YPA: Your Privacy Assured/YPA.ISO/text/jonsjo.txt

Text File | 1995-02-14 | 25.9 KB | 761 lines

                      Jonathan's Introduction to Business
                                   Chapter 1

    Jonathan landed at LaGuardia Airport with two suitcases and a duffle bag.

It was 4:30 PM on a sweltering July Friday, and he had to bulldoze his way

through the crowd rushing to get out of town for the weekend.  When he reached

the taxi stand the line was long and their were few taxis in sight.  Having

been warned by his aunt he ignored the "limo" drivers offering to take him

anywhere he wanted.  He decided to share a cab since the line was shorter and

appeared to move much more quickly.  When the dispatcher asked for passengers

going to the Upper West Side Jonathan stepped forward, bypassing about ten

people in line.  He found himself standing next to a stunning woman wearing a

short black silk dress.  She was tall with auburn hair that flowed softly over

her shoulders.  Her eyes were hidden by oversized sun glasses.

    The dispatcher led them to the next cab and helped the woman with her

luggage as Jonathan threw his bags into the trunk.  He entered the cab from the

street side.  When the other door opened Jonathan's eyes were drawn to the

woman's long shapely legs.  As she slid into the seat next to him her dress

rode up above the tops of her black stockings.  Her firm well tanned thighs

were framed by the thin black straps of a garter belt.  The cab was well

air-conditioned and the woman sighed as she settled into her seat tugging her

hem into position.

    Removing her sun glasses she opened her Mark Cross briefcase, took out her

leather planner, and began to leaf through the pages.  After a few minutes she

began to make notes.  Jon couldn't help but stare at her classic profile, green

eyes and perfect tan.  Her lipstick exactly matched the rich red lacquer of her

fountain pen, which she rested on her lip, apparently lost in concentration.

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.  After a few minutes she

returned the planner and pen to her briefcase and looked up.

    She looked over to Jonathan and quickly examined him, scanning from head to

foot.  It was obvious her alert gaze missed nothing.  Taking in his khaki

pants, green La Coste shirt, Sperry Docksiders, and lost expression she

smiled.  " Welcome to New York, is this your first trip?" she asked.  "Yes," he

answered, " I'm hoping to find a job here."  "A new graduate?" she inquired.

"Yes, Dartmouth, Art History."  "You look like an athlete, were you involved in

any sports at school?" she probed.  "I ran the 400 meters in track".  "Any

good?" she challenged.  "Our 1600 meter relay team set the Ivy record. I

anchored."  "Hmmmm, you are an athlete."

    Reaching across she offered her hand, "Joan Simmons".  "Jonathan Richards,

I'm glad to meet you," he answered as he took her slender hand.  "What kind of

work are you looking for Jonathan?" she asked.  "I'm hoping to get involved in

gallery management or perhaps work for one of the auction houses," he

responded.  "That sounds like an unusual career for an athlete, what made you

interested in art?" she continued.  "Well, my aunt works for Sotheby's.  She

got me interested in art and the art business."  "I do some business with

Sotheby's on occasion, what's your aunt's name?"  "Lisa Scott, she concentrates

on Oriental Art - wood blocks prints and the like."  "I'm afraid I don't know

her."  "She is in Tokyo for the next six months working with a Japanese

dealer.  She's letting me use her apartment while she's away."  "How lucky you

are, finding an apartment can be the most difficult part of living in New

York."

     They talked about art as the cab traveled through Queens and over the

Triborough Bridge into Manhattan.  She told him that she was particularly

interested in photography.  As they turned west on 96th Street the driver

asked for their destinations.  "312 West 73rd," they both answered at

once.  "My that is a coincidence," she said "we'll be living in the same

building".  She stared at Jonathan with renewed interest.  They continued

their conversation about art as the cab drove across town.  Before they

knew it the cab had pulled up at the building.  "I'll make a deal with

you.  I'll put this on my expense account if you'll carry up my bags?" she

offered. "Sure," he answered.  She paid the fare then said, "I'm in the

Penthouse".  With that she headed into the building.

     Jonathan waited at the curb, perspiring in the heat, as the driver

took out his two suitcases and duffle bag.  These were followed by her

four large pieces.  The building was a five story townhouse that had been

converted to apartments.  Fumbling through his pockets he found the keys

his aunt had sent him, and opened the front door.  Propping the door open

with his duffle bag he brought his bags into the hallway and then went

back for the rest.  It took him two trips, since hers were not only large,

but one was extremely heavy.  Grabbing his duffle he stepped into the

building as the door closed behind him.  Dragging the bags behind him he

shuffled to the small elevator and pressed the call button.  When it

arrived he pushed all of the bags inside.

     His aunt lived on the third floor, so he decided to drop off his bags

before delivering hers.  When the elevator arrived at the third floor he

propped the door open with the largest of her suitcases and found himself

facing his aunt's apartment, 3-A.  He fumbled with the keys, first finding

the Medeco key for the deadbolt, then opening the slam lock.  Inside the

apartment was sweltering.  The windows were closed and his aunt had been

gone for almost a month.  He walked into a short hallway with the bathroom

on the right and passed the kitchen and dining area on the left.  The

living room was very large with a brick fireplace and a large bay window.

He walked over to the window.  In the semicircular area of the bay he had

a clear view of Riverside Park and across the North River to New Jersey.

Reaching down he turned the air-conditioner on high.

     Exploring the apartment he found two bedrooms, the larger obviously

used by his aunt had a queen size bed, a dresser, and a large built in

closet.  A small window faced onto 73rd Street.  Stepping back through the

living room he went to the other bedroom which his aunt obviously used as

an office.  Against the front wall was a large desk with a comfortable

executive chair.  On a table next to the desk there was a personal

computer and laser printer.  One wall was covered with bookshelves.  The

other wall had a window facing onto an alley, with a colletion of

photographs hung on either side.  He saw a picture of himself in his track

uniform.  It was a print of a picture taken by a NY Times photographer

when his relay team had set the Ivy League record at the Penn Relays.  He

began to think back to that day.  The large cheering crowd at Franklin

Field, ... over 40,000 people ..., he began to daydream.

     Hearing a sound beside him he saw Joan standing in the doorway

glaring at him.  "So here you are!  I thought we had an agreement?  You

were supposed to bring up my bags.  You've kept me waiting for almost half

an hour!  Even worse you've tied up the only elevator in the building.

Didn't you hear the buzzing?  I came down and found my bags sitting on the

elevator with the door propped open and you daydreaming.  Don't you know

this is New York?  How could you leave my things unguarded like that?

What's the matter with you?  You even left your aunt's door unlocked!

Haven't you ever heard of crime?"  "Gee, I'm sorry.  I guess I lost track

of time.  I saw my picture there and couldn't help remembering," Jon

answered.

     "Dreaming of past glory?  That is no excuse.  If you can't pay

attention to what your doing you'll never make it in this town.  Now hurry

and bring up my bags, and don't dawdle," she commanded as she turned on

her heel and strode out of the room.  He could hear her heels as she

walked to the elevator.  Following her out, he turned to lock the door,

then stepped into the elevator with her.  She stared straight ahead

ignoring him.  When the elevator opened on the fourth floor she stepped

out and opened the door with a small electronic key device, about the size

of a lighter.  As she strode into her apartment he dragged her suitcases

out of the elevator into the small hallway.  Grabbing two of the bags he

followed her into the apartment and dropped them in her foyer.  He then

turned back for the other bags.  Depositing them with the others he turned

to leave but was stopped by her command, "Where do you think you're

going?"

     "Here are your bags," he answered.

     "So your going to just dump them on my doorstep?  What impertinence.

First, you keep me waiting, then you just throw them in here.  You have a

few things to learn young man.  We had a deal.  I lived up to my part of

the bargain now I expect you to live up to yours.  Bring those bags

upstairs."

     "OK."

     Grabbing two of the bags he followed her up the interior staircase to

the second floor of her duplex penthouse.  At the top of the stairs was a

small bedroom.  He followed her past a short arched alcove that led to a

closed door, then into her vast bedroom.  Adjoining it was a luxurious

bathroom done in white marble.

     "Put that suitcase on the bed and hang the garment bag in the

closet," she ordered.  Following her orders he fumbled with the garment

bag.  Undoing the snaps he opened it and searched for the hook.  It was in

a zippered pouch near the top of the bag.  He hooked it to the ring on top

of the bag, stepped into the walk-in closet, and hung it on the rod.  As

he looked around he couldn't help noticing her clothes.  Their were dozens

of designer dresses, along with silk blouses, skirts, slacks, and numerous

sweaters.  But what really caught his eye was the back wall of the

closet.  It was covered with leather outfits in a variety of colors,

although most were either black or red.

     "Hurry up and get the other bags," she ordered.

     "OK."

     He turned and hurried downstairs.  As he picked up the last two

suitcases he noticed that one was different from the others.  It was very

large and very heavy, a small steamer trunk covered in black leather.  The

other suitcases were a matched set of Hartman luggage.  He strained as he

carried the last two bags up the narrow stairs.  At the top he was met and

told to put the leather trunk in a recess of the alcove.  He then followed

her back to her bedroom with the last suitcase.

     "Put that one on the bed," she commanded.  "I think we need to have a

little talk.  Why don't you go downstairs and wait for me while I change.

There is some cold Chardonnay in the refrigerator.  Open it and pour

yourself a glass.  Then wait for me."

     "Alright," he answered as he turned to leave the room.  In the corner

of his eye he could see her mirror and saw her begin to lift her dress

over his head as he headed downstairs.  At the bottom of the stairs

he turned into her living room.  The large space was painted a bright

white.  A vivid abstract rug covered the oak floor.  A white marble

fireplace and a bay window were the room's most notable features.  After a

quick glance around he headed for the kitchen.  It was through the large

dining room which apparently replaced the dining area and second bedroom

in his aunt's apartment below.

     The kitchen was very large, for a Manhattan apartment, and very

modern.  The counters had all the latest gadgets.  Opening the

refrigerator he found it fully stocked with fresh fruit and vegetables, a

supply of cheeses and cold drinks.  Laying on the second shelf he found a

bottle of  1987 Kendall-Jackson Vintners Reserve Chardonnay.  He took it

and began searching through the cabinets.  In the center cabinet he found

a selection of wine glasses.  Below it, in a drawer, was a corkscrew.

Opening the bottle he poured himself a glass and returned to the living

room.  Upstairs he could hear the shower running.

     The air conditioning was running full blast and the apartment was

very cool, at least in the living room.  He sat on the large black leather

couch facing the fireplace. Putting his glass on the white marble coffee

table in front of him, he examined the room.  Above the fireplace was a

large abstract painting with bold geometric shapes in black, white, and

red.  On either side of the fireplace were black and white photographic

prints of different men in leather outfits, bound with chains.  She had

said she liked some of the more avant-garde current photographers, so he

didn't think too much about them.  As he drank his wine he couldn't help

but look at them.  Something about the photos intrigued him, but the also

made him nervous.  One of the men appeared to be in great pain, but it was

also an expression of near ecstasy.

     After a time he heard footsteps on the staircase and saw her bare

feet descend the stairs.  He turned to stand as she entered the room.  She

was wearing a white silk kimono with a wide black sash belted around her

waist.  The lapels of the kimono crossed at her chest and the shape of her

firm, full breasts was apparent.  She was not wearing a bra so  her

nipples and the shadow of her aureole was just discernible through the

thin silk.  "Get me a glass of wine," she commanded.  Her long raven hair

was still wet and was combed straight.

     He stood and went to the kitchen.  When he returned she was sitting

on one of the leather Eames chairs with her feet tucked beneath her.

Offering her the glass of wine he waited for her to take it.  She looked

into his eyes as she took the glass, tasted it, and set it on the table

next to her.  "Why don't you sit down," she suggested.  He sat on the

couch and faced her, waiting for her to speak.

     "You seem like an attractive and intelligent young man," she began,

"but, you obviously have a lot to learn.  New York is not a sheltered

campus in New Hampshire.  If you expect to live and work here you have to

learn to think, and to fulfill your agreements - without daydreaming.

Now, what did you think you were doing?" she asked.

     "I don't know.  I guess I saw the picture and remembered the day it

was taken.  I must have lost track of the time," he answered.

     "That is no excuse.  Did you realize that while you were daydreaming

someone could have been stealing my things?  Did you know there are some

older people in this building.  You tied up the only elevator for nearly

half an hour.  Don't you have any sense of responsibility to others?  What

are they teaching at Dartmouth these days?" she demanded.

     "I'm sorry.  I'll be more careful next time," he apologized.

     "I should hope so," she countered.  Taking another sip of wine she

looked at him thoughtfully for a minute. "Do you know anyone here in New

York?" she queried.

     "No.  Only my aunt, but she will be away until next January.  A few

of my friends from school will be coming in September.  I wanted to get a

jump on the job hunt," he answered.

     "But you don't know anyone here at the moment?  At least not until

September?" she probed.

     "No one," he affirmed.

     "Did you have any plans tonight ... or this weekend?" she inquired.

     "No, I just thought that I'd get to know the city a little.  You know

walk around, see the sights."

     "Why don't you join mr for dinner tonight?  We'll go out and

celebrate your arrival in New York.  How does that sound?" she asked.

     "Gee, thank you, I'd love it," he answered.

     "Fine.  Why don't you go and get settled in.  Come back here at eight

o'clock ... sharp," she said, dismissing him.

     He nodded, got up and went to the door.  When she did not follow he

let himself out.  The door closed behind him automatically.  He heard the

lock click shut electronically.  Back in his aunt's apartment he had a

chance to look around.  On the kitchen table he saw a note.

     "Dear Jonathan," it read, "Welcome to New York.  I hope you had a

nice flight.  The super is forwarding my mail for me.  The phone is

working, but please just let the answering machine pick up.  Wait to see

if its for you before you answer.  I've emptied the two top left drawers

in my dresser for you, and you can use the left side of the closet.  The

sheets on the bed are clean, and you'll find towels in the linen closet.

I'm sure you are looking forward to being a young bachelor in New York.

Feel free to have any friends over if you like dear.  Anyway I have to

run.  Good luck.  I'll call in a few weeks to see how you are doing.

Love, Aunt Lisa."

     Taking his suitcases into the bedroom he began to unpack.  It only

took a few minutes.  He hung his two suits in the closet, but they clearly

needed to be pressed.  When he finished he looked at his watch and

realized he only had thirty minutes.  He didn't want to be late.  Tearing

off his clothes and grabbing his shaving kit he headed into the bathroom.

Hurriedly, he shaved and brushed his teeth.  He turned on the shower to

let the water heat up.  After adjusting the temperature he stepped into

the shower, quickly lathered, and rinsed off.  Grabbing a towel from the

closet he hurriedly wiped himself dry.  Returning to the bedroom he pulled

on a pair of jockey shorts and a clean pair of chinos.  He looked through

his drawer and selected a blue Oxford shirt.  Slipping his feet into his

moccasins he checked his watch.  It was 7:57 P.M.  Brushing his hair back

with his fingers he headed out the door, locking it behind him.  Taking

the stairs two at a time he was knocking at the door at exactly 8:00 P.M.

     He stood waiting for a minute, then the door opened electronically.

"Come in and have a seat.  I'll just be a second," he heard her voice from

the intercom speaker.  As he stepped into the apartment the door closed

behind him.  Walking into the apartment he sat on the couch to wait.

After a few minutes he heard her walking down the stairs.  She was wearing

a short, simple but very elegant, black silk dress with a deep v neck that

demonstrated her ample decolletage.  On her feet she wore black patent

leather pumps with three inch high heels over black silk stockings.  A

dazzling emerald and diamond necklace set in white gold with matching

bracelets and earrings completed her outfit.

     "Hello again," she began, then seeing his outfit said, "No.  That

just won't do.  We are going out to celebrate tonight, and that outfit

just will not do.  Don't you have a suit?" she inquired.

     "Yes, but they are pretty crushed," he responded.

     "Let me see them," she ordered.

     Jonathan hurried downstairs and returned with both of his suits on

hangers.  Taking the hangers from him she began to examine his suits.

Holding up the blue one she said, " Try this one on."  "Where should I

change," he asked.  "You can change in here," she answered leading him up

the stairs into the small bedroom, flipping the light switch as they

entered.  Jonathan was struck by the strong scent of a floral perfume.

The room was decorated with a very feminine pink print wallpaper.  It had

a double bed with a full canopy trimmed with white lace.  The bed was

covered with a pink and white coverlet with matching lace trimmed

pillows.  Sitting in the large Victorian armchair she asked, "What are you

waiting for?"  "Aren't you going to wait outside," he pleaded.  " Don't be

silly.  We are in a hurry, we have a reservation to keep," she countered.

     Blushing, he slipped off his shoes and unzipped his pants.  Then

bowing to the inevitable he slid them down his legs.  He folded his slacks

and laid them neatly on the bed.  Picking up the suit he took the trousers

and slipped them on.  Then stepping into his shoes he pulled on the jacket

and turned to face her.  After examining him carefully for a minute she

reached her decision.  "You look like a slob.  Take that suit off and wait

here for me," she concluded as she left the room.  Removing the suit he

stood waiting for her in his briefs and shirt.

     After a few minutes she returned carrying several hangers.  "This

Tuxedo should fit you," she said hanging it on a hook on the closet door.

"Take off that shirt and put this one on," she ordered.  Removing his

shirt he stood facing her in just his jockey shorts.  He took the dress

shirt which was white with ruffled sleeves and lace trimming.  As he tried

to slip it on he realized that it buttoned in the back.

     Turning to confront her he said accusingly, " But this is a woman's

shirt."  "Yes, of course it is.  Did you think I'd have a man's Tuxedo?"

she rejoined.  "If you are going to be in the art world your going to have

to give up some of your bourgeois notions.  I had thought that we could go

out and celebrate in style tonight.  Perhaps this whole thing is a bad

idea?  If you won't let me help you, if you won't trust me, then maybe you

should just leave?" she challenged.

     " I didn't mean that. Its just I was surprised, you know?" he

answered.

     "No, I don't know," she countered "will you do as I say form now on?

Not question every little thing I do?  If you can't agree to that I want

you to get out now and not waste my time."

     "I'll do as you ask. I do want to stay," he pleaded.

     "All right, you can stay.  Now hurry and get dressed," she directed.

     He to put his arms into the blouse then turned asking, "could you

button me up please?"  Stepping behind him Joan pulled the thin material

together and began to button it.  "That's better.  Actually, this fits you

pretty well.  The ruffled sleeves give room for your arms and shoulders.

It is tight in the waist though," she observed. "We may have to put you on

a diet."

     When he turned to put on the pants she stopped him and went to the

dresser.  "I don't have any dress socks so these will have to do," she

said handing him a pair of black silk stockings.  He paled as he took

them, then sat on the end of the bed in resignation.  Slowly he began to

pull one up his right leg.  He was surprised at how soft and sensuous it

felt against his skin.  As he stretched the other stocking over his left

leg he began to get stimulated.  Noting his response she observed

pointedly, "Now that isn't too painful is it?  Why don't you stand up so

that I can check the fit?"

     Slowly he complied, and stood facing her chair.  Softly she stroked

her hands up his calves and thighs stretching the flimsy material taught.

He couldn't contain his arousal any longer, his manhood thrust visibly in

his briefs.  Ignoring his dilemma she looked at him and said, " All that

body hair is very unsanitary, we'll have to do something about it.  Those

stockings will be very uncomfortable without something to hold them up."

Returning to the dresser she removed a pink satin garterbelt and handed it

to him.  "Do you know how to put this on?" she asked.

     "No," he answered.

     "I will only show you once," she told him.  Pushing him in front of

the mirror on the closet door she pulled the belt around his waist and

showed him how to operate the clasp in front, then rotate it to the back.

She then demonstrated how to line up the garters and slip one of the

grippers over the stocking top.  "You do the rest," she instructed.  When

he finished he looked up and saw himself standing in a frilly blouse

wearing black stockings and a pink garter belt.  His jockey shorts looked

strangely out of place.

     "Now hurry up and finish dressing," she ordered.

     Turning back to the bed he picked up the trousers and began to step

into them.  Then he noticed that there were no pockets and the zipper was

supposed to go in the back.  Turning them around he began to slip them

on.  He noticed that they were of a very light weight wool material but

were fully lined.  Tucking the blouse into the pants he pulled them over

his hips.  Reaching behind he clumsily tried to pull up the zipper.

Afraid that he would rip them, she stepped behind him to pull the zipper

closed.  The pants were very tight, and, because they were cut for a

woman, they squeezed his buttocks and painfully crushed his genitals.  He

groaned as she buttoned the waist.  The trousers fit like a second skin.

     She then handed him the scarlet cummerbund which he quickly fastened

around his waist.  "Can you tie a bowtie?" she asked.  When he answered

negatively she stepped behind him and tied the matching bow tie around his

neck.  Returning to her chair she told him to put on the jacket so she

could see how he looked.  "Stand up straight," she ordered.  "Actually,

you look quite handsome," she concluded, "but, there is one final touch.

Put these on, " she commanded.  He took the shoes she handed him and

examined them.  They were black patent leather formal pumps, but they had

two and one-half inch heels.  Slipping them on his feet they were long

enough but because they were narrow and pointed they were quite painful.

"Perfect!" she announced, "Now go look at yourself in the mirror."

     Findidng it difficult to balance on the high heels he shuffled over

to the mirror to examine his appearance.  Actually, he looked quite good.

Without looking very closely it was difficult to tell that anything was

amiss.  The Tuxedo did have a rather flamboyant cut, and the shirt was a

little too frilly, but all in all it was passable.  Even the high heels of

his pumps were hidden by the pronounced break in the pants.  "Hey this

isn't too bad," he concluded.

     "I told you, you'll have to trust me," she rejoined.  "Now, lets go,

I have a car waiting downstairs.  You'd better take my arm," she

suggested.  Balancing himself with her help they headed downstairs.  She

took a small black purse as they left the apartment.  While he summoned

the elevator she locked the door electronically.