It was one of those days, when it started so badly, that it could only get better!

She had awoken in total and absolutely complete darkness, unable to see anything at all, but able to hear some of the worst and most aggressive rain that Houston had to offer. She had stumbled from her bed, uncomfortably treading on an upturned stiletto and banging her shin into a stool. Thankfully, the stool had been well padded. At the window, everything had been as black as she had ever seen and she had assessed from the lack of any light anywhere, that the electricity had failed for the whole neighbourhood.

She had stood there transfixed at the horrific weather, until from the lights of a passing car, she was able to read her watch. She had been already forty minutes late!

Dressing had owed much more to G-Tech, than anybody from the fashion industry, as she had struggled to find a suitable outfit to meet a client, she had been assured the day before was very important. And she had still to make a two-hour drive to the other side of the city for an appointment at nine!

She had not made it in time!

It wasn't that, after she had struggled to open the garage door by hand in a high wind and had finally made it on the road, that she had had to return, as she was wearing odd shoes! Or the fact, that she had laddered a stocking in all the haste, and had had to divert by a 7-11. Or that she had nearly crashed, whilst fixing her make-up in the driving mirror. No! She had done something she rarely, if ever did. She had got well and truly lost!

***

Now, as she sat upright at the computer in her comfortable and well-organised home office, sipping a cup of proper Kenyan coffee, she wondered what the fuss had been about.

Power and order had been restored and all the clocks, myriad timers and her computer agreed that it was now just after one. As she had been expected to have had lunch with the client and he had been very sorry to called away, she would now have a couple of uninterrupted hours. She would now write the notes of the meeting, make herself a salad and perhaps even browse a bit on the Internet for her own enjoyment. She would then drive the mile or so to her office for a four-thirty meeting with her team. And even then she knew it would be a routine and uncontroversial get-together, which would probably be followed by a quiet social drink!

The client had been one of the most charming men, she had ever met and his attitude completely put her at ease, despite her lateness and somewhat wet appearance.

He would also be the sort of client, that the Division she ran in the Bank would be pleased to have.

***

His house had been unassuming to say the least, although it was in good condition, well painted and surrounded by a neat, but small garden. It was very much that of a staid, middle-manager, who had worked too long at the same level in the same company and it was in a neighbourhood to match. Safe, but boring! The car on the drive was a good Cadillac, but it was at least ten years old. Or so she thought! But then cars weren't her strong point. So long as they went, when you filled them with gas and stopped, when you pressed the brake, they were just fine!

She had almost thought, that this must be a joke, played on her by the local manager. But then she knew, that David Carlson, was a man of serious thoughts. Although he might joke about how boring, correct, serious and absolutely in control of her job, she was, that he would never have her undertake a two hour drive. Unless it was worthwhile to the Bank and herself. And especially to David Carlson! But not necessarily in that order!

The client, Peter Bradford, was not what she had expected. He was fifty-five, almost exactly to the day. He had been born in Houston. Unusual! And he had been married for thirty-four years, with three children. Unusual again! She knew all that from the form she filled in. Judged by the furniture, carpets, picture and the state of the house, her initial thoughts on a middle-manager were correct. Everything said so.

Wrong!

He may have acted like a middle-manager in his personal life for twenty-years, but it was only because he was being prudent, working hard and creating a very successful business. And now, after many years of being pestered and badgered to sell his beloved company, he had finally allowed the caring Venture Capitalists, to float it on NASDAQ.

He was going to receive over fifty million dollars in cash, and had asked his long-term friend and bank manager to get him some proper advice, that was not going to cost him the usual percentage. He had been too careful for too many years, to allow himself to be suckered like that!

She must have shown an awful lot of surprise, as after he had told her the story, she had accepted his offer of a glass of champagne at ten thirty in the morning. Something that not only broke all the rules in the Bank about drinking on duty, but was against the health, fitness and style regime she had established for herself!

***

As she came to the end of what she felt was a rather good report, she started to smile. And smile about many things!

She smiled at her prowess whilst dressing in the dark. The master stroke had been to choose the burgundy suit, which of course meant that most blouses would match and even blue shoes wouldn't be too bad. The ivory blouse and the black shoes would have been a good choice anyway! The unmatched ear-rings would not have been, but she only noticed them now, in the small mirror above her desk. 'Did the client notice? Tut, tut! One point off!'

She thought how she had managed to put on her full make-up, in the pouring rain, whilst driving around the Beltway in the heavy traffic at a less than constant fifty-five miles an hour. She looked in the mirror, pouted and squeezed her lips and pronounced herself very satisfied with the handiwork! She could at least find work as an in-car make-up artist for busy executives. if her current high-profile job went pear-shaped!

She smiled at the way she had handled Peter Bradford and also at the way he had conducted his side of the business. No wonder he was making so much money from the deal, by selling to the most blue of blue chip companies. She made an imaginary toast with the coffee. 'Good luck to you, Mr. Bradford!'

She smiled too at that meeting. Scheduled for three hours and a lunch afterwards, they had run through it in an hour, after starting thirty minutes late. No backchat, time wasting or irrelevant questions. Why couldn't all her clients or employees be like that?

But she smiled most at what happened at the end!

Peter's wife, Catherine, had brought in coffee and some of the most delicious home-made cookies, to finish off the meeting and settle the champagne. She was a very elegant lady, who looked perhaps fifteen years less than her real age. Dressed in a short skirt, she showed a wonderful pair of legs tapering into the highest of heels. If only her legs could be so good in the years to come!

But the real surprise was that Catherine's very small, exentuated waist and extremely beautiful, curvy bust was not the result of some accident of birth. She was obviously wearing an old-fashioned corset, properly laced to obtain the desired results.

It was not often you came across someone, who followed the same regime, as yourself!

Copyright 1999 by Ewart Higgins