Come in here White. Harry could not believe it, but he was actually dizzy when he stood. What the hell is wrong? This is insane. He tried to adjust the serious business look on his face, but his mind and body were so alive and active with emotions that he had no idea what he looked like, but knew he felt like a leprous sheep being led to slaughter. He was so overwhelmed, not only by all these feelings, but also by the fact that he should be experiencing such feelings, that he was almost unable to get from his desk to Mr. Wentworths office. He again tried to pull on a look of self-assurance and entered the office.
You picked one hell of a time to screw off, White!
Im sorry Mr.—
Never mind the stories. I dont have time for them. Fortunately I was able to talk their people around not needing the data I did not have with me yesterday, so we have not lost the account, yet—a sigh inside of Harry went kerflop—no thanks to you. But time will only tell. Now, heres the data I took yesterday, tossing a couple of file folders on the desk, get all
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the information properly assembled. I am going to meet with them again next week. I had to do a back-breaking selling job, yesterday, to get that appointment, so make certain everything is ready. Got it?
Yes sir. I/ll—
I will be dictating some extensive notes to Mrs. Wills today, and she/ll give you a copy of them when they are transcribed. I want you to be absolutely certain that you incorporate the salient facts properly in our summary.
Yes sir, nodding his head, I/ll—
I want this proposal so perfect that it sells itself. Got me? Perfect!
Yes sir, nodding his head and picking up the files.
And one more thing, Harry standing erect and trying to look alert. This business of strolling off in the afternoon— Harry swallowing hard and praying for survival—it has ended. You understand? Ended!
Yes sir, standing stiff, afraid to move.
You are one of the brightest young men we have here, leaning back in his chair, but I dont give a damn how bright you are, youre not doing the corporation any good when you are not here. You understand me? A slight nod. You can have a great future here. You have all the equipment to go right to the top of the ladder . . . the very top. But—and this is the most important thing in your life—you have to want it. You have to want it more than anything else. Thats the key to success. It is available, but it is not going to be given to you. We can give you the opportunity, that is all. You have to do the work. Do I make myself clear?
Yes sir. Completely, hoping that the end was near so he could collapse at his desk and breathe.
Good. Now go ahead and do the kind of job I know you are capable of doing, and give it to Mrs. Wills when you are finished.
He made it. He was sitting at his desk and his body and mind were slowly, but steadily, relaxing, and his breathing came easier and he sat for many minutes, shaking his head in
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disbelief—disbelief that the turmoil was subsiding, and disbelief that he could react the way he had. He was still trembling, slightly, from fear.
When he thought he had sat at his desk long enough to impress anyone who might be watching, he went to the mens room. He bathed his face with cold water, then sat on a commode, with the top down, for a few minutes to relax. He wished he could take his clothes off and take a cold shower and put on dry clothes. After a few minutes he nodded his head, got up and went back to his desk and applied himself to his work. There was not too much more he could do on the Compton & Brisbane proposal until he got the notes from Louise, so he involved himself in another project. As he worked he slowly became aware that both his legs were bouncing up and down, and that he was feeling very squirmy in his crotch. He unobtrusively reached down and scratched his crotch a few times, then rubbed it and became aware of the fact that he had a painful hard-on. He suddenly started thinking of Mary and wondered if he should go over to the park— she/d be there in a few minutes—and take her to the hotel, but he quickly nixed that idea. He had to be here today, no matter what. But krist, he was horny. He never felt like this before. At least not that he remembered. The feeling overwhelmed him. He tried to concentrate on his work and all he could think of was his erection and the squirming in his crotch, and when he looked at the papers on his desk, he kept seeing Marys hairy bush and feeling the flesh of her ass between his teeth, or one of her tits in his mouth, and he fidgeted in his seat until he could no longer stand it, then guiltily looked around before getting up and going to the mens room and masturbating. When he finished he sat on the commode, his pants around his ankles, his head hanging dejectedly, sweat dripping down his face, swallowing a vile and bitter nausea he had never tasted before, trying to remember the last time he jerked off, but unable to. He turned red with guilt and remorse and shook his head, perplexed, wondering why he felt the way he did.
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Screw it. He stood up and dressed, washed his hands, splashed more cold water on his face, then went out to lunch.
He lost himself, and his thoughts and feelings, in the crowds on the streets and in the stores, before eating a sandwich in a coffee shop, then drifting with the crowds again. He continually glanced at his watch and made sure he got back at least five or ten minutes early.
When he got back to his desk, he felt weary and confused, but at least he was not battling an onslaught of unfamiliar feelings, and so he was able to lose himself in his work. In the middle of the afternoon Louise gave him the notes, and so he was absorbed in them for the remainder of the day and in fact was surprised, pleasantly, when Louise tapped him on the shoulder at five and told him it was time to go home.
Already? Boy, time sure does fly.
Yes, especially when you bury your head in work the way you did today. You know Harry, leaning a little closer, Mr. Wentworth really likes you. He thinks youre the brightest, most likable, young executive the firm has ever had.
Thanks Louise, looking at her with an expression of genuine humility and gratitude, that helps.
Just thought I/d mention it, smiling. Good night.
Harry gathered the papers together and left the office. His pace was lighter and quicker as he walked to the subway, it seeming like a lifetime ago that he dragged himself along the street to the bus and then along Forty-second Street. The reason for his lightness was the intense relief he now felt after enduring the dreaded confrontation with Mr. Wentworth, and the mildness and brevity of the reprimand. And, of course, Louises comment didnt do any harm. But the feeling of relief was actually secondary to the feeling of excitement that was responsible for the quickness of his pace and the crispness of his thinking.
What Louise had said about his burying his head in the work was true. And it worked. It eventually shoved all the other matters that were jumbling around in his brain aside and took
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over completely and he was once again the sharp and promising young executive. And to narrow it even further, the only thing he was conscious of now was the Compton & Brisbane account. Sometime during the afternoon, not long before he knocked off for the day, some of the information in the notes Louise had given him started to fit with something he remembered from the previous specifications and he hurriedly checked and dashed off a few equations. He thought he had found a way not only to save time, perhaps a week, but money as well... . He wasnt certain, but perhaps a few hundred thousand dollars. The excitement made him oblivious to the jostling and bumping of the subway. He could not wait to get back to work tomorrow.
The next morning he was involved with his new idea before he finished his coffee and cheese danish. By ten oclock he knew he was right. He stopped for a moment, then assembled the papers in the proper order and reviewed the proposal from the beginning to be absolutely certain he had not overlooked anything, and to collate more information to support his idea. By midafternoon he was ready to present his idea to Mr. Wentworth.
Again he was overwhelmed by how rapidly situations can turn themselves around—one da
y he was terrified by a prospective interview with his boss, and today he was anxiously anticipating it.
He had prepared a rough graphic summary of his idea, using the appropriate charts, and laid it out in front of Mr. Wentworth, and then went over it, step by step, referring to the clients data and spec sheets, and to their own experience and expertise.
I think youre right Harry. It sure as hell looks that way. We will save from five to seven days and at least a few hundred thousand dollars on the initial outlay. And who knows how much after that. Combine that with the edge we have going in, and no one can compete with us. Harry, patting him on the back, you did a good job. I am proud of you.
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Thanks Mr. Wentworth, smiling, thats good to hear.
You know—the old brain clicking away—I think we can save some additional monies and time by incorporating a few procedures from an existing job, and do the same for another one that should be coming up next year. In any event, that need not concern you. You go ahead and have this proposal prepared as you have outlined and we will be in business. They smiled at each other and Harry gathered up his papers and Mr. Wentworth patted him on the back as he left.
The following days flew by as swiftly as a flying arrow, or as swiftly as an arrow can fly through the heat and humidity of a New York City summer. Harry spent the weekend on Fire Island with some friends amid the usual Fire Island madness and hysteria. He swam, walked along the beach, strolled over the reed spotted dunes, stared out at the ocean, tumbled in the surf, soaked up some sun, played volleyball, endured the shrill cacophony of a few parries and screwed a couple of broads.
The following week there were a couple of rush jobs and Harry once again had his head immersed in work, and so the excitement continued to carry him through the days, the subway rides, and the nights, which he spent primarily at home watching the tube with his folks, or reading a book.
At the end of the week Mr. Wentworth brought back the signed Compton & Brisbane contract, and told Harry he was going to take him out that night as a small token of his appreciation. Im going to give you the full treatment, just as if you were a prospective client, and smiled at Harry and gave him half a wink.
Thats fine with me, chuckling and nodding his head.
They waited for the girls in their suite at the Plaza. They arrived at seven-thirty, and Harry knew that he definitely was going to have a good time. Harry, this is Alice and—Cherry. I thought you were the redhead type, so I asked Alice to see what she could do.
Hi.
Hello.
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Hi.
Actually Im an any-head type, smiling, the others chuckling, but I must admit that Alice sure did just great.
Wentworth poured them all drinks, and they clinked ice cubes and sat around letting the cool drinks warm things up. This was Harrys first experience with a professional of any type, no less a member of the Public Relations Entertainment Committee—the take-your-clothes-off-I-want-to-talk-to-you, lie-down-so-I-can-hear-you-better faction. O well, thats show biz, of which theres no biz like.
After a drink or two they left for dinner, and Harry joined in the conversation, thinking about throwing a good one into this Cherry.
And he did. And a few more. It was the best night Cherry had since entering the Public (Pubic?) Relations field. After dinner they made the rounds of a few night spots and played a little kneesies and pinch assie under the table, then went back to their suite at the Plaza.
By the time they got back to the hotel Harry had worked himself up into a lather, and so before Cherry could get all her clothes off, Harry buried his face in her luscious crotch. When he came up for air, he helped her undress and they frolicked and cavorted until they finally went seepy, seepy bye bye.
The next morning Wentworth was pretty much the corporate executive as he paid the girls, in cash, and checked his pockets to be certain he was not leaving anything behind. As they stood at the curb waiting for cabs, Mr. Wentworth nudged Harry on the shoulder and screwed his face into a sly look. Pretty good night, eh Harry? Pretty good stuff. I hope you didnt find yourself out of your league.
No, it went all right, smiling and trying to look sly, at least as far as I know. Wentworth laughed and just before he closed the door of his cab he said, I/ll see you bright and early Monday morning, Harry.
Sunday night Harry ended up at a dance in Sheepshead Bay with some of his friends, and, as usual, he left after a short
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time with half of a marriage, the bottom half. Everything was pretty much the same, with one exception: he fell asleep. A fact he did not become aware of until he fought to keep his eyes closed Monday morning as the light stabbed at them, then suddenly realized that he was not at home. He looked around, then realized where he was and slowly remembered the night before. Somewhere around two or three in the morning, Olga (if thats her name) rolled him over on his stomach and started massaging his neck and shoulders, and that was the last thing he remembered. He sat up suddenly and looked at the time, then jumped out of bed and took a quick shower, then dressed, kissed Olga on the left cheek, or her ass, and left.
He rushed home to change his clothes, then rushed to the subway. He was a little breathless by the time he found a strap to hang on in the train, but was not too disturbed about being late even though it was just a short time ago that he had to endure a torturous reprimand. After all, after Friday night there should not be any hassle with Wentworth. If he asks me why Im late, I/ll just tell him I was with a broad and did not notice the time. But so he would not add insult to injury, Harry decided to forgo his coffee and cheese danish.
He got to the office a few minutes before ten, and for some reason the fact that he was less than an hour late was sig-nificent to him. He could see that Mr. Wentworth was already in his office, but that did not create any uneasiness. He sat at his desk and opened the file of the proposal he was currently involved in. After ten minutes, or so, Mr. Wentworth buzzed him, and he picked up the phone. Yes sir?
White, theres a time for play and a time for work, and the successful man never gets the two confused.
Click! End of message. It took Harry a few seconds to react to the silence, the stern voice and click still seeming to reverberate somewhere in his head. Especially that click. It seemed to have such a finality to it. Absolute. He hung up the phone and became aware of the hollowing churning in his gut. Jesus,
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not again. This is crazy. Feeling good, feeling bad. Feeling good, feeling bad. Somethings goofy here.. . .
O well,
screw it. Its not all that important. I/ll just get to work and pretty soon this whole thing—whatever in the hell it is—will be gone. He buried his head in his work.
He kept his head there for the remainder of the week, making a fifty-minute hour out of his lunch hour. But then the emergency and urgency disappeared, and he soon started eating a quick lunch and spending the rest of the time walking along Fifth Avenue and through the stores.
From time to time, quite frequently as a matter of fact, he thought of Mary and the time in the Hotel Splendide. He was not so much interested in her—she was obviously trouble, and he studiously avoided the lake in the park—but those weeks certainly did give him something to do with his time. But he remembered, too, what happened later that afternoon, and did not want to go through that torture again. Not for anything.
So Harry would stroll aimlessly along the avenue and through the stores, always going in a direction away from the park.
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3
One day Harry was looking around the mens department of a store, when a woman suddenly turned around and knocked into him, dropping her pocketbook, which opened, the contents spilling out. O, excuse me, Im sorry.
No, it was my fault, I shouldnt have turned so suddenly.
Here, let me help you, helping her pick up the contents of her pocketbook and noticing the sheen of her stockings as she knelt beside him.
Thank you
, putting the last of them in and closing the pocketbook, Im really sorry.
No harm done, smiling.
I saw a sign that said sale, chuckling apologetically, and I guess I just started to charge like a bull in a china shop.
If bulls ever looked like you, I/d be a matador. She smiled in acknowledgment of the compliment and started to relax. Where is that sign you saw?
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Over there, in the tie department.
O . . . yeah. Looking for something for your husband?
No, smiling, my father. Its his birthday.
Then why dont you let me help you? Im an expert on ties and fathers.
Really? smiling.
Absolutely. I have both. They both chuckled and went over to the counter and started looking. Now, I assume you want silk.
Gee, I dont know. Im such a ninny when it comes to things like ties.
Well, fear not, your problems are over. Now, what color hair does he have?
Well, squinting and twisting her mouth, its sort of dark with a little gray. Mostly on the side. Sort of distinguished you know.
Of course, your father would have to be, returning her smile. Does he usually wear gray and blue suits?
Ahhh ... yes, I guess he does. How did you know? looking at him with astonishment, youre amazing.
O, gesturing, nothing to it my dear Potson. Now, here are some stripes that will go with any shade of gray or blue. Just about, anyway.
O, gee, at those prices I can afford to get him a couple of ties. Harry showed her various ties from the rack, and she looked, shook her head and finally told Harry she didnt know which ones to choose.
Well, we cant have a beautiful young damsel like you in such a state of confusion. Here, taking two ties from the rack, why dont you buy these? Im sure he/ll like them. Theyre perfect for any occasion.