Shadow

The phone woke me from a focused stupor as my secretary let me know a call was on the line. Talking to whomever it was on the phone, anyone, would be a welcome relief from reading through the boring minutiae of the commercial pre-lease agreement in my hands.

"Paul Sturner on the phone for you, Max."

Paul Sturner? Now there was a blast from the past. Paul and I had worked together in the mid 90s when he was still running a large construction concern in midtown. He'd transferred out to the west coast well over ten years ago and we'd had minimal, though occasional, contact since that time. My curiosity was piqued as I picked up the handset.

"Paul? To whatever do I owe this pleasure?" I inquired.

"Max. Good to hear your voice again too, old friend. How are you?"

I replied and we spent the next few minutes talking small and catching up. Finally our conversation turned to the real reason for his call.

"Max, I'm calling to ask you a favor," he said.

"Paul, I believe the ledger balance is largely tipped in your direction, so anything I can do for you, just name it," I replied.

"Well, you may vaguely remember my daughter, Kim. She was probably only 10 or 11 when you met her, but she's all grown up now, as they tend to do, and she's going into her last year of architecture grad school at USC. She's a great kid and a terrific student, but she's in LA for the summer and having an impossible time finding an internship or summer job in the trade. She's working, but as a hostess in a restaurant. I really think she needs a little practical exposure to the whole development world and I was hoping I could ask you if you'd let her shadow you for a week in August. No need to pay her and she can stay at our little place on the Upper West Side. But I think she'd benefit greatly from seeing how you do business and how you work with professionals in her field. I know this is a big favor to ask, but..."

"Paul, I'd be happy to help. It would be my pleasure."

I vaguely remembered meeting Kim and her younger brother at some function or grand opening of some sort, but it was a long time ago; a very hazy memory and a passing nod at best. I recalled that Paul had adopted both of his children and they were of Asian descent; Vietnamese, if my memory served me. But, beyond that, there was little that I remembered.

"I know this is an imposition, Max, but if you could just let her accompany you to a few meetings and visit a few building sites, I think she'd get a good dose of reality from you. And it would get her out of LA and a sort of social rut I think she's in there. You'd be doing me a great service, Max."

"Say no more, Paul. Consider it done. Let me check my August and get back to you, or her. I'll try to find a week I'm here and doing some interesting things. I'm glad you called, really. I'm happy to help."

We updated contact information and he gave me Kim's info as well. It was left that she would contact me and we'd make arrangements directly. While I wasn't sure shadowing me for a week would be all that exciting, there were some interesting projects we were working on and a few meetings she might find interesting.

Our company is a major player in the development and management of some rather large projects in midtown Manhattan and elsewhere, so she would potentially get a very different perspective on the building game and how the design profession factors into the development of commercial projects. And, I most definitely owed Paul from some favors he'd done me well in the past.

The truth is I had always enjoyed being a mentor to younger people on the verge of entering careers related to design, development and construction. At fifty-one, I had spent my entire adult life in the field and had always felt it an honor and an obligation to give back to young people. My marriage, unfortunately, had not survived the time pressures and demands of my work life as I climbed the managerial ladder, but that's a story for another time. Even as I entered my fifties I loved what I did and it enveloped my life. My work had always been, and still is, the primary soul-satisfying aspect of my life. That said, as a successful bachelor about town, I had never had trouble attracting female companionship when I needed or wanted it. I'm tall, slim, and in good shape with salt and pepper hair that is a little too long. And I will admit to having always been attracted to younger women, especially as I'd aged.

Kim contacted me by email the next day and by then I had found a week that looked promising. She had a very polite, but congenial, writing style and she agreed to the week and left it that she would show up at the office at 9 a.m. that Monday. Little did I realize what lay in store for me.

At the precise time on the pre-arranged date my assistant stepped through my office door and showed Kim the way into my inner sanctum. I'm not sure what I had expected as I rose to come around my desk to meet and greet her, but I wasn't prepared for the beauty that swept around the door jamb and into my office with a noticeable air of confidence and aplomb. I stuttered as we walked to one another, our hands extended.

"K...Kim?" I stammered as she took my extended hand and squeezed. I'm quite sure I had a glazed look spread across my face.

"Hello, Mr. Stanfield. It's a pleasure. My father has told me so much about you," she said with a gorgeous smile. Her handshake told me right off the bat that this was a young woman who knew her way around social circles and was well aware of the power of her considerable beauty.

"The pleasure is all mine. But, please, call me Max. No formalities if we're going to be spending the next few days together," I replied, trying to hide my considerable glee at the prospect.

Kim stood about 5'-8" and had a slender graceful figure. While she was assuredly of Asian descent, there was definitely a mixing of European blood that gave her both an exotic air and a unique beauty. Her hair was jet black and her smooth silken skin had the light bronze quality of Southeast Asia. Her huge eyes were dark and fully showcased the mixed blood of her heritage, a blend of French and Vietnamese, as I came to find out.

She was dressed professionally and conservatively, yet still with a provocative air. I immediately noticed the black high heels – a true weakness of mine – and the perfect cut and fit of her rather tight skirt. The short jacket she wore hid her upper assets, but accentuated her very well-proportioned lower half. She appeared from my first survey to have a modest, yet noticeable, bust. Her stature and posture immediately reminded me of a dancer, which I learned was, in fact, a pastime of hers.

I showed her to a seat across from mine and we chatted for a bit. I gave her a general outline of our schedule during the coming week and explained how I would allow her to shadow me as much as possible, but there were times when I would need to call on an assistant to take the reins or find helpful chores in the office that she might do for us. She was totally accommodating and willing to do whatever we asked; she was just happy and thankful for the opportunity.

Over the next few days we spent quite a bit of time together. The two highlights of the week were a large meeting in the city with a potential partner on a major project in New Jersey and a day trip to Philadelphia to make a presentation to a group of investors for a project on the outskirts of the city. While Kim and I were together doing other things during the week, those two meetings were opportunities for her to really observe and see how I make my living and for us to spend some quality time together.

Each day she would arrive punctually, looking fresh as a daisy. Her wardrobe was perfect for her role, but even her professional work attire did little to hide the wonderful curves of her lithe body. She wore heels every day and besides adding inches to her stature, it clearly enhanced her already considerable sex appeal as well. Even in her tallest heels I still had several inches on her, but I loved the way heels brought her a little closer – almost eye to eye. I felt like, if it ever came to that, our bodies would align perfectly. I did not tire of looking at her or spending time with her. It was truly a delight.

And while she was certainly beautiful, she was clearly very smart as well. She spoke eloquently, listened attentively, and asked extremely intelligent and probing questions. She also had a very witty sense of humor; another weakness of mine when it comes to women. And, most impressively, she wasn't just on cruise control for a week with one of her father's old colleagues; she was taking advantage of the opportunity and soaking it all in.

She certainly turned heads at our Tuesday meeting. I introduced her as the daughter of an old and dear friend, there to shadow and observe. But as the meeting progressed, I could see several of the men around the conference room table stealing glances at her. I think she rather enjoyed the attention, but she also seemed to be engaged in the tenor of the meeting and the negotiations that were taking place. The main partner tried to engage Kim in the conversation, just because I think he wanted a chance to look at her and hear her speak. She was demur under the circumstances, but knew exactly how to respond, how to play her role as a shadow and remain in the background.

As we left the building I chided her.

"Well, if I'd known you were going to be such a distraction to all the guys around that table, I'm not sure I would have brought you," I teased.

"I'm sorry," she said sheepishly, but with a coy smile.

"Hey, listen, Kim. You have a power in your beauty. As long as you couple that with smarts and experience, your potential knows no bounds. You would have had those guys eating out of your hands, if need be. But always work from a point of knowing what you're talking about and use your beauty as reinforcement; don't fall into the trap of using it to cover a lack of hard work or understanding the subject at hand."

"Good advice, Max. Thank you. I'll remember that."

I had no doubt she would.

On Wednesday we took a day trip down to Philly for a presentation. We took the Acela train and relaxed comfortably on the ride down. It finally gave me a chance to find out more about her. She had done her undergraduate degree at Brown and then had taken a year off to travel to Southeast Asia in search of her roots. It was there that she had developed an interest in architecture and become inspired to follow this new found passion into a career. She was two years into the program and had one more year to go.

She told me how much she was enjoying her stay in New York; not only spending the days with me, but seeing old college friends in the evenings. She commented on how different New York was from Los Angeles and alluded to the fact that her father had been insistent that she make this trip.

Kim was a very tactile person and loved to touch as she talked, to make a point or draw your attention to something. I loved the way her touch would linger on my upper arm or elbow. And rather than just pull her fingers back, she'd let them graze down and away, maximizing the touch and the sensation. Her sensual touch had my imagination running wild.

She also had a mesmerizing way of whispering in my ear, in a way that made you feel like you were being taken into her confidence and told something secret and special. Her breathy voice and her closeness as she whispered sometimes overshadowed what she was actually saying. It wasn't so much what she was saying, it was the way she was saying it, inches from my ear, that riveted my attention.

I certainly found myself fantasizing about her: what she must be like in bed; what she would look like naked; what kinds of sounds she would make when she was aroused and approaching orgasm. She was a true flirt and knew just how to look at me with an expression that mixed humor, intelligence and blatant sexuality that made me want to melt. She was less than half my age, but was drawing me into the sensuality of her orbit with each passing day. And from what I could see she had this same effect on every male, and female, we came in contact with over the course of those several days.

Our trip to Philly was a wonderful day. The presentation went very well – I was well-prepared – and, once again, Kim was the subtle focus of several of the gentlemen and one rather attractive woman sitting around the table. While Kim didn't have much to say that day, she was attentive and sat absorbing the situation like a sponge. I must admit, I was proud to have her by my side that day and we walked out of the presentation with a spring in our steps.

"Oh, Max, that was fascinating. Thank you for bringing me along," she chirped as we left the offices and headed for the train station and the journey back to New York.

"My pleasure, Kim. I would have done this alone, if you weren't here. But it's nice to have the company, I must confess," I said.

She touched my arm the way she did and smiled. I noticed the stares and looks she received as we wended our way through the 30th Street Station. I think beautiful women are often oblivious to the looks they receive; perhaps a built-in defense mechanism developed over the years. Kim didn't seem to notice, or didn't let on, but I did.

The train trip back was uneventful, but pleasant. At one point Kim, seated at the window, put her hand on my leg to indicate she needed to visit the lavatory. I loved how she leaned her weight on me mid-thigh to get past me, her hand only inches from my cock. I watched her sashay down the aisle, as did several other admirers. I felt pretty damn lucky to have her traveling with me.

We spent part of Thursday together, but I let one of my assistants take her to a job site during the afternoon. She poked her head into my office toward the end of the day and seemed to have something on her mind.

"Max, I don't know how to thank you for this week. It's really been wonderful. I was wondering if, as a small token of my appreciation, you might consider having dinner with me tomorrow night?"

I felt my heart leap and the blood flow at the mere idea of having some time outside business hours with this lovely young lady. I acceded and asked her where I could meet her.

"Well, actually, I was thinking of eating in. Why don't you let me take care of everything? You just show up at 7:30 and leave everything in my hands," she said with what I perceived as a very sexual overtone.

How could I argue with that? She gave me an address on the Upper West Side, a number that indicated her father's "pied-a-terre" was only steps off of Central Park. I smiled and thanked her and, just as she turned to go, I added one additional comment.

"Kim, we do sort of acknowledge Casual Friday around here, so you can wear slacks tomorrow. If you want to," I added.

She grinned and nodded.

"Well, I'll do that then. See you tomorrow, Max," she said with a flourish as she turned and sauntered back into the office. I admired the rear view and her sexy walk. My thoughts turned to what might lay in store the following evening.

Kim showed up the next morning, her last, in a pair of the tightest black silk pants I think I'd ever seen. They had little zippers from the bottom up about 10 inches along the outside of her calf and were accented by a pair of strappy black heels. Her top was only a tee shirt, but it fit so nicely and showed off her slender physique. I wasn't the only one ogling her during the day. But all I could think of was that I was the lucky one who was going to be joining her for dinner that very evening. We smiled at one another knowingly several times during the day. I'm not sure she was having the same thoughts I was, but I liked to think I'm a pretty good judge of the opposite sex and I was getting a vibe from Kim that showed great promise for the evening about to unfold.

She poked her head around the corner of my open door toward the end of the day and smiled.

"I'm not going to thank you now," she cooed. "I'll do that later. See you at 7:30, Max."

"Anything I can bring, Kim?"

"Just yourself, Max. I've got it covered," she said jauntily.

"I bet you do. See you later."

She gave me a quick smile, flipped her long gorgeous locks over her shoulder and strode out of my office, knowing full well that I was watching her from behind. I was sad that our short week had come to an end; who knows when I'd cross paths with her again? But I smiled at the evening that lay just ahead.

I went home a little earlier than I might on a Friday night, showered, shaved, and changed into some casual clothes: a pair of black silk slacks and a very nice indigo blue shirt. I ran a comb through my long graying hair, spritzed on a dash of cologne and was ready to go. Her place was a good cab ride from my digs in the West Village, but the ride gave me a little time to collect my thoughts. I smiled to myself as I hopped out of the cab and looked at the lovely pre-war structure into which I was headed. Not bad digs for a guy who was only in New York City for business once every two months or so. Obviously Kim was living in style, but the notion somehow fit her.

I got off the elevator, full of anticipation, walked down the plush dimly lit hall to her door and knocked softly. A few seconds later the door opened and there she stood: a total study in innocent beauty. She looked absolutely radiant in a short, but flowing dress of purple silk and the tallest pair of heels I think I had ever seen. I noted the thin black strap that surrounded her ankles and smiled contentedly. Obviously, we were not going out anytime soon; these were heels designed for show, not for moving about in public. I just stood there for a moment with a stupid grin on my face, smiling at her. I was dumbstruck.

"Wow," was all I could mumble. "You look exquisite, Kim. Truly," I added as I crossed the threshold and handed her a lovely bouquet of flowers and an expensive Bordeaux.

"Max, I said you didn't need to bring anything," she said with an enormous smile; obviously pleased that I had ignored her request.

"I hate to show up empty-handed," I stated emphatically.

"Well, thank you. Come on in," she said, as she shut the door with a thick clunk of quality construction. She gave me a very nice, but softly polite, hug and the lovely floral scent of her perfume permeated my brain cells.

The apartment was a small one bedroom place, but totally tripped out. A high-end designer had most definitely been involved. The space had a minimalist feel, but screamed money at the same time. My attention was drawn to a killer view of the park though the French doors. The lighting was subdued, candles were lit everywhere, and soft music drifted coolly from hidden speakers. I wasn't sure what she had in store, but I felt like a plan was in place and I just needed to take my cues from her.

"I hope you like sushi," she said, more of a statement than a question, but my nod made her smile.

She strode into the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase and I watched her rear view. Kim had an absolutely intoxicating walk; her whole body moved and flowed in one sensual wave of motion; her hips seeming to tie everything together.

While the dress was tight on top with thin spaghetti straps resting on her delicate shoulders, the lower half hung and swayed in a lovely testament to the body hinted at, but hidden below. Her long black hair was up in a casual knot and this hair style accentuated her graceful neck and the lovely hoop earrings that dangled from her pert little ears. Her breasts, though small, seemed perfectly cradled in the bodice of the dress, the tops of her bosom looking soft and inviting. I could barely make out the subtle poke of her delicate nipples, slightly upturned and barely encased in the thin silk bodice.