Layover
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CHAPTER 24
Race was going over the procedures to switch sections of the line over forshort runs and custom orders with the line engineers in their small conferenceroom when her comm beeped.
"Excuse me." She stepped away from the holo coveringmost of one wall and grabbed the small in-house-channel talker GUP had providedher. "Race Harrington."
"Ms. Harrington, this is Tamika Khafiri, Mr. Smylie'spersonal assistant? Mr. Smylie would like to see you in his office this morningas soon as it's convenient."
Race looked back at the engineers clustered aroundthe instructional schematics. Smylie's office was on the opposite side of thehuge office/industrial complex, it would take her at least ten minutes justto get there.
"Tell him I'll be there in thirty minutes," shesaid into the little blue chit, then clipped it back onto her lapel.
"Yes ma'am."
Smylie greeted her at the door of his spaciousoffice and led her back to his desk. They walked on two inch thick carpet thatfelt more like a mattress under her feet than a floor covering.
"Glad you could take the time to see me today," Smyliewas saying. "I know how busy you are." He indicated she should sit. There wasa loveseat and two chairs arrayed before his desk. She chose a chair
His desk was some sort of polybond synthetic woodwith a burl design, thick and heavy and polished to a glossy finish. He sankcomfortably into a tall-backed faux leather chair behind it and, with his elbowson the armrests of the luxurious chair, tented his fingers under his chin.
"Coffee? Water? Milk? No? Well, I just wanted tosay how impressed we are with the work you've been doing. The changeover isalready way ahead of schedule, which my people find incredible, and they alltell me the same thing. It's because of you."
"Well, thank you Mr. Smylie. But you've got competentpeople, they're the ones actually doing all the work. I'm just giving themdirection."
The entire wall behind the desk was a window lookingout on downtown Garshak. This high up, the only thing she could see from herchair were the tops of nearby officebuildings and the occasional floaters withno altitude restrictions. Corporate delivery services, mostly, hopping fromrooftop to rooftop, and the occasional police vehicle, glinting in the sun.The tint on the windows kept the glare down, but Smylie was still barely morethan a silhouette in the chair.
"Nevertheless, we both know you deserve most ofthe credit." He paused, and regarded her intently for a few seconds. "Outsideof Gupink, how do you like our fair city? Have you had much opportunity tosee the sights?"
For a second Race wondered what exactly he meant,then decided not to read any hidden messages into it.
"Not much," she admitted. "Mostly I go straightfrom here to my hotel, and then right back in the morning."
He nodded and pursed his lips. "Even so, I'm sureyou've experienced a little. . . culture shock. Monsipur's a far cry from NewMantique, we're about on opposite ends of the spectrum."
"That's certainly true," she said with feeling.
"Has it made working here…uncomfortablefor you?" he asked. He was trying to be delicate, and subtle, but he wasn'tvery good at it.
Race decided how best to respond. "While, for me,there's always a shock, visiting a strange planet, I have spent quite a bitof time on worlds other than New Mantique. So the…freeness of your culturewasn't as much of a shock as it might've been were I a strict observer of NewMantique classicalism who'd never been off the planet."
"Does it make you uncomfortable?" he repeated. "I'vebeen to New Mantique, and it was downright repressive. That was years and yearsago, and I know it's gotten worse. No offense meant."
"The Classical Movement, or the move toward whathave been termed Traditional Values, has grown stronger in recent years, yes."
"Are you a proponent of this?"
Race shifted in her chair. "Well, I work in thecorporate world, a traditionally male-dominated environment. This move toward'Traditional Values' where women stay a home, raise children, and don't contradicttheir husbands, has made it more difficult for me."
Smylie nodded again, and sat quietly in his chair.After a while he said, "I assume you've heard what's happening with the syntheticlegislation on New Mantique?"
"Yes."
"What do you think the outcome will be?"
"Well, the bill will become law, it's only a questionof when. My guess is within a year or two. At that point the board of directorsof NMS will have three options: shut down the company, try to produce modelswhich conform to the new regulations, which will reduce sales by eighty percentor more and could result in their bankruptcy, or move the company off New Mantiqueentirely."
"Your guess?"
"They'll move offplanet. NMS already has GUP Inc.and a dozen other companies throughout known space licensed to make synthetics.Moving the corporate headquarters and R&D farm to another world only makessense. The expense will be massive, of course, the NMS complex on New Mantiqueis over two kilometers across, but it's really the only option if they wantto stay competitive."
"There'll be a massive corporate shakeup."
"You're probably right."
Smylie paused again, a long one, then said, "Ireally wish you'd gotten the chance to get out and see the town, see what Garshakis really like." He paused and sighed, then leaned forwardand tapped the palm-sized comm cube on his desk. "Tamika? Would you come inhere please?"
"Yes Mr. Smylie."
Smylie leaned forward and regarded Race thoughtfully. "I'dlike to offer you a job," he told her. "Vice President, Marketing."
The office door opened and Smylie's assistant camein. She was exotically beautiful, thanks to an unusual Japanese/Arabic heritage.Her jet black hair was perfectly straight and hung to the middle of her back,and she wore a short-waisted double breasted blazer of green silk with paddedshoulders. The bottom of the blazer just barely touched the waistband of herskirt, which was made of some thick black elastic material that shone likeit was wet. The skirt came down just far enough to cover her buttocks, revealingcreamy thighs. She wore black toe boots, little more than ballet shoes withsix-inch spike heels that laced up over the ankle. They were so uncomfortableRace didn't know how anyone could walk in them, but they looked great, andTamika moved as if she'd had a lot of practice wearing them.
Tamika had a sensuous, fleshy body, with full lipspainted a rich, glossy red. Her buttocks and shapely thighs screamed SEX! Racethought of it as the slutty voluptuous look, and not very appropriate for anoffice setting. The skirt by itself was disconcerting. Not only wasn't it veryprofessional, it was distracting—Race kept expecting the skirt to rideup over Tamika's round buttocks.
"Yes Mr. Smylie?"
Smylie leaned back in his chair and swiveled itsideways. Tamika walked across the office, her curvy legs impossibly long inthe toe boots.
"What are you offering?" Race asked him, her cooltone hiding a hammering pulse.
"Full benefits package, of course, your own speeder," Smylietold her as his assistant walked around behind his desk. He leaned back inhis chair as she knelt on the carpet before him. "Corner office, with a greatview. We'll help you look for a residence, and will provide an apartment freeof charge until you find a place. An unmatched health care package that coverseverything short of permdying."
Tamika began undoing Smylie's pants, her glossyhair falling forward to obscure most of her face. The desk blocked most ofRace's view, and with Smylie's words echoing in her head she was slow to realizewhat the assistant was doing.
"Base pay of seven hundred thousand, plus profitsharing and the standard performance bonuses."
"Seven hun--!" she began. "What is she doing?" sheasked suddenly, sitting up straighter to peer over the desk.
It was obvious exactly what Tamika was doing, Smylie'spants undone, her head bobbing over his lap, but her thick hair concealed mostof the activity from view.
"Exactly what you think she's doing," Smylie toldher. "That's why I said I wished you'd seen more of Garshak, this is part ofour national culture, our corporate heritage. Your benefits package includesup to four personal synthetics, and one executive assistant of your choosing.It can be a man, if you like; the point is we do things a lot differently herethan on New Mantique. An assistant's duties are much more…all encompassing.I wanted to make sure you were aware of that fact before you made a decision."
"I'd heard, but I wasn't expecting…."
"I understand, it's tough to believe it until yousee it. Whatever you've heard is probably true, everything about our societyis pretty wide open. Talk to any of the female department heads, or divisionV.P.'s."
As bizarre as it was, after her luncheon meetingthe day before Race had no doubt he was telling her the truth. The top of Tamika'shead bobbed into view above the edge of the desk with metronomic regularity.Subdued slurping sounds filtered around the solid desk to her.
"Why don't you get a synthetic for a personal assistant?" Raceasked him, still having trouble getting her mind around Monny corporate life.
"Against the law. Any job that can be performedby a human must be."
"What?"
"How do you think we keep our unemployment at threepercent year after year?"
Tamika's head appeared above the desk top, hermouth shiny. Her ruby lip gloss was still perfect, indicating she'd investedthe extra money for semi-perm lacquer. "Do you have any idea how much moneyI make?" she asked Race. "How hard it was to get this job?" Her head loweredand resumed bobbing.
The competition for executive personal assistantpositions was, in fact, as intense as it was for executive positions. The paywas excellent for what was, in all actuality, a rather easy job. But the competition…Tamikarented instructional feelies on fellatio at least once a week to ensure herboss never got bored with her talents. She took so much X-Cite-R that she feltjacked up even when she knew there couldn't be any left in her system, butshe'd been so jacked up for so longthat it didn't bother her anymore like it used to. She couldn't remember whatit was like to not be bubbly and dripping wet from dawnto dusk. Her boyfriend surely enjoyed the side benefits of her job. She alsowatched what she ate and spent a fortune on clothes that skimmed the fine linebetween sexy professional and professional pulatrita. Some personal assistantsshe knew did a lot more, but she wasn't morphing or implantinganything.
Race sat there, silent, for close to a minute.Smylie watched her, seemingly oblivious to Tamika's ministrations.
"I'll need some time to think about this," Racesaid finally.
"Of course."
Race stood up. The height gave her a better viewof Smylie's assistant on her knees behind the desk. She'd pulled her skirtup over her ass when she knelt, revealing full, alabaster cheeks unencumberedby underwear.
"Are you married?" Race asked him, honestly curious.
"Yes. Twenty-one years next month."
"And your wife..?" Race waggled her hand in thedirection of Tamika's bobbing head.
"Does she know?" He gave a short laugh. "Of course.She helped me during the interview process. If she minded, Tamika wouldn'tbe where she is now. No, my wife is actually glad that no matter how stressfulmy day is I always come home relaxed and pleasant to be around."
Race started to say something, changed her mind,and started toward the door. She stopped midway there, turned to look at Smylieagain, and saw Tamika climbing to her feet. The assistant turned away fromSmylie and gently settled herself on his lap with a wiggle.
"I'll just let myself out," Race said.
"Thanks, that'd be great. You can leave the dooropen."
Maddie
- 20.07.2020
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