Page 167 of The Dommes

Ira

“Reports forecast a projected revenue of $15,000,000 in the first quarter,” my company’s accountant says halfway through our meeting. “This is of course assuming that all reservations are followed through and the pattern of interest continues. If I could direct your attention to Section 3 and the chart at the bottom of the first page…”

Papers flip over in unison. I have to lick my thumb twice to get mine to turn. Usually, Vivian prepares my papers for me, but today she was so busy that it’s a miracle I got this delivery at all. And now I can’t turn a damn page.

Seeing my struggle, Kathleen leans over and turns it for me. Nobody pays any attention.

It’s the first day of the final phase of her training. After waking up with my whole body screaming at me for denying myself yesterday, I decided to push some boundaries and see how Kathleen would react to me fondling her in her sleep when her collar was on – I would never if it were off. Unless, of course, she told me I could.

She not only got into it – she flourished.

I thought it wise to start the workday off right. I let her have free reign of her work clothes this week, and I’m pleased to see her in a stylish white turtleneck and black pencil skirt, hair up high on her head in a twist and jewelry so minimal that she’s only wearing her collar. I’m pleased to see this because the collar blends flawlessly with her look. Nobody would ever expect what that necklace symbolized.

I want to lean over and kiss her cheek, rub her shoulder, and take her hand in mine. I don’t. Not in a situation like this.

She’s my full-time sub these next few days, but our situation is still a secret. I can’t risk too much affection out in the open. There are other ways she can serve me, however. Flipping my paper over when I had such a hard time was a nice touch.

“Finally,” the accountant continues, “there’s the matter of funds we’re still waiting on from Xan Ravenwood.”

I perk up. Kathleen looks somewhat interested. My father, on the other hand, shrinks in his seat with one hand over his face. Great.

“Grab some coffee,” I whisper to Vivian. “Get yourself some too. We’ll be here a while.”

Vivian is five folders deep into taking notes, and she gives me a look of, “You better be shooing me away because you don’t want me to hear this, and not because you’re a lazy ass.” A bit of both, really.

“I’ll get it.” Kathleen stands up, smoothes out her skirt, and smiles at me. “I know how everyone here likes their coffee.”

Annie, her assistant, glances at her as if she’s lost her mind. I’m halfway to giving her that look too, but before I can say anything, Kathleen has left the room.

“Don’t get me started on Ravenwood,” my father says, interrupting my thoughts. “We were supposed to have the money in our account last week, but nobody can get a hold of the guy. I have no idea what’s going on. It’s giving me a headache.”

“If you don’t find the money soon…”

“I know what that means!’” My father slams his hand on the table, startling Annie and making Vivian roll her eyes. “We’ve got a ball to throw for the opening of the hotel. We’ve got supplies to stock. We’ve got brand new employees to hand out uniforms to and pay. At this rate, we’ll be making them pay for their own uniforms. That will go over well…”

Protestors echo in the back of my mind. Yeah, they would love that bit of news.

The accountant flips his folder shut and regards my father with near-disdain. “These discrepancies need to be covered soon. Either find a replacement investor or light a spark beneath Mr. Ravenwood’s ass.”

“As soon as I grow an arm long enough to reach the West Coast, I’ll let you know.”

Kathleen returns with a tray of coffee cups. She gives one to Annie first, then my father, then Vivian, then the accountant who declines because he’s heading out, and then…

Coffee lands in front of me. Delicately. Placed there with such care that we get more than a few looks. The accountant sighs again.

I’m not even sure Kathleen got herself coffee.

I thank her and say my goodbyes to the corporate accountant. He brushes me off. Yeah, the guy’s an ass, but there’s a reason we pay him tens of thousands a year to keep our finances in check. I think we’ve given him a couple of strokes over the years, and this latest debacle with missing investor funds is only the latest case.

“I don’t want to hear it.” Apparently my father is a mind reader. “Now I have to go crawling to your mother and ask her for some of the funds for a bigger investment.”

“Good luck with that. She hates your guts.”

“Fuck it! I’m going out to get a drink with the boys at the club.” My father leaps up from the table and ambles toward the conference room door. “Maybe one of them will have a few million to spare… thanks for the coffee, Kathleen.”

The four of us are left with an uncomfortable silence. “That’s a lot of missing money,” Kathleen mutters.

“Vivian,” I say, turning to my assistant. “Go make copies of these folders, would you please? You might want to take Annie with you.”

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