Xavier Parisian
surveyed the party scene with pride. The room was alive with bright colors,
strobing lights, exotic dancers, loud music, and as many men and women in his
employment as could fit in the room.
Today they
celebrated a worthy cause: the twentieth anniversary of the Peres Corporation's
rise to dominance and preeminence in Corporate America. Once it had been the
Byblos Grand Campus, now it was the thriving corporate municipality Paristown,
and no one was prouder of that fact than Xavier. He could swear his employee
population was now twice what it had been in Nevada, and that every one of them
considered it an honor to work for such a prestigious company—except a few of
the corporate holdovers from that little company in St. Louis, the little
do-gooders who were willing to remove here to Reno, Nevada in the certainty of
constant employment (if not potential promotion) rather than the uncertainty of
the little business complex in St. Louis that had been abandoned for so long.
Speaking of Integra holdovers… Xavier frowned; this was a corporate event, why
shouldn’t Daniel Princeton, whom Xavier had made Executive Director of
Corporate Affairs, attend? Mr. Parisian shrugged.
"Party
pooper," he sniggered drunkenly.
Xavier caught
sight of a trimly-dressed waiter with a platter full of martinis and cocktails
and waved him over. Grabbing a martini for himself, he waved the waiter off
toward the party, "Go 'round 'gain!" he roared. "Let everybody
have as much as they want! This will be a party to end all parties! PERES IS
KING!"
A few who heard
the last declaration cheered rowdily. Water splashed over the floor as drunk
partygoers stumbled into the hot tubs installed right in the floor expressly
for this party, and instead of water, the fountain at the center flowed with
punch. People danced if they wanted to, made out if they chose, and from one
end of the Great Ballroom to the other it was just every person doing exactly
what he or she wanted to do.
Xavier sat on
the elevated platform, sprawled across his chair as the effects of the
half-dozen or so martinis and the number of cocktails he had consumed over the
last few hours permeated his system. He ogled the exotic dancers, thinking of
the one woman he esteemed above all others in the company. Xavier opened the
wrist-comm unit he wore and pressed the buzzer to summon Venus.
She did not
respond. Xavier scowled; she was his personal assistant! She should always come
when he summoned her! So what if he had given her permission to throw a party
of her own for the other assistants and escorts of the Peres Corporation! Even
they should know that no one ignores a wrist-comm summons! Particularly not one
that came from the son of the great Conrad Parisian, himself! Xavier looked
around at the partygoers, suddenly peeved at the fact that though he had
invited them with the purpose of allowing them to do as they pleased, not one
of them acknowledged him. Xavier felt that he was not getting the attention he
deserved. He summoned his Directors and Chief Executives from various points
around the room. Xavier noted that they all came immediately; he would show
that little minx who was in charge of her!
Xavier leaned
forward and smiled at the knot of men (and a few women who still clung to
them).
"Are you
all enjoying yourselves?" he asked mildly.
The men—some
younger, a few older—cheered in response.
Xavier nodded,
preparing to enact his plan. "Next to me, you all are the most prestigious
men of the company," he explained, "so it took a lot of thinking, but
I finally came up with a reward for you men that far exceeds anything
here." he emphasized the word "men," and stared hard at the
ladies until one by one they slipped away. Xavier waved his directors and
executives closer.
"You have
heard of my assistant Venus?" he asked.
"We have
heard of her, sir," Terrance Miel, Chief of Correspondence, replied,
"but she is exclusively your own, and we have never seen her."
Xavier coached
them on, seeing a hungry glint in a few men's eyes. "What have you
heard?"
The compliments
poured out of the liquor-loosened lips.
"That she
is the most beautiful woman on earth."
"That she
is capable of doing anything you want her to."
"I heard
her hair looks like it's made of spun gold."
"I hear she
has the most expensive wardrobe in the world, and she wears it as per your
request.”
"They say
when she laughs it sounds like twittering birds."
"They say
she pleases you more than anything else in the world."
Xavier nodded,
"That she does!" he agreed, "And just to prove my appreciation
for all your hard work, here's what's going to happen: I am about to summon
Venus to that platform over there." He pointed across the room to the
stage where a band now performed live music for the party. "The house
lights will go down and she'll have spotlights on her as she makes her
entrance, but after the house lights come back up, she'll be at the back of the
stage...and that's when you can take her."
The men gasped.
"Have Venus, sir?" someone queried tremulously.
Xavier waved his
hand, "Have her, dance with her, hit on her, talk to her, boss her around,
whatever you like; just for tonight, boys, Venus is all yours."
The men cheered
as they left Xavier's side. The Executive Director smiled; of course he knew
the men would brag about Venus to their friends, who would either suck up to
Xavier looking for a similar favor, or try to take Venus without asking first.
Either way, the woman who thought she could exert her will over his was about
to get dominated by almost every male in the corporation.
Xavier snapped
his fingers. A redheaded woman—a seasoned assistant, and typically the one in
charge of all the personal assistants, though she never aspired to the level of
desirability she coached in others—approached his chair.
"Send Venus
out to me," he ordered, "Let her come out on stage over there,"
he pointed to the particular platform, "And see to it that she is wearing
that new outfit I just bought her."
"The
world's most expensive dress, sir?"
"Yes, that
one."
The woman nodded
and turned to carry out his command.
"Oh,
Marcia?" Xavier called lazily after her.
Marcia stopped,
"Yes sir?"
"Make sure
she wears all of it. Right down to the intimates." He waved his hand,
shooing her away, "Off you go!"
Xavier grabbed
another cocktail and sprawled further in his seat. Soon, Venus would appear,
and find her rebellious little self at the mercy of the men of Peres. Soon, she
would be begging him to allow her to come to him; watch her squirm as he
refused! Soon—
"Sir?"
What was all
that racket? Whose hand rested on his shoulder. Xavier blearily jerked awake.
Marcia stood
respectfully by his side; why was she—Xavier remembered everything that had
just transpired, and his eyes darted to the stage. Another band played on for
the crowd.
Had he missed
the whole thing? "Venus—" he slurred.
Marcia hung her
head, "She regrets to inform you, sir, that she is otherwise engaged at
this time and cannot come."
"WHAT?"
Xavier exploded. "Impossible! Tell her I want her. Summon her!"
Marcia
obediently activated her wrist-comm, which would send an electric signal to a
similar device on Venus' wrist, alerting her to the urgency of the situation.
Very soon,
Marcia received a text reply to the summons.
"WTD*?" Venus wrote, "Tell X 2 move his @$$
if he wants 2 C me." (*What The Dagon)
Marcia sighed;
the high living had always suited Venus—once named Veronica—too well. Now it
had come to this?
"Well?"
Xavier's bloodshot eyes rolled toward the compliant, businesslike redhead.
"I'm sorry,
sir," Marcia tried to smooth it over as genteelly as possible, "Venus
invites you to come and see her, but she cannot come herself."
Xavier glowered
and did not say a word for a very long time. Marcia fought the urge to fidget
as she was forced to stand and watch the heavily inebriated man's anger
increase. She stood, maintaining an air of professionalism as Xavier began to
hyperventilate.
"She will
not come," he heaved through clenched teeth. He aimed his fiery eyes at
the redhead, "Do you know what this means?" He did not wait for an
answer (and Marcia did not dare speak in the presence of the angry man) but
spat angrily, "She refused me! She!
Refused me!" Xavier pounded
the arm of his chair. "Nobody refuses me!" he snarled, "Nobody!" He gave the summons for all directors present
to join him in a private lounge. Xavier, even in his inebriated state, saw the
whispering and glancing among the partiers closest to his throne, who had no
doubt witnessed the whole thing. Let them talk!
Xavier surveyed
the group of men sitting before him in the lounge. These were the people he
trusted out of everyone in the whole company. They knew the company bylaws and
policies.
"What is to
be done with the assistant who refuses a direct order?" he demanded of
them. "I called for Venus and she refused me!" His temper (and his
liquor) got the better of him, and he ranted again, "Nobody refuses me! I
am the Corporate King! Nobody refuses me!"
"I quite
agree, sir," Thomas Hershing, whom the other executives sometimes referred
to as Big Tom, folded his large hands over his ample belly. "Venus has not
complied with your summons, as assistants are required to do, particularly at
her level of social visibility!"
"Yes,
indeed," Terrence agreed with Big Tom, "Who knows but the other
assistants and escorts might feel like doing the same thing arbitrarily, and if
nothing is done, what would stop them? Venus must be taught a lesson, to serve
as an example for all the others."
Xavier giggled,
"Yes, good! I like this!"
"Mr.
Parisian, sir," a young man spoke up, raising his hand respectfully. This
was Mohammed Khan, the Executive Director of Public Relations. He thought
carefully as he answered, "It would be well for you to dismiss Venus here
and now. Relinquish her to a low position, such as Warehousing, and in case any
assistant feels emboldened by her foolish choice, give leave for any executive
to do the same."
"I
will!" Xavier cried, "I will do that right now!" He burst out of
the door of the lounge and climbed back up to his throne on the elevated
platform.
Instantly, as
everyone saw him, all noise died. By now, everyone had heard of Venus' refusal,
and—like the "reality soap opera" shows everyone loved to watch—there
was not a person in that enormous ballroom who did not feel the strain to know
what would happen. Xavier decided that a full-scale reveal was in order.
"Venus,"
he announced, "Is hereby stripped of her position as executive assistant!
She is to be sent to Maintenance and Grounds-keeping where she will remain
during the rest of her employment at Peres! Effective immediately!" Xavier
saw various security guards nod and move to "fetch" the rebellious
woman. The room was beginning to spin, but before Xavier could sit down, he saw
Mohammed prompting him and remembered the other part of his announcement.
"Furthermore,"
he continued over the loudspeakers, "be it known that any escort or
assistant who refuses her superior may receive the same treatment."
A collective
gasp went up from the crowd, but the word of Xavier Parisian was as good as law
on the Company Campus. There was some scattered applause, but the music
returned and everybody remembered the purpose of their presence there.
Nobody glanced
twice at the tall, slender, golden-haired beauty being dragged from the
premises wearing nothing but a pair of coveralls embroidered with her name:
Veronica.
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