "This is sounding better all the time," he declared. 

"I won't sneak around; I won't deceive the Board, or Alvin," Frank warned.

"Leave that part to me," Sweeney told him. As he rose to take his leave he leaned closer to Frank. "You don't think your secretary would like..." Frank cut him off by shaking his head. Sweeney shrugged his shoulders and then slapped Frank on the back. "I had to ask one more time. It's one of my little pleasures." 

Frank escorted him to the door. "Jeannette, would you call the livery and have one of our cars take Mr. Sweeney to his residence, please?"

********** 

As soon as Jim Sweeney was properly dispatched Frank turned to Jeannette once again.

"Would you find Aaron Fishman and tell him to come to my office on the double, please?"

Jeannette was just returning from escorting Sweeney to the elevators. She was walking toward Frank in her skirt and satin blouse. Her heels and slender figure made her look taller than she was. 

"Right away, Frank," she answered in her soft, unhurried tone.

Frank went back into his office and when he had closed the door he shook his head. He could understand how her charms could put the bite on Sweeney. He was sure that Jeannette had done nothing to get Jim aroused. She could make a man's blood boil just by being herself.

As he was finishing his private tribute to his secretary, Jeannette's voice came through the intercom.

"Aaron Fishman is here, Mr. Bennett."

Frank and Aaron had worked together before when Frank was Corporate Controller. Aaron was a Financial Analyst in the Controller's office, the best one they had. He was thirty, a small man except a bit overweight. He had dark hair and white, pasty skin. He was four years out of Rice with an MBA. 

"Lose the suit coat and have a chair, Aaron. We've got work to do."

The subordinate did as Frank ordered.

"Want a coffee?" Frank asked. Aaron shook his head. "Juice, Coke?"

"I just had lunch," Aaron said.

"We've got to redo the forecast—right away and on the Q-T," Frank said.

"But we just..." the young man started to protest. Frank interrupted him.

"Doesn't matter. Put away your other projects and concentrate on this." Frank went on to explain about the aborted stock offering and search for interim borrowings.

"This forecast has to be tight," Frank went on. "There's no slack, no margin for error. Test every assumption. We'll have to write off the capitalized costs of the offering. Bake that in; redo all the cash numbers and the interest that goes along with them. And, of course there's taxes."

"There always taxes," Aaron joked. "Do the write-offs go above or below the operating line?"

"Put it below for now, but they'll probably end up in G and A. Save those kinds of questions aside and we'll ask the auditors all at once." Aaron nodded that he understood. "Work with Blake Hart and Jason Lowell. They're expecting you."

"Where can I get the details that went into the last forecast?" Aaron asked.

"They're locked in the files in the Controller's office. I'll tell Jeannette to unlock the files for you. In fact, since the Controllers office is vacant, why don't you use it while you're working on this? It will be more convenient since you'll be right here on this floor and it will be easier to keep things under wraps."

"Sounds fine to me," Aaron said, grinning. 

"Don't get any ideas," Frank warned. "It's just for this project, so don't let me catch you with your feet up on the desk. You'll get there someday, but you're not ready."

"I understand," Aaron answered. His grin changed to an embarrassed smile at having betrayed his private thoughts.

"I'd like to be able to present something preliminary to Alvin on Monday afternoon. Just the hard numbers we can get quickly by backing out all the stock-related details. That means that we'd have to review it on Monday morning. Can you be ready? You'll have to work tomorrow."

"Um, Saturdays are a bit of a problem..."

"Oh, sorry—I forgot," Frank said. "I'll have Jeannette write you a pass to the Executive Suite for Sunday."

"Sunday will be fine," Aaron answered.

"One last thing," Frank said, leaning forward in his chair to make the point. "This has to be kept confidential. If word of the delay leaks out onto the Street before the change in registration is filed, there will be hell to pay from the SEC. So, be extra careful. You can discuss it with Jeannette or me, Mr. Warner, or the two vice-presidents that I mentioned. That's it!"

"I'll just move a few things to the Controller's office and get started," Aaron said. "I'll be ready on Monday morning."

"I know you will, Aaron," Frank replied. "That's why you're on this and not someone else."

Frank escorted him to the door. "Aaron, one more thing," Frank called to him as he was leaving. "Don't forget to have a nice weekend." The young man laughed as he made his way to the elevator.

"Reminds me of my younger days," Frank said to Jeannette.

"Yes, it does," she replied. "I remember them, too." 

**************** 

Gloria was seated on the veranda; Brenda was in the chair opposite her. They were sipping on iced tea, without the vodka. Gloria turned over a new leaf on every workout day.

"How was your exercise session with Raul?"

"Strenuous," Gloria replied. "I feel muscles that I haven't used in a long time."

"Is it a good feeling, or does it hurt?" Brenda teased.

"Some of both, I suppose." It gave the women an excuse to giggle.

"How about the task at hand," Brenda insisted.

"Oh, I just don't feel like callin' her right now, Bren."

"I knew that you wouldn't, so I came over to help you," Brenda answered.

"Well, it's difficult, you know. I don't really want to. We could do just fine without her."

"But we already discussed it. We really need to do this," Brenda said. "Just don't promise her anything or make her believe it will take up all her time. We'll find something harmless for her to do, and in the meantime, we'll get her to come around to us."

"I don't care if she comes around or not," Gloria said, crossing her arms. 

Brenda knew that Gloria would make a last attempt to be difficult. She decided to be patient. She sat motionless said nothing, just waited for Gloria to give in as she knew she would.

"Okay, okay," Gloria surrendered. "I'll call her. She's probably not home, anyway. Where's Juana—I need the phone book."

"I've got the number right here," Brenda said, and she produced a slip of paper from her purse and handed Gloria her cell phone.

"You seem to have thought of everything!" Gloria said with a sneer.

"Be nice," Brenda insisted. "You know this is for the best."

Gloria frowned as she punched the number into the phone. "Smile," Brenda whispered and turned up the corners of her lips with her fingers like a kindergarten teacher. Gloria gave back a mock smile. Brenda listened while Gloria spoke.

"Hello, is this Trudy? This is Gloria."

**pause**

"Gloria Warner." 

**pause**

"I just wanted to call you to tell you how beautiful you looked in your blue gown."

**pause**

"Now Trudy, don't be modest. We'll have to go shopping together some time so you can tell me where you got that gown."

**pause**

Gloria mouthed 'Dillard's' at Brenda after she made that comment and Brenda shook her finger back at her in mock disapproval.

**pause**

"Trudy, actually I called for a different reason. I want to invite you to join the Western Chemical Community Foundation. We think it would be wonderful if you would join us."

**pause**

"You would help us with the money raising and be on the Evaluation Committee when we decide how to pass the money around."

**pause**

"Well, we just finished a Daycare-Preschool Center in the Mexican Community."

**pause**

"There would be Brenda and me and some of the other executives' wives, and you, of course. Please say 'yes'."

**pause**

"You will—oh, how wonderful! I'll call you next week to give you a schedule of the meetings."

Gloria hung up the phone. "I hope you're satisfied," she hissed at Brenda. 

"You know that you did the right thing," Brenda reminded her.

"We'll have to be careful what she works on. I don't want her horning in where she's not wanted. We went over that on Wednesday."

"Don't worry, Gloria. We'll see to it—and I have an idea already."

******************** 

TO BE CONTINUED

Dear Readers,

Thanks again for reading. I hope you're enjoying the story so far. Be sure to send me your comments. I'm always interested to read them and I'll respond if you include an address that will enable me to do so.

AW



The Brass Statuettes Ch. 05



Chapter 5—Different Points of View

On Saturday morning Trudy rose early to eat breakfast with Frank. She decided not to wake the girls; they would have been grouchy for having been rousted at that hour. She wanted to talk with Frank, anyway.

"Frank, before you leave to play golf, I thought that I'd let you know—Gloria Warner called me up yesterday."

"No kidding," he answered, "it must have been about the charity foundation."

"How did you know?"

"Don't you remember? We talked about it a few days ago."

"Well, I didn't think she'd call so soon," Trudy protested. "Anyway, she started out by telling me how much she liked my gown last Friday night. I knew right away that I was in for a crock."

"Your gown was real nice, Trudy."

"I know you said so, but I heard what she said that night when she thought I didn't hear."

"Maybe she was counting the glasses of champagne you drank and figured that you wouldn't remember."

"Maybe so," Trudy said. A grin spread across her face. "It worked out alright for you."

"True enough," Frank admitted. "I didn't notice any complaints coming from you. Anyway, I think that Gloria was just trying to butter you up."

Trudy was still grinning. "Maybe I was too drunk to complain." She paused to gauge Frank's reaction. He remained expressionless, like the sphinx. "Maybe not!" she recanted with a laugh, and then Frank laughed along with her. 

"After the thing about the gown, she dropped the bombshell and asked me to be on the board of her charity. I tried to say no, but she kept pressing. Finally, I broke down and said that I'd do it," she said, and then heaved a sigh.

"So, what's the problem?" Frank asked. "You might like it. I know Gloria can be a pain, but she does have some pretty good projects. I think she just finished funding a daycare or something like that. They get a pretty good annual grant from Western." 

"I don't know what..."

"Give it a chance, Trudy! You might like it, after all. You were always good with kids and you've got a lot of common sense. You'll probably be the best one they've got."

"It's not just Gloria," Trudy explained. "Brenda Hart and Ashley Smith are in it, too. There's another one by the name of Darlene something. You know how Gloria's girls are when they get together."

"That would be Darlene Lowell," Frank informed her. "She's Jason Lowell's wife. He just took over as head of R&D." He stopped and gave her an impatient look. "You can handle it, Trudy. If you don't like it after a while, then quit. It's really up to you."

"But why did they ask me?" she asked. "I've never fit in with that crowd. They've all been to college. They talk about different things than what I know about."

"I don't know," Frank answered. "I suppose that Gloria didn't want to leave anyone out. Maybe she likes you more than you think. I say again, if you don't want to do it, don't do it."

"But I already said that I would."

"Yes you did. Give it a try and see how it goes."

Trudy said nothing more. She was frowning, resting her chin in her hands with her elbows on the table. Frank slurped down the rest of his coffee. "Gotta' go," he announced. "We can talk about it later." He rose from the table and kissed her on the forehead before he left. 

************ 

Aaron Fishman met with Frank first thing on Monday morning, as promised.

"Did you have any trouble getting into the Executive Suite yesterday?" Frank asked.

"None at all. The pass Jeannette gave me was all I needed and I spoke to Floyd before I left on Friday."

"Any trouble at home for having to work on Sunday?" 

"Not too bad," the young man answered, "a little heartburn, but she knows that it comes with the territory now and then."

"You kept the details to yourself, didn't you?" Aaron nodded that he had.

"I know the feeling," Frank assured him. "Been there—done that. I wouldn't have asked you if it weren't necessary."

"I understand," Aaron said. "I was glad for the Sunday pass so that we could go to Temple on Saturday."

"Let me see what you've got."

Aaron opened a folder and took out two copies of reports he'd produced on his pc over the weekend. "This is your copy. We can mark it up and I'll make the changes for your meeting with Mr. Warner this afternoon."

"Change in plans—Alvin wants the meeting later this morning," Frank corrected. "You should plan to go in there with me. We've only got time to go over the summary now. That's all Alvin will want to do, anyway. He'll assume that we're on firm footing with the details behind it."

"This is only the first pass, like you said," Aaron reminded him.

"I know. That's what I wanted," Frank said. "I want to show Alvin the vulnerabilities so that he'll put the heat on the VP's to sharpen their pencils. Have you spoken with any of them?"

"Mr. Lowell stuck his head in the door and asked what I was doing in the Controller's office this morning," Aaron said. "I told him and that you authorized it. He didn't seem to like it very much."

"He'll just hafta' not like it," Frank replied. "Let's get to the numbers. Did you make sure to delete any effects of the Wertheim project out of the forecast?"

"That was the hard part," Aaron confided. "They're all over the place in the prior forecast. Operations has it in Capital Spending, sales and expenses; R&D has a lot of spending, too. I hope that I found it all."

"It's a good observation; we should be sure to make Alvin aware of it. When you meet with Hart and Lowell be sure to get deep into it with them."

"I made a reconciliation on a supporting analysis showing the before and after effects of taking Wertheim out. Mostly, it has the effect of increasing income in the short term because of the avoided spending in the initial year."

"Perfect, that's just what we'll need," Frank said. "When you get with Lowell, find out how much of the Wertheim spending he'll replace with new projects here in the States, and how much is truly avoided."

"I didn't forecast using any reserves to cover the write-offs, and I considered them all deductible," Aaron added.

"You did a pretty credible job on this," Frank said, "especially for having to go it alone and not having much time."

"That's what I get paid for," Aaron replied.

"C'mon, I don't wanna hear any violins," Frank cajoled. "Leave your numbers as they are. Make another set for Alvin and plan to meet in his office at eleven."

*********** 

Frank and Aaron met with Alvin at eleven, as planned. Frank laid out the numbers; Alvin caught on fast.

"You say that you've got reserves to handle the write-offs?" Alvin asked.

"Yes, if we want to use them," Frank replied.

"And I take it that you don't," Alvin surmised.

"After we announce the shelving of the offering, anyone who knows anything will know that we're going to have some write-offs because if it. They'll ask, 'what's the effect of your write-offs' and we'll say that we don't have any. Then they'll know that we covered them with reserves."

Alvin had a confused look on his face. "Is that bad?"

"I think it is for two reasons," Frank answered. "First, a portion of our reserves will be used up unnecessarily. I don't think we need to do it."

"And the second reason?" Alvin asked.

"If we do take those steps to protect our earnings forecast when it's not necessary, savvy investors will think there's some ultra-sensitivity to earnings blips on our part. They'll translate that into a lack of confidence in the overall forecast. The whole thing could backfire."

"That wouldn't be fair," Alvin pleaded.

"Fair or not, it would be a reasonable deduction. That's what I'd think if I were on the other side of the fence. Why not just play it straight? I think it will work out for us in the long-run, credibility-wise. The important message is that our Operations are sound and on target."

"I like your thinking," Alvin conceded. "But you know that the stock price will suffer." 

"It's suffering already with the rest of the market," Frank retorted. "It'll only be temporary. I think this is the right way to go."

Alvin sat back in his chair and thought for a few seconds. He turned to Aaron. "What do you think we should do, young man?"

"Uh, sir, uh, I agree..." the startled subordinate began to stammer.

"That's okay," Alvin said. "Just be glad for the chance to take some lessons from your boss, first-hand." Alvin turned to Frank. "Okay, you convinced me. We'll do it your way. When will it be official?"

"The lawyers are working on the SEC details right now. I'll know more tomorrow morning. I thought I would have Tyler start working on a press release. You should do a telecon as soon as we can get you prepped." Alvin nodded. "Now, as to the rest of the forecast..."

"Don't expect Blake Hart to change his operating forecast," Alvin said. "He always keeps it pretty tight and we just went through this not long ago. Focus on coordinating between him and Lowell to make sure that the revised R&D is properly reflected in downstream sales and spending."

"That'll make your job easier," Frank said to Aaron. 

********* 

After Aaron left it was almost noon.

"Seems like a smart young man," Alvin said. 

"He's still fairly young, but you're right. He is smart and he knows how to get a job done on short order."

"What did you say his name was?" Alvin asked. "Was it Fishstein, or something like that?"

"Fishman," Frank corrected. "You'll be hearing more from him, I believe. I would consider him for the Controller's job, but he's, unfortunately, still a little green."

"Is he the one Jason saw in the Controller's office?" Alvin inquired.

"I authorized it," Frank said. "I thought it would be better for confidentiality and make it easier to get the forecast rolling faster."

"I've got no problem with it," Alvin replied. "Jason seems to have his nose a little out of joint."

"I can't help it," Frank said. "It'll just have to be out of joint. We've got a job to do and this is the best way to get it done."

"Like I said, no problem. I was going to order something from the lunchroom and eat it here in the office," Alvin said. "Why don't you join me if you haven't got any plans for lunch?"

"How was your trip to Germany?" Frank asked. 

"Not so good," Alvin sighed. "The Wertheim people suspected a stall and they developed a cold shoulder."

"Were you able to keep the stock issue confidential?"

"I was vague and I didn't say anything specific," Alvin explained. "I think the Wertheim people figured it out. That's why they turned lukewarm. They expected us to issue the stock regardless of the price and worry about the dilution later."

"Herr Mueller was quite upset," Frank told him.

"Oh, I know," Alvin acknowledged. "I got a call from him right after your teleconference."

"I understand why he's concerned, but..." Frank started to say, but Alvin stopped him.

"He's right to be worried about the Wertheim deal, but he's failing to see the big picture."

"Jim Sweeney put in a surprise visit on Friday," Frank added.

"I know," Alvin said. "He called me over the weekend."

There was a knock at Alvin's door and a worker from the Executive Lunchroom brought in their lunch orders. 

"Care for something to go with it?" Alvin offered.

"Too early for me," Frank said. "I'll take a bottle of juice, if you've got it."

"You convinced me on that, too," Alvin said as he set two bottles of orange juice on the conference table. "How are we doing on the interim financing?"

"Slow right now," Frank conceded. "I haven't been able to tell the bankers exactly how much we need, how long we need it, or what we need it for. I think we can finance the R&D, but I can't see them making any loans for the Wertheim buyout."

"In that case, if Wertheim falls through the stock offering doesn't make much sense," Alvin said.

"Not until we develop another merger candidate. We wouldn't even want to. Sitting with all that cash without a use for it would make us a takeover target."

"Good point," Alvin conceded. "I'm starting to have second thoughts on this acquisition. I learned just how uncooperative the Germans can be. We could be headed for a very bad corporate marriage. I'm not saying the deal is strictly off; I'm just thinking about it. I know Jim Sweeney told you he has that opinion, too."

"Then what I was about to suggest doesn't make much sense," Frank said. "I was thinking a stock-for-stock deal at sixty-five dollars. That would make the shelved offering issue moot." 

"I doubt they'd go for it. They want cash," Alvin replied. "Whatever we do, we have to keep the R&D program rolling forward. If we fail, competition will creep past us. It'll be death by a thousand cuts."

"The timing might suffer until we get our financing in place," Frank advised. "I'm having Jason furnish a list by priorities with costs attached to each."

"Stay on it, and keep me involved. Be sure that Blake gets a crack at it from the commercialization aspect." Alvin said. "Make it highest priority. I'll talk to Jason. He's new in his job, too, and he's never been through anything like this in academia."

"He appeared overly nervous when we had our Management Group meeting," Frank said.

"Leave Jason to me," Alvin replied. "Keep going on that financing and keep those R&D details tied together."

"No problem, Alvin," Frank said as he finished his sandwich. "I think that about covers it."

There is one other thing—more on a personal note," Alvin said. "Gloria told me that Trudy agreed to join her Western Chemical Foundation. I was real happy to hear that."

"I told Trudy that it's her decision. She's going to try it for a while."

"I'm hoping that Gloria and Trudy get to spend some time together," Alvin continued. "I think Gloria could benefit by it."

"They're not exactly two peas in a pod," Frank pointed out. 

"That's just the point," Alvin said. "Trudy's so nice. She's down-to-earth and gets along with everyone. I'm hoping that some of it rubs off on Gloria."

"I always thought Gloria was..."

"I think she's lost some of it over the past couple of years," Alvin confided. "Maybe it's because I don't spend enough time with her. She's become so status-conscious. She wasn't that way when we first got married."

"Geez, Alvin," Frank pleaded, "I don't know how to answer you. I don't know Gloria that well. Everyone changes. I wouldn't look to Trudy to be some sort of missionary. She prides herself on minding her own business."

"I think that Gloria needs a real friend," Alvin mused, "someone with their own mind, like Trudy, who just wants to be friends, and nothing else. That's how I see it."

"Trudy's always willing to give someone a chance."

"It can't hurt," Alvin said.

************* 

Juana was waxing the kitchen floor when she heard the doorbell. She set the mop down and started for the front door. She had a second thought and stopped at the sink to clean her hands; she had no idea who it might be. The Señora's guests weren't due for another half-hour.

The doorbell rang again, due to the delay. Juana heard Señora Warner yell from upstairs in her bedroom.

"Juana, what are you doing? Get the door!"

"Si, Señora; I 'ave eet," she called back. There were times when the Señora could be aggravating; and then there were times like this when she had a knack for really getting under Juana's skin.

She hurried to the door before it had a chance to ring again, drying her hands on her apron. When the door opened there was a tall, blonde gringa stranger who stood looking at her with a toothy grin.

"I'm Trudy Bennett," the stranger said as the door opened. Juana took a second to look at her. She was about the Señora's age, but plainer looking. She was wearing black slacks and a nice, white blouse, with a purse with an over-the-shoulder strap and she had some sort of canvas tote bag in her hand.

Juana peered past the strange woman standing patiently in front of her, to see if she was accompanied by others. Juana was thinking that she was too dressed-up to be part of the Señora's crowd. Perhaps she was a saleswoman. The Señora would want her sent away.

"Gloria asked me to come to a meeting here today," the stranger added. 

"Who was at the door, Juana?" a troublesome voice from upstairs yelled.

Juana turned toward the stairway. "Eet ees one who calls herself..." Juana had forgotten the stranger's name. She turned to the doorway for help.

"Trudy Bennett," the stranger reminded in a low voice.

"She ees called Trudy Bennett," Juana yelled up the stairs.

"She's early!" the disagreeable voice yelled back. There was a short pause. "Take her to the veranda and get her something to drink."

"Dees way, pliz," Juana bade the stranger. When she was certain that the new guest had stepped through the door and ready to follow, Juana turned and led her to the veranda. She motioned to a large white table with an umbrella protecting it.

"This is very nice, thank you," the woman who called herself Trudy said with her smile that had not left her face. "I'm sorry to be early. I was sure that Gloria told me one o'clock."

"Dee Señora always mins one-teerty when chee says one," Juana informed her. "Dee others weel be 'eere den."

"Oh," Trudy said, laughing out loud. "I thought she just meant one." Juana saw her pause and look at her for a second. "I guess that makes two of us who don't understand English very well." Then she laughed again.

Juana fought back the urge to laugh along with her. It would have been unprofessional. "Would you like a dreenk?" she asked the stranger.

"An iced tea would be really nice," the blonde woman answered. 

Juana nodded—she had some already made up. "Chall I bring dee vodka?"

Trudy opened her eyes wider in surprise. "Oh, no thank you. I never drink during the day. I'd never stay awake for the meeting." She was laughing again.

"Very good, Señora." Juana turned and made her way to the kitchen. This tall, blonde stranger confused her. She was unlike any rich gringa she had ever met. It made Juana a little uncomfortable. The woman didn't act like a rich person, yet she must have been rich because all Señora Gloria's friends were. If Juana had permitted herself the indulgence, her curiosity would have piqued. She reminded herself that she was merely fetching iced tea—without vodka. 

Juana returned with a tray on which she set a bowls of ice, lemon wedges and mint leaves, along with an empty glass and the pitcher of iced tea.

"I'm so sorry," the blonde woman jumped out of her chair to assist her as she returned to the veranda. "I had no idea that you'd go to all that trouble for me."

It was true, as Juana thought to herself; she wouldn't normally bring out all the fixings for a stranger who was just killing time on the veranda. Some undefined feeling made Juana decide to perform the extra service. 

"Señora Bennett, eet ees no-teen," she answered as she set down the tray. "I weel feex eet. Pliz enjoy." 

Trudy resumed her seat under the umbrella while Juana crushed the mint leaves in the bottom of the glass. "You can call me Trudy," she called over to Juana. "Not many people call me Mrs. Bennett."

Juana brought the finished drink and set it on the table with a little napkin. She chose not to respond to the stranger's invitation to use first names.

"This will be really nice," Trudy smiled up at her. "I'll just sip this and look at the gardens while I wait for the others."

"Dee gardens pliz chu?" Juana asked. 

"Of course," Trudy replied. "I always like gardens. These are the nicest I've seen in a while." 

"Dee gardener—eet ees my hoseban'," Juana announced. She allowed herself a moment of pride. "We leeve 'eere een dat leetle house d'ere," she said, pointing to the cottage just visible on the edge of the grounds.

"That's wonderful!" Trudy exclaimed. "How many years have you lived here?"




The Brass Statuettes Ch. 05



"A long time," Juana answered. "Mebee teerty years. José an' me; wee 'ave our honeymoon in d'are."

Juana waited for her reaction and Trudy reacted with a smile. "That's really sweet," she said. "My husband and I will have our twentieth anniversary soon."

"Twenty ees good, too," Juana conceded, unable to conceal a note of cheerfulness. She paused, wondering if she should say more; perhaps inquire if she had children. She decided not to; she'd said enough already. "I must work now." 

Trudy remained on the veranda, drinking her iced tea and enjoying the manicured lawn and the gardens. She had taken Gloria at her word when she said one o'clock. She had never been one of those 'fashionably late' types. This new venture into the world of Gloria's charity would take some getting used to.

Off to her right she spotted the swimming pool. An older Mexican man dressed in jeans, a pale green work shirt and a wide-brimmed field hat was inside the fence skimming the surface with a net attached to a pole. "That must be Juana's husband." It occurred to her what a different life they led. Yet, in the final analysis, they were the same as she and Frank—just two people trying as hard as they can, finding their way through life together.

"Trudy!" She heard a cry from behind her. She knew it was Gloria stepping out onto the veranda to greet her. She turned to meet her hostess.

"Thank you for inviting me," Trudy said as Gloria crushed herself to her as she seized an embrace. 

"I'm so glad that you decided to join us," Gloria told her. "The others should be here in about fifteen minutes."

"I apologize for coming early," Trudy said. "I'd have sworn that you told me to come over at one."

"Oh, I did," Gloria said. "But, that didn't mean to be here at one. That's the time to start getting ready at one. We're always about a half-hour behind."

"I see," Trudy replied. "Next time, I'll know. It worked out well. I had a chance to admire your gardens."

Gloria pulled out a chair from the table and they both sat down.

"I see that Juana brought you a refreshment. I think I'll have one, too." Gloria took a deep breath and yelled out, "Juana!"

"Don't be silly," Trudy said, rising to her feet. "All the makings are right here on the bar. I'd be happy to make one for you."

Gloria remained in her chair. Her face began turning red, but she allowed Trudy to make her drink. As she was just finishing it Juana appeared on the veranda.

"Deed chu call me, Señora Warner?"

"Never mind," Gloria snapped. "I wanted you to make me a drink. Mrs. Bennett's doing it for you."

"Sorry, Señora Warner," the maid mumbled.

"It's okay," Trudy interjected. "It's my pleasure." She set Gloria's drink on the tray when Juana stopped her.

"Dee Señora likes to have vodka wit' eet," she whispered to Trudy. "Eet' ees in dee cabinet. I weel get eet."

"Oh," Trudy said, slightly chagrinned. "Gloria," she called over to from the bar to the table, "you don't want any vodka in this, do you?"

Gloria's head snapped around. She drew a deep breath and began to answer, but then let the breath out. "Not if you're not having any, dear," she answered in a saccharin voice. She shook her head slightly, and motioned Juana to go.

Trudy rejoined Gloria at the table. They took a big gulp of their drinks. "Trudy, dear," Gloria began. "I should have told you that we dress quite a bit more casually at our meetings. You're a bit overdressed, I'm afraid."

"This old thing?" Trudy asked. "Why these are just my grocery store clothes!" Then she laughed out loud while grabbing Gloria's arm, who recoiled a bit and grimaced as Trudy enjoyed her own joke.

"Most of the girls wear cotton skirts and blouses with their suits underneath," Gloria went on. "I hope you brought your bathing suit. Did you?"

"Sure did," Trudy replied. "It's right here in my tote bag."

************** 

"That brings us to you, Trudy," Gloria stated as she stood chairing the meeting. All of the other Board members had their assignments. Each was responsible for specific sources of donations from the various corporations and professional offices in the community. Ashley and Brenda had the additional charge of finding suitable office space in the downtown area when the time was right. Darlene would handle the checkbook. Brenda also had the responsibility to write all grant proposals. There was a seminar that she would attend to learn the basics of doing that. Gloria would coordinate everything and be the press contact. 

"I'm not really used to this kind of thing," Trudy admitted.

"Oh, don't worry," Gloria said. "I have an assignment for you that will be a big help."

"Whatever you say," Trudy replied.

She was to have the title of Corresponding Secretary. Gloria explained that it would be Trudy's responsibility to open a post office box, sort and record all the mail and send acknowledgements when necessary.

"I know that it doesn't sound like much," Gloria conceded, "but it would really be a big help."

"It's fine," Trudy said. "I used to do that kind of thing before Frank and I were married. I was a receptionist at the firm where he worked. That's how we met."

Gloria cleared her throat. "That's very interesting, Trudy," she said. "You'll have to tell us all about it sometime."

Out of the corner of her eye Trudy spied Ashley and Darlene covering their mouths and looking away to stifle little giggles. She said nothing when she saw them; it happened all the time and Trudy learned that life was easier when she ignored it. 

"I don't think we have any more to cover today," Gloria announced.

"Tyler thinks that we need some board members that aren't connected to Western," Ashley said. 

"That's what Alvin said, too," Gloria replied. "I'm working on it. We have to get the right people." Gloria paused and looked around the table. "I think we're done for today," she announced. Let's go relax by the pool."

********* 

Gloria directed Trudy to the changing room in the mini-gym and handed her the key. "By the time you change into your suit, we'll be at the pool waiting for you," she said. The four women watched in silence as Trudy finally disappeared into the building by the pool. 

"Hey, Gloria," Ashley demanded, "What's the idea with the Virgin Iced Teas?"

"That was Trudy's idea," Gloria answered. "She had Juana fix it for her that way before I had a chance to say anything." 

"I thought as much," said Brenda.

"And then she made me drink it the same way," Gloria added. "I called for Juana to serve me a drink, but Trudy jumped up and said 'no, she'd do it'—and then she did. I couldn't stop her without making a scene."

"Ah thought the idea was that Trudy was s'pposed t' become more like us, not th' other way 'round," Darlene reminded the group.

"That's what I thought, too," Gloria said. "This was all Brenda's idea."

"Well, how was I supposed to know..."

"And you should have seen Juana fawning all over her," Gloria continued. "Someone's forgetting who pays the tab around here."

"It would figure that it'd be Trudy who'd take a shine to the maid," Ashley said. 

"Well, it's going to take more time and patience than we thought," Brenda said.

"More time than you thought," Ashley shot back.

"We're stuck with it now," Brenda retorted. "Anyway, she's got a job where she can't get in the way and it's one that's a big pain; we're lucky to have her—or else one of us would have to do it."

"We'll just have to deal with it," Gloria said. "We better get over there. She'll be coming out soon."

When Trudy opened the door of the mini-gym she was wearing a one-piece suit in a solid royal blue color. Trudy saw right away that her suit was quite unlike the others'. They were all in bikinis that were much less modestly cut. It was another example of Trudy not fitting in; she half expected it to be so before she stepped through the door.

"It looks like royal blue's in season," Ashley pointed out. 

"Huh?" Trudy puzzled.

"It's the same color as your beautiful gown last Friday night," Gloria explained.

"Ha!" Trudy laughed. "I never thought of that. I guess it is my favorite color, come to think of it."

Trudy poured a handful of sun protection cream in her palm and began smoothing it on her arms and legs. The four other women noticed how long and toned her limbs were.

"You're certainly in good shape," Brenda said.

"Well thanks, I..." Trudy began to answer.

"What gym do you belong to?" Ashley asked. "Who's your trainer?"

"Gym?" Trudy asked. "I don't really go in for that. My housework is enough to give me plenty of exercise. Sometimes I do some stretching on a mat on the floor when I'm alone in the house." 

"Housework?" Ashley and Darlene mouthed to one another when they were sure that Trudy had looked away.

"How are you going to tan your mid-section if you wear a one-piece suit?" Brenda asked.

"I guess I won't," Trudy admitted. "It doesn't matter. When a woman's pushing forty, like me, it's better not to show too much skin in public."

Brenda and Gloria traded glances, and Gloria's face started turning red. Gloria drew a deep breath and rose up in her chair, but Brenda place her hand on her forearm to stop her. 

"Anyway," Trudy corrected, "that's the way it works for me."

"Showing our bodies off is what makes men want us," Gloria instructed her. "That's why we work so hard on keeping them like they are."

"I don't really think so, do you?" Trudy retorted. "And anyway, I only mentioned showing skin in public. Where it really counts is not public—and I never hesitate to show more there." Trudy laughed. She saw the others roll their eyes at first, and then force out polite giggles. 

"You're speaking about your husband," Brenda clarified. "What about other men?"

"What do you mean," Trudy paused with a puzzled look on her face.

"You know—men who aren't your husband," Brenda repeated. "How do you make them want you? For example, how would you make my husband, Blake, want you?"

"I would never go to bed with your husband," Trudy answered. Her brow furled and the smile disappeared from her face.

"She didn't mean to actually get in bed with him," Gloria explained. "Just to make him wish that he could." 

"I don't want him to wish that," Trudy replied. "I like the real thing more than pretending."

"I'll bet your husband thinks about it," Ashley said. "Maybe Gloria, or me, or any one of us—or all of us. All men do. Turnabout is only fair play."

"Did you mean all of us one at a time, at the same time?" Brenda inquired. Her joke got a bigger response than Trudy's.

"I wouldn't know," Trudy said. If there ever had been any fun in the afternoon with the girls, it had disappeared. She looked about for some refuge.

"That water looks so inviting, Gloria, she said. "Do you mind if I have a swim to cool off?" She didn't wait for the answer; she dove into the deep end head-first, and swam to the other end, not stopping until she reached the far wall.

"Trudy's got a lot to learn," Brenda commented as Trudy disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

"Well, I don't think I have the patience to teach her," Gloria said.

"Maybe she'll have to learn on her own someday, when her husband's career requires it," Ashley said. "I'll bet she's never thought of that. Then she'll find out about 'the real thing'."

"Ah'm sure not," Darlene issued a mild protest. "It's hard for me t' think on it."

"And you're far more advanced than Trudy," Brenda agreed.

"At least Darlene's a willing student," Gloria pointed out.

Trudy completed her lap and popped her head out of the water. "Shhh," Brenda scolded. "Don't let her hear us!" At the end of her lap Trudy stood up in the shallow end and turned toward the group with a look of expectation. Hearing nothing from them, she pushed back into the water and started her return lap to the deep end.

"We'll talk later," Gloria told Brenda. 

Trudy arrived at the edge of the pool and quickly hoisted herself out of the water. She stood dripping before her new associates and looked up at the sun as they eyed her. She walked to the chair and picked up her towel and began drying herself.

"I should have realized that the water would wash off all my sunscreen," Trudy said. "With my skin, I'll burn to a crisp if I stay in this sun very long. I think I'll get dressed." She didn't wait for Gloria's permission, like some of the others might have. She turned and headed for the changing room in the mini gym. 

Inside the house, Juana stood at the kitchen window where she could see the pool. 

"¿Come se dice eso nombre—Trudy?" she asked herself.

Perhaps, she thought, it meant 'tall, smiling woman'. She thought again and corrected herself. "Woman with the kind face." She observed that this new friend of her mistress was different from the other women who regularly sat undressed at Gloria's pool and tempted José's young obreros as they drank too much.

Trudy came out of the mini-gym changed into her street clothes. 

"This has been fun, Gloria. Thanks for inviting me. I've got to get going now."

"So soon?" Gloria pouted. "We were just getting started." 

"Have to get dinner started," Trudy answered, "and check up on Margaret and Patricia."

"I'll call you for the next meeting, then," Gloria conceded. "Thanks for coming." 

"'Bye, everyone," Trudy said to the group and abruptly turned and walked toward the house.

"Juana will help you find your way out," Gloria called after her. Trudy didn't answer.

"This hasn't been much fun today," Gloria stated. "Trudy put a damper on everything."

"There are no gardeners, either," Brenda observed. "Darlene, this was supposed to be your big debut."

"Maybe it doesn't feel the same without the vodka in our iced tea," Ashley said.

Darlene was blushing. "Ah was ready," she said. "Ah'm wearin' my littlest bikini."

"Be ready next time," Gloria ordered.

********** 

As always, the Texas summer night was very warm, even after sundown. Patricia was out with friends and their younger daughter, Margaret, was fortified in her room, alternately on her cell phone or the internet. Rather than hide behind the air conditioning, Frank and Trudy decided to have a drink together by the pool. They hadn't changed into swim suits. Frank was wearing gym shorts and impulsively threw off his shirt and dove in. 

Trudy watched Frank swim down to the shallow end. She was drinking a glass of lemonade and Frank had a beer waiting for him when he was finished swimming. It seemed that a lot was happening to her around swimming pools lately. Frank swam back and climbed out of the pool.

"You should dive in, Trudy," he urged. "It's only us. You can get your clothes wet. No one will see."

"That's okay," she said, "I already went swimming at Gloria's house this afternoon"

"That's right, I almost forgot," he said as he dried himself. He reached for his shirt and pulled it over his head and sat down in the chair next to hers. He opened his beer and took a few long gulps. "Ahh! The first swallow is always the best."

"I knew you were going to say that."

"How would you know that?" he demanded

"Because you say that every time you have a beer when you're hot and thirsty."

"I guess you've got me all figured out," he conceded.

"Not all figured out—but mostly." She let a smile escape to let him know that it pleased her to be with him. It wasn't a voluntary act; she couldn't make it come and go on command. Her face gave away her feelings whenever it chose to.

"Then, I guess I'd better watch my step," he replied. "Anyway, how did it go?"

"What go?"

"The meeting at Gloria's house. You're the one who brought it up."

"It was okay."

"Trudy," Frank said, "when you say something went okay, it means 'not very good'."

"It was nothing much," she answered. "Gloria and the girls didn't like my bathing suit, and they made fun of me when they thought I couldn't hear them. Other than that, it was okay."

"Made fun of what?" Frank demanded.

"They didn't like it because I didn't put booze in my iced tea and that I do housework instead of going to a gym."

"Sticks and stones," Frank said, appearing to lose interest.

"On top of that, they gave me a clunky job to keep me out of the way. It's okay, though, because then I can do my part and not be responsible for anything."

"Whatever Gloria and her cohort are capable of, I'm sure that you are, too."

"Not that social stuff, Frank. I can't do it. It sounds like they're planning on going around to all the companies and twisting arms."

"What else would it be?" Frank said. "I remember last winter we had the Foundation slotted for a nice two million dollar donation. Alvin came in one Monday morning with a smile on his face and all of a sudden it was three million."

"I would never do that," Trudy said.

"Why not?" 

Trudy turned and gave Frank that look that let him know he was on thin ice, and the weather was really hot.

"I didn't mean with Alvin," her husband clarified.

"Stop joking!" she said, and then looked away. Frank sat back and downed the rest of his beer, chuckling to himself. 

"You should see the way Gloria treats her maid," Trudy said, letting her displeasure show. "It's awful." 

"It's up to you whether you have booze in your iced tea," Frank said.

"Well they ..."

"I think you worry too much," Frank insisted. Trudy said nothing. Frank could tell what she was thinking.

"They didn't like your bathing suit because they wish they could look like you do when you wear it."

"Do you mean it?" she asked. Her voice cracked a little.

"Did you wear the medium blue one that's a little frumpy?"

"It's royal blue, and I like it."

"Yes, Trudy; I meant it."

"You're sure?" 

"Have you noticed me avoiding you lately," Frank asked.

"I suppose not," she answered in a tiny voice. "and it's modest—not frumpy"

"I'll prove it to you," Frank offered. "Put down your glass."

"My glass?" Perhaps she didn't notice that she did set it on the table. 

"Now, relax; close your eyes."

"Oh, Frank what is this?" But, she closed them, just the same.

"I think you need to cool off," Frank said. Before she could question him again he grasped her hand. He pulled her along and she ran to keep up with him. After a few strides they were airborne, and then they entered the water together—clothes and all. 

They were dripping as they approached the house. Margaret met them at the door. She had heard the splashing and Trudy's shriek. Frank and Trudy were laughing, but their daughter gave them a stern look.

"Oh really!" she exclaimed in disgust as she rolled her eyes. It made her parents laugh even harder. The girl turned to go back to her room. She put her cell phone back to her ear. "You won't believe what my parents just did..."

************** 

TO BE CONTINUED

Dear Readers,

Thanks for reading. I hope you're enjoying the story so far. Send me your comments, either on the Public Comments section, or in the private e-mail facility.

AW



The Brass Statuettes Ch. 06



Chapter 6— Let's Get the Party Started

Frank had just hung up the phone after a conversation with Paul Riley at Citicorp. His bank had some preliminary interest in funding the bridge financing for the R&D projects, but they wanted to see the 10-Q before committing to anything. Frank was hearing that message over and over from each bank he contacted. That suited him fine because the 10-Q report would be in the hands of the SEC by the end of the week, and therefore in the public domain. Frank knew what the report said, so he was sure that after publication it would be on to the next step.

As soon as he hung up the phone Jeannette buzzed him on the intercom. "Mr. Lowell is here and insists on seeing you," she said in her normal, smooth voice. It didn't matter how her voice sounded, Frank knew there was trouble outside his closed door. When Jeannette used the word 'insist', Frank knew what it meant.

Frank could have put him off with one excuse or another and he was tempted to do it. It was eleven already, after all, and Frank would have preferred to avoid the distraction. He quickly realized that the idea was wishful thinking. In a tit-for-tat world Frank knew that Jason would quickly iced Aaron and the forecast, and that wasn't acceptable. He drew a deep breath. He was about to walk to the office door to greet Jason, but he thought better of it. 

"Tell him to come in, Jeannette."

Jason Lowell was a slender man, and that gave him the appearance of being taller than he was. His wavy, reddish hair was a little longer than most, combed thoughtlessly to the side—no doubt a holdover from his days in academia. He had pale skin to go with his red hair, and the Texas sun had turned it blotchy. It all gave him a boyish look, but actually, he was a year older than Frank. 

Frank remained seated as Lowell marched across the room. Jeannette closed the door behind him. He stayed silent until Jason stopped in front of his desk. He looked the intruder over; Frank couldn't see the floor just in front of his desk, but he wouldn't have been surprised if the young VP was tapping his foot.

"What's up, Jason?" 

"It's that guy of yours, Fishberg; you've got to get him off my back," Lowell blurted out.

Frank didn't answer right away, and Jason looked about nervously for a chair. He found one and dumped himself into the seat.

"Let's go over to the alcove where it's more comfortable," Frank said as he rose from the chair behind his desk. Jason bounded out of his newly-won perch and followed his reluctant host. 

"I'd offer you something," Frank said, "but it's too early for something hard and too close to lunch for anything else." He waited for Jason to seat himself. "Maybe we should have had this conversation over lunch."

"Maybe next time," Lowell answered. 

"I could get you some water," Frank added as an afterthought. "How about some water?"

"No thanks," Jason replied.

"It's just that your throat sounds like it's a little dry," Frank observed.

Jason didn't answer this time. He sat motionless, arms crossed, in the leather chair. Frank thought that his blotchy forehead appeared slightly damp, despite the air conditioning.

"Fishman," Frank said.

"Huh?" Lowell grunted.

"His name is Aaron Fishman," Frank repeated. "It wouldn't normally be important for you to remember that, but since you'll be working so closely together over the next few days, I'd thought you'd want to know his name."

"I don't have time..." Jason began to protest.

"He won't mind if you call him Aaron," Frank said in a monotone. 

"It's not up to me to do this," Lowell shouted. "It's your forecast! Put your own numbers to it. I didn't take this job to be a bean counter."

"Not a chance, Jason. We're talking about your projects and hundreds of millions of dollars. I'm beating my goddam brains out to get you the money you need. I can't do it without that forecast and I won't settle for a bag of garbage tied up with a pretty ribbon."

"We had a plan for the money," Jason reminded him. "Somehow, that all crapped out."

"That question's been asked and answered," Frank lashed back. "We're moving on. Did you meet with Blake Hart about the commercialization?"

"Well, uh..." Jason started to answer.

"No! I know you didn't because I spoke with Blake this morning. He's waiting for you and you're not even on his calendar."

Jason looked out the window and then down at the floor. "I guess I didn't know the process around here," he mumbled. "Couldn't the three of us meet around a table and..."

"No, you've got to work with Aaron on this. I'm busy arranging the financing. I should be doing that right now. It was what I was doing before you barged in here."

"Sorry," Jason uttered, averting his line of sight away from Frank. "I don't see how you can bring a guy up from the fifth floor and put him an office up here and expect us to just to be comfortable with him."

"Aw, come off it, Jason. That's uncalled for. I brought him up here to make this whole thing move faster. It was my call—and a good one. And don't think I can't read between the lines. I'm going to let it pass because nothing is more important right now than getting this forecast done."

Jason said nothing, just glaring at the floor with his arms folded across his chest.

"I'll walk you to the door," Frank said, reclaiming his calmer demeanor. 

"Never mind," Jason replied. "I'll find my own way."

Frank watched him walk to the door. As he reached out to open it, Frank stopped him.

"Hey, Jason," he called to him, "come on back at five and we'll have a drink."

Lowell paused and started to speak, but then turned and left without answering.

Frank shook his head as he watched Jason leave. It was nothing that he hadn't encountered before, and scientist-types were the worst when it came to forecasting and budgeting. They whined and moaned, but in the end it was a job that had to be done.

Frank was displeased at Jason's comments about Aaron. He hadn't really expected it from Jason, having come from liberal academia and all. He hadn't come out and said the 'J' word, but the edge was there and Frank knew what it meant. That was personal, though, and could only be important if it had an effect on the forecast. Besides, Frank never thought that he could save the world.

When he was sure that Jason had departed the area he went to Jeannette's desk. "Would you find Aaron and tell him to plan to have lunch with me? And, make reservations for two in the Executive Lunchroom for twelve-fifteen." 

********* 

Frank was waiting for Aaron outside his office as lunchtime approached. "I'd give you that extra hour today, Jeannette, but I can't afford to be without you," Frank told her.

"Stop worrying about it," she replied. "I only think about it when you bring it up."

At that moment Aaron appeared from around the corner, looking a little nervous.

"I hope you're hungry," Frank said as he pressed the up button for the elevator. The Executive Suite was a floor below the Dining Room. Aaron didn't answer. "They always push the salads," Frank joked, "but don't let them get away with it."

"I've never been in the Executive Dining Room," Aaron pointed out as the stepped into the elevator car.

"No, I wouldn't have thought so," Frank replied. "I don't go up there much, myself. More times than not, I have them bring me a sandwich to my office."

"We could have done that," Aaron volunteered.

"No, not this time," Frank replied. The elevator door opened and they stepped out. The Head Waiter greeted them and then escorted them through the crowded dining room and showed them to a table by the window. "Charles, have you got a table in the middle of the room?" Frank asked. 

"Sorry, Mr. Bennett, they're all for parties of more than two. You usually ask for the window table. Sales has a big lunch on today for..."

"It's alright, Charles," Frank said. "I just had a thought that didn't work out."

The two men sat down; Aaron was busy rubbernecking around the room and catching the view of the city from the top floor.

"Why do you think I asked you to have lunch here today?" Frank asked.

Aaron thought a moment. Frank watched him and he was sure that the young man was searching for a tactful reply. It didn't bother him. It might have been him sitting in Aaron's place a dozen years ago. That is, if any VP had ever been in the mood to treat him to lunch.

"I guess it's in lieu of overtime," Aaron guessed.

"Beats getting money, doesn't it," Frank joked. Aaron forced out a strained laugh. "That's only part of the answer," Frank said. "Let's face it; if it were just that, I could have taken you somewhere a lot more interesting."

"This is real nice," Aaron countered. "I was just going to get a bowl of soup in the downstairs lunchroom."

"I ate a lot of meals in that lunchroom. I should go down there sometime, just for old time's sake." Frank thought it over for a second. "Probably not," he recanted. "I doubt if the employees could relax over lunch with the brass at the table next to them."

"I'm sure everyone would be happy..." Aaron tried to console him.

"Don't worry about it, Aaron," Frank interrupted. "I was there once. I know the score."

Frank let the point sink in while he paused to look over the menu. He took his time, waiting for the suspense to have full effect. 

"I wanted you to be seen up here with me so that everyone knows that you belong in the Executive Suite while you're on this project and that the reason that you're there is because I said so."

Aaron took a gulp of his water. "I see."

"It's not that I don't appreciate the job you're doing or that I'm not enjoying having lunch with you," Frank said. "I've got to make sure of this other thing, too. I'm short-handed with the Controller's position vacant. We can't let that be an excuse. Nothing can get in the way of getting good performance on this forecast. I'm pulling out all the stops."

"I understand," Aaron assured Frank. "It's going a little slower than I thought..."

"That's because not everyone thinks they have to work with you," Frank said. "I just had a visit from Jason Lowell this morning. I know he walked out on you earlier."

"Actually, he didn't walk out; he didn't show up," Aaron explained. "I sat outside his office for a half hour. We were supposed to meet at nine. His secretary finally ran him down and he said that he forgot. He was across town in the Polymer Lab checking on an experiment."

"That's even worse," Frank insisted. "I don't think he's held a test tube in a dozen years. He was just hiding out."

"He called me later and asked me what I needed him for. I told him and he said he didn't know what I was talking about. Then he said he'd have to get back to me."

"That must have been when he marched into my office," Frank said. "We had a good exchange. I doubt if he'll put you off again." 

"I'm happy to hear that," Aaron admitted.

"But if he does," Frank warned, "you have to come to me right away. I know why you didn't. You didn't want to come running the first time someone kicked sand in your face."

"I thought I could handle it. You were busy with other things," Aaron pleaded.

"I understand," Frank continued, "but I can't condone it. This forecast is more important than personal pride. You've got to understand what's at stake."

"I think that I do," Aaron assured him.

"Well, let me make sure you do," Frank said, leaning forward. "This company needs to invest in R&D in a big way to keep up with competition, and that means lots of money. The stock offering is off the table for the time being, so that means debt financing. To get lenders on board, we need a forecast they can hang their hats on. If we don't get the financing, we won't be able to keep up. We'll lose market share and margin. It won't be right away, but it's sure to happen."

"I understand," Aaron said.

"I'm not finished," Frank said. "If we float a forecast that we can't live up to, we'll lose all credibility. Our stock price will tank. Our investors will lose their shirts. Western will become a takeover target and some outfit like KKR will pick us up for a song. Then they'll milk us until the company folds up piece by piece."

"I really do understand," Aaron tried to assure him.

"Jason Lowell called us bean counters this morning. Guys like him think this is some kind of silly exercise to keep us busy. It's not; it's serious. Every employee and investor is counting on us. Neither you nor I will drop the ball." 

"I won't let you down," Aaron promised.

"Aaron, if I thought that there was anyone in this company could do this job even a smidgeon better than you, that person would be doing it."

"Except for you, of course," Aaron said with a deadpan expression. Frank paused and then slowly started laughing. Aaron laughed with him. "It's my Jewish sense of humor," Aaron explained.

"Don't be a wise guy," Frank countered. "That's not allowed in the Executive Dining room until you reach Pay Grade 9." Frank laughed some more. "C'mon, let's enjoy our lunch."

After they finished eating they were waiting for the elevator. "When you see Jason this afternoon, try to line up his numbers ahead of time as much as you can. Make it 'fill in the blanks' as much as possible." 

"Thanks for lunch," Aaron said politely.

"Thank you," Frank replied. "Consider it a down payment."

***************** 

"C'mon, Bren; it'll be fun. Just wear jeans. I'm in the car now; I'll be at your house in less than ten minutes."

It was Gloria's latest command. Brenda couldn't see why Gloria felt she needed an escort and she'd planned on spending the afternoon by herself, getting ready to go to dinner with Blake that evening. As it was, her nails were still wet.

Brenda sighed and put on her jeans and a pair of loafers. She didn't want to, but hadn't figured out a way to refuse when Gloria insisted. And, she reminded herself, one never knew what new developments might take place when Gloria was out and about. It was best that she be there if anything needed to be handled. Brenda sat waiting at the window, wondering what the upcoming excursion might bring her way.

Gloria pulled into Brenda's driveway in her silver Beemer, which meant that the company car, complete with chauffer, was assigned to Alvin for the day.

"This is starting out bad already. I don't even know if I'll make it back in one piece." Brenda had been in the passenger's seat of Gloria's car before, and it was always an adventure. She consoled herself with the knowledge that the German-engineered luxury car must have all the latest safety amenities. "I'll just have to figure out a way to buckle my seat belt without hurting her feelings."

Brenda always thought it tacky to wear expensive jewelry with jeans, but there Gloria was in all her denim glory. She wore one of her best strings of pearls over a denim shirt that matched her jeans. "At least they're designer jeans."

"Hi, Bren," Gloria greeted her cheerfully. "You'll be so glad you decided to come along. After everything you've done for me, I want to share this with you."

"I have to be back by five," Brenda warned. "Blake and I are having dinner at the club tonight with the Dawson's. I'll have just enough time to put my face on and slip into my dress." 

"That's fair enough!" Gloria conceded. She took a right turn a little too fast and the tires squealed. "By that time, the children get picked up, anyway."

"Careful of that man on the bicycle," Brenda warned. Gloria swerved away into the adjacent lane, bringing on a blast from an angry horn. 

"What's their problem?" Gloria asked. Brenda knew better than to tell her.

Soon they were in the parking lot of the Sunrise School, the beneficiary of Gloria's Foundation. The school director greeted them as they strode up the walk leading to the front door.

It was a young woman who met them, although she looked older than she was by virtue of wearing no makeup and her hair packed tightly in a bun behind her head. She was slender and had on a long, rustic, cotton skirt—kind of a canvas cloth—and sandals underneath that. A pair of rimless spectacles completed the picture.

"Welcome, Mrs. Warner!" she gushed. "It was such a nice surprise when I received your call this morning.

"I already told you, Madeleine, you have to call me Gloria," she answered. The two women hugged one another. "You remember Brenda."

"Of course," Madeleine replied. "Welcome to you, too, Brenda." She released Gloria and reached out and grasped Brenda's hand. 

"I just couldn't stay away from my little darlings," Gloria admitted. "Now that you're all moved in, I thought I'd take a look and see how everything's working."

"It's all wonderful, thanks to you," Madeleine answered as they walked into her office. Gloria focused her attention to a wall where some children's artwork was on display. "Almost all our programs are in place," Madeleine announced.

Something in the answer didn't sound right to Brenda. She knew that Gloria would pick up on it, too.

"What do you mean, 'almost'," Gloria asked, snapping her head around.

Madeleine let out a sigh. I wasn't sure how to tell you, as she motioned Brenda and Gloria to chairs in front of her desk. Madeleine sat on the corner of her desk and folded her hands in her lap. 

"I don't know how to tell you this," the young woman repeated. "It was my fault, really. I didn't know how much..."

"Just tell us, Maddy," Gloria pleaded. 

"It's the ESL teacher. We were going to share the salary with another school nearby. I just couldn't have imagined our share would be so much."

"ESL?" Brenda asked.

"English as a Second Language," Gloria explained. "Most of these children speak Spanish in the home. The ESL program is aimed at teaching them English so that they can use it along side their Spanish when they need to."

"We just didn't have the funds to commit," Madeleine continued. "I asked for more money from United Way after I found out, but they insisted that their budget guidelines are very strict. Once our request was turned in, we couldn't ask for more."

"How much are you short?" Gloria asked.

"A lot, I'm afraid," the teacher answered.

"I want to hear a number," Gloria demanded. 

"Fifteen thousand!" Madeleine replied, nearly disbelieving her own words.

"That is a lot," Gloria agreed. 

"Maybe we could ask Western for it," Brenda suggested, "or one of the law firms downtown."

"That won't be necessary," Gloria said. She opened her purse and pulled out her checkbook. "Tell the ESL teacher not to go anywhere." She scribbled the details on a personal check and then tore it out of her book and handed it to Madeleine.

"Oh, I could never ask you to do this!" Madeleine exclaimed. "It's so much, and on such short notice. I couldn't!"

"Yes you can, and I insist that you take it."

Brenda looked at Gloria and saw the resolute expression. "Gloria, that's very generous. We could make some calls before you commit your own money." It was a side of Gloria that didn't come out often. Some never saw it. Brenda knew it was for real.

"It's nothing, and time's wasting," Gloria said. "These children need that ESL Program. I'm afraid that if we don't commit to it right away the teacher will get snapped up by some other school. We're only getting half-time as it is. It's a cornerstone program; it's a must if those children are to have any chance in school. It was unfair of United Way. Maddy is a teacher, not a bean counter, after all."

"If the children only knew what you do for them..." Madeleine said.

"I know," Gloria countered, "and that's enough.

"The children are getting ready for an assembly," Madeleine told them. "We have a birthday of one of the students today. Perhaps you'd like to attend."

Gloria jumped out of her chair. Madeleine and Brenda followed behind. In the gym the students were filing in; an assistant teacher was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a guitar. Gloria turned to Maddy with a questioning look.




The Brass Statuettes Ch. 06



"We have chairs, but the children pay better attention if they can sit on the floor," Maddy explained. Gloria turned back to the children. The woman with the guitar glanced at Madeleine, who nodded 'okay'.

Gloria took a place on the floor among the children she knew loved her so much. Brenda and Madeleine stood off to the side. A little boy came forward, wearing a crown made of construction paper.

"First they'll sing "Las Mananitas", which is the traditional birthday song in Mexico," Maddy explained to Brenda. "After that, they'll sing the traditional American "Happy Birthday" song. Then, they'll break the piñata and after that, we'll have a birthday cake." She pointed to a paper mache donkey on the other side of the gym. 

The Assistant introduced the birthday boy and immediately started strumming the guitar. On a downbeat she led the group in singing.

Estas son Las manañitas (These are the morning songs)  que cantaba el Rey David. (that King David sang.)

Hoy por ser día de tu santo (For today to be the day of your saint) te las cantamos así. 

(we sing to you like this.)  ¡Despierta, mi bien, despierta! (Wake up, my dear. Wake up!)

Mira que ya amaneció. See that it is already dawn...)  Qué linda está la mañana en que vengo a saludarte. (How beautiful is the morning in which I come to greet you...

Brenda listened to the singing and watched Gloria lose herself in the moment. She wondered what was happening as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. She had never soothed neglected feelings with borrowed children. At the same moment, she felt happy for Gloria and sorry, too.

Brenda knew enough to not mention her observation to her mentor—at least the sympathy part. Feeling sorry for Gloria was not permitted in Gloria's realm. Envy and admiration were acceptable emotions. Her feelings of pity began to change as they must, but she was not sure to what. 

When the festivities were over Brenda and Gloria returned to Madeleine's office.

"This was truly one of the nicest days I've had in a long time," Gloria proclaimed.

"We were glad to have you with us," Madeleine replied. "We always are."

"I was just wondering," Gloria asked, "Why did you use the guitar? I thought you would have used a piano."

"What piano?" Maddy replied. "That's on our wish list for next year."

"I can't believe that we didn't think of that when we set this up," Gloria said. 

"We'll manage 'til then," Maddy assured her.

"Is it a lot?" Gloria asked.

"We could pick up a good, used upright for about three thousand, plus moving costs," Maddy said. "We don't have a need for anything more than that."

Gloria fell silent; a pensive expression etched on her face.

"I couldn't ask it," Madeleine said, "especially after your donation for the ESL teacher's fees."

"I thought that the guitar was kind of nice," Brenda said.

"Yes, it was," Gloria agreed, "but in the back of the room I bet it wasn't loud enough to hear, and we'll have more students soon." Gloria paused again for a second and then her face brightened. "Why don't you pick this up, Bren? You'll be surprised how good you'll feel!"

"That's a nice idea, Gloria. I could talk to Blake..."

"Don't worry; Blake will understand. He'll never miss it, anyway. He'd spend that much on a new set of golf clubs." 

Brenda looked at Gloria, and then to Maddy, and back to Gloria. "Blake..." she began a feeble protest.

"Blake-shmake," Gloria interrupted. "I'll tell you what, I'll write the check right now and you can cover it when I see you next time."

Brenda could see that Gloria was in one of her excited, one-track moods. "I have my checkbook with me," she said.

"Better make it thirty-five hundred," Gloria said to her as Brenda began to write. "Piano movers can be very expensive."

********** 

"I didn't mean to trap you into buying that piano," Gloria said to Brenda as they drove back to Brenda's place. "It's just that I get so excited when I'm at the school."

"It's okay, Gloria. I'm glad to do it. It's just that Blake and I talk these things over first."

"We discussed the proper way to break that kind of news to the husbands last week at my house," Gloria reminded her.

As they approached Brenda's neighborhood she looked out the window at the stately homes and manicured lawns. It occurred to her that because her bank account was lighter from the piano donation, the guilt of all of it was less heavy. It had been a good investment. 

It would be worth it to let Blake know in Gloria's prescribed way; and, besides, she hadn't given him one in a while. 

"Yes, I remember," Brenda assured her. "Is that the way you're going to tell Alvin."

Gloria stopped the car at a red light. She drew a deep breath and turned her head to look at Brenda and a wry smile appeared. "Bren, by the time I get through telling Alvin about the fifteen thousand, he'll wish that I had written the check for twenty." 

Brenda laughed a bit. "I'll think I'll try that approach, too."

"There you go!" Gloria exclaimed. "As I've said many a time, 'Who says our work..."

"...can't be fun," Brenda finished the adage.

************ 

It was Friday morning; Gloria was trying hard not to stumble down the stairs. She would have stayed in bed for at least another hour, but it was exercise day and Raul would be showing up for her weekly session. She was tempted to call him and cancel until next week, but she realized too well that the weekly phys ed sessions were necessary for what she wanted.

Her bleary-eyed state had nothing to do with being hung over, insomnia or mood. It was just that she chose to inform Alvin about the fifteen thousand dollars that she donated to the preschool and that meant a nightful of sex to help him see it her way. Gloria had nearly forgotten how physically demanding sex could be, if performed a certain way; and of course, she hadn't received the number of hours of sleep she was used to.

As she was nearly finished descending the stairs, she saw Juana off in the kitchen, carving up her grapefruit. She wondered if grapefruit and dry toast would be enough to get her through one of Raul's torture sessions. 

Actually, she had been surprised how well things had gone with Alvin the night before. Alvin was agreeable about the donation without the benefit of physical persuasion. He chuckled and mumbled something about taxes and then kissed her. It wasn't a deep soul-kiss, just an affectionate one on the forehead. It tripped a wire inside her, however, and she decided to give him the full treatment, anyway. 

As much as she was surprised by offering herself to husband gratuitously, Alvin surprised her even more. He refused to allow her to perform her oral arts until he had first sent her to nirvana with a climax of her own; and then she let him come inside her. He said something about 'not wasting it.' It had been years since she felt as loved or wanted. She felt so good that after she recovered from the first act she teased him back to erection and gave him the oral service that she'd planned to perform in the first place. All that, along with the related foreplay, had taken more time than she had budgeted for the task, and that cut in on her sleep time.

So, although she felt like staying in bed and couldn't, she was in a good mood. A night of renewal with Alvin, on top of the happy time at the Preschool was too much for her to expect. It never crossed her mind to capitalize on the euphoria—to find the cause and make it happen again and again. In Gloria's book each chapter was a short story, standing on its own, having nothing to do with the past or future.

She just hoped that Juana and her husband hadn't heard her primal orgasmic scream in the wee hours of the morning. She consoled herself in the knowledge that the windows were closed due to the air conditioning, so the sound would never have carried out to Juana's and José's cottage.

"Buenos dias, Señora Warner," Juana said as she poured the coffee.

"Buenos dias to you," Gloria answered back as she sat down.

Juana snapped her head up and swiveled it around to look at the Señora. Gloria noticed and realized that it was because she so seldom spoke, or even acknowledged the meaning of the simplest Spanish phrases. The maid placed the bowl of grapefruit before her. "Dee toast weel be 'eer in a meenute," she said.

Gloria noticed that Juana's mood was better than usual, even taking account the exchange of Spanish 'good mornings'. It darkened Gloria's outlook slightly. "She knows. She must have heard us last night. How do these Mexicans always know so much about these things?"

"Señor Alveen was very 'appy dees morning," Juana volunteered in a sing-song voice, perhaps in reciprocity to her mistress' civility.

Gloria exhaled a sigh of relief. "Alvin must have said something—or she read between the lines." That was alright with Gloria. It wasn't that she was embarrassed at having sex—just any of the physical manifestations of it. It reminded her to go upstairs and check the sheets on the bed for telltale traces before Juana got up there to make them.

Gloria finished her toast and took a last gulp of coffee. She looked at her watch and realized that she barely had enough time to get out to the mini-gym for her stretching before Raul arrived. There would be no time for hiding stains in the bed sheets. "What the hell—she' already figured it out, anyway." She rose from the table and made her way to the mini-gym.

******** 

TO BE CONTINUED

Dear Readers,

Thanks for reading. I hope you're enjoying the story so far. Don't forget to send me your comments.

AW



The Brass Statuettes Ch. 07



© Copyright 2007

Chapter 7— Changing the Rules of the Game

Gloria lay prone on the massage table; Raul worked over the backs of her thighs with the rolling pin. The exercise session exhausted her even more than usual, so the massage felt extra good. After a minute or so she felt him shifting the pressure upward, toward her private zone and she knew what he was leading up to. 

"Would you like the Deluxe Workout today, Señora Warner?" he asked as his hand accidentally grazed over her buttocks and he bent his head close to her ear. 

"I think I'll pass today, Raul," she replied. She felt his pressure on her legs lessen and the enthusiasm drain out of the back and forth strokes of the rolling pin. She thought for a second and considered a change of mind. It could be an error to disappoint him, and good help was hard to find. But, her night with Alvin was on her mind, too.

"In that case, Señora, I think we are done for the day," he said after a few finishing passes with the rolling pin.

Gloria realized that she had, indeed, disappointed him. She so seldom refused him, but Raul was a man, after all, so she knew that once a man became infused with certain expectations, rejections were not taken lightly. It was true of any man, and Raul, although an employee, was included. It was she, after all, who always admonished her girls to enjoy their work.

Raul backed away from the massage table and Gloria eased herself off and to her feet. He looked away from her as he folded his things and replaced them in his gym bag while he waited for his payment.

"I'm sorry, Raul," she apologized. "It's only because..." She paused in the explanation because she suddenly realized that she had started to render one without knowing what she would say. She took a deep breath, "It's kind of embarrassing..." she started to say, but that was just a play for a few more seconds' reprieve. Raul stopped folding his towel and looked at her with an expectant look. 

"It's just that it's my time of month," she blurted out. It was a boldfaced lie, face-saving for both of them, with the impossibility of contradiction. She wondered if Raul knew. He might, but would never say so—and that's what mattered at the moment. 

"I'm sorry, Señora Warner," Raul answered. "If you were not feeling well you could have called me and cancelled for this week."

His answer alarmed her. She wasn't sure if it was the patronizing way he said it, or the ease in which he was willing to forego her. Either way, she could not let it stand, but instinct told her that anger was not the way.

"I was going to call you," she said in her most feminine voice, "but I knew you'd be disappointed." She rubbed herself on him, being sure to crush the 'best tits in town' on his chest.

"No problem, Señora Warner. We'll see about it next week." He was smiling again; all was repaired.

Juana noticed that Raul looked uncharacteristically glum as he trod through the house on his way to the car. She smiled inwardly, mostly for Señor Alvin, but also for herself. Her hunches were correct.

"I'm going upstairs to take a shower, Juana," Gloria called from the stairway. She skipped the customary display of her sweaty leotard in place under her terrycloth robe. Her mind was on other things. The shower would be a good place to sort things out.

************* 

As Raul's car was leaving the Warner's drive, another was taking its place. This car was a newer model and a little more expensive. Juana saw it approaching and recognized it after a moment's thought. "Señora Trudy," she whispered aloud. Gloria had said nothing about expecting any guests. She wondered what would bring the tall, smiling lady out before the lunch hour.

Trudy was dressed more casually on this visit. She wore khaki slacks and a white cotton tee-shirt with sandals. When she got out of her car and approached the front door she carried a file folder, but no purse.

"Good morning, Señora Trudy," Juana gushed as she opened the front door as Trudy drew near to it.

"You remembered my name," Trudy smiled and was a little surprised. Juana knew that the gesture had pleased her. "Buenos dias to you."

"Dee Señora, chee ees een la ducha," Juana said.

"La ducha?" Trudy asked

"Si, chu know, la ducha," Juana repeated and raised her hands over her head and slowly lowered them with her fingers wiggling.

"Oh, you mean the shower," Trudy laughed.

"Si, dey are dee sem ting," Juana laughed along with her.

"Can I wait?" Trudy asked. "She's not expecting me, but I have to talk to her about something important."

"Chu may seet on dee veranda and I weel bring a café," Juana said. 

While Trudy waited for Juana she ventured onto the grounds to admire the gardens. There were many beds, each with its own theme. The best were the roses.

"Dee gardens, dey are dee work of my hosban'," Juana said to her. Trudy remembered that Juana had told her that once before, but didn't correct her because she detected the pride in the older woman's voice. The maid left the coffee on the veranda table and joined Trudy in the garden. 

"These are truly beautiful," Trudy said. "You husband has great talent. I wish I could make my yard look like this."

"José say, 'chu must teenk like dee flowairs'."

"Well, he must be reading their minds," Trudy replied.

Juana let Trudy observe the garden for a minute, and then she spoke again. "All of dee señoras," Juana began, "dey love dee flowairs, but no to work in dee garden. All dee plaisure ees for dem—dee work ees for others. Ees dee reason dey are so sad." Juana stole a glance at Trudy and saw that her glancing back. "Eet ees taking, but no geeving."

Trudy turned and looked at Juana. "Is that how you think of us?" she asked.

"I dun' know. I wose talkin' about flowairs," Juana replied.

"Maybe so," Trudy said, half to herself.

"I go to dee house now and tell dee Señora dat chu are 'eer," the maid said. She abruptly turned and Trudy by herself in the garden.

********** 

Before Trudy returned to the table on the veranda she had quite a few minutes to herself to finish perusing the gardens, enjoy her coffee and think about what Juana had said to her. "Not all the smart people went to college," she thought to herself. She could feel the rising sun's growing heat, but it hadn't reached its noon apex so the morning was still pleasant; the brightness showed off the roses' colors. 

"Trudy, I didn't expect you," Gloria appeared at the French doors leading to the veranda. She called for Juana. "Bring me some coffee, please and refill Mrs. Bennett's, too."

"I'm sorry to barge in like this," Trudy apologized. "I was on my way to the Post Office to check the box and I thought I should speak to you."

"You already opened a Post Office Box for the Foundation?" Gloria asked with a note of surprise in her voice. "That was really efficient. I knew that we chose the right person as the Corresponding Secretary."

"That was the easy part," Trudy cautioned her. "There are a lot more details that I think need taking care of."

"What do you mean?" Gloria asked. "I thought that we were doing just fine. We just completed the financing of the Preschool..."

"That was when you were doing it by yourself," Trudy explained, "and that was fine. There are five of us now and it will mean a lot more activity and doing things a different way."

"Like what? I'm unclear about what you're talking about." 

"For example," Trudy explained, "we have no letterhead to write letters on. Any letter we write should go out on official Foundation stationery. Another thing, I think we need a phone line for the Foundation and an answering service, instead of using your home phone. And then there's a possible website on the internet..."

"I see—I see," Gloria conceded. "None of those things seemed necessary before."

"Frank said that the directors should be covered by special liability insurance; and look, here is the list you gave me of everyone that you wanted to receive announcements. There are over a hundred—and I thought of over twenty-five more. That means sending all those and receiving a hundred possible replies. That will lead to more letters. There will be filing and..."

"Are you saying that I created a monster?" Gloria asked.

"No," Trudy answered, "it's just proving to look a lot more complex and we want to do things the right way."

"So you want to hire some staff?" Gloria countered.

"That's not up to me," Trudy admitted. "There would be even more complications if we take on employees, not to mention the costs."

"But you don't think you can do it alone?" Gloria probed.

"Not for long," Trudy replied. "I can put my finger in the dike for a while. We need to get the others involved and help with some of these details."

"That will never work," Gloria scoffed. "The others aren't in this to be secretaries. They have better things to do. So do I."

Trudy frowned at the insult. As hurtful as it was, she realized that Gloria had a good point. The mental image of Ashley or Darlene, or even Brenda breaking their manicured nails while stuffing envelopes and typing letters was hard to believe. 

"I know that didn't come out right," Gloria consoled her. "I didn't mean it the way it sounded. You're saying that you can't do it alone, right?"

"That's right! This is a volunteer job. I can't work at it full time while the others just get dressed up once a week and schmooze with someone over an expensive lunch at a downtown café."

Gloria called Juana for more coffee. An interlude of silence interrupted the conversation; they sensed the impasse.

"Your gardens are beautiful," Trudy complimented her hostess in an effort to break the tension. "Juana showed me the roses." She thought of quoting Juana and her metaphor about gardening and giving. She was tempted because it fit so well, but stopped herself to keep Juana out of trouble.

"I wish that I had more time for them," Gloria sighed. "They're really the gardener's gardens. They make the grounds look nice, but there's not much satisfaction in them without putting a hand in."

"Why don't you tell him that you want to do part of it? Ask him to save one of the flower beds for you."

"I should," Gloria replied, "but I couldn't. I gave that life up long ago. I wouldn't even remember how to do it."

"Juana told me her husband says that one has to think like the flowers."

"She never told me that," Gloria said. "It seems that you're better acquainted with my help than I am." Gloria's eyes darkened and Trudy knew she had said too much. She was glad that she'd held back earlier. "Anyway," Gloria continued, "you can see how inscrutable these Mexicans can be. Only they would know what that's supposed to mean."

"I just thought that it was an interesting..."

"I know just the thing to solve our problem," Gloria interrupted suddenly. "We'll get our husbands' secretaries to help us in their spare time."

"I don't think we can..." Trudy started to reply

"That talk about the roses inspired me," Gloria said, with determined enthusiasm. "We'll get Alvin's secretary, and your husband's, and there'll be Brenda's husband's secretary and the rest."

"I can tell you what Frank will say when I ask him to twist Jeannette's arm," Trudy warned. 

"You can get men to do things if you ask them, you know, the right way," Gloria insisted.

"I know what you're talking about, Gloria. I've never done that and I won't..."

"We'll have to discuss that another time," Gloria went on, undeterred. "I have a plan to take care of it without getting our husbands involved, anyway."

"What plan?" Trudy asked. "I think we have to be careful about this."

"We'll invite all the secretaries for a pool party, right here at my house," Gloria announced. "Alvin was just saying how they all forgot to do something for them on Secretaries' Day. It'll be a make-up for that. Just the secretaries and the five of us. After a few drinks..."

"You've got to be kidding," Trudy scolded.

"This will work, I know it will. Even if they see through it, they won't dare refuse."

"I don't think it's fair..." 

"Would it be more fair for you to do all the work?" Gloria asked. "Because, that's what it'll be if we don't do it this way." Trudy paused, unhappy with either choice. "C'mon, the party will be great fun and if they all agree, they can all share the load and no one will have to do too much."

*********** 

"I'm glad Trudy had no part of it," Frank thought to himself as he rounded the corner into the underground Executive Parking Garage. He inserted his keycard into the reader. Over breakfast, Trudy had told him of Gloria's plan for the pool party for the executive secretaries. The excuse was to be billed as a make-up for the forgotten Secretaries' Day acknowledgement. "They were doing just fine without it." He didn't know why he was so against it—instinct just told him to be that way. Then, he realized that Trudy was involved even though it was all Gloria's idea. "Guilt by association," he deduced, and then cut the subject off. He had more important things on his mind.

It seemed like everywhere he turned he was surfboarding on quicksand. He told himself it was surfing Texas-style. As the elevator opened onto the Executive Suite, he was glad to encounter one of the few constants he could count on in his business life.

"Good morning, Mr. Bennett." Floyd's familiar greeting was as soothing a balm he could hope for. "In early again—as usual," he turned with a grin at Frank as he escorted him down the hallway to his office. 

"Floyd, you're getting to know me better than my wife," Frank quipped. "Does this mean we're engaged?"

It brought a belly laugh from the security guard. "I don't believe we're ready for that step, sir," he bantered back. He pulled the skeleton key from his pocket and unlocked Frank's office door.

"Thanks, Floyd," Frank said as he entered his office and sat at his desk. Floyd disappeared and Frank took a glance to review his calendar. He had several calls to make that morning. The New York bankers were coming around to the idea of the R&D financing plan, but it looked like a syndicated package with either Morgan-Chase or Citigroup taking the lead. So, Frank realized he didn't need to feel so bad. Things were hectic, but looking up. "I've got to start thinking about the 'how, not the if'." To him, there was a wide array of possibilities. He figured if he kept at it... "Then everything would turn out just right."

"Here's some coffee to get you started." Floyd said. He set the styrofoam cup on Frank's desk. 

"This will really hit the spot," Frank acknowledged. He took a sip of the steaming, black elixir. "Floyd, the only thing that stays the same around here is that you bring me an early coffee in a styrofoam cup and I say that it will hit the spot."

"And then you hustle to get rid of the evidence before Miss Jeannette sees it," Floyd completed the thought. 

"Do you think she doesn't know, or do you think she pretends not to know?" Frank asked.

Floyd scratched his head. "That's a tough one," he sighed. "She's never let on to me, but thinking about Miss Jeannette not knowing about something is hard to believe." 

"My guess is that she knows," Frank told him. "There've been too many close calls."

"You're probably right," Floyd chuckled. "I've never known anyone who could keep track of things the way she can."

Frank nodded with a wry smile as he began to turn to his day ahead.

"For example," Floyd went on, "look at all the goings on in the office over the past week." 

"What d'ya mean, Floyd," Frank asked as he scrolled through the e-mails on his computer screen.

"Everyone looking nervous all the time, and such," Floyd explained, "and that new young man in the Controller's office."

"That's temporary," Frank clarified. "He's doing a special job for me and I need him close at hand."

"Right, right," Floyd agreed. "Do you think he'll be up here permanently someday?"

"Maybe someday, but he's too young and still has to learn some things."

Frank picked up his cup of coffee. "I better get working on this before Jeannette comes in here and sees me with it," Frank said. Floyd nodded and turned to leave. "Have a good day, Floyd," he called after him.

************ 

Frank finished the coffee that Floyd gave him and then, as if on cue, Jeannette arrived at the office to start her day. "Would you let Aaron know that I want to see him, and his work papers, as soon as he gets in?" Frank asked. "He can have coffee here with me. It'll save time."

About ten minutes later Aaron was sitting at the work table in Frank's office. Jeannette brought them coffee. "Where do we stand on getting the forecast wrapped up?" Frank demanded.

"I met with Dr. Lowell on late Friday afternoon," Aaron recounted. "We went over all the projects and the timing. I worked the weekend to put it together."

"Good so far," Frank nodded.

"He made a lot of changes to the original plan," Aaron continued. "He did a lot of shuffling on projects, and some of them had effects on current-year revenues. It changed a lot of things. Some of his assumptions didn't sound realistic. It echoed right through the forecast." 

"Show me what you're talking about."

"I did an analysis showing the effects, reconciling the last forecast version to the present one."

"I see," Frank said as he paged through the pages of numbers. "There are a lot of plusses and minuses. What did you do with the capital spending?"

"I didn't do anything. I thought that I would talk to Mr. Hart. On some of Dr. Lowell's aggressive assumptions, I scaled things back a bit."

"No, you can't do that!" Frank scolded. "Is this Lowell's forecast or yours?" Aaron gave an embarrassed shrug. "You did right to analyze the changes. You should have stopped there. You'll have to redo it with Jason's pure numbers. Send me a copy and show it to Mr. Hart. There will have to be a redo of the capital spending, too."

"I don't understand..." Aaron began to speak. 

"Because whatever happens to the product development stream has an effect on the capital spending to support it," Frank explained. "Look Aaron, you've done a superb job on this so far. Don't drop the ball in the ninth inning."

"I...I won't," Aaron promised.

"If you do, we'll have to put you in the outfield for the Astros—you'll fit right in," Frank joked. "You get started on fixing your numbers. I'll talk with Blake and let him know what's coming, and ask him to clear some time for you. Call his secretary when you have a better idea when you'll be ready."

"The Astros are pretty good this year," Aaron said as he turned for a moment on his way out of the office, showing Frank that he had recovered from his scolding.

"I'm getting soft," Frank scolded himself. "In the old days, he'd be licking his wounds right now, not joking about baseball."

Aaron left the office and Frank picked up the phone and called Blake Hart. "You might have to bring a few of your guys in on this. Jason's made a lot of changes and I think he might not be realistic in his thinking. I can see at a glance that he hasn't even thought about the loss of the Wertheim R&D effort."

Frank listened as Blake told him that he would help sorting it out. Then he asked him how the Financing was proceeding.

"There are some good things happening," Frank replied. "I've got a meeting with Alvin in fifteen minutes to fill him in. I think I'll bend his ear on Jason at the same time."

Frank sat back in his chair thinking about Jason Lowell. Sure, he knew all about his big reputation in academia, and that was great. This was business and Jason didn't seem ready for it. He considered his sandbagging Aaron as unprofessional and he was sure Blake Hart felt the same. It would have to wait, however; Jason was in the job that he was in and even faint rumblings of a lack of confidence would have a seismic effect on Wall Street. Maybe Jason would be a fast study—maybe not.




The Brass Statuettes Ch. 07



************* 

Frank found himself in Alvin's office reviewing the status of the R&D financing efforts.

"There you have it," Alvin. "I think we can do it with a series of laddered debentures. We can draw funds as needed and the first principal payment won't be due until five years after the first draw. After that, it will be termed out from seven to ten years. Until then, we just pay the interest."

"Sounds real good," Alvin acknowledged. "What about the interest rate?"

"Probably prime, or a nip under. There are also commitment fees for the undrawn portion. The best thing is that the R&D effort will go forward irrespective of the status of the stock offering."

"I think it will be better that way," Alvin agreed. "And the Wertheim people can't dangle their R&D like a big carrot on a stick."

"So, it will be either Chase or Citi in the lead," Frank continued. "They'll lay off about half to several smaller banks. They're just waiting for our 10-Q to hit the Street and they'll need a forecast they can rely on." 

"When does the 10-Q go public?" Alvin asked.

"Day after tomorrow," Frank said. "SEC is reviewing it now. The forecast is the rub."

Alvin looked at Frank harder. "Whadd'ya mean?" 

"Jason is rearranging his R&D priorities and cost estimates," Frank explained. "It's going to have a big impact on Operations, and that means on everything."

"I told you to keep me informed on this," Alvin barked. "He's not going to do this. I'll stick my size ten up his ass, if I have to. None of that should be changing. He just did a major plan, for crissake."

"You're right, Alvin, I should have come to you sooner. I had a one-on-one with him last week and I thought we were straightened out. It was just this morning I found out he'd jerked our chain."

"Unless I miss my guess, he's rearranging the projects so that the guy he brought in from MIT gets first shot at the money. He made a couple comments to me on Friday, but I didn't know what he was up to."

"Geez, Alvin, if we could go back to the original..."

"Take Jason out of the loop and stick with the original plan," Alvin commanded. "I'll speak to him."

"We should wrap this up by tomorrow morning," Frank promised. "Then we'll prep you for the investors' teleconference."

"Call Jim Sweeney and get him up to speed," Alvin said. "I'll speak with Jason."

************ 

"Why're y'all so quiet tonight, Sugar-Plum?" Darlene asked her husband from across the dinner table.

"Bad day at work," Jason replied. "Things just seem so complicated right now."

"What kinds o' things are they?"

"It's complicated—you wouldn't be interested," Jason voice trailed off.

"Maybe Ah could help straighten things out," she drawled in her softest voice and unfastened the top button of her blouse.

"I can't think about things like that right now." Jason stared past her, to a random spot on the wall behind her and over her head. He continued chewing his mouthful of food.

"Ah jus' thought that some lovemakin' would help relax you," she explained with the hurt just barely hidden below the crest of her voice.

"Maybe later—but not right now," Jason brushed her off again.

Darlene's eyes welled with tears, but she wiped them away before he could see them. "There was a time when you wouldna' said that," she protested. "You'd not've said a word. We'd be runnin' t' the bedroom right now." 

"We're older now, Darlene," Jason answered. "I've got important things on my mind."

"Well, one o' them things sure ain't me! I may be olda', but I don' think that Ah'm so undesirable," she pleaded.

Jason winced as the realization of her hurt feelings dawned on him. "I'm sorry, it's not you, Darlene" Jason recanted. "You're just as beautiful as you always were—better, actually. It's just that in this new job all my problems are so much bigger now."

"Do ya really think Ah'm more beautiful today," she asked, recovering her mood and batting her eyelids at him.

"Without a doubt." 

"An' why's that, might Ah ask?" she cooed. She moved to the chair beside him and unfastened the next button on her blouse.

"C'mon, Darlene—don't make me tell you. You know how that kind of thing embarrasses me."

"Please tell Darlene, Sugar-Plum. Y'all know how Ah love t' hear it."

"Well, you know," Jason stammered, "like I said, you know—it's because when women are in their twenties they're beautiful by default; when they're older it's because they choose to be beautiful."

Darlene leaned close and stretched out her hand behind Jason's head and played with his hair. "Why don't we go upstairs and let me show you the whole package," she whispered.

Jason said nothing, but Darlene knew that he was mulling the offer. "Ah find these clothes so confinin'." She reached with her free hand and smoothed it along his thigh, making certain that his erection was blooming under his slacks.

"What about the dishes?" he asked.

"They'll wait," she whispered. She had already stood and started walking toward the stairs.

Jason followed her. She just kept marching to the bedroom, not looking behind her. When they arrived there she made a detour to the bathroom. "Get undressed and wait fo' me," she bade him. "Ah'm goin' to get mahself ready for you."

Jason did as ordered. In the bathroom Darlene didn't need to peek out the door to know what scene she would find. Jason was nude, lying on the bed. His penis would be flying at full mast, a flagpole looking for a flag. He was there waiting on the bed in the dusky light. He pulled a sheet over his lower half—some sort of weird modesty—and a little tent sprouted over his groin. She knew because it never changed.

She kicked away her shoes and stripped off her knee-high nylons. She removed her slacks and folded them. Her special perfume in a bottle with a misting top was in the cabinet. She brought it out and puffed a little behind each ear, and then bent to apply some on the soft skin behind her knees.

As she straightened up she caught sight of the image of herself in the mirror. She smirked a little. She truly was still beautiful. It wasn't the girlish pulchritude of her beauty pageant days, although with a just a trace of imagination one could envision it. Her face still had fine features and those thighs hadn't even a hint of growing together. In those former days, it was gratuitous beauty for the taking. In the evening glow it was hers for the giving, for the years had given her knowledge to add to her looks.

There were only a few remaining preparations to perform before her entrance. She dropped her panties to her knees and misted her vulva with the magic perfume. The pubic hair was darker than that on her head from lack of sun exposure, but naturally blonde.

There were a few things that she had brought out of the cabinet along with the perfume—secret things known only to Jason and her. One was a bottle of clear, lubricating fluid that she poured over an elongated silicone object. She reached down and behind her, easing it past her sphincter with practiced fingers, and then pulled her panties back up. She stood straight up and relaxed herself, to let her inner body embrace the marital aid. The filling was beginning to feel like pleasure already.

The last step was to unbutton her blouse the rest of the way, except for the button in the center, which straddled the thin line between alluring promise and hiding what was yet to be given. She put some lube on her fingertips and spread the liquid on the insides of her labia—in case Jason wasn't willing to wait. She took a last look in the mirror and fluffed her hair. She was ready to go to him.

************ 

She could see him easily, even in the half-light of dusk. It might have been as simple as the mere physical act of seeing, or it may have been what her mind told her to see—like being able to read a road sign from a great distance—after having repeated the act so many times. It was a distinction she didn't ponder. The sight of him lying on his back, motionless beneath the sheet was familiar and good. She started to moisten.

There was a little tent raising the light sheet in the spot that covered the business end of him, as she would have predicted. She didn't question the ritual, but she never really knew if it was a false modesty or if his lack of confidence prevented him from lying in gross display. It was a question better saved for later.

"Is Mommy's li'l boy all covered up?" she cooed in her deepest saccharin drawl as she walked slowly to the side of the bed that he occupied. She stood over him, hovering as she gazed down as he gazed up at her. "May Ah see?" she asked; a question to which she expected no reply, and knew the answer. 

She stepped closer to the side of the bed. Her bare thighs pressed against the mattress. She watched him turn his head to the side toward her and breathe in a gulp of air, laden with the perfume she had sprayed in her most private place. He closed his eyes and returned his face upward, not exhaling, trapping the aroma as if he could make it his own.

She took a corner of the sheet between her index finger and thumb. "Ah'll just lift this sheet off an' see fo' mahself." She did, with a delicate lifting, peel the sheet away. He was nude, as she knew he would be. When the sheet was removed, she paused and looked down at him. Jason didn't move, at least voluntarily. There was the raising and lowering of his chest as he panted. The depth of his breath crescendoed as he waited for her. The erect penis bobbed up, perhaps inflated just slightly more. In all other things he was disciplined in not moving a limb, or even a facial muscle. 

She waited a little longer. It may have been cruel, she knew, but was necessary to achieve the full effect. Finally, as the impatient penis bobbed up it happened. The clear droplet of fluid appeared from the slit on the top. "Oh, mah dear, you're leakin'," she sang in feigned surprise. "You're always so messy. Mommy will clean this raht up." 

She bent from the waist over his organ. Her mouth was wide open as she prepared to engulf it. It stood straight up to assist her and she heard him gasp as her long tresses brushed his thighs and her face drew closer to his groin. She bent lower and felt the plug of silicone buried in her, which served as a reminder to see the whole ritual through to conclusion. She abruptly closed her gaping mouth flicked out her tongue. Just barely touching him, she snatched the droplet, rolled it over her taste buds and pronounced it good to herself. She heard him moan—whether in disappointment or anticipation. She turned her face toward his and treated him to an evil grin. 

The insistent penis continued pointing at her and she bent low again. Pursing her lips in a kiss, she touched them to the crown, allowing them to linger softly on it for a few delicious seconds. She raised herself as he gasped, and then abruptly stood.

The quick motion made the plug shift within her and she felt her own sensations sharpening. She retreated several steps away from the bed. "Would you like t' see me without mah clothes?" 

"Yes!" he gasped, as she knew he would.

"If her li'l boy is good, Mommy'll strip fo' him," she cooed. "Are you a good boy?" She didn't wait for the answer; his silence was enough. "What would mah baby like t' see first?"

"The pussy," was his whispered reply

She hooked her thumbs into the waist band of her panties and pushed them down to her knees. She watched his eyes burn holes in her pelvis. It was bare, but the bottom of her blouse covered what he longed for in a cruel peek-a-boo, save in the mind's eye. She lifted a leg and the undergarment fell to the floor.

With the silky band removed from around her knees she could spread her legs, which she did. The act released the greatest part of the mixed aroma and it tumbled out into the air, filling his nostrils, and the room. She clenched the muscles in her buttocks to ensure that the plug would stay in place. The tightening made her more impatient, but she was resolved to skip no steps. She wet the middle fingers of her right hand with her tongue and reached down and smoothed them over her clitoris. It felt very good.

She gave him an impish grin. "Would y'all like me t' go the rest o' the way?"

She took the last button of her blouse between her slender fingers and released it. The blouse fell open. In doing so, what he sought came into view; she had one final promise to keep. Without further ceremony she pressed back her shoulders and the blouse fell to the floor. Only the lacy bra remained. She took a few steps to the bed. "Want me t' finish, Sugar-Plum?" 

"Please..." 

She reached behind her and undid the clasp. It was imperfect, too ungraceful to complement what had gone before. "I must remembah t' buy some that close in the front." She held the bra in place and then drew it away slowly, down her shoulders and then her arms.

She was the beauty queen he had won for himself. Long and slender, and a natural southern blonde, with proud breasts just the right size; she stood still so that he could view her and her perfumed aroma could invade him. She loved it when he looked at her that way. It reconfirmed her glory, not yet lost. She was excited because she knew it made him want her. She would use her body to please him, but not quite yet. She cupped her breasts and raised them up in offering. 

"Do you want to feel them?" He grunted a hoarse 'yes'. "You shall—all you want—but not for a few minutes." She was in desire, herself—a bit over-stimulated from the marital aid and her appreciation of her own artistry in seduction. So, she deviated from the script—which she sometimes did at her option—and decided to see to her pleasure first. 

She dipped her fingers once again to her fold and verified her ripeness. She traced the slickened fingers along his lips. "Lick them clean," she commanded, and he did.

Reaching over his head to the headboard, she grabbed it with both hands and planted her left knee along side his ear and slung her right leg over him. She sank down, wondering and hoping that he had a chance to catch a breath, and adjusted herself until she knew that her labia pressed against his mouth. 

She began a rocking motion, using the headboard as a brace until she felt his hands on her hips and his tongue probing for her pleasure. She let him take over, concentrating on the dual pressures from in front and behind. She took a chance and let go of the headboard to grasp her breasts. When orgasm approached, she opened herself, accepted it. The tensing and release took possession of her—for only a minute—and then she was satisfied. Without waiting she slid lower to be face-to-face with him.

"Take me!" she demanded. He let her slide onto him. It felt good to have him inside her. She knew he wanted to come soon and that suited her, so she tightened herself, and it felt a little better, yet. Soon he had finished taking her. The lay satisfied on the bed side-by- side.

********** 

When the glow had nearly worn off, she propped herself on her elbow and stroked his temples, which she knew he liked.

"Are you still tense, Sugar-Plum?" she asked.

"A lot less than before," he admitted with a smirk.

It wasn't the perfect answer. She halted the massage. "Whatevah could it be at that office?" she demanded.

"You wouldn't understand."

"Why don' you try me, Sugar-Plum?" she pleaded.

"It's just that my budget for all my plans has gone up in smoke," he blurted. "Frank Bennett promised to get the money but I know he won't deliver. He wants me to do it piecemeal. He sent some little Jew from downstairs to tell me."

"Ah thought ev'ryone liked Frank," Darlene replied. 

"I heard through the grapevine that he's got Jim Sweeney on his side."

"Who's Jim Sweeney?" Darlene asked in puzzlement.

"An influential director—and he's got Alvin wrapped around his little finger, too. Alvin called me in his office and leaned on me out this afternoon."

"Didn't you tell him?" Darlene asked.

"They don't understand," Jason snapped back at her. "They think they can pass out the money in little pieces and—presto!—a new product comes out like putting money in a vending machine. Scientists are special human beings. Only I know how to handle them. I've got to get the grant money to MIT first thing, or they'll pull the plug and sign on with someone else."

"Jason, honey, Ah'm sure if you explain yourself to..."

"I'm wondering if it's all worthwhile," he said. "I heard there's an opening for a Dean at Georgia Tech."

"You mean goin' back to the college life?" she demanded, her voice full of alarm. 

"Well, yes," he replied, "the money isn't as much, but..."

"Well you got that all wrong, Sugar-Plum," Darlene leaned down, her face inches from her husband's. Her breasts crushed into his chest, but she didn't notice. "Ah'm not goin' back t' that life--not with what we've got right here."

"I know it's not as much, Darlene, but the salary would still be good," he pointed out.

"You think that's all it is?" she shot back. "What about all the pretendin' Ah'd have t' do all ovah ag'in?" she demanded with tears welling in her eyes.

"Pretending?"

"Why yes!" she insisted. "Pretendin' that overalls are fashion statements and that Ah give a damn about all the stupid little causes that the professors' wives come up with an' they think Ah've got all the time in the world to devote to 'em. And then there's pretendin I acshully injoy ridin' in those tiny li'l cars. I can't take it ag'in."

"Darlene, I didn't know..."

"Ah didn't know, either, 'til Ah got here. Ah like bikinis and swimmin' pools an' ev'nin' gowns. Ah want a chauffer t' drive mah car so Ah can get soused at Gloria's pool in the afta-noon." She looked sternly at him. "Ah love all those things. Ah won't go back t' that otha' life."

"I was just thinking out loud, Darlene. Why don't we make love again?"

"Ah don't think Ah'll be in the mood—not until you promise me..."

"I promise," he swore. 

"Don' lie to me," she warned him.

He smoothed his hand over her shapely backside. 

"Promise!" she demanded.

"I do promise," he repeated.

She paused for a second, looking into his eyes for proof. She let him fondle her buttocks some more and she was reminded of the plug that remained deep inside. She let her hand trail down his chest and past his belly. He was hard again, and that, she told herself, meant that he thought that she was still beautiful. That, in turn, meant that he loved her, which proved that he was sincere. 

*********** 

TO BE CONTINUED...

Dear Readers,

Thanks for reading. I hope you're enjoying the story so far. I always enjoy receiving your comments and questions. 

Good reading and best regards,

AW



The Brass Statuettes Ch. 08



Chapter 8—Seeking the Eye of the Hurricane

Frank sat back in his office chair. He was waiting for a call from Jim Sweeney and he deserved a few moments' relaxation. The financing package for the R&D program was nearly put together; the forecast was done, and held together well. Soon, he would be able to call Jason Lowell into his office and let him in on it. Until it was a done, he had to keep things strictly confidential. "Maybe, when I tell him about the funding we can kiss and make up," he thought to himself. He knew that Alvin had issued Jason a pretty harsh verbal flogging, based largely on what Frank had told him, but Jason richly deserved it.

"At this level, the boss shouldn't have to scold Vice-Presidents like schoolboys." Maybe Jason would be different after this—the kind of executive everyone expected him to be.

The intercom buzzed. "Mr. Sweeney is on the line," Jeannette's soft voice told him.

Frank picked up the phone. 

Frank: "Hello Jim, Frank here."

Sweeney: "Hey, Frank! How's that sexy secretary of yours?"

Frank: "Just as sexy as ever. I'd like to fill you in on the financing arrangements for the R&D program."

Sweeney: "Just what I was hoping to hear. I'm all ears.

Frank: "I think it's not a bad package. It'll be prime-minus-one; laddered debentures with principal payments starting in three years with maturities in stages over the next seven years after that."

Sweeney: "How much is the package worth?"

Frank: "Four hundred million. We draw on it as we need it. They'll hold the commitment open for three years."

Sweeney: "Who're we doin' business with on this, Frank?"

Frank: "Chase-Morgan is the lead. We deal with them. I think they're planning to lay off part of it—maybe to insurance companies."

Sweeney: "Sounds too good to be true. What am I missing here?"

Frank: "They want a mortgage on the new R&D facility and security interests on any patents. They also want some offsetting deposits. That will tie us up somewhat, in case we want to do a sale and lease-back of the property, or license the patents."

Sweeney: "I see your point." 

Frank: "I'm working on these details now. We might have to start that way and then renegotiate something later. All-in-all, I think it's the best deal available to us."

Sweeney: "And it cuts out the Wertheim deal!"

Frank: "Not necessarily, but it does de-link the R&D program from Wertheim. They should never have been jammed together in the first place."

Sweeney: "That was Mueller's and Lambert's doing."

Frank: "Alvin asked me to tell you that he's on board with this."

Sweeney: "I couldn't be happier, Frank. When's the closing date?

Frank: "We're just waiting for the SEC to pass on the 10-Q and for our forecast, which looks good. It shouldn't be long."

Sweeney: "Keep me posted. Now I've got to run—plane to catch."

Frank: "Have a good flight." 

Frank hung up the phone and left his office to refill his coffee cup. Jeannette saw him and reached out to take his cup from him.

"That's okay, Jeannette; I've got it." He went to the coffee pot hidden in the corner and poured some into his cup. "Jim Sweeney says 'hello'."

"Mr. Sweeney is very charming," Jeannette replied. "I think he enjoys flirting with the secretaries."

"Maybe not all the secretaries, but you're definitely on his A-list."

"Me—how did I get there? I definitely didn't ask to be put on it."

"I think Jim is a guy who appreciates the finer things," Frank said.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"I would," Frank answered. "Not to change the subject, but..."

"Go right ahead and change the subject, Frank."

"I was wondering if you're planning to go to that pool party Gloria Warner is putting on."

"I was assuming that there would be too much work to do," Jeannette replied. "Most of the girls are all excited over it."

"But, you're not?"

"I've heard the Warners have a pretty nice place. I'm not sure what else is in store."

"Confidentially, they're going to twist your arm to volunteer to give them some free help on the charity foundation."

"I suspected something like that. Is Trudy in on this?"

"In a way," Frank said. "They tried to dump all the clerical work on her and she said that she wouldn't do it alone. She thought that Gloria and the other wives would pitch in, but Gloria came up with this idea, instead. Whether you decide to help them is strictly up to you. For that matter, you can attend or not as you please."

"I'll think about it."

"Why don't you go? Gloria's bound to put out a first-class spread, and you've sure earned an extra day off. Just be sure not to get roped into something that you don't want to do."

"I'll remember that," Jeannette promised.

"Or, I could find a project for you so you would have an excuse," Frank offered.

"Hey Frank, wait up—I need to speak with you." Frank recognized Tyler Smith's voice. He turned and saw Tyler marching toward him wearing a stern expression.

"C'mon in; get yourself a coffee," Frank said.

Tyler was right on Frank's heels, ignoring the offer of coffee, as they disappeared behind the office door.

"I take it you haven't heard," Tyler said as they made their way to Frank's desk.

"Heard what?"

"Get on the internet. Take a look at our stock price," Tyler replied.

Frank turned to his computer and logged in. As soon as he was on the stock quotations page he typed in WC, the ticker symbol for Western Chemical.

"Geez, what do you make of it, Tyler?"

"You don't know the half of it," Tyler warned.

Frank wasn't sure he wanted to know more. Western Chemical stock, which closed at forty-eight dollars the day before, had fallen to thirty-three. Trading in Western stock had been halted by the exchange.

"What's the other half?" Frank asked.

"Short interest tripled at the opening bell. There's been very large trading in out-of-the- money put options. At least they were out-of--the-money at the opening bell. It's triggered a tremendous sell-off."

"I didn't think we had a lot of short interest," Frank pointed out.

"We don't—that's why it tripled so easily."

"This is crazy," Frank protested. "There's no reason for this—unless..."

"Mr. Anthony Graziano is on the line, Frank," Jeannette interrupted through the intercom. Graziano was the Chairman of the Stock Exchange. Frank had met him briefly on two social occasions during his Controller days.

"Stay right here, Tyler. I might need you," Frank said. "I'm going to put him on the speaker phone after I let him know."

Frank picked up the phone and spoke to his caller for a few seconds. He pressed the speaker button and hung up the phone.

Frank: Hello Tony; can you hear me? I have Tyler Smith here with me. He is our General Counsel and Corporate Secretary.

Graziano: How do you do, Tyler. Listen, Frank! We've had to suspend trading in Western to allow a cool-off. You were down over thirty percent during the first hour of trading.

Frank: We're just finding out now. We have no idea...

Graziano: There're rumors all around that you're pulling back your stock offering. Some think your 10-Q went south. Others say that you're pulling the plug on your R&D. In this market all you have to do is light a fire cracker and people think it's a cannon.

Frank: Neither of those are true, Tony. We put the registration on the shelf because the market's so low. We've got alternate financing for our R&D nearly in place—we just need the 10-Q. After that gets out on the street, everyone will see that we're in good shape. 

Graziano: I'm probably talking out of school, Frank. The SEC told us that they're suspending acceptance of the 10-Q.

Frank: That's crazy! They have no reason. Then, we will have to put the brakes on our R&D because the financing will be held up.

Graziano: I'm just the messenger. They think that there's insider trading going on. That's why they haven't called you yet. They're talking about an investigation.

Frank: Oh, for crissake...

Graziano: You can't blame them. First they get the shelf registration and the 10-Q and on the same day the rumors start flying, and all this short trading. You can't blame them for being suspicious. 

Frank: It's obvious there's some manipulation going on, but we have no idea...

Graziano: Bottom line is that we can only keep your stock on hold for a limited time. If we free it now, it could go into the twenties.

Frank: How long have we got?

Graziano: I can give you until three, Eastern Time. I know that's only two o'clock your time. It's the best I can do. Sellers have to be able to put their trades through before the Market closes today, if that's what they want to do. I need a statement from Western for publication. Give us something that will calm the market down.

Frank: We'll put something together ASAP and get it on the wire to you. 

Graziano: Good luck on this Frank. Let me know what I do to help. Good-bye.

Frank turned to Tyler. "We've got to move fast, Tyler. Can you clear your desk and help me on this?"

"What do you think happened, Frank? Who would let this get out?"

"We'll figure that out later," Frank answered. "Right now we have no time for that."

"What do want me to do?"

"First get on the horn with Al Crossman at Briggs and Day. Tell them what's going on. We've got to get that 10-Q released. That's priority number one! It might take legal maneuvering to force the SEC to shake it loose. After that, can you draft a statement that we can release to the public—something that says that we're in good shape and no one should worry. It should have Alvin's and my name on it."

"Should I say anything about the shelf registration?"

"Cover that with Crossman. In the meantime, "I'm going to fill Alvin in before he starts getting calls. After that, I'll call the outside auditors. Their name's on that 10-Q, too."

Frank flipped the switch on the intercom. "Jeannette, would you call Alvin's secretary and ask if I can see him right away? Then call Larry Bates and tell him to stand by. I want to see him right after I meet with Alvin."

*********** 

Frank was in Alvin's office, sitting in front of his desk.

"I don't believe this," Alvin mumbled, his face in his hands. "Who would do something like this?" 

"I don't know," Frank answered. "That can't be our priority right now.

"What should we be doing?" Alvin asked as he looked up at Frank.

"We've got to calm our big investors before the stock opens up for trading again," Frank said. "That would be US Equity Mutual and CGEPT." The former was a mutual fund company; the later a state government employees' pension trust. "They've probably got trading programs that are set to dump as many of our shares as they can the moment trading opens back up. We've got to convince them to hold off. That will help stabilize things."

But this so unfair," Alvin protested. "There's no reason for this..."

"You're correct, Alvin, but it's happening."

"Well, what if they do sell? Sooner or later they'd be sorry. We can't help it if they can't..."

"Our stock will tank—even more than it already has—and the loose shares will get picked up for a song by LBO takeover artists. How would you like KKR acquiring five percent of the company overnight? I don't think we can let that happen."

"I see now," Alvin sighed. "You'd better stay here with me while I make the calls."

"I suggest putting them on the speaker-phone," Frank said. Alvin pressed the intercom switch and asked his secretary to place the first call.

*********** 

The conversation with US Equity Mutual went well. They had been waiting for a call and accepted Frank's explanation. They agreed to disengage their sell program and hold fast. Alvin's confidence improved after they hung up. He and Frank sipped on their coffees while Alvin's secretary put through the call to CGEPT.

"A lot of times those California guys can be aggravating with their laid-back attitudes," Frank said with a chuckle. "This time, it's working out for us."

Alvin laughed with him. "It's funny," he said, "they seemed to be very accommodating. Just between us, when the Board was deciding whether to appoint you as CFO, they lobbied to select someone else."

"Ancient history now. They're stuck with me."

"For what it's worth," Alvin continued, "the CGEPT people were one of those backing you."

Soon they were on the speaker phone with Murray Shoreham. He was Chief Investment Officer of CGEPT. 

"So, what's gong on here?" Shoreham demanded. 

Frank explained about the shelf registration and the financing of the R&D.

"That doesn't explain all this short interest," Shoreham insisted.

"It looks like security was broken and someone is taking advantage," Alvin said.

"Well, why isn't the 10-Q out?" Shoreham asked. "It should have been out today."

"The SEC is holding it up. They haven't said why, but we think they're preparing an investigation of potential insider trading.

"So, they leave you dangling in the wind. The price of your shares tanks and they launch an investigation and then say 'see what a good job we're doing'.

"Sounds pretty accurate," Frank replied.

"Look, guys," Shoreham said, "I'd like to help you out, but I've got to dump some of your shares. We've got our criteria..."

"The 10-Q will bear us out," Frank argued. "We have our lawyers working on getting it freed up now."

"Let me see the 10-Q, then," Shoreham insisted. "Wire me a copy."

"You know we can't do that," Frank answered.

"I know—I know..."

"US Equity has already agreed to hold off," Frank blurted out.

"You're not supposed to tell me that, either," Shoreham pointed out.

"It slipped out," Frank replied. "You didn't hear me say it."

The line went silent for a quarter of a minute.

"I'll hold off overnight," Shoreham conceded. "I'll be in Houston in the morning. Have someone pick me up at the airport and bring me to your place."

"No problem," Frank said. "Have your secretary call mine with the flight number."

"See you tomorrow," Shoreham said, and then hung up the phone.

"It looks like things are falling into place," Alvin said as he sat back in his chair.

"So far, so good," Frank answered. "Can you call Jim Sweeney and fill him in? I've still got some things to do." 

************ 

"Larry Bates says that he's ready any time you are," Jeannette said as Frank appeared from around the corner. 

"Ask him to come in right away."

Larry Bates was a tall, gaunt man of about sixty. He had white hair and black-rimmed glasses. He had been Treasurer for a decade and was happy when Frank acceded to the top financial slot. He appeared in Frank's office and took a chair at the work table.

"Larry, we need to do some contingency planning and we have to do it fast," Frank told him after explaining the crisis. "On one hand, we need to know how much cash we can raise fast if we call in everything and delay whatever outlays we can, plus whatever's on hand."

"Sure, that's not a problem," Larry said.

"Next, we have to know how many of our shares we can legitimately buy in the open market for bona fide needs. You know—stock options, 401k, those types of things. Then we have to match the cost of that with our available cash."

"You're thinking of a buy-back to support the stock price? You're in some dicey legal territory there. Normally, we'd just issue new shares. They're already authorized."

"That's right, but this is a special need and it's only a contingency. It's for the shares we would normally require in due course, anyway."

"For god's sake, be careful, Frank," Bates pleaded. "You're walking on a minefield in your bare feet."

"Larry, I haven't decided on anything. I can't decide one way or the other if I don't have the numbers. Be sure all our ready cash is ready to get consolidated in our Central Account so we can cut a check right away , if we have to."

The older man heaved a sigh. "You'll have the numbers in a few hours. We already have the ability to consolidate with a ninety-minute notice."

Frank headed out of the office with Larry and he made his way to Tyler Smith's office while Larry returned to his own.

"He's expecting you," Smith's secretary said. "Go right in." 

"Here's a draft of the press release," Tyler said as Frank took a chair.

"What did Al Crossman have to say?" Frank asked as he skimmed the draft and paced in front of Tyler's desk..

"He agreed with you that we need to get the 10-Q out on the street. That will make most of our problems go away. He's going to make some calls to the SEC in New York, and work his way up from there."

"I've got a few more questions for him," Frank said. "I'm thinking of some Treasury Operations to support the shares."

"Geez, be careful on that. My advice is to forget it. It would be a temporary fix, anyway."

"I'm keeping it on the menu, Frank insisted, "in case we have to take drastic measures. I'm not gonna let the ship sink just because I want to be Mr. Clean."

"Promise me you'll keep it on the back burner for now," Tyler replied. "It might have a reverse-effect, anyway. When the Market figures it out, they'll believe we hit the Panic Button."

"Alright, Tyler," Frank said and slapped Tyler on the back. "You can be my guardian angel."

Tyler's intercom buzzed and his secretary told him that Jeannette was trying to find him. 

"She wouldn't chase me down if it wasn't important," Frank said. He picked up Tyler's phone and called her. He scribbled some notes as he spoke and then hung up the phone.

"Jeannette said that an SEC lawyer tried to reach me," Frank said. "Beyond that, she didn't leave a message."

"Get a name?" Tyler asked. 

"Yeah, Nadine Persky. Never heard of her."

"Let me see what I can find," Tyler said. "The Attorneys' Directory is on-line." He turned to his computer and typed for a minute. "Here she is; you're not going to like it."

"Give it to me straight," Frank said. "How bad can it be?"

"She's been out of law school for four years," Tyler began. "Vassar undergrad—Phi Beta Kappa. Columbia Law School—Law Review. She went with the SEC right out of Law School."

"Why should that worry me?" Frank asked. 

"With those credentials she could have her choice of many positions at any Wall Street firm at a big salary and partnership not too far down the road. You have to ask why she chose to work as a government regulator."

"I'm starting to see your point," Frank said. 

"I'm sure she has a picture of Senator Sarbanes somewhere in her office with a vase of flowers under it."

"We've got to deal with it," Frank said. "I better go call her."

"Let me know what she says. I'll call Al Crossman while you're doing that. I've got an idea and I want to run it by him."

******************* 

Frank hung up the phone after speaking to Nadine Persky. The result of the conversation was unsatisfactory and Frank paused for a moment to ponder all it meant.

"But, by holding up the 10-Q you're adding to the problem," Frank had tried to point out to her. "The Market thinks there's something to hide in it, when the opposite is true."

"That's one opinion—your opinion," she retorted. She went on to say that she was proposing an insider trading investigation and waiting for approval from her supervisor.

"Investigate all you want," Frank replied. "That has nothing to do with the 10-Q. They're two separate issues. Have you even reads our 10-Q?"

"What's in the report makes no difference. We're resolving the investigation issue now. Until that happens, you'll just have to wait," she declared.

End of phone call.

Frank remembered that Tyler was waiting for him. He got up and made his way to his office.

"It's not surprising," Tyler said. 

"She sounded loaded for bear," Frank warned. 

"No doubt, she is," Tyler replied," but she tipped her hand. Now we know who to put the pressure on to get the 10-Q out on the Street. We'll find out who her boss is."




The Brass Statuettes Ch. 08



"I'm in your hands, Tyler."

"I spoke to Al Crossman while you were gone," Tyler went on to say. "I kind of expected what you just told me. I'll call him back and we can discuss an idea we have."

"Let's get the press release done before we do. We're playing 'beat the clock'." Frank countered. "With that out of the way, we can concentrate on this other thing."

Tyler had the draft in a folder on his desk and he took it out. "How does it read to you?"

"Fine; I'd just like to bolster it a little where it says that we stand by our 10-Q and urge the SEC to release it."

"Good idea," Tyler said, "especially considering what you just went through with Ms. Persky."

Tyler edited the text on the document in front of him and then handed the page to Frank. "How's that?" 

"Perfect!" Frank answered. "After it's typed we'll take it down to Alvin. I'm sure he'll sign it and we'll have it on Graziano's desk in plenty of time." 

*********** 

The press release was sent by wire to Graziano's office. Frank and Tyler walked together back to Tyler's office. Soon they had Al Crossman on the phone.

Al was a seasoned veteran of the legal wars. His firm represented Western whenever the need arose. Frank told him about his conversation with Nadine Persky.

"You don't want that," he told them bluntly.

"I agree with you, but I don't know what to do to avoid it," Frank admitted.

"You say that they haven't officially launched an investigation?" Al confirmed.

"Yes, I'm sure of it," Frank said.

"Tyler and I discussed something a while ago and I think it's the right way to go," Al said. "Why don't you lay it out for him, Tyler?"

"It's as simple as this," Tyler began. "Before they get started out of New York, we'll call the FBI here in Houston and report that we have suspected insider trading and request they investigate."

"I have contacts in the local office," Al volunteered. "I'm sure we could make it happen, if we act fast. If we wait very long, it will be too late."

"An end run around the SEC," Frank surmised. "I always preferred to run up the middle."

"Normally, I would too," Crossman added, "but these are different times." 

"What does that get us?" Frank asked.

"We want the FBI working with us. We'll assign our Security and Internal Audit Staffs to cooperate. If the SEC comes in, it will be like the Inquisition," Tyler explained.

"The FBI won't cover up anything," Al warned. "They'll pursue whatever they find. It'll be less adversarial."

"Of course, if the SEC wrestles jurisdiction back from them, they'll be out for blood. At worst, it'll buy us some time while they wrestle with it," Tyler added.

"I'm convinced," Frank said. "Who's going to make the call?"

"That would be me," Al said. "I'm your outside counsel and I know the agent in charge. By the way, I already made some calls to get your 10-Q freed up. No action, yet. It might take something a little stronger."

"Whatever it takes," Frank said. "They have no right to link the 10-Q with this other thing. We've got to get that made public. It's holding up a lot of things."

"We'll get it done, but you'll have to be patient; we're doing everything we can," Al assured them. 

******************* 

Frank's day wasn't done after the conversation with Al Crossman. There were meetings with Internal Audit and Security personnel and a short conversation with Jim Sweeney, not to mention a phone call with the Public Accountants. Larry Bates' numbers were on his desk waiting for him. It would have been easier if he had a Corporate Controller to back him up, but the post remained vacant with no good candidates on the horizon. At seven o'clock he told Jeannette to go home. The office was all but empty when he stopped in Alvin's office at eight-thirty to fill him in.

Alvin poured Frank a scotch and himself a bourbon. "We were so close," Alvin lamented. "Just so you know, I don't blame you."

Alvin's consolation made Frank want to cringe, but he didn't let it show. "We're still almost there," Frank insisted. "We've got to hang tough. We are going to lose some time, though. The biggest risk, as I see it, is that the bank will back out of the R&D loan."

"That's what I mean," Alvin said. "This won't stay under wraps past tomorrow morning. Jason has a point. The headhunters will be making calls to our R&D people to lure them away."

"I'm sure that they understand..."

"You don't understand them," Alvin insisted. "They have no loyalties to any company—only to their work and themselves. They'll draw their own conclusions and join with whatever outfit they think will give them the most. They don't understand business and they don't trust management—and that goes twice for finance guys."

"I see," Frank replied.

"And once those guys start filterin' off to the competitors...you might as well photocopy our whole strategic plan and mail it out."

"We've got to look to Jason to keep the lid on."

"Bah!" Alvin retorted with a wave of his hand. "That little twerp couldn't keep a lid on a teapot, but he's all we got."

"Maybe we can shore him up," Frank suggested. "The trouble is, I just don't have time right now to..."

"You've got enough on your plate," Alvin agreed. "Besides, like I said, those guys don't trust you. I'll see if Blake Hart can step in. Maybe it's time to move Blake up the ladder a notch. I can have Jason report to him."

"I believe that Blake is the right guy, if the timing is right."

"I'll think on it."

"Good scotch, Alvin."

"Want another?"

"Gimme a raincheck. It's been a long day. I'm goin' home."

************ 

It was almost ten when Frank finally pulled into his driveway. He knew Trudy would be waiting for him—she'd probably try to get him to eat some warmed-over dinner that he didn't want. As he walked into the house Trudy was coming down the stairs.

"Rough day?" Trudy asked. 

"Could have been better," Frank replied. "How about yours?"

"Not too bad," Trudy replied. "I spent most of the day getting Patricia ready to go to Austin for her college orientation."

"It's only a four-day trip," Frank protested.

"I think she has some butterflies in her stomach about it, so it was slow going. The reality of it is finally dawning on her."

"Is reality spelled D-E-V-O-N?" Frank asked, referring to the latest boyfriend. 

"That may be part of it. Anyway, she's ready now. How 'bout some dinner?"

"I think I'll pass Trudy. I just want to get out of these clothes and have a beer out on the balcony."

"I figured as much," Trudy said, "but I had to ask. Go ahead upstairs and change; I'll bring you a beer after I finish putting the food away."

Frank shuffled out of the kitchen and up the stairs. As he passed Patricia's room he knocked on the door. "Patricia, can I come in?"

Hearing nothing he pushed the door open and stepped in. He found her sitting on her bed, arms folded with a sour look on her face. "Ready for your trip to Austin tomorrow?" 

"I guess so," the teenager mumbled, not looking up.

"I don't blame you for being nervous," Frank said. "I would be, too. Just give it a chance and it'll all work out."

"I'm not nervous!" the girl whined.

"Sorry," Frank replied. "I should have said that if you were nervous, I wouldn't blame you. I was sure nervous. In the end, I found out I shouldn't have been. Of course everyone's different in one way or another, but almost everyone was nervous." 

"Maybe," his daughter conceded.

"Don't worry. Everything will be fine. When you get back you can fill us all in." He closed the door and continued down the hallway to his and Trudy's room.

He had just changed from his business suit to shorts and tee shirt when Trudy walked in carrying an ice bucket with three bottles of beer. "I though I'd have one with you."

"Perfect! What's the third one for?" 

"I figured you'd have two," Trudy replied. "Or maybe I'll split it with you." She was on her way through the sliding glass door to their balcony. Frank was right behind her.

"So, I heard Patricia tell you she's not nervous," Trudy told him. "They might have heard her in Dallas. You didn't give her a hard time about Devon, did you?"

"No," Frank answered. "I figured that would take care of itself soon enough." He twisted the top off a bottle and handed it to her. "The Winters' are taking her and you're picking them up on Friday?" Trudy nodded. He opened a second bottle of beer and took a long swallow.

"How bad is it at work?" Trudy asked. 

"It's going to be rough for a while," Frank admitted. "The worst part is that everyone knows that someone sabotaged us, but no one knows who. Soon the rumors will start. That's worse than the actual fact."

"Who do you think did it?

"I wish I knew. There are so many people who could have. Alvin, all the VP's, their secretaries, the Directors on the Finance Committee, employees at the Underwriter and the Auditors' office; the lawyers. There's Aaron Fishman. Who knows?"

"Maybe it leaked out by accident."

"I don't think so, Trudy. There were some nasty rumors that went along with the facts and there were some who made a lot of money when the stock plunged." Frank took another swallow. 

"Do you think they'll ever find out?" Trudy asked.

"Sure," Frank replied. "The government will trace the transactions back to the brokers and subpoena their records and start sorting out names. It will take some time, though. First, the SEC and the FBI will have to sort out 'who's on first'. Then, they'll filter through the names. By the time they're done I intend to have the Company's finances straightened out long beforehand."

"You will," Trudy said. "You always do when things get tough."

"Maybe," Frank said. He finished his beer and opened the third bottle. "I used to, anyway. Maybe that's in the past; maybe I'm getting old." He took a swallow from the new bottle.

"Oh, I don't think so," Trudy replied. She took the fresh bottle from his hand and took a swallow of her own. She reached out her hand and squeezed his bare bicep. "Still feels pretty firm to me."

"You're only saying that because you've got nothing else to compare to." 

I disagree," she said, playing along. She lifted the long-necked bottle to her mouth again and enclosed her lips around the opening, looking him in the eye. She paused a second and then slowly caressed the neck of the bottle with them, and let the condensed moisture from the long shaft of the neck remoisten her mouth. Her tongue came out—slippery and wet—and she let it play around the end of the bottle and she stuck it a little ways inside and swirled it around the glass. "I think I'm the best judge of the parts of my man—especially the firm parts."

Frank reached out for the bottle. A slight smile escaped before she could hold it back. She pulled the bottle away as he reached and raised it to her mouth again and took another long, hard swallow.

"What d'you say about that, Frank?" she asked in a soft voice, almost a whisper.

"I'd have to say I don't deserve you, Trudy."

She handed the bottle back to him. About half of the beer remained. "You finish this while I get ready." She rose and disappeared behind the sliding glass door and the drapes. 

********* 

Frank nursed the rest of the beer so that Trudy would have a few minutes to prepare. It was always worth the wait when Trudy said she was going to get ready. He didn't know what to expect, but it was sure to be good.

"I wonder if she'll wear the pink baby-doll nightie I bought for her in New Orleans." It was one of the choices, but not the only one. "What does it matter? Whatever it is, she won't be wearing it for long." 

As Frank swallowed the last of the beer he saw the lights in the bedroom go out. "I think that's my cue." He got up from his chair and slid the glass door enough to let him pass through. With the drapes closed, the room was pitch black. He heard Trudy's voice.

"Leave the door open, Frank. There's a breeze out tonight and it feels so good." 

Frank fumbled his way to a chair next to his dresser and quickly shed all the clothes he had on, leaving them on the chair. He eased himself down on the bed and reached his arms out searching her out. He wanted to embrace her and kiss her tenderly.

He was met by her arms in the darkness. Sometimes he forgot how long and strong she was. He felt her hand at his shoulder pushing him onto his back. A long leg flew through the air and in an in an instant she was straddled atop him. He reached out and threw his arms around her shoulders and pulled her face down to his and kissed her. She might have been tall and strong, but her skin was warm and soft. 

"Trudy, if you were going to be nude, why did you need time to get ready?" he asked when the kiss was finished. 

She rubbed her body on him. He felt her long legs overlap his own. "Frank, I've got two favors to ask you," she told him as she slid further down his body. He felt her breasts with the hardened nipples moving all the way down his torso and past his groin.

"Ask 'em fast, Trudy."

"First, stop asking questions. I don't feel like answering any."

"What's the second?"

"Try not to be too loud when you come. The girls still might be awake." Frank gasped as he felt her mouth engulf him. He was all the way in her. It was what she wanted to do for him—he knew it. He let her take over. 

He was immersed in the routine of pleasure when he suddenly felt her head bob up and he slipped out of her mouth. "Because," she explained, "by the time I get through with you, I think you're going to want to be very loud."

"Should I get a bullet or something to bite on?" he asked.

"I told you—no questions."

She plunged down on him again. He gave himself over to the sensations. At first it was warm, with a soft pleasure as she filled herself with him. Then he felt the slippery tongue dance over him. It was a different delight. She managed to work her hand beneath him and tender fingers caressed the soft skin of his sac. 

She wouldn't let him get used to what she did to him. She could tell when he began to mark and measure the surges of pleasure, timing his approach to climax. She'd break the routine, switching techniques. Once she hovered an inch over him, holding his organ upright. He waited for her descent onto him—he could feel it just by anticipation. She made him wait until he thought she might never do it and then dove with abandon. She had a way of humming when she had him deep inside her. The vibrations from her throat drove him wild.

It was far from their first such experience. He always marveled how she made it feel like something new on each occasion. "It shouldn't surprise me. She never holds anything back from me." She had been working on him for a long while and he felt himself rising.

He reached down and put his hands on either side of her face. He tugged gently, lifting her chin up so that he dropped out of her mouth and they were face-to-face in the dark.

"Huh?" she murmured in bewilderment. 

Frank grasped her around the ribs with his two strong hands and pulled her to him so that he could kiss her. "I wanted to..." she began to say as the kiss ended.

"I know," Frank answered. "It's just that I'm feeling something right now." His hands dug into her flanks; he maneuvered her pelvis on his until he felt himself at her opening. It was as warm and slick as her mouth had been. She sank down and they pressed together. He felt her capture him with her muscles within. He was in as far as he could go.

"Ohhh!" he heard her cry. She placed her palms on his shoulders to brace herself. He thrust up; it felt so good, and she pressed back. They did it over again—and again. They came almost together. First, it was Frank; Trudy followed a few seconds later. At the end Trudy buried her face in the pillow alongside Frank's head and screamed into it. For Frank it was the best part. 

She stayed on top of him after it was over; he was still inside her. 

"I hope the girls didn't hear us," Frank quipped.

"It was a good thing that pillow was there," she answered with a little laugh. "I didn't plan on needing it." Frank stroked her back and her flanks. For a little while she had the power to banish the troubles of the day just gone by and she employed it to the fullest.

"You were wrong, you know," she said. Her face rested on his chest.

"Wrong about what, Trudy?"

"What you said on the balcony about not deserving me. I know it was a figure of speech, but it's not true, just the same."

"Okay. I guess that I'm lucky that I do deserve you."

"Don't be a smartass," she warned, but not in an angry way. "You don't even know why I said that."

"Are you going to tell me?"

"Well," she said, "I thought it took a pretty nice man to stop in Patricia's room to lift her spirits after everything you went through today."

"Oh, I didn't think of it that way," he replied. "She just needed..."

"That's exactly why you deserve it," she explained, "and I knew you would do it before you even started up the stairs."

They lay quietly for awhile, just enjoying the feeling of each other. He started getting hard again. Soon they would enjoy one another again before falling to sleep.

The tender breeze stole in through the open door and caressed them through the night.

********* 

Author's note: the preceding chapter is entirely fictional, as are all the financial institutions and the ticker symbol mentioned. Even the name of the bank mentioned might appear familiar, but the name has been intentionally altered for this story. If any of the names used have escaped my scrutiny and match any existing entity, it is an unintended oversight and no inference should be drawn from the mistake.

AW 



The Brass Statuettes Ch. 09



© Copyright 2007

Chapter 9: Tourniquet

Brenda arrived at Gloria's house just in time for lunch. Ashley and Darlene weren't due for at least an hour. She found Juana humming a song to herself. She gulped down some of her iced tea. Without the vodka, the taste of the mint and fresh lemon were somehow stronger.

"I saw Raul walking away looking kind of glum," Brenda said.

"He's disappointed, I suppose," Gloria answered. "It was the second week in a row I turned him down for the Deluxe Workout."

"Gloria, that's not like you; I don't blame Raul for having a sour look.. You've always been a regular."

"Last week I told him it was my time of month. This morning I said that I didn't have time because we had relatives coming in for the weekend. I don't what I'll tell him next week."

"I don't get it," Brenda said. "You've always sworn by Raul."

"Trouble is, I think next week is actually my time of month. I think I'll just tip him for the Deluxe Workout, anyway."

Brenda took a bite of her sandwich and washed it down with another gulp of iced tea. "Something's happened, Gloria. Things seem different. You would never have sent Raul away twice in a row; and what's up with this virgin iced tea?"

"I know," Gloria answered. "It's not Raul's fault. It's just that Alvin's been keeping me busy in that department."

"Gloria, how wonderful!"

"He's been doing a fine job, too," Gloria added. "I don't know what's gotten into him, but I like it. It doesn't seem right to get it from Raul right after making love with Alvin all night."

"He's realizing how much he should appreciate you."

"Maybe," Gloria answered. She looked away for a second but Brenda saw her blushing. "He didn't even complain at all when I told him about the fifteen thousand for the ESL teacher for the school." 

"Don't complain," Brenda said. "So you're leaving the vodka out of the iced tea to trim some calories—keep yourself slim for Alvin?"

"No, I just don't want that boozy feeling right now. But, you can have some. I'll get the bottle."

Brenda shook her head. "I'm fine for right now. I'll wait for the others to get here."

Gloria poured more tea in her glass. "I feel a little ashamed the other day," she remarked as she poured. "I think I trapped you into buying that piano. I should have asked you privately first."

"It's alright. After I sent the check, it felt kind of good. For a moment I understood how it makes you feel. Anyway, Blake didn't say much when I told him. He's preoccupied by something at work." 

"It makes me wonder what I've been missing," Gloria said. "In a way, it's confusing. I tried so hard, but people always resented me. Now it seems so easy."

"It was just a matter of time," Brenda assured her. "It's always the timing."

"All I know is that something's working out for me that never did before. Everything's so perfect. There's Alvin—and the school with the children. I even had a nice talk with Trudy the other day."

"Trudy!" Brenda exclaimed. "I thought she aggravated you."

"That was the old me," Gloria replied with a wave of her hand. "She came to see me about the Foundation. I'll fill you in when the others get here."

Brenda nibbled her sandwich and stared across the lawn. Through the hazy spray of the lawn sprinklers she saw the rose garden that José was tending in the distance. It reminded her of a rose garden in a park down the street from her girlhood home. She would stroll through it in the early morning when the dew still clung to the petals like warmth on a kiss. The roses bade her to dream—she did, and made wishes on those dreams. None of the wishes came true; Brenda realized she had been dreaming in someone else's garden. Those dreams weren't hers, nor were Gloria's. Brenda gave up dreaming; let others do it She traded wishes for practicality.

"Gloria's got her the head in the clouds. Let her enjoy it while she can because she can't stay up there forever. When she crashes, she'll wake up to find that I've stayed down-to-earth, taking care of things."

"Hi y'all!" It was Darlene calling out that broke up Brenda's reverie. Ashley was with her. They were arriving for the meeting of the Foundation Board. 

"Get yourselves something to drink," Gloria called to them. She refilled her glass with iced tea and added a generous dram of vodka. She cast a rapid glance back at Brenda, perhaps checking for a scolding look. Brenda noticed, but only sighed joined the others in pouring herself a dose of the lubricant, too. A little voice inside her cried out that it might be nice to try it without the alcohol. The voice was too faint to make her listen; she fell in step with her mentor with one foot on each side of the line.

"We're only missing Trudy," Darlene announced to the assemblage.

"You can miss her if you want to," Ashley shot back.

"Trudy won't be here today. She's picking her daughter up from her college orientation in Austin," Gloria announced. "But she came to see me earlier this week and had some interesting ideas—and that's what this meeting's all about."

"Trudy?" Ashley blurted out. "Well, this must be really something."

"Ah cain't 'magine..." Darlene started to add, but Gloria cut her off.

"You're wrong about Trudy," Gloria admonished. "She sorted out a lot of problems and brought them to me. It'll save us all a lot of trouble later."

Brenda was intrigued. She remained convinced of the temporal nature of Gloria's transformation. Short-lived or not, it was a major shift and she knew better than to join Darlene and Ashley in derision when Gloria was full of praise. "No kidding, Gloria. What kinds of things?"

"Well, ordering stationery, for one," Gloria recited. "And we have to keep track of all the correspondence we send and receive. There's mailing lists and insurance—just a lot of things."

"I never thought of any of those things," Brenda admitted.

"Ah thought we gave Trudy the job t' take care o' all that," Darlene argued.

"She's been doing just that, but she can't for long," Gloria answered. "We need a long-term solution."

"Well, why cain't she?" Darlene demanded.

"Trudy's a volunteer, just like the rest of us," Gloria reminded her.

"She's done more work so far than the rest of us put together," Brenda agreed, "except for Gloria, of course."

Ashley and Darlene looked at one another with frowns. Neither spoke.

"Anyway, Trudy said that we should all pitch in and share the work," Gloria cheerfully informed them. 

"What?" Ashley gasped. 

"But don't worry," Gloria assured them. "I came up with a different plan."

"Thank goodness!" Darlene exclaimed. "Gloria, y'all had us worried for a moment—but Ah think your were just puttin' us to th' test." 

Brenda was smart enough to say nothing.

"We'll get some help from professionals who do this for a living," Gloria informed them. "Our husbands' secretaries will volunteer to help us." 

"You mean we're going to have our husbands order them to help us," Ashley clarified.

"I don't think Blake will do that," Brenda felt compelled to point out. "I don't think any of the husbands will."

"We could use some female persuasion at the proper moment," Ashley said with a giggle.

"None of that will be necessary," Gloria said. "We'll get them to volunteer to do it."

"Y'all mean of their own free will?" Darlene asked in astonishment.

"Exactly! I have a plan, so everyone listen." They all drew their chairs closer around Gloria. "We'll bring them out here and have a pool party. We'll get the husbands to give them a day off for it. Alvin told me they forgot National Secretaries' Day back in April. So, the excuse for the party will be to make up for it. That will put them on our side at the start."

"We'll have caviar, shrimp cocktail, oysters—the works!" Ashley chanted.

"An' plenty o' drinks," Darlene agreed.

"It would be nice to have some photos of the Preschool on hand," Brenda said. "Maybe some of the children's artwork, too.

"Good thinking, Bren," Gloria shouted out. "I'll ask Maddy to put something together."

"Ask Maddy to come, too," Brenda suggested.

"Perfect! Great thinking again, Bren," Gloria exclaimed. "Now you're all reading along on my page." 

"We're all agreed, then?" Brenda asked Darlene and Ashley. "It's a wonderful idea, Gloria," Ashley said. "It would never have worked Trudy's way."

"I'm glad we're agreed," Gloria told them. "I already sent the invitations. The party's on for next Friday. The caterer is all signed up. It's a pool party, so wear your suits."

************* 

A short time later the meeting was adjourned and the four women were lounging poolside in their bikini's. 

"Where are the gardeners today?" Ashley asked. "This was to be your initiation, Darlene, if I remember correctly."

"It's okay," she answered. "Ah don't feel much like it, anyway."

Ashley leaned forward. "You said you would..."

"Ah didn't say I wouldn't," Darlene snapped back. "Ah jus' said that Ah didn't feel like it."

"You can't be good at it if your heart's not in it," Ashley admonished.

"Do we have t' talk about this?"

"Someone is testy today," Ashley sang in a teasing voice.

"Well, Ah do have somethin' on mah mind, if anyone cares to listen."

"Of course we want to listen," Gloria soothed. "Ashley, you should give Darlene some space. Now, Darlene, tell us, dear."

"Well, it's nothin', excep' Jason's angry 'bout sumthin' at work an' he wants t' resign and go back to th' University."

"Oh, that is bad," Gloria agreed. "How serious do you think he is?" Darlene gave a big sigh. "Ah got him calmed down raht now, but 'tis sure to come up 'gin. Ah tol' him there'd be no lovemakin' if it did."

"There's your first mistake," Ashley countered, "calling it lovemaking. Why don't you call it by its real name, fu..."

"Back off, Ashley," Gloria scolded. "Darlene's trying to tell us something."

Ashley put her hands over her mouth in mock shame and looked at Brenda giggling.

"It's true. If Jason is determined to go back, denying sex to him won't work for long," Gloria said. "In the end, he'll do it just to get even with you for cutting him off."

"What's his problem?" Brenda asked. "He just moved into this job—and he must know that the money won't even be close where he wants to go."

"That's why he came here in the first place," Ashley pointed out.

"He's angry b'cause a lot of funding for his projects didn't come through."

"He must mean the stock deal that fell through," Brenda said. "Blake told me about it. He shouldn't worry. They'll get the money from somewhere else."

"Jason's not sure. He really doesn't understand business—an' he hates talkin' 'bout it. Ah think the worst part is tellin' all the scientists he brought in that the money's dried up."

"Then do something to make sure it doesn't," Gloria said. "Talk to the right person."

"But Ah don't know..."

"That would be Jim Sweeney," Brenda said.

"Ooowww, that sounds like fun!" Ashley exclaimed.

"Jim Sweeney?" Darlene asked with a puzzled look.

"Sure," Brenda replied. "He's the Director who's in charge of the Finance Committee. He's the man Ashley flirted with at the gala several weeks ago."

"Ah don't even know 'im. What would Ah even say?"

"Let your cute little figure do the talking for you," Ashley answered.

"Ah couldn't!" Darlene gasped. "Ah jus' couldn't. He maht think Ah'm serious, and Ah've neva bin unfaithful to Jason. It's jus' not propah."

"It would be for a good cause," Ashley replied. "Maybe you would become serious after thinking it over." Brenda gave Ashley a stern look.

"You've already told Jason that you won't have sex with him if he quits," Gloria said. "You've got yourself trapped in a box. Flirting with Jim would be so that he wouldn't have to quit and you could keep on having sex with Jason. There are some things you have to do for your husband."

"Oh, no," Darlene sobbed. "Jason would nevah understand. And that Mr. Sweeney—he's so fat and dumpy..."

"Cute and rolly-polly," Ashley corrected. "And Jason doesn't ever have to know."

"But Ah'd know an' Ah'd always wonder if Jason would evah find out."

"By the way, how do you sing the alma mater of that university he wants to run off to?" Ashley teased, "because it appears like you're going to be singing that song real soon."

"No, no!" Darlene blubbered. "Ah jus' cain't."

"Quiet, girls!" Brenda scolded. "You don't have to, Darlene."

"Ah don't?" Darlene looked up, drying a tear.

"Jim—er, Mr. Sweeney only has to think he's going to bed you. Just be nice; flirt; give a few down-the-neckline looks and maybe a shot of your thigh. A hint and an accidental bump with the hip and he'll be eating out your hand."

"Well, maybe," Darlene mused. "Ah've nevah done anythin' like that. Ah don' know if Ah know how."

"We're all surprised what we can do when the moment comes," Brenda said.

"Ah hope it passes an' Jason jus' fo'gets 'bout it."

"Maybe," Gloria cautioned, "but don't count on it. When men get something like that in their heads it doesn't usually go away."

"Perfume," Ashley said as she polished off her drink. "He likes perfume. He might even buy you some."

"How would you know?" Brenda asked.

"How would you?" Ashley shot back.

******************** 

"Good morning, Mr. Bennett," Floyd greeted Frank as he signed in. "You sure like to get into the office early. If you aren't early, I don't consider it a normal day."

"Maybe I need to be less predictable," Frank countered. 

Floyd laughed as he filled a stryofoam cup full of coffee for him. "You wouldn't do that to me in my old age, would you, Mr. Bennett?

"I suppose not," Frank admitted. "Then you'd get unpredictable on me, and I wouldn't get this bootlegged cup of coffee every morning."

"Touché!" Floyd replied. They touched cups in a kind of early-morning toast.

"Floyd, I have a visitor coming in today; Mr. Shoreham."

"Yes sir; Miss Jeannette put him on the list last night."

"Be sure he gets the full security treatment when he gets here—ID, sign in, the works."

"Why sure, Mr. Bennett, if that's what you want. Something wrong with this guy?"

"No; nothing like that," Frank answered. "I just want to make sure that he knows we're on our toes, that's all."

"No problem," the elder man shrugged. They walked together down the hall to Frank's office. "Things are sure tense around here, Mr. Bennett," Floyd commented as he unlocked Frank's door. "I've been noticing. It must be something to do with all the stock problems."

"Just a few things that need to get ironed out," Frank answered. "Where did you hear about that?

"Can't help but hear about it. It's been in the papers. I don't normally read such things, but my son called me the other night and asked me."

"Hmmph!" Frank grunted. He paused and then answered. "Tell him that Western Chemicals is strong and this problem will be ironed out in short order. We'll be back to normal in no time."

"Oh, I know," Floyd protested. "I only said what I saw in the paper. I never really thought that something was truly wrong with the Company."

"Tell your son that he can't always believe what he reads in the papers," Frank said.

Sure, sure," Floyd assured him. "And don't worry. I'll give that Mr. Shoreham the once-over—just like you said."

"I knew I could count on you, Floyd."

Frank started looking through the papers on his desk as Floyd began to walk away, but he paused at the door instead of leaving.

"But, sir, it's hard not to pay attention to the papers when we see the Company written up there; and you know all of us employees have a lot of company stock in our 401k's. But if you tell me all is well..."

"It is, Floyd. We don't know what happened, but someone broke security with our plans for the new stock offering and that sent the market for our stock into a tailspin. But let me assure you, this will pass and we'll still be in good shape."

"Any leads on who did it?" Floyd asked. "I hope it wasn't a security breach. We take a lot of pride..."

"No one knows very much right now," Frank answered. The investigation's only starting."

"Do you think they'll catch whoever it was? What'll they do to him—or her?"

"It's probably more like a 'them'," Frank answered. "It was too well-thought-out and happened too fast to be a single person. To be honest, I don't know if they'll ever figure the whole thing out."

"I bet you'd sure like to catch whoever it was.".

"Well, sure; of course," Frank answered. "But I don't want to spend my whole career doing it. I wouldn't be surprised if the thing got old and we lost track of it over time. We can't turn the company upside down if it takes our eye off the real ball."

"Yeah; right," Floyd said. "It's comfortin' to know you're on top of everything, Mr. Bennett." He heard something off to the side and spun around. "Oh, good mornin', Miss Jeannette. You're in bright and early."

"We have a special visitor today," she said as she unlocked her desk. 

"Well, a good day to you both," Floyd said as he turned and started walking back to his post in reception. "Let me know if I can do anything to help you."

"I see you already have coffee," Jeannette said, casting a glance at Frank's styrofoam cup.

"Guilty as charged," Frank replied. "Sometimes Floyd likes to share some of his with me."

"Sometimes?"

"Well, alright; most of the time. When is Shoreham's plane scheduled to land?"

"Changing the subject?" Jeannette asked with a smile. "He's scheduled to land at eleven-thirty. I've arranged for a company car to pick him up and bring him over."

"Fine; can you meet him downstairs when he arrives? Make late reservations for lunch in the dining room. I'll see if Alvin can join us. Maybe I can get Jim Sweeney to sit in, too. See if you can get Al Crossman on the line, too."

"Of course," Jeannette answered. "I'm on it. Do you still want coffee this morning?"

"Of course!" Frank joked back as he went into his office. 

He had only been at his desk a few minutes when Jeannette buzzed him on the intercom. "Mr. Richter of Chase-Morgan on the line."

Hanford Richter was the bank officer with whom Frank had been working to put together the financing package. "Damn!" Frank cursed under his breath before he picked up the phone. He knew in advance what Richter was going to say. He expected it, but hoped he wouldn't have to face the news until Murray Shoreham had departed from his one-day visit. If Murray asked about it, Frank would have to tell him the truth.

Frank: "Good morning, Hanny! How are you?"

Richter: "I wish I could say I was fine, Frank. I'm afraid I've got some bad news for you."

Frank: "I'm not surprised. I don't know how the bank could go through with it with the 10-Q held up."

Richter: "Well, just to make it official, I have to tell you that the Loan Committee has voted to turn down the application."

Frank: "Is that a final turndown, or could you say that we could resurrect it when the 10-Q comes out? We've got our attorneys working on freeing it up now."

Richter: "It's final, Frank."

Frank: "Why not put it on hold, pending the 10-Q? It could be only a matter of days."

Richter: "Can't do it, Frank. Those guys don't like hiccups; and, we've got the commitments of the secondary lenders to consider."

Frank: "So you're saying they want us to walk away? I don't believe that. If we do, you'll be off the radar screen on a permanent basis."

Richter: "I wish I could be more helpful, Frank. The Bank doesn't want to drive you away. It's just that we're one of the few outfits with access to funds and there are a lot of companies standing in line."

Frank: "So, you're saying that once we've got things straightened out you'd want to reconsider it?"

Richter: "You'd have to reapply. We'd probably wait for the next 10-Q—probably the next 10-K."




The Brass Statuettes Ch. 09



Frank: "So, as the bank's representative, you're interested in reviving the deal in some form after we get back on course; is that right?"

Richter: "Well, I suppose so, Frank, if you put it in those general terms."

Frank: "That's all I need to know, Hanny. I'll talk to you later."

Frank hung up the phone and sat back in his chair. He lifted his coffee cup to his lips and polished off what remained. The Chase deal was dead and he knew it. "At least I've got a warm corpse. Maybe I can make it look like it's just sleeping." Before he had a chance to think about it for long Jeannette buzzed him again. 

"Frank, I just received a call from Mr. Shoreham. His flight has been delayed in San Francisco by ninety minutes, but he says he's still on his way. I've already alerted the driver."

"Thanks, Jeannette. Would you call Jason Lowell and ask him if I could speak to him for a few minutes?"

Frank leaned back in his chair again. It was hard to relax, but having Jeannette on his side made it easier. "No matter how crazy things get around here, at least I know she's out there." After a few minutes passed Jason Lowell appeared at his door. 

"Your secretary was away from her desk," Jason said, "so I thought I would come right in."

"Glad you did, Jason," Frank replied. "How about some coffee?"

"No thanks," Jason replied as he sunk into a chair in front of Frank's desk. "I got your message. I came to see what you want."

"I was planning to go down to your office, Jason. I didn't mean it to look like I summoned you."

"That's alright; I'm here now."

"I'll get to the point, then," Frank said. "I've got a major shareholder coming in early this afternoon for a visit. He wants answers about our recent troubles. If he doesn't get the answers he wants, he'll dump our shares and things will get real complicated. I thought you could spend fifteen or twenty minutes with us and talk about our R&D efforts. You know, show him the shiny side of the coin."

Lowell looked away and huffed a sigh. He turned back toward Frank. "What do you want me to tell him?" Jason asked with a sneer. "What would you suggest? Certainly not what we're going through. We're cramped into shared space because the new building that was promised is still on the drawing board. We were supposed to get funded. Where are our funds? Buried in some Wall Street report that no one's read yet. Is that what you want me to tell him?" 

"No, Jason. I thought a brief rundown on our new products would be nice."

"I'm a scientist, not a salesman," Jason protested.

"This could be very helpful," Frank replied.

"Why the hell should I? I'm the one on the short end of the stick. Maybe if I got what was promised to me..."

Frank vaulted out of his chair. He stared down at Lowell who remained seated with crossed arms looking out the window. "Look at me, you little twerp," Frank yelled. He leaned forward over the little man. "Yeah, right here!" he shouted and stabbed his fingers at his own two eyes. "This is the real world; a lot's at stake. We need grown-ups around here. You're acting like one of my teenage daughters. You need to grow up or go back to that snot-nosed college of yours."

Jason looked up at Frank. His lower lip began quivering. "Maybe I just will," he blubbered.

"Grow up, or go back?" Frank demanded. 

"I won't justify that with an answer."

"I'm busy," Frank sneered.

Jason arose from his chair and walked to the door. "Do you want me to meet with this guy or not?" Jason asked as he was leaving.

Frank had sat back down and picked up some papers on his desk. "No thanks!" he answered without looking up. 

Jason left and Frank wondered if he should have treated Jason more softly. Shoreham's visit, after all, was important and a goodwill chat with Jason might make a difference. "The hell with it; the guy's unreliable." Frank shook his head, wondering how some things come to be.

*********** 

Murray Shoreham didn't arrive until two in the afternoon. Frank used the extra time to call Al Crossman in hopes that there was some news on the release of the 10-Q, but to no avail. Then he paid a visit to Alvin in his office to prep him for Shoreham's visit.

"Hey, I've got an idea," Alvin said. "Let's get Jason Lowell in on this. He can do a little dog 'n' pony show on our R&D projects."

"Already asked him," Frank replied. "He gave me such a hard time that I told him to forget it." 

"Well, I'll just change his mind right now," Alvin said. His face was red with anger as he picked up the phone.

Frank raised a hand to signal him to wait. "I think I'd rather do without it," he said as Alvin held the phone midway the desk and his ear. "He'd only cop an attitude and Shoreham will see right through it. Jason's too unpredictable. I'm not too sure that Shoreham's the dog 'n' pony show type, anyway."

"When this is over I'm gonna make Jason change his tune," Alvin vowed. "We can't do it now. A sudden resignation from senior management is all we'd need with the problems we're facing now."

"I agree," Frank said, "although I don't understand why you should have to straighten out Jason's attitude. He's not some entry level kid just out of college. He should be able..."

At that moment Alvin's intercom buzzed. He answered it and then set the phone down. "That was the front desk. Your secretary is on his way up with Shoreham right now."

*************** 

By the time Shoreham arrived, the Executive Dining room was closed for the day, but Jeannette had thought ahead and ordered in a buffet that they could eat at Frank's conference table. As Alvin and Frank welcomed their guest, she set the fare out on the table for them.

"Sorry your plane was late. We could have had lunch upstairs. I'm afraid this will have to do," Frank apologized.

"This is better than fine," Shoreham said as he started filling his plate from the portable buffet. "I want to catch the six o'clock flight back home later this afternoon, so we only have a few hours. By the way, say 'thanks' to your secretary for changing my reservations. She's doing that right now."

"If it weren't for Jeannette, we'd be lost," Frank admitted as the three men found a place at the conference table. 

"Let me get to the point," Murray told them. "You guys have me out on a very skinny limb. By rights, I should have dumped you when this whole thing started. I would have been right in line with the Fund investment policy. To be honest, I was about to when you called me yesterday."

"We're glad you didn't," Alvin said.

Shoreham grimaced a little. "I still might; I don't want to. I'm here to be convinced." 

"Everything that made you see us as a good investment is still in place," Frank assured him. "This 10-Q thing is just a bump in the road. We're working on getting the impound lifted. We believe the SEC is being unreasonable."

"If this bump turns into a pothole, I'll get myself canned and I can assure you that my successor won't hesitate to pull the plug."

"We believe the most immediate danger is a wave of high volume, high profile selling that will drive the share price even lower. That would make us easy pickings for a takeover."

"I can't fault the logic. What do you think the company is worth? From a shareholder's point of view, a takeover isn't always bad."

"We haven't even made the calculation, but it would be a lot further north than the share price is now. A buyout at this level would be of no benefit to the owners."

"Is that what your Board says?"

"I speak for the Board," Alvin interjected. "What Frank just said reflects the position of the Board. You can speak to Jim Sweeney; he's an outside director—Chairman of the Finance Committee, too. He couldn't attend today, but he told me that he would be more than glad to speak to you at any time. I'll give you his number before you leave to catch your flight. 

"What made you pull the new offering?" Shoreham demanded. 

"It's like I said on the phone," Frank replied. "It was the depressed status of the overall market. We didn't pull it, just converted it to a shelf registration. Of course, the SEC didn't approve it when all the short selling happened."

"So someone got the news early and went out did some profiteering."

"That started it, and then it was follow the leader. I think it wouldn't have happened in an upbeat market," Frank said. "It would have absorbed the news without much of an impact. Unfortunately, everyone's so skittish right now, anything can provide an excuse to dump and run."

"What about the funds you were going to raise from the offering?" Murray asked. 

"The greatest part of it was for an acquisition in Europe," Alvin answered. "That's on indefinite hold, unfortunately. The rest was for the expansion of our R&D effort. Frank, here, is working on an alternative source of funds."

"Borrowing?" Shoreham asked.

"That's right," Frank said. "We're in talks with one of the New York banks right now."

"You'll never get a big bank to fund you with your SEC docs in limbo," Shoreham said.

"It's true; they want to put it on hold until the SEC problem is cleared up. After that they're willing to open it up again."

"Oh?" Alvin grunted.

"I just spoke with them this morning. I was going to fill you in later this afternoon," Frank said to his boss.

"And what if it doesn't come through?" Shoreham demanded. "What happens to your R&D effort then?"

"We think it will..." Frank started to answer.

"The R&D effort has got to go forward," Alvin declared with conviction. "We'd have to do some trimming on some projects. We'd make whatever cuts..."

"You can't cut the dividend," Shoreham insisted. "I need your assurance that you won't touch the dividend. If we can't agree on that, there's no reason to continue talking."

Alvin was tongue-tied. "Of course the Board..."

"The dividend won't be touched no matter what," Frank promised. He turned to Alvin. "If we cut the dividend we'll have all kinds of problems. The stock price will really go in the crapper and a takeover would be child's play." 

"We need that dividend flow to fund retirement benefits," Shoreham added. "It's in our forecast. A dividend cut would be very serious."

"I meant what I said," Frank answered.

********** 

After they finished lunch, Alvin excused himself, promising Murray Shoreham a tour of the R&D facility and a round of golf when he visited again with more time. After Alvin left Frank and Murray sat again at the conference table again.

"What I really need is a copy of that 10-Q," Murray said.

"You know I can't," Frank replied. "I'd like to give you your own copy right now, but you know the rules."

"I had to try," Murray said. "I don't want to divest Western, but if this situation doesn't clear up soon, the pressure to do so will be enormous. I'll be asked why I didn't do it sooner than I did."

"My hands are tied, Murray."

"To be honest, I'm going to start divesting small lots of Western stock when I get back. It won't be enough to change our relative stake, but at least I'll be able to say that I got the process rolling. If everything turns out like you said, we can buy the shares back later."

"I understand," Frank said. "It sounds like a reason..."

Frank was interrupted by a knock at the door. Jeannette stepped in. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Bennett," she said. "Here is your copy of the 10-Q form. You said you wanted to lock it in your desk for safekeeping."

"Oh, right," Frank said. "I almost forgot. Set it on my desk and I'll take care of it when we're done."

"By the way, you wanted me to let you know when they were having the cake for Joe Driscoll's forty-year anniversary. They're just about set up now."

"Oh, geez, I wanted to go to that," Frank said as he winced. "A guy puts in forty years with a company, he deserves some recognition." He paused for a second and then looked at Shoreham. "Murray, would you mind if I snuck out for a few minutes. I'll just say a few words and ..."

"Go on," Murray said, waving his hand. "Bring me back a piece of cake."

"Thanks, Murray. I won't be much more than fifteen minutes. If you want, use my computer to check your e-mail. It's right behind my desk. It's all right there; monitor, scanner, keyboard. Jeannette will be right outside if you need anything."

"Thanks, Frank. I think I just might do that. Take your time."

It wasn't long after Frank returned that Shoreham left for the airport. Jeannette walked into Frank's office. "Do you think he did what you wanted him to do?" 

"I'm sure he did. When I got back the 10-Q was moved from the spot where I left it. My scanner has financial statement excerpts from it in its memory. It was bending the rules, but it was worth it."

"Did he ask for his piece of cake?" Jeannette asked, indulging herself with a wry grin. 

"No, thank goodness," Frank replied. "Do we even have anyone working here named Joe Driscoll?"

************* 

TO BE CONTINUED...

*

Dear Readers,

Thanks for reading. Be sure to send me your comments and questions.

AW 



The Brass Statuettes Ch. 10



Chapter 10  Laughing of the Children

When Frank walked into the office the next day the New York financial markets were just opening.  In his eagerness to start his workday he'd been a little brusque with Floyd, and that made him feel bad.  The older man looked confused with the break in their daily routine.

Frank clicked on the internet and breathed a sigh of relief.  Western's stock price had started trading unchanged and that meant that Murray Shoreham had stalled on passing a big block of shares at the opening.  His brief visit the day before had been a success.  Frank knew that he'd brushed the boundaries of the rules in leaving the copy of the 10-Q exposed.  He didn't like doing it; he was in a fight and meant to win.  

He'd just begun to lean back in his chair to savor his victory when there was a sharp knock-knock on his door.  Before he could answer the door opened and Floyd ventured into the office.

"You forgot this, Mr. Bennett."  He was carrying two cups of steaming coffee. 

"Hi, Floyd," Frank answered.  "I'm sorry I was short with you this morning.  I didn't mean it.  It's just that I had something on my mind."

Floyd set one of the cups on the desk in front of Frank and settled into a chair opposite.  "That's okay, Mr. Bennett.  I understand; you've got that troubled look."

"A troubled look for troubled times," Frank mused.  

"Anything you want to talk about?" Floyd asked.  "I'm a good listener.

"No, no; just the same-old—same-old."  He threw his lips around the brim of the steaming cup to give himself an excuse for not elaborating further.  

"It's about all that trouble in the stock market, isn't it?" Floyd queried.  "Do they have any idea what happened?"

 "No—nothing new.  I'm getting to the point where I don't even care what happened.  We've just got to put it behind us and get on with things."

"I suppose they'll start investigatin' and questioning everyone," Floyd speculated.

Frank chuckled.  "Why do you ask Floyd?  Getting nervous?"  He laughed and Floyd laughed with him.

"Maybe a little, sir.  I might better buy a book about the stock market and study up on it, because I won't even know enough to answer their questions if I don't."  He laughed again.

"I tell you what," Frank replied.  "We'll go fifty-fifty.  You read it first and then I will.  Then we'll quiz each other, because after everything that's happened I don't think I know much about the stock market, either."  That brought a heartier laugh from the two men.  They looked at each other with a 'what's next' look.

"You better get outta here before Jeannette comes in," Frank warned.  "She's already caught me drinking coffee from you once.  Besides, Mr. Warner wrote me an order and said I wasn't allowed to laugh until this whole thing was cleared up."

"Now I know you're pullin' my leg, Mr. Bennett," Floyd answered with a smile.  "I've got work to do, anyway."  He rose from his chair and picked the two empty coffee cups up from the desk and made his way to the door.

"Hey Floyd," Frank called out as Floyd was just leaving.  He turned and waited for Frank's instructions.  "Thanks!" Frank said.  Floyd touched his right hand to his forehead in a casual salute and left.

*************  

Not three minutes passed after Floyd left when Alvin walked into Frank's office and closed the door.    He didn't say anything until he took the chair that Floyd had just vacated.

"Another complication," he announced.  "We certainly don't need this, but I'm powerless to do anything about it."

"What's up?" Frank asked.  "Complications are my middle name."

"Joke if you want to," Alvin said.  "You won't like it when you hear it."

"Well, I haven't heard anything yet."

It's just this," Alvin explained.  "Herr Mueller is arriving tomorrow.  He's insisting on a special meeting of the Finance Committee."

"I'm not surprised," Frank said.  "A lot's happened lately.  He's sure to have a good dose of heartburn over the Wertheim deal falling apart."

"Heartburn doesn't scratch the surface," Alvin told him.  "Jim Sweeney tried to put it off, but Mueller would hear none of it.  Lambert is backing Mueller and he carries a lot of weight.  Mueller doesn't have a quorum yet, but Jim thought it wiser to accommodate him before he started campaigning with the other Committee Members."

"Better to get everything out on the table sooner than later.  If the Board starts splintering we'll have a hard time holding things together.  Shoreham and all the others will bail out as soon as there's a whiff of it."

"You should be ready to brief the committee on the whole thing.  You'll have to put aside anything you had planned.  It would be nice if you had some good news on the Chase deal."

"I would consider that one all but dead," Frank said. 

Alvin's jaw dropped.  "That's not good.  And you said yesterday..."

"I stretched it a little for Murray Shoreham.  Officially, we can reopen it, but from the tone I got from my contact there, we shouldn't expect much."

"What're you gonna do?" Alvin queried, in a voice that was pleading for hope.

"We've got some options," Frank answered.  "We can go to Chase's competitors, of course.  I have a different idea, though.  Chase was going to lay off the bulk of the credits to secondary lenders.  If I can find out who they were, we can try to put the deal together ourselves without Chase's help.  I thought we might layer the R&D needs in tiers and let them come in a layer at a time."

"Do you think that'll work?" Alvin asked, raising hopeful eyebrows.  

"It's riskier," Frank said.  "It would be easier for any of them to opt out before the process goes its full course.  Except for that, it wouldn't be much different because we wouldn't be able to use all the funds at the outset, anyway.  My hope is that in a few years Chase will see what they missed out on and ask back in—possibly as a guarantor."       

"You'd let 'em" Alvin asked.

"Sure, for better terms."

"Sounds tricky," Alvin pointed out.

"First we've got to get that 10-Q released, and get the rest of this scandal behind us.  After that, the big thing will be to perform on the goals for the first tier in order to free up the funds for the second, then the third, and so forth."

"And you're sure we can do it..."

"We need to get Jason back in the swing.  He holds the key to the R&D box..  I suggest that you follow through with what you said and have him report to Blake.  He'll keep his feet to the fire."

"The Committee will need to understand this," Alvin advised.  "And if you haven't already guessed, Herr Mueller's agenda is completely different.  I would expect that he's lookin' for your scalp."

"We should have Al Crossman meet with the Committee, too," Frank said, skipping past Alvin's warning.

"I'll be sitting in the meetings as Board Chairman, but I'm not actually a member of the Committee," Alvin continued.  "I know that Jim Sweeney is behind you."

"I know I'm on the hot seat, Alvin," Frank finally acknowledged.  "I've been expecting this.  There's too much at stake to get caught up in it.  If I let myself do that, everything will come apart anyway, so what use would this fancy office be to me?"

"I think you could get Murray Shoreham on your side, too."

"I'd rather not get Murray involved," Frank said.  "He's as nervous as a whore in church.  Another tweak might make him jump ship."

Alvin heaved a deep sigh and shook his head.  "I was a fighter like you when I was younger."

"I'm not sweatin' it, Alvin, and I'm not givin' up, either.  I think it'll be alright."

**************  

With the Directors on the Finance Committee assembling in town, Alvin's chauffer was pressed into service on company business, which forced Gloria to prevail on Brenda for a ride to the Sunrise School.  Brenda arrived early.  She and Gloria had coffee before driving over.

"Sometimes I don't understand you, Gloria," Brenda said.  "It wasn't very long ago that you were complaining about how Trudy was a thorn in your side and she had to be dealt with."

"I know, Bren.  That was the old Gloria.  I was unhappy then.  I didn't think Alvin loved me.  Now he does, and I look at everything differently."

"So, you think Alvin changed—just like that?" Brenda asked, snapping her fingers.  "I don't think people are capable of changing."

"It wasn't changing, as much as rearranging things," Gloria answered.  "All I had to do was not turn away when he came to me.  It was all so easy.  I would never have thought it was so easy."

"And you didn't have to change—or I mean rearrange anything of your own?"

"No, not really."

"You're drinking a lot less, for one thing," Brenda pointed out.

"Maybe just that," Gloria conceded.

"And then there's..."

"What should I have had to do?" Gloria demanded.

Brenda put aside her friend's indignation.  "Well, there's Raul."  

"Yes," Gloria admitted.  "There is that.  But otherwise, I don't see what you mean."

"So, you fired Raul?"

"No," Gloria replied.  "Why should I?  I still need a Personal Trainer to stay in shape."

"There are plenty of those," Brenda answered.  "I just thought with Raul's history of doing double duty..."

"You mean you think I'd be tempted.  Don't worry about that.  As long as Alvin keeps wearing me out, there'll be no need for Raul's extra services.  I can keep him around just to prove that I'm getting all I need from Alvin."

"Prove to whom?" Brenda asked.  "To yourself?  Maybe you want to prove it to Raul."

"No!  None of those," Gloria growled.  "Maybe I'll prove it to you."

"Why would it be important to prove it to me?" 

"Because I said so," Gloria snapped back.  "To you—to everyone and no one—just to prove it." 

"Whatever you say, Gloria.  Besides, if Raul's still around he could be a safety valve in case this thing with Alvin is short-term instead of long-term."

"Long-term, short-term; who knows what's the difference?" Gloria asked.  "Tomorrows are just borrowed yesterdays.  Let me know if you figure it out.  I'm tired of trying to understand it and I certainly don't want to argue over it."

Brenda wasn't sure how to answer Gloria's riddle, so she shrugged and let it fall to the side.  A change of subject was in order because she sensed that soon it would be her turn to reach inside herself and pour out some private emotion, wish or fear.  She kept those elements locked in a safe place, releasing them on rare occasions when she chose to do so.  She was very strict with herself about choosing the correct setting, and the moment at hand didn't qualify.

"So, where does Trudy fit into all this?" she asked.

"As much as I'm surprised to admit it," Gloria said, "I owe Trudy a lot.  For one thing, she helped us straighten out the Foundation."

"What else?" Brenda asked.  "You said 'for one thing'."

Gloria paused before she answered.  Then she blushed and then finally grinned.  "Alvin confided to me that it was Trudy and Frank's marriage that made him come to me.  He wants some of what they have."

"So, you thought you'd treat Trudy to a visit to the school as a big 'thank you'?"

"Yes," Gloria acknowledged.  "Lunch, too," she hastily added.  "But don't say a word of this too her.  It's strictly between you and me."

As Brenda prepared her answer the doorbell rang.  They heard Juana open the door.  "Señora Trudy!" she cried.  "Weel-come.  I weel tell dee Señora."

"Just bring her right out," Gloria yelled out.  

"That's okay, I know my way," Trudy said.

Trudy walked out to the veranda where Gloria and Brenda awaited her.  Trudy was smiling broadly as she approached them.  Gloria stood and gave her a hug, and Brenda followed her lead.

"Café for Señora Trudy," Juana chirped.  She set a steaming cup on the table.

"No thanks; I'm all set," Trudy said.  "I had some before I left the house."

"Oh, have some," Gloria pleaded.  "Brenda and I just started our second cup.  Then we'll get started."

Trudy shrugged and sat at the round table where Juana had placed her cup.  Gloria and Brenda found their places and sat down, too.

"I'm so glad you could come with us today," Gloria said as Trudy raised the steaming cup to her lips.  

Trudy took a sip and set the cup down.  "Thanks for inviting me.  It was a total surprise.  It should be a nice time."

"I thought you'd like to see what all your hard work helps to support.  You did such a fine job getting the Foundation's paperwork straightened out.  The children are a real treat.  You'll see."      

"It's been a while since my girls were in preschool," Trudy admitted.  "I guess we're not getting any younger."

Gloria's sunny expression suddenly darkened.  "Oh, yes," she mumbled.  "I forgot—you have children."

"Maybe you can give us a few pointers," Brenda said, glancing at Gloria out of the corner of her eye.  Gloria's eyes were cast down at the table.

"Like I said," Trudy replied, "it's been a long time for me.  As I remember, there aren't many pointers to give.  You just act naturally and the kids will do the same."

"What if that's not enough?" Gloria hissed.

"It's always enough," Trudy answered.  She looked at Brenda for help, but Brenda detached herself from the conversation.  "It's the only way.  I'm sure that you've seen that for yourself, Gloria."

Gloria didn't look up and didn't answer.

"Of course," Brenda finally spoke.  "If it wasn't for Gloria the children wouldn't have a school to go to."

Gloria's face brightened a little. Brenda had known that it would.  She had the key to Gloria's moods—a power held by no one else.  It was for Brenda to wind Gloria down at the proper time—and for her to determine the correct moment and means to do it.  It was a responsibility as well as a power, and she employed it wisely.  

*************  

The three women finished their coffees and then quickly piled into Brenda's car to set off for Sunrise School.  As Brenda drove she wondered to herself if it had been wise to invite Trudy for a drink from the grail.  After Trudy's instruction about acting naturally with the children, Brenda was certain that they would be attracted to the tall lady with the yellow hair and broad smile who was, somehow, homely and pretty at the same time.  It was a smile that lacked sophistication and discernment—Brenda knew that.  Could one blame the children for not realizing it?  If Gloria suspected that Trudy was gulping from the grail when only a sip was offered, things could get unpleasant.  Brenda suspected that Trudy was the gulping type.  

Along the way Trudy was chattering away.  She asked Gloria how she had come upon such a wonderful idea to sponsor the school and admitted how fortunate they all were to have a chance to have a small part to play in it.  Gloria ate it up with a spoon, of course.  Brenda began to suspect that Trudy was more sophisticated—albeit in a sneaky way—than she had first assumed.  It was obvious that she was setting Gloria up for the big fall.  To what end was still a mystery.  It didn't matter because Brenda knew that when it happened she would be in her usual place, picking up the pieces—putting them back together.  The new Gloria would be no more.  The real her—the old one—would come back to life.

"There it is," Gloria called out from the front passenger's seat.  She pointed to the freshly painted stucco building.  It had the Sunrise sign over the front door with the half-sun and the warm rays streaming from it.  The brightly painted tan walls with the green and pink trim under the terra-cotta roof was the nicest building in the neighborhood of drab buildings of worn, muddy colors and overwhelming graffiti.

"Looks like a nice place," Trudy called back.  

"It's important to make a positive statement," Gloria agreed.  "Of course, it's only a matter of time before that wall gets some kind of graffiti sprayed on it.   That's just part of the territory.  When it does, I'll have it repainted."

"That could get expensive," Trudy warned.

"Maybe," Gloria agreed.  "We have to send the message that we won't stand for anyone spoiling our dreams."  

As Brenda parked the car Madeline appeared at the front door waiting for them.

"Hello, we're glad to see you," she cheerfully greeted them.  Gloria introduced Trudy to Madeleine.  "We were just about to do our ABC's," Maddy announced.

"Oh, can I?" Gloria pleaded.

"That's what we were waiting for," Maddy answered.  They went straight to the Assembly Room where the young students were seated on the floor on their 'nap-mats'.  Madeleine strode to the front of the class.  Behind her there were cards mounted on the wall with the English and Spanish alphabets in upper and lower case letters.  The three visitors stood to the side.

"It's time for our ABC's, children," she said.  "I'll lead you through the Spanish letters first.  Then, we'll do English.  I asked Señora Gloria to lead us through those."  The children all turned to catch a glance of their benefactor, standing with Brenda and Trudy.  

"Good morning, Señora Gloria."  Gloria blushed when the children chanted in unison as Maddy led them.  Without waiting any longer she led them through the letters.  

When they were done, Gloria hurried to the front of the class and took the baton from the teacher.  "Do you remember the 'Alphabet Song', children?" she asked.  Without waiting for the answer she started singing the familiar tune while pointing to the English letters on the cards.  "A-B-C-D-E-F-G..."  The children fell into the song, a little weakly.  Gloria didn't appear to notice.  To Brenda, it looked as though she was dreaming as she sang out the letters, imagining the children as she wanted them to be.  Finally, they finished the song.

A precocious little girl stood up among the score of children.  "Señora Gloria, who is that new lady?" she asked as she pointed at Trudy.  

"That's my friend, Señora Trudy," Gloria answered.  "I asked her to come with me to visit you today."  The girl sat back down.

"Why don't we have Señora Trudy lead the children through the ABC's, too?" Brenda blurted out.  She knew it was unfair surprise to pull on Trudy, but she thought Gloria's morale could use a boost and she would enjoy instructing the stumbling newcomer.  The children shouted in glee.  Trudy raised her hands to her face to catch her breath and then started to giggle in a sheepish way. 

"I couldn't; I don't know how," she stammered, still laughing.  

"Yes—yes," the children were yelling.

"They're insisting that you try it," Gloria called over.  She held the baton out for her.  "Everyone knows their ABC's."

The children were howling even louder and Trudy made her way to the front of the assembly.  Her cheeks had turned a rosy red against shoulder-length flaxen hair her and she looked awkward as she stood a full head taller than her new mentor.  When she finally arrived at her place she slowly reached out and took the baton from Gloria.

"Don't worry, dear.  They won't bite.  I was nervous my first time, too."  Gloria hesitated a moment, as if she would stay and help Trudy, but then relinquished her place in the front and went to stand alongside Brenda and Maddy.  "It'll be okay," she whispered to Brenda.  "I'll rescue her if she falls apart."  

At the front of the class Trudy paused, looking out over the collection of curious faces.  The children had ceased their cheering and fallen into silent curiosity as they perused this new Anglo lady.  "Well kids," she said with her abashed smile still implanted on her face, "I'm not sure I know how to do this.  Would you like to try it a little different way?"  The students answered with a resounding cheer.  Trudy set the baton on a nearby podium.  "Okay, then, let's go!"

Trudy hopped up into the air and landed with her feet spread apart and arms crossed in front of her chest.  "A!" she called out.




The Brass Statuettes Ch. 10



"A!" the children repeated.  

She proceeded to contort her lanky body, progressing through the letters.  The children repeated the letters as she called them out.  With each letter the children's excitement grew stronger.  Suddenly Trudy paused.  "I can't figure out how to make 'Q'," she cried out to her audience.

"Like this!"  A boy hopped up and repeated Trudy's 'O' form, while balancing on his left foot and holding his right leg out at a rigid forty-five degrees.

"Great!" Trudy yelled as she pointed at him.  She continued on with 'R' and then all the way to 'Z'.

It was a big hit with the children.  "Again—again," they yelled.  

Maddy came to Trudy's rescue.  "Maybe later, children.  It's time for lunch now."

As the children formed a line behind the Assistant Teacher to prepare to go to the lunchroom, the three women retired to Maddy's office.

"That was really something, Trudy," Maddy gushed.

"Yes, really something," Gloria mumbled.

"It was just clowning around," Trudy replied.  "The kids liked it, so it was fun."

Brenda remained silent, but studied Gloria's expression with care.  She hadn't foreseen Trudy's sudden rise to stardom and realized how serious a mistake she'd made.  Gloria was smiling but Brenda noticed that secret furrow in her brow.  Brenda had come to notice things about Gloria that few others did.  

"Do you mind if I use your routine from time to time?" Maddy asked, still fawning on Trudy and her performance.

"It's all yours," Trudy said and shrugged and laughed.

"We still have business to attend to," Brenda interrupted.

"You're right as usual, Bren," Gloria agreed as they all took seats around Maddy's desk.  "We have to firm up the arrangements for the pool party for the office secretaries."

"It's all set, except for the children's artwork display," Maddy said.  "We'd like to bring over something good, but so far we haven't had any good results."

"Get them to try again," Gloria insisted.  "The photos will be real nice, but the paintings are sure to do the trick."

"What seems to be the trouble," Trudy asked.  "Drawing and kids always go together."

"Of course, we told them to draw something nice," Maddy answered.  "Unfortunately, their surroundings outside this school don't make good subjects for artwork."  

"How about a landscape, or something like that," Brenda suggested.

"The children don't get to see landscapes very often.  Their world is those streets out there."

"Well, that won't do," Gloria said.

"Get them to draw something nice that they're familiar with," Trudy suggested.

"Of course," Maddy agreed, "but what?

"Themselves;" Trudy answered, "or themselves with their family or schoolmates—whatever they want.  I'm sure you'll get some interesting drawings to display and the children will enjoy doing it."

"Trudy, the human form is the most difficult thing to capture," Brenda interjected.  "I recall from my college art classes..." 

"It doesn't matter," Trudy argued.  "We're just trying to show the personalities of the children.  No one will expect a Rembrandt."

"I think you have it," "Maddy declared.  "Trudy, you have such a deep understanding of children.  You must have studied child development in college."

"No," Trudy answered.  She paused and looked at the floor.  "No I never did."  Maddy shook her head in disbelief.  "I had a lot of practice with my two kids," Trudy added as she looked up.

It was late in the afternoon when the three women arrived back at Gloria's house.  The downtown traffic had been especially unpleasant.  Gloria looked tired and chose to sit in the back seat.  Brenda concentrated on traffic, so there was little conversation during the ride. 

"Come out by the pool and we'll have a margarita," Gloria offered.

"Don't mind if I do," Brenda answered.  She wondered if the new Gloria was still intact, or if her special services would be required.

"I'll take a raincheck," Trudy replied.  "I need to get home and throw something together for dinner."  She hopped into her car and was soon disappearing down the long driveway.

Gloria and Brenda made their way quickly through the house.  Juana greeted them.

"Juana, be a dear and bring us margaritas on the veranda," Gloria asked.

"No Señora Trudy?" Juana inquired with no small measure of hope in her voice.

Brenda could see the new Gloria was trying to hold together.  She wondered if the old Gloria would out-wrestle the new one.

They sat under an umbrella over a round table sipping their drinks.  Gloria wasn't saying much.

"For someone new to the scene, Trudy certainly got a lot of attention," Brenda said.

"Oh, I know," Gloria sighed.  "Trudy this and Trudy that.  Even Juana can't get her off her mind."

"It's all right," Brenda soothed.  "A flash in the pan.  You're still the one driving all of this."

"It doesn't matter," Gloria said after taking a deep breath.  "The old Gloria would have been upset.  I'm glad that we have Trudy working with us."

The words were the right ones for the new Gloria, but to Brenda's ear, there was an undertone of defeat."

"Well, it's true that her idea about the artwork was a lifesaver," Brenda reminded her.

"Yes, the bit with forming the letters was brilliant, too."

"She probably saw it done somewhere.  It couldn't have been her own idea," Brenda said.

"Perhaps," Gloria mumbled as she sunk lower in her chair.  "The children liked it.  That's all that matters."

"If it weren't for you there would be no school," Brenda intoned the familiar mantra.  "The children love you."

Special services come in many forms.  Brenda had already completed all that were required for that afternoon. 

******************  

After Frank completed his presentation to the Finance Committee he left the Board Room and returned to his office.

"How did it go?" Jeannette asked as he rounded the corner.

"Okay, I guess," Frank answered.  "It's never as good as you want it to be.  Some of them hardly listened; others were very supportive.  It was the same ones you could have predicted before it all started."

"It's so unfair," Jeannette sighed.  "You didn't have anything to do with creating this mess.  All you tried to do is handle it."

"Don't ship me off to the undertaker yet," Frank insisted.  "I'm still breathing.  At least Alvin and Jim Sweeney were on my side."

"You've been in tough spots before," Jeannette reminded him in her low, soft voice.

"In the end," Frank deduced, "I'll probably keep my job because they won't agree on what else to do."  He turned and started for his office.

"Coffee?" Jeannette called after him.  

"That would be great," he replied without looking back at her.

"I'll bring some in as soon as it's finished.  I have some brewing right now."

In the Board Room the Committee was reconvening after taking a short break.  There were five members, but two couldn't make it on such short notice and were absent.  The quorum of three was sufficient, which were the Chairman, Jim Sweeney, Detlef Mueller and Simon Lambert.  As Board Chairman, Alvin sat in ex-officio but had no vote.

Sweeney brought the meeting to order.  "I think it's time to discuss Frank's presentation."  He looked around the table and the members sat silently.  Their eyes cast downward, possibly studying the fine grain of the mahogany table at which they sat.  "I, for one, think that Frank is doing a good job in a tough situation," Sweeney continued, breaking the silence.  "He's done a lot to keep the ship afloat and he's got a solid strategy on finding a way out."

"Nein, nein," Mueller shouted.  "Zee mare-jare wit zee Wertheim Grupen is ruined, und it is all 'is fault.  Herr Bennett never sooported zee ackweezeeshone."

"Aw, c'mon, Detlef," Alvin said.  "That's not fair to say."

"'e vass against it frome zee beegeening."

""It's true, he counseled against it," Alvin said, "but after the Board decided..."

"Unt zen, zee shelf registration."

"Well, I suppose..." Alvin admitted.  "But I think that's all out of context."

"You agreed with Frank when he shelved the registration, didn't you Alvin?" Sweeney pointed out.  "In my opinion, it was damned straight thinking.  I thought it then, and I think so now."

"Well...yes; but I based my support on his recommendation," Alvin said.

Mueller and Sweeney stared at one another.  They had never been allies during their tenures on the Board.  Sweeney had always suspected the motives of the German banker.  A seat on the Finance Committee had been a condition that Mueller laid down to join the Western Board two years before.  A year after that he insisted on bringing his ally, Simon Lambert on the Board as a condition for staying.  Jim Sweeney was always a man who fought back when his arm was being twisted.  He sensed that Herr Mueller was biding his time till the day he could take over the chair of the Finance Committee.

"The acquisition in Germany was of great strategic importance," Lambert, the academic, said.  "Delaying the stock issue might have been an advantage in the moment, but was possibly short-sighted for the long-term."  He paused, letting a smug look descend upon him and cast a furtive glance in Mueller's direction.  The German nodded, thrusting out his lower lip to put his confidence on display.  Lambert reached nervously into his suit coat pocket to fetch his pipe and started to fiddle with it. 

"It's hard to understand you, Simon," Sweeney said.  "'Might and possibly'—they're boardroom words.  They're not worth much when it's crunch time.  If I could only have one man with me at crunch time, Frank..."  

"Frank was right," Alvin stammered.  "We could never have sold out the shareholders' interest so cheaply."

"True enough," Sweeney seconded.  "Look, there'll be other deals in Europe, if that's what we really want." 

Mueller slapped his hand on the table.  "I knew it," he shouted.  "It vass a treek.  You ver against zee mare-jare, too."

"Aw, come off it," Sweeney scowled and looked away.

"We've got to come together on this," Lambert chanted.

"Unity of the Board is the most important thing," Alvin agreed.

"No one deep-sixed the merger," Sweeney insisted.  "It just wasn't meant to be."

"You can prove it if you fire Bennett," Mueller spat back.

The last man in the room had said nothing so far.  It was Al Crossman, the corporation's outside legal counsel.  "You can't fire Bennett—at least not now."  The men ceased their arguing and turned toward him at the far end of the table.

"For one thing," he began, "if you let him go right now, everyone, including the SEC and the FBI will take that as a sign that there is some kind of guilt in the management ranks..."

"Pairhops d'ere vas," Mueller shot back.

"For another thing," Crossman continued, ignoring Mueller's interruption, "the major shareholders support Frank.  I know this is true.  Murray Shoreham called me yesterday.  He's nervous, but he'll hang tight if Frank's running Finance.  If not..."

"Then we can do nothing for the time being," Lambert said.  "We're arguing for no purpose."

"That's my feeling, too," Alvin added.

"So, Bennett stays," Sweeney confirmed.

Mueller shook his head sadly and waved his hand at the others in disgust.  "Ach!  Was ist los?"

***************  

TO BE CONTINUED


Dear Readers,

Thanks for reading.  I hope you're enjoying the story so far.  I'm always interested in your comments.  Please send them to me, either in the Public section, or the private mail facility.  

AW  



The Brass Statuettes Ch. 11



© Copyright 2007

Chapter 11 Fall from Grace

"Buenos dias, Señora Warner," Juana chanted, "Chu are a-wake airlee dees morning." She placed a coffee cup and saucer on the table where Gloria always sat and poured it full of the magic black elixir. She resumed humming her song and hurried to the refrigerator to get the cream; the sugar was already on the table. "What can I make for chu dees morning, Señora?" 

"Don't go to any trouble for me," Gloria answered.

"Eet would be a plai-sure, Señora."

Gloria stole a glance and Juana saw it. It was certainly true that the recent peace between them was a welcome change from what had been before the new Gloria came into being. Juana halted her singing. She expected Gloria's acceptance of the proffered service as confirmation of the new order. Gloria reconsidered. "Alright; just a half-grapefruit, please. I have my workout in a little while. I don't like too a full stomach for that."

"Una toronga para la Señora," Juana lilted as she made a song out of the breakfast order. She cut a grapefruit in half and carefully incised the wedges of fruit and set the bowl in front of Gloria.

"Take the other half for yourself," Gloria offered.

"Muchas gracias, Señora. I weel save eet for later. Maybe for José, I teenk—eef dat's okay."

Gloria nodded but didn't answer. Juana could see she was occupied by her own thoughts. Her mistress was already dressed in her exercise leotard. Juana realized Gloria didn't really want the grapefruit as she watched her poke at it with her spoon. It confirmed that Gloria agreed to it because she knew Juana wanted to do it for her, and that satisfied the maid all the more. 

Juana finished straightening up the kitchen and then shuffled off to the dining room to polish the furniture. The dining room furniture had to be the most polished of all those in the State of Texas. Juana gave herself a task in the dining room whenever she wanted the best vantage of the driveway. At that moment, it was as lookout for Raul. 

Despite Juana's contempt for the man—or perhaps because of it—she kept herself informed of his every moment on the premises. Her vigilance was born of instinctive wariness. "Algo peligro y pulido." She couldn't explain her feelings, so she told no one, except José, who reminded her that it was none of her business. She ignored the advice.

Had Raul been a gringo, she would have let the matter drop. Her failure to comprehend would not have alarmed her, because she had seen so much throughout the years that she and José were charged with care of the house. But, he was not an Anglo. He treasured money, like most of them. It was the way that he went about acquiring it that was most offensive to Juana. He didn't toil, as did her José and even the peones who came to the estate to help him. His white linen pants and skin-tight polo shirt gave him an effeminate quality—at least in Juana's eyes. "Como una mujere." What sort of man takes his money from women, who pay him to soothe away their fears—of growing old, or fat, or unloved? 

"Yo soy vieja y gorda." What were these gringas afraid of? She thought more. "But, I am not unloved," She thought of José; it had to be the difference. She resumed singing her happy song. But, as she sang she continued her vigilance, for her new understanding did not make her reconsider her opinion of Raul. 

Juana was happy for Señora Gloria and Señor Alvin; and because of what they found, it was a happy house, so she was happy for herself, too. She knew, however, that her mistress had many fears and was not strong. 

************ 

Gloria finished her grapefruit and then her coffee and rose from the table. "Tell Raul to come right out to the mini-gym," Gloria called to Juana as she left by the back door and over the veranda. After she closed the door to the gym she took a clean towel from the closet and began her stretching. 

Gloria bent carefully from the waist, slowly loosening her hamstrings and groin muscles. She felt them grudgingly give in. She glanced up at a mirror that was mounted on the wall. It was full length, designed to help her to perfect her symmetry as she slaved to stave off the effects of age. 

She beheld herself in the skin-tight leotard. An evil premise passed through her mind. "Am I finally losing it?" She straightened up and looked closer Everything seemed to be in place, but she sighed anyway and searched even more carefully. Perfection was a most difficult property to capture and couldn't be discerned by a passing glance. She pinched the flesh just above her hips, searching for love handles. There seemed to be a little. In truth it was no more than had been present for at least several years. Still, it was never possible to be sure. She did the same to her belly. There might have been a margarita or two loitering there. She grimaced. She'd have to cut down even more, or perhaps, revert to unsweetened iced tea with vodka, flavored with mint leaves. 

Finally, she cupped her hands upward and cradled her large breasts. She felt their weight and in the mirror she judged their shape. It enabled her to shed the grimace and smile. "Still pretty good!" The nipples began hardening and pressed through the material of her bra and the thin fabric of the leotard. They had always been her best feature, and their size made her waist appear smaller. "Brenda's are probably better," she admitted in a secret thought. "That's for me to know." She thought on it more and came to realize that by the time Brenda figured it out some other pretender would have surpassed her and thus, Brenda would never hold the title. "For me to know," she repeated to herself. 

She continued cradling them. Her hold was firm, but gentle—as it would have been for the babies that might have suckled there if some things had been different. Subconsciously her thumbs rubbed across the stiff nipples. She closed her eyes and remembered the pleasure of the night ended short hours ago when Alvin had lavished so much attention on them before entering her. It excited him, so she was sure that he loved her, at least in that moment. It had given her pleasure, too. The feeling had been absent so long. It was that elusive connection between nipple and clitoris which was so hard to find and even more difficult to command. It had, at long-last, returned and she let herself go—allowed the feelings to surround her. Alvin had, as well, and it had been beautiful. After that, they drifted off in each others' arm like honeymooners. 

She opened her eyes, aware that Raul would arrive at any moment. She thought that she detected a faint scent of her musk. She hurried to the closet and took out a plastic bottle of scented talcum powder. She lowered her leotard, sprinkled the powder liberally in her panties and then hoisted the leotard back into place. 

There was a time—not long ago—when she would have let the beckoning scent leak out as a signal to Raul. "No need for that today." The shape of her life was molding into a form that pleased her more than the old one. She thought back to her past pleasure-seeking with Raul. It brought neither sting of guilt, nor remorse at its being in the past. He had been what had been provided to her at that time. She had always been determined to sate herself. It mattered little if it was with pleasure, food, drink or love. She was determined to always be sated. Things had changed; Raul would understand.

She started stretching again. There was a knock at the windowless door. "Señora Warner, I am here." It was Raul. She straightened up, checked herself in the mirror. Her nipples were still hard. She draped the towel over her neck to hide them. She lifted her leg to check the space between her legs for telltale signs of her daydreaming. Finding none, she fluffed her hair.

"Just a second, Raul. I'll be right there."

*********** 

"Are chu ready for a good workout today, Señora?" He set his gym bag down on the floor. It was the same one that he always carried and Gloria was sure that he was prepared with the usual accessories. He set it next to the full-length mirror. Gloria eyed it, thinking about what the bag contained and what the mirror had told her moments ago. "Señora Warner," Raul called in a louder voice than usual, as if to gain her attention. He must have been repeating himself. Gloria spun her head in his direction. The volume of his voice returned to normal. "Señora Warner, 'ave chu finished dee stretching?" Gloria thought she detected a faint smile—a sly one that said that he had seen her staring at his gym bag and thinking of the condoms inside that he brought for later.

Gloria shook her head. "Not quite," she answered a halting voice.

"Very well, den. Finish up and then on to dee scales, and then dee bi-ceecle." Gloria obeyed and was soon barely daring to look as Raul slid the merciless weights on the scale arms. He hesitated and then took a notebook from his bag and studied it. He shook his head slowly. "Four pounds of increase, I am afraid," he announced.

"You know it was my time of month," she pleaded.

"Maybe, too much dee lunch," he countered. Gloria thought he gave his Mexican accent a little too much embellishment. He did that when he wanted to be blunt but retain the option of passing it off as a joke if any umbrage arose. 

"Yes, maybe a little," Gloria admitted. She could admit it to Raul without fear. He was her priest; the mini-gym the confessional. 

"Ees okay," he assured her. "I weel help you. Today we weel 'ave a very good workout." He paused as Gloria hopped onto the exercise bike without being told. "A very thorough workout," he repeated, and Gloria knew at that moment what he planned.

She had four unwanted pounds. It was her fault. She had sinned and Raul would send her to purgatory. Soon she was laboring for breath on her bike ride to nowhere. "Dee bike ees good for dee heeps and upper legs, Señora," he called out to encourage her. "Teenk about wearing dee bikini. Eet weel make you pedal faster."

He was right, of course. It did make Gloria put out harder during the final minute. There was something about the way he mentioned 'bikini' that reminded her of the accessories in his bag. The rowing machine was next, and then the treadmill. Faithful to his promise he worked her harder than he ever had.

"How much longer, Raul?" she pleaded, gasping for breath.

"Only dee rolling pin," he answered. "We're almost done."

She looked at him, trying to read his expression, but saw nothing behind the thin moustache and dark eyes. She laid herself prone on the massage table. Raul stroked the flesh with the dowel. He pressed down hard; it felt good. "Ees not bad, actually," he said to her from behind. "Ees still quite smooth and firm." She felt even better. He continued that way for a few minutes. It relaxed her—first one leg, and then the other. He shifted his attention to the cheeks pointing skyward from her hips. He stroked from the bottom, where they joined her thighs all the way to her lower back. It made her cellulite and tension disappear. 

Without warning, he placed his hand on her inner thigh. She gasped slightly, not expecting it, but the touch was not altogether unwanted. She let his hand linger for a few seconds. "Open them up," he commanded, "so I can do dee eenside." She obeyed again, as she had the whole morning. Raul had a smaller rolling pin for that area. His teasing attention made Gloria think thoughts.

"Well, I can think them can't I?" she demanded silently. After all, the new Gloria was a complete woman, and she would save the peculiar tension for Alvin to release from her later that night. She relaxed as Raul found a rhythm and soon it wasn't possible to tell if her pleasure came from her dreamy fantasies or from his practiced touch. 

"Roll over, please, Señora; ees time for dee front." Gloria promptly obeyed, and this time she was sure that she could discern that familiar, evil smile that he wore at certain times. 

She had enjoyed the rolling of her flesh as she lay on her stomach and he had ventured so close to that special place that he and she knew so well. She could have enjoyed it for hours, wondering how close to the target he would dare touch her. She flipped over on her back without hesitation, however, because it was in this position that the delicious, dangerous game became especially interesting. 

He started dutifully on the fronts of her thighs. Gloria grew impatient, waiting for the upward strokes that would approach her sex. She waited for his hand to press between her thighs to bid her open them. She considered opening them on her own, but did not because that would negate a crucial part of the game. She closed her eyes and let him do it all, of course. She enjoyed the slow approach, the anticipation, and the recall of times it had happened before. There was a droplet of sweat on her forehead and it ran down her temple; her breathing was rapid. His stroking with the rolling pin was getting higher—near that precious triangle that made everything happen. She was excited—she could smell her excitement; Raul could certainly smell it, too, but she didn't care. He touched her, tentatively; she let it spur her expectation of touches that increased in their boldness with each repeated motion. She dared not open her eyes.

Then it happened; his hand stroked at her upper thighs. "Open here, please," he whispered in her ear. She shuddered as she felt his breath on her earlobe and more as she spread her thighs and he slowly stroked upwards from between her legs toward her Mound of Venus. The pleasure tapped out the distant drumbeat of a forming climax, agonizingly slow and delicious. Soon he would tenderly move the rolling pin over her clitoris and ask her if she wanted the Deluxe Workout. She would have to say 'yes' after allowing him to proceed so far. It would be perfect; she would climax immediately and many more times before he finished her.

"I don't think I want the Deluxe Workout today, Raul," she forced the words from her mouth as she panted. 

He stopped immediately. The emptiness of sensation nearly made her plead with him to let her change her mind. She opened her eyes. In his eyes there was something—she knew not what. It could have been rage or disappointment. Whatever it was, the eyes were dark. Raul drew a deep breath and stepped back from the table. 

"Of course, Señora," he said in a low, expressionless voice. "I only thought..."

"It's my fault, dear Raul," Gloria whined. "Please don't be angry. It's just that..." she hesitated, searching for an excuse. 

"Ees okay," Raul mumbled, excusing her from her duty to explain. "I teenk we are done for today."

Gloria swung herself off the massage table. "He mustn't be angry! He has to return!" She ran to her wallet and extracted a wad of cash. She was thinking hard—for something to console him. 

"You know my friend, Brenda needs a personal trainer," she gushed as she handed him the money. "Would you like me to ask her to join us next time?"

Raul stuck out his lower lip, mulling the possibilities. He said nothing, but shrugged in a 'whatever you want' expression. He turned for the door. "See you next week, Señora Warner." He walked through the door of the mini-gym, not bothering to close it behind him.

Gloria sat on the edge of the massage table thinking about what happened. Her heart was beating fast. She was thankful that she had saved the virtue of the new Gloria—if in the nick of time. A double-edged blade of pride and disappointment clawed at the back of her mind as she thought about the satiation she had just foregone. "Alvin better be up to it tonight."

She was drenched with sweat; could smell the aroma of her arousal. If she could smell it, certainly Juana would, too and she dreaded facing her disapproval. The pool was nearby. She walked over, opened the gate and jumped in, leotard and all. The sensation of the cold water excited her again, but it would be okay. All discernible traces were washed away and she would finish herself in the shower in a few minutes. She lingered in the water for a few minutes.

In the house Juana saw Raul leave and her Señora in the pool. Raul bore a strange manner as he shuffled through the house to the driveway and his waiting car. Juana had never seen the Señora swim after the workout, especially in her exercise clothes. She tried to sort through the possibilities but there were too many to fathom. They were less complicated in earlier days. She chose to decide nothing and keep watching.

************** 

Gloria stepped out of the shower feeling better. She'd been oh-so-close to giving in to Raul, but in the end she hadn't and that's what counted. She's let him go further than was proper, but it was not far enough and she was certainly excited, even after the shower. Alvin would be the benefactor, so why should he complain that she'd received her prompting from another. He'd never know, anyway. It was fun to be the new Gloria and just a little naughty, too.

It was time to start preparing for the secretaries' pool party later that day. She toweled off her breasts, and then her mons. She looked out the bathroom window. It had been cloudy. The forecast said sunny later. She hoped it would come true, because if it rained she would have to move the party inside and that would be a poor second-best. The secretaries were women like her, after all. She was sure that if she could get them scantily clad by the pool, ply them with drinks and fancy seafood canapés and break their hearts with little children's stories and artwork they would have to go along with her plan. What woman wouldn't under those circumstances—whether it had to do with donating hours doing office work or giving in to anything else? Gloria had seen it work more than once.

It looked like the sun was starting to burn through the clouds, which meant that her plan was beginning to work perfectly. Raul's admonition about the four extra pounds made her reconsider her bathing suit choice. She had a number of bikinis. She wondered if a mere four extra pounds would show all that much. She finally decided on a prudent one-piece. It strategically held her tummy in check, but showed plenty of breast to remind all who had the best tits in the place. Over that she put on her loose cropped-pants and a billowy blouse.

Besides, she knew that most of the secretaries sported more than four extra pounds and would certainly wear tank suits. Gloria could be a buffer between her guests and the trio of body-honed co-hosts: Brenda, Ashley and Darlene. They would surely be wearing bikinis. Trudy would be on hand, too—still the X-factor. She might show up in anything.

"Juana, when the guests come show them where they can change into their swimsuits." She had set aside the four guest bedrooms for that purpose. 

"Si, Señora Warner. Do chu want me to serve dee food?"

"No, Juana," Gloria answered. "That won't be necessary. The caterers will do all that. Just be ready to help them find anything they might need like water and electricity. Your job will be to make sure that our guests are comfortable and find everything they need. After that, help yourself to a nice lunch." 

Gloria's next task was to arrange the display of the children's artwork and the photos of the school. She needed a place that was in clear view and easy access, but out of the line of traffic at the same time. She set about her task humming a tune. She was finding that she was enjoying her hostess role for this party more than she had in quite a long time.

The caterers were arriving. Gloria had worked with them before and she stepped aside as they went about their business. She looked at her watch, though, wondering why Maddy wasn't yet on the scene with all the things from the school. She reminded herself that it was a long drive and traffic in the middle of the city could be unpredictable. At the same time, she pondered a little about Maddy. She was a sweet thing, of course, but more at ease with a room full of children than a pool full of secretaries. 




The Brass Statuettes Ch. 11



"She's a bean-sprouts kind of person," Gloria thought, "quite unused to the more sophisticated ladies that will be here. It probably explains why she's devoted herself to teaching little children. I'll give her some help getting her feet on the ground with this crowd." 

Two of the workers from the caterers distracted her and she moved aside to make room for them as they carried a long table into the pool area.

"She's cute as a button, though. When things settle down I'll have to find a young man for her that will bring her out of her shell."

Gloria was satisfied that the caterers knew what they were doing. She lost herself for a few moments looking out over the gardens. José was not in sight, but she noticed how perfectly he'd prepared the grounds for anyone who wished to see them. No doubt more than a few of the secretaries would want to take a tour. She was startled when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

It was Maddy. "I didn't mean to startle you. I set the artwork and photos over there," she said, pointing to a corner of the veranda that seemed out of the way. There were easels in the pile, too. 

"Oh, how long have you been here?" Gloria asked.

"Long enough to unload those things from my car. I didn't want to bother you while you were looking at the gardens. I can see why you love them so." 

Maddy was dressed in her usual rustic style—the ankle length canvas skirt with the peasant-style flowered blouse and sandals. She wore no makeup but her face was beaming with a broad smile that gave color to her cheeks. She had loosed the bun on her ashen-colored hair and it highlighted her shoulders as it draped on them. She was quite petite—perhaps five-two. Gloria noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra, which was a minor faux pas. It was a party for women and soon there would be more bare breast on display than the wobbly suggestion under Maddy's top. The nipples just barely pressed against the cotton fabric. Gloria wondered just how they would rank when she had them on display in her bathing suit.

Gloria pointed to Maddy's materials. "I was just trying to figure out the best place for them."

"What about right where they are now?" Maddy suggested, except a little farther out toward the sunlight. They'll be close at hand, but not in the way. I'll set them up after the caterers are finished getting ready."

Gloria nodded. "Such a smart young girl!" She was more convinced that all she needed was a knowledgeable young man to bring her to life in the fullest sense. She made a note to herself to see to that later.

"You have some time while you're waiting," Gloria said. "Why don't you change into your suit?" 

"I'm not much for bathing suits," she answered. "I brought some shorts and a tee shirt that I use when I go swimming. I think I'll wait and put them on later."

Gloria was temporarily taken aback. "Everyone else will be wearing their suits," she explained. "I have mine on under these clothes," she said, pulling her blouse aside to prove it. "Why don't you change now? There may not be time later. You can use the mini-gym." Gloria pointed to the door of her sanctum and Maddy shrugged and picked up a tote bag from her pile of things and made her way to where Gloria had directed her. 

As Maddy disappeared behind the mini-gym door Gloria began thinking about her new project. "A nice young man; experienced but not too much so; slightly older than she—he would need to be about twenty-seven or twenty-eight. It wouldn't have to be anything permanent—just intimate enough to bed her for a few months and teach her the ways of the world." That would complete that part of Maddy that Gloria judged was still missing and would allow her into full membership in the fold. 

As Gloria was just settling deep into her pondering she saw Trudy walking toward her from the veranda.

"Hi! I came early—thought you could use a hand getting things set up." 

"Trudy—how thoughtful," Gloria called to her as she approached. "No need to trouble yourself, really. The caterers have it well in hand."

"Juana showed me where to change into my suit," Trudy answered back, seeming to ignore Gloria's reply. Trudy was wearing what might have passed for a bikini. At least the suit was in two pieces, but not very revealing. Over that she wore a light cover-up made of cotton seersucker that she left unbuttoned. Of course, the suit was in her favorite royal blue color.

At first, Gloria was uninterested in Trudy's swimwear. She had no reason to covet the tall woman's clumsy figure. She took a second glance, though, because men seemed to like Trudy and there must be something there that attracted them. It was so hard to rate Trudy's figure against hers. Gloria's form was classic; an hourglass sculpted under Raul's tutelage, topped by award winning breasts. Trudy was lean, it was true. Gloria searched through the open panels of her cover-up for stretch marks—since she had two babies. To her dismay, she found none. 

Gloria re-judged Trudy's figure to have a gazelle-like quality, and that was good for her. She need not worry, for Trudy was modestly endowed, so Gloria would never need fear being matched in that department. Brenda's ranking was probably safe, too. Darlene and Ashley weren't so secure, Gloria deduced, so they'd better take note. She'd instruct them in a private moment. Gloria wondered to herself why Trudy didn't flaunt her figure more often.

At that moment Maddy emerged from the mini-gym. Gloria gasped and then let the breath out slowly, as if she could take back the expression. "Oh Maddy, dear," she said as she recovered. "You remember Trudy from the school the other day."

"How can I forget?" Maddy replied and extended her hand to Trudy. As her two guests embraced, Gloria looked more closely at Maddy's legs, now bare under cutoff shorts. They were unshaven. A coating of fuzz covered them from knee to ankle. Gloria also noticed that she was still braless under the tee-shirt she'd changed into. She started thinking that her new project would prove more complicated than she first thought.

"Thank goodness she has light-colored hair. Maybe only a few will notice." She wondered if Maddy had some Mexican ancestry because many of those women didn't shave their legs. She'd find out later. For the moment, she hoped that Maddy hadn't heard her gasp, or, at least, understand why she had.

There was no time for figuring that out because the guests seemed to arrive all at once. The secretaries were mostly middle-aged women, who wore modest suits. They were excited to be invited to the mansion and immediately dove into the luxurious food and drink. They knew why they had been invited—their bosses had given the word. It didn't matter very much. The setting was right and they were in a party mood.

Brenda, Ashley and Darlene arrived, too. Their bikinis were noticeably much less modest. Gloria shook her head. The immaturity of her co-hosts was showing. She knew that they chose their bathing suits as a way to show up the older women. It was a stupid maneuver, but Gloria admitted to herself that she would have done the same in her younger days. "It's my fault. I should have told them ahead of time." Gloria smiled at herself. The new Gloria was kind and forgiving.

"Someone's missing," Gloria pointed out. "Who could it be?"

"Jeannette," answered Doris, who was Alvin's secretary. "Frank kept her later than the rest of us. They were finishing something up."

"You better set Frank straight when you see him," Gloria joked to Trudy. Trudy just laughed. 

"If it takes that long for Frank to finish up, he must be pretty good," Ashley blurted out. Darlene and Brenda giggled at the joke.

Trudy shot an angry glance Ashley's way, but then looked away. For a moment the guests were silent. Trudy found one of the student's self-portraits that she liked. "Look! How cute," she exclaimed and pointed at the picture on the easel. The crowd heaved a sigh of relief and went back to chattering away. 

Gloria had a drink in her hand. In fact, everyone did and for most it was their second round. The trio of co-hosts sunned themselves at poolside in chaises sipping on margaritas. The secretaries mostly congregated around the school exhibit, asking Maddy questions. Trudy stayed with them and Gloria stood on the fringe listening to what they were saying. 

The afternoon wore on and another round of margaritas wore on the women. The sun was low in the sky in late summer, but it was warm enough and the alcohol provided a special glow. 

"Jeannette's here!" one of the secretaries yelled out.

"Hello, everyone," Jeannette said in her low voice. "Sorry I'm late. I changed in the house." She walked across the veranda in her bathing suit, carrying her cover-up, and made her way to the pool. "The water looks wonderful." 

She walked slowly. At poolside Brenda, Ashley and Darlene ceased tittering among themselves and watched her approach. Except for Trudy, Jeannette was the tallest woman at the party, and lithe to a fault. She wore a simple white bikini, with no shoulder straps, that cast narrow, bright bands of fabric across her smooth, café skin. If she ever had an ounce of cellulite or telltale pound or two, it was long-gone. Her breasts were round and rightly sized for her frame. They held up the bikini top without effort.

The muscles of her legs flexed, just slightly, as she walked. It was like watching a cat walking; the slow gait conserving energy while anyone who saw her move knew that she could spring in an instant. The trio in the chaises smoothed their hands over their own legs in subconscious rechecking. 

Jeannette was neither ginning broadly nor frowning. Her face bore a serene expression. Jeannette slipped off her sandals, stretched her leg out to its fullest and dipped her foot into the water. She leisurely moved it back and forth a few times, and then turned and smiled pleasantly at the three, who had been watching her from behind their sunglasses.

"Mmmm; just right," she commented to them. She set her cover-up on a chair, climbed down the ladder and slowly entered the water and then pushed off the side of the pool. She glided unhurried to the far end and then turned and returned to her original place.

"I haven't seen Jeannette in a long time. I'll go over and say hello," Trudy said and made her way to the pool. As Trudy was walking through the pool gate Jeannette was climbing out of the water by the chrome ladder. Trudy extended her hand. "Jeannette, it's so nice..."

"I can see why Frank keeps Jeannette around," Ashley interrupted.

Trudy's smile disappeared and she stood facing Ashley with her hands on her hips. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Well you know," Ashley answered, not trying to hide her smirk. 

"I don't think I do," Trudy replied and clenched her teeth. "Why don't you explain it to me?" Ashley said nothing and Trudy didn't move. "I want an answer!" she demanded.

"It's okay, Trudy," Jeannette soothed in a low voice. She touched Trudy's arm at the elbow as a signal to come away. Trudy didn't move.

"I want an answer!" Trudy repeated. 

"Well... if it isn't obvious," Ashley giggled, "Jeannette is a version of you, only better. It looks like Frank likes his women tall and lean."

"Ah'll say!" Darlene agreed. She and Ashley looked at each other grinning. Next to them Brenda rolled her eyes and then buried her face in her hands. 

"I won't stand for that," Trudy spat back. "Take it back."

"It's okay, Trudy," Jeannette repeated to Trudy, still standing alongside her. "Let's go down to the veranda."

"It's not okay!" Trudy insisted. "Take it back, Ashley—and apologize to Jeannette."

"I won't," Ashley replied, not bothering to get up from her chaise. "Why should I apologize to..." She stopped herself and gave the two tall women a disgusted look.

Gloria hurried to the pool when she heard the disturbance. "Trudy, I'm sure whatever Ashley said was all in fun. Let's forget it."

"I want her to apologize," Trudy muttered.

Gloria glanced at Ashley who had remained seated and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I doubt if Ashley has said anything serious enough to have to apologize," Gloria said.

"Yes, she has," Trudy insisted in an angry voice.

"Trudy, really..." Gloria said in a frustrated tone.

"If that's the way it is, then I'm leaving," Trudy told her. She turned abruptly and headed for the house without saying a word. 

"I think I better go, too," Jeannette said, and followed Trudy to the house.

Gloria stood speechless by the pool. Ashley began laughing. "What's the big deal?" she asked to her two companions. "Touchy-touchy," she said as she laughed and shook her head. Brenda and Darlene had stopped laughing, looked at their silent mentor. 

Gloria said nothing. All pleasantness departed her face. She poured herself a drink and walked quickly inside the house.

************** 

After the scene at the pool, the party lost its ambience and the secretaries soon left. They would have thanked Gloria, but she wasn't to be found. Ashley and Darlene left right after the secretaries. Maddy stayed behind to take down the school exhibits and Brenda stayed, too. The caterers began working to pack their equipment. 

"Leave that behind," Brenda instructed them, referring to the punchbowl full of margaritas. She poured herself a big one and resumed her place by the pool, out of the way of the workers. She was pretty sure Gloria would come out to the pool when she was sure everyone had left. Soon, Maddy was done packing up and joined Brenda with a drink of her own in the chaise next to her where Ashley had been sitting.

True to form, Gloria appeared at the door leading from the house to the veranda when the coast was clear. Brenda saw her look out toward the pool and then fill a glass and walk slowly toward them.

"You're the only ones left?" Gloria said it like a question, but knew the answer already.

"It was a nice party, for a while," Brenda answered. 

"I knew Trudy would be trouble sooner or later," Gloria sighed. "You tried to warn me; I didn't listen." There were tears welling in Gloria's eyes. "I don't know what Ashley could have possibly said that would have set her off."

"It was an innuendo about Jeannette and Frank," Brenda said.

"That's all?" Gloria asked in disbelief. "It's probably true, anyway."

"Trudy looks at things differently than we do."

"No one walks out on me and gets away with it," Gloria declared. "I'll get even, I swear it. She ruined this party—and our chances at getting the secretaries to work for us."

"I don't know how you're going to get even. I doubt you'll see much of Trudy very soon," Brenda cautioned.

"I'll find a way," Gloria vowed. "No one walks out on me, my parties or my Foundation."

"I don't think it's worth worrying about," Maddy offered, but Gloria ignored her.

"I've already got an idea that will more than get even," Gloria went on, but Brenda thought she was talking more to herself than to her and Maddy.

"Maybe you will," Brenda conceded, "but nothing will happen today. Let's have a swim while we have some daylight left. We could use some cooling off."

"And some sobering up," Maddy added.

Gloria gulped down her drink and stepped to the pool. She sat on the side and slid into the water. She started to paddle away. Maddy jumped in behind her. Brenda was right after them. They swam to the far end of the pool and then swam back and rested in the deep end under the diving board. Gloria hung onto the side of the pool, catching her breath. 

"Ah, that was refreshing. Good idea, Bren." Gloria looked happier and refreshed.

Maddy swam up beside Gloria. She wasn't out of breath, but she remained at the side of the pool. 

"You know," Gloria said to Maddy, "Maybe Brenda and I could find a few young men for you to date. Would you like that?" 

"I'm not interested in having sex with men anymore," Maddy answered. With surprising boldness she thrust a hand under the water and clutched Gloria's sex. She threw the other hand around Gloria's shoulder and pulled the older woman to her. After she inserted her tongue deep inside Gloria's mouth she began to kiss her. 

Brenda looked on as Gloria's eyes opened wide in a startled expression. Her body looked rigid and stiff. As Maddy's foray became more insistent Gloria closed her eyes and relaxed. She let out a soft murmur of delight from deep in her throat.

"I already spoke to Maddy," Brenda explained as the kiss finally ended. "I thought we could relax you." Maddy raised her tee shirt to bare her breasts and placed Gloria's hand on one of them. She began kissing her again. "We better go in the mini-gym before someone sees us," Brenda warned.

The three of them climbed out of the pool. Once in the gym they dried themselves off. Brenda and Maddy began stripping Gloria.

"Just relax," Maddy whispered. "This is a special treat just for you." They pulled the stubborn fabric of the suit from Gloria's shoulders and then down her body. Gloria's eyes were closed all the time and she didn't speak. Once she was nude, the pleasurers kissed and squeezed her breasts and then her center. Gloria moaned at each sensual assault. 

"Let's get her over to the sofa," Brenda said to Maddy. "It's a fold-out." She threw the cushions off and pulled out the folding bed.

Gloria settled down on her back. Her eyes were still closed; her breathing was rapid. Maddy and Brenda pulled off their own suits. 

"Eat me!" Maddy commanded. She climbed onto the bed and straddled Gloria's face, looking out toward her feet. "We'll sixty-nine." She bent low and hugged Gloria's thighs and dipped her tongue into her cleft. "That's real good, Gloria," Maddy assured her as she pressed down. Gloria tilted up her hips to give Maddy better access

As Brenda watched them she dipped a finger inside herself. Gloria bucked like a wild animal under Maddy's practiced body. Brenda heard the muffled scream as Gloria's orgasm struck her. The younger woman straightened up, remaining atop Gloria's face. She was raising and lowering herself; the pleasure etched a surreal expression on her face.

"Hold up a minute while I put this on her," Brenda ordered. She had a waist harness onto which a long phallic-shaped dildo was fastened. She slid it over Gloria's knees. "Raise up Gloria, so I can get this around your waist," Brenda yelled loud enough for Gloria to hear as she lay under Maddy. Gloria bent her knees and planted her feet flat on the mattress and pushed up. Brenda slid the belt into place and fastened it. She poured a glob of lube onto her hand and coated the dildo. "I'll be right with you," she assured them.

She climbed onto the mattress and hovered over the erect tool, which pointed straight up from Gloria's center. She balanced herself with one hand and opened her lips with the other. She made a final calculation and sank directly down, implanting the silicone phallus all the way inside herself.

"Ahhh," she let out a moan of delight. Brenda had waited a long time to get out Gloria's harness. She could already feel the tension building. It wouldn't do to climax right away. She fought it off. A look into Maddy's face told her that she was eager to resume. 

Maddy reached out and grasped Brenda's breasts. She let her fingertips examine the nipples. "Nice," she sighed. Brenda reached out to Maddy and did the same and the two leaned forward and kissed.

The silicone object pressed her from inside out. Brenda rose up and then relaxed back down on it with her hands still clutching Maddy's breasts. Maddy nodded, and the next time Brenda rose up Maddy rose with her and they descended in unison. They found a working rhythm, never relinquishing their hold on the other.

"Let's try to come together," Maddy gasped as they drew close to the horizon.

************* 




The Brass Statuettes Ch. 11



When it was over the three of them lay nude together on the mattress. Gloria had removed the harness. Brenda was beside her. Maddy was on her stomach with her head resting on Gloria's stomach. With one hand, she reached across Brenda's closest thigh and diddled leisurely in Brenda's sex.

Gloria looked used and spent. A sheen of Maddy's fluid coated her face; to Brenda, she had a satisfied look. "Thanks, girls," Gloria said, almost in a whisper as she searched for the strength to push out her breath. "That's just what I needed."

"See, it turned out to be a swell party after all," Maddy quipped. "We'll have to get Trudy and Jeannette in on it next time. That would be perfect."

Brenda winced at the suggestion. "Trudy!" Gloria growled. as she gritted her teeth.

Brenda understood that Maddy had gone too far. "Gloria, relax. Maddy was just kidding." Maddy shrugged, and Brenda knew it was an excuse that lacked substance, so she was glad when Gloria didn't challenge her.

"The new Gloria died this afternoon," Gloria told them.

"Nonsense, Gloria," Brenda consoled her. "Alvin need never know; and besides, what we girls do for fun has nothing to do with him."

"That's not why," Gloria explained. "I crossed back over to the old Gloria this afternoon. I should have taken Trudy's side. I knew it then, but I couldn't because I didn't want to risk driving Ashley away. I drove Trudy away instead."

"Talk to Trudy," Brenda pleaded. "Maybe she'll understand."

"I should have tried harder; I know that now," Gloria whimpered. "I should have known it then. I could get another chance, but what would be the use? Sooner or later I'd use up all my chances—and, I'll be back to what I am now."

"You can be what you want to be," Brenda said. She'd listened to Gloria condemn herself to hopelessness; she couldn't accept it. She wondered if Gloria would oblige her to descend alongside her. Brenda fought with herself; the necessity of dealing with the morality would not dissolve as it usually did.

"No, I can't," Gloria answered in a languid sigh. "Some things are meant to be, and some aren't. Maybe if things had been different when I was young..." Gloria paused a second. Brenda thought she might retract the horrible verdict. "No, I should have known I could never do it," Gloria uttered in a weak voice. "I've spent too much time being the old Gloria. I'm stuck with her."

************** 

TO BE CONTINUED...

*

Dear Readers,

Thanks for reading. I hope you're enjoying the story so far. This chapter marks the half-way point of the story.

I'm always interested in your comments. If you have any thoughts about the story, please leave a comment, or send a message through the private message facility.

AW



The Brass Statuettes Ch. 12



Chapter 12 Pressure

Frank was careful not to hurt Floyd's feelings when he arrived at the office early on Monday morning, as he had done a few days before. Sometimes Frank got busy and forgot that it was easy to give a person the feeling he was getting the brush-off without intending to do so.

"Good morning, Floyd," Frank said, forcing out a little more enthusiasm than usual. "How are you doing this morning?" 

Floyd looked up at Frank from his desk; his face brightened. "I'm doin' very well, Mr. Bennett. Thanks for askin'." He arose from his chair; they walked side-by-side down the hallway where Floyd unlocked Frank's office door. "Coffee this mornin'?"

"You had to ask?" Frank shot back with a grin. "I came in extra early so I could take my time with it before Jeannette comes in." 

"Now you're pullin' my leg again," Floyd said, returning the grin. "One hot cup comin' up."

"Black, no sugar," Frank called after Floyd as he disappeared through the office door. 

"How else?" Floyd called back over his shoulder.

Floyd returned shortly with two cups. Frank was already checking his e-mail. "Do you ever get anything important on that machine, sir?" Floyd asked. 

"Yes, I do quite often, but not today. A lot of ads pile up over the weekend. Here's one for a seminar in Bermuda. Maybe I shouldn't delete that one." He glanced up at Floyd.

"Hah! I get it." Floyd gave himself a mock slap on the forehead. "Can't say as I blame you. You've had a lot of pressure lately."

"A little more than my fair share," Frank agreed.

"Miss Jeannette had me make out six security passes on Friday night. Who're they for?" Floyd asked.

"FBI agents," Frank answered. "They'll be here at about ten."

Floyd whistled. "FBI? What for?"

"They're going to investigate the manipulation of the Company Stock. They'll probably be here for a couple of days."

"Wow!" Floyd exclaimed. "Do you think they'll find anything?"

Frank shrugged. "I hope they do, but I wouldn't count on it. If someone was smart enough to cook up the scheme, they won't give it up just by chatting with the agents. The FBI will have to subpoena records."

"Do you think they'll want to ask me about my 'portfolio'?" Floyd asked and then broke out laughing. 

"Yes, if they ask you," Frank replied, but he didn't laugh.

Floyd stopped laughing when he saw that Frank was serious. He thought for a second and started chuckling again. "Well it won't take 'em long."

"Take care of them, if you wouldn't mind, Floyd. Make sure that they have an office to work in and anything else they might need."

"Yes, sir," Floyd replied, and turned to leave.

"But," Frank quickly added, "they can buy their own coffee."

************* 

Frank was hoping that Alvin would fill him in after the Finance Committee meeting broke up the prior week. Alvin's aloofness irritated him because he knew that it was his job on the carving block during Committee's secret talks. Frank believed that the Chairman owed him an explanation; he refused to insist on one. He gave up on receiving what he thought he deserved, and that made him a little bitter. He told himself to put it aside for the time being. Alvin knew where to find him if he changed his mind.

As he was thinking about his situation he heard Jeannette arrive to begin the day. He quickly tossed away Floyd's empty coffee cup. In a few minutes she appeared at the door with a fresh cup.

"Good morning, Jeannette."

"Good morning," she answered in her low, sultry voice. "I have your coffee." That soothing voice was her trademark and hearing it was one of the bright spots of Frank's day.

Trudy had given him an earful about what happened at Gloria's party. Although Frank regretted what had been said, the thought of Jeannette and him in the...oh well, it was only a fantasy.

Frank paused as she set the steaming cup in front of him on his desk. As she was about to turn to return to her desk he cleared his throat. "Jeannette, Trudy told me what happened at the party on Friday. I'm sorry."

Jeannette stood up straight and frowned. "Why are you apologizing for something you had nothing to do with?"

"Geez, I don't know, Jeannette. When I heard about it from Trudy, I just felt that I should. Now that you ask me like that, I can't answer."

"Is it because I'm a secretary and you're a boss," Jeannette asked, "and Mr. Smith's wife did it at Mr. Warner's house?"

"Something like that, I suppose," Frank answered.

"Why do you think you're responsible for what someone else did at someone else's house when you weren't even there? I hope you're not apologizing for Trudy."

Frank shook his head. "No, Jeanette. I hadn't thought about it that way before. I guess I'm just sorry that it happened to you. Just consider it one person to another."

"That sounds right to me," Jeannette replied. "Next time Mrs. Warner has a secretaries' party, maybe you can keep me overtime in the office even longer than you did on Friday."

Frank laughed. "Now you're talkin'. By the way, I'm expecting a call from Al Crossman this morning—very important."

"Mr. Crossman is in Reception. He's waiting to see you."

***************** 

Jeannette followed Al Crossman into the office with another coffee and set it on the table in the alcove of Frank's office.

"Hi Al," Frank stood and greeted his guest. "I thought you legal beagles didn't start working until a lot later in the day."

"Don't worry about us lawyers; you're on the clock," he snickered. "These are special times, Frank. ."

"Then, we better get down to business," Frank answered. He picked up his coffee cup and the two men walked to the chairs and coffee table at the side of the office and sat down.

"I came over to make sure you know how important these FBI interviews are," Crossman said. 

"I can't imagine what they're going to find.. "They can have access to whatever..."

"You've got to make sure that everyone cooperates," Al interrupted. "The Special Agent in Charge is out on a big limb on this case. He jumped in at my request before the SEC had a chance to assign investigators. He'll be in big dutch if it looks like they're going through the motions."

"I get it," Frank replied. "I'll make sure they come to me if they hit any roadblocks. I'm not sure what there is to find. I do believe that it was some insider who tanked the stock. I'm afraid that if someone was smart enough to devise the whole thing, they sure aren't going to cave because someone asks them a few pointed questions."

"Don't underestimate these guys," Crossman said. "Anyway, let me assure you that back in Washington, Nadine Persky is having a royal fit over this. All she needs is a sliver of doubt and she'll use it as an excuse to get the FBI shoved off the case and take over."

"We don't want that," Frank confirmed.

"You can bet you ass on that. She'll run the investigation out of Washington and they'll be on you like white on rice—according to their timetable. You'll come to think you're working for them and they won't quit until they get your scalp, and a few others, under their belt. So let's give the FBI all the help we can."

"I'm with you," Frank said.

"So, tell me," Crossman asked, "do you have any suspicions of your own?"

"I've been too busy to get deeply into it," Frank said. "I have some ideas of people who might have some motive. At this moment, it's pure speculation. Of course, money is at the bottom of it. There were a lot of profits taken on this one."

"Alvin told me you have a disgruntled vice-president," Crossman said. "What about him?"

"I don't know who you mean."

"Yes you do—the R & D guy," Crossman clarified.

"Lowell?" Frank asked. "I don't think so. It's true—he's having a hard time adjusting to corporate life. I don't think he has enough knowledge of the finance world to pull it off, and just between you and me—I don't think he's got the guts, either."

"Maybe so," Crossman replied, "but he's going to be a target for the time being. The FBI knows that he's been unhappy."

"Who told them that?" 

"I did," was Crossman's forthright reply. "Alvin and I went over the profiles of all the top management. When we got to Lowell I knew he was the perfect guy to suggest to the investigators."

I don't get it," Frank said.

"Because he's the nervous type; he'll be defensive and evasive when they question him. He'll look even more suspicious. It'll keep the investigation active and fresh. We can't let it look like it's running out of gas."

"But, Al..." Frank started to answer.

"My theory is that he passed the information to someone at his former university who knew what to do with it. Then, they split the profits."

"Where did that theory come from?" Frank demanded.

"I just made it up a minute ago when you told me that Lowell wouldn't know how to pull it off." Frank shook his head and Crossman drew a deep breath. "Look, he'll be cleared in due course. In the meantime, it'll give the investigation the energy it needs. Lowell's scalp is a big enough prize to keep 'em interested. Besides, maybe I'm right."

"This is dirty business," Frank protested. "I'm not sure Jason can stand up to it. We could send him over the edge."

"Maybe so; the name of the game is survival. He'll have to stand up to it, somehow. In the meantime, I'll be at a hearing in District Court this afternoon to try for an injunction to get that 10-Q released. The SEC is sending someone down to oppose it. I expect to get it, but I also expect the SEC to ask for a stay and file an appeal."

"One way to find out," Frank said. "I'd like to get that paper on the street so we can get on with things."

"That's the idea," Crossman agreed. "Be patient. We'll just wear 'em down 'til they see it our way."

*********** 

Special Agent Thad Henderson appeared in Frank's office, reminding him of a Marine Corps sergeant dressed in a civilian charcoal suit. He was about six-two. It was hard to tell the color of his hair because it was buzzed so close, and even though the crags on his face showed his fifty years, he looked ready to play split end for the Texans. 

"Care for a coffee?" Frank asked.

"No thanks," was the terse reply.

"I think that Floyd set you up with an office down the hall. You and your people can work out of there. There's telephone and internet access. It was my office when I was Corporate Controller."

"I saw it. It will be fine," Henderson answered. "We won't be here long."

"I asked Larry Fletcher to come in to see you. He's our Chief of Security. I don't know what he can tell you. Also, the employee list is being prepared as we speak. I'll need a subpoena from you before I can turn it over."

"Already expected that," Henderson grunted. "One of my men in on his way to a judge's chambers right now." 

"Jeannette is my secretary. She can help you arrange appointments and so forth if you would like her too. Feel free to ask her. She already expects you to call on her."       

"Thanks," Henderson said. "One guy I want to talk to is named Lowell."

"His office is on this floor," Frank told him. "I can take you there right now."

"No, I've got to make a few calls first. Can you tell him about eleven?"

"I'll have Jeannette arrange it."

It's not easy to walk and stand at attention at the same time, but Henderson looked like he had been used to doing so for years. As he left, Frank thought of Jason and what Al Crossman said. A voice deep inside him told him to call and prep Jason. He had nearly decided to when Jeannette interrupted him.

"He's quite a stern-looking fellow," she said. "He seems to know what he's about." 



"You probably could have used him at Gloria's party," Frank chuckled.

For what?" Jeannette was chuckling too. "To keep order amongst us rowdy females?"

"No, to keep Ashley busy. You know, idle mind—devil's workshop?"

"It may have been more like Ashley keeping him busy, from what I could see," Jeannette answered.

"Put away you claws, Jeannette," Frank said with a laugh. "They're a little too sharp for me."

************* 

Shortly after lunch Agent Henderson was standing in Frank's doorway. Frank wasn't surprised to see him. He expected him to bring the subpoena that would allow him to turn over the employee roster matched to social security numbers.

"Lowell stood me up," Henderson said in a voice that bore no expression.

"Are you sure?" Frank asked. "Could there have been a mix-up?"

"No mix-up," Henderson stated and a scowl washed over his face.

"There must have been," Frank insisted. "Jason must have gotten the time wrong."

He picked up his phone and waited for Jason's secretary to answer. "What a little jerk!" Frank thought secretly as Henderson stared at him. "He's playing right into Crossman's hands. I should help him, but if he can't help himself, what am I supposed to do?" 

Frank spoke to Jason's secretary and hung up the phone. "She said that Jason was called over to the research lab across town," he said to Henderson.

"Not even a kindergartner would believe that fairy tale!" Franksaid to himself.

"I see," Henderson grunted.

"His secretary's trying to reach him at the lab," Frank went on. "How about a cup of coffee?"

"No thanks," Henderson replied.

"These R&D types," Frank chuckled, shaking his head. "You know—the Absent-Minded Professor, and all."

Henderson didn't answer and stared straight at Frank.

"If you've got that subpoena, I can give you the personnel listing," Frank said, trying one more time to please. 

Henderson reached into his jacket pocket and thrust out a paper wrapped in a blue jacket.  "Is your name Frank Bennett?" he asked.

Frank looked at him for a second. "Yes," Frank sighed.

"Consider yourself served," Henderson announced as he put the blue package in Frank's hand.

"This isn't going to be good for Jason," Frank said to himself as he watched Henderson stride down the hallway with the computer printout under one arm.

************* 

As Henderson left Frank turned to Jeannette. "Call the lab. See if you can find Jason there."

Jeannette made the call. "According to the guards' station at the lab, he hasn't been there at all today."

"Give his cell phone a try, Jeannette. If he doesn't answer, keep trying. If he answers, page me. I think I'd better fill Alvin in on what's happening."

Frank walked down the hall to Alvin's office. "He's tied up in a meeting with our lobbyist right now," Doris told him. "You can wait if you would like to. It might be awhile."

"I suppose he doesn't want to be disturbed," Frank speculated. He'd slipped and let his sarcasm betray the frustration he felt, and that was the first step in lowering his guard. He felt it right away and reminded himself to keep things to himself. He'd let down too much that day already. It was fortunate that it was Doris who'd heard him. He had known her for years and considered her nearly as good as Jeannette.

"He said I could disturb him if the building was burning down," 

Doris said, which was a code phrase that meant was sympathetic, but powerless to help.

"Ask him to call me when he's able to. I need to inform him about something." He left the office shaking his head. "I'll be in my office."

"This is as crazy as I've ever seen it," he said to himself as he walked away. "A Senior Vice President is on the lam, even though he didn't do anything wrong. Our own lawyer set him up as cannon fodder for the FBI, but Jason doesn't know it; and the Chairman doesn't want to hear about it." 

Frank walked slowly down the wood-paneled hallway. "I wonder if we should turn one of these offices into a padded cell." Jeannette hadn't paged him, so it was a good bet the Jason was still among the missing. As he rounded the corner he saw Jeannette coming out of his office. "I was just about to page you," Jeannette said.

"You got Jason to answer his cell phone?"

"No," Jeannette answered, "Dr. Lowell is in your office. He came in a few minutes ago. He's very upset; I gave him a soft drink. He wants to talk to you."

"I'll talk to him alright," Frank said. "Where's he been for the past three hours?"

"He didn't say, but he's sure worried about something."

Frank turned and marched into his office. Jason was sitting in the guest chair in front of Frank's desk.

"Jason, what the hell is happening?"

"You think I'm guilty," Jason answered. "That's why you gave them my name."

"What?" Frank exclaimed, not quite believing what Jason had just said. "What kind of nonsense are you babbling?"

"They wouldn't be after me if they didn't think I did something," Jason said. Frank could see he was trembling. "I know you don't like me, so you gave them my name."

"Come off it, Jason. Where'd you get that idea? We're supposed to be professional, you know." Frank looked at Jason as he slouched down in the chair and stared out the window. His eyes were glistening. Frank wondered if he should offer him a drink. "Jason, how the hell did you get to be a vice president in a company like this?"

Jason didn't answer and Frank wasn't sure he'd heard the question. Jason turned his head and looked up at Frank. "You've got to help me out of this," he mumbled.

"Why the hell should I?" Frank thought.

"Jason, can I fix you a drink?" he asked. "You know—a little bracer to calm you down before you talk with them?"

"Talk to them?" Jason gasped. Frank stepped to his mini bar and poured out an inch of scotch and splashed some water in it. 

"Here—drink this. It'll make you feel better," Frank said as he handed Jason the glass. "Of course you have to talk to them. The longer you wait, the more they'll think that you're hiding something." 

Jason raised the glass to his mouth and poured the whiskey down in one gulp. "What do I say? How do I explain..." His voice was hoarse from the whiskey.

"Give them the 'nutty professor' excuse. Tell them something about a new polymer," Frank advised. "They won't believe you but it will give them an excuse to let you save face while they move on and ask you what they want to know. You haven't done anything, have you?"

"Then you didn't tell them..."

"Would you get off that, Jason? You're gonna have to pull yourself together." 

"What do I say to them?" Jason asked in a weak voice.

"How the hell do I know?" Frank raised his voice and then clenched his teeth. "I don't even know what they're going to ask you."

"Why me?" Jason whined. "These things always happen to me."

"You have nothing to hide. Tell them the truth," Frank said, "especially, if they ask you if you've done something stupid—make sure you answer 'yes' to that one." 

"I guess I've made a big mess of things," Jason said as he looked at the floor. 

Frank thought of a reply, but stifled it. "You better go now." Jason turned and shuffled toward the door. Frank called after him. "Take a couple of these," Frank offered as he held out a jar of peppermints from the corner of his desk. Jason gave him a quizzical look as he reached into the jar. "To cover up the whiskey on your breath," Frank said. He slapped Jason on the back. "Relax and it will be okay."

**************** 

Jason wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. Just as Frank said he should, he offered Agent Henderson the excuse of a mix-up and excitement about a new polymer at the lab across town. Somehow, when he said it the story didn't seem as plausible as when he heard it from Frank. Henderson only cleared his throat and narrowed his squint that he aimed at Jason.

"Mr. Lowell, you..."

"Actually, it's Dr. Lowell—just for the record of course." It was raw instinct for Jason to put his rank on the record. He regretted interrupting Henderson about it as soon as the words left his mouth. Then, it occurred to him that his title might lend some credibility to his excuse. He sensed right away that Henderson wasn't buying it. "Naturally, you can call me 'Jason'." Henderson's expression didn't change and Jason felt himself sinking ever deeper.




The Brass Statuettes Ch. 12



"Dr. Lowell, it's reported that you're unhappy in your position."

"No—no," Jason said. He wondered how anyone might know that. He'd only spouted off to Frank and Alvin—and Darlene, but she'd never say anything. "Well, yes—but not the way you mean," he corrected himself.

"How do you know what I mean?" Henderson shot back.

"I don't really know," Jason admitted. "I just meant that I want the funding I was promised."

"Funding?" Henderson asked. "Someone promised you money?"

"Not exactly—not to me," Jason stammered. He just couldn't put the right words together. "You know, it all had to do with the stock."

Henderson sat back and nodded slightly. He opened his suit jacket and rubbed his index finger over the top of the set of handcuffs that were mounted on his belt. Jason saw him do it; fear coursed through him.

Jason wasn't listening to Henderson, but thinking his own thoughts. "What can I tell this guy that will get him off my back? He really thinks I'm guilty." He thought of Darlene, unsuspecting at home. She would be so displeased if he were arrested—possibly beyond the point of no return. She might even leave him. "I've got to think of something. Damn that Frank! He set this guy on me." 

"And you were at that meeting, so you knew all about the stock registration being shelved." It was Henderson speaking to him. Jason tried to force himself to stop thinking of Darlene. He wondered if he had been in bed with her, and her flawless body, for the last time. If he got into trouble, it was for sure that she would leave him. "Dr. Lowell?" In one ear Jason heard Henderson trying to get his attention. He loosened his tie.

"Huh?" Jason grunted. He peered at Henderson waiting for his answer. He wondered if he had heard the whole question.

"Wasn't that true?" Henderson repeated.

"You know," Jason said as though he had actually just discovered the new polymer, "there's another person who knows everything and you seem to have forgotten him."

"Oh yeah? Who's that?" 

"An accounting guy," Jason answered. "One of Frank's people; a guy by the name of Fish-something—Aaron Fishberg, I think. You should ask Frank about him. He was using the office that you guys are in now. Frank let him; now he's moved back downstairs."


"Why—what's with him?" Henderson asked.

"You know," Jason said, being as patronizing as he dared. 

"No, I don't," Henderson replied.

"Those people always think about stocks, money, that sort of thing. They have a knack for it." Jason held up his hands and rubbed the pads of his thumbs over his fingertips. It was the code; he assumed Henderson would finally get it. 

"You mean because of his accounting knowledge?" Henderson asked.

"Well, yes that," Jason conceded. "And there's the obvious."

"I'm not getting your meaning," Henderson said.

"Besides, he had all the information on the forecast. Frank put him in charge of compiling it."

"Now you've said something interesting," Henderson told him. "We'll talk to him." He thrust his hand into his briefcase and pulled out a sheet of paper. He set it on the desk and shoved it in Jason's direction. "I'd like you to sign this," Henderson said. "It's a release; it allows us to look at your financial records without a warrant."

Jason looked at the paper lying on the desk before him. He hesitated to pick it up. ""I suppose so," he said. "After all, I have nothing to hide. He picked up the single sheet, held it in one hand as he took a pen from the holder on this desk. He grimaced. 

"Is there a question about it?" Henderson asked.

"I'm just wondering if my lawyer should see it first."

"That's your right, of course," Henderson said. "Are you saying you want your lawyer?"

"I know it's a formality," Jason said. "I just think..."

"If you want your lawyer present, all questioning stops as of right now." Henderson snatched the release form from Jason's hand. "We'll be in touch, Dr. Lowell. Probably the FBI office downtown would be a better place for our next meeting. You can have your lawyer with you."

All at once Henderson stood and walked out of Jason's office.

"Wait! I changed my mind. I'll sign," Jason called after him. It was too late; Henderson kept walking as though he didn't hear him—and then he was gone.

***************** 

After Henderson's departure Jason called his attorney. He wasn't in, so he left a voice-mail. Alone behind his desk, he tried to deal with the day's events.

"I think Frank set me up. It didn't seem that way when I was in his office. If it wasn't him, who was it? Maybe I should have signed that release. But what if I had?"

It was all so confusing. He reminded himself that he had no guilt in the matter. "But there are other things. Maybe it's all catching up with me." He shook his head, reminded himself that he had to stop thinking like that.

"At least, I set Henderson on to the little Jew from downstairs." He set about convincing himself of the propriety of the bad deed. Of the strategic deftness of the move, Jason had no doubt. It may, or may not have been true that Aaron was involved. It would be best to put him to the test. "He might confess if they squeeze him hard enough." At best case, Henderson would forget all about Jason and that was the most important thing; at worst, the little beancounter would think twice if he ever thought of pulling something sneaky. And, as Jason knew, all of them were thinking of sneaky things all the time.

"I'm too upset to work any more today. I'm going home." He thought of Darlene, who would be there. He thought of her in the nude, as he always did when he was upset and need of what only Darlene could give him. It was a soothing sight in his mind's eye and lifted his spirits because it reminded him of who he was.

He thought about how the encounter with Henderson had threatened what he had with Darlene; it was the ultimate justification of what he'd done. It was defending what he cherished most of all the good things that had come to him in his rise to the top of the pyramid. More than power or wealth, or the satisfaction of accomplishment, it was his right to go home and lie between those beauty queen thighs; to bury his face in her perfect breasts; to ask for anything he wanted, whenever he wanted to. She was second to none, if somewhat demanding at times; it almost made this corporate life bearable.  

She would be surprised to see him. Maybe some of her special consoling would be just the perfect thing to hit the spot before dinner. Perhaps they wouldn't even bother with dinner. Then, it would be up to her to do what she had to do.

************* 

TO BE CONTINUED

Dear Readers,

Thank you for reading my story. I always welcome your comments, suggestions and questions, either through the Public comments Section, or private mail.

Good reading and best regards,

AW



The Brass Statuettes Ch. 13



Chapter 13: Expendable

Frank hung up the telephone. He'd been discussing his plan for putting together the new financing package with the Company's investment banker in New York. 

The intercom buzzed. "Agent Henderson would like to see you," Jeannette announced over the speaker.

Henderson walked into Frank's office with the employee roster in hand. "Do you have a guy named Fishberg working here? I don't see him on the printout."

"It's Fishman," Frank answered. "He's a Financial Analyst; he works on the sixth floor."

"Whatever his name is, I've got to talk to him."

"Since you called him 'Fishberg' I'm sure that you got his name from Jason Lowell," Frank said. "Aaron's small potatoes—only a few years out of school. He may not even be thirty years old."

"Lowell tried to use him to bait 'n' switch me and figured I'd bite because the guy is Jewish," Henderson said. "I didn't like it much, but the fact is I've got to talk to him. From what I hear, he's the one who put the forecast together and that makes him privy to inside information. I can't let that slide."

"I can't deny that," Frank admitted. "I'll have Jeannette call him upstairs. Do you want him to meet you in the Controller's Office?"

"Yes, but don't tell him what it's about," Henderson asked. "It shouldn't take long." 

Frank flipped the switch on the intercom. "Jeannette, would you find Aaron Fishman and ask him to come up to the Controller's Office right away, please? Don't tell him what it's about; tell him he'll be filled in when he gets there."

"Thanks," Henderson said. "Like I said, it should be a quick interview."

"Don't be surprised if he's already figured out the subject," Frank said. "Secrets are hard to keep around here. By the way, how did it go with Jason Lowell?"

"Can't talk about that," Henderson said.

"I should have figured that." Frank looked at his watch. "Can I help you with anything else? If not, I have a meeting with Mr. Warner."

***************** 

It was late in the afternoon. Alvin poured Frank a scotch and himself a bourbon from his private stock. 

"I don't usually drink at the office," Frank said. "I'll make an exception today."

"Bad day?" Alvin asked. "Does it have anything to do with the FBI guys running around here?"

"Mostly," Frank answered.

"Fill me in—but after we meet with Al Crossman. He's on his way up right now. He says he has news about the hearing for the injunction."

"It must be good news if he came all the way over here to deliver it," Frank said.

Before Alvin could answer, his secretary came on the intercom to let them know that Al Crossman was waiting outside. "Tell him to come on in," Alvin said to the speaker on his desk. "He knows the way by now." Al Crossman walked through the door and Alvin got up and walked to his minibar. He clinked some ice cubes into a glass. "What're you drinkin', Al? Frank and I started without you."

"Jack on the rocks," Crossman answered. He reached out his hand and took the glass of whiskey from Alvin as he made his way to a chair in front of Alvin's the desk. "There's good news and bad news," he uttered as he sank into a chair.

"Give us the good news first," Frank sighed.

"They kind of go together," Al replied, "so I'll give it to you all at once—the molasses mixed with the sulfur." He took a swallow of the whiskey and then took a deep breath before he started. "We got the injunction from a Federal Magistrate."

"That's great news," Alvin said in a buoyant voice.

"Not so fast," Crossman cautioned. "As soon as the injunction was signed the SEC attorneys went upstairs and got a stay from the District Judge. It's a temporary stay to give them time to appeal."

"So, we're back where we started," Frank said. 

"Not exactly," Crossman said. "The other side's on defense now. They have to convince the District Judge to overturn something that's already done. I don't think they can. It's Judge Stenson. I believe he'll rule for us."

"When?" Frank asked.

"A week from today. Of course, the SEC could take it higher if things go our way."

"What's the chance of that?" Alvin asked.

"It's hard to say," Crossman replied. "It depends on how Stenson words his ruling—if they think he's left them an opening."

"That's assuming Judge Stenson rules for..." Frank began to say.

"Of course," Al interrupted. He took another swallow of his drink. "How's it going with the FBI?"

"Alright, I guess," Frank answered.

"Let me tell you, Henderson is their best. He's not about to whitewash anything. I only asked them in to keep the SEC out."

"He looks tough, that's for sure," Frank acknowledged. 

"That, he is," Crossman confirmed. "He won't look favorably on any funny stuff—so make sure he doesn't get any."

"Too late for that," Frank said.

"What?" Alvin gasped.

"Jason was scheduled to be interviewed by the Feds late this morning. He took a powder instead of showing up."

"You're kidding!" Crossman exclaimed.

"Goddam that guy!" Alvin uttered. "Is that what you were trying to get to me about while I was meeting with Rigby?"

"That's it," Frank said.

"Where in hell is he now?" Crossman asked.

"I found him at about two o'clock. He snuck upstairs and Jeannette let him into my office. I convinced him to find Henderson and talk to him. I don't know where he is now."

"You didn't see him afterwards? He didn't say how it went?"

"Henderson came in to see me and told me that Jason tried to finger Aaron Fishman." 

"Who's Fishman?" Crossman asked.

"Yeah, who is he?" Alvin repeated.

"He's the young guy from downstairs who helped us put the forecast together," Frank reminded them. "We needed some extra help because we haven't hired a Controller yet."

"I see," Crossman nodded. "What's more important, why did Lowell do a disappearing act. What's he afraid of?"

"Damned if I know," Frank answered. "He's not an easy guy to figure out." 

"Could he have been in on anything?" Crossman asked.

"Anything's possible, but I doubt it," Frank said. "It wouldn't add up. Jason isn't that smart, except when it comes to chemical formulas; and he hasn't got the guts for it either. We discussed it this morning—my opinion is still the same."

"Greed can make people do strange things," Crossman said.

"Right," Frank acknowledged, "but Jason's earning many times more than what he ever made as an Engineering Prof—even as Dean of the Engineering School." Frank shook his head. "He's too dumb, too scared and he's got more money right now than he ever thought he'd have."

"We'll have to keep an eye on him," Alvin declared.

"Right," Crossman agreed. "He didn't run from Henderson for no reason at all."

"I think that he just wasn't thinking right," Frank insisted. "These R&D types are all a little goofy."

"And what about this Fishman?" Crossman demanded.

"I have to admit that it's legit for Henderson to interview him. He was in on every step of the forecast. He knows as much as we do about what's in it—probably more."

"You think he's clean?" Alvin asked.

"Sure," Frank said. "I have no reason to suspect..."

"It would be nice if he isn't," Crossman thought out loud. "That would mean that Jason is clean, after all."

"I see what you mean," Alvin said, rubbing his chin.

"I don't get it," Frank admitted. "Why should we want either of them..."

"We don't," Alvin said, "but if it has to be one of them..."

Crossman turned to Frank. "I'm sure that I don't have to tell you. After the beating your stock has taken on Wall Street, if your head of R&D is implicated..." Crossman paused and finished the whiskey in his glass. "There'd be hell to pay."

"We'd be taken over, for sure," Alvin said.

Crossman and Alvin stood and went to the bar to pour themselves another drink. Frank looked them, but the two older men looked away.

"What are you saying?" Frank asked.

"Just what I said," Alvin answered. "If Jason's implicated in some kind of bad deal Wall Street will assume the Company's falling apart. It would be a disaster."

"You'd be easy pickin's for a takeover firm," Crossman added. "It wouldn't be pretty."

Alvin handed Frank a fresh glass of whiskey. Frank set down his old glass and took a gulp of the stronger replacement. "I think Jason will be cleared in the end. I told you what I think happened."

"What if he's not?" Alvin challenged. "Are you willing to take that chance?"

"If he did do something, there's nothing we can do to turn back the clock," Frank argued.

"We need a replacement," Crossman said. Frank looked at Alvin, who was looking at Crossman and nodding in agreement. "We need to feed them someone so they take the pressure off Lowell."

"To take the pressure off all of us," Alvin added.

Frank took another gulp of his whiskey. He lowered his glass and looked at the two men who were looking at him. It gave him an uneasy feeling. "Al, it was just this morning you told me you hung Jason out to dry. Now you want to protect him. What gives here?"

"We've got to be nimble," Crossman retorted. "The situation's changing; we've got to change with it. I think we've got a better alternative available to us at this moment."

"You want to give them Aaron Fishman, don't you?" Frank said. Alvin looked down at the plush carpet below his feet. Crossman took a deep breath, but then stopped short as he was about to speak. Each of them took another pull on their whiskey. Frank waited for them to finish and then he spoke. "Aaron isn't guilty of anything. He was only doing his job—the job I asked him to do." 

"It's hardball, Frank—I know." Crossman said. "It's survival, too, and it's the logical thing to do. Sometimes the logical thing is what takes the most guts to pull off."

"Don't lecture me about hardball," Frank answered back. "I've thrown 'em—and I've caught a few, too. There's a time for it; and there are other times when it's not called for."

"This is no time for Mr. Nice Guy," Alvin warned. It's sure that someone's guilty. If it was Fishman, we could cut our losses."

"And get this whole thing over sooner and not later," Crossman added. 

"This is crazy," Frank protested. "I've been with this company a long time. We've had tough times, but we've never..."

"I don't like it, either," Alvin said to Frank, raising his voice. "I don't like having to choose. It's not between the Fishman and Jason. It's between Fishman and all the shareholders. They'll get crucified in a takeover—pennies on the dollar."

"We're not saying that we want him convicted of anything," Crossman said, "or even arrested. We just want the Feds to focus on him instead of Lowell."

"That would give us time," Alvin explained. "We can bring in someone more senior over Jason. We'll call him Chief Technology Officer, or something like that. After the new guy's in place, well shoehorn Jason out."

"We can't start feeding innocent employees to the FBI just to keep them busy. Pretty soon everyone will be watching their back instead of doing their jobs—from every vice-president right down to the janitors," Frank warned. "And, I don't think Henderson will buy it, anyway."

"They'll get over it," Crossman said as he looked out the window.

"So you knew about this before I came in," Frank said. "You've got it all figured out."

"We didn't know about his latest caper, but Jason's been on the radar screen for a while. This latest thing is more an opportunity than a threat."

"You can do it without pulling down Aaron Fishman," Frank insisted.

"Not now, if Lowell's under suspicion. It would be too obvious," Crossman explained. "We've got to do this right."

"Look Frank, I admire you wanting to protect your people," Alvin said. "Don't worry, we'll take care of him. A nice severance package, outplacement; we could get Jim Sweeney to get him a job at his former oil company down the street."

"He may even thank us when it's all done," Crossman mused. "He'll fall on his sword for the Company and come out looking golden, too. We'll call it the 'Golden Sword'.

"Thank us?" Frank shot back. "We say, 'Aaron, we're trashing your reputation. Here's some money--now go away'."

"C'mon Frank, you're not on the team here," Alvin said.

Frank didn't answer. He saw the two men looking at him expecting an answer. He set his drink on the coffee table and buried his face in his hands.

"There are directors who wanted you out, but you're still here," Alvin said. "You could have been out—you're still here. One hand washes the other."

Frank looked up at Alvin who was standing over him. "At least, let's see if Jason's in trouble or not."

"And then..." Alvin started to say.

"We can wait until then," Crossman said quickly before Frank could answer. "No need to pressure Frank about this now. He'll do the right thing if he has to."

Frank slowly exhaled and stood up. Alvin slapped him on the back and then put his arm around his shoulder. "Fix yourself another," Alvin said, motioning Frank to the bar.

"Thanks, just the same," Frank answered. "I'm past my limit already."

************* 

When Jason arrived at his house, he expected Darlene to meet him at the door. She didn't and he was disappointed. "Where could she be? I was sure that she'd be home." He set out to find her. Perhaps she had a late errand to run. He decided to go upstairs and change his clothes. At the top of the stairs he heard the muffled sound of the radio and it seemed to be coming from their bedroom.

"Darlene, Darlene," he called out. "Are you up here?" He waited a few seconds for a response. He'd nearly given up when he heard her reply.

"Jason!" she yelled back. "What are you doin' home at this hour? Ah'm busy; Ah'm takin' a bath."

A smile lit up Jason's face. "Half-way home." He walked slowly—so as not to seem in a hurry—to the bathroom door. He stopped before going in, wondering whether to announce himself first. He thought not, and slowly opened the door. 

He walked into the bathroom without fanfare, stopping at the counter to turn off the radio. The air was warm and moist, laced with a perfume scent. Darlene sat in the tub beneath a pool of steaming water and a mountain of suds. "Aren't you going to invite me in?" he asked. He slipped off his suit jacket and hung it on the hook on the door.

It was just as he pictured her. A glass of white wine rested on the ledge of the tub. Beads of condensation rolled off the glass as proof of the coldness inside it. As he approached the tub she sank lower into the suds, although not low enough to get her hair wet. The foam rose up around her collar bone. Jason could only see the outlines of her breasts; at least, he could see more in his mind's eye. By sinking down, her bent knees crested the surface of the water. Spare suds dripped off them and they glistened. Her legs looked slippery. It made Jason think of another slippery part of her. He would find it if he could only start his hands on those glistening thighs and follow wherever they led him. He loosened his tie. "Aren't you going to invite me in?" he repeated, only this time more demanding than the first time. At least that's the way he'd intended it to sound.

"Ah asked you first, Jason," she replied, not moving from her protective layer of bubbles. "What are you doin' home at this hour? Ah wasn't expectin' you home until at least six."

"I...I kind of...I decided to call it an early day."

"Early day?" she asked 

Jason winced a little. He should have covered that base during the drive home. He should have been ready for that question. "I thought we could have some extra time together, Darlene." He started unbuttoning his shirt. "It looks like I was right." He pried a foot out of his shoe.

"Jason! You know this is mah private time o' day," she protested. The cheeks on her face were getting red, in contrast with the white mass of suds. It was an interesting coloration, but it made Jason's hopes sink because he knew she was angry.

"Oh, c'mon, Darlene. What would be the harm?" He looked down, his mouth formed into a pout. He scuffed at the tile floor with his remaining shod foot. Pouting almost always worked. It ignited her motherly instincts. If pouting didn't work, he'd have to give up.

"Ah should be mad," Darlene lectured from her snowy lair. She leaned forward and the mountain of suds started to move away from her. He was sure that she intended it to happen in order to afford him an advance peek at the prize. But as her perfect breasts were about to be arise from the water she leaned back and all stopped. She must have seen the disappointment on his face. 

"Well, alraht," she said. "The water was gettin' cold, anyway. Go in the bedroom and get ready. Ah'll be in as son as Ah'm dried off 'n' Ah powder mahself."

"Oh boy! I love it when she powders herself," Jason said to himself. He plucked his jacket from the hook on the door and hurried out of the bathroom. It was very special—the way the scented powder cast an aroma on her. When she put the powder on a man could slide up and down her smooth body. "Like she was oiled, but still dry."

He cast off his clothes and threw them on a nearby chair. "Don't forget to hang up your suit," she yelled out from the bathroom. "Don't just throw it on the chair." He obeyed. He would do anything she demanded in return for this one favor.

He took off all his clothes except his briefs. He wondered if they should go, too. Perhaps he should let Darlene peel them off, but he decided to shed the last garment, too. He hoped the sight of his erection would excite her. He peeled back the covers of the bed and lay down and waited for her. 

At long last he saw her slow promenade from the bathroom. It had taken her a lot longer than Jason expected. She wore her lavender, silk robe with purple and yellow orchids painted on it. It was a gift from a Chinese exchange professor during their University years.

"Happier times," Jason uttered silently. He was certain that she was nude underneath. The silk fabric caressed her as she swayed into Jason's view. It made Jason think about what his own hands might do as soon as she came closer. Through the silken orchids he imagined that he could see her: breasts, thighs and golden thatch of womanhood, all soft and smooth, dry but slippery and moving toward him full of promise. It seemed like she walked more slowly to their bed than she ever had.

Jason licked his lips as she approached. He had left himself uncovered—an unusual move for a rare occasion. It was sex in the afternoon, itself unusual. His penis bobbed as his anticipation grew. It felt cool, so he knew that telltale droplets had escaped from it. She sat down on the edge of the bed. Jason reached his hand out, thinking to slide the robe down slowly to reveal her shoulders. She took his hands in hers and softly laid them back on his chest.

"Not yet," she whispered, "not until Jason tells Mommy what happened at the office today that made him come home so early."

The sun was low in the sky and shone through their bedroom window at an oblique angle. The shaft of light captured her, blotting out her fine features. All he could see was her outline. The whispered words came from her statue-like form, as he might have heard them from a Greek oracle.

"It was nothing, Darlene," he lied.

"Ah know better," she answered in a soft voice. "Don't Ah always know better, Jason?"

"Really, Darlene; it was nothing."

Darlene didn't ask again. She remained sitting on the edge of the bed alongside him. She formed a circle with her thumb and index finger and slid it tenderly over his erection. She eased it down the whole length. 

"You are—so—excited." 

Jason gasped at the pleasure, and the expectation of pleasure. Darlene let go of him. She caressed herself through the silk robe with her fingertips. Jason watched her.

"Ah can't wait for you t' take this robe off me," she breathed. Jason reached up to do her bidding. She stopped him again. "All you hafta do is tell Mommy an' it's all yours, darlin'."




The Brass Statuettes Ch. 13



Jason sighed in frustration. She had him; she knew it and so did he. Self-denial was impossible. Were she to bare all, so must he. "I was questioned by the FBI about the Company stock fraud."

Darlene gasped. "Why would they ever question you?"

"I think Frank Bennett set them on me," Jason said. "He doesn't like me, you know."

"That's just nonsense, Jason," Darlene countered. "He's jus' like his wife—straight-laced as a Baptist preacher in a revival tent in July. With him, it's nuthin' but business."

"Well, why else..." Jason started to say.

"What'd they ask you?"

"Not much," Jason answered. "They wanted me to sign something to let them see our records at the stockbroker and I said that I wanted a lawyer first. Then the agent left."

"Oh, Jason," Darlene shrieked, "how could you? Now they'll nevah stop. Why would you do that? You have nuthin' t' hide."

Well..."

"What?" Darlene yelled even louder, her eyes wide.

"I was afraid they'd see the time I sold the Pro-Tech stock when we were at the University. I might have exaggerated the cost on our tax return."

Darlene buried her face in her hands. "Jason, do you really think they give a damn about that?"

"I didn't exaggerate it; I made it up. The stock was a gift from Pro-Tech for the research I did for them. It didn't have any cost at all." Jason paused as Darlene looked at him. "It was to save on taxes."

"But, Jason," Darlene said, "they aren't interested in that. The Western stock deal was for millions; that was pennies."

"I sold the Pro-Tech for five hundred thousand," Jason protested. He paused to think about what he had just said. "I guess I panicked. They're going to get to see the papers, anyway."

Darlene had her face in her hands again. She mumbled something at him that he couldn't understand. "I wish we were back at the University again," he told her. 

Darlene sat up straight. "Oh no! Not that again," she fired back. She stood up from the bed, anger in her eyes; she pointed a finger at him from a long, slender arm that she thrust out from the silken robe. "Ah tol' you—Ah'll nevah go back there. You promised!"

"Would it be so bad, Darlene? The money would be a lot less, but it would be enough. We would have a lot more time together."

"Ah tol' you!" Darlene shouted again.

"I got a call the other day. Ferrin Whitttier called me. He's President of a University in Upstate New York. They're searching for a Dean of their Engineering School."

"No!" Darlene screamed. "No—nevah. Ah couldn't stand it. You got to make it right here at Western."

Jason felt pathetic lying naked on their bed. Darlene was still in her robe, standing over him, looking angrier than he'd ever seen her. His idea of late-afternoon sex was degraded to a humiliating pipedream. Darlene was panting after her tirade; she finally calmed down.

"Ah see that you're somewhat less excited than you were a few minutes ago," she announced in her most haughty way as she looked down at his flaccid penis. Her hands were mounted on her hips. He was about to tell her that he would recover, to just stay with him. She had already turned and was marching back to the bathroom. 

"It's just as well," she declared as she walked away from their bed where he lay. "Ah was nevah very excited, mahself—raht from the start." She halted and dropped the silk, lavender robe to the floor as she reached the bathroom door. The robe pooled at her feet and Jason saw the back of her. It was as perfect as the front. He rose up to call to her—to beg her to come back to their bed as she was, without the robe. He would promise her that they would never leave their adopted life. He could not, and she stepped through the open door and disappeared behind it.

************ 

Frank had called Trudy from the office to let her know that he would be late. She saved dinner for him in the oven. When he finally walked through the door she noticed he wasn't carrying his briefcase. She was glad because it meant he wouldn't be working that evening—catching up and reading what there had been no time to read in the office. He was nearly always tired after a day at the office. He was different than usual, though, and that always set her on alert.

"How was your day?" she asked as he shuffled into the kitchen. Frank grunted something that Trudy didn't quite make out, but she wouldn't ask Frank to repeat what he'd said. "I saved dinner for you; it's in the oven. Do you want to change your clothes first? You can sit down right now and change later, if you'd rather."

Frank stopped in his tracks, pondering the question. The lines worn into his face and his inability to decide on something so simple told Trudy how weary he was. "Do you mind if I skip dinner tonight?" he asked, and turned and headed for the stairs. Trudy grimaced and said nothing as he walked out of view. She put the food away and turned off the oven. The task took a couple of minutes and then she followed him upstairs.

"I thought I'd put my bathing suit on and sit by the pool for awhile," she said as she began unbuttoning her blouse. The blazing hot evenings of mid summer had passed, but it was still warm enough to sit by the pool. Frank hadn't yet finished changing. He'd hung up his suit, but was still in his underwear. "Why don't you join me?" she suggested as she kicked off her shoes. 

"I dunno, Trudy. I'm whipped. I might just read a while. Where're the girls?"

"Out," Trudy answered. "Patricia went to a movie with 'you-know-who'. Margaret got invited to Jenny's house to listen to music."

"Jenny's parents home?" 

Trudy smiled at the question. Good old Frank—ever vigilant, even in his weary state. "Yes, I made sure before she left. They'll both be home around twelve." She slipped off her blouse and unbuttoned her shorts. She paused before she slipped them down and stole a glance at Frank to see if he was watching her. She couldn't quite tell, so she pushed the shorts down all at once. She stood in front of her dresser in her bra and panties. Frank hadn't said much, but she also noticed that he could have finished changing, but didn't. She pulled open a dresser drawer to find a bathing suit. 

"Why don't you come out to the pool, too?" she re-issued the invitation. She pulled out a two-piece suit. It was her skimpiest one; she hadn't worn it in a couple of years. She quickly turned toward Frank to give him an eyeful as she slipped off her bra. Then she stepped out of her panties. "We won't have many pool nights left in the season." 

She pulled on the bikini bottoms. She gave him a look as she lifted the top but paused before covering her breasts. "He must feel down. He'd never let me get my suit on once I had my clothes off," she observed in a silent thought.

She dipped her breasts into the cups and walked over to him. "Can you fasten the back, Frank?" she asked. Frank did as she asked. "He's a hard case tonight, but I'm not done yet," she thought. 

"I think I will join you," Frank conceded. 

"Good!" she replied. She would have normally put a tee-shirt on to cover up until she got to the pool. This time, she decided to forego it. She swayed from the bedroom with only a towel to protect her. Bring us a couple of cold beers when you come out," she called to him over her shoulder.

It didn't take Frank long to catch up to her and take a chair alongside hers near the pool. "Need a glass?" he asked her. She shook her head and he twisted the cap from an amber bottle and handed it to her, and then one for himself.

"I think you're whipped," she admitted. "You've got that tired look." Frank shrugged and they both took healthy gulps of the cold beer. "Anything you want to tell me about?"

Frank took another swallow and then sighed. He leaned back in his chair. "You know, Trudy," he began, "I don't mind working hard. I don't even care if the going gets a little tough. I can take all that."

"No doubt about it," she agreed.

"When I'm not sure why I'm doin' it the fight gets drained out of me."

"You don't say things like that very often, Frank."

"Sometimes, Trudy, I wish I was back in the CPA business doing debits and credits for mom 'n' pop stores."

"Sometimes I wish it, too," Trudy answered. "We both know it's not going to happen; that's not what you were meant to do. You know that even better than me."

"Let's just say that today some people acted in a way that was very disappointing," he answered. 

"It happens. You can handle it. Like you always say, 'keep the big picture in mind'."

"Right, the big picture," he sighed and took another swig from his bottle.

"Something terrible must've happened," Trudy repeated. "You hardly ever get like this."

"Well, the first thing was that our celebrated VP of R&D went on the run when he was supposed to be interviewed by the FBI this morning."

"What? You're kidding!" Trudy laughed. "Does anyone know where he is?"

"He showed up later and told them 'he forgot'," Frank said. "But that's not the worst of it. He told the FBI agent that he thought Aaron Fishman had something to do with the stock manipulation."

Trudy sensed anger in Frank's voice. She leaned forward, determined to pay closer attention. She hardly knew who Aaron Fishman was; she vaguely recalled being introduced at some company function or another. She understood why he was angry. Frank was never afraid of battle; combat with someone unable to fight back was taboo. "Why would Jason pick on someone like that?"

"I think part of it was that he panicked and threw out a name to take pressure off himself. The other part of it is that he's resented Jason ever since I brought him upstairs to help me on the forecast. He's got it in for him 'cause he's Jewish."

"Oh no, Frank," Trudy exclaimed. "You're not going to let that happen, are you? I know you would never let that happen."

"I already spoke to the agent and he told me he wasn't buying it. They have to talk to Aaron, anyway. He was in on all the details of the forecast."

"That Jason is a worm," Trudy said.

"Yeah, I knew that already. That's not the big problem. Guys like Jason are here today and gone tomorrow. What really got to me was that I told Alvin and Al Crossman about it. They want me to let Aaron take the fall to protect Jason. They're afraid if there's a scandal involving a corporate officer the company's stock will collapse."

"I can see why you're disappointed, Frank. I would be, too."

"It's me who I'm disappointed in," Frank corrected. "I should have told them to go to hell. Instead, I just argued with them. They still think they're gonna hang it on Aaron."

"I know you too well, Frank. You would never let them do that." 

"I'm trapped, Trudy. If I walk out they'd get someone else to do it for them."

"You'll figure it out, Frank. You always do. It'll get tough—that's when you're at your best. You've done it so many times before." 

"I should have reminded them that the stock will collapse with a resignation of the CFO. I should have said that, but I'd have been bluffing. I never bluff. I always thought that Alvin was above this kind of thing."

"Don't be too hard on him," Trudy said. "He has a lot on his mind. He's got to deal with Gloria, for one thing. He'll think it over and see it differently—you'll see."

"That's no excuse," Frank replied. "When you take on a job that big, you're expected to be a big person. You know, he tried to tell me that I owed it to him to feed Aaron to the wolves because he saved me from getting canned by Mueller and Lambert."

"Don't give up on him," Trudy said again. "He'll come around." They stopped talking for a minute and drank the last of their beer. "I will hang in there, Trudy. I'll do it because of you—because I know you expect me to."

Trudy took Frank's hand into her own. She leaned close to him. "I would never bet against you in a fight." She kissed him on his cheek.

"Do you want to go in the pool for a swim?" he asked.

Trudy grinned and shook her head. "Not tonight," she answered.

"But you went to all the trouble to put your suit on and..."

She put a gentle finger over his lips. "Some other time," she told him. "I just thought of something even better."

"But Trudy," he protested, "What could be..."

"Frank, you're the kind of man a woman like me wants to be in bed with," she whispered. Frank looked at her but didn't say anything. They were still holding hands and she kept her face close to his. "Right now."

************** 

TO BE CONTINUED

Dear Readers,

I hope you've enjoyed the story. Don't forget to send me your comments.

AW



The Brass Statuettes Ch. 14



Chapter 14-Discovery

Brenda sat in a chair at the round table on Gloria's veranda. Juana had just cleared their lunch dishes. Although the weather was quite pleasant, no one wore their swimsuit under their cropped pants and blouses; no expectation of margaritas poolside in the après-lunch. 

To Brenda, Gloria's appearance appeared grim even though she had good news to tell the group—at least, it was good in Brenda's estimation. Gloria had briefed Brenda in advance. Knowledge of the paradox made Brenda feel even more confident. The especially satisfying part was that Brenda understood Gloria's inexplicable mood so well. The others couldn't begin to comprehend the gloom darkening the silver lining, and that understanding meant indispensability.

"The pool party was a total failure," Gloria announced. "All the secretaries left after Trudy and Jeannette stomped out. Not a one volunteered to work for the Foundation."

"I don't think anyone actually asked them," Ashley pointed out. "They left while you were inside."

Brenda winced as Ashley spoke. Experience taught her that blame must be meted out correctly; and correctness and alignment with facts weren't always the same thing. "What would you have expected," Brenda scolded the lesser-experienced member of the group. "It was clear that everything was going bad when Trudy broke up the party. Of course, she led Jeannette out with her."

"Of course," Ashley agreed, "It was Trudy and Jeannette's fault." 

"No, just Trudy's," Brenda corrected. "Jeannette's just a secretary. She had to follow her out; she was lucky to get a chance to be here in the first place." The wrong had been righted.

"I didn't know that Trudy can't take a joke," Ashley said. "If I had known..."

"It's Trudy's fault," Gloria interrupted, stifling the apology. "And it was my fault for trusting her. She fooled me with that performance at the Sunrise School. I should have seen through it. She was trying to worm her way in and take over."

"She could never fill your shoes, Gloria. She was a fool to even think she could," Brenda added.

"Her thinking is middle-class. I thought we could change that. I should never have let her get so close," Gloria said, biting her lip. "We'll have to deal with Trudy. I have an idea I'm working on."

Brenda sat back, smug as she accounted for every detail unfolding as if she had written a script. 

Ashley straightened up with a start. "But that means that we don't have Trudy or the secretaries to do the office work for us."

"I took care of that," Gloria assured the group. "I got Alvin to pledge more money from the company so that we can hire our own help. I'm going to a Temp Agency tomorrow to talk it over."

"Owww, that sounds wonderful," Ashley said. "What did you have to do to—or should I say for—Alvin to get him to go for that?" She started giggling as if she knew the answer. 

"First I insisted that he order the secretaries to volunteer," Gloria said. "He said 'no'—I knew he would. I told him that he had to make Frank tell Trudy to apologize. He said 'no' to that, too. We fought for a while and then we had our extra money."


"Oh," Ashley mumbled.

"I gave him a nice blowjob later to say 'thank you'," Gloria added, and Ashley's face brightened. "He'll remember it next time."

Brenda basked in self-satisfaction. Things were getting back to normal, and normalcy was a condition that she could manage. She started thinking that perhaps a few drinks would be in order, after all. She started to suggest it, but had a sense that something else wasn't quite right. She turned to the youngest of the quartet, sitting in the chair beside her. "Why are you so quiet, Darlene?"

It was true; Darlene had been silent throughout the whole discussion and lunch before that. Brenda had been noticing it for quite a few minutes. She'd kept silent until then because Gloria was the leader. It was for her to tend to unhappy members of the flock. Brenda realized that Gloria was preoccupied about Trudy and the spoiled party. It was for Gloria to make pronouncements; it was Brenda's job to keep everything in order.

Gloria snapped to attention when Brenda cast attention on Darlene. "Yes, that's true, Darlene," she said "What's the matter; why're you so quiet today?"

"It's Jason," Darlene blurted. Her voice told of tears being held back—but held back they would be. "He's at it again. He wants to find a new job; to be a dean at some university."

Gloria rubbed her chin; Brenda waited for Gloria to say something. Ashley's eyes were dancing, as they did whenever she sensed a chance for fun.

"That doesn't sound so bad," Ashley said out of turn. She sported an impish grin. "It would be such a nice, contented life," she sighed, "sitting barefoot and cross-legged on the lawn discussing the environment; tea and cookies with the grad students' wives; maybe something more interesting with the grad students." She giggled. "The male grad students, of course."

"Ashley," Brenda scolded. "Darlene's serious. Don't rub it in."

"But she's raht," Darlene whined. "That's jus' how it is. Ah did it once 'n' I couldn't hardly bear it. Ah'll nevah go back."

"Oh, my dear," Gloria finally spoke, "that does sound awful."

"An' he wants to move to Upstate New York," she whined, "of all the places." She buried her face in her hands.

"Well, we can't let that happen," Brenda declared. "Why is he doing this now?"

"He says it's because of Frank Bennett," Darlene bleated into her hands. "Jason says that Frank doesn't like 'im; that he's holdin' back money from his research. Yesterday, he lied about Jason to the FBI. He's makin' Jason simply mizrable."

"If it isn't Trudy, then it's Frank," Gloria snorted. She put her arms around the wounded lamb.

Darlene drew hands away from her face. "Ah know—but what am Ah to do?"

"That's easy," Gloria said. "If the problem is Finance, then you've got to talk to Jim Sweeney."

"Jim Sweeney?" Darlene asked. "Do Ah have to?"

"We already discussed this a few days ago," Brenda reminded her.

"I call him Mr. Hands," Ashley snickered.

"Whatever! He's the director with the most influence over corporate finances and the people who run them," Gloria instructed.

"But Ah wouldn't know what to say t' him," Darlene asked in a perplexed tone.

"Just tell him you need a favor," Brenda answered. "Jim's very good at doing favors."

Darlene took a breath to speak, and halted before letting it out. She cocked her head and glanced around at the three faces looking back at her. "Why," she stammered, "why should he do a favor for me?" 

"Why, indeed?" Ashley sniffed, and then didn't even try to hide the smirk that had crept across her face.

"You have to do what you must," Gloria mumbled.

Darlene's eyes darted among the group once more. "Ah couldn't," she gasped. "Ah jus' could not do it. Ah've always been true to Jason," she swore, "even before we were married." 

"And why couldn't you?" Ashley asked. "Just because you haven't done it before? Is that what you said when you were a virgin? You're not a virgin now, are you?"

"Why...well...back then there was a reason..."

"The stakes are a lot higher now, girl," Ashley sneered. "You don't have to fall in love with him—at least all the way; just barely enough to get him to do you a favor."

Darlene was panting and perspiration gathered above her brow, which she daintily padded away with her napkin. "Ah remembah talkin' 'bout this," she admitted. "It was all 'jus' s'pose' back then. Now it's the real thing. Ah nevah dreamed I..."

"None of us did, honey," Gloria growled. "We all managed."

"Wait, wait—all of you!" Brenda demanded. "Don't scare Darlene like this. You don't have to go to bed with anyone you don't want. Jim likes to have pretty women talk to him in a pretty way, that's all. You just have to flirt with him. Make him think you will sleep with him if he'll only do this one thing for you. Keep leading him on."

"But what if..." Darlene began to ask.

"Just keep leading him on," Brenda repeated. "There'll always be a problem you can make up. Just let him keep thinking 'next time-next time'. Eventually, he'll move on to someone easier."

"But be sure he helps you before he loses interest," Gloria insisted.

"But I've nevah done anythin' like that," Darlene protested. "Ah don't know if I can."

"It'll take a big effort; you've got to keep your wits about you.," Brenda answered. "You've got to be smart and make your plan ahead of time. But, it can be done. He is over seventy, after all."

"It's not hard to be smarter than a man who's horny," Ashley piped up. 

"You can do it," Brenda told her "and when it's over, think how you'll feel. You'll have taken your whole life in your own hands. You'll have made a man do your bidding—on your terms. Do you want to be controlled—or in control?"

"And Jason will be here to stay," Gloria said. "You won't have to worry about those ivy-covered college halls."

"Or the snow in Upstate New York," Ashley added. "It's for Jason's good, too—in the long-run."

"And don't worry," Brenda assured her. "Whatever happens, it'll be strictly secret among the four of us."

"As usual," Gloria confirmed. 

Darlene patted her brow again. Further words were needless; her friends' expectations were clearly stated. "Ah don't even know the man," she pointed out. 

"I do," Gloria said. "I'll arrange everything."

************* 

It was a three-hour drive to San Antonio on I-10 and that gave Darlene a chance to think about what she was doing. Gloria had told her not to think about it too much, and she tried to do as Gloria said. 

She had stopped to see Gloria as she drove out of town, and that scene played through her memory, too. She modeled the black dress she planned to wear when she would meet with Sweeney. It was sleeveless and cut low enough to show a reasonable amount of cleavage—more, if an interested man were willing to crane his neck a little to take in more than his share, and more, yet, if the wearer so desired. 

"Do y'all think Ah should wear the pearls, too?" 

Gloria shrugged. "Take 'em along with you and decide at the last minute." Brenda was there, also, and she agreed with the strategy.

Darlene didn't wear her dress all the way to San Antonio, of course. She had it neatly packed in an overnight bag. She had a hotel room reserved where she could shower and change. It was the same hotel where Sweeney was scheduled to give a speech to the Petroleum Society that evening. Gloria booked the room for her. 

Gloria arranged everything. She found out when Jim would be out of town and where he would be and if Mrs. Sweeney would be with him. It was often that Jim's wife stayed behind; in their recent, older years Jim was a lot more fun-loving than the Missus.

Gloria told Darlene the story to give Jason in order to be away for a night without him suspecting. She'd even instructed Darlene where to buy the dress that she'd just shown off—at Chez Pierre, of course. "It is a killer dress," Darlene admitted to herself. "When this is over, Ah'll wear it for Jason. He'll like it." 

"Just remember," Brenda reminded, "keep him expecting; there's no need to do more than that." Darlene reminded herself of that advice over and over.

As each pecan orchard gave way to the next Darlene shook her head, wondering how everything could all have been brought together so easily. It was all going so smoothly. Even Jason had little objection to her going to San Antonio for the overnight trip. She told him that she was going with Gloria—that Gloria and Brenda went all the time, but Brenda couldn't go this time and Gloria didn't drive.

Probably, Jason thought the trip with Gloria would cheer her up. Darlene's embargo on sex was still in effect—in the late afternoon, or any other time. "Ah made that crystal clear to him." There hadn't been any since the aborted late afternoon tryst, and there would be none until Jason gave up his silly notion of returning to academia. The last time she'd allowed him to see her—really see all of her—was when she dropped her silk robe at the bathroom door. She disappeared into the sanctum for the longest time while he lay flaccid on the bed. He finally gave up and went downstairs. She was asleep when he came back up, so he had no idea how long she was locked in there.

This little adventure would fix everything. Sure, it was dangerous. Jason would certainly not approve if he knew about it. In the end, there'd be no harm done and everything would be fixed. Then, she and Jason could have sex again and get back to normal life. 

As she passed Seguin she smiled because it was starting to make a lot of sense and she knew she was getting close to her destination. Her confidence began rising. "Ah was First Alternate Miss Georgia—and that was not too long ago." Whatever she lacked in experience, she made up in natural talent. Jason always thought a lot of her talent.

In no time, through her own device and of her friends, she arrived. She handed her keys to the boy at valet parking and went in checked into the hotel.

****************  

Darlene arrived early. It was that in-between time of day—too early for dinner, too late for almost everything else. She wouldn't see Sweeney until at least nine that evening. Her room overlooked the river six floors below. She thought about taking a stroll around the River Walk. "Too touristy," she told herself. She had enjoyed the endless strip of bistros and cafes when she came with Jason a number of times. In fact, she would have gone if she had an escort. Walking alone was not to her taste. "People might get the wrong idea," she reminded herself. 

So, she decided to stay in her room. She thought about Brenda and Ashley sitting with her mentor, Gloria, at the pool right about this time. Gloria would be summoning a pitcher of margaritas from Juana. There was no need for her to miss out. A little relaxer would be just right after that three-hour drive. She looked into the room's service bar—no margarita mix. She disliked brown spirits and she certainly wasn't going to drink a beer with a slinky dress to wedge herself into later; and wine didn't seem to be relaxer enough. 

"Room service, please," she spoke into the phone. She waited for someone to pick up the phone. "Should Ah get something with it?" she asked herself as she waited. "No, Ah don't think so. A'll just have a margarita. 

A voice came on the line. "Room 622," she announced, "would you send me up a margarita raht away?" She was about to hang up the phone and a sudden thought hit her. "Wait—wait!" she cried. The voice on the line hadn't hung up yet. "Make that two margaritas," she corrected. She set down the phone receiver and congratulated herself on her quick thinking. "Can't let the waiter think Ah'm drinkin' alone in mah lonely room." 

Everything was going so well—the arrangements, the story for Jason, the quick thinking on the phone. She felt like she was playing on a new field—a higher level than usual. She trembled a little at the feeling of newness and adventure. She realized that nervousness and excitement were no different from each other, and that gave her leave to like both of them. She hadn't felt the way she did since she glided down the runway at the Miss Georgia pageant when she was just a junior in college. "Ah'm a long way from l'il ol' Emory," she thought. She had just barely earned her degree at that school, but the diploma she was about to wrap her hands around would prove a lot more useful.

"The way things are goin', Ah should have Mr. Jim Sweeney eatin' outta mahl'il hand in no time. He'll give me jus' what Ah want." And, if she asked just the right way, she'd be obligated for little in return, she added as an afterthought.  

She was sitting in an overstuffed chair, contemplating the time on her hands and the best way to enjoy her margaritas. "A soak in th' tub!" She searched inside her overnight bag and pulled out a small bottle of viscous liquid. She dumped a quantity in the empty bathtub and turned on the hot water. "Ah've got such a naughty idea!" She kicked off her shoes and began unbuttoning her blouse. Steam began rising from the water, carrying the scent of the bubble potion throughout the hotel room. A mountain of suds was forming where the hot water poured into the tub. 

Soon Darlene was nude. She stood before the full-length mirror mounted just outside the bathroom. "Not bad—if Ah do say so, mahself," she cooed out loud. "An' Ah certainly do say so." She admired herself, first face-on and then in profile. She knew perfection when she saw it. She pivoted once more and swiveled her neck around to take a look at her round and smooth derriere, which she thought of as her best feature of all. "One last thing." She pulled off the hair band and let her tresses hang free. She looked in the mirror and thought she beheld a wild-child. The image of her nude body looked back at her from the mirror. The pampered, nubile wife was absent; saw only a temptress. She liked it. 

"Room service should be here any minute." She groped in her luggage again and pulled out the silk robe that she had carefully packed. It was the same one she's used to arouse her spouse not many days before. She unfolded it and felt the fabric caress her as it glided onto her body. She returned to the mirror. How to close the robe, yet leave it almost open? She tied the sash, pulled open the collar, experimented. She finally got it just how she wanted it. She stood still near the door because she thought if she moved around she would have to arrange it all over again—and then there might not be time.

"Room Service!" barked a voice outside her door and a sharp knock followed. Darlene didn't answer, so that the servant outside wouldn't know that she was standing just in front of the door. She put her eye to the peephole. There, in a hotel uniform stood a young black man patiently holding a tray with two frothy green drinks at his shoulder with one hand and a slip of paper in the other 

"Room Service!" the young man repeated. Darlene rechecked the positioning of her sash and slowly opened the door. 

"Hi, y'all," she drawled at the youth. "Come on in."

"Room service, ma'am," he repeated. "Two margaritas." Darlene stayed at the door. 

He slipped past her and entered the room. He said nothing, but Darlene watched him glance around, presumably searching for the beneficiary of the second margarita. His eyes went to the partly-open bathroom door from which scented steam poured out. Darlene approached him.

"Just set them on the table, if you please." Darlene was careful to get closer to him, but not too close and he did what she hoped, which was to fix his gaze onto her lavender silk robe with the painted orchids. There was enough skin showing to let him know that she was nude underneath, but he couldn't quite see past the cloth to her breasts. And, while a smooth thigh asserted itself outside the confines of the robe, Darlene made certain that was all he could see—"with his eyes, at least." 

"Ah just love margaritas," she drawled slowly at him. She paused to let him wonder what she might say next. "Do y'all like them, too?"

"Well, yes—yes I do," the young man answered, unable to hide a wide, expectant grin. He glanced toward the bathroom door and quickly back at her 

She looked right at him, with her eyes half-closed. "They're so...so relaxin'." She closed her eyes and let her tongue linger on her lips for a moment or two after she finished speaking.

"Uh...yeah..." he started to say, but was distracted by Darlene grabbing the invoice from his hand. She bent over the coffee table to sign the check. She let the collar of her robe fall open and she was sure that her target was getting a view at what she wanted him to see. 

She stood back up. "You should try one sometime," she cooed and handed him the signed guest check. The optimism vanished from the lad's face. He paused a second, as if not believing the invitation which a moment ago seemed so imminent, was only a mirage.. "Did Ah forget somethin'" Darlene asked, with her eyebrows raised. She drew up the sash tighter, dousing any trace of possibility. The waiter shook his head. He glanced to see if she'd given him a tip. She did and in less than a moment he turned and left the room




The Brass Statuettes Ch. 14



"That was good practice." She laughed when she thought of the boy and how easy it had been to manipulate the young male. She set the spare margarita in the service bar refrigerator and the other on a shelf next to the steaming tub. She slipped off her silk robe and hung it on the knob on the bathroom door and then stepped into the water. Her hands cupped her breasts as she stood in the clouds of suds. With her eyes closed she could feel the perfume, not just smell it. She inhaled again—deeper. Her nipples stiffened in her hands; she indulged herself in pinching them. It felt good. Her hands drifted down to the vee where her thighs joined; she pressed in a little. That felt good, too. A finger found its way into the slot. She was surprised at how moist it had become after her game with the black waiter. She absorbed a little spasm of pleasure.

"Ah' wager that young man is off in some private place relievin' himself raht now." She smiled. It was a little bit humorous and satisfying at the same time. She wiggled the finger inside her again. "Ah know that's what Jason would do." That thought made her laugh out loud. 

She suppressed her desires and removed the finger before things got carried too far. Her legs folded and she sunk down into the soothing foam. Her drink was on the shelf behind her. She retrieved it and took a healthy sip. The alcohol started to flush her at once; the contrast of the coldness of the drink to the warmth of all else awoke the senses. "Ah still got it."

************* 

Darlene spent a long time in the tub, rising only to fetch her spare margarita and then promptly returning. She had fallen asleep for a short time, shortly after polishing off the second drink. When she woke it wasn't quite time to get dressed, but the water had grown cold and the bubbles all but disappeared. She looked down at the soapy film on the water and could feel the same thing on herself, so she decided to take a shower. 

She put her hair up first and sealed it under a shower cap before stepping into the stall. The cleansing water poured down; her hands cupped her breasts again. She wanted to see if the earlier feeling was still there. It wasn't the same under the water as it had been when she was dry and powdery smooth, but something good was happening and that made her glad. She let her hand descend further, to the center of pleasure. That was in working order, too. She quickly pulled her hand away when the sensation started getting too good.

"Enough of that hanky-panky," she scolded. Scolded whom? Certainly not her, and one couldn't scold one's own body part without scolding oneself. She decided it was an unanswerable question and for an instant was an excuse to let her hands return down there to do what they wanted to do. As her fingers approached, she drew quickly back. She was unsure why, but she did so and was certain it was the right thing to do.

After she turned off the shower and dried herself Darlene looked at the River Walk below. Darkness had nearly descended all the way. She could stand nude in front of the window. The lights on the walk looked like stars in the sky. Stars meant destiny—destiny was demanding, secretive and master. It always chose its moment. Darlene felt herself shaking. At first, she tried to relax, and then realized that she didn't want to. She hadn't felt so since that night on the runway at the pageant.

There was just enough time to get dressed at a pace that she liked. When she finished, she would look just right.

************* 

When the elevator opened on the first floor it was nine o'clock and Darlene did look just right. She took a quick survey of the crowded lobby. There were hotel employees, of course, and many more people who looked beautiful, just like she did. She fit right into the fashionable scene and she blushed at that. She was glad that she wore her pearls, after all. With her dress showing so much skin, she told herself to try not to blush. But blushing, like many things, was involuntary. She had thought her black cocktail dress risqué. She observed a large number of dresses filling the scene before her that were far more daring. But, all of the women with daring dresses were on the arm of a man. Darlene stood alone in the lobby and her dress was plenty daring. Unknown and daring in San Antonio, she felt risqué.

As she strolled about the main floor she finally found what she was seeking. It was a banquet room full of people and it looked like a formal dinner breaking up. There was a sign: National Petroleum Institute; Speaker-Mr. James Sweeney, Effect of the Weak US Dollar on Worldwide Petroleum Prices. Darlene rolled her eyes. "Doesn't sound very excitin'." 

She was glad that Gloria hadn't arranged for her to attend the dinner. She might have fallen asleep during Jim's speech instead of in the tub.

She recognized Sweeney from Gloria's parties. He stood near the podium chatting and shaking hands. The crowd was thinning and she went into the banquet room and got at the end of his receiving line. She thought she saw Jim glance at her as she waited. Perhaps he did, or maybe she was just hoping so. As she waited she reviewed what she would ask him.

The receiving line seemed to speed up and soon Darlene stood in front of him. She extended her hand. "Hello, Mr. Sweeney, Ah'm..."

"I know who you are," Sweeney said as he smiled at her and softly took her hand. "Gloria Warner phoned me and told me to be on the lookout for you. Did you really drive all the way to San Antonio just to see me?"

"Why no, actually," Darlene replied, a little bit flustered. She nervously smoothed her hair. "Ah just drove down to do some shopping. When Ah saw your name on the sign Ah just naturally had to say 'hello'."

Sweeney listened and gave a skeptical harrumph. He never lost his friendly face. "You can call me Jim," he said. "And let me say that you are gorgeous in that beautiful dress."

"Why, Jim," Darlene blushed and giggled a little. She didn't say any more because she knew she didn't have to. 

"Let me buy you a drink," Sweeney said. "Gloria told me that if you found me you might like to speak to me about something concerning your husband." He placed his hand in the small of her back. "There's a bar over there," he said, pointing with his other hand. They walked together to the bar, whose walls were open to the traffic in the lobby. They found a table and sat down.

"What'll you have?" Sweeney asked when the waiter came to serve them. 

"A margarita," Darlene answered. The waiter wrote it on his pad. 

"Too sweet for me," Jim declared. "Make mine bourbon on the rocks."

Darlene suddenly couldn't find the right words to say. After all the thinking and planning during the drive over from Houston, and in the hot tub full of bubble bath and margaritas, what seemed so obvious became so elusive. She felt a chill—probably the air conditioning hitting her in the frothy dress. Sweeney looked at her. He was expecting something.

"Mr. Sweeney, mah husban'..."

"We don't have to talk about that now, Darlene—may I call you Darlene—we'll get to it later. For now, let's just enjoy our drinks."

He was such a kind and understanding man, at least in Darlene's estimation. He made it so easy for her to be there in such difficult circumstances. She raised her margarita to her lips. It was only going to be a small initial sip. It was, after all, her third one of the day. But the saltiness mixed with the sweetness and the shaved ice made her take in more than she originally intended. Margaritas were so relaxing, as she had most accurately informed the young Room Service bellhop that afternoon. The tequila took the chill away in short order, so she was glad she had taken in more than she originally planned.

There was a stage next to the bar. A group of Mexican men with beaded costumes and oversized sombreros climbed onto it carrying guitars. One had a trumpet. 

"Do you like mariachis?" Jim asked.

"Ah don't rahtly know," Darlene said. "We haven't lived in Texas that long and Jason doesn't like ethnic places."

"Shame," Jim said. The mariachis started playing, drowning out all else. They sang in Spanish. Darlene understood none of it. She was grateful for the extra time to allow her to compose her story. The music attracted people from the lobby and soon the bar was full. "I enjoy the music," Jim said as the group paused between songs, "but we'll never get to discuss what you want to talk to me about with all this noise." The band started playing again. Jim leaned closer and placed his hand on Darlene's bare arm. "Drink up!" he yelled over the noise. "I know a place that's better." He lifted his glass of bourbon and tossed down the remainder in one gulp.

Darlene looked into her margarita that she'd barely started. "C'mon, drink up. We're leaving." Jim cajoled. She raised the glass to her lips and took a gulp. She set it down. It looked like she'd hardly made a dent in it. "What're you waiting for, a doggy bag?" Jim was laughing and handing the waiter a handful of bills. Darlene closed her eyes and drank the remainder as fast as she could. She stood up right away, so she could get started before the alcohol took full effect.

Sweeney guided her to the bank of elevators. As they waited, an elevator door on the far side opened and a bell chimed. Darlene looked over at it. 

"Can't use those," Jim said. "Hafta' wait for one of these."

Darlene was starting to feel the effect of her drink. To her surprise, it felt good—just a warmth that made her feel good. She expected to be woozy. She remembered that she hadn't eaten anything. Someone had once told her that was a bad idea. "Maybe the lime juice in the cocktail counts as food," she speculated to herself. Anyway, she felt fine and so what was the problem? While she was figuring that out she realized that she and Jim were riding skyward in an elevator. 

"Whereabouts are we goin', Jim?"

"I've got a suite," he answered. "It's nice and quiet up there and we can have a discussion in private. Wait'll you see the view."

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Oh! Ah didn't realize we were going to your room. Ah doubt it would be propah." Darlene listened to herself say the words. They were the right words to say, but they didn't sound like words that would convince her if she were doing the listening. 

"Oh, it's not just my room," he assured her. "It's more like a collection of rooms in one. Most of it is a living room and a kitchen."

Darlene felt a little better, and she knew the elevator wouldn't stop until it arrived at his floor. Sweeney still wore his leprechaun smile. He really was a nice man—so gentlemanly. When the elevator door finally opened there was a security guard sitting at a small desk. His presence made Darlene feel better, too. Sweeney showed him an ID and they were quickly inside the suite.

"I think you were drinking margaritas," he said from the kitchen. Go ahead and look around while I fix you one."

What he'd said was true. The suite had a full living room and kitchen, along with a media area and a large balcony. There were several closed doors around the perimeter that Darlene took for bath and bedrooms. There were expansive windows that allowed a view to the hills around the city, but that was meant for the daytime. In the dark, there wasn't much to see. 

Sweeney approached Darlene and handed her a new drink. He had a fresh bourbon of his own. They touched glasses and took a sip. Darlene took a seat on a leather couch nearby and crossed her legs. The black cocktail dress slipped nicely up her thigh. It showed just the right amount of flesh and Darlene judged it to be a nice looking thigh, made just for that dress. Jim sat on the couch with her, but not too close. It was a big couch and they were at opposite ends of it.

"Now tell me what you wanted to speak to me about," Jim said and leaned toward her to listen.

"Well," she stammered, "mah husbin', Jason, has been with Western only a short time."

"He and Frank Bennett don't get along and you want me to talk to Frank," Sweeney volunteered. Darlene was surprised. She opened her mouth, but words couldn't come out. "Gloria Warner prepped me a little," he confessed. "Besides, I'm aware of it every time I go to the office."

"Why, yes," Darlene said.

"You know, Darlene, Frank is a good man, but he can very insensitive at times to sensitive people like Jason. I think I might be able to help you out."

"Oh, please, Jim," Darlene blurted out. "Jason wants to quit and move to a college in Upstate New York." She started crying.

Sweeney laughed. "We can't let that happen, can we? Now dry your eyes. I have a surprise."  

"Surprise?" Darlene blinked.

"Yes," Jim said. "I turned on the hot tub before I went down to give my speech. I don't think you noticed it on the balcony. We can take a soak and finish our drinks out there."

Darlene had not seen the tub sitting outside the sliding glass doors. "Oh...no...Ah mean Ah really hadn't expected that," she stammered. 

"I said it was a surprise," Jim said. He hadn't moved, nor had he given up that smile.

"Ah have nothin' to wear," she countered. "It truly is a surprise. Ah brought nothin' suitable with me."

Sweeney put his hand on Darlene's bare shoulder and stroked up and down her arm. "You won't need anything to wear, honey." Darlene gasped. She had expected some back and forth banter. She needed to find a suitable opening to back away from the proposition. This was all so direct. "You've done such a good job taking care of things," he told her in a soothing voice. "You've nearly completed the mission. I have to admire you; you've done it all on your own." He stroked her arm again.

"Thank you, Jim," she said, "but I didn't intend for things..."

"Oh didn't you?" he asked. His words were so pointed, but his face was so friendly.

He was still holding her arm. It wasn't a tight grip. She could have easily pulled away. She couldn't make herself do it. "Ah did do it all by mahself. It's what Ah had t' do, an' Ah'm not sorry," she said to herself. She relaxed and let Sweeney continue to hold her arm. It was starting to feel rather good. She reached with her free hand and took a healthy swallow of her margarita.

Sweeney released her arm. "You're shy," he said. "I'll get you a robe to cover yourself until we get in the water." He stood up from the couch and disappeared through one of the closed doors.  

Sweeney returned in about a minute carrying a terrycloth robe. Darlene stood in the middle of the living room waiting for him. She left her empty glass behind on the coffee table.

"Ah'm not shy," Darlene declared. She lifted her black cocktail dress over her head. While he was fetching the robe she'd removed her hose and panties. She was nude, except for the pearls and her earrings. She stood still in the middle of the room for him to see her. 

"Very nice," Sweeney drawled, as he might say if admiring a work of art, or a prize bull, or a gushing oil well. He tossed the unneeded robe on the couch. Darlene performed a slow pirouette. "Darlene, honey, I think we're gonna turn out to be the best of friends." She stepped close to him and kissed him. It was a physical kiss. She stroked his lips with her tongue as it ended. "Why don't you get in the tub?" he said. "I'll be right along after you."

"Why don't you take your clothes off and we'll go together?" she asked. "Don't tell me that you're the shy one."

"Not by a long shot, honey." He was already unbuttoning his shirt. He threw his clothes on the couch with Darlene's robe. Soon they were both nude. "I'm ready if you are," he said. He reached out and cupped her breast. To her surprise, he was gentle and well-practiced. He rubbed his thumb over the nipple. Darlene liked that. 

"Ah think it would be nicer to go in the hot tub aftah-ward," Darlene said.

Jim released her breast. "Follow me." He led her to one of the closed doors.

She spoke to herself as she followed him. "A really think Ah can do it. Ah'm gonna do it. Ah wouldna' believed it, but Ah'm really gonna do it." She obediently followed him and thought of Gloria as she walked the few steps. He opened the door; she beheld a king sized bed with the covers turned down; she looked down at it. "Ah'm gonna do it." She could scarcely believe it, but it was real.

************* 

Darlene took her place on the bed without hesitation. Jim offered his hand and she took it for support so she could ease down in the center in a graceful manner. One might not have thought the pretentious descent so important at a moment when so much else was happening; it was part of the package.

The clean sheets felt cold on her bare back. She looked up and saw Jim standing alongside the bed, looking at her and smiling. She took a quick look at his chest full of hair, the rotund belly, his erection just below it. He was so different from Jason; she didn't mind. In fact, she looked forward to the difference. 

She fought off her urge to roll up into a demure cocoon. "Ah've come this far—why hide?" She relaxed with her arms to her side, her knees bent so her feet were flat on the sheets and her thighs spread open just a little. She didn't avert her eyes, but looked straight back into his. She began to like the feeling of him looking at her. His expression told her that he liked what he saw. Why shouldn't he? There was nothing not to like, after all. She'd confirmed it in the mirror in her room that afternoon. 

It was all hers to give or withhold; it was at her sole discretion. It could be given freely or in mercenary fashion. It was for her to decide. She felt high. She assumed it was the tequila finally having its way with her. Perhaps it was—she didn't care.

She let him look all he wanted. There was a new feeling—one that she liked—that came upon her. She felt the power to use her body to please and to take control. She was about to get for herself that which she wanted—no, what she needed. She was taking, not asking; value given for value received. It was the value of her—determined by her, not by Jason. With that realization, she became glad that things were turning out as they were.

"Really nice, Darlene," Jim said in a low voice. She was confident that he meant it. She raised her arms and reached out to bid him welcome. He took her hands in his and mounted the bed.

She expected him to climb between her legs and begin. She would have let him. Instead, he positioned himself alongside her. His hands smoothed and caressed all over her body. They glided over her legs and inside her thighs; across her taught belly and over her breasts. As his palm passed over them the nipples erected a little bit harder and that felt rather nice. Jim's body was certainly different from Jason's, and his technique was different, too.

"You're beautiful, Darlene," she heard him say. It made her flush. He didn't have to say that, but she was glad did. "I want to make you feel good," he whispered in her ear. He reached down and tenderly drew her labia apart.

"That would be alraht, but it can't be allowed to go too far," she said a silent reminder. He inserted his finger there, and she did feel some pleasure. He knew just where her magic bud was, and he was so careful not to rub it too hard, like men sometimes do. He found just the right pressure and rhythm. Darlene relaxed and let him keep it up. It was rather nice. She felt his erection pressing against her thigh. She wrapped her fingers around it and heard him moan. 

It was hard to bring such a nice thing to a close, but she wanted to maintain some reserve. This was sex, not love-making, after all. "Ah'm ready," she whispered. He didn't say anything. He withdrew his finger from her and started to lift himself from his lying position. She let go of his penis. She spread her thighs wide; he climbed in between them. He knelt between her legs, taking a final look before descending down to her. "Lookin' at me like Ah'm the Mona Lisa." 




The Brass Statuettes Ch. 14



He put a hand at either side of her shoulders to support his own weight. "Very thoughtful; Ah'll have to teach that to Jason." She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He lowered himself and he felt him probing for her opening. "Should Ah kiss him first?" He didn't seem eager for a kiss, so she let it go. He kept probing, so she slipped a hand down to help guide him. She felt him at her gate. "Ah cain't believe Ah jus' put him inside me." It was really happening. It was all so fast and surprisingly easy. What surprised her most was that she liked the doing of it, all on her own. He was a powerful businessman, but she'd captured him inside her at that moment; she controlled him.

She felt him press forward and he sank into her. She was very wet. He slid through her easier than had been her drive down I-10 that afternoon. When he bottomed out he let out all his breath. He quickly drew in another. "Darlene, that feels so good."


"Why of course it does, Jim-dear. Ah'm the best y'all evah had," she told herself. In the back of her mind she knew that she had no idea how many he'd ever had—probably scores and all very good. At the moment, the doubt didn't bother her. 

He stayed buried deep inside her, in no hurry to get on with the act. "He truly is so very thoughtful. An older man must know these things." It was such a nice, full, cozy, wonderful feeling to have him buried in there; him enjoying the feeling too. It was a shame that this wasn't more than quid pro quo. It could be quite nice.

At long last he began to slide himself backward. "May as well get this ovah with." As he began his thrust to rebury himself within her—as she well knew he would—she flexed her pelvis and rose to meet him. It would help him come faster. She heard him utter a sound of pleasure. Her ploy was working.

He slid partway out again and she pressed back up in rhythm with him once again. "Oh mah goodness!" The movement had caused a peculiar part of her to be stroked and it brought her so much pleasure. She wanted it again. She pressed up once more at the proper moment in search of it—and there it was again. "That was truly wonderful!" 

She had a ways to go before things would get too far along, and she'd never climaxed without the help of her anal aid—which she'd definitely not brought along. So, she felt safe enough in opening her thighs even wider and curling her heels around the back of Jim's knees. She thought it would give her leverage to thrust up with even more force and deepen the pleasure. She was correct.

She felt her climax approaching. It was the one thing that she'd resolved to hold back, but it came rushing onward like an express train on a single track that ran through her body. She gave up trying to stave it off. She used the man on top and inside her to open a way for it, to give herself the ultimate. It was her extra reward for a job well-done. She pressed up as hard as she could, matching his timing. She barely heard herself screaming. Suddenly the climax was on her. An initial spasm, and then one wave and then another overtook her. She relinquished control; it was hers to give up and she surrendered. She ceased pumping and allowed the gift to be bestowed on her. It was good; she deserved it.

Jim kept on thrusting for about a half minute. From the haze of her afterglow she more or less sensed him coming inside her. She heard him groan but never felt him discharge. That was his affair. She would clean herself later. For the moment all she wanted was to try to remember everything, so she could live though it over again—at least in her mind. "Ah really did it," she thought as he slipped out of her and rolled aside. 

*****************    

TO BE CONTINUED

Dear Readers,

Thanks for reading. I hope you're enjoying it.

AW



The Brass Statuettes Ch. 15



Chapter 15 Promises Kept.

Darlene stayed overnight with Jim after they had sex. Jim was over seventy; one erection per night was his limit. It didn't bother him. He took a little nap and Darlene cleaned herself up and then used the neglected hot tub while he dozed. When she climbed back onto the bed again he woke. He fondled her for awhile and she let him. She thought he was trying to arouse himself for another round, but he pulled her on top of him—seated her on his face and brought her to climax again. "He's such a really thoughtful man." They got into the hot tub together and had a nightcap while they soaked their thoughts away. After that, they went back to bed and went to sleep.

Darlene woke before Jim. As she lay in the bed, listening to his deep breathing, she thought he would probably want sex when he woke up. "Mustn't overindulge," she reminded herself. "Better one too few than one too many." She stole out of his bed and dressed. As she was about to leave he mumbled himself awake. She bent over and kissed him on the forehead. "See ya," she whispered. Jim rolled over and went back to sleep.

Darlene took a long shower in her own room and checked out of the hotel, her black dress packed carefully in her overnight bag. As she retraced her route up the Interstate she remembered the security guard outside the suite door when she departed. He said nothing, just as his nighttime partner, only glanced and made a checkmark on a list. "He musta' known, but he didn't say a word." Indeed, it was her and Jim's private business. Darlene was learning a lot. It had been a night of firsts. "Well, not countin' that judge at the Miss Georgia Pageant", she remembered. But he had ejaculated all over her leg just as she was about to let him inside her. Darlene never counted that as a time. "Besides, Ah didn't even know Jason back then." 

She didn't go straight home when she got back to Houston. She decided to drop by Gloria's house instead. Juana let her in. She found Gloria flanked by Ashley and Brenda having a drink on the veranda.

"Hello, dear," Gloria called out as Darlene appeared in the doorway. "Care for a drink?" It was as though Darlene was stopping to chat on her way home from the salon.

"Don't mind if Ah do."

"Been home yet?" Brenda asked.

"No, Ah thought Ah'd stop here first. Ah called Jason on my cell; he's at the office. There's no one to go home to."

"How was the drive?" Brenda continued questioning.

"Fine; not too much traffic, until Ah got close to Houston, of course." 

"Well, we're just beside ourselves waiting to hear what happened," Gloria said all at once. "Are you going to make us drag it out of you?"

"No," Darlene protested. "Ah was just gettin' to it." 

"So?" Brenda demanded. 

"Well Jim said that he'd help me with Jason and Frank Bennett."

Brenda frowned at the incomplete answer. It had already been assumed that Sweeney would do something to help her, or at least promise that he would. Everyone knew that Jim never turned down a favor.

"What about the rest of it?" Brenda probed. 

"You mean..." 

"Yes, exactly," Brenda confirmed.

Darlene's face turned a deep shade of red as she paused and Brenda had her answer, but she required Darlene to say it, just the same.

"Remember, you were told once that you have to tell us," Ashley said. Gloria nodded her head in agreement on the other side of the table.

"Well, Ah did sleep with him," Darlene blurted out. "Ah went to his suite. Things just more or less...happened."

"That's my girl," Gloria said, laughing.

Brenda kept silent, searching Darlene's expression for her thoughts. 

"How was it?" Ashley asked. 

"It was...rather nice. Jim was so thoughtful. It was so much easier than Ah thought it would be."

"So, you weren't thinking about Jason?" Brenda asked.

"Well Ah did, once or twice. Ah was doin' it for Jason, after all—and for me. We're s'posed to enjoy our work. You said that, too, Gloria."

"We sure did," Gloria agreed.

"So how do you feel now?" Brenda asked. "Any regrets?"

"No," Darlene answered. "Ah feel alive. Ah have power now. Ah feel like Ah took control of mahself and mah life, for once." Darlene paused, letting her declaration hang in the late summer air. When she was sure they had heard her she smiled slightly, in a shy way. "An' Ah got a very good tumble out of it, to boot—two, actually."

Gloria stood and put her arm around Darlene. "Bravo, girl. Now, you're truly one of us—in every way."

"I didn't know that Jim could do two in one night," Brenda pointed out. "He's a little old for that, but he is very good."

Darlene turned her head and looked at Brenda. Her mouth gaped open in a shocked expression. 

"I've slept with Jim a time or two," Brenda explained.

"Me, too," Gloria confessed. The women all laughed together. 

"Well he is pretty good," Darlene squealed over the laughter.

Brenda quieted and drank a good bit from here glass. "You didn't have to, you know," Brenda reminded her. "No one said you had to. It was all your decision—your responsibility."

"Ah know," Darlene answered. "It all happened so fast an' soon Ah knew that Jim expected more; an' then Ah began to enjoy mahself. Next thing, we were in bed together. But it's okay. It all turned out jus' fine."

Brenda sat back, her job complete. She had brought the novice to the higher level, an augmentation of the corps. She didn't feel sad at Darlene's corruption—or happy about it, either. She felt neither satisfaction, nor regret. What she did miss was the feeling of some emotion at such an important event in the young woman's life. She could have felt pride for Darlene's courage or shame at her part in facilitation. It was nothing—a task she'd performed, like placing a postage stamp on an envelope. It worried her that such things brought no feelings to her. She couldn't even remember how she felt when it had been her turn for initiation. She wondered if such numbness was a sigh of age. 

"I knew it would happen that way," Brenda told Darlene. "It was inevitable. I just told you the other way to make it easier for you."

*************** 

Frank had a busy day trying to put together the new financing deal. Not only that, a new forecast was just getting under way. Although the 10-Q from the last quarter wasn't yet out on the street, time had a way of marching on.

Business conditions were turning against the Chemical Industry. Homebuilding was tailing down dramatically, and many of Western's products served that industry. Feed stocks of crude petroleum were increasing in price, too. They were in danger of getting caught in a squeeze between prices and costs. Wall Street was already casting a suspicious eye on Western because of all that happened. Poor economic news made the road a lot bumpier.

All of that was on Frank's mind, but he put it aside for a while to address something else that was important, too.

"You sure you don't want some coffee, Aaron," he said to the nervous employee seated across his desk. Aaron shook his head. "Probably not," Frank said to himself. "He's jumpy enough as it is." 

"I'd offer you a scotch, but I'd have to see your ID first." Aaron didn't react, perhaps not understanding Frank's joke, or possibly because he was too nervous to muster even a polite laugh. Frank assumed it was the first reason, because he remembered how in his younger days, laughing at all of the vice-president's jokes was always a good idea. "Maybe it wasn't that good a joke." 

"How about some juice, then? Orange—apple? I've got both. You look like you're about to faint—I insist."

"Okay—apple, I guess," Aaron answered. Frank leaned over to the intercom and asked Jeannette to bring in an apple juice on ice for Aaron.

Frank sat back down and took a sip of coffee before speaking to his protégé. "Aaron, I think you're taking this FBI questioning too hard."

"Why are they on me like this? I haven't done anything?"

"They have to, Aaron. You were in on the forecast, and that information leaked out prematurely. They have to talk to anyone who had a connection to it."

"I suppose so."

"They interviewed Dr. Lowell right ahead of you," Frank told him, "and I have no doubt they'll be grilling me before it's all over."

"It's not what they said, it's how they said it," Aaron admitted. "It was like they thought if they pressed a little harder I would confess to something. To me, it felt like someone accused me behind my back."

"No one did that," Frank answered. "Why would anyone do that?" Frank didn't regret telling the lie. What would have been the use of informing the young man that a vice-president—a lesser man than Aaron in Frank's estimation—had done exactly what Aaron suspected? "What did they ask you, anyway?"

"At first it was our procedures for compiling the forecast and who had access. Then they found out about my inheritance. It made them more suspicious."

Just then, Jeannette came into the office with Aaron's glass of apple juice poured over ice. She set it on the coffee table and put the half empty bottle next to it. 

"Can I get anything else for you, Aaron?" she asked in her sweet voice as she set the glass of apple juice in front of him. Aaron shook his head. "More coffee, Mr. Bennett?"

"No, thanks just the same," Frank answered. He turned to Aaron. "What do you mean, 'inheritance'?"

"My grandmother died about a year ago and the will finished probate at about the same time I was doing the forecast. They asked me about my finances and I told them about it. They asked me to sign a release form for my broker."

"Did you sign it?" Frank asked.

"Sure, why not?" Aaron shrugged. He took a swallow of the apple juice and went on with his story. "My grandmother left me a hundred and eighty thousand dollars. I was too busy working on the forecast to figure out how to invest it, so I bought T-bills just to get it into something for the time being. The agent asked me why I didn't buy Western stock. I told him I thought it was going to go down, so I put the money into something safe for the time being."

"So the agent—Henderson is his name—thought you knew Western stock was going down because of what you learned doing the forecast?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Aaron said.

"Was he right?" Frank asked. 

Aaron hesitated. He took another gulp of his drink; Frank figured it a play for time. He set the drink on the coffee table. "Yes," Aaron answered.

Frank thought for a second. "Honest answer," he said to himself. "Aaron, you can't get in trouble for stock you didn't buy. If that's all it is, you're worrying about it too much." Aaron nodded and relaxed in his chair. "That is, unless you passed the information to someone. You didn't tell anyone, did you—uncles, cousins, friends?"

"No—no one," Aaron replied. "I was very careful. I know the rules."

"In that case, just answer their questions as honestly as you can. Be patient and it will all go away soon." 

"They called me back in right after I got to my desk this morning," Aaron blurted out.

"They're gonna do what they're gonna do," Frank said. 

"I feel like they think it was me," Aaron said. "Maybe the company thinks it was me, too. They expect me to be caught."

"Al Crossman would give anything to hear you say that," Frank thought. How could Aaron know that he was nominated to be the human sacrifice? Frank remembered battling his way out of a few scrapes when he was starting out, like Aaron was. Why couldn't a young guy like Aaron just do his job and not have to worry about this? Was everyone as frightened as Aaron? Fear could do powerful things to people—none of them good. "Aaron, if you want to play with the big boys, you have to expect that they're going to throw big punches."

Frank wasn't surprised when he saw Aaron recoil at the advice. He wasn't sorry he said it, either. Sugarcoating was pointless. "My wife thinks I need a lawyer," Aaron said.

Frank's memory drifted back to what Trudy said to him when he confided to her as they sat by the pool: 'I know you too well, Frank. You would never let that happen.'

"At least Trudy has some high expectations of people," Frank thought. "At least, of me." It was a burden that he was bound to carry—would never have relinquished if he could have. "Can't let Trudy down, can I?" 

"Aaron, I believe you're telling the truth, and as long as you do, I'll back you up." He looked Aaron in the eye and sensed that the young man believed him. He relaxed in his chair. "Look, you can hire a lawyer if you want. I doubt you can afford one who can go one-on-one with these guys. Why don't you hold off on that for a while?"

Aaron ground his lips together as he pondered Frank's advice. Frank waited while the battle of logic and instinct played out. "If it comes to it, I'll give you the word and recommend you to someone I know who can do the job," Frank promised. 

"I will; at least for right now."

"Good!" Frank answered. "Come up to my office first thing in the morning. We have to get a new forecast started."

"You still want me to work on the forecast after all..."

"Yes—yes," Frank insisted. "I said that I believe you, didn't I? You've got to believe me, too."

Aaron rose to take his leave. "Keep your cool," Frank said to him. "And tell you wife not too worry so much," Frank called after him.

After he closed the door Aaron looked down at his hand and realized he'd carried his empty juice glass out with him. 

"I'll take care of that," Jeannette said, holding out her hand. 

"Thanks," he said as he handed her the glass

"I've known him a long time," Jeannette said to Aaron. "The tougher things get, the more you can count on him. Be sure to remember that."

*************** 

Jeannette came in to see Frank after Aaron disappeared into the elevator.

"What was with the apple juice? You have several bottles in your refrigerator. I replenished it last Friday."

"Aaron was feeling kind of low. I thought if you came in and served it to him it would give him a little pick-me-up. You know, some TLC to boost his morale."

"I thought it might be something like that. So you wanted Aaron to feel mothered?"

"No, Jeannette. If I'd wanted that I would have called Doris. I don't think a healthy young man would think of you as a mother figure."

Hah!" Jeannette laughed. "I've half-a-mind to have you put in front of an EEO firing squad." 

I'd die with a smile on my face," Frank joked back. "Anyway, I'm sorry if I offended you. I didn't think you'd mind.

"It's alright," Jeannette replied with a laugh.. "You should have told me. I would have played the part better."

"Your natural self was what I was hoping for," Frank assured her. 

Jeannette covered her face to cover a sheepish smile. "Anyway," she continued after she recovered, "That's not the reason I came in. I came in to let you know that Jim Sweeney is in reception and is on way to see you."

"Thanks, Jeannette. Show him right in when he gets here." Frank wasn't expecting a visit from his favorite director, but he wasn't very surprised. Jim was local and visited often. Considering the current crisis, Frank wasn't surprised a bit. 

A few minutes later Jeannette appeared at Frank's office door again. "It's Mr. Sweeney," she announced.

Frank saw Jim standing behind her. His eyes scaled up and down her tall, slender form. "Show him in, Jeannette" Frank said. Sweeney didn't wait and bounded into the room and Jeannette closed the door behind him. "Drinkin' the usual, Jim?"

"Sure, bourbon-rocks," he answered. Frank poured it, and then a scotch for himself. He motioned his guest away from his desk, to the office alcove where they could be comfortable and have a conversation. 

"One day Jeannette is going to turn around and catch you undressing her with your eyes," Frank admonished with a laugh.

Sweeney laughed, too. "Set me up so I can undress her properly and I won't have to do it with my eyes," he answered back. "Wow! She's quite a woman," he added. "Real class."

Frank took a sip of his whiskey. He wasn't finished bantering. "So, why would a woman with that much class have anything to do with a couple of guys like us?" 

Sweeney finished swallowing some bourbon and started laughing at Frank's joke. "I can look can't I? They won't arrest an old geezer for looking."

"Who knows, in this day and age," Frank countered.

Jim shrugged and took another sip of whiskey. "One hell of a classy woman," he mused out loud.

Frank gave him a moment to enjoy his thoughts. After a few seconds he broke the spell. "Hey, what's up, Jim; what can I do for you today?" Frank paused for a second. "Besides let you clean out my supply of bourbon?"

"Thought I'd come over and ask you what you're thinkin' about regarding the financing of the R&D projects," Jim said. "I know you've got you hands full with the FBI roaming all over the place. I'm concerned that we might not be gaining any ground. I wanted to hear the answer from you."

Frank nodded. "That's fair enough." He got up to freshen his drink. Sweeney handed him his glass and Frank refilled that one, too. "The fact is, Jim, I'm trying not to think very much about the investigation. I have bigger things on my plate. I have been working on a new financing package for R&D."

"That's what I was hopin' you'd say," Sweeney said. "We can't take our eye off the ball."

"My idea right now is to do an end run around the Chase deal that went cold. I'm talking directly to the insurance companies that were ready to come in under Chase and see if I can get them to come in by themselves."

"Makes a lot of sense," Jim said. "Do you think you can pull it off?

"I think we've got a good chance," Frank said. "We might have to restructure the paper; maybe convertible debentures instead of a straight debt package. That's up in the air right now. I think they would want a bigger share of the upside than when Chase was running the deal."

"Than would be a big change," Jim warned. 

"I know," Frank agreed. "It all depends on what the numbers say about the EPS dilution. We're not at that stage, yet. We can't get real serious until the SEC lets our docs out on the street. After that, we can get serious."

Sweeney sighed. "How's that goin', anyway?"

"Al Crossman's on it. We could have a decision on Wednesday if all goes well. Anyway, every day they get more stale. We're starting to put together the next forecast right now. There are some concerns there, too."

"Afraid of a downturn in this economy?"

"I think that's a given," Frank agreed. "With the housing market like it is, our Adhesives and Sealant Divisions are going to take a big hit. It hasn't shown up on the revenue line yet. It's only a matter of time. Not only that, paint manufacturers and fabrics will slow down and we'll get hurt when that happens, too."

Sweeney let out a deep breath. "I know it's part of the cycle. It couldn't come at a worse time."

"The important thing is to show that we're in control of it—that we're taking care of it, and that our other businesses are in good shape."

Jim relaxed and took a drink of his bourbon. He looked happier. "I've got to hand it to you, Frank. You're on top of it. I'm gonna' help you where I can. You just hafta' give me the word."

"We're going to need your help, Jim. The credit should go to Alvin. He's the one who's got the ship tightened up. I only told him where the loose bolts were. He has a tough job, doubling as President and CEO."

"You think that Alvin should put someone in as President?" Sweeney asked.

"It would be up to the Board," Frank answered. "It might be a good move, provided the right person went in."

"Alvin mentioned Blake Hart," Sweeney said. "You like that idea?"

"Blake would be a good choice, in my view," Frank said. "I think he would be the only internal candidate right now."




The Brass Statuettes Ch. 15



"So you counted yourself out?" Sweeney almost suppressed a grin. He sat back, eying Frank, sipping on his whiskey.

"C'mon, Jim; my chair's not even warm yet. I just got into this job," Frank laughed off the suggestion. Sweeney paused for a second, and then laughed, too—but not as hard as Frank.

"So what would you say would be the most pressing issue for a new President?" Sweeney asked.

"That's not for me to..."

"You hafta' answer," Sweeney interrupted. "What should a new President tackle right away?"

"I would have to say getting control of R&D," Franks answered without hesitating. "I think that Jason is good at getting new formulas out of his scientists. What we need is focus—something to put into the marketplace. Jason doesn't seem to under..." Frank stopped himself before finishing his sentence, but Jim was nodding, so he realized that he hadn't stopped himself fast enough.

"You don't care for Jason much, do you?" Sweeney said.

Frank shrugged. He thought hard before answering. It was true; he didn't think much of Jason. What difference did that make? He refused to pretend. "It's not a question of liking him, or not," Frank answered. "We're at too high a level for that kind of stuff. I just wish Jason could play better on the team."

"Not a 'team player', eh?" Sweeney repeated back to Frank. "I thought you'd be a little more original that that, Frank."

"Original or not, it's what I think. Look, I know that Jason is very smart. It's just that his smarts are limited to chemistry. Here, he needs science and business," Frank explained, "and maybe to be a regular guy once in a while."

"When it comes to Jason, we've got a problem," Sweeney said. "He made quite a name for himself at the University, so he's in the spotlight. That puts all of us in the spotlight. If we cut him loose—or if he cuts himself loose—anyone that matters will know it right away. It would be a big prestige loss."

"We can't afford that with everything else that's happening around here," Frank completed Sweeney's thought.

"You got it," Jim confirmed. "There are rumors floating around that he's thinking of putting feelers out—to go back to the college life."

"I didn't know that," Frank said, "but I'm not surprised."

"It would be a shame to lose him prematurely," Jim said and then put on his leprechaun expression, "and that cute little Missus of his." "You mean Darlene the Beauty Queen?" Frank laughed.

Sweeney's face took on a confused look. "Beauty Queen?" he asked.

"Yeah, she was in some pageant during her college days," Frank said. "Miss Georgia Peach, or something. I don't remember very well. I wasn't that interested when I heard it."

"Beauty Queen, eh?" Jim said to himself, and then let out a throaty laugh.

"Did I say something funny?" Frank asked.

"No—no," Sweeney said, "just thinking to myself. Anyway, can you help Jason get acclimated to corporate life and take it easier on him in the meantime?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Frank replied. "I'll do what I can."

"Good!" Jim exclaimed. "I've done what I promised," he mumbled under his breath.

"What was that, Jim? I didn't hear what you said."

Oh, nothing, nothing," Jim assured him. He held out his empty glass. "Just a short one, and then I'll be on my way," he said. 

Frank got up to get the refill. "Beauty Queen," he heard Jim mumble to himself once more. 

******************* 

Each afternoon the sun sank earlier in the western sky. Gloria sensed it without checking the clock; another summer going by. Her friends had left for their own homes and whatever awaited them there. She sat alone on the veranda finishing her drink, thinking about things. Juana was nearby tidying up, but had been quiet.

"Well, little Darlene finally did the dirty deed with Jim Sweeney. I wasn't so sure she would, but Brenda seemed to know how to handle it." There was a slight touch of sadness when she considered the first little blemish on the lily. It was to be expected, because flowers always got blemishes when they were out in the sun. It had been necessary, of course; besides, Darlene certainly deserved some fun away from that idiot, Jason. "And, Jim Sweeney can sure be a lot of fun." A distant voice questioned Gloria's part in the deflowering. Sometimes she wondered if people's affairs might be better if she left them alone. Gloria thought again. "How could that be true?" 

Oh, well; Darlene seemed more than happy enough when she'd seen her that afternoon, and Gloria had no doubt she'd be better off in the long run.

A short distance away the pool sat, alone and empty. Gloria spent little time there since that aborted party for the secretaries that Trudy ruined. She felt like the pool—once teeming with fun and pleasure, but ending up alone and ignored. She lifted her glass to her lips and tilted her head back. The rest of her drink trickled down her throat.

"José, he say dee roses go to sleep now," Juana informed Gloria from over her shoulder. In the distance, José worked the grounds in the late afternoon. He was pushing a wheelbarrow—in no hurry—gathering up his harvest of pruned canes that he removed earlier in the day. "José, he take off dee bad stems. Ees for dee flo-wairs next year."

"So the rosebushes never die? He just cuts off the bad parts so they can be beautiful again."

"Si, I teenk so," Juana replied.

Gloria sighed. She watched the gardener push the wheelbarrow and gather the dead branches on his inevitable circuit around the grounds. "I wish we could do that," Gloria admitted. "I'd like to cut off the bad parts and be beautiful again." She picked up her glass, but remembered that she had already finished her drink. "It would sure be nice." She sighed again.

She expected a quick answer from Juana, and when she didn't get it she turned around to face her. She saw her maid rubbing her eye, possibly removing a speck of dust from it. "Maybe José would say, eet depends how you teenk about beaut-ee-ful."

Gloria squinted at Juana. She would never understand what this puzzling woman said. "What does that mean, Juana? It's too late in the day for riddles. People aren't like roses. They don't just keep growing. They get older all the time; when beauty goes away, it never comes back. You can't cut old canes off of people like you can roses. We're stuck with whatever we've got."

"Maybe, I teenk 'no'," Juana proclaimed in defiance of her mistress' dictum. "We cut d'em all dee time." 

To Gloria it was too much to think about at the moment. The afternoon sun tired her and the late drink had made her mind foggy. "I don't want to deal with this now. I'll explain it to her in the morning, after coffee; after I can think of a good answer," she said to herself.

"Señor Alvin—he ees home soon?" Juana asked, ending Gloria's train of thought.

"Who knows?" Gloria answered. "So much work in the office. No time for me."

"I teenk Señor Alvin ees home soon," Juana repeated. "He meeses you, I teenk."

"Misses me?" Gloria asked. "He just saw me this morning at breakfast. How could he miss me so soon?"

"I mees José an' he ees right over d'are," Juana retorted as she pointed at him. "After I make dee deenare we are together een our casa."

"It's a different way of life," Gloria told herself. "I may never make her understand." She didn't, at that moment, wish to think about it. She rose from her chair. "Juana, I'm going upstairs to take a shower and change my clothes." She walked across the veranda and through the French doors. "Who knows? Maybe Alvin will be home on time tonight." 

She turned to tell Juana to let Alvin know where she was if he got home before she came downstairs. She stopped herself before she spoke. "Don't want to give the wrong impression." 

**************** 

When Jim Sweeney got up to leave Frank decided to call it a day, too. "Wait up, Jim. I'll walk out with you."

As they stood at the front door waiting for their cars, Jim looked at him. "By the way, I forgot to ask. How's Trudy?"

"Trudy who?" Frank replied with a laugh. "I hardly get to see her anymore. I think I'm married to my desk."

"Knowing Trudy, I'm sure she understands," Jim said. As he drove home Frank asked himself if Trudy really did understand, and then answered himself. "Yeah, I'm sure she does; a lot of women wouldn't. At least, I'll be home one day this week for dinner."

He walked in the house and set his briefcase in the corner. Trudy was in the kitchen, preparing dinner. "Look what the cat dragged in!" she laughed. 

"I thought you'd be glad to see me," Frank protested. 

"I am," she assured him as Frank patted her on the rump. "Surprised, too."

"I'm going upstairs to change my clothes," he called to her.

Trudy walked into the bedroom as Frank was hanging up his trousers.

"I know you're busy at the office," Trudy said.

"What else is new?" Frank answered. 

"You've probably forgotten. If you can't do it, I'll understand."

"Trudy, what's up? I have no idea what you're taking about."

"Patricia's going to college on Thursday," Trudy said. "It would be nice if you could go with us. It's not just to lug her stuff into her dorm room. It'll be her first time away..."

"Oh no, Trudy; I forgot." Frank stood looking at the floor, shaking his head. He took a deep breath. "I don't know right now how I'm going to manage this."

"Patricia will understand if you can't go," Trudy said. "It would mean a lot to her if you could. I think she's a little nervous about leaving home and she'd like her Daddy with her."

"I know. I'm nervous, too. These things always happen at the worst moment."

"We spent the day packing today," Trudy said. "She didn't say a word. I think she didn't know what to say."

"What about 'what's-his-name?" Frank asked.

"You mean Devon? He left for college yesterday. I think that's one thing that made it hit home to her. She's always had a hard time expressing her feelings, but I can read the tea leaves."

Frank sighed again. "It's going to be hard to get away on Thursday," Frank said again. He paused. "Don't say anything to Patricia. I'll talk to her. She deserves that, at least."

"Do what you can, Frank. I know you're busy. Just do your best. I've got to get back to the kitchen."

An hour later the family was seated around the dinner table. Margaret had wolfed down her dinner and was fidgeting while she waited for the others to catch up to her. Trudy and Frank engaged in small talk about conditioning the swimming pool for the coming fall. Patricia didn't say anything and jabbed at the food on her plate with her fork.

"Your mother told me you spent the whole day packing for school," Frank said to his daughter.

"I guess so," she mumbled.

"Have you got a lot of stuff to take?"

"I dunno—I guess so," she mumbled. 

"You must be excited. Do you know who your roommate is?" 

Patricia sighed and shrugged.

Well," Frank said, "I'll be looking forward to meeting her on Thursday."

Patricia popped her head up. "Father, I thought you couldn't go. Mother said you were too busy."

"I rearranged a few things," Frank said. "You don't mind if I go with you and your mother, do you?"

"No—I mean yes—I mean, it depends if you want to," she stammered.

"I wouldn't miss it. I know a place about half-way where we can stop and have lunch."

Patricia regained her composure. "Sure, okay," she said. "That is, if you want to."

"That's what I want," Frank confirmed.

Patricia ate a few bites and then put down her fork. She looked at her mother. "Can I save this for later?" she asked. "I want to e-mail my roommate." Trudy nodded and Patricia jumped out of her chair. 

Margaret gave her father an expectant look. "You can be excused, too." She disappeared from view.

"What's with these girls?" Frank asked. "They retired from doing the dishes?" 

Trudy chuckled. "That's okay. I'll take care of it tonight. Patricia's happy. How'd you manage the quick turnaround?"

"I called Aaron Fishman at home while I was upstairs and you were down here cooking. I asked him to come in at seven today and tomorrow. That'll give us more time to get the forecast going."

"That was nice of him," Trudy said.

"Yeah, he probably doesn't realize that we'll be working late, too. I thought I'd let him figure that out when he saw it getting dark outside."

"You mean, you let the workers have windows?"

We've come a long way since I was his age, Trudy."

"I knew you'd come through for her, Frank."

"We'll have to drive back Thursday night. We won't be able to stay over."

Trudy looked at Frank. Her eyes were glistening. "I never doubted it for a moment.

***************** 

TO BE CONTINUED...



The Brass Statuettes Ch. 16



Chapter 16 Doubt and Certainty

Frank ran into Aaron the morning in the lobby while he was waiting for the elevator.

"Thanks for coming in early, Aaron." His protégé shrugged. "You're a real lifesaver." "I'd like to take my daughter to Austin on Thursday and help her get her things into her dorm. It's a big deal—first time living away from home, and all. You'll see someday."

"Don't worry about it," Aaron mumbled. "Glad I could help you." The bell rang and the elevator door slid open. The two men stepped in. 

"How's your wife holding up? Did you tell her about our conversation about the FBI?"

"Naomi? More or less, I guess. She's still nervous, but she's willing to wait a while longer to see what happens."

"Just keep your cool. Things will work out. If something happens and you need to make a move, I'll give you the word," Frank promised.

"Okay," Aaron said. He pressed the six button. "I want to get some things from my desk before I come upstairs," he said as he stepped out of the elevator car. "I'll see you up there in a few minutes."

"You can have coffee up there," Frank replied as the elevator door closed.

When Frank stepped off the elevator on the Executive Floor he saw Floyd standing in front to the glass wall of the reception area looking at him. 

"Mr. Bennett, you're always an early bird, but this a first," Floyd said as Frank walked into the area. "I heard the elevator bell. I couldn't imagine who it could be." 

"Got to get an early start on the forecast," Frank told him. "I've got personal business on Thursday, so I've got to buy some time today and tomorrow."

"It's never done, is it?" Floyd sympathized as they made their way to Frank's office.

"You mean work, or personal business?" Frank bantered back. Floyd laughed. "The answer is 'yes' to both," Frank said. 

Floyd unlocked Frank's door. "I'll bring you some coffee when it's finished brewing," he promised. "Should be about five minutes."

"Would you mind bringing an extra one? I've got Aaron Fishman in here with me. He's down on the sixth floor getting some things out of his desk right now."

"Sure," Floyd answered. "Is he the same young man who worked up here with you the last time?" Frank nodded. "He must've done a good job."

"He wouldn't be on his way up here if he hadn't," Frank answered.

"I'm surprised," Floyd said, "him bein' under suspicion by the FBI, and all."

"What're you talkin' about, Floyd? Who in the hell told you that?"

Floyd took a step backward. His eyes opened wide. "Sorry, Mr. Bennett. I meant no offense."

"Forget that," Frank demanded. "I just want to know who said that."

"Well, I just saw him in and out of the office those FBI fellas were using. I just thought..." 

"I didn't ask for a line of baloney, Floyd. I asked where you got that information." Floyd opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He started shaking his head and holding up his hands as if to say 'I don't know'. "Give it up!" Frank shouted. He'd never yelled at Floyd before.

"It was...it was..." Floyd began to say, but then stopped.

"Out with it!"

"Mr. Bennett, I don't know how to say this," Floyd pleaded.

"Don't figure out how; just tell me, goddammit."

"It was Miss Jeannette," Floyd said, nearly breaking down into tears. "We were just chattin'. I don't think she meant anything by it."

"Jeannette?" Frank gasped. "Are you sure?" Floyd's statement stunned him. He had thoroughly expected it to be Jason Lowell. "Of course not," he corrected himself, "when would a guy like Jason have anything to say to Floyd?"

Frank staggered to the chair behind his desk and dropped into it. "I would have never thought..."

"Please don't tell her I said anything," Floyd begged. "Like I said, I don't think she meant anything by it. You know how people get talkin' and like to trade stories. Please don't tell her."

Frank stared up at the ceiling for a second and then looked at Floyd. "Alright," he said. "I'll let you call the tune. I'll stay silent if you promise to tell me if she says anything else about this."

"Oh, I promise."

"And I mean about anything," Frank repeated. "That means about Aaron, or me, or anyone—is that clear?"



"I promise," Floyd said. "You're not going to punish her, are you?"

"I guess not," Frank said. "No one's perfect. Besides, I already said I wouldn't tell her what you said, so how could I punish her without telling her?"

"Oh, right," Floyd smiled. "You're not still mad at me, are you?"

"No, why should I be? You're just the messenger."

"Well, you sounded pretty mad a minute ago."

"That was then; this is now. I will be mad if I don't get a coffee pretty soon."

"Comin' right up!" Floyd said happily as he stepped out of the office. "Don't forget a cup for Aaron, too," Frank called after him.

******************* 

"Aaron, let's go over the assumptions for the forecast." Aaron had stepped out of the elevator just as Frank was concluding his conversation with Floyd. He waited for Frank to rattle off the economic parameters. He took a sip of the coffee that Floyd brought for him.

"It's not as good as Jeannette's," Aaron commented as he tasted Floyd's brew. "At this time of the morning, anything would be good."

Frank looked over his reading glasses as Aaron awaited the forecast dictum. He wondered to himself if Aaron had heard what had been said a few minutes ago and was fishing for information. 

"Blake Hart's group generated most of this data," Frank said. He decided to say nothing about the other subject—see what course it might take, if there was a course at all. "To start with, consider U.S. homebuilding down around thirty percent. Here is the orders estimate from the National Sales Manager. The Plant Controllers should be sending their calculations on shipments and unit costs today or tomorrow. Make a draft when you put it together and show it to Blake. He might want to shift some production."

"That means that the Sealant and Adhesive's Division is going to get clobbered," Aaron said.

"I'm afraid so," Frank said. "Assume that it will be sooner, not later. Consider the Consumer Division steady. Don't factor anything for downsizing or restructuring at this point. Let Blake come forward with that after he sees the numbers."

"It won't be pretty," Aaron said.

"It's not all bad. European and Pacific operations should contribute more because of the weak dollar."

Aaron nodded, making notes about the Euro and the Yen. "There's that reserve for the costs of the Wertheim deal that didn't come off," Aaron reminded him. "We didn't take it back into income in the last forecast. That will come in handy now."

Frank raised his hands to stop him. "At the last forecast it wasn't certain that the deal was off, so we kept in there for safe-keeping. Now, it's our secret. I want operations to put forth everything they can to deal with this. The reserve is in my hip pocket. We'll save it for the end—if we need it. So, mum's the word on that."

"Understood," Aaron assured him.

Frank leaned back in his chair and tapped his pencil on his desk. "In fact, assume the dollar stays at the same value as it is today. They can take any gains up to now. Any effect on future income, we'll deal in later. Keep their feet to the fire. Just set up your worksheets so we can factor it in later."

"Sounds good," Aaron said and then finished his coffee.

"And, of course, we have to deal with Dr. Lowell," Frank said. He regretted the sarcasm, but it was too late. "I want you to go over his projects with him. Don't fine tune it; just look for anything glaring that has to be fixed."

"That's fine with me," Aaron said and let a small laugh escape.

"Don't forget he's a Vice President of the company! What you think of him personally makes no difference." Frank warned. "When you have that put together, we can take a look at the Balance Sheet and Cash Flow Statement. The P&L is the big thing on these quarterly forecasts."

Frank picked up Aaron's empty cup and tossed it in the waste basket. It was the signal that the meeting had come to an end. "I'll try and get up to see you around four and let you know how it's going," Aaron said as he stood up. 

"Be sure you do," Frank answered. "The FBI guys are finished here for the time being, so you can use the Controller's office again. I like it better than having all this stuff out in open view in your cubicle downstairs."

"I've got a lot of work to do to set this up," Aaron said. "By the time I get that done, people will start arriving at the office and I'll be able to talk to everyone I have to."

*************** 

Something seemed not quite right to Brenda. She glanced over to Gloria sitting in the passenger's seat as they waited at a signal light on their way to the Sunrise School. Brenda spent a lot of time with Gloria, and had come to learn that she would never be able to know all of Gloria's moods—at least not in advance. New ones always seemed to appear at the most unexpected moments.

"That was quite a big step for Darlene," Brenda said. "I had my doubts at first, but when she actually got in her car to drive to San Antonio, I knew she stepped over the line."

"It was inevitable," Gloria agreed. "Jim Sweeney would never take 'maybe' for an answer. And, I know how Darlene must have felt. She had to do something to save the situation. She used the only means she had available."

"Jim has a way of making the whole thing 'fun for everyone'," Brenda added.

Gloria had a laugh at the way Brenda made her point. The light turned green and the sedan eased forward. "That's so true," she agreed. "Still, in some ways I wish it could've been worked out some other way."

"Have you ever met that wimp, Jason?" Brenda asked. "He'd never stand up for himself. It was the way it had to be. Now little Darlene's earned her wings."

"I guess I'm still a romantic after all these years," Gloria said. "Innocence lost, and all that. She was a fresh, young thing; now she's gone all the way. She's one of us."

Brenda sensed the reason for Gloria's special mood. Change was in the air. In the old days, of not too long ago, guilt could never have found a place in her mind. 

"I could've gone to San Antonio in Darlene's place," Gloria continued. "I could've talked to Jim for her—and convinced him, too. It wouldn't have been the first time, and the result would've been just the same." Gloria paused, looked out the side window of the car at nothing in particular. "I haven't been with Jim in a long time. I miss him; it would have been a good time. I wish I'd thought of it before Darlene went."

"What're you saying, Gloria?" Brenda protested. "Darlene's a big girl; she can fend for herself. You can't take care of everything for everyone. What about your innocence, anyway? I thought you and Alvin...you know."

"I know, I know," Gloria answered. "Sometimes I think that innocence is all relative. I'm just philosophizing—getting idealistic in my old age, I guess."

"Old age!" Brenda exclaimed with a hoot. "There's nothing in your shape that says 'old age'. Besides, how would you have gotten yourself down to San Antonio to meet with Jim? You know how you feel about driving; and you sure couldn't have Alvin's driver take you." 

"I'd have had you drive me. You could have helped me with Jim. If we had done that, Jason would be Company President right now," Gloria said with a laugh. 

Brenda was happy to see Gloria's mood brightening. "I'm not sure I would be willing to do that for Jason," she said, "interesting concept, though." Her comment brought another peal of laughter from Gloria. Brenda laughed, too; it was funny and reminded them both of some simpler times they'd enjoyed together. "Of course, I might have done it for myself. One never gets enough practice." They had a hearty laugh again, and Brenda nearly swerved into the oncoming lane.  

Unlike Gloria, Brenda never debated to points of idealism versus the pleasures of practicality. She gave that up when she was in college and Clinton was just coming into office. Idealism became such a mirage. She looked about and saw older grad students with promising degrees in the making and futures for the taking. Her looks gave her a leg up on the competition. She learned to separate wheat from chaff. She slept strictly with the wheat and finally filtered Blake from the rest. With him, she got what she'd bargained for, and Blake wasn't finished rendering return on her investment. She met Blake on a tennis court one day. They'd made great doubles partners—in a number of ways—and an occasional singles match was a nice diversion from time to time. Practicality ruled.

"So, what's the purpose of our visit today?" she asked Gloria.

"Just the usual," Gloria said. "I enjoy the children. Whenever I'm glum about something an hour with the children is just the thing to cheer me up."

"Those children mean a lot to you."

"It's my good side," Gloria confessed. 

"And we're not going to see Maddy?" Brenda hinted.

"You never know," Gloria answered in a sing-song voice. "I didn't ask her when I spoke to her over the phone."

"It's not something you can ask over the phone," Brenda said. "We could get a hotel room downtown, or maybe we could go back to your place."

"She's got an apartment not far from the school," Gloria said. "If she's in the mood, we could go there after school's over for the day."

"We'll find out soon enough," Brenda said. "There's the school just ahead."

She pulled into a visitors' parking place near the front door of the school. Maddy must have seen the car because she stepped out the door to greet them. She wore a wide grin, as well as the usual canvass skirt and peasant blouse. "The children are at lunch right now. They'll have art work after that." 

Brenda and Gloria followed Maddy through the front door and into her office. "I haven't seen either of you since the pool party," Maddy said.

"It was quite a flop," Gloria said. "My parties were never flops until that one. It was a first."

"More than one first," Brenda added.

"It turned out just fine in the end," Maddy corrected in her perky tone. "Better than fine, actually. So I wouldn't say it was a flop at all."

"And Alvin ended up giving you the money to hire an office girl, anyway," Brenda reminded Gloria. 

"Office Manager!" Gloria snapped at Brenda, and then put her smile back on. "Anyway, if you enjoyed the festivities that much, we'll have to do it again some time."

Maddy jutted out her lower lip and nodded slowly. She tucked her lip back in and grinned again. "Sometime real soon, I hope." The outlines of her nipples pressed through the fabric of her blouse. She leaned forward and her blouse fell away from her collarbone, exposing some delightfully round cleavage. "As soon as possible," she whispered.

Brenda didn't say anything. The surprising rebuff from Gloria stung, so she didn't want to risk another by speaking out of turn. Besides, things were progressing nicely without any further input from her. She'd set it all up in the car before she and Gloria arrived. 

"The children should be on their way to art by now. Why don't we join them?" Maddy said. They walked to the Assembly Room where easels and paints had been set up while the students were in the cafeteria. The dual-language alphabet cards were still mounted on the wall. "We already did our ABC's today," Maddy told them. "Trudy was a big hit when she was here. The children still ask about her. We do the ABC shapes just like she taught us. The children love it."

"Trudy?" Gloria mumbled, but said nothing more.

Brenda saw Gloria's eyes narrow and darken. She knew right away that it was the wrong thing to say and she felt like flogging herself for not anticipating that it might come up. She wished that the children would hurry up and get into the empty room. It would defuse Gloria, and they could get on with their visit so they could get on with other things.

Suddenly Maddy turned around. She was still smiling, but for the first time, Brenda could see something other than sweetness was beaming from her face. "I was hoping that you would bring Trudy with you today," Maddy said, in a voice just above a whisper. 

"What?" Gloria uttered. Brenda knew the storm was approaching.

"I was hoping that Trudy was with you," Maddy repeated, "and not just for ABC's. Can you think of the fantastic foursome we'd make?"

"Trudy?" Gloria repeated in a hollow voice.

"I'd just love to get her clothes off and feel those long legs around me," Maddy swooned. "What potential! What a..."

"Brenda, we're leaving!" Gloria snapped. "We can't stay. I just remembered I have an appointment. I have to get back to the house right away."

"But Gloria..." Brenda began to say. Maddy stood speechless with her mouth wide open.

"We have to go right now," Gloria insisted. She abruptly turned and marched out of the Assembly Room. Brenda looked at Maddy, who shrugged and then turned to catch up with Gloria. In less than a minute, they were in the car, pulling out of the school parking lot.

"I'm sorry, Bren," Gloria finally said.

"You don't have an appointment."

"No, I don't," Gloria confessed, "and I know you wanted to have some fun with Maddy. I just had to leave. I couldn't stand it." 

"Because of what Maddy said about Trudy? Forget it. It's just an infatuation for Maddy. Trudy would never..."

"Of course she wouldn't," Gloria retorted. "It's just that she wanted her more than me. It's always Trudy. It doesn't matter if it's ABC's, pool parties or sex. She's in my way every time I turn around."

"Only because you allow it to be that way," Brenda said. "Trudy doesn't even have an interest..."

"Even Juana likes Trudy more than me," Gloria hissed. She ground her teeth together. "I can't stand it; I hate her."

Brenda knew better than to argue. Something soothing was in order. "For what it's worth, you have me." Brenda felt a twinge of hypocrisy, but then remembered how that vice was the companion of practicality.

"Don't think I'm not thankful, Bren. Without you, I'd go crazy. We understand one another. We're both corrupted by the same things."

Brenda became silent. She disliked the comparison of herself to Gloria. 

She always considered the two of them to be complementary entities. The comparison made her uneasy.

They drove for a few minutes without saying anything. It suited Brenda, because she couldn't get the question at hand out of her mind.

"We'll have to replace Maddy," Gloria announced.

Brenda snapped her head around to look in Gloria's direction. "Gloria, you mean just because Maddy..."

"It's me, Bren," Gloria explained. "The school is the good part of me. Now, Maddy is crossing over to the bad side. I can't have the school on both sides. I couldn't handle that. I've got to keep the good side good. The bad in me always seems to take over."

Brenda let out a deep breath. Gloria was becoming more difficult to handle with each passing day. Whatever happened to some simple self-indulgent hedonism as reward for handling all the things they had to handle? In a more rational moment, she would make Gloria see the light about Maddy. 

They rode along for a while longer before stopping for a red light.

"I'm not corrupt like you," Brenda said, staring straight ahead.

Gloria turned to face Brenda and laughed. "You must be kidding. I know too much about you to let you get away with that. In some ways, you're worse than me."

"To be corrupted," Brenda explained, "you have to have a good side that can be ruined. You're corrupt. Now Darlene is, too. Not me—I never had a good side—or a bad one, either. I was always practical."

************** 

Nine o'clock rolled around on the clock. Everyone was gone for the day, even Floyd and Jeannette. Everyone, that is, except Frank and Aaron who were working late on the forecast. Frank stood at the door of the Controller's Office where Aaron was working.




The Brass Statuettes Ch. 16



"It's late. Let's pack it in and get a steak," Frank said. Aaron hesitated. "Call you wife and tell her I said that you have to."

They ended up in a restaurant Frank knew not far from the office. Frank and Aaron each nursed a scotch on the rocks. "Nice place," Aaron said.

"It's not the kind of place where the waiters wear tuxes and arrange your napkin on your lap like a doily," Frank said. "It's the best steak in town and nice and quiet."

"It's fine with me," Aaron said.

"Have any trouble when you called home?" Frank asked.

"No," Aaron replied. "My wife was surprised, that's all. She didn't think..."

"No need to explain," Frank interrupted. "She didn't think I would give a damn you were working late. She probably thought I was already gone for the day."

Aaron looked down at the table in front of him, as if the whiskey in his glass would yield some sort of oracle. "Not exactly," he mumbled.

"What d'ya mean?"

"It's nothing," he said, "not worth mentioning—and it's just her opinion, anyway."

"I don't get it, Aaron," Frank said. "You've got to tell me; you can't leave me hanging like this."

Aaron took in a breath. "Well, it's..." He hesitated again. Frank didn't say anything; just leaned forward in expectation of the rest of the answer. Aaron let out his breath. "She didn't think you'd want to be seen with someone like me."

"Hmmm, I see," Frank answered. He paused for a few seconds. "I've got a feeling that's your opinion, too." 

"Not exactly," Aaron replied.

"There are some people...you know your wife would be right in saying what she did."

"Yeah, I know."

"Aaron, you have to decide which route you're gonna take. You can expect the best from people and risk being disappointed from time to time. Or, you can be on defense at all times. Of course, there are disappointments connected with that, too."

"Yes, I suppose..."

"You're not the only one that's ever had to deal with this sort of thing," Frank said. "You know, my grandfather's last name was Bennedetto when he came to this country. He changed it, hoping it would help him get a job. He always said it was so it was easier for Americans to pronounce. I think that wasn't the only reason."

"So, did it help him get a job?" 

"No," Frank laughed. "He couldn't speak English back then. It was a dead giveaway."

Aaron laughed along with Frank and drank some whiskey.

"He did get a pretty good job, eventually. Raised a big family. He never let those early years get to him—at least that I know of. He never had a chip on his shoulder. He was better off that way."

"Okay, I get it," Aaron conceded.

"Like I said, it's up to you," Frank said. They were interrupted as the waiter came to take their order.

"This used to be a pretty unexciting company," Aaron said after the waiter left with their order. "You can't say that now.

"I could do with a lot less excitement," Frank said, "especially the type we're having."

"A lot of people are saying the company is about to be taken over."

"A lot of people are wrong," Frank replied. "Don't count on it—not right now, at least. I would fight it tooth and nail. The shareholders would never get value. After that, who knows? I'll worry about it then."

"If it wasn't for this insider trading thing, we'd be humming right along."

"It's a temporary setback," Frank said. "We'll put it behind us and get back to normal."

"What about the deal in Germany? Do you think that will ever come off?"

"You never know, but I doubt it," Frank answered. "Once these deals hiccup, they usually don't come back to life. There'll be other deals, if it's deals we want. The most important thing at the moment is to get our credibility back and get the financing for R&D. If we can do that, we'll be fine."

"There's a lot to think about," Aaron said.

Frank had enough of shop talk.

"Hey, speaking of a lot to think about, I've got a question for you," Frank said. "What d'ya think about those Astros?"

************* 

In a restaurant, just outside of Austin, Frank sat in a booth with Trudy and Patricia. In a rented minivan in the parking lot, were Patricia's belongings that she was taking to her dorm room as she began her college career. Trudy was on the cell phone checking on Margaret, who had begged her way out of the trip. It was just as well—it was Patricia's time. While Trudy was busy on the phone Frank and Patricia finished their lunches. 

"Better clean your plate," Frank warned. "It might be the last decent meal you'll get until you come home for Thanksgiving."

"Everything's alright with Margaret," Trudy piped up before Patricia had a chance to answer. "I reminded her that I didn't want anyone in the pool while we're away from the house." She folded the cell phone and stashed it her purse.

"If I know her," Patricia said, "she's still in her pajamas talking to her friends on the internet."

"No doubt she is," Frank agreed, "but you won't have to worry about that anymore, will you. You'll have plenty to keep you busy."

"I know," Patricia mumbled, in the way she always did when her father instructed her. She cast her eyes downward at her empty plate for a few seconds. "Are you telling me I can't come home until Thanksgiving?" 

"You can come home anytime you want to," Trudy answered.

"Of course," Frank agreed. "I'd bet you'll be so occupied that you won't want to leave the campus until then."

"Maybe," the daughter half-conceded.

"Take it a week at a time. If you want to come home for a visit, let us know. Just be sure to take advantage of everything that the University has to offer."

Before Patricia could reply, the cell phone rang. Trudy answered and then handed it to Frank. "It's for you; it's Jeannette."

"I wonder what it is," Frank said. "Jeannette wouldn't call if it wasn't important. He rose from his seat in the booth and took the phone to a waiting area near the entrance of the restaurant.

"Frank, I thought you should know. There's a meeting going on with all the Directors on the Finance Committee in Mr. Warner's office; Herr Mueller, Simon Lambert and all the others."

"I didn't know about any meeting," Frank said. "What about Jim Sweeney?"

"Yes, him too," Jeannette confirmed. "Mr. Crossman went in, as well."

Frank thought for a second and then heaved a sigh. "I don't know what it means. They obviously didn't want me there. There's nothing to do about it right now. Just..."

"Wait!" Jeannette interrupted. "Mr. Hart and Mr. Smith are heading in that direction, too."

"The only thing to do is wait it out, Jeannette. Keep track of who goes in and fill me in tomorrow morning. If they come looking for me, they know where to find me. In the meantime, not a word to anyone."

"Right, Frank."

"Thanks for the call. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Trouble at the office?" Trudy asked when Frank returned to the table. 

"No," he replied. "It was just an accounting question." 

"Oh," Trudy grunted and glanced at Frank for a few seconds. He didn't see her. He was looking over the check that the waitress brought to the table while he was on the phone. 

Frank looked at Patricia. "Ready to go to college?"

******************** 

The sun was behind Trudy and Frank as they drove back to Houston that evening. It was after three before Patricia checked into her dorm and they lugged all her things up three floors. By the time they looked around the campus, and Patricia was pleading for them to leave, it was closing in on five-thirty in the afternoon.

"You must be tired," Trudy said. "Want me to drive for a while?"

"I'm forty-two, not eighty-two," Frank teased back. "I'll let you know."

"Okay—okay," Trudy laughed. "Just make sure you don't spend all your energy driving." 

"It's too bad we can't stay over," he said with a sigh. "I just don't have the time to spare from the office right now."

Trudy patted him on the thigh. "Don't worry; we'll be home before ten, even if we stop to eat." She sat back and relaxed in the passenger's seat. "I'll bet Margaret would tell us to stay out as long as we want—but she'll have to be disappointed," she added and then laughed again. "I'll call and check on her on the cell phone a little later."

They sped along on I-10, watching the scenery pass by. Neither of them said anything for a few minutes. Trudy fumbled with the radio dial on the rented van hoping, to find a station with some of her kind of music. 

"You know, Trudy," Frank finally said, "sometime soon, when we have time we could take a trip. We could drive right around the whole state. We'd start at Houston, stop at San Antonio, over to El Paso..."

"That sounds nice, Frank, but you're not thinking about touring around Texas in a minivan. You're trying to find a way to tell me about Jeannette's call during lunch."

Frank looked at Trudy. "How does she always know before I tell her?"

"It doesn't look good, Trudy. You better be ready for anything. We might have some time on our hands to take that trip." 

"What could have happened in the space of a single day?"

"Beats me; there was a meeting today in Alvin's office with all the members of the Finance Committee. I should have been there, but I didn't even know it was going to take place. It's hard to take that as good news."

"But Frank, you haven't done anything wrong. They've got to give you a chance..."

"Things aren't always fair, Trudy. They might think by shedding me it would be a chance to hit the recycle button—get a fresh start. I don't agree, but..."

"So, you figure to throw in the sponge and take a drive around Texas?"

"It's not like that Trudy. It might be already decided. Anyway, it's not like we'd be out of money, or anything. They'd pay off my contract and..."

"Listen to me, Frank," Trudy answered in her stern voice. "I know care about the money. And I really don't care at all about the status or fitting in with Gloria's crowd. It's you, Frank. You never give up. If you do, you'll never get over it. You have to fight it out all the way. Then, either way it comes out, things will be okay."

Frank laughed and shook his head. "Trudy, you know me better than I know myself."

"I've had plenty of practice," she countered.

"Does that mean that if I fight it out and they can me anyway, we can take that trip around the state?"

Trudy gave out a hearty laugh. "I'd like to think about a riverboat trip up the Mississippi and back," she said as she patted his thigh. "That would be nice, but it'll never happen. We'll never have the time. You're going to win."

Frank stole a glance at her as he drove. He reached across to her seat and patted her leg. "Trudy, I feel better already."

************** 

TO BE CONTINUED

Dear Readers,

Thanks for reading. I hope you're enjoying the story. Don't forget to send me your comments.

Good reading and best regards,

AW



The Brass Statuettes Ch. 17



Chapter 17 The Price of Our Vanities

Jim Sweeney was the last of the group to take his seat. There were seven of them gathered around the table in Alvin's office. Sweeney was the Chairman; he called the meeting to order.

"I want it on the record that I don't like calling this meeting behind Frank's back," he declared after completing the preliminaries.

"Alright, you are on ze record," Herr Mueller snapped back. "Unt now vee get on vit it, ja?"

"Get on with what?" Alvin asked. "This was just to be a discussion session."

"I dit not fly across ze ocean for dees-cussion," Mueller retorted. "I haf call for action."

"What action is that, Detlef?" Lambert asked.

"Feerst, I vant it unterstood zat if ze Wertheim merger vas not lost, zis vood haf not bin necessary." 

"So, this is sour grapes over Wertheim?" Sweeney said with an exasperated sigh. "It wasn't the right time. There'll be other opportunities. We have to be patient."

"Patient? I vas patient. Ze deal vas set—un-teel Frank Bennett broke it apart."

"You were patient to a fault, Detlef," Lambert agreed.

"Now, just a minute," Sweeney insisted. He turned to Alvin. "You approved the shelving of the registration. It was for good reasons." 

"Well, I did," Alvin confirmed, "on Frank's say-so. It seemed like the logical thing to do at the time. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty."

"Look where we are now," Lambert pointed out. "I'm not saying that Frank was all wrong, but no one can say that we're not at a standstill. We can't go on like this much longer. We've got to think of the shareholders."

"The major players are holding firm," Sweeney said. "I've spoken with Frank about this several times. He has a plan; he's putting it in place; he'll have us back on track very soon once Al, here, gets the SEC off our back."

"Plan! Acch!" Mueller scoffed and waved his hand at Sweeney in disgust.

"We were supposed to have a hearing on Wednesday. The judge postponed until Monday," Al Crossman told them. "The SEC lawyers couldn't make it down until then."

"That seems like a big favor to them from the judge," Alvin said.

"Never mind zat!" Mueller thundered over them. "I haf deef-rent plan."

"Different plan?" Alvin asked. "What kind of plan?"

"I haf —how do you say?—consortium," Mueller told them. "My bank vill provide finance. Vee haf four persons to buy surplus shares of Vestern in ze market. Zee de-mand vill increase ze share price, ja. Zen SEC can go to hell."

"Just who are these four persons?" Sweeney demanded.

"We have to check the regulations on that," Crossman warned. "You can't take control of a company without registering with the SEC. It could be considered market manipulation."

"Zeese peoples vill be known only to me until ze proper moment," Mueller replied. "Let me assure all zat no one person vill own more zen five percent. Vee haf checked dis."

"It might be deemed a conspiracy," Crossman insisted. "The government could treat all four as a single person.

"Perhaps in America, but vee are in Germany. Undt, as I said, ze problems of ze stock price vill be solved."

Crossman looked at the others and shrugged.

"This is nothing but strong-arm through the back door," Sweeney protested. "I think we should adjourn this meeting right now." He crossed his arms and shot a glance Alvin's way in search of support.

"I think we should, at least hear him out," one of the directors said. It was one of those who had been silent. He was A. Bartlett Dodge, head of a large private foundation. "We have to think of the shareholders and this would prop up the price and solve a lot of problems."

"That could only be a temporary..." Sweeney began to say.

"Wait a minute," Alvin interrupted. "Where would we enter in the course of this scheme, Detlef?"

"A good question," another Finance Committee Director added. It was Randall Trainor, a retired insurance company chairman. "I think we haven't heard everything, yet."

"So right, Herr Trainor," Mueller confessed. "Z'ere is no deal unless vee replace Frank Bennett."

"This is blackmail!" Sweeney shouted.

"I repeat; Bennett is out," Mueller said, ignoring Sweeney. He sat back, his arms crossed over his chest. 

"But why?" Alvin asked. 

"It was Frank's fault that we lost the stock issue," Lambert reminded them. 

"He was always against the Wertheim deal," Dodge added.

"He was doing his job," Sweeney retorted, "and doing it well, too."

"Bennett is out," Mueller confirmed, "undt zen vee move into ze EU."

"We need a better presence in the EU," Lambert argued. "It was our strategy all along."

The meeting began breaking down. Several private conversations erupted. 

"Let's have order," Sweeney yelled out. The room went silent. "First of all, Al's got something to say."

Crossman cleared his throat. "I have doubts about the legality of this whole thing. I have to advise everyone here to keep silent on this until the proper legal research can be done. Any action taken now would be extremely risky."

"We'd have to bring it to the whole Board," Alvin cautioned. "It would have to be explained to them."

Legal research performed by your firm, no doubt," Dodge said.

Crossman raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything. 

Sweeney seized the opportunity. "Well then, we'll adjourn; and let the record show that there was discussion only with no agreement, and no action was taken, on advice of counsel."

"Let me state vone zing," Mueller declared. "Z'ere is little time. Bennett must go, and zen we move into Urope!"

"Well, if you want Bennett gone, I suppose you want me out, too?" Sweeney said.

"Ja, ja"

"Come on, come on," Alvin soothed. "Let's go have a few drinks and some lunch. We'll all feel better."

"Nein," answered Mueller. "I have a flight."

*************** 

After the meeting adjourned only Jim Sweeney, Al Crossman and Alvin remained seated at the conference table. They decided to order lunch into the office instead of going up to the Executive Dining Room with Lambert, Trainor and Dodge.

"I don't like this, not one bit," Sweeney said. "I don't like going behind a man's back and not give him a chance to defend himself."

"I don't like it either," Alvin said, "but you have to admit that this SEC thing has this company tied in knots and this could be an easy way out."

"I wouldn't underestimate Mueller," Crossman cautioned. "There's no doubt that it's skirting the edges of legality., Herr Mueller's smart enough to know that he's got to keep his legal bases covered. He's probably hired a sharp law firm to help him. He's got the attention of Lambert and Dodge, and I think Trainor is on the fence.."

"Why are we pussy-footing around with him?" Sweeney asked. "Why don't we just cut it off now?"

"I just thought I'd advise you to keep options open," Crossman said. "Let's see how far these guys are willing to go. They seem very eager to put their money in—and that would be a big help to us right now."

"It could develop a momentum all its own," Alvin mused. "If they think the door is still slightly open, they could get impatient and dump their money in without the Board's backing. What is there to stop them?"

"You might have to let Frank go, anyway," Crossman reasoned. "It would be crazy to turn this deal down and then dump him. Let's get some mileage out of it, if it comes to that."

"I'm behind Frank on this," Sweeney declared.

"Everyone is expendable," Alvin grumbled. 

"Just think on this," Sweeney countered. "If Mueller gets his way it won't be long before you're out and this company's headquarters is in Frankfurt."

"Not until they pay off big, so I don't give a damn," Alvin said. "And that goes for all the shareholders, too. That's what we're supposed to do, protect the interests of the shareholders."

"Well, I still don't like it," Sweeney said.

"We should bring the key officers in on this. That'd be Tyler Smith and Blake Hart," Alvin said. "The last thing we'd want is for rumors to start flying and have them jump to conclusions. We'll need them on our side—especially if Frank's head goes on the chopping block."

"Okay; just don't let on about the Frank thing," Crossman said. "They don't need to worry about something that doesn't officially exist—at least not yet."

************* 

Frank arrived early at the office the following day, determined to confront Alvin about the secret meeting. He expected to see Floyd waiting for him at the entrance to the Executive suite, but found a substitute in his place. The morning had started out bad already and he didn't expect it to get any better.

There was a note from Aaron on his desk saying he was ready to review the first draft of the forecast.  Frank nodded. "That guy's right on the ball," he said to himself. He thought about going down to the employee cafeteria and getting a coffee to go. Instead, he dialed Aaron's number.

"Hey, Aaron; why don't you come up to my office now and go over those numbers? Stop and get us a couple of coffees on your way up. Floyd isn't in and Jeannette won't be here for another hour. I don't think I can hold out that long."

While he waited for Aaron he wrote a note to Jeannette and left it on her desk: "Jeannette—please get me on Alvin's calendar ASAP."

He'd been pondering the reason for the secret meeting ever since Jeannette's call the day before. Someone wanted him excluded from whatever was going on, and that meant excluded from his job, too. It would have had to have been someone at the highest level. He ruled Jim Sweeney out. He would have ruled Alvin out until recently. Frank thought Alvin looked old and tired. He could imagine Alvin going along with it in a weak moment, but just couldn't bring himself to believe that it would be him who would get it started. That left Detlef Mueller, and that made a lot of sense.

Aaron appeared in the doorway. He was carrying two styrofoam coffee cups from the cafeteria and several folders wedged under his arm. "I'm ready when you are," he said as he walked into the office. He marched in and set the coffee and the folders on Frank's conference table. 

"Ahh!, Accountant's blood transfusion," Frank said as he opened the lid on a cup and then took a sip. "What do I owe you?"

"On me today," Aaron replied.

Frank took another sip from his steaming cup. "What vitamins are in coffee, anyway? When I was your age, I could live on it for days."

"I don't know," Aaron said. "I don't think there are many, especially if you drink it black. Maybe..."

"Never mind, Aaron. It's just one of my old jokes." Aaron failed to crack a smile. "It looks like it's older than I thought."

Aaron opened one of the folders and handed Frank a draft of about ten pages stapled together. 

"Tell me the good news first," Frank said.

"It's like you said, the Euro-Pac divisions are coming in stronger after converting to US dollars. It's offsetting the bad news."

"Which is..."

"The US units are going to be in for it, especially Adhesives and Sealants. Consumer Products is flat. The Industrial Polymers Division is holding up, but it isn't big enough to offset the others."

"No big mystery there. What does Blake want to do?"

"He has a plan to shut down Texas City for maintenance and modernization and shift all production to Bayonne."

"What if the downturn lasts longer than that?" Frank asked.

"He wants to do the same thing in reverse."

The trouble is, we can't be sure when the home-building industry might rebound. It's so open ended; and that maintenance program is going to cost a lot of money. He'll have to move some equipment up to Bayonne to pull it off. And, when he's done he'll have to move it back again."

"Unit costs go way down with the Bayonne Plant up to full capacity. Margins go up and help offset the overall volume loss."

"Pricing?" Frank asked.

"No pricing action assumed in the model," Aaron said. "Since the Bayonne plant is expected to run full out, there didn't seem to be any sense in pricing cuts."

"Good—good," Frank said, "the sales force won't like it, but it makes perfect sense."

"Mr. Hart wants to know if he should build a contingency plan in case the downturn extends past the maintenance cycle," Aaron reported.

"Definitely yes," Frank said. "It'll have to be Bayonne. We promised to maintain a certain number of jobs in Texas City according to our tax abatement deal with the State. Any major layoffs there and we'll lose more tax benefits than we'll save costs."


"The Texas City plant is more efficient than Bayonne, anyway," Aaron added.

"Good thinking on that," Frank commented. "One last thing, be sure to get the tax provision right. It gets tricky with changing exchange rates. Get Charley White in the Tax Department to take a long look at it. We could be dead nuts above the line and lose it all below. It won't matter to Wall Street. To them, it's just EPS."

Jeannette knocked at the door. "Two coffees?" she asked.

"I'm just leaving," Aaron said. "Thanks, just the same." He gathered up his papers into the folder. 

"Leave me with this," Frank said, holding up his copy of the Draft Forecast. "I'll probably have more comments later. I'll call you." Aaron nodded and left the office.

"Mr. Warner isn't in the office today, Frank," Jeannette said. "He's in Austin at his lecture series at the University."

"Lecture series?" Frank asked.

"It's the 'Distinguished Lecturer Series'," Jeannette explained. "UT invited him to give a series of lectures at the Business and Engineering Colleges. They invite a half-dozen executives each year."

"Great!" Frank exclaimed. "I wanted to speak with him about the secret meeting yesterday. He's down there playing professor."

"If it's any help, Mr. Sweeney called and asked if you could clear some time for him. He was calling from his car. He should be here any minute."

"That helps a lot," Frank said. "Hold all my calls when he gets here." 

********** 

Jeannette brought the coffee into the office and set it on the table. Jim Sweeney followed her in and sat in one of the stuffed chairs. "Do you need anything else, Mr. Bennett?" she asked. 

Frank looked at Jim, who shook his head. "No thanks, Jeannette." She left the office. Frank turned to Sweeney who was staring out the window. "Jim, this must be serious. It's the first time you've been here that you didn't have your eyes glued to my secretary's backside."

"That's what happens when you get old, Frank. You forget to enjoy things like that when you have your mind on something else."

"You must be here about the secret meeting in Alvin's office yesterday," Frank said.

"Exactly!" Sweeney replied, stabbing the air with his finger in Frank's direction. "So you found out about it?"

"Sure, Jeannette called me while it was going on."

"She's one hell of a secretary, Frank."

"So, you do have Jeannette on your mind, after all," Frank laughed.

"Well, guilty, I suppose," Sweeney confessed. "Even more important, we have to talk about what went on in that meeting yesterday."

"I wanted to speak to Alvin about it," Frank said. "He's off on a trip to Austin."

"I know," Jim replied. "I don't think Alvin intended it that way, but it kind of shows you where you stand. One of the Directors is on a mission to kick you out and Alvin is sitting on the fence with Crossman whispering in his ear. He figures to offer you up as a sacrificial lamb at the right time. I wouldn't feel very good right now, if I were you."

"It all adds up," Frank said. "I knew that Mueller was burned up about the Wertheim deal going south. I'm disappointed by Alvin. I thought he would support me. At least, I think it was right for me to expect that."

"So, you figured out it was Mueller. He says he has four investors lined up to acquire Western stock to support the price. His bank is going to do the financing."

"Sure," Frank said, "and take control of the company in the process. I don't think he can legally do that."

"He says it's no-go unless you're out," Jim told him.

"We'll have to see about that. There's something about Mueller's deal that doesn't make sense. If they're serious, why don't they just take control and then fire me? Why impose the pre-condition?"

"Good point!" Jim said. "Could be, it's a bluff." 

"We'll have to call that bluff when it comes time," Frank said. "I know I'm repeating myself; what really disappoints me is Alvin."

Jim said. "Don't be too angry at Alvin. He's just looking for an easy way out of the mess we're in. In fact, if push comes to shove, he could line up on either side."

"I understand," Frank said. "What's wrong is that Alvin is supposed to be stronger than that. He's letting Al Crossman do his thinking for him. If Mueller thought Alvin was in charge, he wouldn't even try this."

Sweeney shrugged. "So, are you gonna stay and fight it out? I wouldn't blame you if you up and quit."

"No quitting!" Frank declared. "I can't guarantee that I won't get burned to a crisp. They'll have to beat me. I won't let them scare me out."

"That's what I was hoping you would say," Sweeney said, slapping his knee in delight. "How d'ya figure on handling it."

Frank leaned back in his chair. "I'll need you behind me, Jim." Sweeney gave a swift nod of assent. Frank paused again, turning options over in his mind. "Someone has to go," Frank said. "It will be either Mueller or me. And we can't let any players sit on the fence. Sooner or later, Alvin will have to support me or fire me."

"Keep your eye on Crossman," Sweeney advised. "If he lets up, Alvin will jump on your bandwagon. Don't worry about the other directors. Leave them to me."

"A visit to some of the big shareholders seems like a good idea," Frank said. "Murray Shoreham owes me a lunch."

"We'll beat this thing," Sweeney proclaimed. "If we can keep the share price up as much as possible it will make it harder for Mueller's people to acquire shares. They're gonna have to do it a little bit at a time if they want to accumulate the numbers that they need without drawing attention. Doing it from Europe won't make it any easier." 

"If there is such a thing as a Mueller consortium," Frank reminded him. "Let's see what the market is doing now." Frank went to his desk and turned on the computer monitor. He maneuvered the mouse for a few seconds. "Very interesting, he mumbled.

"What gives?" Sweeney asked.

"Western stock is up a point and a half. A big block traded a half hour ago."

"Goddam! Mueller's started already," Sweeney cursed.

"Maybe not, Jim," Frank answered. "I think something else is going on."

"Whaddya mean?"

"I think someone is buying shares to cover their short-selling. Remember—that's what got this whole mess started. Take a look."

Sweeney jumped out of his chair and joined Frank at the monitor. "You could be right," he gasped. "If you are, you know what that means. Whoever..."

"That's right," Frank finished the thought. "Whoever just bought that block of shares was in that meeting yesterday. They're covering their shorts now before Mueller's people drive the price up. Find the buyer and you'll find the inside trader."

"We're gonna win, Frank," Sweeney proclaimed. "A final battle for an old warrior. I'm grateful."

****************** 

Brenda had on her exercise leotard and was sitting at Gloria's kitchen table eating a half-grapefruit. Juana served them coffee and Brenda sensed unease in the maid's manner. Gloria was dressed in her leotard, too. After pouring the coffee, Juana left the room.

"Thanks for coming today, Bren," Gloria said. "I promised Raul. It's a sales lead for him. He'll want to sign you up. It's a consolation prize for not taking the Deluxe Workout in so long. I hate to lose him."

"Exercise boys are a dime-a-dozen, Gloria," Brenda said. "If he doesn't like it the way things are you can find someone else."




The Brass Statuettes Ch. 17



"No one's like Raul," Gloria countered.

"Do you mean with the Deluxe Workout or Regular?"   

"Either way; he seems to have a knack with me."

"I thought you had something going on with Alvin. Keeping Raul around can only put that in danger."

"I knew you might say that," Gloria snapped in anger. "I hoped you wouldn't. I thought you knew the way things are; I thought you knew better."

Gloria's rebuke stung Brenda like a slap on her face. Brenda regretted the comment. It served to remind her that kindness was a cheap commodity, capable of gaining only the easy-to-come-by things. "I was only telling you that as a friend, Gloria. I'm sorry if I angered you."

It occurred to Brenda that her apology was cheap, as well—just like kindness. They were only good for soothing feelings, and experience taught that they were the commonest of easy-to-come-by things. What irritated Brenda most was that she had forgotten the lesson. "She can have it her way, if that's what she wants," she uttered silently to herself.

"Oh Brenda, I've hurt your feelings again," Gloria whined. "I really don't understand myself sometimes. You're the only friend I've got and I always seem to ruffle your feathers more than anyone else's."

"It's okay, Gloria. I only thought..."

"Sure, it's dangerous having Raul here. I think that's why I like it. It feels like any moment I might lose control of myself and give into him; and then something exciting would happen to me—something that I can't predict or control. I could be swept away at any moment and not be able to stop. I think that I like being on the narrow edge."

"Perhaps you just want to make sure you have a backup in case Alvin disappoints you," Brenda suggested.

"Well, Alvin's been very preoccupied by work lately."

"If I were you, I'd tell Alvin to retire and ride off into the sunset with him. Forget all this; leave it behind—before Raul destroys it for you."

"That means that I would have to retire, too," Gloria shot back. "I'm not ready for that big ride into the sunset—not yet, anyway. Besides, I've had Raul around here for three years and Alvin's still here, too."

"So, you're not afraid to play with fire. Are you afraid to be lonely?" 

"I don't know; I don't know," Gloria replied. "Let's not talk about it. C'mon, we'll go out and start stretching in the mini-gym."

"And I don't know, either, why I keep telling myself not to give a damn, but never listen," Brenda thought as she walked with Gloria across the veranda to the gym.

Gloria and Brenda were loosening up when they heard a knock on the door.

"Señora Warner, it is Raul."

He opened the door and stepped into the gym. "Raul, I have a guest today—like I promised last time," Gloria said as she opened the door to him.

"Si, Señora' I remember."

"This is my friend, Señora Hart."

"Ees a pleasure, Señora Hart. Raul plucked Brenda's hand lightly in his fingers and kissed it as though he was a Spanish don. He took a second longer than necessary before releasing it. Out of the corner of her eye Brenda saw Gloria watching them and she could tell she wasn't pleased.

"Close the door, Raul," Gloria scolded. "Let's get started."

"Si, Señora," Raul said, "but I have a surprise, too." He stepped halfway out the door and whispered something. He stepped back inside, followed by a youth who looked frightened.

"Ees my—how do you say—primo," Raul told them. "Ahh—Cousin!" he exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "Ees my cousin, Miguel." He paused to give Brenda and Gloria a chance to look him over.

It was hard to tell how old the man-boy actually was. He was taller than Raul, but less filled out. He wore white trousers and a polo shirt, just as Raul, that were too short and too baggy. His straight, black hair made his tan skin appear even darker than it was. He kept looking down at the floor, stealing glances at the women and at Raul.

"Raul, why is he dressed that way?" Gloria asked. "Did you loan him your clothes?"

"Si, Señora Warner. Miguel ees een dees country only two days. He ees from Chiapas; from a tiny village d'ere. Hees madre say when he turns eighteen he can come to Estados Unidos. So, 'ere 'e ees now."

Miguel, why are you so shy?" Brenda asked.

"Miguel speak no Inglés," Raul explained.  "Well, why is he so shy, Raul?" Gloria asked.

"I teenk ees dee tight clothes of you an' Señora Hart. Miguel's village ees very small. He does not know woman. Maybe he has—how you say—man-feelings dat 'e does not know before now."

Gloria's eyes widened. 

"I hope ees okay to bring Miguel today," Raul pleaded.

Gloria looked at Miguel, starting from the top of his head and ended at his shoes. Brenda knew that look. 

"You mean to tell me that you brought this young virgin-boy to my gym?" she gasped.   Her eyes fixed on Miguel. "Is he just for me? Raul, this is too good to be true!"

Brenda noted the youth's fearful look an rapid breath as Gloria's eyes poured over him. She took a step closer. Her body touched his and he jumped back a half step. She changed course and put a sweet smile on her face. "Tell him not to worry, Raul. Tell him to sit on the massage table."

"No se anguste; asientarse aya," Raul spoke in a stern voice to the boy. He looked at Raul and hesitated. Raul nodded when he looked at the massage table with the leather pads and the boy obediently hopped onto it. Gloria slowly approached him. She grasped his belt buckle and began to undo it. He was afraid again; he cast a fearful look in Rual's direction, but said nothing.

"Don't worry, my little baby," Gloria warbled. "When it's over, I'll bring you some milk and cookies."

"¿Que?" the boy muttered and turned to Raul for help.

"Va darle galletas y leche fria," Raul told the boy.  

"First, the shirt has to go," Gloria said as she ignored the Spanish banter. She grasped the bottom hem and began to lift it over Miguel's head.

"¡Raul!" the boy pleaded, barely above a whisper.

"¡Descansar y disfrute!" Raul commanded. His voice had turned harsh. He had lost his patience. "Señora Warner, I can get dee condom for heem."

"No need," Gloria answered. "After all, he's a virgin. I don't need to worry about anything." She finished lifting the shirt off him and threw it aside. "Raul, why don't you take Brenda over to the sofa and keep her busy while I attend to this little boy?"

Brenda was already standing by the leather couch when she felt Raul behind her. She didn't turn around to look at him. His hands were at the neckline of her leotard. She could tell they were practiced hands. The thin fabric was peeling away, down from her shoulders. She felt coolness on her breasts and she knew that he had stripped her to the waist.

"Shall we sit on the sofa, Señora?" he asked.

"No, I want to watch," Brenda replied.

She stood still, watching Gloria and the boy called Miguel on the massage table. Brenda expected to feel Raul's hands pulling the skin-tight leotard down over her hips and then down her legs. She didn't, and for an instant she nearly turned to see what he was doing, but stopped herself. She didn't care. Then, she heard the clink of a belt buckle and realized she would have a few more seconds to watch Gloria work. While she watched, she peeled the leotard the rest of the way and tossed aside.

Miguel was stripped of all his clothes. He lay on his back on the massage table. His erection stood straight up from his body. Gloria caressed it from the root to the tip with a soft hand. Miguel gasped. 

"I usually don't do this—especially on the first date," Gloria giggled. She began to climb on the table with him. "Oops, I mustn't get anything messy on my leotard." She quickly peeled the garment away. She was nude, just as Miguel, who remained flat on his back on the table, looking at Gloria like a patient watching a surgeon approaching. 

Brenda felt her breasts come to rest in Raul's palms as he grasped her from behind. His penis was hard like Miguel's. She felt it pressing against her. Raul was about her height. Most men were taller and pressed against the small of her back. Raul pressed against her at a lower place. It felt good. She grasped his arms that he had wrapped around her as she watched Gloria, who was on the table, kneeling between Miguel's spread thighs.

"Like I said," Gloria sang in a lilting voice, "I don't usually do this—hell, Raul's still waiting—but this is special." She went to all fours, hovering over him. Her palms lay flat on the table for support. She lowered her torso to allow her breasts to play on the erection. The youth hesitated and then grasped the flesh and sandwiched himself between them. Gloria pulled away. She knelt over him, staring down at what she desired. She bent low again grasped him around the buttocks. He moaned loudly as she took his whole length into her mouth and then her throat.

Raul released one of Brenda's breasts and had placed it on her vulva. A digit began pressing her special spot and she relaxed into her own thoughts.. "This guy really knows what he's doing."  It felt good—better than good. Brenda thrust her pelvis into the pressure and she felt even better. The sweet sensation was taking her over; she decided then that she would allow herself a release. "You'll need a condom," she said without turning to speak to him. She said it just in time, before she passed the point of not giving a damn. She would be there soon.  His hands released her and coolness spread over her back where warm skin had been. It was just as well. She wanted to see Gloria make Miguel come. Then she would be ready.

By the time Raul rejoined her it had happened. It hadn't taken Gloria long, bobbing up and down, to bring the boy's cry of pleasure and surprise. His release was pouring down Gloria's throat. His first semen and his innocence belonged to her forever. 


"I'm ready," Brenda informed Raul, who was pressing again from behind. She moved back a step and took her place on the couch. She figured Raul to be the kind who would last as long as she needed; he had done such a masterful job arousing her. She knew that Gloria wasn't done with her initiation, but it would be a while before she had the young novice ready again. By that time she and Raul would be finished and she could watch Gloria mount him. 

Brenda looked up at Raul, who stood dutifully next to the couch waiting for a signal. She gave it by spreading her legs and stretching her arms out to accept him. He settled down on top of her. She noted that he was lighter than most men, and that would be a welcome change. Raul tried to kiss her, but she turned her face away. He buried his face in her breast, instead. 

"I wonder if he can tell the difference between Gloria's and mine," she asked herself as he suckled them. To Brenda, it seemed that he liked them and didn't tire of them, as some men did once she granted them access. 

"Put it in me. I'm quite ready," she commanded.

Raul lifted his head up and slid higher on her. She could feel him probing, latex on skin. Brenda lifted a leg over the back of the couch. It helped Raul find his mark. Just a little part of him went in at first. He wasted no time. He pushed forward and he entered her all the way.

Raul eased himself slowly out of her, and then a long journey back inside. He raised himself up on his elbows, a real gentleman.

"Never mind that," Gloria whispered in his ear. She threw her arms around him and crushed him down to her. "Hump me hard!"

Raul growled and she felt his hips thrust forward and his body advanced through her. "Ahh, that's it!" she moaned in exultation. Her cries urged him on. He exerted himself even harder. Brenda tightened herself around him and thrust back. Repeat! Repeat! Repeat! The engine turned faster. She felt orgasm speeding on its way, and then it crashed down on her.

She didn't know how long it took Raul to bring her off. It couldn't have been very long—it had been so intense. When it was done, they lay together panting, each covered in one's own sheen of sweat. She felt him oozing out of her.

"Get up," she ordered, "before that thing comes off and you leak inside me." Raul obeyed.

After Raul got off her, Brenda stood just in time to see Gloria hovering over Miguel. He was aroused again.

"My little baby," Gloria purred in a sing-song voice. "Gloria's going to put you inside her now." The man-child was appearing less fearful than he had a short time ago. He flexed his hips upward.

"No, no" Gloria chirped as if talking to a newborn. "Let Gloria do it for you."

She reached down and positioned him at the entrance of her vagina. "Get ready," she sang. She had a sublime look on her face, as if she thought the impending pleasure could carry her soul to a far off place. She promptly sank down on him. She gasped in a portion of air and slowly released it. She sat straight up, holding her breasts and gasped again as she impaled him even deeper. 

She was staring, but not looking at anything. She began to move up and down—at a slow pace at first and then faster. "Oh, my little boy," she whispered, "put a baby inside Gloria." Her breasts bounced, even as she held them. Miguel began to groan and thrust back at her. It was apparent that his orgasm was close at hand.

"Yes, yes," Gloria breathed, scarcely louder than a whisper. Brenda heard her. Miguel cried out, and Brenda knew that he was emptying himself inside her. It was then that Gloria's face lost all expression. If her eyes had not been open, Brenda would have thought that she had passed out. Then, in an instant, she opened her mouth wide, sat rigid and still. She burst forth a single, loud cry of ecstasy. Then, she collapsed on the young boy's chest—breasts and all—panting deeply as she awaited her recovery. In a few minutes, she dismounted and plodded wordlessly to the bathroom.

Brenda had watched it all. She hadn't yet bothered to put her leotard back on. Movement off to the side got her attention and she spied Raul. He was already dressed, just buckling his belt. She made no move to cover herself. However low she might have descended, she was already there. Modesty offered scant absolution, if that was what she desired.

Gloria emerged from the bathroom. Her leotard was back on. "Raul, I think we'll dispense with the workout today. I find myself all tired out."

"Si, Señora Warner." Miguel was getting dressed, too. Soon all were dressed, except Brenda, who remained naked.

"Brenda, please don't go. Stay with me a while," Gloria said as she approached Raul and fumbled in her wallet. She handed Raul a roll of bills.

The odor of sex was all around. Brenda remained nude until the two men shut the door behind them.

Raul and Miguel moved quickly through the house and out the front door where Raul's car waited. They didn't see Juana watching them. 

"Don't say nothin' until we are in dee car," Raul whispered to his protégé.  As Raul put the car in gear, Miguel counted the bills that Gloria had given them. "Seis cientos," Miguel said before Raul had to ask the question.

"Oye! What you say, niño? No bad for an hour's work, eh?"

The young man known as Miguel grinned broadly. "Ees good, Raul. D'ere ees only one question."

Raul shrugged his shoulders.

"Where are dee cookies and milk?"

He handed Raul three of the six bills and the two roared with much laughter—at Miguel's joke and other things—as they sped down the long driveway.

************** 

Brenda put on a terrycloth robe that Gloria kept in the mini-gym. She sank into the sofa where she had just had sex with Raul. She was worn out and had just used muscles that hadn't had a good stretching in a long time. She had her eye on Gloria, who was exhibiting signs of a brand new mood. Her host finally came over and sat next to her.

"Did Raul please you?" Gloria sighed. "I hope so; it was my treat."

"He has a great set of hands," Brenda replied, "and he finishes well, too. Most of all, he's good at doing what he 's told." 

"I knew you'd like him," Gloria said, and patted Brenda on the knee.

"To me, he was someone who was good at doing his job—a hired hand. There's nothing more than that—nothing else to like or not."

Gloria grimaced. "Yes, Brenda; you're always the practical one—down to earth. No matter what the fantasy, you keep us all grounded. Sometimes I indulge myself and lift off the ground; sometimes I like to fly."

"I like to think of myself as realistic," Brenda answered. "By the way, you don't really think that young boy impregnated you?"

Gloria laughed. "Good gracious, no; I'm on the pill. It was just one of those fantasies I enjoy so much. It's fun to pretend. Then everything is under control—even when it feels like I'm out of control. And when I'm being bad, I can pretend it's good, or that it's not me. It makes me feel better."

"But you don't have to pretend..." Brenda began to say.

"It makes life better," Gloria insisted. "I can make it any way I want it to be."

"I couldn't do that, Gloria. I need reality. I can't draw that fine line."

"What line?" Gloria said, looking puzzled. "It can be all make pretend, or part. There's no need for lines."

Brenda threw her hands up in frustration. "But you don't need such things, Gloria. You have the children at the school; you have Alvin; you have all this. You don't need to pretend."

"But it gives me double the life I have," Gloria argued. "And tonight I can go to Alvin if I want to and what happened with that young boy just now won't matter—because it was my fantasy. Alvin wasn't part of it, so it won't matter." 

"Gloria every time I think I know you, I find out that I really don't," Brenda said.

"Well I know you, Brenda, honey. You have no fantasy. There's no reality for you, either. All you have is practicality. No conscience, no lines, no regrets or second thoughts; just what serves you in the moment."

"Gloria, how would you know?"

"It's the ultimate fantasy, honey, and you don't even know it."

***************** 

TO BE CONTINUED 



The Brass Statuettes Ch. 18



Chapter 18 - Big Plans

The meeting with Jim Sweeney made Frank eager for action. His first call was to Al Crossman, but it was the Friday before Labor Day and he was out of the office for the day. He was able to get through to Agent Henderson, who was in his office at the Federal Building.

Frank: "I think you should take a look at a block of Western shares that traded at ten this morning."

Henderson: "What makes you say that?" 

Frank: "Something came up in a meeting yesterday. If it comes true, it'll create a big demand for Western shares. The price is bound to go up from where it is now.

Henderson: "You'll have to tell me more to make me interested.

Frank: "You didn't hear it from me—there is a group who is said to be getting ready to take a position in Western. If they do, they'll have to buy any shares they can get their hands on. Only the people who were at that meeting know about it. 

Henderson: "Do you think someone's cashing in?"

Frank: "More than that. The block that traded today would be just the right amount to cover those shorts that set off the trouble in the first place. To me, it looks like a defensive move."

Henderson: "I'm not following you."

Frank: "Whoever sold those short shares has got to cover them. If they don't, they have no profit. What happened at yesrterday's meeting made them make the buy to start covering.

Henderson: "I see. Who was at this meeting?"

Frank: "Alvin Warner, Al Crossman, Blake Hart and Tyler Smith. You know all of them. There were five directors, too: Jim Sweeney, Detlef Mueller, Simon Lambert, Barrett Dodge and Randall Trainer."

Henderson: "You left yourself out."

Frank: "I wasn't there. I was out of the office. One of the people filled me in."

Henderson: "You're kidding! You're telling me all this and you weren't even there? The credibility of your story just went to zero. And, don't forget, there's the matter of those put options."

Frank: "I knew you'd say that—but look, the facts speak. That was the subject of that meeting yesterday and there's no doubt about the block of shares trading. All I'm saying is to check it out. What've you got to lose?"

Henderson: "My credibility, for one thing."

Frank: "Have you got any better leads on this case?"

Henderson: "Well..."

Frank: "I didn't think so. Why don't you at least check it out? If it turns out to be nothing, so be it. I've got a feeling that it won't."

Henderson: "You've got a feeling... That's great! Alright, I'll check it, but it's not as easy as you think."

********** 

Frank tried to make a few more calls. He wanted to speak to Murray Shoreham. He was gone for the weekend. He also wanted to speak to his contacts for the new R&D financing project. They were out of their offices, too. He switched on the intercom.

"Jeannette, see if Blake Hart has some open time on his calendar."

"Mr. Hart is right here," Jeannette answered. "He wants to see you."

"Send him in before he gets away," Frank yelled into the intercom. "Bring some fresh coffee, too."

Blake Hart wasn't much older than Frank. He was a Chemical Engineer by training and had an MBA, to boot. It had been quite a few years since calculus and thermo-dynamic equations were his stock in trade. He'd done stints in sales and plant management in addition to engineering before being called to work at Headquarters. His marriage to Brenda was number two for him—her first. 

"I was just about to go out looking for you," Frank said as they took their seats at the conference table.

"I had a feeling," Blake said.

Frank had known Blake for a dozen years. They'd worked together many times. Every time they did it turned out well. Blake was like Frank in a lot of ways. One was that Blake was a quick study on Frank's point of view, but knew where to draw the line before he began to step on his toes.

"There are some forecast questions we have to straighten out. It goes beyond Aaron crunching numbers."

"Seems like old times," Blake said. "How many forecasts did we do together when you were Controller?"

"One more for old time's sake," Frank replied.

"You ought to hire yourself a new Controller to take your place. This is really his job. I've been watching you. You're gonna to drive yourself nuts before you get a chance to grow old and gray. That's why Tyler and I are taking you out for golf this afternoon." 

"Golf sounds good, but I've gotta pass," Frank said, laughing off the thought of stolen liesure time. "I'd like to hire a Controller, but I've got to get this mess with the SEC straightened out first."

"Bad thinking," Blake said as he shook his head. "Get someone in here to straighten it out for you."

Frank sighed; he eased back in his chair and thought about what Blake said. Although it was said half in jest, Frank knew that Blake never gave advice in jest—and deep-down, he knew it was the right way to go. "You know," Frank said, "if I hadn't been Controller before this job, I would have done it already. I think you're right."

"Besides, if the new guy is any good, you can take credit for whatever he does, and if he screws up you can fire him," Blake said, as he laughed.

"Now, that's a real MBA talking," Frank laughed back. 

They finished their coffees and set the cups down at the same time. 

"Aaron told you about my plan for the Bayonne and Texas City Plants?" Blake asked.

"That's good as far as it goes," Frank answered. "I think this downturn might have longer legs than that. We need a plan that stretches out farther."

"How is the forecast shaping up? I know that all the units aren't down."

"It looks better than you might think," Frank said. "Sure, we'll be down, but I think we'll ride it out better than the industry average. We have some bright spots. In some ways, it's a balancing act."

"What're you trying to balance, Frank?"

"We're going to be generating positive cashflow because of inventory drawdown and our stock price is depressed. That's a combination I don't think we want to live with. It makes us a takeover target. Someone could leverage the buyout and then pay off the debt with our own cash."

"So you're looking for ways to spend some money? What about Jason's R&D?"

"He'll get some of it, but his needs go way beyond that. At the same time, we don't want to build up a lot of excess inventory.""

"I'd like to make a complete conversion of Texas City and Bayonne," Blake said. "Right now, they're carbon copies of one another. I want to specialize the plants and narrow their products; make them state of the art equipment-wise. We'd get a big cost advantage on our closest competition. It would take some money—and time."

"That's perfect," Frank said. "We can capitalize the whole thing. We just have to get the tax abatement agreement in Texas City renegotiated. I can talk to Tyler about getting that started."

"Of course, we'd have to sell Alvin on the idea," Blake reminded him. "That won't be easy. You know how he likes the eggs in different baskets—not relying on one plant for producing everything."

"We'll have to show him some numbers that will convince him," Frank said. "You get your people working on it and I'll loan Aaron to you to help with the financials after he's done with the forecast."

"Okay," Blake said. "Let's hope it's not another thing that Alvin almost likes."

Frank began to answer Blake's remark, but thought better of it. He knew Alvin was cautious—too cautious sometimes. Frank always kept his gripes to himself. Besides, he had other important things on his mind.

"By the way, I want to discuss something on another subject," Frank said.

"On the golf course," Blake insisted.

"Really, Blake, I can't..."

"See? It's going to be business, so you don't have to feel guilty. Tyler and I have something to discuss with you, as well."

Frank opened his mouth to speak, a protest ready.

"No 'buts'," Blake said. "We'll grab a quick lunch upstairs and then head out to the course. There's nothing going on around here, anyway."

********** 

Brenda was freshening her drink. Gloria was looking over some papers before calling the meeting of the Foundation Directors to order. Darlene was searching the far-off rose garden for an answer to something.

"Do you think we'll have any more pool days before summer's over?" Ashley asked the group.

"We could go in today if we wanted to," Gloria said without looking up from her sheaf of notes.

"It's just barely warm enough. We'd just be going through the motions."

"Besides," Brenda added as she returned to the table with a freshened iced tea and vodka, there are no garden boys to look us over."

"That's right," Gloria said. "José doesn't need them until spring. Whatever there is to be done, he can handle. No more peones until March."

"The pool season went by so quickly," Ashley lamented. She turned to Darlene. "You never got your chance with the garden boys, did you?"

"Never mind about that," Brenda stepped in before Darlene could answer. "Darlene earned her stripes in other ways."

"Oh, yes," Ashley teased. "We all know about that, don't we?"

Darlene cast her eyes down at the table, but it was too late to prevent the other women from seeing the tears forming in her eyes.

"Darlene, what's the matter?" Brenda asked. "You don't regret..."

"No, no," Darlene blurted out. "It's not that at all."

"Well, what, then?" Brenda demanded.

"Ah don't know if Ah can tell you," Darlene sobbed.

"You have to," Ashley reminded her. "It's the rule. We don't tolerate secrets—especially about this sort of thing."

"Maybe we can help you," Brenda said. "I'll get you another drink."

Darlene looked up and wiped her eyes. "Ah s'pose it would good therapy to get it off my chest," she said.

"Definitely!" Ashley proclaimed as she leaned forward. "Now, c'mon. Out with it!"

"Well, it's this," Darlene started. "Ah haven't been—you know—with Jason since our blow-up over the university thing. He won't promise me that he won't take that job in New York State."

"That's not too difficult," Ashley said. "Just take matters in your own hands."

"You mean do myself?" Darlene asked. "Ah have been, but it's definitely not the same."

"No," Ashley replied. "I meant take a certain part of Jason in your hands. It won't take long before..."

"I can't do that!" Darlene exclaimed. "It would like sayin' 'Ah give up; go ahead, Jason. Take that job'."

"I see your point," Ashley mumbled. 

"Darlene's right," Brenda said as she polished off her recently freshened drink. "What you have to do is..."

"And to make matters worse," Darlene blurted again. "Jim won't take my calls."

Gloria dropped the stack of papers she'd been studying. She had been only half-interested, but Darlene's last comment changed that. "You called Jim Sweeney? Are you crazy?" she demanded.

"I just thought..."

"You weren't thinking at all," Gloria shouted. "You were just in the sack with him. Now you're chasing him around. You have to wait for him to call you."

"Then you can ask him for more favors," Brenda added. She set Darlene's new drink in front of her.

"All I wanted was to get away to a hotel downtown for an afternoon of fun with him while Jason comes to his senses," Darlene explained. "A woman has her needs."

"Someone is in l-o-v-e," Ashley giggled from the bar across the veranda, where she'd gone to freshen her drink. 

"I don't believe it," Brenda huffed. "You mean a hotel, right here in your own hometown—where anyone you know might see you?"

"Ah didn't think o; that," Darlene protested. She took a big gulp of the drink that Brenda brought for her. "Y'all said that sex was fun. You said that Jim Sweeney is fun—and he is."

"Fun and free are not the same words," Gloria scolded. "You've got to be smart about this. You can't run around like a bitch in heat. You'll ruin it for us all."

"Ah suppose so," Darlene murmured and lowered her eyes. "Ah nevah realized how much Ah'd miss getting' it—an' how Ah loved the feel of a man's eyes on mah body."

"It was fun with Jim, though, wasn't it?" Gloria said in a lightened voice.

"Why, it sure was," Darlene answered and covered her mouth as she giggled.

"Don't worry; Jim will call you when the time is right," Gloria assured her. 

"So be ready," Brenda added. "Have something in mind that you want him to do for you."

"It's that what it's all about?" Darlene asked. "Sex for favors? Ah thought it was supposed to more dignified than that. You know what it makes us into, don't you?"

"Don't say it," Ashley warned. 

"You have to force yourself not think of it like that, Darlene," Brenda answered. "Think of like...like...killing two birds with one stone."

"Right!" Ashley chimed in.

"In the meantime, you've got to get control of Jason," Gloria said.

"That's the hard part," Darlene admitted. She took a swallow of her vodka and iced tea.

"He's not getting anything on the side, is he?" Brenda asked.

"No," Darlene said, shaking her head. "He'd probably like to, but he's too shy for that. Jason's always been shy—at least with women."

"You'd better be careful," Gloria replied. "All men are shy deep-down. Not getting sex often enough gives them courage. He might find himself with some cute little thing in a lab coat who's not shy."

"Well, what can Ah do?" Darlene pleaded.

"You have to seduce him," Gloria told her. "You have to do it in a way that he thinks it's all his idea."

"Then, when he's about to slide into home plate, you make him promise to give up the university job," Brenda said. "Don't worry—he will. When men get anywhere near home plate they only have that on their minds. They'd trample over the flowers on their mothers' graves if they were in the way."

"You've got that right," Ashley said.

"So, you know what you have to do?" Gloria asked. Darlene nodded. "You'll get the hang of it," she assured her. "Just remember that nature is your side and you have plenty of tools to work with."

"So, can we get the meeting started?" Brenda asked.

"We're missing a person," Gloria said. "Trudy's not here."

"She's not coming," Brenda informed her.

"Not coming? You called her, didn't you?"

"She refused," Brenda said. "She said that after what happened at the pool party she didn't feel right about things and that she quit."

"You should have promised her another visit to Morningside School."

"I did. It was a mistake," Brenda reported. "She said that we're pimping the children to get her do what we wanted. She said that I should tell everyone that she didn't like it."

"What?" Gloria cried. "She accused us of that?"

"That's what she said," Brenda confirmed. "I hate to admit it; in a certain way, she has a point."

Gloria was speechless, and her face turned red. Brenda wondered if she should have told the whole story. An edited version would have done the job just as well—and that comment at the end was completely indiscreet. "Too late," she told herself. "But, it's true. It was stupid to say so—but it's the truth."

"What do we need her for?" Ashley spoke up. "She's nothing but problems. She just can't get along."

"Besides, we hired someone to do her job," Darlene said.

"So, I'm alone on this," Gloria growled. "You've all turned against me—just like Trudy."

"I'm not against you. I'm just trying to be realistic, that's all," Brenda said. "Trudy told me tell you she hoped there are no hard feelings," 

"Hard feelings!" Gloria screamed. "She doesn't know the meaning of the word. She'll pay for this."

"But Gloria, we don't need her. We don't even want her," Brenda argued. 

"She can't get away with this," Gloria growled. "Everyone will see that she's not included. Our husbands will see. They like her better than us already. They'll wonder why she's not in our group. We'll have a lot of explaining to do."

"I'm sure she's not coming, Gloria. Why don't you just let it go?" Brenda said.

"I can't. If she doesn't join us, we'll have to get even. I've already figured out how to do it."

"How's that?" Ashley said.

"I'm going to hurt her the worst way I can. I'm going to screw her husband."

"You mean Frank?" Brenda asked, not quite believing. "You want to do it with Frank? Good luck on that! What makes you think he wants to do it with you?"

"I have a way with men. I've never had a one refuse me. It's up to me to refuse them, or say 'yes' if I want to. That sawed-off fireplug is no exception."

"I'd bet he'd be great in the sack," Ashley mused. "It'd be like holding back a charging bull."

"Maybe," Gloria said. "I'm going to find out." 

"What's the point, Gloria?" Brenda asked. "You don't need to do it with Frank Bennett. You could have your choice of any number of men. Give Jim Sweeney a call if that's on your mind."

"No!" Darlene cried.

"You've got Alvin," Brenda pleaded.

"It has got to be Frank," Gloria corrected her. "I'm going to bed him and then rub Trudy's nose in it. It's the best way I know to get even and bring little Miss High and Mighty back down to earth. I'll take away what she thinks she has over us."

"I seriously doubt Trudy thinks about that very often," Brenda replied. "This could really backfire, Gloria. Trudy and Frank aren't like us. You don't know how they'll react. Frank might not even want to do it with you."

"Not want to do it with me?" Gloria repeated. Brenda saw the anger spilling out of her eyes.

"I know it sounds crazy, Gloria. But, I think he might not."

"Turn me down?" Gloria asked. 

"I told you, they're different. They think about things a different way."

"That just goes to prove my point," Gloria shouted. "It's the source of all our troubles. We'll put a stop to it here and now. Then we'll see Trudy come around to our way. Maybe we'll be setting her up with Jim Sweeney before too long."

Brenda shrugged her shoulders. "It's up to you, Gloria." 

Gloria's face brightened. "I've got it all figured out, but I'll need some help."

"Anything," Ashley breathed.

"I'm glad you said that Ashley, dear. You have a big part in my plan."

"Oh, goody!" 

"I'm going to do it next week when Alvin's in Austin giving one of those lectures. That's where you come in."

"I don't get it."

"I need someone to make sure that Alvin stays overnight in Austin instead of driving home" Gloria said. "Now do you know what I mean?"

"What could I do to make Alvin stay in Austin if I'm here in Houston?" she asked.

Ashley squinted at Gloria with a confused expression. Then she looked at Brenda and then at Darlene. Darlene was smiling at her and nodding her head.

"Oh, no; I don't think I'd be able to get away," Ashley said. "I think Tyler and I have plans. It's just not possible." 

"Why not? It's not short notice. Just give Tyler the shopping trip excuse."

"You know I'd help you any way I can, Gloria. It's just that..."

"Here's a way that you can," Gloria replied. "Come on. It's your turn. Brenda does more than her share. And Darlene's tied up with other things right now."

Ashley sat up straight in her chair. She shot a glance at Brenda. Brenda could see that she looked scared. 

"Well, I...I..." she stammered.

"Ashley, I really need this from you. You always talk a good game. I thought you'd jump at the chance. Alvin's not too bad. It's kind of like wrestling with a big teddy bear. Whaddya say?"

"I can't, I can't...Tyler...I can't because...um..."

"I'll do it," Brenda interrupted. "It's better this way, anyway. I've been with Alvin before. He knows me, so he won't be suspicious. Nothing will be left to chance."

Gloria turned to Brenda. "You're a dear. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Do you really think Frank Bennett will sleep with you?" Darlene asked. 

"I can get any man I want to—and believe me, darlin', we won't be doin' any sleeping."




The Brass Statuettes Ch. 18



"I just remembered something," Ashley said. "I have to go. It's an appointment that I made a long time ago." She jumped to her feet and hurried through the veranda door.

"I knew she was a faker," Gloria said. "All she ever did was talk about it. I never knew her to do it with anyone."

"I would say a tease," Brenda partly agreed, "but she was just teasing herself."

"Let's have another drink, and then I'll fill you in on Alvin's details."

*********** 

Frank watched the shot he'd just hit fly on its way to the seventh green. He'd hit it hard, but something about the ball's trajectory didn't look just right and he knew right away what to expect. Sure enough, a second later the ball started arcing to the left and was finally ensnared by a sand trap alongside the green. He suppressed an expletive.

"I really spun out on that one," he said out loud, acknowledging his error to Tyler and Blake. 

"See? You're out of practice. You don't get out on the course enough. I tried to tell you in the office," Blake replied.

"Don't worry," Tyler said, "better the trap than what you would've been in if the ball had gotten past it."

"You're a real silver lining kid of guy," Frank replied.

"I'm a lawyer," Tyler said. "It's my job to give advice."

"As I see it, your game will come around somewhere on the seventeenth," Blake said. "You'll par the last two. That's so you'll come back for more."

"I'd have my head on my game if I knew why you two dragged me out here," Frank said. "I know you've got something on your minds—probably about that conference in Alvin's office yesterday."

"You knew we were called in there?" Blake asked.

"Jeannette called me while it was in progress. I was with Patricia and Trudy in a diner near Austin having lunch."

"So, you didn't know anything about the meeting?" Tyler asked. He looked at Blake with an 'I-told-you-so' look as Frank shook his head. 

"It was crazy," Blake began. "Tyler and I get called in to this meeting we didn't know anything about and there's the Finance Committee sitting around the table. Then we look around and find out you're not there and before we can ask why, Alvin cuts us off."

"What'd he say?" Frank asked.

"He said that Mueller was putting together a syndicate to take control of the company and he wanted us to know because he wanted our support in case he decided to go for it."

"Then we were dismissed," Tyler added. "No questions, no explanation and no Frank. We didn't like it."

"I'm not that crazy about it either," Frank said. He stopped talking for a few seconds as Tyler addressed his ball, preparing to take his approach shot. "I think Mueller's determined to pull off this Wertheim deal come hell or high water. He's using the SEC bullshit as leverage."

"He wants you out because he thinks you'll stop it," Tyler said. His ball had come to rest in the center of the green.

"I probably would," Frank acknowledged. "It's not the right deal for the company right now."

"Or ever," Blake quickly said. "I never liked it. The integration process would have been murder. European deals are always tough. German ones are the worst. They think they invented math and no one else knows how to write chemical equations. It'd be months before they'd stop trying to lecture us and decide to shut up and listen."

Blake took his eight iron out of his bag and hit a high arching shot that came to rest fifteen feet from the cup. He stuffed the club back into his bag.

"It's over-regulated to the max over there—even worse than here."

"I wish you'd been that firm when the debate was on," Frank reminded him.

"I know," Blake sighed. "I regret it; just self-protecting, I guess. Things are different now."

"We just don't like being railroaded into supporting something we know nothing about," Tyler said.

"To say nothing of having you get shut out," Blake added. "And if Mueller takes over we'll have a disaster on our hands."

Frank took his sand wedge into the bunker. "You guys keep quiet for a second or I'll chunk this." Tyler and Blake kept silent, but Frank chunked it, anyway. The ball ended up on the fringe. He climbed out of the bunker and strode quickly to the cart to exchange his wedge for his putter. "It looks like I didn't lose my turn."

Frank two-putted from the fringe for a bogey. Tyler sunk a long putt for a bird, but Blake missed his fifteen-footer and settled for par.

"So what're you guys saying?" Frank asked.

"We want Alvin out," Tyler said without hesitation. "We thought that if the three of us went to the Board..."

"You mean a palace coup," Frank said.

"Call it what you will," Blake said. "We've got to do something. We've all got a lot invested in this company. Alvin's not..."

"Let's finish our round and discuss it in the clubhouse later," Frank said. 

************* 

After the round they showered and then got a table in the corner of the bar. Blake nursed a scotch. Frank and Tyler each had a beer.

"What's the matter with you, Frank? I thought you were a scotch man," Blake pointed out.

"After the fleecing you gave me today all I can afford is beer."

"Let's talk business," Tyler said. "We've got nothing against Alvin, personally, but he's gone weak when we need someone strong."

"The top of the ladder is a tough place to live," Blake agreed, "no one can stay there forever and he's been there a long time."

"You've got to agree," Tyler added. "He's obviously planning on getting rid of you."

"I wanted to confront him today," Frank answered, "but he was in Austin on that lecture thing he's involved in."

"See what we mean?" Blake shot back.

Frank raised his beer mug and took a big gulp. "For my part, I think the coup idea is a mistake."

Blake and Tyler looked at one another. Frank could see they were surprised and disappointed; he'd expected that.

"We were thinking that you could carry the flag on this," Blake told him. "We know you're tight with Sweeney.

"Do you want to know the business or personal reasons first?" Frank asked. Neither Blake nor Tyler answered. "Let me stick to the business reasons. First of all, if Alvin goes, who would take his place?"

Tyler spoke up. "We thought Blake could move up to President..." 

"You'll get that anyway, if you bide your time, especially if you pull off this Bayonne-Texas City project—and I think you will. President is not Chairman. Don't tell me that anyone would be better than Alvin. That's just plain wrong."

"We thought Jim Sweeney..."

"Jim just turned seventy. What makes you think he'd want to do it—or for how long? Jim's a great Board member, but I don't see him as Chairman."

"I'll give you that," Blake admitted. "That's not enough reason to not take action."

"Let me give you one, then," Frank said and leaned in closer to the other men so that he didn't have to speak loud. "If Alvin suddenly goes, it will make a lot of noise on Wall Street. The stock price will plummet. If Mueller doesn't pull off the takeover, someone else will. We'll be easy pickin's and if that happens you won't even remember the name Western Chemical in five years."

"You really think that could happen?" Blake asked.

"Frank's right," Tyler said. "This SEC thing hanging over us has us in a corner."

"You're damn right," Frank said. "What we have to do is keep the stock price as high as we can to make it harder for Mueller's boys accumulate the shares they need—if that's what they actually do."

"Whaddya mean 'if'?" Blake asked.

"It's possible that Mueller's bluffing. If he really had the guns he'd just do it and make changes after the fact. I think he's trying to force me out because he thinks I'm standing in the way of Wertheim. He's got a one-track mind—and it's on the wrong track."

"What Frank's saying makes a lot of sense," Tyler said. "So how do we keep the stock price from falling?"

"By keeping investors calm and confident," Frank said. "Keep profit performance up and keep rumors of instability in management low. I'm going on a tour to try to make sure that the big shareholders are still with us. If something blows up while I'm gone, I'm going to be in a very bad position. I already spoke with Jim Sweeney and he thinks it's the right thing to do."

"Okay, I'm sold," Blake said. "It wasn't the answer I was hoping for, but I'm sold."

"You said there was a personal part, too," Tyler said.

"It's just that I don't like end runs. Getting stabbed in the back hurts. I just got a fresh set of scars to prove it. Alvin may have been erratic lately, but he's earned the chance to make it right—at least in my book." 

"You're getting to be a softy," Tyler joked.

"Tell that to my teen-aged daughter. You'll get an argument."

"Wanna lose some more money on Sunday?" Blake asked. "I've got a tee time reserved, but no foursome."

"You're on!"

"Sounds good," Tyler said.

"We'll get Sweeney as a fourth," Frank said. "He'll take all our money and make us thank him for doing it."

************* 

TO BE CONTINUED...



The Brass Statuettes Ch. 19



Chapter 19 Success and Failure 

Floyd greeted Frank bright and early, as usual. He brought in the complimentary coffee. Frank took a sip from the steaming cup.

"The first sip is always the best," Frank said with relish and drank some more.

"Not too strong?" Floyd asked.

"You know better than to ask that, Floyd."

"I'd bet you've got a lot of hair on your chest," Floyd laughed.

Frank laughed, too; and then he turned serious. "You noticed that Aaron is working in the Controller's office again?" 

"The young man from downstairs? Yes, I did notice; that's my job."

"He's working on the new forecast and I want him up here. The information will be more secure. There's a lot happening and it's all right in those files."

"I'm glad you told me that, Mr. Bennett. I'll keep a special eye on that office."

"Please do it, Floyd. You see, we haven't given Aaron the keys to the filing cabinets or anything in there. I felt with the office door locked and a guard at the desk it would be alright. Now, I've got second thoughts. If the wrong people got what's in those files..."

"Why don't you give him the keys for the interior security drawers?" Floyd asked.

"I hate to do that," Frank said, "seeing as we're almost done and the fact that I don't want to draw attention to it at this late date. If you can double-check the security of the door and be sure to record anyone coming in or out—that should be enough." 

"Anything I can do to help, sir."

"There is just one more thing," Frank said. "Take readings on the photocopier each day when you first come in. There's a printout you can get that shows how many copies, what time of day, keycard number—that sort of thing."

Floyd scratched his head. "I didn't know that. Should I have Miss Jeannette show me how?"

"No—no, not Jeannette," Frank said. "I'll show you how right now. We'll do one and I'll write the instructions as we do it. You'll see how easy it is."

Frank took Floyd through the steps. "Just put the printout on my desk each morning," Frank said. "Put it in an envelope and seal it."

*************** 

Later that morning Frank was in Alvin's office sitting across the desk from him.

"I'm glad you stopped in," Alvin said. "I was going to ask you to come in and see me, anyway."

"I want to discuss the meeting of the Finance Committee last Thursday."

Alvin sat back in his chair wearing an uncomfortable expression on his face. "You found out about that?"

"Alvin, how could I not find out about it? I got the news from four different sources."

"Who were they?" Alvin asked.

"Is that important?" 

"It is," Alvin muttered.

Frank thought before he answered. "If I'm already DOA there's no point in taking anyone down with me."

"Jim Sweeney was one of them," Frank answered. He figured that Jim could take care of himself.

"I should have known he'd talk to you," Alvin said. "I suppose he told you what it was all about."

"Alvin, if you want me out, all you have to do is say the word and I'll go back to my office and clean out my desk. I'll turn in my key to the Executive Washroom right now." Frank reached into his pocket and produced a keychain. He started peeling off one of the keys. 

"No one's saying that, Frank," Alvin said, shaking his head.

"What gives, then? How can you call a meeting of the Finance Committee and not even let your CFO know about it?"

"I know it must have hurt, Frank. It wasn't intended like that. The meeting was planned in advance. No one knew you were going out of town. It was purely a coincidence."

Frank leaned forward. He felt like shouting, but swallowed it before it could come out. "That's not the point. I need to know that I have the support of you and the Board. Others need to know it, too. Do you know how many shareholders would bail out if they got wind of a secret Finance Committee meeting and the CFO was cut out? There're a lot of implications."

Alvin nodded that he understood and then turned his eyes away from Frank's.

"I ask again, Alvin; what in hell's going on?"

Alvin threw his hands up as if he was under arrest. "It was all Mueller's idea. He looked up the bylaws and showed us where any three members could call a special meeting. He said that he already had Lambert going along. He threatened to canvass the others. Jim and I decided to appease him before he got things stirred up any further. He insisted that you be left out, and we went along. Al Crossman thought it was the right way to go."

"Alvin, it's surprising to hear you tell it that way. I thought..."

"Whadd're you sayin', Frank?"

"It's just that, not very long ago, you'd never put up with that kind of thing from a guy like Mueller. You'd have put him in his place, and you'd have never let Al Crossman call your shots."

"You think I'm weak, do you?"

"No," Frank insisted. "You need to know that if you stay strong, you won't be sorry. You keep punchin' for us and we'll do the same for you."

"Is that what you talked about at the golf course with Hart and Smith?" Alvin asked. "I've got my sources, too, so don't deny it. Was it that, or planning a little revolt?"

"It was the first, Alvin; we discussed that, my duck-hook and how much money I owed Blake."

Alvin chuckled. "Never bet with Blake. He played for his college team, you know."

"I lost even more to Jim Sweeney on Sunday. We've gotta get the share price up so I can cash in my options and pay my golf debts."

Alvin laughed again and then turned serious. "I'm tired, I guess, Frank. I just want everything to run smooth for a while. We have a great strategy, but what good is it? It seems like I spend all my time kicking away yapping dogs nipping at my ankles."

"I think Mueller's deal is a bluff," Frank said. "I don't think he has any backers or any cash, either. He's just trying to get me out of the way because he thinks it'll free up Wertheim. If he was really serious, he'd just do it and fire everyone after he had control; not horse around like this. If you were asking my advice, I'd advise telling him to piss up a rope."

"That's what Sweeney says, too," Alvin said. "I'm inclined to agree—but I'm not sure yet."

"Force him out!" Frank yelled and jumped out of his chair. "What kind of director is he, anyway? He's doesn't give a damn for the shareholders; he's looking after himself." Frank paused and felt bad. He sat back down. "I'm sorry to lose my temper, but that's how I feel," he said in a quieter tone.

"It's alright; considering everything, I think you're allowed. I'm also inclined to agree with you on that, too. He never really had any interest on the Board except to drag us into the EU."

"Drag in our money, you mean," Frank replied. "He has a spot for us on his trophy wall."

"So, if I hang tough I can count on you?" 

"Yes, you can," Frank assured him. "Let me tell you my plans for the next week or so. I'm taking a little tour to visit with some shareholders and also some prospects for the financing deal. When I come back I'll be ready to present the forecast. My people are working on it now."

"Sounds like a good idea," Alvin said. "How does the forecast look, anyway?"

"Better than you might think. Sure, we're taking a hit in our divisions connected with the building industry, but there are some favorable things that offset it. Not only that, Blake's working up a plan for some plant refurbishments that really sound good. I'll want him to present that along with the forecast."

"Oh, I've heard Blake's plans before..."

"I heard this one and I like it," Frank interrupted. "At least hear him out. If the numbers don't make sense you won't even see it. You've got to back us up."

"Okay, okay; lesson learned," Alvin said. Frank got up to go. "Wait! I almost forgot what I wanted to speak to you about."

Frank thought they'd just discussed the most important thing, so he felt a little perplexed. He sat back down. "Okay—shoot!"

"It's about Gloria," Alvin began,,"or, I should say it's about Gloria's charity foundation. She wants to know if you'll serve on her Board. You know—give it the credibility of a finance professional."

Frank puffed out a breath. It was the last thing he'd expected. "That's not really my forte, Alvin. Why don't you let me recommend someone?"

"Gloria asked specifically for you, Frank. You don't know Gloria like I do. When she decides she wants something, she gets very determined. How about it?"

"I've got so much on my hands right now, Alvin..."

"I know; why don't you give her a call? She probably just wants to use your name on the letterhead—that's all." Frank didn't answer. "I know it's a pain in the ass, but Gloria has her mind made up. I'd consider it a personal favor."

************** 

"So, what's your expectation about this SEC thing?" Murray Shoreham demanded.

Frank had just finished his presentation to the Executive Committee of the CGEPT. "It should be resolved soon, perhaps this week," Frank replied. "Honestly, we don't see any justification for them impounding our reports. It should have been resolved by now; the government got another continuance from the judge. Our attorneys are working on it."

"They're letting you twist in the wind," Murray said.

"It's my personal opinion; I think they're going for the continuance because they know what the judge's ruling will finally be. They want to prolong it rather than have a final showdown. It's their way of punishing us without winning their case."

"What the hell is the matter with the judge?" a voice from one of the Committee members sang out.

"He's probably trying to cope with the mood of the times," Frank answered. "We've all seen more than one judicial appointment get trashed because of some trumped-up beef about a decision made years before. He's got to play the game if he hopes for a step up the ladder some day."

"Pretty harsh comment," the voice replied.

Frank sighed. "I suppose it is. You'll have to excuse me. It's been a frustrating time for us." "That's okay, Frank. We appreciate you coming all the way to Sacramento to talk to us," Murray said, assuming control of the meeting. "If there are more questions..." He looked around the room. "If you have any, I'd suggest that you approach Frank during lunch. We've arranged a buffet. It's ready now, just outside the meeting room."

The meeting broke up and the participants began to file out. A few shook hands with Frank as they left. Murray stayed in his place near where Frank stood and another man joined him. When all but the three of them had left the room Murray made the introduction.

"Frank, this is Steven Crawford, Executive Director of the Pension Trust."

Frank thrust out his hand and Crawford grasped it. "Mighty thoughtful of you to come out here to make this presentation to us. You didn't have to."

"We're important to each other," Frank said. "We know that. It's only right."

The three men ambled out to the buffet line. "This SEC trouble have you tied up in knots?" Crawford asked.

"The worst is that it's holding up our ability to fund the R&D program that I mentioned. We've been working on it, but it's tough to finalize anything without a clean slate from the SEC."

"But, I thought you shelved the public offering," Murray said.

"We did, but investors want to see the docs just the same," Frank answered. "We're working on something private. Since you asked, I thought you might be interested in taking a look."

They finished loading their plates and found an empty table.

"What's the package look like?" Murray asked.

"There's a couple of ways to go," Frank said. "We're going to build a new R&D center. We own the land free and clear and have all our permits. You could have a first mortgage on it."

"Hmmm," Murray grunted. "Probably not. It's not our usual cup of tea. We don't want to be property owners and there's no liquidity there. What else have you got?"

"Convertible debentures," Frank answered. "Coupon of six; you can trade them in after three years to common at forty-six at your option."

"Callable?" Murray asked.

"Probably not," Frank said. "Keep in mind that we haven't cast anything in stone yet. We've got a lot of maybes. In fact, I'm going to see one of those maybes day after tomorrow in Wisconsin."

"Who've you been talkin' too?" Crawford asked.

"Life insurance companies, mostly."

"Their criteria aren't that far off ours, Steve," Murray said. "Maybe we should take a look." He turned to Frank. "Send me the paperwork."

"With pleasure," Frank said. "I'll call Jeannette when we're through with lunch and have her send you a package. It's just informal at this point. We're figuring on an SEC filing even though it's a private offering. Since it's convertible, it'll have an effect on overall capitalization."

"There's that SEC word again," Crawford interjected. "Look Frank, we know that Western's done a hell of a job coping with this. We're gonna stick with ya. This visit just reinforces our thinking. We were gonna dump your shares when the trouble first happened. Murray convinced us to hold the line. Your giving him that private copy of the 10-Q was great."

"Private copy?" Frank asked.

"Yeah, you know the one you gave him when he visited your headquarters." Crawford looked at his watch. "Gotta run. Been a pleasure, Frank." They stood and shook hands and Steve Crawford disappeared into a hallway. 

Frank turned to Murray. "What's this 'private copy' business, Murray?"

"C'mon, Frank; the one you gave me at your office when I was there. Don't tell me you left that copy of the report on the conference table by mistake. And then you gave me your computer to use while you went to that employee cake thing—and had Jeannette show me how to use the scanner. I may be old, but I can take a hint."

"If I did leave it there for you—and I'm only saying IF—it would have been something confidential between you and me. I could get in a lot of trouble if I had done it on purpose."

"No problem," Murray said. "I'll just shred the copy when I get back to my office."

"No! Don't do that, for crissake. They'll have us for destroying evidence, too. Maybe we can share jail cells."

"What do you want me to do?" 

"Just put it in the bottom of your desk drawer and forget you have it. I'll run it by our lawyer. Hopefully, nothing will come of it."

"Where are you going from here?" Murray asked.

"I've got a presentation—the same as this one—for another shareholder in Palo Alto. It's a mutual fund. Then, I'm catching a plane for Wisconsin to see if I can firm up one of the players in this Debenture deal. After that, I'm in New York for a day and then home."

"Good luck on it," Murray said. "Be sure to have your secretary send me the paperwork. And let me know what your lawyer says about the other thing."

************* 

Frank walked into his house and tossed his luggage in the corner. He heard someone in the kitchen. "Hey, Trudy, I'm home. What did you have for dinner?"

It was eight-thirty and Frank had driven home from the airport. His flight had been a half-hour late. His daughter appeared in the kitchen in place of his wife.

"It's me, Daddy," Margaret said, not looking up from her project. "Mom's at school at Parents' Night."

Frank gave himself a slap on the forehead. "That's right; I forgot. I should have tried for an earlier flight."

"I don't know why," Margaret retorted. "It's not worth going to. It's just a lot of indoctrination for nosy parents."

"They probably want to indoctrinate us so that we can indoctrinate you," Frank said. "What're makin', anyway." 

"Cookies—for the dance after the football game tomorrow night. I volunteered."

"Do I get one?" He reached his hand out to take a sample as they cooled on a rack on the counter.

"Mom says that you need to watch your cholesterol," his daughter protested.

"How can I watch it if I haven't got any?" He reached again.

"Daddy! You're not supposed to have any."

Frank put his arm around his daughter's shoulder. "I'll tell you what," he said. "Let me have that broken one and I won't ask again." She didn't answer and Frank took that to mean 'okay', so he took his sample and bit off a corner. "Not bad," he said. "Tell your mother that I said she should get the recipe from you. I'll be upstairs changing my clothes."

Frank was hanging up his trousers in their bedroom when Trudy appeared in the room.

"How was the parents' meeting? I forgot all about it," Frank asked.

"It was worthwhile," Trudy said. "It would have been nice if you could have been there. They were talking about Trigonometry and Chemistry. Margaret's taking both of those this year. They don't sound very easy, but they're not something I know a lot about."

"They aren't very easy," Frank answered. "Every kid that wants to go to college has to pass them. She's going to have to buckle down."

"You better talk to her, Frank. I don't think she's serious enough about it."

"I will, but it'll be up to her in the end. I'm pretty sure she knows it. She talks a good game, but she'll be okay."

Trudy didn't answer; Frank put on his jeans and threaded a belt through the loops. "I told you I'd talk to her, Trudy. Stop worrying."

"I'm not worrying," Trudy retorted.

"Why the long face, then. You've got something on your mind."

At first Trudy didn't answer; the furls in her brow didn't disappear, either.

"C'mon, Trudy; what is it?"

"I might as well tell you; I have to give you the message, anyway. Gloria called looking for you."

"Gloria?" Frank asked, looking confused. "Gloria who?"

"You know very well 'Gloria Who'," Trudy shot back with her hands on her hips. "Gloria Warner, that's who. She says you're going over to her house to see her."

"Oh, geez!" Frank exclaimed. "I forgot all about it. I've got to call her; I promised Alvin."

"Well, I don't like it!" Trudy declared.

"I don't like it, either," Frank assured her. "It's not like I volunteered. Alvin buttonholed me on Monday when I was in his office confronting him about the secret meeting with the Finance Committee. We patched things up and then he leaned on me to do this thing for Gloria. I tried to say 'no'..."

"Say 'no' to Gloria?" Trudy yelled. "We couldn't do that, could we?" 

"Alvin said it's for that charity she runs. He said she wants my name on it because..."

"You don't know Gloria like I do. I guarantee that's not what she has in mind for you. And she called me up today to tell me just so she could rub my nose in it. She's trying to get even with me for walking out on her party."

Frank sighed. "Maybe yes—maybe no, Trudy. I don't know. I just promised Alvin I'd call her. We'd just buried the hatchet and he asked me this favor—like it was part of the deal to get things right between us. It was more important than Gloria's thing. I'll try to get out of it. It was just one of those things."

"She won't let you out of it, Frank. She thinks she's got her hooks in you."

"Aw, baloney!"

"Women know about these things. Mark my words."

"Even if she does, Trudy, you know I'm not going for anything like that."

"That's not the point, Frank. This has nothing to do with you. Like I said, she's just showing me that she can call up my husband and play her little game—and I have to sit here and let her do it." 

Frank felt that certain surge of energy that came on him when he was about to lose his temper. "Why don't you call her up, Trudy?" he shouted. "Tell her that Little Franky can't come out and play because Trudy says he has to stay away from naughty people."

Trudy pursed her lips and her eyes filled with tears. "It's not like that, Frank," she sobbed.

Frank could never stand it when he made her cry. He put his arm around her shoulder. "Look Trudy, I'm tired; I just came in from the airport. I sure don't want to fight with you about Gloria." He looked at her for a sign that he was successful in consoling her. "Like I told you, I got roped into this against my will. I'll call her in the morning and get this over with as fast as I can."




The Brass Statuettes Ch. 19



Frank kissed her on the forehead. Trudy stopped sobbing and looked at him.

"How was your trip?" she asked.

************** 

Juana was in the kitchen, checking the glassware for water spots from the dishwasher and rubbing off the few she found. It was one of the little jobs she saved for the times that she was on duty and there wasn't much to do. The Señora had asked her to stay late. She was planning on a guest that evening and wanted her to serve a light snack and drinks.

Juana thought about José waiting patiently at their cottage. He always treated himself to a couple tequilas when Juana had to work late. When she arrived home she would pretend not to approve, but secretly was glad he had the chance for his little pleasure. José knew how to use tequila the right way. Not everyone did.

Juana knew that sometimes, when Señor Alvin was away, Señora Gloria would spend the evening alone in her bedroom. The next morning Juana would inspect the vodka bottle and a lot would be gone. She let the Señora keep her secret to herself. 

"¡Povrecita; para ser borracha y sola, otra vez!" she often thought.

She declined to shed wasted tears. It would have been unprofessional. Once she'd asked her mistress, "Why you not go weet Señor Alvin sometimes?" She'd received a mumbled reply that she didn't understand. She should have minded her own business.

This night was different. It was nice to see the Señora not drinking. In fact she looked happy, if a little nervous. She was wearing her tight black slacks and a white satin blouse with ruffles that outlined a deep vee of bare skin in the center of her chest. There was a vapor of perfume emanating from the vee. Juana detected it when the Señora passed close by. It amazed her how these gringa women loved to dress up for one another. 

"My guest will be here any moment, Juana," Gloria sang to her. "Show him to the study when he gets here. We'll meet in there. I might need you later, so stay close so you can hear us, but out of sight." Then Gloria scampered up the stairs.

"Him—He? Juana was confused. She assumed that she'd heard the English wrong. It would have been una falta grande to have a male guest in the evening with Señor Alvin away from the house—very improper. She'd never liked Raul and that cousin of his, but they were employados, so she had to accept it. And, of her part, she fretted. She found herself in a cruel vise between master and mistress of the house. She thought of Señor Alvin, working far from home.

She set the tray of canapés in the study on the coffee table. The bar was nearby. She checked it to be sure all the components were complete. On the corner of the coffee table rested a stack of folders filled with papers that Juana knew nothing about. She wondered if she should call upstairs to the Señora to see if she should hide them before the guest arrived. 

The study was a poor place for a meeting. It had dim lighting, except for the desk, which had its own lamp, but it was across the room from the sofa and coffee table. The big French doors let in plenty of light for daytime meetings. Juana knew how easily Señora Gloria could get angry if any of her plans were questioned. Better to let it be. She would ask her about the errant files, though. The stairway leading to the upstairs was at the other end of the house. She provisionally moved the files to the desk to get them out of the way.

She was almost at the bottom of the stairs when the doorbell rang. It was too late to worry about files. She stopped and answered the door. She looked at a man in a navy-blue business suit. He was shorter than most men but had broad shoulders; he was dark haired and wore a serious look. Even though he wasn't very tall, he looked like a strong man who might be a good worker. 

"I'm Frank Bennett," the man said. "I'm here to see Mrs. Warner." To Juana, the name 'Bennett' had a familiar sound, but she couldn't quite place it. It was an Anglo name, and it was sometimes hard to tell them apart. "She's expecting me," the man said, as a prompt to her as she hesitated.

"In here," she instructed the visitor. She turned and he followed her to the study. As they walked, Juana thought that although he had the look of a strong man, his face bore a rough sort of kindness, too. It made her think all the more that she should know him. She wondered why such a man would visit the Señora with her husband away.

They arrived in the study. "Pliz sit," she bade him. The man took a seat on the sofa with the coffee table in front of it. "Here ees food." She pointed to the plate of canapés. 

"Thanks," the stranger said "Does Mrs. Warner know I'm here? Will you tell her, please?"

Juana turned and headed for the stairway. Gloria was on her way down as she approached. 

"Meestare Bennett ees waiting for chu in dee stoody," Juana told her. 

"Good!" Gloria said. Juana smelled the perfume even stronger. She must have put more on while she was upstairs. She also noticed that the Señora had forgotten to button the top two buttons of her blouse when she usually opened only one. She'd probably undone them to spray her perfume.

"Señora, dee buttons..." She wanted to let Gloria know, but her mistress wasn't listening.

"Now remember to stay close, in case I need you," Gloria reminded her. They hurried along, Gloria in the lead. Gloria stopped abruptly and turned to Juana. "Do you remember Señora Bennett?" Gloria asked. "You showed her the rose garden. I think you called her Señora Trudy."

Juana nodded and waited for Gloria to finish her point. 

"Mr. Bennett is Señora Trudy's husband." Gloria turned and finished making her way to the study.

"¡El esposo de Señora Trudy!" Juana exclaimed to herself. 

The hints with the familiar name and kind face were so clear. She had thought about Señora Trudy many times since she had seen her become angry and walk out of Gloria's party. She feared that the tall, kind woman would never return. With her husband in the house, she seemed closer.

Juana laughed to herself for a moment, thinking of the physical differences between the spouses. It was probably the reason she couldn't associate the man's name with her only Angla friend. She hadn't time for thinking about it very long. She took a place in the hallway near the open doors to the study. There were two potted miniature trees flanking the doors. Juana stood where the foliage hid her and she could listen for Gloria's summons—in case the Señora might need her. Juana never eavesdropped on the Señora's conversations, but she'd been ordered to be stationed where she was and not hearing them was impossible.

"Frank, you're a scotch man, if I remember." Juana heard ice cubes falling into a glass. "I'm having vodka and a little bit of tonic." There were a few moments while nothing was said. Juana assumed the Señora was busy with the drinks.

"You're such a dear to come over and help me tonight," Gloria warbled to her guest.

"Actually, Gloria, I'm not sure how much I can do to help you. My time is just not my own right now and..."

"Just your just being here means so much. Did you have something to eat? You must be famished."

"Yeah, I nibbled on one of these little snack-things while I was waiting for you."

"You're amazing, Frank. I couldn't go without dinner. I'd just faint—you'd have to— carry me upstairs to my room."

"I'll be okay."

"I mean, you must be very strong to be able to do that."

"Just used to it, I guess. By the way, you're not going to faint, are you?"

"I don't know; what would you do if I did? I can, if you want me to. It'd be like a fire drill—a dry run, so to speak."

"Maybe you better have one of these snack-things. Anyway, they're pretty good. Here—try one."

"Later, Frank. How's your scotch—would you like another?

"It's good scotch, Gloria. Alvin always stocks the best, even though he's not a scotch drinker."

"Then let me get you a refill."

"Sure; I wouldn't mind another one. It's been a long day."

Juana heard the clink of ice again. It was no kind of business meeting that she'd ever seen or heard. She thought of Trudy. She wished Señor Alvin had not gone away.

"Thanks, Gloria. That first one really hit the spot. By the way, I forgot that Alvin is out of town. I was only thinking of my own schedule. If it's a problem for me to be here—I mean if you're uncomfortable—we could make it another time and..."

"Nonsense, Frank. I feel very comfortable with you. I feel better than comfortable. You're the one who's not comfortable. You're so—stiff. Let me help you off with your jacket. I want you to relax.?"

"Really, Gloria, I doubt I'll be here that long."

"But I insist. Here, let me. Isn't that better?"

"I suppose..."

"Of course it is, let me slip in next to you on the sofa—so we can see the papers together."

Juana buried her face in her hands. She felt like screaming to the man, but she could only silently wish it: "No, Señor Bennett! Don't do dees awfool teeng to Señora Trudy." If she had more courage she would burst into the study and break up the pair. Any excuse would have been sufficient. But, she had her orders. She shook her head. It was always this way with these rich Anglos. She didn't wish to believe it, but there it was for her to hear with her own ears. Was she so wrong to have her own fears—for her job—and her doubts? She reminded herself that it was not her thing to judge .

"Well, what do you want to show me, Gloria?"

"I could show you—so many things, Frank. I could make you feel those things, too."

"I meant about the Foundation."

"What else could you mean? It's my passion—at least it's one of them. When I have passion for something—I just want to you know—I just have it all through me. I go all the way with it. That's the way I like it. You'll understand soon."

"So, have you got any documents to discuss?"

"I thought we'd have our drink first and just sit here and talk."

"Why don't we get the Foundation business out of the way first?"

"It's all business with you, isn't it, Frank? Do you ever have any time for fun? Just to do anything you want?"

"Business first, I always say." 

"If you insist. Now, I left the folders right here on the coffee table. Where could they have gone? Oh excuse me; I didn't mean to reach across you like that. Now where did those folders go?"

"Well, if you can't find them..."

"We could get to them later..."

"What's that over on the desk?"

"Why they're over there, Frank. The maid must have put them there. I'll bring them right over. What eyesight you have. You must see everything. Do you?"

"Just a lucky guess, Gloria."

Juana heard her mistress lift herself from the sofa and pad across the room. There was no click-click of her heels. She must have taken off her shoes. There was a sound of papers dropping on the floor. She waited for the Senora to call her in to help her pick them up. It would be her opportunity to put a stop to what was going on.

"Oops! Look at clumsy me; I've dropped all the files on the floor."

"I'll give you a hand, Gloria."

"I hate to make you get down on the floor with me, Frank. Can you see what you're doing?"

"That's okay, Gloria. There's one over there—let me get it."

"Owwww!" Juana heard the Señora giggle.

"I'm sorry, Gloria, I didn't mean to touch you there."

"That's alright, Frank."

"It was an accident. I was reaching for the folder. I guess you were reaching for the same one. It just happened."

"I said it was alright, Frank. In fact, I kind of—you know—enjoyed it."

"Not only that, Gloria, when we bumped into each other, those two buttons on your blouse came undone."

"No Frank. I left them unbuttoned on purpose—so you could see."

"But Gloria..."

"You could do more than see them, Frank. Would you like to touch them—or even hold them? Do you like them?"

"Gloria..."

"Please, Frank; I want you to. I feel faint. You can carry me upstairs to my room."

"You look okay to me, Gloria."

"Please, Frank, help me up to my room. You'll be glad you did."

"I'm leaving now."

"No, Frank; stay with me. It will be our secret."

"Why are you doing this, Gloria? You're making a fool of yourself and taking a risk that I'll tell Alvin."

"You won't tell Alvin. Stay with me Frank; I've been waiting all day for you."

"Sorry, Gloria."

"Then just stay long enough to have another drink with me." "No, I'm leaving now."

Juana heard it all. Their talking was so confusing to her. She remained behind the large plant near the doorway so she could be invisible when they came out together on their way to Gloria's bedroom. At first she expected it and sadness filled her. Then, it all changed.

"He is a man. He is like José. He is Señora Trudy's man as José is mine," Juana told herself.

She watched Senora Trudy's husband hurry away from the study. The sight of him walking away made Juana feel happy and relieved. Her earlier cowardice had not led to disaster, after all, and she could be forgiven. She watched him and held her head up high. He didn't see her hiding as he passed by. She heard her mistress screaming. 

"Where do you think you're going? You won't get this chance again. Come back here, Frank. No one walks out on me. Frank...Frank...god damn you."

When Gloria cursed him Juana made the sign of the cross. She thought she should go into the study to see if her mistress required anything of her. She knew Gloria would be angry and so she hesitated. She heard the sound of ice cubes clink into an empty glass again and she knew that her mistress would be drinking a lot more that night.

"Go on—go home to that ugly woman," Gloria growled to the empty room. "I'll get even." Juana waited some more. She hated it when the Señora acted like this. "He could have had the best," Gloria proclaimed to the empty room, "but he didn't have the balls for a real woman. Serves him right."

Juana shuffled into the study. "Can I run dee bath for chu, Señora?"

"What're you doing here?" Gloria sneered. She was sitting in an overstuffed chair. There were no lights in the room. Juana could barely make her out in the light that leaked into the room from the hallway. She had a fresh drink in her hand. The shadows that draped over her face made her look ugly.

"A hot bath would be nice, Señora," Juana sang in her most pleasing voice.

"No! No bath. I told you—go home," Gloria shouted. She waved her arm at Juana. Her voice was slurred. Juana knew there was nothing to do. 

She went home to José.

************* 

TO BE CONTINUED... 



The Brass Statuettes Ch. 20



Chapter 20 — The Frying Pan and the Fire 

It was just after ten when Frank pulled into his driveway. He'd been thinking about his encounter with Gloria all the while he drove home. It was hard to put it out of his mind. "Trudy was right. I sure didn't see that coming." 

The downstairs was dark, but he'd seen the bedroom light on from the street. He wondered if Trudy was still burned up. If the light was out by the time he got upstairs, he would know the answer. Margaret's light was on, too; so, he knew she was in her room. The last thing he wanted was another blow-up with their daughter listening in. 

He was pretty sure that Trudy had saved him dinner in the refrigerator. He didn't really want any, but he took a look, anyway. "Whew! She did save some." If she'd been really angry, she would've dumped it down the disposal. He decided to save it for lunch on Saturday.

Frank set his briefcase in the usual corner. He took off his jacket and slung it over his shoulder and loosened his tie. He stopped at Margaret's door and knocked. His daughter was lying prone on her bed with her shoes kicked off. There were open school books on the bed with her.

"How was school today?"

"Okay, I guess."

"That doesn't sound very exciting."

"It's Chemistry, Daddy. It's really hard."

"It's hard for everyone, Peggy. You've got to study it—there's no easy way around it. I think you took it too lightly when school first started. Now you're catching up."

"It's not just me. Everyone says it's hard. The teacher doesn't care. He just keeps piling on more and more."

"Welcome to the real world. This is a taste of what college is like. Go to your teacher for extra help. Be sure you have all your homework done first—at least whatever you can do. I'm sure he'll help you."

"Can you help me?"

"No," Frank answered, "it's been a long time and I was never that good at it. You'd better talk to your teacher."

The girl put on a frown. "But you work for a chemical company."

"Not that part of it," Frank was quick with the answer. "There's no easy way around it. You're smart enough to handle it if you put your mind to it. Just go to your teacher and get on the right track before you get too far behind."

"Maybe I could..."

"If I could pass it, you surely can," Frank insisted. "It was a hard subject for me. There were times I didn't think I could do it." His daughter said nothing, but offered a grudging nod. "And don't confuse study time with cell phone time," the father added. He said good night and closed the door behind him.

He walked down the hall to his and Trudy's bedroom and opened the door. The lamp over the bed was on. He saw Trudy in bed reading a magazine. She was wearing a cotton nightgown. He hoped that she'd say something when he walked in, but she didn't—and she didn't look up at him, either.

He walked to the closet and hung up his suit jacket.

"How did it go at Gloria's?" she finally asked.

Frank sighed. "It was a big waste of time. I shouldn't have gone." He took off his trousers and hung them up with the jacket.

"Who was there—besides you and Gloria, I mean?"

"Just us; I guess there were supposed to be more but they didn't show up."

"I'll bet!"

"Oh—and there was the maid."

"So, what did you do all this time?"

"I had a drink. Gloria just kept prattling on; she wasn't making much sense. She might have had a few before I got there; I can't say for sure. I kept asking her about the books and records for the Foundation and she didn't really answer. Then she finally showed them to me. They were a mess—strewn in a bunch of files. Some were even on the floor."

"Then, what?"

"I told her that I didn't think I could help her. I finished my drink and then I left. That was about it."

"What was Gloria wearing?" Trudy asked.

Frank paused and scratched his head. "To tell you the truth, I didn't really notice."

"You haven't had anything to eat, have you?"

"Gloria had some of those snack-things on a tray. I ate a couple of those."

"Snack things?" Trudy laughed.

"You know, melted cheese and bacon on crackers; that sort of thing."

"I left your dinner in the refrigerator. If you're hungry..."

"I thought I'd find something more appetizing up here," Frank interrupted.

Trudy laughed. Her eyes were bright and dancing again. "What makes you so sure about that?"

"Past experience, I guess." Frank tried to look serious, but he was letting a grin show through, and he knew it. He retreated to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash up. 

"You look smug," Trudy said when Frank returned to the bedroom. She hoisted her nightie over her head and tossed it on a chair. "I don't know why; you're lucky I'm still talking to you."

Frank saw that Trudy was trying to keep a serious face, too, but wasn't doing a very good job of it. As she sat in bed the covers hid her legs and waist, but her top half was bare to him. Frank had to admit that she truly did look quite appetizing. He paused a few feet from the edge of the bed, looking at her. She slid down and lay on her back.

"Well, don't just stand there," she urged him. "Come over here and turn out the light—and get that underwear off before you get in bed with me. Then, she let out a deep, throaty laugh—the one she he heard whenever she wanted him. 

The lights were out and Frank lay alongside her. She moved over closer to him. "I hope those little 'snack-things' were enough—because you're going to need all your strength by the time I'm through with you." He heard that laugh again and he knew she meant what she said. 

Frank felt a little bit guilty that he'd lied about what happened at Gloria's house. It seemed like the right thing to do. He was certain he'd never go back; the better way was to forget about it. Why make her deal with it all over again? He stopped thinking about it and turned his attention to pleasing her and being pleased by her. 

After a while he was hovering over her. He rested most of his weight on his elbows; his chest barely brushed her breasts, and in that way he felt them more. He prepared to enter her. He was between her legs; her body was open to him. He felt her long legs wrapped around his and her arms capturing him around his shoulders. He pressed forward a little, looking for that exact place. "Am I your only one?" she whispered in his ear in that moment of truthfulness known by man and wife.

"Yes, you are," he whispered back. 

She thrust her hips up at his; he went a little bit into her. She pressed up again. She put him in a little further and then puffed out a breath. He pressed back and he was in all the way. He heard her moan with pleasure, and then he did, too..

They didn't speak again, even for several minutes after they'd finished. He was lying on his back and she lay alongside him with her head on his shoulder. It was their usual after-lovemaking position. She had made a few purring sounds that told Frank that she was happy. That meant that he was happy, too.

"So, you think I was smug," he teased her.

"Mmmm," she mewed and pressed herself tighter against him. "I was just reminded that you have a good reason to be smug," she answered in a drowsy voice. He chuckled a little and kissed her forehead.

His stomach growled. "It sounds like Gloria's snack-things weren't enough, after all," he said.

"I'll make you a big breakfast in the morning," she replied, sounding like she was nearly asleep. "You'll have to wait until then."

************ 

The next day was Wednesday, which meant that it was calendar day for Western Chemical and its quest for an injunction against the SEC impound of its financial statements. Frank was in his office waiting for the news. He knew that he shouldn't expect any before lunch. It was hard to get the question out of his mind. He wished that Crossman hadn't insisted that he stay away from the courtroom—but Al knew best in these things and Tyler backed Al up.

He reviewed some forecast details with Aaron. It looked like the numbers were coming out as expected. A lot depended on whether Blake's plant refurbishment plan went through. He told Aaron to develop scenarios with and without it, as well as several at different stages of releasing the Wertheim reserve. The main issue became more Cash Flow than Net Income.

"When you're finished with that, report to Blake Hart and tell him you're ready to devote full time to his Plant Refurbishment Project. You have to get him to a point where he can present it to Mr. Warner and the rest of the Directors. In fact, treat it like part of the forecast. Squeeze the finishing touches on the forecast in when you have time."

"Should I stay in the old Controller's Office?" Aaron asked.

"Definitely yes," Frank replied. "Stay there until I tell you to move out."

Jeannette interrupted them from the intercom. "Mr. Smith and Mr. Hart are here for your meeting."

"Good—send them in. Bring in some more coffee when you can, too, please—and I think we'll order lunch in. We'll have a working lunch."

Aaron packed up his file and got ready to leave. "I'll bring in the numbers when I'm done," he said.

"No—no," Frank stopped him. "Stay here for this meeting. This has to do with Blake's project. You can have lunch with us."

Tyler and Blake came in and sat down. Jeannette followed him into the room and began taking lunch orders. "You guys know Aaron Fishman, right?" Frank asked. "I'm assigning him to Blake to help on this project."

Blake nodded, but Tyler spoke up. "I haven't had the pleasure," he said and they shook hands. 

"Put something for yourself on the lunch list, Jeannette," Frank said. She thanked Frank and set a fresh carafe of coffee on the table before she left the room.

"Hell of a secretary, Frank," Blake attested.

"Don't get any ideas," Frank said. "She's mine."

"I met with the Texas City people," Tyler reported. "It was just preliminary. I made it that way so they'd have nothing to take to the press before we want them to."

"Good, Tyler. What was their general take on it?" Frank asked.

"They'll be okay. It looks like they'll want to suspend the agreement until the project is complete so they get the number of months they bargained for."

"Reasonable," Frank said. "What else?"

"The potential clinker is that a couple of Commissioners mentioned something about mandating local labor content for the refurbishment construction."

"That would be a problem," Blake said. "Some of that work is pretty specialized. It might not be possible to get the right people locally. You better talk to me before you go too far in that direction."

"I think we can work around it—maybe a certain percentage local," Tyler said.

"Maybe; we'd have to take a look at it first," Blake insisted.

"What about infrastructure?" Frank asked. "Road widening, sewers, sidewalks; that type of thing?"

"We haven't got that far," Blake said. "We could estimate..."

"I was thinking we could pay for some improvements in the vicinity of the plant up front in return for added future tax relief. That would absorb some spare cash and extend our commitment there," Frank said.

"What's your thinking here, Frank?" Tyler asked.

"The commitment would help us ward off predators, like Mueller, who figure on taking over the company on the cheap," Frank explained. "It would absorb our spare cash so it couldn't be used against us, and put a contingent liability on the Balance Sheet. At the same time, it would extend our tax advantages further into the future."

"A poison pill," Tyler said.

"Not quite poison," Frank said. "It would put a bitter taste on the pill, for anyone looking to turn a quick buck on the company." 

"Sounds like good thinking," Blake said. "Have you spoken with Alvin about it?"

"No, he's got enough to think about already."

"But..."

The buzzer on the intercom interrupted Blake. "Mr. Crossman is on is on the line," Jeannette said through the speaker.

"I've gotta take this," Frank said. "This has to be the ruling on the injunction against the SEC." Frank ran to the phone on his desk and pickled up the receiver.

"Hello, Al—Frank Bennett here." He listened for a minute, then punched the air with his fist. "Good work, Al," Frank said. "I'll talk to you later."

Frank returned to the table. "It's what we were hoping for. They actually sent an SEC lawyer down here just to tell the judge they were dropping the matter. Crossman thinks it was spur of the moment. He's guessing that they were originally going to fight it, but then decided not to."

"Geez, that's weird," Tyler mused. "After going through this all these weeks and then just throw in the sponge? So the judge never gave his ruling?"

"No. Al said he was good and mad, though. He said that he guessed the SEC people knew it was going against them and didn't want that on the record, so they dropped it to take it off the books."

"I don't blame the judge for getting pissed," Blake said. "I don't feel too kindly about them, myself. They've put us all through hell these last few months."

"It's not over yet," Frank advised, "but, the worst is over. The 10-Q will be on the street in about an hour."

"This is good news all around," Tyler said. "You deserve the credit, Frank."

"Naw," Frank answered. "Crossman does; you guys do, too for keeping the Company on the right track." He looked at the two vice-presidents, who looked back shaking their heads. "Oh, hell!" he admitted, "We all do."

"We ought to go down and let Alvin know," Tyler said.

"You guys go ahead," Frank said. "I've got to make some calls. Come on back at five and we'll have a drink to celebrate. You too, Aaron. Bring Alvin along. God knows—I've drunk enough of his private stock lately. Hey, bring Jason along, too. We've got to make him more a part of the team. He can celebrate because now we can go out and get his programs funded."

************ 

Frank had just completed his phone call with Murray Shoreham. He called Murray to let him know that the impound by the SEC was lifted. Murray was happy to hear it. He also asked about the problem with his advance copy of the 10-Q. He was worried, a bit late, that he'd committed a big mistake by talking too much about it. Frank told him he hadn't had time to look into it.

He was about to make his next call when Jeannette walked into his office. Frank stopped what he was doing. Jeannette never came into the office when Frank's door was closed without good reason.

"What's up, Jeannette?"

"Frank, there's a person in the waiting room who wants to see you. She doesn't have an appointment. She says she's with the SEC. She gave me her card.

She handed Frank the card and he read the name: Nadine Persky. "What in hell is she doing here? How did she get past Security?" 

"She didn't say," Jeannette said. "Should I tell her you don't have time?"

"It's a tempting idea," Frank said, "but I suppose not. Send her in." He put on his suit jacket.

Jeannette left and returned in a half minute with Frank's unannounced guest. "Frank, this is Ms. Persky." 

Frank rose from his chair and walked from behind his desk. He extended his hand. "Miss Persky, I hadn't been expecting you. Can I offer you something?" 

"No, I won't be here very long." She grasped his hand for the obligatory shake and then helped herself to a chair in front of Frank's desk. Frank noticed that her hand felt cold—and that wasn't the only cold thing about her.

Frank walked to his office chair and took his seat. He looked at the person who had been at the core of his every vexation in recent memory. He saw a person who wasn't particularly attractive, and the expression on her face made her look less so.

"Is it 'Miss' Persky?" Frank asked.

"I prefer 'Ms.', if you please," she answered, and Frank could tell that his question annoyed her.

Frank pegged her at about thirty. She was short at about five-two. She wasn't obese, but too heavy for her height. Her hair was dark brown and curly—not very long. She wore a navy business suit that appeared to be about a size too big. 

"Okay, Ms. Persky," Frank said. "You came to see me. I guess the ball's in your court."

She shifted in her chair and hesitated. Frank was about to say something when she drew a deep breath. "Well, you won, didn't you?"

Frank looked away for a second before he answered. "I wouldn't say that 'winning' describes it very well. You've created a lot of trouble for this Company. Frankly, I can't understand the reason."

"We had the authority..."

"Ms. Persky, we're a legit company. We employ a lot of people all around the world and make many good products. Our books are clean as a whistle, which is a fact that you know as well as I do. Now, I repeat my question: I don't understand why you've put our Company in jeopardy like you have."

"That was a slick move, calling in the FBI before we had a chance to come in and take control of the case."

"You're making this personal, Ms. Persky. That's a big mistake. It was never personal for us. I guess it was for you, and that explains a lot of things to me." 

"For me, there's no separating professional and personal," she said. "I'm dedicated to..."

Frank let a sigh and held his hand to stop her. "Is that why you're here—to tell me that? You came all the way down here from Washington just to tell me how dedicated you are; because you could have sent a letter to the judge to tell him that you were giving up. You didn't have to appear in person."

Persky's face turned red. "Not only that," she said. "There's something else I wanted to tell you face-to-face."

"Oh yeah—what's that?"

"It's just this," she said. "Although we're giving up the case against Western, we're opening one against you."

"Against me?" Frank asked. "What the hell for?"

"For giving a bootleg copy of the 10-Q to Murray Shoreham while it was impounded. You knew better than that—or at least, you should have."

"You can't prove that."

"I've got a deposition on my desk back in Washington. I wasn't going to act on it, but when you made a speech in front of a union and accused us of prolonging the case to punish you even though we couldn't win—well, I had to." 

Frank sat back in his chair and shook his head. It had been a good day up until then. "Well, isn't that what you did?"

"That's for me to know," she replied. "But I won't stand for anyone to say that—especially to a union meeting."

"So, that's it? It is personal, isn't it?"

"I just wanted to see the look on your face when I told you." She paused; Frank didn't reply. "You'll get a summons by the end of the week." 

"Okay," Frank said, "is that it?"

"If you had just cooperated from the start, this could have all been avoided. You could've gotten out of it with a fine and a slap on the wrist. Now..."

"I guess our meeting's over," Frank said, "unless there's something else."

"You could tell your secretary to call me a cab. I've got to catch a flight back to Washington."

"I'll do better," Frank said, "just to show you it isn't personal." 

He flipped the switch on the intercom. "Jeannette, would you request a company car to drive Ms. Persky to the airport, please?"

"Don't do me any favors," she said, "especially considering..."

"Call it professional courtesy," Frank said. "It's important to keep things professional."

********* 

Frank called Tyler Smith to his office and told him what had happened during Persky's surprise visit.

"Did you actually give Shoreham the bootleg copy?" Tyler asked.

"I left it out so he could decide to take it or not," Frank said. 'I gave him access to my computer equipment and internet access. If he wanted it, it was there for the taking."

"So you left it out on purpose?" 

"Yes, I left it out hoping that he'd take a copy," Frank confessed. "I didn't tell him to, but it was there and I knew he wanted it. It was survival. If he'd dumped our shares, the stock would've collapsed. He got his copy and now he's solid in our corner."




The Brass Statuettes Ch. 20



Tyler shrugged. "It could be trouble," he said, "but I don't think so. Their case is weak. Worst case is a misdemeanor and a year's suspension. I doubt it will come to that. They can't prove intent—and they'd have to come down here to a Texas jury."

"What are they up to, then," Frank asked.

"I think it's like you said. It's personal with this 'Persky' person. As of right now, it's just a threat. Let's see if they serve you."

"What do mean, 'a year's suspension'?"

"You could be barred from acting as a corporate officer for a year—but I wouldn't start worrying about that yet. You might want to think about hiring a lawyer, though. I can't represent you; it'd be a conflict. I think it'll be the same for Crossman. He'll probably recommend someone."

"I better tell Alvin. First I'll call Murray."

"I'd hold off on talking to Murray," Tyler said. "Let's see if he gets served. Then, we'll know they're serious. Knowing Murray, he'll be on the horn to you about two seconds after he reads the first sentence."

"He should know he's got a mole in his organization," Frank said.

"That mole is another good reason not to call him. Whatever you two talk about could end up with this Nadine person."

Jeannette buzzed Frank on the intercom. "Mr. Warner wants to see you and Mr. Smith in his office right away."

"It looks like Alvin already knows," Frank said.

"I guess we'd better go down there," Tyler said.

When they arrived at Alvin's office they found Al Crossman sitting at the conference table.

"News travels fast," Frank said.

"Miss Persky told me what she planned to do at the courthouse," Crossman told them.

"She likes to be called 'Ms.' Persky," Franks reported with a sneer.

"Whatever, it's a damn shame," Alvin lamented.

"I don't think it's time to play 'Taps' for Frank yet," Tyler said. "All we have right now is a verbal threat. Frank hasn't even been served.

"It's a matter of time," Crossman said. "We should start thinking about some kind of offer."

"Offer?" Frank asked. "I've done nothing wrong. The hell with 'em."

"It might be the best way to go," Crossman said. "What we don't need is more trouble."

"I'd recommend going over Persky's head," Tyler said. "See if her boss thinks this is a good idea, or if this Nadine-person's gone off the reservation. The way Frank told me, it sounds like she has a personal grudge—and I'd bet a local judge and jury would see it the same way, too."

"I like Tyler's approach," Frank said. 

"But, it's true—you gave the 10-Q to Murray."

"He was just careless and left it out," Tyler said. "He got called away and Murray made the mistake of thinking that Frank wanted him to have it."

"We all know what that story is," Crossman countered. "It sounds pretty thin to me."

"Whose side are you on?" Frank demanded.

"I have to be on the corporation's side," Crossman explained. "It's nothing personal, but you know who my client is. If your interests conflict with my client's, I have only one way to go."

"We're all on the same team at this point," Alvin said. "It's in the corporate interest to protect Frank. He's our CFO. Why wouldn't it be in our interest to protect him?"

"Just stating the facts," Crossman pleaded.

"I say we sit tight until Frank gets served," Tyler said. "When that happens, someone has to make the call to Persky's boss. I can do it. Maybe it should be Al."

"I'm not convinced of that," Crossman said. "Going higher-up has risks. The higher you go, the bigger the charges can get. We should deal with Nadine Persky. If we just make a deal to..."

"I think Tyler's on the button," Frank declared. "If necessary, I'll make the call."

Crossman sat back in his chair shaking his head.

"For the moment," Tyler reminded them, "it's nothing but a verbal threat."

**************** 

Alvin stayed away from Frank's mini-celebration. The others each stopped in and it didn't take long to polish off one of Frank's bottles of vintage scotch. Even Jeannette had one.

As Tyler had so advised, Frank put the worry about Nadine Persky's threat aside for the time being. He decided during the afternoon to tell Trudy about it when he got home that night. There was already a nagging voice in his ear that scolded him about hiding Gloria's attempted run at him. "Lesser of two evils." One little voice was enough; he got the hint.

People filed in, had a drink and filed out and went home. It was true for nearly all. Jason Lowell was the lone holdout. He'd taken a shot glass of scotch to the alcove and sat in an upholstered chair and nursed the short dram. As Frank shook hands and was patted on the back he watched Jason out of the corner of his eye.

In a short time everyone had left. Frank had opened a second bottle for the last few people. He was about to put it away, but walked over to Jason instead. He set his own glass on the coffee table and poured in a small amount of whisky. Jason looked up at him. Frank topped off Jason, too.

"I'll have one with you," Frank said. "Then we gotta go. It'll be that, or we'll have to call a cab to carry us home."

"I'm not used to drinking scotch,' Jason said. "I was just nursing this."

"Just leave it if it's not something you like," Frank told him. "I'll pour it down the sink."

"Oh, I like it well enough," Jason protested. "I'm just not used to it. I was drinking it slow."

Frank shrugged and they sipped their whiskies without speaking for several minutes. Frank noticed that very little of Jason's scotch was gone.

"It doesn't age in the glass, Jason."

"Huh," Jason grunted, as if Frank had awakened him.

"I said that the whiskey doesn't age in the glass. It's my way of asking, 'what's up'. I can see you've got something on your mind."

"I just wish I knew,' Jason said. "Do you ever wonder what you're doing here?"

"I dunno," Frank answered. "I'm usually too busy to wonder about things like that." He took a sip of whiskey. He could see that Jason wasn't satisfied with the answer.

"I will tell you a story, though," Frank continued. "It's a true one." He poured a little more scotch into his glass. He loosened his tie and put his feet on the coffee table.

"You know, here in Texas, it rankles some people that I drink scotch instead of bourbon. I never touch tequila. Truth is, I didn't grow up here. I'm originally from New Jersey, and there, everyone drinks scotch like they drink bourbon down here."

"Then how did you come to live here?" Jason asked.

"Just by chance," Frank answered. "I was hired by a national accounting firm out of college. I started in the New York City office. One night I was in a bar after work with some of the other young staffers. One of the partners was there and he mentioned that they might need people to relocate to Houston. I thought he was kidding, and I'd had a couple of drinks. I said 'sure, what the hell...' Next thing I know, I'm working down here rooting for the Astros instead of the Yankees."

"Good story," Jason laughed.

"Like I said, it's a true one."

"Did Trudy mind it when you decided to move here."

"She seemed okay with it," Frank laughed. "She was already here when I got here. She had a job at the local office where I was assigned. The rest, you might say, is history." Frank tossed down the rest of what was left in his glass. "What I'm trying to tell you is this, Jason. You can't waste time worrying about things like that. We all get to some place one way or another. What matters is that you do the best wherever you find yourself. It doesn't matter how you got there. Keep your mind on what you're about—not what you used to be about, or might be. Otherwise, you'll drive yourself nuts."

"That's how you see it?" Jason asked. "It's that easy for you?"

"Sure, why not?"

TO BE CONTINUED...



The Brass Statuettes Ch. 21



Chapter 21 — Escape

Everyday Frank waited in his office for the summons from the SEC. Al Crossman told him it might not be an official summons, but a letter informing him that he was the target of an SEC investigation. Al told him that was the next best thing to an actual summons. Frank tried to forget about it. It wasn't easy and his decision to tell Trudy about it was causing him some serious doubts. Trudy fretted over it more even more than he did. 

Frank found out that Floyd was taking his vacation, and that meant no eye-opening coffee first thing in the morning. That was hard to get used to, too. He was doubly glad when he heard Jeannette arriving.

The forecast was complete. Aaron had done a good job putting it together and he was helping Blake prepare the proposal for the plant refurbishments in Bayonne and Texas City. Frank scheduled a presentation to Alvin and the Board. He had press releases ready and then they'd have the conference calls with the Wall Street boys. Frank figured to use them as a springboard to finalizing his financing package for the R&D program. So, as Frank sat back sipping on the coffee that Jeannette finally placed in front of him, it seemed that Nadine Persky's hubris was having little effect on Western Chemical at that moment in time.

Agent Henderson surprised Frank when he stuck his head into the office.

"Got a minute?" he asked Frank.

"I didn't know you guys were back," Frank said as he motioned him to a chair. "Coffee?"

Henderson took a chair across the desk from Frank but declined the coffee offer. "It's just me today," he told Frank, "and I won't be here that long. I just came by to ask you a few questions." 

"Go for it," Frank replied.

"Does the name 'Trans-Atlantic Partners' mean anything to you?" Henderson asked.

"Not a thing. What is it?"

"I followed up on the lead you gave me—that big block trade of Western Stock," Henderson explained.

"I forgot all about it," Frank said. "It seems like a long time ago."

"It took some doing to get the information," Henderson said. "I'm not even all the way to the bottom, yet. It may turn out that the lead you gave me might be a good one."

"I'm listening," Frank said.

"The outfit I just mentioned is a Swiss partnership. It was that entity that made the trade on that block of stock through an attorney in New York."

"So, who are the partners?"

"That's what I don't know—yet, anyway," Henderson said. "The New York lawyer's not talking and you know about Swiss secrecy laws. It's not quite like it used to be, but that information doesn't come forth very easy. We've had to go through our embassy over there to request it."

"For all we know, it could have been a legit trade," Frank said. "But, I've got this feeling about it that won't go away."

"All I know is that it's worth finding out," Henderson said. "So, you confirm that you don't know anything about this partnership? What about the other officers?"

"Not that I know of," Frank said. "They have to fill out disclosure forms each year. I could get them for you. I don't remember everything on them."

"We've already got copies of them," Henderson said. "What about outside directors?"

"They fill out the same forms."

"Whoever it is, they're obviously trying to get the money offshore."

"Mueller?" Frank mused to himself.

"Who's that?" Henderson demanded. "Don't you have a director by that name?"

"Yeah, he's a German bank president."

"That could be just the connection," Henderson said. "Foreign partnership; access to banking; right next door to Switzerland."

"I don't know..." Frank began.

"We've got to check him out."

"It would be against Mueller's interest to do something to drive up the stock price," Frank explained. "He'd just disclosed that he was trying to buy up shares on the cheap to try to take control of the company."

"Can't sort that out now; he's got to be checked out. It might be a smokescreen—who knows?"

"You can't do anything until you've got the principals' identities, can you?"

"No, not really. It's anyone's guess when they might come through." 

"Then, there's no point in getting Mueller hot-and-bothered right now," Frank said. He paused for a second. "Did you get that other information I sent over to you?"

"Yes," Henderson answered. "That's pretty cut and dried. It has to be a big personal disappointment."

"It is," Frank answered. He looked away from Henderson—out the window—and then turned back to face him. "The facts speak; I can't change them. When are you gonna do what you've gotta do?"

"We could act on it right away," Henderson replied. "It might be a good idea to hold off for a little while. We can see what other mischief they might be up to—make sure that we've got the whole scheme uncovered. They're not going anywhere."

"I suppose so," Frank sighed.

"These insider cases are never easy. Something like this always happens," Henderson said. "Like you said, 'the facts speak'."

"I'd just like to get it over with," Frank admitted. 

"If this Swiss thing turns into something, it looks like it will be over soon," Henderson acknowledged. "We'll have both ends of the package tied up." 

*************** 

Brenda parked her car in the driveway at Gloria's house. Her mentor sounded agitated on the phone. She assumed it was because she'd delayed a few days to check in after returning from Austin where she met up with Alvin. Brenda, herself, wondered why she hadn't reported to Gloria like the good soldier that she usually was. There was an uneasy feeling inside her.

Juana opened the door before she had a chance to ring the bell. She must have seen the car approaching in the long lane that led to the highway. Brenda thought that Juana looked dour. She'd never really hit it off with Gloria's maid—not that it was important to her. Juana's moods were handy, however, in gauging Gloria's moods and giving her some advance warning when she needed it. This looked like one of those days when she would need it.

"Dee Señora is on dee veranda," Juana said and led Brenda to the large French doors and opened them. "Señora, ees Señora Hart," she announced.

"I know who it is," Gloria sneered. "Don't you think I can recognize my own friends?"

Juana said nothing; she bowed her head and retreated to the safety of the house. Brenda approached the round patio table where Gloria sat glowering at her.

"Were you waiting for me to beg you to come over?" Gloria taunted. "Were you expecting an engraved invitation?"

"You know better that that, Gloria. I just had some personal things to attend to. Don't forget that I gave up two days to attend to your business and..."

"I know that," Gloria interrupted. "Do you think I'd forget when I arrange for someone to boink my own dear husband?"

"It was your idea, Gloria; and I thought I was more than just someone."

Oh, yes, yes. C'mon, Bren—don't be that way. I should be the sensitive one. After all..."

"After all—what?" Brenda protested. "Are you saying it only meant something to you? Do you think I didn't feel anything about this? Did you wonder how I squared it with Blake?"

"This isn't like you, Bren. You look nervous. Let's have a drink."

"I suppose I could use one." She walked to the bar set up in the corner of the veranda. "The usual for you?" she asked Gloria.

"I guess so," Gloria answered. Brenda poured the vodka and iced tea for Gloria. She poured vodka over ice for herself.

"Don't you want some lime in it?" Gloria asked. Brenda shook her head. "I don't know how you can drink it straight. I'd at least want to have some lime in it; something to take the taste of the vodka away. Lime tastes better than vodka."

"That's what we've come to," Brenda mumbled.

"What's that, Bren? I didn't quite hear what you said."

"I just said that I'd like to see what the vodka really tastes like without the lime to cover it over. Why not taste things like they really are?"

"You mean honest vodka, straight up?"

"Yeah," Brenda answered, "I might even like it. It's been a long time since..." Brenda's voice trailed off. 

"Help yourself," Gloria said. "Everyone has to try it that way once. I surely did. You'll be back to putting lime in it soon enough."

Brenda sipped on her drink. It burned her throat going down, but it wasn't half-bad. It occurred to her that the pretense of the lime was unnecessary. "I guess that if I liked lime better than vodka, I'd just have lime."

"Whatever," Gloria said in a languid voice. 

Brenda leaned back in her chair and raised the glass to her lips again. She drank slower. It occurred to her that Gloria gulped so fast she barely tasted what she was drinking.

"Don't you want to know how it went?" Brenda asked.

"What went?" 

"You know—my trip to Austin; me and Alvin."

Gloria sighed. "Okay, how did it go?"

"It didn't," Brenda told her. 

"Say what?" Gloria demanded and sat up.

"Just what I said. I met up with him, alright. He turned me down."

"Turned you down?" Gloria asked, squinting like she always did when she didn't understand something.

"That's right; I asked him why, so he bought me a drink. He was very nice about it. He explained everything. He told me that it was different now; he said that he wouldn't feel right—that you and he..."

"What the..." 

"I think he loves you, Gloria."

"Oh, I suppose that he thinks he does," Gloria said. "He's a fool; I'll take care of that later."

"Don't make 'later' into 'too late'," Brenda said. "Why not take him at his word? It's worth thinking about. It would be that storybook that we always thought was closed. At least, that's how I see it."

"But you stayed over; so did he."

"He was already planning on staying. He was on his way to play poker with some people he knows when I caught up with him. He would have stayed over, anyway. I just got a single room and watched a movie. It was kind of nice. It gave me a chance to be by myself for a while—to think about a few things." "Oh, now I see," Gloria scoffed, "he turned you down for a card game. Of course! That's why you're acting this way. He hurt your pride. It's okay—it'll be our little secret." 

"You weren't listening to me, Gloria; you only heard the parts you wanted to. I told you—I believe what Alvin said. He might have been on his way to play cards, but it would have been the same if he hadn't been. You should listen to me."

"Well, it has been different between me and Alvin lately. But, I never said that I expected anything of him. This ruins everything."

Brenda set her glass down. She peered at Gloria and tried to understand what she'd just heard her say. "Ruins? How can you say that, Gloria? I don't think you heard me. I said that he loves you."

"But that ties me down, Bren, and I have things to do—a lot of things to do."

"After I spoke with Alvin, I started thinking of Blake," Brenda confided. "I started wondering if it's too late for us."

"Late? Of course it's too late!" Gloria shouted. "It was too late when it started. You can't have it both ways. I learned that long ago. What we've got—we chose this life so that we could have it. It's your dues; you've got to pay them." 

"I once thought that was so. Now, I'm not so sure. You might be right, but..."

"Of course I am," Gloria insisted. "Get yourself another drink. You'll feel better."

"But I'd like to think ..."

"Don't think," Gloria said. "I'll think for you. You can't change things with Blake. If you try, he'll push you away. Then you won't have any part of him and you won't have anything else, either. You'll be out in the cold. I wouldn't take that risk if I were you. Business is business and sometimes it's rough."

Brenda got up and walked to the bar where the vodka waited for her. She poured it over the ice. She hesitated a moment and sighed while she looked through the clear liquid to the bottom of her glass. It was hard to make out exactly what was waiting on the bottom with the ice distorting the image. She wondered when she would have the courage to try it straight again. She poured some lime juice on top. It clouded over everything in the glass and she couldn't see the bottom of it at all; and that made it easier to drink. She was being practical.

"At least, the thing with Trudy is out of the way," she said as she retook her chair. The alcohol was giving her a buzz. "Tell me, how was it with Frank? I never thought I'd see the day Frank Bennett got taken down. My hat's off to you, Gloria."

"It's not over," Gloria muttered as she ground her teeth together. "Not over by a long shot."

"C'mon, Gloria; give Trudy a break. You already got Frank. What more can you take from her?"

"It's not over," Gloria repeated.

"I don't get it," Brenda said. She thought for a moment. A question occurred to her, but she was almost afraid to ask it. "You did do it with Frank—right?"

"He's not the man everyone thinks he is," Gloria explained. "It was there for him to take, but he ran out on me—right in front of Juana. He lost his nerve. He ran right out of here and home to that ugly scarecrow of his. Now I've got to get even."

"So Alvin turned me down and Frank did the same to you. We both pimped ourselves and we have nothing to show for it." 

"So I guess no harm done," Gloria said.

"It makes me want another drink. Then, I'll believe it."

"That we've got in spades, Bren."

"But we still pimped ourselves. We couldn't even close the deal. There's not much to be proud of, but I guess that's what we've come to."

************* 

Brenda and Gloria sat on the veranda drinking and thinking. Through the alcohol haze, Brenda tried to remember exactly what she'd said in the preceding minutes. When the buzz from the vodka wore off she remembered; she knew she'd said it but the echo sounded like someone who vaguely resembled her—not the real her. It would have been wise to retract it all—laugh it off—but for some reason she couldn't bring herself to take it back. She'd have to live it down. 

She hoped, for a moment, that Gloria would forget it, but she knew that Gloria stored everything in her memory. She might twist her confidences and re-expose them out of context; use them as she saw fit to use them; it was all there for Gloria to use at will. Brenda thought about the many such recollections from times past that were at Gloria's fingertips. "And there is my prison," she thought. "I've made the bars of my own cell and handed her the key."

"We've got to get things back to normal," she said to Gloria as she emptied her glass.

"I'm with you there," Gloria said in a half-hearted way.

"Whatever passes for normal, anyway," Brenda clarified. Gloria didn't answer. Brenda knew it would be up to her to make it all happen. It would be done in Gloria's name, but it would be her work to do. She had to get Gloria roused and functioning.

"It was so simple when all we had to worry about is planning our visits to that school and helping the children with their ABC's," Brenda continued.

"Oh, yes," Gloria agreed. "That was a happier time. The children loved me—and I loved them. It's over now."

"Over—why over?" Brenda queried. She could think of no reason why it should be over. "It can't be, Gloria. It was your favorite thing to do. It's one of the few good things to hold on to."

"Used to be," Gloria slurred as she slumped in her chair. "Trudy ruined it. She had to do that little dance with the ABC's, and then she became Maddy's favorite. That's why I have to get even with Trudy."

Brenda took a deep breath. Even with the drinks she knew the truth. It was no use. Gloria's truth was different, and in the end it would be Gloria's truth that won out. Brenda knew her job and that was to make sanity out of it.

"We'll need Darlene and Ashley back with us. Ashley was pretty embarrassed by the Alvin thing. I think it took her by surprise. And, I haven't heard a thing from Darlene in quite a while."

"Ashley let us down. She's a fake, a phony. The one time I asked..."

"If you had given her some advance warning—some time to get used to the idea, Gloria, she'd have come around. Anyway, I think we need her back. I'm not sure what's going on with Darlene. I have a feeling there's change coming soon with her. That leaves only you and me, so I think we need to make peace with Ashley."

"If you say so, Bren."

"I do say so. Leave it to me. I'll call her up and get her back. She might have been scared by the prospect of hitting on Alvin in Austin, but she wants to belong. As long as we don't press too hard, she'll come back. I'll check with Darlene, too."

"You're so right, Bren, dear. What would I do without you? No one else can bring me to my senses."

"You might want to think about making up with Trudy, too," Brenda said.

"You know, Bren, I think you're right. We'll bring them all back. After we've made up, we'll all go down to Morningside School and be with the children."

Brenda thought about pouring herself a refill. She passed. She still felt a little tipsy, but the feeling wasn't good like it usually was.

"We should have a meeting of the Board of the Foundation," Brenda reminded Gloria. "Absolutely," Gloria replied. "It's too bad—pool season is over. We could all work out in the mini-gym afterward."

A warm feeling entered Brenda in the belly. "We certainly haven't done that in too long a time," she said.

"You're so right, Brenda," Gloria agreed, "and we will—soon." 

"Gloria, I thought..."

"Oh! You thought we would get together in the mini-gym right now? I'm so sorry. We will soon, dear. There's so much to think about. Bring Darlene and Ashley back and then we will."

*************** 

A few days later Frank was in his office discussing the R&D financing arrangements with Jim Sweeney. The deal was close—close enough to smell and taste. 

"When this is over, I'm taking Trudy on a vacation," Frank said.

"You deserve one," Jim replied. "This whole thing makes a lot of sense for us, and the investors. Really nice work, Frank."

"I've got to get moving on hiring a new Controller as soon as my plate is clean," Frank continued.

"I can give you a second opinion, if you'd like me to," Jim offered. "Don't try to find the perfect candidate. It's easy to fall into that rut when you're trying to replace yourself. Have any internal candidates? What about that young man who was working on the forecast. He seemed to be a sharp, young guy."

"Too green," Frank said, "and no SEC reporting experience. He's just not ready. I was thinking of sending him to one of the divisions to be Controller so he can get some seasoning. I'm not sure that he'd move. He's earned something for his efforts."

"Makes sense," Sweeney said. "I think you need..."

Jeannette cut Jim short with a buzz on the intercom. "Mr. Smith wants to know if he can see you right away. He says it's important."

"Send him in," Frank spoke into the box.

Tyler bounded into the office as soon as Jeannette clicked off the intercom. Jeannette closed the door behind him. "Sorry to break in, gentlemen," Tyler said. "Get on the internet, Frank. Take a look at call options on Western stock."

Frank did as Tyler asked. He studied the computer screen for a few minutes.

Do you see it, Frank." Tyler asked.

"Indeed, I do," Frank answered.

"What gives?" Jim asked. "Let me in on it."

"Somebody is buying out-of-the-money call options on Western Stock in a big way," Tyler said.

"It's the other half of the insider trading," Frank said. "There were the short sales and the put options. Then there was that big block that traded to cover the shorts and now these Calls are the counterpoint of the Puts."

"Sure seems like it," Sweeney agreed. "What're going to do about it?"

"Only one thing to do," Frank answered. "Give Henderson a call."

"I'll get out of your hair while you do that," Sweeney said. "I think we about covered things, anyway."




The Brass Statuettes Ch. 21



They shook hands and then Frank asked Tyler Smith to stay with him while he called the FBI. 

************** 

While Frank was on the phone with Agent Henderson, Al Crossman and Alvin were meeting in the Chairman's office.

"This is the wrong time and place for that, Al. Frank is the star right now. The big shareholders are behind him and he has this financing plan just about under his belt. I can hardly let him go now."

"I've got it figured out," Crossman explained. "We'll publicize Nadine Persky's investigation and say that Frank was asked to step down to avoid any appearance of wrongdoing, and so on and so forth. Besides getting rid of Frank, that does a number of things for us."

"You'll have to explain this to me again," Alvin said.

"First of all, we preempt the SEC. Better to get it out on our own terms than according to theirs. Hell, once it's out, they may even back off and deny the whole thing. On top of that, it gets Herr Mueller back on our side. And finally, it gives the company a squeaky-clean image in a time when not many companies can say they have one."

"It seems a shame," Alvin said. "Frank's a damn fine man. Doin' a fine job, too."

"We'll let him resign. He'll be better off, too. He'll latch on somewhere else."

"There's a catch," Alvin said. "I think he's got Blake Hart and Tyler Smith behind him. They might go if he does. And, we both know Jim Sweeney's in his corner."

"Yeah, but not Jason Lowell. I've heard that Lowell is thinking of jumping ship because of Frank. You could say it was because of Frank's animosity toward Jason. After all, Jason's a key guy."

"He's a wimp, and we both know it," Alvin countered. 

"A wimp who has a PhD and a lot of credentials," Crossman argued. "It's not a personality contest. Sweeney will have to go, too."

"If we do this to Frank, you won't have to tell Jim twice. He'll be outta here, too."

"So you're agreed..."

"I've got to think it over, Al. I don't want to lose Mueller. At least, I'm standing pat until this R&D financing is put to bed. And, I want to think of a contingency plan in case I lose the other two. Then, we'll see."

"You better not waste too much time," Crossman warned. "I think Mueller is ready to bolt right now."

*************** 

A few days later Frank and Alvin were on the corporate Jet, heading for Chicago. Jim Sweeney was with them. Tyler Smith had been in New York and would meet up with them at their hotel. They were on their final leg of their quest for the financing of the R&D program. Chicago was the agreed-upon venue for a wrap-up meeting. All the players would be there. Even Murray Shoreham was flying in from the coast.

Once they were at altitude the flight would be a little more than two hours. There was a festive mood among them. Just enough time to nurse a drink until it was time to prepare for landing. Frank had his usual scotch. Alvin and Sweeney had their customary bourbons.

"Got any last minute advice for the presentation tomorrow?" Alvin asked.

"They've all seen the numbers already," Frank answered. "I think they just want to press the flesh and make certain everyone's on board."

"It's your show, Frank," Jim said. "You've brought us this far. Alvin and I are here for window dressing."

"I'll second that," Alvin said. "Without you, we wouldn't be here. You've done an outstanding job. You did it under tough circumstances, too."

"Thanks, Alvin. I appreciate you saying that. We have to remember we're only ninety percent of the way there."

"I know, I know," Alvin replied. "I'm not worried. I just wonder if we should have brought Jason along. The money's for his program, after all."

"It was a tough call, Alvin. Jason has a way of flipping out at the wrong moment. We could get on the phone and tell him to get on the red-eye and show up at the meeting. It's up to you, but if you're asking me, I'd rather not take the chance."

"If these are finance guys, all of Jason's formulas will just put them to sleep. I think you can handle it just as well in layman's terms, Alvin," Sweeney said.

"Besides, they just want to know how much of the stuff we can sell, not how to make it," Frank reminded him. "That's in my presentation. Jason wouldn't have a clue about it. If they appear uneasy, we can offer them a tour in Houston and a one-on-one with Jason later in the year."

"When the snow starts flying up north, they're sure to take us up on it," Jim laughed. "Okay, I see where you're coming from," Alvin said. "Look, I might as well tell you. I've made a decision about the organization. I'm going give up my President title. Blake will move up to President. I'll put Jason and all of R&D under him."

"I think that's a good move, Alvin," Frank said.

"Wait, I'm not through yet. I'm going to make you Executive Vice President. You'll continue as CFO and have Tyler reporting to you, too; and Blake will transfer Human Resources to you, as well. You'll report directly to me."

"Geez, Alvin, I don't know what to say. I just became CFO a few months ago. Maybe it's..."

"No, it isn't premature," Alvin said. "It's the right thing to do for the Company. It will give me more time and energy for strategic planning. It's all contingent on Board approval, of course."

"Well, I'll certainly vote for it," Sweeney said. "There should be Directorships included in that package."

"What's the timing," Frank asked.

"I'm aiming at the next general Board meeting in December. That will give me a chance to smooth it over with a few directors."

"You mean Mueller," Sweeney said.

"Right," Alvin said. "And there's just one other thing. We've got to get those SEC charges against you put to bed."

"There aren't any charges," Frank reminded him. "All I had is an unpleasant conversation with Ms. Nadine Persky. They've sent nothing. I think I agree with Tyler on this."

"Al Crossman says we could straighten it out with them by just admitting to some misunderstanding. He says that they need to save face. They'd give us a slap and it would be behind us. Then we wouldn't have to check the mail everyday for that woman's letter."

"I don't know," Frank said. "I don't think we can trust them."

"Al thinks we can."

"We should discuss it later," Sweeney said. "For now, let's toast our new Director."

*************** 

While the three men were in the air on their way to Chicago, Brenda was sipping on a soft drink as she was seated across the veranda table from Gloria.

"The rest of the girls will be here any minute," she told Gloria.

"They all know we're working out in the mini-gym after the meeting?" Gloria asked. 

"That's why I'm drinking this soft drink instead of something with a kick," Brenda answered. "Yes, I told them."

Indeed, Brenda and Gloria were both in leotards. The September air was a little crisp, so they wore nylon warm-ups over their skin-tight suits. 

It's a nice day," Gloria commented.

It was a nice day, in Brenda's view, too. Reconciliation was in the offing. Even Trudy was on her way. That meant more than just renewed goodwill. There would be a full contingent of cadets filling the ranks once again, ready to lend their time and husbands' money to the projects at hand. Brenda had arranged it all. Gloria might have been thinking that they were rallying around her. Brenda knew better—and that was enough for her. 

"Señora—Señora," Juana's happy voice sang out. "Ees Señora Trudy. Chee ees een dee drive-way."

Yes, Brenda had even made Juana happy. It was going to be a good day.

"Send her out when she gets here," Gloria ordered. She turned to Brenda. "You'd figure she'd be the first to arrive."

Brenda puzzled over the meaning of what Gloria said. She felt a twinge of alarm. Whenever Gloria uttered such a comment the question wasn't if it meant something, but what it meant. That was often a confusing puzzle. While Brenda wondered about it, Trudy sprang though the door.

"Hi, Gloria, Brenda," she smiled. 

Gloria jumped from her chair and ran to where Trudy stood. Without asking if she could, she hugged her guest. 

"Trudy! I'm so glad you've come back to us. It's been hell for me to think you were angry after the pool party. Please say you forgive me."

"Well—bygones and all that," Trudy smiled. "Let's just forget it."

"You know, Frank was so much help to me with the Foundation finances the other night," Gloria said.

"He didn't say much about it," Trudy said. "He's been awfully busy lately. I didn't even have a chance to tell him about getting invited over here."

"I think he's with Alvin in Chicago," Gloria said. 

Trudy was dressed in burnt-orange and white. She wore a white fleece sweatpants and sweatshirt. The shirt was adorned with the familiar longhorn steer with TEXAS emblazoned beneath it. 

"I like your exercise clothes," Brenda said, stifling a snicker.

"Do you like it?" Trudy laughed. She stood up straight and stretched the sweatshirt to model it for them. "I had my daughter send it to me from college. It's actually a man's model. They didn't have a female one that was long enough to fit me."

"It will do nicely," Brenda said. 

"I don't belong to a gym, or anything," Trudy went on. "I know you all probably have fancier things."

"It will be fine," Gloria confirmed. 

At that moment Darlene and Ashley bounded through the French doors of the veranda. They each wore a nylon warm-up, like Brenda and Gloria. Gloria greeted them and gave each a hug. Brenda smiled because everything was going just perfectly.

"Look at Trudy's outfit," Gloria said. "Isn't it darling?"

"I'll say," Ashley said. She let out a whistle. Brenda thought it was a little bit patronizing, and she hadn't forgotten that it was Ashley's barbs that had started off all the trouble with Trudy in the first place. It occurred to Brenda—but obviously not to Ashley—that a quick apology might have been in order. "Trudy isn't the smartest girl in town, but she's smart enough."

The five women chatted for a while and drank a glass of juice in advance of their impending workout.

"Let's skip the meeting and go right into the mini-gym," Gloria said to the group. "It was just going to be a formality, anyway. Then, we can have a drink afterward. Besides, I've got a surprise for you in there."

The idea wasn't quite to Brenda's liking. She was hoping to get the work of the Foundation rolling again. It wouldn't have hurt to get serious for a few minutes. But Ashley and Darlene whooped in delight. It was clear that the time for work had come and gone.

They walked to the door of the mini-gym. "What surprise could you possibly have in there?" Ashley asked. 

"Open the door and find out," Gloria said. Brenda saw that smirk on Gloria that told her to be ready for something unexpected.

"Oh my!" Brenda heard Ashley gasp. "Who are they?"

"See anything you like?" Gloria asked the group.

Brenda stepped in front of Darlene and followed Ashley into the gym. She saw Raul and Miguel. They'd been working out while the women had sat sipping on their soft drinks. They were shirtless. Sheens of sweat graced their sculpted torsos.

"They're here to help us work out," Gloria called out from the back of the pack as she and the others piled in. "They're my exercise boys," she explained. 

"Oooww, they're beautiful," Ashley cooed. "Can I touch them?" 

"I don't think they'd mind, would you Raul?" 

"No, Señora. We don't mind." He flexed his pectoral muscle as Ashley gave it a tentative poke. She broke down giggling and ran to the back of the pack. 

"What are they here to help us with, exactly?" Darlene asked. She was eying Miguel. 

"Ees my cousin Miguel, Señora. 'e no has Ingles," Raul explained.

"I see," Darlene said. She sidled up to the younger man. Darlene eyed him and he eyed her back. "Just what can you do for me?" she asked him and stroked down his chest with the back of her hand.

"Any kind of exercise you want," Gloria answered for him. "I actually taught him to do a number of exercises. He didn't know any before that." Darlene turned quickly and looked at Gloria with wide grin.

Brenda took a look at Trudy, who had backed up to the door and was leaning against it. She pulled Gloria aside and whispered to her. 

"Gloria, I think all this is too much for Trudy. I think she's going to leave."

"Nonsense!" Gloria whispered back. 

"Gloria, if things go too far she'll run out of here," Brenda insisted. "She'll tell Frank and soon all the husbands will know. We better stop."

Gloria stepped away from Brenda. "You're so right, Bren," she said in a loud voice. "Trudy should have the first turn."

Brenda looked at Trudy as Gloria made her pronouncement. Trudy was startled. She looked from side to side, but everyone was looking for her."

"Come on, Trudy—don't be shy. Choose one of the boys to exercise with," Gloria entreated her in a soothing voice.

"You...you mean on the exercise bike?" Trudy asked.

"Come, now, dear," Gloria egged her on, "you can think of something more interesting than that."

Trudy's eyes became wide with fear. Her hand grasped the doorknob.

"I don't think Trudy's ready," Brenda said. "I'll go first."

"No, no" Gloria scolded. She took Trudy by the hand and pulled her into the center of the room. "Which of them shall it be? Choose one of them."

"C'mon, do it, Trudy!" Ashley and Darlene chanted. "Hurry up so it can be our turn," Darlene added.

"I don't think so. Tis isn't my kind of thing. I think I want to leave," Trudy said. She stepped toward the door.

Gloria's face turned red with rage. "No, you don't, Gloria screamed. "Not again. You can go when I say so!" She grasped Trudy's arm was pulling her back into the center of the room. "Help me, girls!" 

Trudy was strong and Gloria couldn't hold her. Ashley, and then Darlene grabbed hold of Trudy and they all pushed her to the massage table. They were laughing. Brenda shook her head. She wished that Trudy would stop fighting and just get it over with. 

Trudy was fighting the three women off. "Get over here and help us!" Gloria screamed again. Raul and Miguel jumped as Gloria called them. 

"No! Help me!" Trudy screamed. 

"Put this in her mouth to shut her up," Gloria commanded. She handed Darlene a rolled-up towel and Trudy was silenced. Trudy lay on the massage table. Ashley and Darlene each held and arm. Miguel and Raul held her legs. Trudy still strained against them. Gloria stood at the foot of the table.

"You'll learn to come down off your high horse," Gloria hissed at her. "Raul, show her what she's got coming."

"I think no, Señora Warner," Raul protested. "Chu says chee wants eet, but eet looks like che say 'no'."

"Do it!" Gloria shrieked. "Do it or you won't see any more of these." She threw a handful of hundred dollar bills on the floor. "Do it," she repeated. "Brenda, get on her other leg so that he can show her."

Brenda did as Gloria told her. She felt Trudy's muscles straining inside her Texas Longhorn sweat suit. It took all the strength she had to hold her down. Raul stood beside Gloria. "Drop 'em!" Gloria barked at Raul.

Raul unbuckled his belt. He pushed his pants down and then his briefs. His penis pointed at the woman being held down on the massage table. He was almost fully hard. Trudy's eyes widened and she struggled in vain once again. 

"Get her clothes off," Gloria ordered. 

They yanked the sweatshirt up her torso and pushed the collar over her head. "Gloria we can't get it off all the way without letting go of her arms," Darlene said. 

"That's far enough," Gloria said. "Cut through the bra with these." She handed Ashley a pair of scissors. 

Ashley snipped through between the two cups. Gloria reached in and pushed the separated cups to the side. Brenda looked at Trudy. She had no strength left to struggle. There were tears streaming from her eyes and she was trembling.

"How about some foreplay?" Gloria sneered and twisted the bare nipples. 

"Gloria, I think we should stop," Brenda said. "This has gone too far already." Gloria didn't hear her, and it seemed no one else did, either.

"Relax, Trudy, dear," Gloria said in a syrupy voice. "Enjoy yourself. Raul is very good. I trained him, myself. Now, I'll train you."

"Please—stop now, Gloria!" Brenda heard herself shout the words, but she continued holding down Trudy's leg. She looked at Raul, who stood next to Gloria at the ready. He was shirtless, fully erect. His pants nestled around his ankles. 

Brenda looked at Trudy, towel gagging her, crying and exhausted. Then she looked away, wanting to see nothing; but she couldn't help but see her own two hands clenching Trudy's thigh. In one ear she heard Gloria's wicked laugh.

"Now, get her pants off," Gloria exalted.

Brenda let go of Trudy and ran, stumbling out the mini-gym door. She ran away from them. It was time that it all ended. She cried out for help—for Trudy and for her.

"Juana! Juana! Help me, Juana!"

She hoped the maid was close-by. Juana hurried out of the French doors and onto the veranda.

"Juana—in the gym. Hurry!"

They ran past the pool and back to the gym. By the time they burst through the door Darlene and Ashley had let go of Trudy. Trudy was struggling for her freedom again. Gloria and Miguel had taken their places trying to hold Trudy down and Raul was getting ready to mount her. 

"¡Madre de Dios!" Juana cried. Raul looked behind him and saw the matron staring at him with rage in her eyes. Juana leaned out the door. "¡José—José venga aqui ahorrita. Andale—venga ahorrita!"

Raul had seen Juana's and Brenda's intrusion and that made him stop. He hopped off the table and started putting his clothes back on as fast as he could. When Raul halted, Miguel released Trudy. Gloria continued grappling with Trudy, who was still on her back on the massage table. Brenda wrapped her arm around Gloria to pull her off. Juana joined her and they dragged Gloria off to the side of the group.

"It's all over, Gloria," Brenda said. 

Through the open door, Brenda spied José running to the mini-gym from the far side of the garden. By the time José made his way into the gym, Raul had his pants back up around his waist. He was buckling his belt and Miguel was retrieving the money that Gloria had cast on the floor. Raul nudged Miguel toward the toward the door. "Yo creo que nos vamos," he whispered to his cousin.

José made a start at the pair and raised his fist at them. The two bolted out the door, too fast for José to chase them. "¡No regresan! No regresan—nunca," Juana shouted after them as they fled. As Brenda watched them run she was unsure if they heard Juana or not, but she was sure they wouldn't come back.

Trudy was still lying on her back panting to regain her strength. Juana nodded and José left the room. Juana helped Trudy climb off the massage table. She took the towel from her mouth. Trudy hoisted her sweatpants back around her waist and removed her sundered bra and pulled the sweatshirt back down where it belonged.

Gloria was panting nearby. Juana and Brenda had loosened their hold on her and she lunged at Trudy.

"I hate you—damn you." She struck Trudy once in the face. Juana grabbed Gloria, and then Brenda stepped in to help her. "I'll get you," Gloria screamed as the two women dragged her aside once again. 

"It's over, Gloria," Brenda repeated. "Everything is over." She motioned to Ashley and Darlene to help. "You're going to your room for a rest."

"The hell I am!" Gloria shrieked back at her as she tried in vain to get away from the women's grasp. "You ruined it. I hate you, too."

"Take her to her room," Brenda said to the others. "Put her in bed. I'll be up to look after her later."

Juana dragged Gloria to the house, helped by the two former accomplices. Brenda stayed behind with Trudy.

"I screwed your husband!" they heard Gloria yelling in the distance. "Trudy, I screwed Frank! I can screw him anytime I want to. He's been doing Jeannette, too. They've been screwing for years."




The Brass Statuettes Ch. 21



Brenda looked away in shame. "I'm sorry about this. Things got out of control. I never..."

"I'm going home," Trudy said, almost in a whisper.

"Please let me take you. You shouldn't have to go by yourself."

"Never mind, just let me go," Trudy answered. "I'll be alright."

"Frank's in Chicago. You have no one to go home to," Brenda said. "Let me..."

"Just leave me alone," Trudy repeated. "I can get home by myself."

Trudy trudged slowly out of the mini-gym, neither saying more nor looking back.

******************* 

Brenda looked on as Trudy trod through the French doors that led from the veranda to the house. She had an urge to run after her. She imagined herself injured and alone, as she was sure Trudy was. She knew what Trudy would have done for her, had roles been reversed. But she'd offered and Trudy had turned her down—with good reason, by Brenda's honest estimation. 

Brenda concluded that the roles would never have been reversed because she realized that Trudy would not have allowed herself to be guilty of what had been committed, or possibly omitted. 

"I have my sins, hypocrisy isn't one of them," she told herself.

She watched Trudy leave, convinced that it was the only thing she could do. She turned her attention to Gloria, forcibly escorted upstairs by Juana and helped by Darlene and Ashley. Brenda could hear Gloria yelling something. She couldn't understand the words, and realized that they didn't matter. 

When she arrived in Gloria's bedroom Juana and the two other women were still holding her down on the bed.

"You need to get some rest, Gloria," Brenda said. "You're under a lot of strain."

"Traitor!" Gloria spat out. She struggled again momentarily against her captors and then gave up.

"I'm going to call your doctor," Brenda told her.

"Don't you dare," Gloria hissed again, but Brenda ignored her.

"Will this take very long?" Darlene asked. "I'd really like to go."

"I don't know," Brenda answered. "Just stay where you are for right now." She took Juana's place holding Gloria down. "Go find the phone number for the Señora's doctor. Bring it to me and I'll call him."

************* 

When the doctor arrived Juana and Brenda stayed in the room while he examined Gloria. Brenda explained to him what happened, minus some unneeded details, and then joined Darlene and Ashley downstairs in the kitchen. Ashley had made some coffee and they sat at the table sipping it.

"I thought Gloria was joking. I never thought she intended it to go that far," Ashley said. "I thought it was a kind of an initiation—all in fun."

"Me, too," Darlene said. "It's like when I was supposed to tease the Mexican boys. I would never have..."

"I'm not fooling myself, and you two aren't fooling me either. Fool yourselves, if you like. We're all guilty." Brenda said the words to the two seated at the table, but she didn't care if they listened or not. She wanted to hear the words come from her own mouth.

"Nothing happened," Darlene said. "Maybe it almost did—but it didn't. After you ran out Ashley and I let go of her. We wanted Gloria to stop. If nothing happened, we can't be guilty." 

"That's right," Ashley said. We went along because you did," she told Brenda. "We figured that if thought it was okay, then it was."

Brenda answered her with silence.

"Actually, I think it was the three of us who saved her," Ashley added.

"We're all guilty," Brenda said, looking away from them. "We're guilty of being cowards. We were afraid of Gloria; afraid not to go along; affair of being left out."

"But if the police ask us we can truly say that nothing happened," Ashley said.

"I guess everyone has their own truth," Brenda answered. "For me, I know I'm guilty. I don't know what to do about it, but I know that I am."

"We've just gotta make sure no one finds out," Darlene said. "Maybe we should go see Trudy..."

"And beg her to keep it secret?" Brenda asked. "Don't you think she hates us enough? She won't tell anyone. She'll keep it a secret to protect her husband. If he finds out, he'll do something about it and that might end his career. She'll keep it a secret, alright."

"It's more than I would do," Darlene answered.

"I wish that I could say that I would," Ashley admitted. Tears were welling in her eyes. "I just don't know..."

"It hasn't been one of our better days," Brenda said.

Gloria's doctor appeared in the kitchen, followed by Juana. "She's going to sleep for quite a while. I sedated her heavily. She won't wake until morning. Someone should bring her to my office tomorrow. I'll most likely make a referral after I give her a proper exam."

"I'll bring her," Brenda said.

"Where's her husband?"

"In Chicago—on business."

"He should get back here as soon as possible. He may have to sign some papers."

"I'll call him," Brenda promised. "I'll call the office and find out how to reach him, and then I'll tell him to come back home."

The doctor looked at Juana. "Can you stay in the house tonight? Look in on her every few hours. Call 911 if you need help."

After the doctor left, Ashley and Darlene made quick exits. Brenda stayed behind.

"Thank you, Juana. You and José saved Trudy."

"Where ees Señora Trudy?" the maid demanded. 

"She's home. She wanted to go home."

"You must go be weet her," Juana said. "Chee ees alone an' hurt. Go help her. I weel take good care of dee Señora."

"I already offered. She wanted to go by herself."

"No, you must go," Juana insisted. "Chee nids someone weet her."

"She said 'no'. I asked her already. I think she blames me. Here's her number. You call her—she likes you. If you speak to her, tell her that I'm sorry." 

*********** 

TO BE CONTINUED...



The Brass Statuettes Ch. 22



© Copyright 2007

Chapter 22 — End and Beginning

Frank pulled his into his driveway at eight-thirty the next evening. The conference with the new investors was successful, even though they had to go through it without Alvin. He received Blake's phone call as they were getting ready to go to dinner. Brenda had called him and explained about Gloria. Jim Sweeney filled in for Alvin at the meeting the next day and the investors were gracious and understood.

Alvin used the corporate jet to get back to Houston. Frank, Jim and Tyler booked seats on a commercial flight. Frank was tired and wanted to relax, but his trip had been a big win, so he was eager to tell Trudy about it.

He wandered into the house expecting to see Trudy and Margaret, but neither was downstairs. He stopped by Margaret's room.

"Why the long face?" he asked her. "Trouble with Chemistry?"

"No," the girl issued a gruff reply.

"Well, what, then?" he asked.

"I didn't do anything," she barked. "It was her. She's been like this for two days."

"Like what?" Frank asked.

"She's just being a total grouch."

"It can't be all that bad," Frank said. "Your mother is never a grouch for long. Are you sure she isn't upset with you for something."

"No!" Margaret cried out. "Everyone always blames me for everything." She clamped her jaw shut and crossed her arms.

"Why don't you study your chemistry and let me worry about it," Frank told her. He closed her door and walked down the hallway to his and Trudy's room. She was lying in bed. The covers were pulled up over her face.

"Hi, Trudy. I'm home."

She didn't answer; it wasn't like her. "You feel alright?" he asked.

"I'm okay," she said without lifting her head., "just a little under the weather. That's all."

"Can I get you anything?" 

"No, I just need to sleep. I saved some dinner for you. It's in the refrigerator."

"Margaret thinks you're being a grouch."

"I suppose I am," she said. "I'll make it up to her. Tell Margaret I'm sorry—I just don't feel very well. I'll be better tomorrow."

"I'm sure she'll be okay," Frank answered. He wondered if he should leave Trudy alone like she wanted hiom to. He felt like talking to her. "Did you hear about Gloria?"

"No—no I didn't," Trudy answered in a voice that should have told Frank that she knew something of it. But, he wasn't listening as carefully as he should have. She flipped off the covers and sat straight up on the bed. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure; some kind of attack—maybe a nervous breakdown. Alvin had to come home early this morning. He got a call from Blake. I guess he was relaying something from Brenda. Alvin said she was going to the doctor today."

"So that's all that Brenda told him?" 

"Blake told him; I assume it came from Brenda. Don't Gloria and Brenda always hang around together?"

"I guess so," Trudy said. "Then, that's all you know?"

"That's it. Alvin took the corporate jet back to Houston this morning. Jim, Tyler and I had to book a commercial flight. That's why I'm late."

He looked at Trudy. She seemed more animated than when he first walked in. "This news about Gloria has you perked up," he joked to her. "I know you don't like her that much..."

"It's not that!" Trudy snapped. "I just didn't know about it, that's all."

"I told you I thought Gloria was acting a little goofy when I went over there last week. It's not my business, but I think she might toss down more than her share of the sauce."

"I wouldn't know about that."

"Well, you look like you're feeling a little bit better. Do you want to come downstairs for a while?"

"Maybe for a while. I'll take some aspirin and see if it helps."

Good!" Frank exclaimed. "I'll tell you about the meeting in Chicago."

Trudy got out of bed and put on her robe. "Did it go well?" she asked.

They walked down the hall past Margaret's closed door. "Maybe I should go in and talk to her for a minute," Trudy said.

"That's okay," Frank countered. Why don't you go down and get comfortable by the TV. I'll square it with Margaret for you and bring you some aspirin."

"Thanks," Trudy called over her shoulder. "I'll heat up your dinner while you're doing that."

************** 

Frank thought Trudy was still acting subdued the next morning, but she looked somewhat better. Frank wasn't a kissy kind of guy, but on this day he did give her a kiss on the forehead as he left for the office. She seemed to like that.

"Probably NWS—Neglected Wife Syndrome—at the root cause," he said out loud to himself as he backed the car down the driveway. He started saying it as a little joke to himself, but as the words came forth he realized that it was true, but not very funny. "It's my fault. With everything at work, I've kind of forgotten about her. She's been under a lot of pressure, too." Frank confirmed his determination for a special vacation as soon as he could schedule it.

When he arrived at the office he found that Floyd was back from vacation. He escorted him to his office and brought him his styrofoam cup of coffee, just like always.

"Did you get a chance to look at those reports that I printed from the copying machine, Mr. Bennett?"

"I'm afraid so, Floyd. I almost wish I hadn't asked you to print them out, but it looks like we know who's been stealing company information."

"I'll tell you, Mr. Bennett, I really didn't want to come back. I would have never believed it was Miss Jeannette, but it's right there in the reports."

"I can't ignore it," Frank said. "There's the card number, right there. I don't believe it. Jeannette's been with me for a long time."

"Well, you know something else? That Mr. Fishman—you told me to keep an eye on that office he was using. A couple of times he didn't bother to lock his door when he went home for the evening. It was the same night that the reports show the keycard was used. I locked it for him, of course. At first, I thought he forgot. But now I think that he was helping Miss Jeannette."

"Or maybe he was helping her."

"I hate to accuse," Floyd said. "It's my duty and all."

"Don't worry, Floyd," Frank said. "We have other ways of confirming the facts. We'll have to do something; we can't ignore them."

Floyd shook his head. "Too bad; such nice people." he said. "I wonder where they went wrong."  

"We'll ask 'em at the proper time," Frank assured him. "For now, keep this between us."

"No problem, Mr. Bennett. By the way, I have some other news to tell you."

"Oh?"

"I've decided to retire," Floyd said. "They came out with that 'Eighty-Five Option', you know, in the Retirement Plan this past June. It's the sum of your age and years of service. I'm sixty-two and I'll have twenty-five years on the first of the month. That puts me over. If I don't take it, I would almost be working for free."

"Geez, I'll miss you, Floyd. What're you gonna do?"

"My son lives in Atlanta. The Missus and I were thinking of moving there. We have no one left here in Houston. It gets kind of lonely."

"Well, I wish you the best, Floyd. Do you have a date, yet?"

"No, gotta work that out with Personnel," Floyd said. "It'll be soon, though."

"What can I say?" Frank said. "Good luck to you."

Floyd turned to leave. "Have a good day, Mr. Bennett," he called over his shoulder.

"Oh—Floyd, there's just one thing," Frank remembered. "You know that FBI agent— Agent Henderson? He's going to be in the office today. As soon as he arrives, would you bring him to my office?"

****************** 

After Floyd left the office Frank took out his notes on the meeting of the prior day in Chicago. He tried to summarize them, but he couldn't keep his mind on what he was doing. Floyd's accusation of Aaron and Jeannette didn't surprise him. It only served to confirm what he already had put together and shared with Henderson—and what Henderson had put together on his own. That didn't make it go down any easier. Today was going to be a busy day.

He walked down the hall to Alvin's empty office and left a note on Doris' desk. He wanted to speak to Alvin, if he came to the office at all. The memory of Gloria's recent try at him came to mind. He wondered if her breakdown had anything to do with it. He grimaced as he thought how Alvin had unwittingly set the whole thing up. Then, he thought of Trudy, and if it might all come out in the open. He wondered if he should tell her before someone else did.

He put his note on the top of the pile and turned to go back to his office. When he arrived he found Tyler Smith and Blake Hart waiting for him next to Jeannette's desk. 

"We've got something to tell you," Tyler said, and pointed to Frank's office, "in there."

They walked in and Frank motioned them to the alcove where they sat down. "No coffee, yet," he said. 

"That's okay," Blake said. Tyler shook his head, as well.

"It's something I picked up—quite by accident—while I was in New York" Tyler began to explain. "I wasn't sure whether to bring it up in Chicago. Then Alvin got his call and everything. I didn't want it to overshadow the meeting with the investors. I decided to wait so I could check things out better and the three of us could get together."

"It's got to have something to do with Alvin, considering what you just said, and what's been going on."

"Not exactly," Tyler said. "It's just this. I was reviewing one of our contracts in an attorney's office. I overheard a staffer say something about Bank of Frankfurt."

"That's Herr Mueller's Bank," Frank said. "I take it he's doing some business over here."

"No big deal about that," Tyler said. "I'd be surprised if his bank didn't have some interests in the States. It's what I heard next that was alarming."

"Wait 'til you hear this," Blake said.

"Someone asked who the bank's counsel was. I couldn't believe the answer—none other than our own trusted Al Crossman. I did a cross-search this morning on the internet and sure enough, Crossman is listed as Frankfurt Bank's General Counsel for all U.S. business." 

Frank thought he should have been stunned to hear that news, but after everything that he'd seen during the past summer, being stunned was less easy than it used to be. "So, you're saying that Al's representing Mueller and us at the same time—even after Mueller's announced his attempt at a takeover? Does Alvin know about this?"

"God help him if he does," Blake declared. 

"I don't think so, Tyler said. "The problem is that Crossman has Alvin's ear. You should be worried, Frank. You know that Mueller's not exactly in your corner."

"This explains a lot of things," Frank said as he shook his head.

"Crossman's been agitating with Alvin to wave a white flag at the SEC and that Persky dame," Tyler reminded them. "I couldn't understand why he was saying it, but now...if we do that, it's your ass in a sling, Frank. Crossman was trying to set you up, and now we know why. He's trying to manipulate things according to Mueller's interests."

"I suggest you forget about those white flags," Blake laughed.

"We should take this to Alvin as soon as he gets in—if he gets in, that is. I would imagine it depends on how his wife is doing," frank said.

"I doubt you'll see him today," Blake said. "Brenda told me that Gloria flipped out pretty hard. She didn't go into a lot of details. She said that another one of her parties flopped and that sent her over the edge."

"I asked Trudy about it. She didn't know a thing. I can't imagine a spoiled party sending a person over the edge."

"Maybe it was the last stone on the pile," Tyler said as he shook his head.

"Anyway, Brenda is helping Alvin get Gloria to the doctor's office this morning. She said the doc gave Gloria something to knock her out overnight. We'll just have to see."

"I hate to go over Alvin's head," Frank said. "I don't think this can wait. We should call Jim Sweeney and fill him in. Alvin will have to understand."

"I'll do the honors," Tyler said.

"Thanks," Frank replied. "I have some other pressing business this morning, as you know."

"We've got to stick together on this," Blake said.

"Absolutely," Frank agreed. "Let's make sure we're working with the facts. I want to find out just how much Alvin knows."

A knock at the door interrupted them. Floyd opened it. "You said to bring Agent Henderson right in," he said. Henderson came into the office. "Miss Jeannette's just arrivin'. Do you want me to call her in?" 

"No, that's okay," Frank said. We don't need her right this second. We need you, though." 

"Me?" Floyd said and gave Frank a puzzled look. "I'll help you if you need me, but I don't think you will. Miss Jeannette won't put up much of a fight. Do you have another agent with you to take custody of Mr. Fishman? I could help with that."

"Agent Henderson is here to arrest you, Floyd."

"Me? You can't be serious." He forced out a laugh.

"Agents in Atlanta are serving subpoenas at this moment on your son's records at the stock broker's office where he works," Henderson told him.

"What?" Floyd asked. "What about the copier reports?"

"Jeannette got herself a new keycard. I told her to leave the old one on her desk where you'd find it—if you were snooping around and wanted to use one. "

"You can't prove it was me."

"Want to see yourself on tape?" Frank asked. I had cameras installed in the Controller's office and in the copier room while you were off-duty. You're on tape going through Aaron's files. By the way, the forecast worksheets you pilfered were bogus. I had Aaron make a set of phonies and leave them on top of the desk. Jeannette has the real ones in her secure filing cabinet."

"You thought of everything, didn't you?"

"Not just me, Floyd. Agent Henderson has the brokerage records for the Calls and the Puts going through your son's brokerage and the money going into your and his accounts. The only question is why you did it."

Floyd hung his head. "It was for the money," he said. "It was my son's idea. We never thought it would cause so much trouble. It was so much easy money. I just wanted some padding for my nest egg before I retire."

"You were willing to let Jeannette and Aaron take the fall for you," Frank said. 

"People would just walk by my post everyday and never say a word," Floyd answered. "I didn't even exist. They were all so important and I was nothing."

"Did you think that buttering me up with a cup of coffee in the morning would give you a license to steal?" Frank asked.

"I thought so," Floyd said. "High-up people always want to be liked. That's 'cause no one really likes 'em. So, yeah; I thought it would do it."

"I have to place you under arrest now," Henderson said. He read Floyd his rights and then took out his handcuffs.

"Do you need those?" Frank asked.

"Regulations," Henderson answered.

"He's sixty-two years old. I think you can outrun him," Frank argued. Henderson shrugged. "At least, wait to do it in the parking lot."

"Alright, in the parking lot it is," he said. He grasped Floyd by the arm and they made their way to the elevator.

"What do you think he'll get?" Tyler asked.

"I dunno. Restitution, probation; you're the lawyer, you tell me."

Tyler didn't have an answer and they walked together out of the office. Tyler and Blake headed back to their own lairs. Frank turned to Jeannette. 

"Well, Floyd's gone. It's a real shame, but the facts were there on the table. It had to be done."

"Yes," Jeannette agreed.

"Your idea about the copier keycard was a good one. I'm sure you don't take any joy in it."

"No, not particularly," she answered.

"Well, I'm sorry," Frank said and started to turn to head back inside his office.

"Sorry? Why are you apologizing to me?" Jeannette demanded.

"I just thought..." Frank started to say.

"I've known Floyd a long time and I feel bad because he got himself in trouble, but he was wrong. Were you thinking that I feel worse because it turned out to be Floyd and he's the same race as me?" Jeannette asked. "I hope you weren't thinking that."

Frank grimaced and found himself guilty as charged. "I have to tell you, Jeannette. I was thinking that. I was wrong to think that way, but it's true that I was."

"Because I'm my own person," Jeannette proclaimed. "I don't belong to anybody—not any person or group or anything. I think and speak for myself and whatever I do or don't do is on my own account."

"I know, Jeannette. I was wrong to be thinking that."

"Yes, you were."

"Do you forgive me?"

She looked at him and allowed a tiny smile to show. "Yes, I do. Go in your office and I'll bring you some coffee."

****************** 

Brenda was nervous as she drove into the driveway. She didn't have much to do in those days. Gloria was going to be away for a while. She would get rest and treatment. Brenda had performed her final duty for her. Alvin thanked Brenda for her help. She considered herself a newly-free person.

She wondered what Gloria would be like when she got out. Nothing would be the same, and Brenda knew it shouldn't be. What she couldn't figure out was what would replace what had been. She was surprised how much free time she had on her hands with Gloria unavailable to accept her services.

She rang the doorbell and waited. She was about to give up and leave when she heard someone fumbling with the lock and the hardware. The big front door finally opened. 

"I came over to say I'm sorry for what happened and to make sure you're alright," Brenda said.

"I told you at Gloria's house," Trudy said. "It's not necessary."

Trudy said no more and her face bore a stern expression. Brenda began thinking that she had been correct in the first place to stay away. She pushed herself to try harder. 

"Maybe not necessary for you, but I had to." She looked at Trudy's face, searching for a sign that she'd relent and let her in the house. "Juana has been asking for you."

"Tell her I'm fine," Trudy said. "Tell her if Gloria fires her to come and see me. It's the least I can do. If it wasn't for her..." Her voice trailed away.

"Gloria isn't there," Brenda told her. "She went intno a sanitarium three days ago. She won't be back for a while."

Trudy grimaced a little bit. "Oh, I didn't know." She turned as though she might close the door.

"I didn't invite you to Gloria's house to lure you into what happened. I had no idea what Gloria had planned. Please believe me." Brenda hoped that Trudy did believe her, but she knew she couldn't demand belief. "Please..." and then she found herself groping for words.

Trudy opened the door and Brenda stepped inside. "The place is a mess," Trudy said. "I was just about to vacuum."

"It isn't a mess," Brenda said. "It's immaculate. I have a housekeeper and mine doesn't look this good."

"I'll put on some coffee."

"Tea would be better for me," Brenda called after her. 

"Tea it is," Trudy called back from the kitchen.

Brenda followed Trudy into the kitchen and perched on a stool at the kitchen counter. "You haven't told Frank what happened, have you?" Trudy shook her head. "You should, you know. I don't know Frank very well, but from what I do know from Blake, I'm sure that he'd want you to tell him."

"I have to handle it alone," Trudy replied and then looked away.

"That's not really fair," Brenda argued. "You need someone to tell it to."

"Frank would get all upset and want to confront everyone. He's worked too hard to get where he is and then have something happen that would be the end of it all. Besides, it's too late. He'd wonder why I didn't tell him sooner."

"But, it would make it easier for you to handle it," Brenda said.

"At least you and Juana broke it up before it could go the whole distance," Trudy said. "When I saw you run out, I knew I had a chance."

"José was there, too," Brenda corrected.




The Brass Statuettes Ch. 22



"I have to tell you," Trudy said and held back a sob, "I've never been so scared in all my life."

"I would've been, too. It scares me that I went along with it as long as I did. It scares me that I've let myself do so many things."

Brenda felt tears welling in her own eyes. She grabbed a paper napkin from a holder nearby to dry them as the tea kettle began to whistle. Trudy poured the steaming water into two mugs and joined Brenda.

"Everyone's done things they aren't very proud of," Trudy said. "You've just got to try to do better and move on."

"You can. You haven't done anything really bad.," Brenda said. "For me it's different. I've let too much happen. It's too late to go back."

"That's not true. You must never believe that," Trudy replied. "It's never too late. Look at everything you've got."

"That's just it," Brenda said. "I don't really have it—not like you. I don't have Blake like you have Frank. I just have everything he can give me. He knows; I know it."

"Change it!" Trudy exclaimed. "You can, if you want to. Tell him that's what you want to do. See what he says. What have you got to lose?"

Brenda took a sip of her tea. It burned her lips a little; that was okay. It had the effect of waking her up. If she'd been at Gloria's house, she'd be reaching for the vodka. Tea in the afternoon had a nice feel to it.

"I know what he'll say," Brenda said. "He'll say 'yes'. He isn't hard like me; he's really a softy at heart. He'd go along, alright—it would be so unfair to him."

"Aw, just do it and to hell with worrying about all that. Don't confess anything, don't apologize. Just give him whatever you've got to give and he'll be happy. And, that's what life is all about—being happy—with Blake and yourself. Why don't you just go for it?"

Brenda stared into her teacup for a minute. A time or two she thought she saw truth rising up with the steam. Trudy had given her something to think about.

"I know I've hurt you," Brenda said to Trudy. "Could we be friends, just the same?"

Trudy didn't answer right away. Brenda wouldn't have blamed her if she turned the offer down. It would have been justice for the taking, if that's what Trudy wanted.

"Yes," Trudy answered in a whisper.

"I'll keep your secret about what happened at Gloria's house, if that's what you want," Brenda offered. "You can tell me about it, if you don't want Frank to know. You've got to tell someone. It would be better for you."

"I think I just did," Trudy said and gushed a smile at her.

"I'll tell you about Blake and me. It's the same thing. And no one else will have to know."

"We sound like a couple of school girls—like my daughters," Trudy laughed. Brenda laughed too. 

"If you've got time, why don't we go over to Gloria's house? Juana will feel better if she can see you're okay."

***************** 

Several weeks later Frank was in his office. He'd just told Aaron that he was being transferred to the Adhesives Division to be Division Controller. "You'll get a nice raise," Frank told him. "It will be the best move for your career. Figure on eighteen months to two years."

He had an interview lined up with a candidate for the Corporate Controller position later that morning. He buzzed Jeannette. "Can you make a reservation upstairs for lunch for me and the candidate? We have to fatten up the sheep before we lead him to the slaughter."

Jeannette laughed. "Yes, Frank." It was good to hear Jeannette laughing again. Things were starting to get back to normal. "I was waiting until your meeting with Aaron broke up. "Mr. Warner asked if you could join him in his office with Mr. Sweeney." 

Frank put on his jacket and went to Alvin's office right away. He and Sweeney were having coffee, waiting for him.

"What's up?" Frank asked.

"Jim and I have something to tell you," Alvin said. "Considering everything, we thought you should get the news first."

"Considering what?" Frank asked. 

"That I was getting ready to fire you, for one thing," Alvin confessed. "Al Crossman had me convinced. I should have seen through it."

"Water over the damn," Frank said. "Crossman's got his hands full now." 

It was true. Western fired Crossman and his firm when it was found out that he was fronting for Mueller. Nadine Persky's moves against Western and Frank were at Crossman's behest as a way to promote Mueller's interests. 

That was only the tip of the iceberg. Agent Henderson and the FBI had found out the principles of Trans-Atlantic Partners. It turned out that Simon Lambert had started it as a partnership of two corporations that he formed. Somehow, Crossman found out and he and Nadine Persky forced him to let them in.

They were all indicted and were in the process of turning on each other. Persky was on Administrative Leave from the SEC. Crossman was defending his law license in front of the Texas Bar. Lambert was dismissed from the Board. 

Mueller was never involved in the 'Short Sale' scandal, but resigned from the Board.

"If it hadn't been for you, this company would have come apart." Sweeney said. "You kept the shareholders calmed down and came through with the financing for the R&D program when everyone was against you."

"And I happen to know you kept Tyler and Blake from turning against me, even when things were the worst for you," Alvin added.

"I wouldn't go that far," Frank said. "Anyway, it's too bad Jason won't be here to see his funding."

"He's better off being Dean at that university in New York," Alvin said. "But that's not why we called you down here. I want to let you know that I'm retiring. When I found out what Crossman nearly led me into, I realized that I wasn't on my best game anymore. You might say I'm firing myself. I'll stay on the Board as Chairman Emeritus."

"C'mon Alvin. That's not necessary. We'll pick things up from here."

"Thanks, but my mind's made up. Besides, Gloria will need me when she comes home. Jim, here, is stepping in as interim Chairman and CEO. You and Blake are moving up, like I said while we were flying to Chicago. I said it as a decoy back then, but now it's for real."

************ 

Frank made it a point to get home early that evening. He told Trudy about what happened. She was happy about the promotion, of course. 

Frank and Trudy were in the living room. Margaret was in her room studying for a Chemistry test. Frank was flipping through the TV channels trying to find something to watch.

"The more channels we get the less there is worth watching anymore," Frank complained. Trudy didn't answer, but Frank knew she agreed with him. "They should make a soap opera about Western Chemical and everything that's gone on." He gave up searching and clicked off the television.

"It's a good idea for Alvin to be there for Gloria," Trudy said. "From what I've heard, she fell pretty hard."

"Alvin's leaving will be a big loss,' Frank said. "He went through a tough patch, but he put in some pretty solid years in the top spot. That job's not easy."

"In that case, I would say he deserves to go out the way he wants to," Trudy said. "The Company will survive."

"I suppose so," Frank conceded. "By the way, I haven't forgotten that I owe you a big vacation."

"Any vacation at all sounds fine right now," Trudy said.

"I had an idea," Frank said and leaned closer to her. "Remember when we were talking making a driving trip around the whole state of Texas? I've been thinking about that. I've been looking into it, too. We could make it a camping trip. You know—sleeping under the stars?" He leaned closer and nuzzled her neck. She made a little purring noise. "Doing other things under the stars, too."

"You mean get naked while we share sleeping bags with a bunch of rattlesnakes? You have a troubled mind, Frank."

The set-back slowed Frank down. He was quiet for a minute as he tried to figure out how to regain his lost momentum. Trudy saved it for him. 

"What other ideas do you have," she asked as she casually draped her hand on his thigh.

"How about Europe?" he asked. "I was reading about these nude beaches they have in France and Spain."

"And who would be nude?" Trudy retorted. "You're not thinking about me, I hope."

"Sure, why not? No one would know us. You could try topless first and then work your way into it. It would be real adventure—a thrill. You'd look great."

"You're crazy, Frank."

"Crazy about you," he said and cupped a breast in his hand.

Trudy laughed that deep laugh that Frank was hoping to hear. "What would you give if we had our own little nude adventure right now, upstairs in our very own bedroom?" she asked.

Frank squeezed her breast a little more firmly and rubbed his thumb over the nipple through the fabric of her blouse and bra. "A vacation wherever you want to go,' he answered."

She purred a little more. "Which is?"

"A trip up the Mississippi on a paddlewheel steamer," Frank answered. "But we'd have to wait until nice weather."

She slid her hand up Frank's thigh where he was hard. She held it like he always liked her to. One of those smiles that always excited Frank spread across her face. 

"That, as you business guys like to say, closes the deal." She jumped up from the sofa where they were sitting. "Lock up the house. I'll see you up there."

*************** 

Juana busied herself cleaning the windows on the French doors that led to the veranda. The sun warmed the patio stones. It was finally nice enough to sit outside after a break in winter's dreary days.

Señora Warner had been away for a long time. It seemed as soon as she finally came home Señor Alvin whisked her away to Europe, but he said that Señora Gloria's friends were welcome to use the house for their meetings even when they were gone. She looked out and saw three women sitting at one of the tables, eating sandwiches and drinking tea.

One of the women was Señora Brenda, whom she had gotten to know better in recent months, and she was doing most of the speaking.

"Now that we have the funding for the second Morningside School in place, we have to find the right location."

"Tyler knows someone in City Hall who can work with us," one of the women said. "I can get things started on that." It was the woman who called herself 'Ashley', another of Señora Gloria's friends.

"I have the draft proposals ready if we want to review them." It was Señora Trudy who spoke. Juana was most glad that Trudy was so happy, for it was she who received the worst hurt from Señora Gloria during her bad times—unless it was Gloria who hurt herself most grievously.

"Has anyone heard from Darlene?" Señora Brenda asked the group. 

"I heard she moved in with Ed Cassidy—you know, from First National Bank—after her husband moved to New York to take that job," Ashley reported.

"I've called her a number of times," Brenda said. "It's up to her if she wants to work with us, but she'll have to decide soon or resign from the Board. She can't just be part of it in name only; she'll have to do the work, too."

"What will we do when Gloria comes back?" Ashley asked.

"I guess that would be up to Trudy, considering everything that ..."

"No, it's not up to me," Trudy insisted. "I would never want it to be up to me. Really, it's up to Gloria."

Brenda nodded. "Alright, we'll leave it at that."

Juana spotted José working in the garden at the edge of the grounds. He was uncovering the flower beds that had been resting under the winter mulch. Even from the great distance she was from the garden, Juana could see the green shoots of the hyacinths and the red ones of the peonies poking up from their bed of soil. Tiny pink buds were appearing on the stems of the roses. José had shown them to her that morning. It was a wonder of nature that Juana never tired of witnessing.

Soon all in the gardens would be as they should—maybe even in time for Señor Alvin and Señora Gloria when they returned from their long voyage. Juana hoped for better times. 

José took such good care of the flowers. Sometimes, despite all of his troubles, a plant or two would become diseased. They ceased to be the beautiful beings they were intended to be. They would become brown and ugly, and by doing so ruin the garden for all the rest and spread the disease to the other plants, too. The decay would start from within; the crowning blossoms were the last part of the plant to show the sickness. 

José never gave up on any sick flower if he didn't have to. He would move it so that he could give it special care, new soil, extra water and the right amount of sunshine. So long as there was still life in the plant, there was hope for it to get better. Not all did, of course, but José was able to pull many through.

Sometimes an ailing plant would recover to be the biggest and brightest of all the flowers. It would rejoin the other healthy plants and soon no one would remember that it had once been so decayed. José knew that the magic was not his. He had only enabled it—it was for the flower to heal itself. But he was, nonetheless, happy when it happened.  

Juana cast a glance at the table and the women seated around it. She watched them as they chatted and laughed with one another. It was good for the house to have happy people there. It reminded her of the flower beds in José's gardens. She finally came to understand what José often said: "In a good garden the flowers are always growing."



THE END

Dear Readers,

Thank you for reading "The Brass Statuettes". I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it for you. Thank you, also, for your comments throughout the story that were posted in the Public Section and or through the private e-mail facility. 

Good reading and best regards,

Autumn Writer