Arriving at the Regency Building, just off I-69, on the northeast side of Indianapolis, I checked my watch before exiting the car.
"7:20, same as yesterday." I thought to myself. "I can't believe how regimented my life has become."
Grabbing my purse and tan leather attaché, I strode briskly towards the front of the four-story building. Constructed of poured white concrete and dark tinted glass, it seemed like I spent more time at work than I did at home.
"I've got to get out of this rut." I thought, pulling one of the huge glass doors open. "Life is going to pass me by and I won't have a thing to show for it but a big bank account."
"Woohoo!" Exclaimed our receptionist, Evelyn Saunders, when she saw me approaching.
The stocky black woman had been Regency Investment Group's receptionist for almost twenty-five years, rarely missing a day of work. Evelyn was my one bright ray of sunshine that I looked forward to each morning.
"Did that skirt come with a warning label? She jested with a big grin as she donned her headset.
"It's too short, isn't it?" I replied, blushing. "I knew it was too short when I bought it!"
The tan business suit, one of a dozen I owned, did look great on me. I'll have to admit that, even though the skirt was much shorter than what I was used to wearing.
"No! No!" Evelyn responded. "Not with those legs, Hon!"
"If I had legs like yours I'd be showing them off every chance I got." She added. "I bet your husband hated to see you leave home this morning."
"He didn't even notice me." I countered. "He was too busy polishing his damn golf clubs. He's going off on another of his golfing junkets with his buddies this weekend."
"Maybe you oughta take up golfing?" Evelyn suggested. "I bet he'd notice you then."
"Just between you and me, I don't really care if he notices me or not." I confessed, trying my best not to display a frown. "The more we're apart, the better we get along."
"Well, there's more to life than just working all the time." Evelyn stated. "I know you've been working weekends and staying late of an evening."
"I know, I know." I agreed. "That why I'm giving serious consideration to buying a motorcycle."
"YOU! On a motorcycle!" Evelyn exclaimed. "Now that's a sight I've got to see!"
"Well, don't hold your breath." I asserted. "I'm just considering it. I haven't made up my mind just yet."
"You gonna get some tattoos and join a biker gang?" Evelyn kidded.
"Hmmm. I never thought about that." I replied with a laugh. "I just might."
An incoming call interrupted our conversation. Giving Evelyn a wave, I proceeded towards the elevator, heading to my fourth floor, corner office. Our morning conversations were sometimes the highlight of my day. The rest of my workday was usually spent in meetings, monitoring our investments or chatting with our most prestigious investors. It was all business, all damn day long!
Even though I'd just turned thirty-two, I often felt more like fifty-two. At least I still had a good figure, not as great as when I attended college but not far from it. At five foot, seven, my weight was well within proportion. My shoulder-length blonde hair I was considering having cut to a short shag to make it easier to care for and manage. My once bright green eyes seemed to have faded over the past two years along with my vision. I blamed both on way too many hours staring at computer monitors and investment reports. I'd resigned myself to wearing gradient tinted eyeglasses to help relieve the stress on my vision.
Stepping off the elevator, I ran into Frank Bauer, Regency Investment Group's president and CEO. He smiled even though I could immediately tell he didn't quite approve of my business suit. His sturdy figure and grey-black, salt and pepper hair gave him a threatening but distinguished look.
"Got a minute?" He asked, putting his arm around my waist. "There's a couple of things I need to cover with you before I take off for a long weekend."
"Sure Dad." I answered with a smile. "Your office or mine?"
"Let's go to your office." He replied. "The coffee bar's closer to your office."
Stopping at the coffee bar, my father fixed us both a cup of coffee before proceeding on. It was my second cup of the day but certainly wouldn't be my last. I was addicted to caffeine and nicotine, my only two vices. I drank coffee by the pot and smoked cigarettes like they were going out of style. I thought of both of them as substitutes for sex, which I wasn't experiencing nearly enough.
My husband, Gary and I slept in separate bedrooms, which was his idea, not mine. He claimed I bothered him too much toss and turning. I don't think he realized it was because I needed his attention and affection. Sex was something we engaged in every few months or so, usually after he'd been out drinking with his friends or watching porno movies.
Entering my office, I set about booting up the bank of three computers on my L-shaped desk.
"Don't you think that skirt's a bit too short for someone your age?" My father remarked, pointing at the hemline. "Not to mention for someone in your position?"
"Oh...I've still got the legs for short skirts." I responded, trying to brush off the comment. "Beside, you never know when showing them off might influence one of our major investors."
"That's not the way we do business!" My father retorted. "The Regency Investment Group was founded on good, solid investment strategies with integrity and honest business practices. As the vice-president of this firm, you're expected you to uphold those values."
"Cut the sermon Dad!" I interrupted before he could say anything more. "I was only kiddin' for Christ's sake."
We spent the next hour and a half going over some new investments we were considering and discussing financial reports. It was starting off like just another typical day.
Sitting behind my desk, I couldn't help but be occasionally distracted by one of my screensavers. It was one of those Harley-Davidson screensavers from their website. It displayed several of their models even though only a couple struck my interest. My imagination went so far as to allow me to picture myself sitting astride a low-slung, extended fork chopper. Common sense brought me back to reality, knowing a chopper was out of the question.
Settling in with my third cup of coffee of the morning, I scanned the stock and money markets for any changes that needed closer scrutiny. Nothing much out of the ordinary seemed to be happening. With the firm's numerous and large amounts of money invested in commercial real estate, I decided to review the week's report on our holdings. Leaning back in my comfortable, leather chair, I propped my feet up on the desk.
"Kaitlyn, have you got a minute to speak with Trey Morgan?" Heather Gibson inquired, standing in the doorway.
"Yeah. Sure." I responded, looking up from the report.
Heather had been my secretary for just a short time but she seemed to be working out great. Her only bad habit was spending a little too much time primping her hair and make-up, which she did at least a dozen times a day. Heather was drop-dead gorgeous at twenty-one and five foot, nine with coal black hair that fell halfway down her back. She had the figure most women would give up an intense orgasm for. Her breasts were perfect and her legs long and slender. She had the brightest blue eyes I'd ever seen, which captivated your attention.
