I had just returned to the office from my workout I usually did on my Friday lunch hour, when I was called and told to report to Mr. Kohn's office up on the Penthouse floor.
My heart hammered in my chest, and I had a cold knot in my stomach. This couldn't be good news. It was Friday, the company had been laying off staff, and I was older. I hadn't even seen Mr. Kohn in over a year, had never had any business contact with him, and now his executive secretary Phyllis was on the phone telling me he wanted to see me ASAP. She also told me that my direct supervisor Joe had not been told Mr. Kohn wanted to see me, and she had pointedly suggested that I not say anything to him either.
I grabbed my suit jacket and headed to the men's room to make sure I looked as presentable as possible.
Looking in the mirror, I sighed, feeling the fear of having to look for another job already. Although I though I was in pretty good shape for being over 50, my hair was thinning, I was over weight despite my best efforts at the gym 4 days a week, and my summer tan had faded over the winter. I didn't rate my chances of finding another job very high. I ran a wet comb through my hair, buttoned my collar, straighten my tie, made sure my jacked collar was down, and that I didn't have any lint on my jacket.
As I waited for the elevator I tried to recall what I knew of Mr. Kohn. I had only seen him on a half a dozen occasions, and when I had seen him, it was always at a distance. The last time I'd seen him was at a garden party held last summer in the pool area of his estate, and then I'd though was that he was a good 10 years younger and in better shape than I was.
All the younger and thinner company employees had been playing in the pool, but I'd abstained from entering the water, opting instead for sitting in the shade, keeping my shirt on and chatting with the other older employees sitting under the pool side umbrellas while enjoying the erotic view of the various bikinis and Speedos. Mr. Kohn of course, being young, in shape and tanned, had joined in the fun in the pool.
A few weeks after the party I learned, Jack, one of the local production managers I knew pretty well, who had also been at the party, had been transferred to quality control and then sent to the plant in Mississippi. I'd heard rumors that he had been invited to stay the night after the party, but had refused. I had been curious, and had done a little snooping, starting with a few phone calls and I'd found out the rumor was true. I was surprised Jack had been invited because Jack was a couple years older and even heavier than I was, and had always struck me as straight. What I didn't know, or find out in all my snooping, was whether Jack was bisexual.
What Jack told me directly was that he thought Mr. Kohn was gay, but didn't have any proof to substantiate his opinion, because Mr. Kohn himself had not made the invitation or said even a word to Jack at the party. The invitation to "hang around and have a drink" had come from Mr. Kohn's butler, and because Jack had had a few drinks, he had not recognized the invitation it for what it was. Later after he'd been reassigned to Mississippi, he guessed his refusal was the reason, but he told me that even if he had know what it really was he would not have accepted.
When I walked into the Penthouse Executive Office, Phyllis was just putting the phone down, and she watched me walk all the way across the large office to her desk. I knew her fairly well. We had gone to the same high school, and started at the company together many years before. Even then she had had the good sense to attach her self to Mr. Kohn's office staff, and had eventually become his private secretary. Now she supervised his office staff and knew every thing that there was to know of any importance.
She gave me a friendly smile, "Hi Tom, go on in, he's waiting for you."
"Wanna give me a hint of what this is about?" I asked, hoping she would give me a hint of want to expect.
"If I knew I would," she said with a straight face, "But he didn't bother to tell me."
Despite her words, her expression said she knew what was up, but it wasn't trouble and she didn't need to warn me. I hoped my interpretation of her expression was correct. I needed this job. Without it I'd have to decide whether to pay my mortgage or car payment.
I approached his closed office door and knocked. I heard the click as the electronic lock released, pushed the door open and went in.
He was standing by a small round conference table set in the corner where the floor to ceiling windows met, without his jacket with his shirt sleeves rolled up. He was a little heavier than I remembered him, but judging from the muscular size of his arms he was still in good shape, and he still had the dark tan I'd envied the last time I'd seen him.
"Hello Tom. It's been awhile since I've seen you," he said moving toward me extending his hand.
I shook his hand and was surprised that he didn't try to crush my hand like so many of the other company brass did before meetings to impress me with how macho they were. His was just a light squeeze of my hand and a brief shake.
"I think the last time was at your pool party a couple of years ago." I said, and waited for him to direct the conversation.
"Well I didn't forget you," he said. "Have a seat," as he gestured to the chair nearest to the one he sat in.
I sat down, and noticed that he sat with his legs crossed at his knees, allowing his crossed foot to hang down almost to his other foot. It was evidence of his slender thighs, and I was jealous. I had never been able to do that since my thighs were so thick. I sat without crossing my legs, my feet flat on the floor, and my hands in my lap fidgeting with a fountain pen I always took to meetings to use as a substitute for worry beads and keep my hands occupied.
He got straight to the business, "I wanted to talk to you about a tough decision I have to make. First, I have some information about some of your activities that I think may compromise company security. Second, I have to cut some people out of your department and Joe has suggested that one of them be you. So I thought I'd talk to you and see if you could convince me you're not a security risk and that I should keep you."
When he mentioned "activities and possible security risk," a cold chill ran down my spine. I had several skeletons that I thought were well hidden in the closet, the least of which was that I was a very active bisexual. That Joe wanted to get rid of me was no surprise since he was a rabid homophobe and had always suspected I was a little different. I wondered if Joe had finally discovered my secret.
The chair I sat in directly faced the window and the setting sun, and left his face in shadow, so he had the advantage of me not being able to see his face, but he was able to see my every expression very clearly.
