Chapter 2 - The Gallant Reaction

My life has been in a bit of a rut lately, if lately can be construed to mean three years. I travel, work, eat, sleep. Those are the four basic components of my life. I know that there should be more than that, but I made my bed, so to speak, and must sleep in it.

My name is Deirdre Martin and I'm a management consultant. I am brought into corporations to determine how to make those corporations more efficient, more profitable. Part of that means that I sometimes (well more than sometimes) have to tell my clients how to consolidate functions in order to improve service. That's a euphemistic way of saying I tell them who to fire. It's not a pleasant part of my job, and it doesn't make me very popular with the people I work with. They may be the very ones who are going to be downsized when I'm through, so how can I blame them?

In a consulting business, its people are its product, its inventory. I put that badly. Once a consulting firm has its people fully engaged with their clients, they have nothing else to sell. It can expand its business in two ways. A) Either hire more consultants (and we cost a bundle) or B) make the consultants they have work longer hours. Every consulting firm I know always chooses B) first.

I'm not complaining. I knew this going in. I knew that I could expect long hours on the job followed by boring interludes in antiseptic motels rooms. I knew that I could expect loneliness. I knew that I didn't have time for relationships. I had enough failed relationships in the past to be a little glad that this was one thing I wasn't going to have to deal with any longer.

I was raised in Georgia. I was raised close enough to Savannah that if people ask, that's where I tell them I'm from. But it was really a small town that wasn't thought of as a suburb until urban sprawl made it so. When I lived there, Savannah was the big city you went to once a month. So, I'm from Savannah.

Akron Wire and Cable was just another small company that needed rescuing. My company, BRMC, was engaged to bring this antiquated little company into the twenty-first century. It was going to be a big task. Heads were going to roll, no doubt about it. Several BRMC consultants were to spend a great deal of time and effort to tell this little company how to save itself. I wasn't sure it could save itself, given the current conditions, but we had to try.

My primary contact at AWC was to be a systems analyst who I was told was the youngest department head in the company. He was an up and comer who I was assured would be the ideal person to learn not only what was wrong, but what the more progressive thinkers at AWC had in mind for the future. We talked on the phone, this Andrew Adkins and me. We teleconferenced, we emailed, we faxed; all in preparation for my spending time at the AWC office in Cleveland.

I was sitting in the conference room in the process control division when he walked in. He was running a little late and he babbled something about the traffic, but I didn't pay any attention. I couldn't seem to hear what he was saying. He was just so beautiful.

He was young and tall, but not overly tall, perhaps 5'11" to six feet. He was slim and trim. I could see he was in excellent shape. I later learned he had been on his college tennis team and still played competitively. His face was soft and hard at the same time. You could tell by looking at that face that it smiled a lot. It was a sweet lovely face.

He had those deep brown eyes that were so piercing. I saw him and smiled and then those eyes! They seemed to be forcing their way into my soul. I reached to shake his hand in welcome. The touch was electric. I felt tingly all over my body. I had to sit down but he didn't seem to want to give me my hand back. I couldn't pull away. Finally my knees gave out and I melted into my chair, my hand slipping from his grip. I had to pull myself together!

Then I saw it. It was the gallant reaction. That's what we girls used to call it in high school if a boy's or teacher's pants suddenly tented. They were having the gallant reaction.

Andrew had the gallant reaction to me! I didn't understand it. After all, I'm quite a bit older than he is, ten years if you must know. I thought that perhaps this was some young Lothario who was attracted to every woman he was in contact with regardless of age or looks. I bet his dance card is full, looking like he does, acting like he does, reacting like he does. The women must be all over him.

The gallant reaction couldn't be for me. It's his reaction to every woman, I'm sure. I calmed down a little and went straight to business. After all, that's what we were here for. We weren't here for me to have these ridiculous fantasies about this beautiful young man.

We worked all day, and we accomplished a lot, but there was this tension. I felt it at every turn. Andrew was tense. He seemed to be nervous. I had talked to him on the phone many times. He was always warm, sometimes flirtatious, but never tense and nervous. I thought that perhaps he had a personal problem that was interfering with his concentration.

I am less qualified than many other women to comment on the state of a man's erection, since my experience with men is somewhat limited. Work has always been my number one priority. I've seen several men hard for short periods of time - way too short for my liking if you know what I mean (I'm a fan of "Whose Line is it Anyway.")

But Andrew was hard from nine in the morning till five in the afternoon. I know because I checked; often. I was starting to wonder if perhaps he was wearing something in his pants. I just didn't notice at the beginning of the day what he looked like down there. It was only after our hands touched that I sneaked a peek at his midsection. He was hard. He remained hard. I don't know how I got any work done. All I could think about was his erection.

Tuesday I arrived a bit early and went into the lady's lounge to freshen up. I came into the main office area and saw Andrew was sitting at a table with his back to me talking with several people. It was apparently the kind of pre-work talk session where company bonding took place.

As I approached the small group I saw a truly beautiful young girl stroll up to the group from the other side. She sat next to Andrew, her breasts leaning into his arm, smiling and touching him in the way of young girls who are trying to elicit a response from an eligible young man. Andrew appeared to be oblivious to the machinations of the young minx, but I knew what she was up to. I was shocked to find jealousy creeping in to my emotions.

When I reached the group and said hello, Andrew's eyes turned from the beautiful young thing throwing herself at him. His eyes focused on mine and never wavered. I had glanced at his crotch as I walked up to the group. Nothing was showing. I assumed that Monday must have been an aberration. But he saw me. He smiled at me. The front of his pants flew in my direction.

I was dizzy. My god, he wanted ME! He was hard for ME! I excused myself to go into the conference room. I had to calm down. But Andrew followed right after me. I didn't have a chance. I couldn't calm down. I had trouble looking him in the eye.

We spent the day together working. He was hard the entire time. He seemed ill at ease, but was always a complete gentleman. I felt like his eyes were burning a hole in my body, but he never made a comment or insinuation that I could assume was in any way sexual. I was a mess.

Many men have propositioned me over the years. They tried to get into my pants. Occasionally they succeeded. But this boy never propositioned me. He was always polite and respectful.

But every minute I was with him, his body told me "I want to fuck you". That's distracting. He wanted to fuck ME!! I'm the girl who hasn't been laid in three years. I haven't had a committed relationship in my entire life. I never even went steady in high school. This beautiful, intelligent, gentle, passionate, passionate boy wanted to fuck ME! It was too confusing, too overwhelming to contemplate. Before long I realized it. I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted him to fuck me like I've never wanted anything in my life.

I was a bundle of nerves. I could hardly concentrate on our work. I tried the 'personal relief' method of sexual fulfillment on Monday night. It hardly made a dent in my arousal. I tried it Tuesday night, too. I just had to do something. My body was on fire.

Wednesday morning was only worse. I walked in a little late. Andrew was in the conference room waiting for me. I reached out to shake his hand again, a business formality that is usually forgone after a day or two of meetings. But I wanted to touch him again. He stood and took my hand. Again his hand felt like fire. Again I saw the gallant reaction. It sprang up like it was shot from a gun.

This boy found me irresistible I think. How could that be? He could have his choice of any woman in this company, I'm sure. He's the youngest executive in the entire company. He's smart, sexy, beautiful. Every girl here must dream of being the one he chooses. Why would he choose me? I just didn't get it.

By Wednesday I was wondering if we would ever get anything done. I was wondering if Andrew was ever going to make a pass at me. I was wondering if I should be on this project at all. I had lunch with Bob Simon, another consultant from BRMC.

I broached the possibility of changing business partners. He wasn't very receptive. I told him that Andrew and I were experiencing some 'compatibility problems'. He suggested we work things out. If no solution was possible, he would reluctantly change partners. But he felt we should be able to resolve the problem ourselves.

I knew he was right, of course. But I knew of only one way to resolve our problems, Andrew and I. And that way wasn't exactly a professional solution, was it? It was to a point where sticking to my principles about non-involvement with clients might be hurting the project rather than helping it. I had to keep telling myself that, because otherwise, how else would I work up the courage to proposition Andrew? It looked like he had no intention of propositioning me.