Chapter 2
It was exactly two Saturdays after that night in my apartment, the first Saturday afternoon in November, when Donna Fletcher became Mrs. Paul Norman.
And, it was during inventory time in late December when Paul Norman, former stock boy and clerk, became assistant purchasing agent for Space Age Metals Corporation.
Jim Liggett walked through the plant with me and we stood near a huge radial drill press, watching the skeleton crew of production workers completing the counts on the raw forgings and assorted skid boxes of casting.
It was quitting time. Time to leave the shop and drive along the streets where soot and slush-blackened piles of snow ridged both sides of the industrial district avenues.
Time to walk up to our second-floor apartment on the quiet residential boulevard and get ready for New Year's Eve.
"Why don't you call it a day, Jim?" I said. "You look tired." I grinned at the burly, thin-haired purchasing agent. "We have had ourselves one hell of a busy first week working together."
My new boss-who was also my relative by marriage-just grunted and continued to watch a couple of guys loading unmachined castings back into a drum near one of the milling machines.
I knew he still wasn't happy with me. So big deal! He'd made his feelings damned clear about my appointment being on a strictly trial basis. If it didn't work out, I'd be back at my old lousy job of sorting work orders in no time flat. I knew it wouldn't bother old Jim if I fell flat on my ass. That wouldn't bother him at all.
When he called me into his office to talk about becoming his assistant, he'd been busy on one of the three phones on the side desk, which butted against his immense walnut executive style desk. He'd waved me into a chair and I'd sat down gingerly, being careful not to look too comfortable in the soft leather easy chair.
As I had planned, I played it dumb at first. He'd slammed the phone into its cradle and then he'd just sat there with his frosty blue eyes boring holes through me.
Finally, Jim had said, "My wife talked me into calling ydu in." He lit a cigar then, taking his time about it. "I want you to know that I'm doing this against my better judgment."
"I was a little surprised that you wanted to see me, sir," I said rather meekly. "I didn't...."
"Bullshit!" he snapped. "You knew damn well that I would call you in. Don't tell me you didn't get my wife's baby sister, Donna, to put her up to suggesting it. I'm not a goddam idiot, Norman."
He dragged on his cigar heavily, sending up billows of smoke and snorting like a dragon. I looked up at him and then back at the floor. That's when I changed my opinion of the big, florid-faced slob. He wasn't as affable or as dumb as I'd figured him to be when we'd shaken hands at the wedding. I had pegged him as a pushover during our brief chat during the reception following the ceremony. Apparently I had been somewhat mistaken.
"That isn't what I meant when I said I was surprised, Mr. Liggett," I said, trying to salvage the conversation. "I'm just surprised that you did decide to call me in and talk about the possibility of giving me a chance to work for you up here in purchasing. I realize how important the purchasing function is in an operation like Space Age Metals."
Some of the suspicious dislike faded then and the old guy slowed down on his smoke production. He wasn't any happier about the situation, but by coming out and admitting I'd put Donna up to hinting to Liggett's wife that I was a bright, ambitious guy who deserved a shot at the assistant purchasing agent job, I'd managed to win the first round of the fight.
I'd known then that I was in. Maybe Jim Liggett didn't like it very much and I sure as hell wasn't in so far that I couldn't get shoved out quickly, but it was a beginning. I knew then that I'd have a shot at the job and that was all I needed. I figured that in another three months, I'd be ready to launch phase three of my own personal "shoot for the moon" program.
Phase One, marrying Donna, and Phase Two, getting the assistant purchasing agent job through her sister, had worked perfectly. There was no reason to believe Phase Three should be any different.
After that, I'd have it made. At least until I figured a sure-fire get-rich-quick plan with minimum risks for me. I was shooting for the moon in my own way, and I meant to have it all!
Of course, Myra was part of the "all" that I was after. I never really loved Donna, and I guess she realized that soon after we were married. She did what I asked her to do, though, probably in an attempt to win back my affection. She couldn't win back something she never had. Nonetheless, she went to her sister about getting me the assistant purchasing spot. And she did a lot of other things to try to hold us together.
It was no good, though, because Myra was the only woman I could think about. I guess that was because I was around her so much at the office. She worked in the typing pool, but for most of every week, she worked in the personnel office directly across the hall from purchasing.
The first time I had seen Myra, which was the first day she came to work for Space Age Metals, I knew I had to have her. She was the company's first black typist and the most sexually attractive woman I had ever encountered. There had been some racially tainted talk during Myra's first few days with the company, but nothing serious. It didn't take the girls long to realize that she was as good as any of them at her job-and better than most. The men, both in the plant and in the office complex, knew a sex bomb when they saw one, and Myra was one without a doubt.
Frank Weston, a black guy who worked in accounting, smiled knowingly when he saw the lustful looks on the white guys' faces every time Myra walked by. Frank was married to a great girl, but it was easy to see that Myra's beauty and animal attraction had the expected effect on him, too.
Myra was a big woman. She stood about 5 foot 8 or 9, and her body was magnificently proportioned. Her 42-inch bust was her most predominant feature. Her giant breasts stood out proud and firm, attracting attention everywhere she went. In addition, she was a truly attractive woman. Not pretty like Donna, and not beautiful by our Hollywood-formed standards.
Her smooth, flawless skin was the color of deep, bitter chocolate.
Her hair, however, was straight. Black as midnight in hell, shiny as a sleek thoroughbred horse, and straight. It flowed down gracefully to the middle of her back. Soft and silky looking, Myra's straight, jet-black hair usually was the second thing a man noticed about her.
Flat stomach and lushly flaring hips were hers too. The miniskirts she wore displayed her shapely legs to their best advantage. Her hips swiveled gracefully with every long stride she took and eyes were sure to follow.
A week or so after she came to Space Age Metals, I asked Myra for a date. Actually, I invited her to have a drink after work on a Friday night and she accepted. This was several months before I devised my three-stage "moon shot" and a long time before I considered marrying Donna-or anyone else for that matter.
I took Myra to a dark little suburban bar that first time. We sat at a small corner table, lighted by a tiny candle. The combination of a racially mixed couple and the striking beauty of Myra attracted a little attention when we entered the place, but it didn't bother either of us. Myra was used to being looked at with wanton lust by men, black and white, and I was too excited about being with her to worry about the stares of a few bar flys.
At our corner table, we had sipped our dry martinis and talked about a lot of things. The company we worked for, race relations, religion, Vietnam and baseball were a few of the topics I remember discussing.
When we touched on sex, Myra smiled at me knowingly. She realized from the moment I asked her out that I hoped to lay her that night.
"Let's get something clear, Paul," Myra said looking at me with her dark sultry eyes. "I don't sleep with clerks." She paused a moment to let her statement sink in. Then she took a sip of her drink and looked me in the eyes again. "I like you and all, baby, but I have a rule. I only sleep with guys who can do me some good ... or guys I'm in love with at the moment. Unfortunately, Paul, you don't fit into either category ... yet."
Somewhat taken back by her frankness, I managed a smile of my own. I clinked my martini glass against hers and said: "Let's drink to the time when I can qualify for the main event."
"I'll drink to that, Paul," Myra said with a sparkle in her black eyes. "I'm glad you understand and respect my position."
I may have understood and respected her position, but I didn't like it. I wanted Myra right then and there so badly I could taste the desire. She really played it cool, though, and there wasn't anything I could have done, except maybe rape her. Force wasn't my bag, though, so my only recourse was to wear down her resistance to clerks or get promoted or make her fall in love with me. Sounded like a pretty complicated order to me. But every time I looked at Myra's luscious body and saw the deep dark valley between her breasts that was revealed by her low cut dress, I knew I would do anything I had to do in order to have her.
When I took her home that evening-in time for her to dress for her Friday-night date-she let me kiss her in the car. I put my hand on her huge breast, and felt the soft, dark flesh supple and tempting under my fingers. When I slipped my hand inside her blouse and fondled her, Myra pulled away. "Remember, Paul," she warned. "Let's not start something we can't finish properly."
My rod was hard and aching to be in her, but I knew I didn't have a chance that night. We kissed again and she got out of the car.
That night I went to a bar where I spent a lot of time-and money-and did some serious thinking. Wanting Myra was certainly a factor, but it wasn't the most important facet of the decision I made at the bar that night. I decided I didn't want to be a clerk any longer than it would take for me to move up.
It was really just a stroke of luck that I decided on using Donna Fletcher to help me get ahead. She was at the bar that night with a date. She nodded to me once when she and her boyfriend were walking back to their table from the dance floor. It took me a few minutes to recall exactly who she was. Then it hit like lightning.
The sister-in-law of the company's purchasing agent! That was the job I was after and she could probably help me get it.
As you know, she did.