Under Her(2)By: Samantha Towle
She’s just a normal, good-looking woman. And she runs my life like a champ.
“Yeah, it was okay, but Wendy and her mom were talking wedding stuff nonstop all weekend.”
She rolls her eyes, and I laugh.
“Anyway, I’ve got this morning’s schedule ready for you, but first, your mom and dad are waiting for you in your office.”
“They are?” I move my eyes in the direction of my office door.
“How long have they been waiting?”
“Only five minutes or so.”
“And they didn’t say what they wanted to see me for?”
A mild unease settles in my gut.
Of course, it’s not unusual for my parents to turn up in my office unannounced, but first thing in the morning is unusual.
The last time they were waiting in my office for me this early in the morning was seven years ago when I was in a much smaller, much shittier office, working in the sales department, and I’d just screwed up the Renshaw deal. The big deal that they’d trusted me with.
And, by screwed up, I mean, I’d screwed Mr. Renshaw’s daughter, Amber, a few months prior.
In my defense, I hadn’t known who she was then, and the deal was in its infancy at that point.
But the problem was, Amber had wanted more than one ride on my dick, and when I’d told her—as I’d told her before we boned down—that it was a one-off, she hadn’t been so happy at all.
Like took-her-high-heeled-shoe-off-and-threw-it-at-my-head not happy. I was lucky I hadn’t lost an eye.
Seriously, why is it that some women will agree to no-strings sex, and then once the sex is over, they completely forget the prior conversation?
I know my dick is awesome, but he doesn’t have mind-erasing skills.
I don’t have time for relationships. And I like my life the way it is. Sex with no strings.
But Amber had been at the dinner meeting with Mr. Renshaw, and she had taken one look at me, whispered something in her father’s ear, and that was the end of that. Renshaw had decided he no longer was interested in considering stocking our products in his department stores. Well, he hadn’t exactly put it that politely, but you can imagine what he’d said.
I get that she’s his daughter, but it’s not my fault that she’s batshit crazy. And, seriously, if the guy can’t detach business from personal, then we shouldn’t want to work with him anyway.
But my parents didn’t exactly see it that way.
I got reamed out for losing the deal and also a lecture from my mom about how I should be treating women with respect and not trying to sleep my way through Chicago.
But that was seven years ago, and even though it still bugs me that it was the one deal I fucked up, I have to allow myself the fact that I was wet behind the ears in business. Everyone is allowed one screwup in business.
But I didn’t let the Renshaw fiasco put me off. I like fucking way too much to stop having it on the regular.
I just had to learn to be a lot smarter about who I climbed into bed with, which means that I make sure to keep my weekend activities far, far away from anything associated with the office. One sniff of a business connection with a potential screw, and I’m out of there and on to the next.
Maybe my parents just want to talk about the takeover. My parents will be retiring in a few weeks, and I’ll be taking over as CEO.
I know what you’re thinking. I’m their son, and that’s why they are giving me the job.
My parents are hard-asses. We might have money, but they’ve made me work for everything. My parents came from nothing and built this business together, and they want me to understand that you have to work hard in this life if you want anything. Nothing is just handed to you.
I had part-time jobs throughout high school, so long as they didn’t interfere with my studies. The only time I didn’t work was when I was in college, as my parents wanted me to focus fully on my studies. But every summer was spent here, in the office, working for them—whether it was in the mailroom or on reception. I’ve worked my ass off to learn this business inside out.
I did four years at Northwestern, earning a business degree. And then I went off to Columbia where I got my MBA in management. When I graduated from Columbia, I came back home to Chicago and started working here in sales. I have worked in every department in the company so that I will understand the running of the business for when it is my time to take over.
And now is my time.
“Wish me luck,” I say to Chrissy.
“You don’t need it, Mr. Soon-to-Be CEO.” She says the last part on a whisper even though no one is around to hear.
When my parents announced their retirement a month ago, it wasn’t formally announced that I’d be taking over. Everyone probably already knows though. I mean, it’s a given.
That must be why they’re in there, waiting—to talk about the big announcement.
I don’t get excited about much, but I’m excited about this.
With thoughts of my impending CEO status, I open the door to my office with a big fucking smile on my face.
“Mom, Dad,” I greet them both.
They’re sitting on my black leather sofa. I fucking love my office. It’s big with floor-to-ceiling windows, so the view of the city is immense. And I have my own private bathroom, which is always a bonus.