The Card Game

Revised: 11/4/2022

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This is a short tale compared to most of our other stuff. We think you will find it worth your time.

This is purely a fun retelling of an event.

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The Card Game

Oh, wow. Just

wow

. The timing would be perfect. The planets and stars couldn't have lined up any better. It was a perfect coincidence if ever there was one when I saw her name on the list of tentative panelists in the draft of a program sent to me via email a few hours earlier.

I later received a phone call from the event coordinator who'd sent the memo. At the beginning of the call, I was offered a brief introduction and background, both of which were entirely unnecessary since I knew, professionally, both the woman on the other end of the line as well as the conference she was pitching.

"We'd love for you to present the opening and closing keynotes. Would you be willing?"

"Absolutely. I'd be honored."

"The schedule is still fairly fluid at this point. We'll have it all ironed out by the middle of next month."

"Have all the proposed panelists been notified?"

"They have, but firm commitments from a handful haven't been received yet. The panelists' schedules can't be finalized until we do."

"Ah. Understood. Give me a call if anything needs to change. It's not a show-stopper for me if you can't make it work. I'm willing to participate either way, of course, and I really appreciate you trying to make it stick."

"I'll stay in touch via email as we get everything sorted out. All you need to worry about for now are your presentations. We've selected three potential themes for this year's conference. I'll need to know which one you favor by next week. We've got top-notch media specialists on the team, so feel free to reach out to them whenever you need."

"Thanks, Ms. Samuels. I'm very much looking forward to it, and it's great talking to you again."

She chuckled. "Maybe we can even meet face-to-face this time."

"That'd be great, and I really hope so, too. I might be sending you a list of a few minor things I'll need before the conference if that's okay."

"Shouldn't be a problem at all. Talk to you soon," she responded.

I hung up the phone and my wheels started turning.

I needed a plan. A woman who... well, I'll only say I'd appreciated her appearance for a very long time, and she was slated to be a panelist at the conference to which I'd just been invited to speak. There was no way in

hell

I was going to pass up an opportunity to be in her professional, and hopefully, very

personal

presence. I sat at my desk for about thirty minutes, mindlessly sifting through unimportant emails, when one started tickling neurons in my brain. The idea of a slow tease... a game of sorts, popped into my mind.

I wouldn't ordinarily attend an entire week at a conference for which I was scheduled to give only the opening and closing keynotes. That's typical for anyone in my position, and not abnormal for a number of the panelists who would be speaking at the "2019 International Business Leadership Conference."

For most conferences similar to the IBLC, I'd fly in the evening before opening day, then fly back home that afternoon. I'd do the same thing the morning of the closing then fly back home after it. A total of fourteen hours in the air across four flights and maybe twenty-four hours on the ground during those six days would be interleaved with ordinary workdays at the office.

In the case of the IBLC, I couldn't afford to squander the intervening days and hours. I had to ensure I was as close to that gorgeous woman as I could be for as long as possible.

The game continued to develop itself in my mind over the next month. When I received a proof of the conference agenda which indicated the object of my desire would be in town the last half of the week, I decided I'd stay for the entire duration.

On the Thursday afternoon before the conference's opening, I surreptitiously packed extra clothes and sent them ahead via FedEx to the hotel. My wife knew my ordinary routine of double out-and-backs so I didn't want to risk explaining to her why I was packing for three extra days. I did the FedEx bit while she was occupied shopping for groceries.

I packed a more typical two days' worth of clothing and necessities into an overnight carry-on, kissed my wife as I got into my SUV at the house, and headed to the airport for my flight to San Jose, California.

It was too late in the evening of my arrival for me to do much of anything to further my plan. On checking in at the hotel, I was given a parcel containing a few things I'd requested from Ms. Samuels. My FedEx box had already been sent to my room. The parcel contained additional program materials for me to review before my keynote address the following morning. The remainder consisted of two packs of pastel index cards. One pack contained green, and the other pack held red.

I used one of the computers in the business center of the hotel to print out numerous notes I'd stored on a cheap USB memory stick. I knew there was a slight risk of being seen or observed, but it didn't matter because I had no other option unless I decided to go to some other location or retail outlet to do my work.

The first note read:

Hello. I know this might seem a little strange. I know you, and you know me. We've known each other in professional circles for quite some time. You do not need to know who I am, but I think you are one of the most intelligent, interesting, and beautiful women to ever grace the face of the Earth. I've had my eye on you for a long, long time. I will also tell you that you have nothing to fear from me.

I am attending the conference, of course. Call me a secret admirer if you like, because I do admire you.

Along with this note, I've enclosed two cards. One green, one red. If you are curious and wish to continue this little game, place the green card under your name tent on the table before you leave the room. Otherwise, use the red card. If you display the red one, I give you my word that I'll cease all similar communications immediately and the game will end.

It is important you place the card where I can see it from a moderate distance. Discard the other. If you decide to follow your curiosity and employ the green one, It will be replaced.

I am providing no option to communicate with me other than this binary yes/no arrangement.

I look forward to your signal. Because I respect you, I look forward to seeing

either

signal. Though I will be saddened if it's a red card, I will honor both you and your decision.

On Monday morning, I was in my designated place, ready for my sixty-minute opening remarks.

I walked out to the brightly lit stage as I was introduced.

"Good morning, everyone!" I said with as much energy as I knew from much public-speaking experience, would be required to immediately engage my audience, but not so much as to come across as an out-of-touch grandstander.

The enormous venue resounded with simultaneous responses.

"Wow! It's great to see the thousands of smiling faces. I'm happy to be here with all of you, once again, despite the brutally early hour."

That elicited a comfortable distribution of laughter.

Camera operators using wireless equipment dotted the aisles. Video of the attending crowd appeared over my head for all to see.

"Three thousand or so of you and your peers are leading the world's businesses, and I'm thrilled and truly honored to be here with each and every one of you.

"I'm sure some of you have no idea who I am. You might know

of

me, but I also know there's a few dozen here this morning who've worked with me over the last two decades and have gotten to

know

me. It amazes me that, in our incredibly connected world, our interpersonal networks make the world so much smaller."

I spent roughly ninety seconds introducing myself and my background.

"I want to play a little game with all of you if you'll bear with me. I'd bet we could do a Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon sort of thing and demonstrate how almost every one of us are connected. In fact, I'd almost be willing to bet our connections could be established in three or four degrees.

"Let's see a show of hands. Who among you knows this individual?"

An image appeared over my head on the huge screen.

"It's dark out there, but I think I see at least a hundred people who recognize Ellen Sargasso, the founder and CEO of Sargasso Industrial. She'll be presenting later this week from this very stage.

"Can y'all turn up the house lights real quick?" I said, looking into the distance toward the control station.

"A little more? There. Perfect, thanks.

"Everyone who's holding up their hands can put them down... that is, unless you've actually spoken with or worked with Mrs. Sargasso in person.

"Alright. The rest of you still holding up a hand, I want you to stand up. Yep, stand up for a minute so I can scan the crowd and... Excellent!

"There's Andrew Crayton," I said and gestured with an extended arm, "the new CIO of Envest Matrix Resources. I personally know both Ellen and Andrew quite well. I previously worked with Ellen a number of years ago, and Drew worked for me during an enormous undertaking a couple of years ago. Right, Drew?

"Sorry to put you on the spot, but hey. You abandoned my ship, so fair game."

There was a larger shimmer of laughter.

"Can we get Mr. Crayton's mugshot on the screen?"

The phenomenally outstanding A/V Media crew needed mere moments to find his bio on the EMR website. His photo was enlarged to forty feet across on the screen.

"So, there's Andrew," I said. "Oh, sorry! Everyone can sit back down and lower their hands. I'm sure your arms are numb by now."

That drew even more laughter from the crowd.

"Alright. Who knows this guy but does

not

know either myself or Mrs. Sargasso?"

Dozens more hands were raised.

"See how that works? I am connected to each of the folks who just raised a hand through one person, Drew Crayton, and those same folks are connected to Mrs. Sargasso via two. The world of business networking melds us all into a community. It's a world in which we're

all

a lot closer than we think we are."

I spent the next twenty-five minutes delivering my opening keynote, tying up the meaning behind the demonstration in how strong professional networks can become, then how they can add value to leadership positions. My final fifteen minutes were spent outlining the agenda for the week including the breakout sessions and focus meetings. I then briefly announced each of the five dozen panelists who would lead them. I might have spent a little more than a few seconds describing one particular individual.

Not all the panelists were in attendance at the opening keynote, particularly the woman of my desire.

At the end of the day, I milled about with the crowds at the various booths and open bars set up by the conference's sponsors on the main show floor. I interacted with several friends and a few coworkers. The evening was very enjoyable.

Before I went to bed, I folded the opening "letter" along with one green and one red index card then enclosed the items in one of the hotel's envelopes I found in the lap drawer of the desk in my room. I placed it on the desk as a reminder to myself of what needed to be done in the morning.

I FaceTimed my wife at home for about a half hour.

There was nothing for me to do on Tuesday, so I worked from my room.

On Wednesday, I awakened about ten minutes before the alarm on my phone sounded. I seldom oversleep, but I always set an alert as a backup, just in case. I showered, shaved, and dressed before room service delivered my breakfast.

I knew I needed to be out of my door and at the Teal conference room in order to deliver "the envelope" before the panelists arrived for their session.

I found my target's name tent right where it was expected, in the center of seven seats. I placed the envelope inside her folder. Just seeing her name in bold print on both the folder and the tent gave me a thrill and heightened my expectations.

I returned to my room and watched the clock while I worked remotely. I waited until the appointed time, which was about five minutes before that particular panel discussion was to end. I navigated a longer path to the room and watched people as they began to filter out the doors. As soon as I saw her walking the other direction, I ducked into the room only briefly to scan the name tents.

My heart skipped a beat when I saw it. I saw a green card under hers. I was perplexed by an omen, though. A corner of a red card had been torn off. The green card had a dime-sized bit of the red card sitting atop it.

I took it as a message.

Yeah, I'm curious, but be careful.

I prepared another envelope. Into it I put replacement cards and the note which read:

There is a particular business suit you first started wearing about four, maybe five years ago. I am hoping you still have it and brought it with you. It is a charcoal color with gray pinstripes. It looks fantastic on you.

If it's with you, please fold the green card and stand it up like a name tent. If you don't have it, tear the green card in half. Again, if you wish to stop this interaction, display the red card.

I waited until lunch was being served in the cavernous dining hall to revisit the conference room. I secreted the envelope in her folder.

An hour later, it was break time again, so I went to check the results. I was only a touch saddened to see the card was torn in half, but, at least, it was the green card, not the red, nor any hint of the red card atop the green. I wasn't particularly surprised by the torn card, and I already had a backup plan.

I finally met Becca Samuels face to face. After a half-hour of entertaining banter and chit-chat, I gave her an envelope and asked her to have it delivered directly to my "prey" during the combined group-focus in the Sunset room that afternoon. The venue seated close to six hundred attendees, and the woman of my desire was one of the five panelists on the dais.

I stayed in the shadows as I entered. I stood in a dark corner listening to the various panelists answer questions. My heart quickened each time my favored was asked a question and quickened even more hearing her beautiful voice deliver splendidly perfect answers. The woman was smart. No, she wasn't just smart, she was brilliant. Her acumen, tact, and diplomatic skill were unmatched by anyone I knew. I loved her. I adored her from hundreds of feet away.

I watched as a conference center staff member (so designated with bold print on the jacket she wore) delivered her the envelope I'd given Ms. Samuels.

I watched her open it while the person sitting next to her answered a complex question. I watched her remove the note and read it. I watched her eyes go wide when she withdrew a credit card from the envelope then quickly replace it.

The note I'd written said:

That's too bad. You can make it up to me.

Also enclosed, please find a Visa gift card. It is pre-loaded with $1000.00. This discussion ends at 4:00pm. Macy's doesn't close until 10:00pm. I would love it if you would go shopping and buy something as becoming as the suit I inquired about. I would appreciate it very much if you would wear it tomorrow. You can use the remaining balance to buy whatever you like. Buy more of the lovely perfume you wear. Buy something for your spouse. I don't mind. Buy something nice for your child. It doesn't matter to me as long as I get to see what I want. It's a small offering to the woman I seek from afar.

I saw her gaze shift to the crowd. She was scanning her surroundings. I knew she had read the next few sentences.

I'm sitting in the room. I'm watching you.

If you agree, simply take the green card from the envelope, and put it on the table in front of you. As before, if you want to stop, do the same for the red one instead. I'm close enough to you that I'll see either decision.

I so completely hope you only remove the green card, my secret love.

I counted exactly twelve seconds before I saw her remove the green card and place it on the table. Her agreement aroused me.

I didn't call my wife that night.

When I saw the woman I wanted at the next morning's event, my jaw dropped. She had outdone herself. She looked so completely and totally professional, just as she always did. But any male with functioning testicles would have at least looked at her beauty appreciatively.

The woman was phenomenally gorgeous, in a tiny frame, a little more than five feet tall, wearing a beautiful dark blue pin-striped suit which fit her perfect figure to a tee. It was difficult to look at that woman and believe she was the mother of a child.

She was athletic, obviously. Her firm little butt was perfectly shaped and was highlighted by the snug fit of her pants. Its shape was contoured by pinstripes. The subtle mounds of her breasts, small but perfect, were mostly hidden by her silk blouse and matching suit coat.

A slender waist and perfect hips topped subtly muscular thighs. The woman was quite the perfect specimen in very beautiful, sexy wrapping.

I stealthily approached her from behind as she walked down the corridor after the event, chatting amiably with several of her fellow panelists. I very discreetly shot several photos of her pretty little bottom by palming my silenced cellphone. When I returned to my room and examined them closely (for research, of course), I could see the faintest lines of her panties telegraphing through the fabric.

Damn! I wanted so very much to bury my face in the groove of her bottom and feel her heat.

I knew my next ask would be very, very risky. For one, none of my prewritten notes were adequate to the task, so I had to go to the business center (which, during the middle of the day, was predictably busy) to write and print a new one without anyone being wise to my lechery.

The next note I delivered, along with replacement cards, to her folder during the lunch hour. I was discovered by a participant who returned from lunch much earlier than I'd expected. Luckily, it was no one I knew, but of course, he'd likely be someone who knew who I was from the opening keynote. He seemed uninterested in my actions. I played it off as if I was doing something completely ordinary.

Had he read the note, though, unfortunate things might have happened. What he would have read if he happened to be a nosy snoop was:

I have to have you. You look so perfect in that beautiful suit. Thank you for accepting my gift and giving me the gift of seeing you in it. You have the most phenomenal form of any woman I've ever laid eyes on.

With your permission, of course, I'd like to engage another one of my senses. I've seen your beauty with my eyes. I'm very, very anxious (and very desirous) to enjoy your scent. Yes, I followed you in the hallway earlier this morning and could smell the very alluring fragrance of your perfume in the air you passed through. That is how keen my senses are when I am near you. They become heightened.

I want more. I need more. I don't want more of the scent you apply from a bottle. I crave the scent of your body.

I want something that's very close to you. I have seen your schedule and know you're dining with several associates later this evening. I will be nearby. I would love to see you go to the ladies' room after dinner and know that, when you come out, you're no longer wearing those tiny panties under those sexy snug slacks.