© 2012, by Susan J. Charles. All rights reserved
Edited by Holly H. Hart

The following Monday evening, Phil announced we’d be entertaining some Chinese businessmen, together with Steve and the CEO the next evening. As the hostess, I’d be the only woman there. After some research, I headed down to the Fish Market to pick up some fresh-caught fish for the dinner, together with a case of good white wine.

My efforts in the kitchen earned several comments of praise. Dropping my eyes and almost bowing, I thanked everyone. Phil had warned me ahead of time to not let our guests know that I understood Chinese, so I didn’t react when one man asked the other in Chinese how much he thought he ought to offer Phil for my services for the evening. The other replied that it would have to be a very high amount, and I announced I had to go into the kitchen to check on dessert. Once there, I didn’t know whether to smile or be angry that they thought I was a high-priced whore. Since I was fooling them so well, I finally decided that I’d appreciate being a “high amount.”

'If they only knew,' I chuckled to myself.

Later, Phil asked me if our guests had said anything important when they were speaking Chinese. After I replied in the negative, he told me that he wanted me to go to work with him the following day. It seemed they were having a major meeting, and Steve wanted me to attend and sit in a corner like a secretary taking notes, and listen to anything which might be said. The Chinese had brought an interpreter with them for the meeting, but Steve thought it might be valuable for me to be listening for our side.

Agreeing, I rode in with Phil the next morning wearing my grey pinstriped “professional” skirt suit. My red hair was put up in a stylish, but conservative bun. I had on grey hose and shoes with only two-inch heels so that I did not tower over the Chinese. I was even wearing glasses with non-prescription lenses. My job, Phil kept telling me, was to blend in and not call attention to myself. Although I did nothing to call attention to myself, I noticed every man in the room, including the Chinese, checked out my legs as I entered. I found a chair to one side of the conference table, sat down, crossed my legs and pulled a steno pad out of my briefcase.

I wasn’t introduced and I sat quietly taking notes. It was hard work keeping a professional face at times when I overheard things we Americans weren’t supposed to understand.

After the meeting ended, we adjourned to Steve’s office and I was asked if I’d heard anything. “Not much,” I admitted. “It was a little strange, however. I picked up a couple of comments that indicated they were expecting you to object to some points. I’m not sure why.”

As I couldn’t add anything else, Steve had Phil show me to a cubical where I could type up my notes. When I’d finished, I sent them to the printer and saved them to a “Negotiations” file. I was wondering what else to do when I saw a familiar face.

“Hi, Jessica,” Carly said peaking around the wall of the cubicle I was in. Carly was a regular at the football parties. “A bunch of us girls are heading out to lunch and wanted to know if you’d like to join us?”

It turned out that Phil was still tied up in Steve’s office, so I joined the girls at a nearby restaurant. I had fun at lunch just being one of the girls. We didn’t talk about anything earthshaking, just girl talk and office gossip. I was asked if I was going to be a new office assistant, and I told them I was just in as a consultant for the negotiations. They talked about how important the project was. In fact, the CEO, J.B. Anderson, whom I’d met the night before, would be attending the next day’s session.

Too soon the lunch hour was over. It was disappointing that everyone had to get back to work so soon. I realized I was missing a lot of contact with other women when I was home alone. Even my workouts and classes didn’t quite make up for it because there, everyone was busy working on their own agenda, and there wasn’t a lot of time to stop and chat.

That’s when it hit me how much I missed Karen now that our contact had to be hidden. Thank goodness for the football parties where we could have some time together. But in a party atmosphere, we couldn’t have the close heart-to-heart talks we used to have.

Phil and I rode into the office again the next day. I was wearing another of my “professional businesswoman” skirt suits and looked much the same as I had the day before. I took my seat and again took notes. As I wrote and listened, I started to put a still fuzzy picture together. One of my biggest strengths is to pull disparate things together and see patterns that most people miss. After the meeting ended, the men on Phil’s team stayed in the meeting room and went over the meeting with J. B. Steve again asked me if I’d heard anything of note.

“I’m not sure yet,” I answered. “I’m starting to get some ideas that may be worth exploring, but I need to observe tomorrow’s meeting to be sure.”

“Just let us know what you hear,” J. B. said. “We’ll handle the ideas.”

I was again ushered out to type my notes while the men stayed to plan their strategy. That got me to wondering why there weren’t any women on the team? I mean, this is the 21st Century, after all.

“Oh we’ve got a glass ceiling you wouldn’t believe,” Carly said at lunch when I asked about it. “We’ve got a woman Vice President of Human Resources and one who runs Public Relations, and a couple of analysts who have high duty titles, but the really big, high powered stuff is just for the men.”

“With that kind of climate, no wonder I was shown the door so quickly today,” I replied. “I need to do some research. Can you show me how to access the internet when we get back?”

Carly did, and I spent the rest of the afternoon researching on-line. I made several interesting discoveries. It was time to read both the English and Chinese versions of the revised contract, and I asked Phil to bring copies home with us.

I put dinner together while Phil got online to check his e-mail. After dinner, he turned on the TV while I finished up doing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen. Then I went into the office to get online again.

It turned out Phil had not signed out. Someone had forwarded him a PowerPoint file labeled “XXX.” Out of curiosity, I opened it. It was a series of pictures of naked girls in full frontal poses, many with their legs spread wide open and everything showing. My God, some of their breasts were huge! I felt sure some of them had to have had implants because I had never seen such breasts on any normal woman. I also checked out how they had shaped their public hair since I had to shave down there before my next dance class. One of the girls started up with a typical “landing strip” but had a little round ball shape on top almost like a tree. It was cute and I decided to see if I could do the same to myself.

Then it hit me. If Mark had gotten a file like this, he would have been so turned on, he would have shot cum across the room the minute he touched his dick. And yet, here I was going through the pictures with a critical eye, comparing myself to each of the women and rating how I stacked up against them. (Yeah, that’s a pun!) When I looked at the pictures where the girls had spread their legs apart, rather than being turned on, I found myself jealous, wanting the same as they had!

That caused me to stop and do some deep thinking. Of course, at some point, I planned to go back to being Mark, didn’t I? When everything was straightened out, I had to. Yet my reactions to the photos in the file made me take a close look at myself. Where was Mark? I didn’t feel any vibes from him over the pictures. They didn’t do much for me at all. This was something Tina and I had to discuss at our next session.

I shut down the computer and went up to take a bath. I took off my form and shaved everywhere. I was able to shape my pubic region into a pretty good likeness of the stripe and ball. After a good soak with everything off and untaped, I patted myself dry and stood naked before the full-length mirror. I took a good look at myself.

I liked the way my skin felt with my moisturizing routine. It was soft and smooth as I ran my hands along my legs and arms. With my health club routines, yoga and dance classes, I was getting really toned, but not muscular.

The only thing out of place was that little package hanging between my legs. It disturbed me, and I pushed it back between my legs, closed them and looked again. Now things looked right! I was getting anxious for my year’s RLT to be up so I could try seeing what hormones would do.

I put myself back together, rolled my hair for the next day, pulled on a nightgown and went back downstairs. Phil was involved in a Lakers-Trailblazers game, so I gave him a kiss and went to bed.

Later, I found myself in the weirdest dream. I was trying to find a toilet because I needed to have a bowel movement. When I finally found one, I sat down only to have the seat pulsing against me. Then I woke up enough to realize that Phil had come to bed, pulled down my panties and was pumping my rear end from behind. ‘Oh well,’ I thought. ‘Let him have his fun, as long as it doesn’t involve a response from me.’ Then I went back to sleep. I guess he did have some fun, since I had to clean myself up in the morning. It would have been nice if he’d at least asked.

The meeting confirmed what I’d been speculating about. I’d read the revised contracts yet another time on the way to work. A pattern had become perfectly clear, was logical, and made sense.

Once the Chinese had left, Steve asked me what I’d heard. “What they said was that they expected you to find what you did,” I said. “Every point you raised was anticipated. You are not engaged in negotiations, but are following their script to get to the point they want you to be.”

“Can you prove this?” Steve asked.

“Not directly,” I answered. “But the pattern fits. Especially since there’s a clause in the Chinese version that states that you all agree that in case of any conflicts, the Chinese version will be the binding agreement.”

“Now, young lady, you just don’t understand,” J.B. said. “You’re misreading things. I’ve been dealing with these kinds of people since before you were born. I remember an incident in Tokyo in 1982 ...”

“But these are Chinese, not Japanese,” I interrupted. “What you need to do ...”

“Young lady, that is enough!” J.B interrupted loudly. “I know what to do. I won’t have a cheerleader telling me any different! Go type your report and let us decide what to do.”

‘Oh crap, he knows about my weekends.’ I looked at the floor, picked up my purse and left the room. I had tried.

I was so frustrated I called Madeline and dumped on her. I felt okay doing this since she was part of the bank family, and I hadn’t signed any sort of confidentially agreement anyway. “They are being led down the garden path,” I told her. “J.B. may have experience dealing with the Japanese, but the Chinese are a totally different culture. They are determined to get exactly what they want, regardless. To top it off, the Chinese version of the contract says that the deal is only for North American rights, and a lot of the manufacturing that uses the rare earths has moved off shore. This isn’t the money maker they think it is.”

“Oh, you young ladies today,” Madeline replied. “You take women’s lib so seriously you don’t realize it’s still a man’s world. Worse, you told J.B. he didn’t know what he was talking about. You challenged his masculine ego. Have you ever seen his office?”

“Huh? No, but what’s that got to do with it?”

“Everything,” she replied. “There are kings in some countries whose throne rooms are smaller than J.B.’s office. Men are so insecure that they need lots of visual reminders that they have achieved something.”

“So what should I do?” I asked.

“Prepare your report,” she answered. “Sometimes, facts in black and white on paper are more credible than when coming from the mouth of a very smart, but very beautiful young lady. But also don’t be surprised if even the report is ignored. Sometimes, you just have to let the boys play with their toys, no matter what the consequences.”

“I can do that,” I said. “But I still don’t like it.”

“Sometimes that’s all we girls can do,” she said. “But in the meantime, I think I’ll see about moving some of my money around until this all blows over.”

I went to lunch with the girls in the office and was asked again if I was going to hire on as a secretary. I told them that once I finished my latest report, I’d be leaving. They all said they were sorry to see me go and that they’d see me at the football parties.

I typed up my report, included what references I could, and sent it to Steve. The problem was that I couldn’t prove some things, but I had every confidence that the patterns I’d seen were correct. It was just that, like in school, I could see patterns that everyone else missed and I was unable to communicate to them how I’d arrived at my conclusions.

Phil wasn’t too happy with me that evening. My challenge to J.B. reflected badly on Steve and Phil. He said he’d smoothed things over by explaining that I misunderstood why I was there. In any case, I was through, and the “people who knew what they were talking about,” would take negotiations from there. I didn’t need to worry my pretty little head anymore about it.

The next day I made a quick call to Karen and suggested she review our company’s investments to be sure Phil’s firm wasn’t among them. “I’ll snail mail you a list of alternative sources of rare earths which may be worth investing in,” I said. “But you didn’t get them from me.”

Next, I made an appointment to see Sandy before I worked on uploading more recipes into my little kitchen program.

I was surprised to get a call from Steve that afternoon. He’d read my report and thought a lot of it. Unfortunately, J.B. had set the Bank’s course, and Steve could only try to minimize the potential damage I foresaw. I agreed to review any documents he might send over and prepare reports on my reactions to them. He emphasized that I was to send my responses directly to him, and let no one, not even Phil, know what I was doing.

Sunday was a big day for Seattle. It was an away game, which was always more difficult to win, but if the Seahawks won, and someone else lost, they’d make the wild card playoff game. Everyone was excited at the football party. I was running around in my Sea Gal costume and receiving the usual looks at my boobs and crotch. A couple of guys couldn’t seem to take their eyes off the space between my legs, and I knew in their minds, they were seeing the same sorts of things that I’d seen in that computer file Phil had. Just for the fun of it, I made sure to spread my legs wide before them when I jumped during one of the cheers I did between plays. For some reason, they sat a little hunched over for a while after that.

Some of the girls from the office and I spent some time talking. There was really nothing new they could tell me, except that there were a lot of meetings going on. I also got a little time with Karen, and she told me Fred might be calling me the coming week.

Wonder of wonders, the Seahawks won! Better, the team that needed to lose, lost. We were in the wild card game!

Terri called me the next day and told me they wanted me to work the wild card game. ”But what about the other girls who have been on the standby squad all season?” I asked. “I really don’t want to jump line over them. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Listen, Jessica,” Terri said. “This is a business decision. Just like with the football team, it’s not about seniority, but rather ability. You are better than those other girls, and that’s why we want you out there Sunday.”

Still a little reluctant, I agreed to do it. I was jumping ahead of girls who had been waiting a long time, and that bothered me. I wasn’t even a real girl!

Terri handed me a check at dance class. It was for my work at the previous game. I decided to open an account in my own name with it. I don’t know why I didn’t want to use “Watson,” but I thought that Jessica Stafford ought to have at least a little money of her own.

Phil was extremely busy that week and it became a pattern for the next several weeks. He started getting home later and later, so I started planning menus that could be reheated easily. He’d come home very tense, and often he wanted me to provide him with relief more than he wanted to eat. I obliged, mostly with a quick blowjob, before getting dinner out. After dinner, he usually watched some sports event on TV and I found myself going to bed alone.

I told Phil I was going to be a Sea Gal at the wild card game and that I’d made arrangements again to have the football party covered. He gave me a halfhearted “Fine,” and went back to watching his game. For some reason, that hurt. I wanted him to be proud of my accomplishments and he wasn’t paying any attention.

Game day began rather nice and sunny, so we started out wearing our regular tops and tight, full-leg pants. Somewhere in the second quarter, the fog rolled in and it got a lot colder. All of the Sea Gals had goose bumps all over their skin and their nipples were sticking straight out. Except me. With my all-in-one form I wasn’t showing either goose bumps or hard nipples on my boobs. When I realized that, I began holding my pom-poms up to my chest like I was trying to keep warm. Clearly I was going to have to do something about that.

We all covered up at halftime. As I was putting on the warm-up top, I got bumped rather hard in the back.

“Ow!” I said. “Watch it!”

“Watch it yourself, Bitch!” came the reply. Shaundra, a tall blonde, got in my face. “You shouldn’t even be here. Some of us waited a long time for our chance to be a Sea Gal, and you come waltzing in here in a few weeks and take over the open spot.”

About that time, Terri arrived. “It’s not about time, it’s about talent,” she said. “I know your friend Betsy is a standby, but Jessica is better, and we’ve got a show to put on. So get over it and get back out there!”

Shaundra gave me a glare and stomped away. “I’d watch out for her next half,” Terri warned me.

Sure enough, Shaundra seemed to be near me a lot the second half. It seemed like her pom-poms would “accidentally” get near my face a few times. On one dance, I had to jump a little to avoid getting tripped. Fortunately, I was able to improvise and make my jump look like part of the routine. I decided it would be best to just ignore her as much as possible. As Terri said, we had a show to put on.

The game was exciting. The lead went back and forth. Near the end, it looked like the Eagles would win when they scored a touchdown giving them a one point lead with only a little over a minute remaining. Then the Seahawks had a great kickoff return out to nearly the 50-yard line. We were jumping up and down and yelling our lungs out.

Two passes got the ball to the 32-yard line right next to where we were standing. Then, the Eagles broke through the line and sacked our quarterback, putting the ball back on the 39. With only a couple of seconds left, our kicker came out onto the field. I’d watched him warm up almost beside me. He kept kicking the ball into a net, over and over again.

It was all up to him. The ball was snapped. The kick was up and we won by two points as time expired. I jumped up, turned a cartwheel and came down into a split. Then we regrouped and did our victory dance in the end zone.

Finally the excitement died down and the crowd started filing out. I was gathering up my things next to the wall when I heard my name called. I looked up and saw Cindy leaning over the rail and waving down to me.

“I thought that was you, Jessica,” Cindy said. “I met you at a charity dinner a while back.”

“Oh yes,” I said. “Cindy, wasn’t it?”

“You remembered,” she squealed. “Good to see you again. Wasn’t it a great game?”

“Wasn’t it!” I replied. Cindy looked as frazzled as I felt after the game. Jake was with her. They made a great looking couple.

“See you next game,” Cindy yelled, and then they were off. I gathered my things and headed into our dressing room. When I got there, I could see Terri talking to Shaundra. Terri looked very angry and Shaundra was red faced. After a while Shaundra came over to me and gave me a very hesitant apology.

“I still don’t think it’s entirely fair,” she said. “But you are good. Just don’t expect me to be your friend.” ‘Well, you can’t please everyone,’ I reflected. ‘Some girls are just going to be mean.’ It was good to have the right friends in the right places.

It wasn’t until the glow of the win wore off a little while I was driving home, that I realized what had happened just before I’d come off the field. I’d seen and talked with Cindy and hadn’t had any strong feelings at all. Okay, I was being Jessica, but when I looked inside, Mark didn’t have any strong feelings either. No feelings of depression, or any other kind of reaction. In fact, I’d even thought how good Cindy and Jake looked together.

Karen’s “Jessica” therapy had worked.