More anxious than ever, Ben watched as the towering businesswoman turned and led him back into her office. That was when he spied her caboose. Narrow a figure though she had, the suit skirt was tight enough around the rear to hug the modest globe of her ass. From the way she gyrated ever so subtly with each step, its suppleness, despite her humble hips, was made apparent. It took all Ben’s concentration to pull his view of it, not to mention her long, athletic legs, away.
It wasn’t the most luxurious space ever, but clearly the woman had an eye for design and fashion, even without the spotless catalogue-sense of a company president. Her space was spare, almost Spartan in its utility, with a bonsai tree in the corner and little other furniture beside her desk. Multiple framed business degrees hung on the wall behind her desk. Manicured fingers to the tabletop, she sunken regally into the plush swiveling armchair that looked more like it belonged in a smoking lounge than the Blend corporate floors.
“Take a seat, Benjamin,” Ms. Hoshoku said, some underlying instruction evident in her steely voice. She smiled that same silently calculating smile which, while it enraptured Ben, only increased his nerves.
He turned, spying a standard office chair meant for him on the opposite side of the desk. He lowered himself into it and found he was once again staring up to his superior Ms. Hoshoku across the silver span of the desk.
The woman rummaged in a briefcase well out of Ben’s view. When her hands returned to the tabletop, her fingers were cradling a pair of clear glassy bottles. Ben recognized them as prototype beverage units, with no merchandising marking on them; these were exclusively for testing the cutting-edge new products.
His heart thumped again. This had to be good news. It had to be.
“Congratulations, Benjamin,” Ms. Hoshoku said with apparent warmth. Her almond eyes peered deeply into his for perhaps the first time during this introduction. It caught Ben off guard. He almost felt he was sinking deeper into the chair cushion, melting away.
“W-What for?” he managed. He bit his tongue; that stutter had to go. Even if he was in with the big dogs now, that didn’t mean he could look like a weakling. The big dogs were the big dogs for a reason.
“Oh, there’s no need to play coy. A Blend tech with as much raw, natural talent as you? Benjamin, that research you prepared was brought to me three and a half weeks ago. Everyone who saw it first was very impressed, and then so was I. And believe me, I’m not easily impressed. We’ve been hard at work ever since, ensuring that your effort is translated into a fruitful and financially successful outcome.”
“Y-Yeah?”
“Very much indeed. You see, your research not only caught my eye for the sheer originality of your approaches to the age-old diet-soda issue, but for its unique capability to bond with any combination of partnering elements, such that just about any new beverage can be crafted.” At this point, Hoshoku rose from her chair and circled around the desk toward a nearby bookshelf, which Ben realized doubled for a bar. She removed a chromed thermos from a high platform on the wall and laid it gingerly across both of her wide palms.
“Well, thanks!” Ben said. “That’s… the idea!”
“And don’t I know it now,” she said as she returned to the desk. “As you may have heard, I’m considered something of a busy beaver around Blend, especially on these upper floors. I’ve had my own… shall we say, elite team of Blend technicians, my personal squad, hard at work on a project I’ve had on ice for at least three years. Following?”
Nodding, Ben couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy and burgeoning resentment. Elite team? What, so he was just cut out of the final product? Nevertheless, he managed to cool himself mid-flare. After all, he was here, right? There had to be something in it for him still.
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, to avoid boring you with the needless details of the transition period…” the woman continued. She uncorked the thermos and poured out a velvety waterfall of rich, red liquid almost the hue of strawberry jam into each of the glass bottles. “…suffice it to say we’ve got a real winner on our hands here. Your blend formula, and my personal technicians’ cherry on top. I’d sincerely appreciate you taking the inaugural tasting with me.”
The necks of each crimson-filled glass bottle perched between Ms. Hoshoku’s draped fingers. But Ben hardly noticed.
He blinked. He wasn’t even close to processing what was being said to him. Not only because it sounded so wildly too-good-to-be-true that he was half-convinced this was a dream, but also the very visage of Ms. Hoshoku herself. More than a dream, she was nearly a mirage. So angelic and immaculately sculpted. That raven hair, which seemed to catch the light on at least once perfectly silky strand wherever she stood. God, she was gorgeous. How did anyone on earth ever look at her and hear what she was saying? Ben felt like his skull was being sucked into a tractor beam.
“Ben?”
“Yes! Yes? Sorry, I, uh…” he mumbled. “I drifted, I apologize. I suppose I’m just…”
“…nervous? I suppose I could’ve guessed that from your stammer and the flop sweat you’re sitting in now,” she remarked casually, her chin resting upon a softly clamped fist upon her desk. “Or maybe just from the way your mouth hangs open when you’re not trying speak.”
Again, Ben froze. Damn, she was perceptive. He didn’t doubt she could cut right to his core if she watched him for long enough, like taking a flensing knife to his soul.
The woman smirked. “Don’t fret, Benjamin, I’m only having some fun with you. I’m well aware many of the lower company assets such as yourself find me and my offices intimidating. I couldn’t blame you for that. Perhaps there’s something logical in such a feeling. Regardless, there’s no need for such trepidation today. Because this is a day of celebration.”
“A day of celebration, ma’am?”
“Oh, don’t be so formal, Benjamin. None of this ma’am business. Just call me Ms. Hoshoku.”
Really? That was less formal? Ben didn’t have time to ponder the oddity of this distinction, nor to care about it, as he witnessed the leggy businesswoman’s next move.
She ascended from her desk again, and as before, Ben’s attention was instantly diverted toward her legs encased in nude nylon beneath the hem of her taut skirt. He watched her high heels stalk one in front of the other across the floor. The swish of nylon between her thighs whispered in the man’s ears. Her butt peeked just around the corner of her lower hip, taunting.
“Benjamin?” she pressed.
“Yes! Sorry, ma’a… I mean, Ms. Hoshoku.”
“Now that’s a good boy.” Her palm flattened around his shoulder, her long fingers encasing much more of his shoulder blade than Ben would’ve guessed possible. Goose bumps rippled like plague through his entire body. Instantly he felt stirring down between his legs, as sure sign of an incriminating pants tent. He cleared his throat and leaned forward to conceal his half-mast.
“Drink up,” she instructed, handing him a bottle, and she didn’t have to tell him twice. He wrapped his lips around the neck and guzzled down half the bottle in one gulp, if only to alleviate the redness in his cheeks. Indeed, as she’d hinted, it tasted like cherry. Grinning, Ms. Hoshuku followed suit, drinking down her own beverage as she stood over her employee.
“As of this moment, we’re pointing Blend back toward the sky. I’ve already passed on this partnership beverage between your original research and my tireless team to the requisite suits. They’re about to push it hard, putting a bottle into the hand of every viable consumer. You’d do well to hang on tight, Benjamin, because there will be no gentle flight for anyone too shaky to handle the ascent,” Ms. Hoshuku informed him with crystalline philosophical clarity. Her hand remained on his shoulder, fingers drumming on his back. “This… that liquid you feel running down your throat right now, is the future of Blend. And who knows? Maybe it will be the future of a few other things as well.”
A pit formed in Ben’s stomach.