It begun in the middle of the night. Always in the mist of shadowy dreams. That deep yearning for his touch, for his love. She felt bound to him, compelled to his side by an unknown urge.
He bore a mask. An alluring one, depicting a roman-greek god with a full beard, and a distinctive south mediterranean slightly aquiline nose. And she would ever try to tear the mask apart, followed by failure and an abrupt wake.
Sweat runs down her forehead, as her womanhood moistly blooms. Violet can still feel his hands on her flesh, branding her as his. Everyday, for a few months now.
Softly, Violet rises from bed. Dawn hasn't arrived yet. In the dark she paces along the room, heading for a cold shower. As the icy water wanders her curvy body, Violet unconsciously caress her inner self, craving for a warmer stroke.
Morning. Work. Lunch. Afternoon. Work. Evening. Home. Night. Dream.
A complete and utter boredom filled her lyfe. Since the recurring dream invaded her nights, a troublesome incubus that makes her ponders where her lyfe is heading towards.
Violet Price works as a personal assistant of a senior executive and chairman of the board of King & Martin Company, Mr. Maxwell King, grandson of one of the founders. Her day to day is somewhat stressful, but she doesn't really mind it. She is just thrilled to work for Mr. King, an admired businessman and highly steemed tactician in the business world. Violet current goal is to at least knock down her present numbness. At work hours.
Wearing her regular good-morning smile, she heads for Mr. King's office. He obstinately came in before anyone else. For sixty years, it was said. She worked for him for two years now, and is used to his ways. But not this morning. There was no King in sight.
Violet asked the secretary. No King.
Shivering, she fears the worst. The elder chairman is 81 years old, and had a bypass surgery a few years ago.
Breathe, Violet. In. Out. Calm down.
She slowly takes her cel phone out, and starts dialing when the sudden movement caughts her attention. It is Mr. King. Safe and sound!
Mr. King! You got me worried! Did you just arrived?
The elder man winks at her and smirks.
I'm glad you missed me, Ms. Price. I'll tell my Bella, she'll be jealous!
Violet smiles back.
Please, don't get me into trouble, Mr. King.
So monday starts at the head office, the Brittish division of King & Martin Co, a worldwide conglomerate that operates from hotels to electronic materials.
At the end of the work day, 8 p.m. for him, he approaches the old record player he left many years ago in his office, and puts his favorite singer of all times: Sinatra. As the song fills the air, he sits, eyes closed, contemplating his impending retirement. Forced out of the company he gave his own blood to help build. He took a mediocre business and transformed it into one of the most powerful conglomerate ever seen. And the board asked for his retirement! Nonsense! And for what? So a Martin could reign.
It was a tacit agreement, made by the founders King and Martin, that always one family would succeed the other as head of the company. And now the board decided the Martin reign shall begin. Little could he do to prevent it.
In this train of thought Maxwell King went on when the melodic tunes pierced the night. A raucous contralto voice permeates the shallow office. He'll miss it like the world.
I've got you under my skin
I've got you deep in the heart of me
So deep in my heart that you're really a part of me
I've got you under my skin
I'd tried so not to give in
I said to myself this affair never will go so well
But why should I try to resist when baby I know so well
I've got you under my skin
And then she comes, with her amiable and shy grin. Violet Price. A striking beauty, with the appealing naïve air of a woman that doesn't really know her effect on the opposite sex. Maxwell knew all too well her effect. But fancies he just sees her as some sort of pupil. He is happily married to Bella and would stay that way until the day he becomes dust.
Mr. King, I'm heading home. Do you need something from me before I go?
Unconciously, his right hand reaches his chest, where his heart lies. He will miss her the most.
No. You may go, Ms. Price. Good night.
She begins to pace away as he has an urgent thought.
Ms. Price?
Yes?
It just occurred to me that I haven't told you.
Told me what, Mr. King?
I'm... I'm retiring.
She freezes.
This is my last week as chairman.
But you are remaining as senior executive, I suppose.
No, Violet. I'm retiring of all King & Martin things related.
Oh. I'm.. sorry? I assumed you would be here for a few more years... I... there's so much left to learn!
Yes, my dear. I fear the decisions are being made. Don't worry. Before I go, I shall relocate you to a nice position within the company. That would be all. Good night.
As Violet reaches the elevator, a stubborn tear rolls down her left cheek.
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