Chapter 10: Camping Trip

After a short run and a light breakfast in the hotel room, I got ready for work and arrived at the office early. I told Eric that we would only tour buildings until noontime and then I needed to spend some time in the office. Since this was a travel day, I wanted to complete my reports and have plenty of time to catch my flight home.

We toured two buildings and I suggested that we take a coffee break. He was passionate about his work and I enjoyed hearing him talk. We found a booth at the rear of a quiet café and talked for two hours. In addition to learning about his duties as a property manager, I picked up some personal information. He came to the Boston office right out of school, five years before, married a year later and he and his wife had one child.

"What do you like to do in your leisure time?" I asked.

Eric laughed. "Janice has skied since she was a child. Her family owns a ski lodge in northern New Hampshire. I'd never skied, but when I had an opportunity to spend a weekend with her at the ski lodge, I jumped at it. Unfortunately, I had to ski."

I laughed too. "I've never tried it, but my girlfriend is trying to talk me into ... correction, my girlfriend says we're going skiing next winter."

"She sounds like the kind of girl that gets what she wants," he said.

"I've never been camping either, but guess what she has planned for this weekend."

"You'll love it," he said.

I changed the subject back to business. "Do you have any problems doing your job? What would you change if it were up to you?" I asked, knowing that I was opening the door for a shit load of bitching.

Eric gave me a critical look and I almost knew what he was thinking, 'can I trust this guy?' "When I have a question that the boss can't answer, he tells me to call corporate. Most of the time I get right through, but sometimes when I leave a voice mail message, it takes days for someone to get back to me."

I scratched my head and saw that Eric was looking nervous, like he'd said something he'd regret later. "Is it anyone in particular not getting back to you?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I'm not naming names," he said.

"Can you give me a hint?"

He paused for several seconds before responding. "I get prompt answers from legal, accounting and engineering," he said and I could tell that was all he was going to say.

"Have you tried sending an email?" I asked and watched him smile.

"My experience with email has been the same as voicemail," he said.

The café was beginning to fill up with people having lunch, so we went back to the office and ordered a sandwich from the cafeteria in the building. I thanked Eric for helping me understand the Boston market and issues from his prospective.

While consuming my sandwich, I transferred the notes I'd taken into an email message to Wanda, with a copy to myself. And then I called her on the phone and we discussed my presentation on trends in the Boston real estate market.

"Thanks for getting that creep off my tail, Sammy. What did you do to him?" Wanda asked as we were ending the call.

"I offered to have dinner with him in Baltimore. He didn't call you, did he?"

"He wrote a lovely apology," she said, sounding pleased.

"What are you wearing today?"

"I hate you Sammy. Everyone says I look cute in the girl's school uniform you made me buy."

"Ah, the white shirt with black tie and powder blue skirt. Are you wearing the white knee socks with the patent leather shoes?"

"The shoes are the only part of the outfit that I like. They're black. I thought you were shooting for professional, not cute?"

I laughed and we said goodbye.

Before leaving to catch my flight, I wrote a scathing email message to Suzanne, describing what I perceived as a problem with one of her reports. I signed the message, 'Troubleshooter' and hit send.

Mark Stone, the office manager, came out of his office to say goodbye. I thanked him for the hospitality he and his staff had shown me. He said it had been a pleasure. I decided to hit him head-on with the question of the hour.

"Are you getting the kind of support from corporate that you think you deserve?"

Mark was in his early forties, had twenty years of experience and had a lot to lose if he guessed wrong about me. I could see the dilemma he was in; to talk and be ostracized by his peers or not to talk to the boss's son and draw ire from my dad. I let him off the hook.

"Just describe your job as you see it, Mark," I said as I eased into the seat where I'd been working. Mark relaxed and began talking about the duties of a field office manager. At times, he paced the floor and at other times he stopped, leaned over the table and searched my eyes to make sure I understood what he was telling me. He was cautious, but at times he dropped his guard and I could read between the lines; not all was well in what he referred to as the front lines.

I didn't press him for facts and I believe he appreciated my leniency. I thanked him again and we shook hands.

As an afterthought, I asked where I could pick up some lobsters on the way to the airport. He consulted the only member of his sales staff and she gave me directions to two places that were on the way to the airport.

The market where I stopped was very helpful. They packaged four lobsters for me to take on the plane, complete with cooking instructions and an eight-hundred number in case I wanted to call in an order in the future. Thinking that Mr. Oldham and Suzanne would enjoy a lobster dinner, I had four lobsters shipped home and as an afterthought, I ordered four more to be delivered to my college friends in Somerville.

I picked up two magazines to read on the flight and the time went by without incident.

The first thing I noticed about Kelley was that she'd had her hair cut, so short that she looked like a boy. Well, not really. There were the two protrusions on her chest that definitely defined her gender.

She had acquired an out-back look, dressed in a Crocodile Dundee hat, denim shirt, tucked into short pants, hiking boots and woolen socks that ended just below her knees.

"I'm breaking in my new boots," she said after I released her from our welcoming kiss.

"Is that what you're going to wear camping?"

"Don't laugh until you see what I got for you to wear," she said.

When we got to my car I noticed that it was spotless, both inside and out. "You've been busy," I said as I tossed my luggage in the trunk.

"Aren't you going to say anything about my hair? I know I should have asked you first, but I wanted it short for easy care while we're roughing it."

"I love your hair," I tried to assure her, without pointing out that we were only going to be living in a tent for two days. "How did you make out with the tent?"

"Wait until you see it, honey. It's their best model. Marcie gave me a special price. She's a super person, but I suppose you know that."

"Did she talk about Adam Corning?"

"She talked about him constantly. We talked about you, too. Why don't you like Adam?"

"I like him," I said and knew from the way Kelley looked at me that Marcie had put a different spin on my friendship with Adam Corning.

We drove to the Harvey home and Kelley gave me very specific instructions as to where to park my car. "The neighbors have been seeing me drive it. I want them to believe it's my car. That way, they won't notice when you stay over."

"Right," I said, having learned not to question her logic. We took the box of lobsters into the kitchen and then we went to the garage where she showed me the camping paraphernalia she'd collected. In addition to the tent, there were air mattresses, sleeping bags, a lantern and special flashlights, a first aid kit, and enough freeze-dried food for a week.

"Doug has a stove and cooking utensils. He's bringing fishing gear for you to use, too."

She insisted that I bring my luggage inside and when I objected, she pointed out that I would need my shaving gear. I told her that I didn't intend to shave for the next two days.

"You'll need your toothbrush," she said and I yielded to her superior reasoning. Five minutes later, I found myself in her room, trying on camping clothes while Kelley unpacked my luggage. I complimented her on how well everything she'd bought for me fit.

"I checked your measurements when I picked up the casual clothes for you to wear to work tomorrow," she said, hanging the only suit I'd taken on my trip in her closet. There was a pile of my dirty clothes on the floor and I objected when she said she would take them downstairs to be laundered. She walked out the door without listening to my argument; the maid would be cooking lobsters for our dinner and now she was being asked to accept the extra work of washing my clothes.

I was on the phone, reporting in at home when Kelley returned to the room. "I spoke to John about your message, Sammy. He wants you to limit your presentation to fifteen minutes and use the rest of your time briefing us on your suspicions regarding communication breakdown. If the culprit is in attendance, we'll flush him or her out," Suzanne said.

Kelley must have known that I was talking to Suzanne. I was digesting what Suzanne had told me when Kelley spoke.

"How many do you think we should take?" she asked, holding up a package of condoms for me to see.

"We're only going to be out there two nights, Kelly," I said.

"What's that about?" Suzanne asked.

"Kelley's taken over supplying the condoms. She's just trying to shock you, Suz."

"Nothing that girl says shocks me. Make sure she buys good quality," Suzanne said a hint of glee in her voice.

I told her to expect the lobsters to arrive the next day before ending the call. It was nearing seven P.M. so we went downstairs to enjoy the lobsters, wearing our new camping clothes. There was corn on the cob and iced tea to go with the lobsters.

Mr. Harvey asked about my most recent trip and I told him that I was seeing a slow down in our segment of the real estate market. He told Kelley to listen to me and she said she would. "Will it be all right if I come to your presentation tomorrow?" she asked, using her sexy voice that I found impossible to say no to.

After dinner, we hung around the minimum required time before retiring to Kelley's room. I'd read an article on the plane about how to give a foot massage and wanted to try out the technique.

"Get on your back," I said in a commanding voice that made Kelley give me a look of surprise. She recovered quickly and asked if she should remove her clothes. I told her to leave her panties on. "I don't want to be distracted," I explained.

"This sounds erotic," she said as she stripped down to her panties and got into position on her back.

She watched closely as I stripped down to my jockey shorts and took my place at the foot of the bed, kneeling on my knees. I knew from past experience that she was ticklish, so I carefully rubbed her left foot to warm it up.

Kelley's feet were long and narrow. Her toenails were manicured, with clear polish covering them. She closed her eyes, refusing to let the attention I was giving her feet tickle her.

After warming her left feet, I used my thumb to rub the sides and bottom of her foot from heel to toe.

Her eyes were still closed and there was a contented look on her face when I began the same process with her right foot. Next, I gripped each toe lightly and rotated it. Kelley opened her eyes, watched me for a few seconds and closed them. She looked sleepy and so I cut the massage short, kneading the bottom of her feet with my knuckles for only a few seconds before lowering her feet and getting off the bed. She smacked her lips and rolled to her side and fell asleep. I covered her with a blanket and watched her sleep.

I put the short, camping pants on and went downstairs, resolving to withhold future foot massages until after we'd made love. I found Mr. and Mrs. Harvey in the den. He was on the telephone. She was reading a magazine and looked up, surprised, when she saw me. I knew an explanation was in order.

"I gave Kelley a foot massage and put her to sleep," I said in a whisper so as not to interfere with Mr. Harvey's telephone conversation.

"She was so concerned about what you would say about her hair that she's not been sleeping well, Sammy. I've never seen her take another person's opinion to heart the way she reacts to your every word."

I didn't believe this for a second. Kelley acted on her own, doing as she pleased. When had she ever asked my opinion about anything? "I told her that I like it cut short," I said, still whispering.

"She can be selfish sometimes, but she means well. I hope you don't feel that you're being forced to go camping."

Hell yes, I felt forced. But she'd gone along with the plans I'd made for the previous weekend. What could I do? "It should be fun," I said.

Mr. Harvey ended his phone call and wanted to resume the conversation regarding the real estate market that I'd started at dinner. I felt a little uncomfortable being alone with Kelley's parents, especially since my feet and chest were bare. I sat down and told him what Wanda and I were attempting to do. I gave her most of the credit, adding that she had turned me on to the idea and that I was simply doing the leg work to identify trends.

"I would like for you to come to our company and look around, Sammy. I'd be interested in your impressions."

Did he know that I was nearly two years younger than his daughter? I told him I'd stop by his company sometime and excused myself, saying that Kelley might wake up and wonder where I'd disappeared to. As I left the room I heard Mrs. Harvey tell her husband about the foot massage I'd given Kelley.

She was sleeping soundly when I got back to the room. It was still early, but I took off the short pants and got under the cover with her. I guess I was tired, too, because the sun was streaming through the window when I awoke. I felt Kelley's breasts against my back and her hand on my chest. She woke up the second I made a move to get out of bed.

"Good morning, sweetheart," she said, stretching her arms and making the blanket drop to reveal her breasts. She looked at the blanket and then at me. "You covered me," she said, surprise in her voice.

"I love your hair. It must be easy to dry when you get out of the pool," I said, anxious to take a leak.

"I love the way that pole is making your shorts stick out," she said, getting out of bed and following me into the bathroom.

"It's a piss hard-on," I said as I stood over the toilet and aimed the stream of urine at the bowl.

"Oh," she said, sounding disappointed as she watched me.

I finished pissing and was turning the water on in the shower when she lowered the toilet seat and sat down to pee. Two minutes later she joined me in the shower.

"Too bad you didn't think to bring a condom in here," she said, reaching up to put shampoo on my head.

"Condoms are your responsibility," I said, taking the shampoo bottle from her and dumping a liberal amount on her head.

"Where did you learn to do that to my feet? It put me right to sleep," she said.

"I read an article on the plane yesterday."

"I'm sorry about last night," she said, looking into my eyes before turning her back to me. "I'll make it up to you tonight."

I washed her back and then changed the water to cold. She shrieked and we got out of the shower.

"Do you really like my hair?" she asked as we dried.

"Stop asking me if I like your hair. I've told you three times that I like it," I said, checking my beard in the mirror. She came into the bathroom twice while I was shaving, the first time in her panties and the second time she was wearing white pants, cut off midway between her knees and ankles, a tank top, white shoes with one inch heels and her makeup applied. Both times, as far as I could tell, were to grin at me in the mirror and pat my ass. When I went into the bedroom I found that she was gone and my casual clothes she'd selected for me to wear that day were on the bed.

Downstairs, I found her wearing a matching jacket. Four white buttons stretched the jacket tight across her chest and with the absence of a bra and her short hair; Kelley could have passed for a young boy. Like the pants, the jacket was made of soft cotton and the sleeves were three-quarter length.

After breakfast, we packed my car with the camping gear and Kelley dropped me off at the office. I promised to call her as soon as I found out what time my presentation was scheduled for.

"Don't forget what I said about tonight," she said as we kissed goodbye.

Wanda was wearing a dark blue dress with white trim at the neck and cuffs. "You project professionalism," I complimented her as we started to go over the graphs and charts she'd created for my presentation. Sadly, we had to select the right number to fit into the fifteen minutes I was allotted.

"What do you need to illustrate the communication problem?" she asked.

"Give me an organization chart," I answered.

"That's all?" Wanda asked.

"I'm going leave the chart on the screen and refer to it often," I said.

While Wanda was organizing my presentation I read the apology from the Baltimore Office Manager, Jerry Bastian. It was just what I expected, flowery and too long. In addition to expressing appreciation for her work, the message mentioned my name more often than was necessary.

I was making notes when Sharon popped in to tell me my presentation was scheduled for two P.M. I thanked her and saw that she was lingering, like she had more to say.

"I've enjoyed working for you these two weeks, Mr. Oldham," she said, timidly.

It was news to me that she'd worked for me. "Is Stacy's vacation coming to an end?"

"She's coming back on Monday and I'll go back to Administration," she said.

"You must work for Simon Barker?" I asked and she nodded, indifferently.

She smiled and waved goodbye. I smiled back, wondering what that was about.

I called Kelley and told her to come at two. "We can leave at two-thirty," I said.

She reminded me that we needed to pick up my boots and we said goodbye.

I walked over to Wanda's office and asked to see what Jerry Bastian wanted her to do.

"This is so inconvenient, Sammy. Our offices should be next to one another," she said.

"I'm only here half the time, Wanda. Anyway, I'll be going back to school soon."

She'd assembled my presentation and was already working on Jerry Bastian's project. I looked over her shoulder and discovered that she was preparing graphs that illustrated the Baltimore market. Jerry was attempting to show that his building was competitive with competition, not by price, but by location and amenities. The proposal he was making was for forty thousand square feet and the prospective lessee was a blue chip company.

I called Jerry on the phone. At first, he was cold and unreceptive, but when I told him I was looking at his competitive analysis and could see that he had an uphill battle ahead of him he warmed up.

"You work for Mr. Shepard, right?" I asked. Ralph Shepard was the Vice President of Sales. Everyone knew that all ten field office managers reported to sales.

"Right," he said in a bored voice, like he wondered how much longer he would have to endure my elementary questions.

"Have you approached him about giving you some wiggle room in the negotiation?" I asked.

"I gave him the numbers you're looking at," he said, letting his voice drop to an unenergetic low.

"Do you mind if I show this graph to my dad and a few of the executives?" I asked him and had to wait while he thought my request over. I'm sure he knew he had no choice in the matter. I had the graph in my hand and would do whatever I wanted with it. But it was his research that had made the graph possible and I'm sure he felt the pride of ownership.

"Do what you want with it. Wanda's been keeping the data updated. It's as much her work as it is mine."

"Thanks, Jerry. I'll credit both of you," I said.

I would have liked to have questioned him about his duties, but I told him that I knew he had pressing matters that needed his attention and let him go about his work.

Maybe Wanda was right about our offices being too far apart, I thought as I went back to her office. "Make another copy of this and add Jerry and your names at the bottom," I told her and left before she had a chance point out that the location of our offices was affecting our productivity.

Suzanne was waiting for me when I got back to my office. "You're gaining the reputation of a rogue elephant, Sammy," she said, waving the memo I'd sent her the day before.

"Why am I being kept in the dark about John Oldham's ailment?" I asked in a 'who-gives-a-shit-about my reputation' tone that produced the reaction that I was looking for. Suzanne understood that I was feeling the weight of responsibility and wanted to know why it was being trust upon me...

"We don't know for sure, but there are signs that he's in the early stages of Parkinson's disease," she said, her eyes glistening with moisture.

I closed the door behind me and took her into my arms. Suzanne wilted and I had to support her until she stabilized her feet. "If I'm wrong about this I'll take the heat," I said.

"You're not wrong, honey. John's curtailed his travel over the last year. That's why we're sending you out as the troubleshooter. We didn't expect you to take hold of the reins this soon."