Scott was on his sixth cup of black coffee when the phone rang. After a virtually sleepless night punctuated with restless pacing about his apartment and energetic tossing in the bed, his nerves were on edge. The shrill ringing of the telephone made his hand shake.
He picked the instrument up and listened to Harry Halliday's secretary rattle off two short sentences. He was to be in Harry's office at eleven o'clock and Mr. Halliday wondered if he'd mind wearing a suit and a tie.
A suit and tie? What the hell was it with Harry? Harry, knew that Scott was passionately dedicated to casual wear. He thanked the secretary and told her to tell Harry that he'd stop at the Salvation Army on the way down to pick up a tie.
Scott Nelson was not nearly as flip as he wanted to sound. Someone knew that he'd balled the two young girls. Scott was positive of that. When the girls had left the afternoon before, Scott had seen them to the door. Just outside his door he found a handkerchief and a pack of matches on the hall floor. They hadn't been there when he had taken the girls into the apartment.
All night long his thoughts alternated between what would happen if he was exposed and the glorious things the three of them had done together. One moment he saw himself wrapped in a straight jacket and locked in a psycho ward of a prison, and the next he was reliving the way Kathy had played with his balls while he fucked her thirteen-year-old girl friend.
At some point in the middle of the night Scott was suddenly convinced that the board of directors at Merrill would hate his work and tell Harry to get rid of him. From this his thoughts progressed to the fact that he was washed up and would have to go back to pushing a pencil over sheet after sheet of accounting paper.
A suit and tie, for Christ's sake! Were they fattening him up for the kill?
He arrived at the Merrill plant at five minutes to eleven and was ushered into Harry's office at eleven on the dot.
"Thanks for breaking your schedule to come in, Scott," Harry said with extended hand.
"Breaking my schedule?"
A flick of Harry eyes told Scott that they weren't alone and Scott saw the elderly, portly man sitting in the corner. The man looked like something from an advertisement in Esquire.
"Scott, let me introduce Martin Stachdt," Harry said.
"Mister Stachdt," Scott said, offering his hand as the older man rose and crossed the room.
"Mister Nelson."
"Martin is a member of our board, Scott," Harry said as he crossed back to sit behind his desk. "And he is also president of Stachdt Industries."
"Mister Nelson probably knows us better by our brand name, Harry," Martin Stachdt remarked. "My company produces the Hurricane line of boats, skis and sporting goods."
"Oh!" Scott replied, properly impressed. Hurricane was one of the largest companies in the country and the Hurricane building dominated the Dallas skyline.
"By the way, Scott," Harry said, "did Charlene tell you how much the board liked the photos?"
"Charlene told me to be here at eleven, wearing a suit and tie," Scott returned with a laugh.
"Well, the board flipped over the samples I showed them," Harry said with a smile, "and they authorized me to go ahead full steam for the catalogue."
"Great!" Scott said as casually as he could. His heart was pounding in his throat with relief. "I hope you got a decent budget, Harry. Working those trial shots on that shoestring damned near killed me!"
"Don't worry," Harry laughed, "they gave us a virtually unlimited budget. Within reason, of course."
"Have I ever been unreasonable?" Scott laughed.
"Never," Harry replied. "The reason I asked you to come in at eleven, Scott, was that Martin wanted to meet you and talk to you. Martin has a very interesting proposal for you, but let me remind you, before he starts, that Merrill comes first on your schedule."
"Mister Nelson," Martin Stachdt began, picking up the thread from Harry Halliday, "I'll begin by saying that your work hit me between the eyes when I saw it last night. It's new, innovative, attractive and I think it has more class than anything I've seen in years."
"Well, thank you," Scott replied, basking in the praise and wondering what in the hell was coming next.
"I gave the matter a lot of thought last night, Mister Nelson, and I want you to do some work for my company. Now, before you start talking about your schedule, let me say that I'm sure you're well booked. A man of your talent and imagination never lacks work. I realize that. And I realize that Harry was damned lucky the day he happened to run into you downtown."
"The answer to our prayers," Harry commented.
"So," Stachdt continued before Scott could speak, "I want you to know that what I have in mind isn't a small project you can work in between other assignments."
"Just what is it you have in mind, Mister Stachdt?" Scott asked. He was tempted to call him Martin, but you didn't call men worth what this man was worth by their first name the first time you met them.
"I want you to do the catalogue for every division of my company and then a general catalogue for the whole company," Martin Stachdt said. "We have five manufacturing divisions and thirteen sales companies. At last count our consumer products number some thirty-one different lines."
"Mister Stachdt," Scott gasped, "you're talking about something that will take over a year to…"
"I know what I'm talking about, Nelson," Martin Stachdt laughed. "I'm talking about one hell of an expensive project, but it's something I've felt needed doing for some time. And I don't want those yes-men over at the advertising agency involved. I want the kind of imagination I saw in your work."
"But…" Scott began.
"And I know that you have to be paid, Nelson. Now, Harry will tell you that I usually get what I want, Mister Nelson. So let's not waste time dickering. You've got some commitments. Break them. I'll pay whatever penalties you incur. And I'll pay you time and a half what you regularly charge. The photographer we use now charges us six hundred and fifty a day. Will a thousand a day cover your charge, Mister Nelson?"
"As you say, Mister Stachdt, you know how to get what you want. That's plus materials, of course."
"Naturally. And, Nelson, I'd like to use that model you had in the samples."
"Scott," Harry said quickly, "the board wants to use someone a little older and perhaps not quite as pretty for our catalogue."
"Well," Martin Stachdt said with a laugh, "she's not too pretty for us. How much would it cost to contract her for a year? Would a hundred thousand cover it? I want you to make her our Hurricane girl."
"Of course I can't speak for Missus Marsh," Scott replied slowly, "but I think you're certainly in the ball park."
"Fine," Mr. Stachdt responded. "May I assume we have a deal, then?"
"We have a deal, Mister Stachdt," Scott said, rising to shake the older man's hand.
"Why don't you drop by my office after lunch? There'll be a letter of intent waiting for you and a check. Shall we say an advance of twenty thousand to cover any penalties you may incur?"
"That will be fine, Mister Stachdt," Scott replied, still unable to believe that he wasn't dreaming.
He shook hands again with the industrialist. When Stachdt was gone, Scott grasped Harry Halliday's hand warmly and thanked him for all he had done. Harry waved his gratitude aside and sat down with Scott to establish a schedule for the Merrill catalogue.
At noon the two men went out for a quick lunch, and after lunch Scott drove down to the Hurricane building to pick up his letter of intent and check, both of which were waiting for him.
Scott held and fondled the check before he finally drove over to his bank and deposited it. How many days ago had her arrived in Dallas wondering if he would have to give up his dream for a career in photography? And last night hadn't he decided that he was on the verge of having to go back to his accounting profession? Then in a matter of a few short hours his entire life had changed!
The Merrill assignment alone was enough to be thankful for, and the Hurricane project was a photographer's dream. Not that it would be easy. Scott knew he'd work for his money, but he was guaranteed almost a year's work and at top dollar!
Scott arrived back at his apartment just before five and the first thing he did was make out a check for Sandra Marsh in the amount of two thousand dollars. It was a lot for two days work, but he felt he owed it to her. He wouldn't be using her for the Merrill work, yet she was instrumental in his getting the contract. And then there was Kathy. He saw Sandra drive in to the parking lot and he walked down to meet her at her apartment. There was a confused, disturbed look on her face that bothered him, but in his enthusiasm he let it go by.
"Hi!" he greeted. "Ready for some big news?"
"I… Uh, I guess we should have a talk," Sandra said a little uneasy.
"Wait until you hear my news," Scott beamed. "Oh, by the way, I have something for you," he added, handing her the check as she opened her door.
"Two thousand dollars!" Sandra exclaimed. "Oh Scott…"
"Sit down, Sandra," Scott said with a wide smile. "That's only the beginning. Let me tell you what happened today."
As calmly as he could, Scott gave Sandra a blow-by-blow description of his day. Her face dropped when he told her that Merrill wanted somebody less pretty for their catalogue, but when he told her of the Hurricane offer of a hundred thousand for a year Sandra's mouth dropped open.
"So tonight, Sandra, you and I are going to celebrate!" Scott concluded.
"A hundred thousand dollars!" Sandra exclaimed in awe.
"How about champagne and dinner at Cattleman's?" Scott offered.
"Well… Scott, we really need to talk…"
"Can't we talk over champagne and a thick steak at Cattleman's?" he asked with a laugh.
Sandra finally relented and nodded her head. He told her to change and he'd come back for her in half an hour. After the door closed behind him, Sandra wondered how she would talk to him about Kathy. What would she say? How should she handle it? The thought of working with him for a year troubled her. Sandra was very attracted to the handsome, easygoing man, and the thought of modeling was exciting. But there was Kathy…
Kathy had called her at work and asked permission to stay overnight with her friend, Lisa. Lisa was moving to Fort Worth and Kathy was going to help her pack.
Sandra sighed and went into her bedroom to change. Without really thinking, she chose her sexiest long dress – the one designed to be worn without a bra. Sandra had never worn it because she thought it was too daring. She was fluffing up her hair when she heard Scott's knock.
They drove out to Cattleman's and Scott told her that she was absolutely ravishing. He meant it. Sandra was extremely attractive and with her tits almost falling out of her gown she was very sexy.
Scott ordered champagne and they toasted his success over a shrimp cocktail. Sandra kept trying to think of a way to bring up the situation with Kathy, but Scott's enthusiasm was hard to cut through. By the time their two-inch filets arrived, Scott had ordered a second bottle of champagne and they both felt very light and gay.
When Scott asked her if she was going to accept the Hurricane offer, Sandra giggled like a young girl and told him yes without hesitation. They toasted her new career and Sandra Marsh was high for the first time in a long, long while.
She looked across the table at Scott and asked herself why the handsome bastard had to take Kathy! He was just the kind of man she had dreamed about for so long!
"Wow, that coffee helped!" Scott remarked as he finished his second cup. "I was flying high there for a while."
"I still am," Sandra commented with a laugh.
"Well, we deserve it!" Scott said, signaling for the check. "What say we head back to earth now?"
Scott paid the bill and took Sandra's hand to lead her to his car. As he opened the door for her, Scott had a clear view of Sandra's heavy, firm tits and he felt his balls twitch with desire.
They drove home in silence, both relaxed.