Late For DinnerChapter 11 Out of the Frying Pan
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The Brass StatuettesChapter 20: The Frying Pan And The Fire free porn video
It was just after ten when Frank pulled into his driveway. He'd been thinking about his encounter with Gloria all the while he drove home. It was hard to put it out of his mind.
"Trudy was right. I sure didn't see that coming."
The downstairs was dark, but he'd seen the bedroom light on from the street. He wondered if Trudy was still burned up. If the light was out by the time he got upstairs, he would know the answer. Margaret's light was on, too; so, he knew she was in her room. The last thing he wanted was another blow-up with their daughter listening in.
He was pretty sure that Trudy had saved him dinner in the refrigerator. He didn't really want any, but he took a look, anyway. "Whew! She did save some." If she'd been really angry, she would've dumped it down the disposal. He decided to save it for lunch on Saturday.
Frank set his briefcase in the usual corner. He took off his jacket and slung it over his shoulder and loosened his tie. He stopped at Margaret's door and knocked. His daughter was lying prone on her bed with her shoes kicked off. There were open school books on the bed with her.
"How was school today?"
"Okay, I guess."
"That doesn't sound very exciting."
"It's Chemistry, Daddy. It's really hard."
"It's hard for everyone, Peggy. You've got to study it—there's no easy way around it. I think you took it too lightly when school first started. Now you're catching up."
"It's not just me. Everyone says it's hard. The teacher doesn't care. He just keeps piling on more and more."
"Welcome to the real world. This is a taste of what college is like. Go to your teacher for extra help. Be sure you have all your homework done first—at least whatever you can do. I'm sure he'll help you."
"Can you help me?"
"No," Frank answered, "it's been a long time and I was never that good at it. You'd better talk to your teacher."
The girl put on a frown. "But you work for a chemical company."
"Not that part of it," Frank was quick with the answer. "There's no easy way around it. You're smart enough to handle it if you put your mind to it. Just go to your teacher and get on the right track before you get too far behind."
"Maybe I could..."
"If I could pass it, you surely can," Frank insisted. "It was a hard subject for me. There were times I didn't think I could do it." His daughter said nothing, but offered a grudging nod. "And don't confuse study time with cell phone time," the father added. He said good night and closed the door behind him.
He walked down the hall to his and Trudy's bedroom and opened the door. The lamp over the bed was on. He saw Trudy in bed reading a magazine. She was wearing a cotton nightgown. He hoped that she'd say something when he walked in, but she didn't—and she didn't look up at him, either.
He opened the closet door and hung up his suit jacket.
"How did it go at Gloria's?" she finally asked.
Frank sighed. "It was a big waste of time. I shouldn't have gone." He took off his trousers and hung them up with the jacket.
"Who was there—besides you and Gloria, I mean?"
"Just us; I guess there were supposed to be more but they didn't show up."
"I'll bet!"
"Oh—and there was the maid."
"So, what did you do all this time?"
"I had a drink. Gloria just kept prattling on; she wasn't making much sense. She might have had a few before I got there; I can't say for sure. I kept asking her about the books and records for the Foundation and she didn't really answer. Then she finally showed them to me. They were a mess—strewn in a bunch of files. Some were even on the floor."
"Then, what?"
"I told her that I didn't think I could help her. I finished my drink and then I left. That was about it."
"What was Gloria wearing?" Trudy asked.
Frank paused and scratched his head. "To tell you the truth, I didn't really notice."
"You haven't had anything to eat, have you?"
"Gloria had some of those snack-things on a tray. I ate a couple of those."
"Snack things?" Trudy laughed.
"You know, melted cheese and bacon on crackers; that sort of thing."
"I left your dinner in the refrigerator. If you're hungry..."
"I thought I'd find something more appetizing up here," Frank interrupted.
Trudy laughed. Her eyes were bright and dancing again. "What makes you so sure about that?"
"Past experience, I guess." Frank tried to look serious, but he was letting a grin show through, and he knew it. He retreated to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash up.
"You look smug," Trudy said when Frank returned to the bedroom. She hoisted her nightie over her head and tossed it on a chair. "I don't know why; you're lucky I'm still talking to you."
Frank saw that Trudy was trying to keep a serious face, too, but wasn't doing a very good job of it. As she sat in bed the covers hid her legs and waist, but her top half was bare to him. Frank had to admit that she truly did look quite appetizing. He paused a few feet from the edge of the bed, looking at her. She slid down and lay on her back.
"Well, don't just stand there," she urged him. "Come over here and turn out the light—and get that underwear off before you get in bed with me. Then, she let out a deep, throaty laugh—the one he heard whenever she wanted him.
The lights were out and Frank lay alongside her. She moved over closer to him. "I hope those little 'snack-things' were enough—because you're going to need all your strength by the time I'm through with you." He heard that laugh again and he knew she meant what she said.
Frank felt a little bit guilty that he'd lied about what happened at Gloria's house. It seemed like the right thing to do. He was certain he'd never go back; the better way was to forget about it. Why make Trudy deal with it all over again? He stopped thinking about it and turned his attention to pleasing her and being pleased by her.
After a while he was hovering over her. He rested most of his weight on his elbows; his chest barely brushed her breasts, and in that way he felt them more. He prepared to enter her. He was between her legs; her body was open to him. He felt her long legs wrapped around his and her arms capturing him around his shoulders. He pressed forward a little, looking for that exact place.
"Am I your only one?" she whispered in his ear in that moment of truthfulness known by man and wife.
"Yes, you are," he whispered back.
She thrust her hips up at his; he went a little bit into her. She pressed up again. She put him in a little further and then puffed out a breath. He pressed back and he was in all the way. He heard her moan with pleasure, and then he did, too.
They didn't speak again, even for several minutes after they'd finished. He was lying on his back and she lay alongside him with her head on his shoulder. It was their usual after-lovemaking position. She had made a few purring sounds that told Frank that she was happy. That meant that he was happy, too.
"So, you think I was smug," he teased her.
"Mmmm," she mewed and pressed herself tighter against him. "I was just reminded that you have a good reason to be smug," she answered in a drowsy voice. He chuckled a little and kissed her forehead.
His stomach growled. "It sounds like Gloria's snack-things weren't enough, after all," he said.
"I'll make you a big breakfast in the morning," she replied, sounding like she was nearly asleep. "You'll have to wait until then."
The next day was Wednesday, which meant that it was calendar day for Western Chemical and its quest for an injunction against the SEC impound of its financial statements. Frank was in his office waiting for the news. He knew that he shouldn't expect any before lunch. It was hard to get the question out of his mind. He wished that Crossman hadn't insisted that he stay away from the courtroom—but Al knew best in these things and Tyler backed Al up.
He reviewed some forecast details with Aaron. It looked like the numbers were coming out as expected. A lot depended on whether Blake's plant refurbishment plan went through. He told Aaron to develop scenarios with and without it, as well as several at different stages of releasing the Wertheim reserve. The main issue became more Cash Flow than Net Income.
"When you're finished with that, report to Blake Hart and tell him you're ready to devote full time to his Plant Refurbishment Project. You have to get him to a point where he can present it to Mr. Warner and the rest of the Directors. In fact, treat it like part of the forecast. Squeeze the finishing touches on the forecast in when you have time."
"Should I stay in the old Controller's Office?" Aaron asked.
"Definitely yes," Frank replied. "Stay there until I tell you to move out."
Jeannette interrupted them from the intercom. "Mr. Smith and Mr. Hart are here for your meeting."
"Good—send them in. Bring in some more coffee when you can, too, please—and I think we'll order lunch in. We'll have a working lunch."
Aaron packed up his file and got ready to leave. "I'll bring in the numbers when I'm done," he said.
"No—no," Frank stopped him. "Stay here for this meeting. This has to do with Blake's project. You can have lunch with us."
Tyler and Blake came in and sat down. Jeannette followed him into the room and began taking lunch orders. "You guys know Aaron Fishman, right?" Frank asked. "I'm assigning him to Blake to help on this project."
Blake nodded, but Tyler spoke up. "I haven't had the pleasure," he said and they shook hands.
"Put something for yourself on the lunch list, Jeannette," Frank said. She thanked Frank and set a fresh carafe of coffee on the table before she left the room.
"Hell of a secretary, Frank," Blake attested.
"Don't get any ideas," Frank said. "She's mine."
"I met with the Texas City people," Tyler reported. "It was just preliminary. I made it that way so they'd have nothing to take to the Press before we want them to."
"Good, Tyler. What was their general take on it?" Frank asked.
"They'll be okay. It looks like they'll want to suspend the agreement until the project is complete so they get the number of months they bargained for."
"Reasonable," Frank said. "What else?"
"The potential clinker is that a couple of Commissioners mentioned something about mandating local labor content for the refurbishment construction."
"That would be a problem," Blake said. "Some of that work is pretty specialized. It might not be possible to get the right people locally. You better talk to me before you go too far in that direction."
"I think we can work around it—maybe a certain percentage local," Tyler said.
"Maybe; we'd have to take a look at it first," Blake insisted.
"What about infrastructure?" Frank asked. "Road widening, sewers, sidewalks; that type of thing?"
"We haven't got that far," Blake said. "We could estimate..."
"I was thinking we could pay for some improvements in the vicinity of the plant up front in return for added future tax relief. That would absorb some spare cash and extend our commitment there," Frank said.
"What's your thinking here, Frank?" Tyler asked.
"The commitment would help us ward off predators, like Mueller, who figure on taking over the company on the cheap," Frank explained. "It would absorb our spare cash so it couldn't be used against us, and put a contingent liability on the Balance Sheet. At the same time, it would extend our tax advantages further into the future."
"A poison pill," Tyler said.
"Not quite poison," Frank said. "It would put a bitter taste on the pill, for anyone looking to turn a quick buck on the company."
"Sounds like good thinking," Blake said. "Have you spoken with Alvin about it?"
"No, he's got enough to think about already."
"But..."
The buzzer on the intercom interrupted Blake. "Mr. Crossman is on is on the line," Jeannette said through the speaker.
"I've gotta take this," Frank said. "This has to be the ruling on the injunction against the SEC." Frank ran to the phone on his desk and pickled up the receiver.
"Hello, Al—Frank Bennett here." He listened for a minute, then punched the air with his fist. "Good work, Al," Frank said. "I'll talk to you later."
Frank returned to the table. "It's what we were hoping for. They actually sent an SEC lawyer down here just to tell the judge they were dropping the matter. Crossman thinks it was spur of the moment. He's guessing that they were originally going to fight it, but then decided not to."
"Geez, that's weird," Tyler mused. "After going through this all these weeks and then just throw in the sponge? So the judge never gave his ruling?"
"No. Al said he was good and mad, though. Al said that he guessed the SEC people knew it was going against them and didn't want that on the record, so they dropped it to take it off the books."
"I don't blame the judge for getting pissed," Blake said. "I don't feel too kindly about them, myself. They've put us all through hell these last few months."
"It's not over yet," Frank advised,"but, the worst is over. The 10-Q will be on the street in about an hour."
"This is good news all around," Tyler said. "You deserve the credit, Frank."
"Naw," Frank answered. "Crossman does; you guys do, too for keeping the Company on the right track." He looked at the two vice-presidents, who looked back shaking their heads. "Oh, hell!" he admitted, "We all do."
"We ought to go down and let Alvin know," Tyler said.
"You guys go ahead," Frank said. "I've got to make some calls. Come on back at five and we'll have a drink to celebrate. You too, Aaron. Bring Alvin along. God knows—I've drunk enough of his private stock lately. Hey, bring Jason along, too. We've got to make him more a part of the team. He can celebrate because now we can go out and get his programs funded."
Frank had just completed his phone call with Murray Shoreham. He called Murray to let him know about the lifting of the impound by the SEC. Murray was happy to hear it. He also asked about the problem with his advance copy of the 10-Q. He was worried, a bit late, that he'd committed a big mistake by talking too much about it. Frank told him he hadn't had time to look into it
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