'Our business, though,' Cord continued, 'has a great deal of politics.' He took a final puff on his cigarette and put it out in the pewter ash tray. 'In fact, those politics are often cruel and unjust, and to the unwary can be deadly.'
'I've never tried to do anything to buy my job, Marc, if that's what you're driving at.'
'No, no, I realize that,' Cord replied. 'You've been conscientious, and you've tried to be fair with everybody. Believe me, that's a refreshing change from the usual.' He waved to the waitress that he wanted another round, and then refused to take the money Roger offered. 'This is going on my expense account, Rog. I can afford it better than you. Just drink and listen to me.' He paused again. 'The office has been talking about Drake retiring soon, haven't they?'
Roger nodded. 'I think Jim's due to leave next month, isn't he?'
'He is, and that means I'll be looking for a new general manager for my section. Now we both know that Willard Lewis wants that position, and that he's in line to get it.'
'I thought that was pretty well settled. I mean, by the way Willard has been talking, I assumed…'
'Right,' Cord said, breaking in. 'He has an excellent record and has been with the company for a good many years. By all the written rules of good company policy, Roger, he deserves the job.' Cord pursed his lips thoughtfully and then took a drink of beer. 'Weigh his qualifications against anybody else's, and he's the man.'
Roger's thoughts raced at what he imagined might be said next. Did this meeting represent… was Cord trying to offer him… damn it, was this all a lead-up to his appointment to the managerial position? His hand trembled as he drank, and the thrill of such an unlikely possibility coursed through him. God! He dare not dream of such an advancement!
'But this is where the politics I mentioned comes in,' Cord said, interrupting Roger's reverie. 'Business isn't always done by the rules, written or unwritten, and quite often it's a matter of manipulations.'
'I'm afraid you've lost me.'
Cord chuckled. 'All right, Rog, I'll lay it on the line. In plain language, the promotion belongs to Lewis, but my intentions are to give it to you. Am I clear now?'
'I'm… overwhelmed, Marc! I truly am.' Roger paused. His brain was spinning excitedly. 'But you said politics. That's still a little…' He searched for the right word. 'Unclear.'
'Perfectly obvious to me. Lewis is old fashioned. He's too Goddamned set in his ways, and as I move up in the firm, he could be more of a liability than an asset. I'd hazard to say that he could even become a danger to me.'
'And I wouldn't be, is that it?'
'I can trust a man who'll stay by me and guard my backside. You can be that man, Rog, if you want to be. You're interested in getting ahead, and you're young enough to see how sticking by me can help you. Let me break the ground, and you'll ride to the top with me, that I promise.'
Roger was stunned. He quickly took another large swallow of beer. 'That sounds fine with me, Marc. I'll… work for you in every way I can. You can count on me.'
Cord offered his hand and Roger shook it, sealing the bargain. 'I'm sure I can count on you, Rog,' Cord said warmly. 'I pride myself on analyzing character, and you're not the kind to think up clever schemes or angles, and stab me in the back.'
For some reason Roger felt a pang of self-revulsion. 'You're right, Marc. I don't have the guts for politics.'
'I didn't say that, Roger.'
'No, but it's true. I'm colorless, too staid and too quiet. I tend to climb into a safe little hole so that I won't see what's really going on in the world.' Roger wondered why he was talking like this, especially to Cord. But then, hadn't his prospective new boss been candid with him, taking a chance by confiding in him? Embarrassed, Roger laughed self consciously and raised the beer glass. 'Here's a toast, Marc,' he said. 'To the perfect combination of the swinger and the prude.'
Cork clinked glasses, smiling broadly. 'Here's to us, all right. But don't belittle yourself, Rog. I'm too flamboyant, and I think we can help each other. We're a good complement.'
Feeling better from Cord's remarks, Roger threw his head back and drained his beer. Cord motioned for the waitress again and ordered another round. She left and Cord said to Roger, 'After this drink, let's go some place else. You know, find some action, have a little fun maybe.'
Roger was tempted. He was more tempted than ever before in his married life. The idea of a hot, unknown pussy crawling and heaving around his pistoning cock made his head swim with desire, and he felt his prick engorge and stiffen in his pants. He needed a good fuck tonight, and Diane was definitely not that. Then he remembered he had promised her he would be home early this evening, for some special reason she had refused to elaborate upon. In spite of his sexual hunger, he had to admit that he still loved her, and that he was a man who kept his promises. He wanted to pound the table in frustration.
'Damnit, Marc, I can't tonight. I'm sorry.'
'Don't be. I'll tell you what, Rog. Why don't you and your wife come over to dinner tomorrow night? I want you to meet Cindy, my wife. I think you'll like her.' He winked at Roger, then turned to the waitress. She was back with the beers. He beckoned her to lean over so that he could whisper something to her. Roger overheard Cord ask the girl what time she got off work. She told him nine, and Cord said that he would be at this table, and if she would care for dinner…
The waitress smiled provocatively, nodded agreement and moved away. Roger almost groaned involuntarily at the image of what was certainly to follow the dinner. A fine dessert, all right…
'I've got to hand it to you, Marc,' he said then, with genuine admiration. 'You really have a way with the women.'
Cord gave him a superior grin. 'Nothing to it, Rog. Just takes practice. Hell, you can have it, too. Just lose some of your Victorian prudery and play the modern role.'
'Security,' Roger said. 'That's my trouble. I want security. I come from an average middle class home, Marc. My dad was a stock broker, and you know how conservative they are. We were close, and I guess I picked up his attitudes toward solidarity.' Roger rose from the chair realizing for the first time that he was somewhat drunk.
'Don't let it worry you, Rog,' Cord said. 'Maybe you can loosen up a bit as we work together.'
Roger steadied himself with a hand on the edge of the table. 'I hope so.' He paused, then said, 'Thank you, Marc, thank you very much for this position. You… won't regret it.'
'I'm sure I won't. Now get home, Rog. I wouldn't want to go anywhere else if I had a hot little piece like yours waiting either. See you tomorrow night.'
Roger smiled weakly, said good night, and staggered toward the exit. Cord's last words burned in his mind. Hot piece. If Marc only knew what kind of an icy bitch she really was. Even out of bed, she demanded all the little things involved in story book romance, with her teasing, suggestive remarks and her come-on looks, parading around in provocative clothes. But it was all a sham. Get down to basics, and she might as well have been encased in a block of glacier ice for all the good it did him. His balls and penis throbbed and ached for the loving touch of a woman, and all he had to look forward to was cold rejection.
Roger walked to the parking lot, the cool night air ineffectual on the rising cloud of inebriation, and picked up his car. The beer surged through his system, and made his thoughts hazy and his emotions fortified. Goddamn it, he was going to show her! He was going to fuck the shit out of her tonight whether she liked it or not, by God!
Roger drove more recklessly than was his usual wont from the combination of beer and passion. The alcohol had completely flooded his mind, and with careless abandon he speeded through the downtown traffic to Geary Boulevard, unmindful of possible violations. Christ, I'm drunker than I thought! he told himself. He never could hold his liquor very well, and more than two of anything, even glasses of wine or beer, affected him badly.
The heat of rising desire flamed his already lewdly-burning thoughts. Goddamn Cord and his wanton ways! That waitress' smirking countenance again appeared in his mind's eye. Her thinly disguised hunger for Cord's handsome body, and no doubt huge cock, flashed before him like a red flag in front of a maddened bull. Like the bull, Roger more and more angry, until he almost screamed with rage and frustration.
Goddamn his wife! His Diane, his one and only — Shit! God, he'd be deliriously happy if only she was a woman, a red-blooded female who wanted him! But he was denied his rights, his end of the marriage bargain. He pictured the ideal situation with Diane, with her mewling and moaning with pleasure as he took her a hundred different ways, and she in turn writhing and sucking and kissing him with unquenchable lust. He could almost feel
