In Laymon's Terms

“Here’s my letter spelling out the terms of Bardwell Foods’ offer to you. But I was sure that you, with your devotion to the company, would accept the position. So I’ve taken the liberty of having your things moved into the corner office over there.”

Ernie made a conscious effort to close his gaping jaw. Faces began peering out of cubicles. Bardwell turned on Witkowski.

“Now get out of here, you damned idiot, before I call security.”

“Please don’t fire me,” blubbered Witkowski. “Ernie—Mr. Davis—I’m really sorry. Let me have your old job. I’ll make it up to you, I swear...”

“Well, Ernie, what do you say? Your first executive decision...Do you keep Witkowski on, or do you fire him?” Bardwell gazed intently at Ernie. This is happening...This is really happening to me, Ernie thought. “Security!” he barked.

In an instant, two security guards were dragging Witkowski down the hall.

“Pleeeease, Ernieeee...” The voice echoed and faded as the guards took him away.

“Let me show you to your new office, Ernie. We’ll discuss some of your brilliant ideas.”

“Yes, sir—I mean, Walt.”

He settled back into the buttery soft leather chair. His head was still spinning as he stared at the letter. Walter Bardwell—oops, it was Walt now—had tripled his salary and given him a company car. An Acura, no less. Leather and a sunroof.

Jesus, now I can move out of that crummy shithole apartment. Take a real vacation. Start building a portfolio.

How the fuck did this happen?

The words he’d written a couple of weeks ago rose in his memory. His hopes and dreams that he’d sent to the Reverend Swann. I want a promotion. I want a decent raise. I want to see my boss get his ass fired.

“Holy shit,” he said to himself.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” came a feminine voice. Beth Arnold, Witkowski’s secretary, came into his office.

Wait, no, she’s my secretary now—not to mention the woman of my dreams.

She closed the door and smiled at him. She was a beauty, with red hair and blue eyes and fine pale skin just the way he liked it.

She’s never smiled at me before. She’s never even acknowledged my existence before. Now, here she is. Smiling. At me. And all I can do is stare at her like a moron.

Her smile widened.

“I hear you’re my boss now, Mr. Davis.” She came around the desk and stood behind him. He could smell her perfume, warm and musky.

“Call me Ernest. Please.” His voice was thick.

“All right, Ernest.” Her hands came down on his shoulders. She leaned forward and pressed her breasts against the back of his neck. “What can I do for you?” she purred.

Her face, with its luscious full lips, was inches from his.

“Go out with me sometime,” he managed to stammer.

“How about tonight?” She pressed more tightly against him.

Jesus, all I want to do is whirl around and tear off her blouse, fill my hands with those ripe, full breasts. I want her right here, right now, on the carpet. But, after all, today is my first day on the job. Maybe I’d better not try to do everything at once.

“Sure,” he said. “After work? T.G.I. Friday’s, maybe?” He was pleased that his voice was almost normal.

“Sounds yummy,” she breathed into his ear. She slid her hand slowly down over his chest to his crotch and gave him a squeeze that nearly made his eyes pop out of his head.

Then she stood up and walked out, leaving his office door open.

Everyone in the department heard him moan.

A month passed. Every morning he saw the same old Ernie in the mirror—well, maybe there was a little more hair and a little less flab. But then, he would drive his new Acura to work. He had his own parking space near the front door of the office building. He was Walt Bardwell’s new protege, golf partner, and best friend. Everyone knew who he was now, even the security guard at the employees’ entrance. “Hello, Mr. Davis,” he’d say every morning.

Everything he did at work was pure gold. When he sat down in that big leather chair in his office, it was as if he became a business genius. His ideas boosted productivity and sales by 32% in two weeks. The Wall Street Journal ran a feature piece on him as Bardwell Foods’ new wunderkind.