by Sloan, C. T.
“Who is that?” a deep-voiced man asks. The voice sounds so big and so booming that I just know it belongs to Mr. Rex himself. I see someone tap my leg. I look at the person tapping my leg, it is the short-haired woman. Her face is nearly white. I look over at the center of the room and see this tall, imposing man staring right at me. His deep brown eyes penetrate right through my body. It is him. It is Mr. Rex. The T-Rex is staring right at me.
What should I do? I am not to speak unless spoken to. But Mr. Rex is not talking to me. He is talking about me. No one is answering and Mr. Rex is staring directly at me expecting an answer. I clear my throat and say, “My name is uh,” I mumble before realizing that I was going to mention my real name. “My name is Vanessa London. I am one of your new assistants,” I say in a voice that makes me sound more like a scared little girl.
Mr. Rex’s massive build, thick arms and huge chest moves towards me. The T. Rex extends his hand towards me. I quickly stand up. I extend my hand. He shakes it. “My name is Trent Rex. It is a pleasure to meet you,” he says in a polite yet firm manner. The very act of physical contact nearly stops my heart. My legs feel like they are about to come out from under me. I stumble back into my chair and continue to take notes.
Mr. Rex works his way around the room interrogating his managing directors about all aspects of Rex Industries’ major projects. Everyone is on their toes. My hand works overtime as I take about six pages worth of short-hand. Right before noon, the meeting breaks up. “I want an update on the Asia operations at 8:00 p.m.,” Mr. Rex barks before everyone leaves the office.
The short-haired woman looks at me and asks me, “You don’t mind covering the 8:00 p.m. meeting?”
“Not at all!” I say excitedly.
“Good,” she says with a smile. We head back into the elevator. “You handled yourself well,” she adds.
“I wasn’t expecting him to even notice me.”
“Mr. Rex notices everything,” the short-haired woman says as we make it back to the 81st floor.
I return to my desk excited that I’m going to meet Mr. Rex again. As I look over my shorthand chicken scratches, I try my best to transcribe the meeting notes into a comprehensive memo. After working through lunch, the meeting notes are done at around 2:30. The short-haired woman comes over to my desk. After looking over my desk, she compliments my through note-taking.
“You are really good at this,” she says.
“Thanks,” I say. I was about to mention my experience as a college journalist before I stop myself.
“By the way, my name is Amy,” she says as she takes my notes. “Make sure you destroy your handwritten notes in the ‘dead room.’”
“What’s the ‘dead room?’” I ask with a perplexed and intrigued look on my face.
“Oh that’s right. You’re new up here. Come on,” Amy says as she walks me away from the assistants’ area. We head to a closed door. Amy pulls out her “gold card” and presses it against a scanner. “You use your Restricted Access card to get inside,” Amy explains as a green light indicates an unlocked door. Amy opens the door. We walk inside a small room lit only by ambient lighting. We walk up to a strange looking shredder. “You place all of your meeting notes inside this shredder. A laser scanner will burn all the ink off of the paper before shredding and destroying all contents. This is very important. No meeting notes are to ever leave this building.”
“Understood,” I say as I place the handwritten notes into the machine. I listen to the laser burning the ink off of the paper. Then I hear the shredder’s blades do their handiwork. Impressive indeed.
“I’m going to go disseminate the meeting memo. You can go on your lunch break,” Amy says.
“Thanks,” I respond with a wide smile. I head over to the elevators and go down to the ground floor. I head out of the Rex Industries building and catch a satisfying lunch at a cafeteria across the street. My face is still beaming from Amy’s compliments on the notes. And my heart is still racing from shaking Mr. Rex’s hand.
***
The afternoon passes with me in breathless anticipation for this evening’s status meeting. As 7:00 rolls around, I notice that everyone is still inside of the office on the eighty-first floor. These folks certainly don’t abide to the nine to five routine. Since I have a few minutes before the meeting, I decide to do a little walking around this upper floor of the Rex Building. I notice that there are many cameras mounted on the ceiling so I am careful not to looking too suspicious as I observe the offices. As I walk around, I listen to several people speak in various Asian languages. Then it occurs to me that the Asian markets are beginning to open. Since Rex Industries is a global company, many of the senior level employees have to be able to communicate with just about every market around the world.
7:45 p.m. I gather my stationary and head up to the eighty-fifth floor. The elevator doors open. I make my way over to Mr. Rex’s office and just stare at the huge double doors. Then I look at my watch. I’m a few minutes early. Should I just walk in? Should I knock? I nervously open the double doors and notice Mr. Rex pacing around his office. I’m not sure if he could see me. I just watch this very imposing man stalk around his own office like a caged tiger. For a moment, I just take in his sheer size. Then I notice the man’s really cute round butt. A little smile comes across my face.
“Come in!” Mr. Rex barks as he continues to stalk around his office. The T. Rex’s roar catches me so off guard that I nearly fall over my heels. Mr. Rex looks at me and says, “It’s Vanessa, right?”
“Yes, Mr. Rex.”
The big boss walks over to his desk and picks up several pieces of paper. “Did you transcribe this morning’s notes?”
“Yes,” I say nervously.
“Very extensive work.”
“Thank you,” I say as I smile from ear to ear.
Several other people walk in. I am shocked to see the meeting start with only four other people in the room. The topic of conversation involves a project in Taiwan. There is some talk about delays, which causes Mr. Rex to demand an immediate teleconference with his managing director in Taipei.
A very nervous looking man appears on a large TV screen. Mr. Rex begins to angrily berate the man on the other side of the world.
“Why is the robotics factory not online?!” Mr. Rex demands.
“My apologies, Mr. Rex. We are experiencing a parts shortage from Osaka.”
“You better swim over to Osaka and get those parts or else I am going to have a Managing Director shortage in Taipei!” the T. Rex yells. And I swear, before the teleconference is over, he has nearly reduced a grown man to tears. The meeting continues to focus on the operations in Taipei. Thankfully, my training as a journalist comes in handy as I dutifully capture every important detail that comes out of Mr. Rex’s mouth.
As soon as the teleconference ends, Mr. Rex turns to the four senior execs and tells them to stay on top of the Taipei situation. I watch these four powerful men squirm in their seats. I dutifully take notes, careful to make sure I miss nothing being said. As soon as the meeting ends, the four execs disappear from Mr. Rex’s sprawling office. Several pieces of paper fall off of my lap, I quickly try to gather my notes before I further fuel the anger of the T. Rex. As I bend over to pick up the pieces of paper, I notice the very large shoe of Mr. Rex right next to me. The billionaire picks up several of my pieces of paper and begins to read them. He carefully looks over my notes and looks at me.
“You are a little too smart to be a secretary,” the T. Rex says. My heart begins to jump out of my chest. Of fuck. I think my cover is blown.
“I don’t understand,” I say in a mousy voice.
“I don’t see one typo in any of your notes. You even spelled the city of Zhongshon correctly,” Mr. Rex says as he stares right through me.
I don’t know what to say. My experience as a journalism student at the University of Texas as well as my proofreading job at the Austin Statesman may blow my cover.
“Mr. Re
x. I know how important these meetings are to the company. And I strive to provide you with the best notes possible,” I say.
The imposing billionaire looks me up and down. And for a moment, I could swear that he is checking me out. I can feel his eyes scanning every part of my body. I look up at Mr. Rex’s massive chest and his huge arms.
“I have another teleconference at Midnight. I’m going to hold that meeting at my estate. I’d like you to come with me and take notes,” he says.
I nearly pass out. He wants me to come to his estate?! My undercover story looks like it’s going to be a blockbuster! I nervously say, “yes.” Then I ask, “Um, I don’t have your address, Mr. Rex?”
“You can come with me in my helicopter. I’ll have my personal driver take you home afterward,” the T. Rex says as my body begins to shake. Helicopter rides. A late night meeting with the most powerful man in Texas. This is all too surreal for me to handle.
“Thank you, Mr. Rex,” I say with a smile.
“Alright, I’m going to get some more updates from Asia and then we will be leaving within the hour,” he says.
I almost want to jump up and down. This is more exciting and exhilarating than I could ever imagine.
So I sit there in Mr. Rex’s office while he talks on the phone with other departments. He doesn’t seem to mind that I am inside his office. Then it hits me, we are all alone. I get up from the chair and begin to sort of wander around this massive office. I slowly walk over to the giant floor to ceiling windows and observe the entire city of Dallas below me. This is a true “Master of the Universe” kind of view. As I watch the city, I catch a reflection of Mr. Rex checking me out. A little smile comes across my face. Of course, he is a guy. The kind of alpha male, masculine kind of guy filled with adrenaline and energy. I want to look back and sort of smile or flirt with him. Then I have to remind myself, This man is my boss. And he has a temper. I dare not risk losing this job and losing the biggest story of the decade.
I look over to the right and see a door. I wonder where that goes. I walk over the door and slowly open it. Oh, it’s Mr. Rex’s personal bathroom suite complete with a shower and jacuzzi. Of course, an office like this has to have all the bells and whistles. I look around and see a full bar. I walk over to the bar and notice a mini-fridge. I open the fridge and find a couple of bottles of beers as well as some orange juice.
“Vanessa!” Mr. Rex barks. I jump to attention, leaving the damn mini-fridge door dangling open.
“Yes, Mr. Rex!”
“Let’s go,” he says as he puts on his jacket. The T. Rex stops for a moment and notices the fridge door is open. My face turns white. “Did you want something to drink?”
“Um, yeah sure,” I say as I nervously grab a bottle of orange juice.
Mr. Rex walks out of the office. I quickly follow him. As he leaves, Mr. Rex’s assistants wish him a good night. We go inside the elevator. Mr. Rex places his fingerprint on a scanner, and the elevator begins to rise. I nervously stand next to the massive beast of a man whose chest rises with every breath like a bull. The elevator doors open. I hear the massive whipping sound of a helicopter blade along with the hard breeze of the Dallas night air. Ahead of us is an enormous passenger helicopter resting on the rooftop helipad. About a hundred feet above us are the two escort choppers.
As we walk towards the helicopter, I see the word “REX” written in red bold letters. The sonic assault of the helicopter blades causes me to pin my index fingers into my ears. I climb up the metal stairs and make my way into the helicopter. I’m a little nervous. I’ve never even been in a helicopter before and now I am being whisked away by the most powerful billionaire in Texas.
I step inside the copter and quickly find myself inside a cabin that resembles interior of a Gulfstream jet. The overstuffed cream seats as well as the polished oak finish is warm and inviting. I strap myself in and look out of the window as the large copter begins to rise off of the helipad. The flashing red, blue and white lights on the Rex Building rooftop attack my eyes. I am experiencing one heck of a sensory overload. I look over at Mr. Rex, who sits back and kicks up his feet as though this trip is nothing special. For me, this is the ride of a lifetime.
I look down at the lights of Dallas. The entire city is below us. A girl can certainly get used to a commute like this.
“Where did you go to school?” Mr. Rex asks me. The question catches me completely off guard. I stumble and stutter for a good ten as I mentally try to recall my cover story.
“University of Boulder. I mean, University of Colorado at Boulder.”
Mr. Rex seems to be a little amused by my answer. He looks down my legs and asks, “So what are you? 22 years old?
“I’m 21.”
“You’re doing good for a girl your age. There are lots of 21 year old college grads who are waiting tables,” Mr. Rex says.
Yeah, tell me about it. I was one of those 21-year olds just a few weeks ago!
The copter swiftly takes us to the north Dallas area. The city lights give way to the darkness of the suburbs and the many trees that line the landscape of the metro area’s most affluent enclave. We quickly pass over a massive castle like estate. It is, by far, the most magnificent residence I have ever seen in my life. Now I was expecting Mr. Rex to own a big house. And big homes are the norm in Texas. But this home is much like the T. Rex himself - massive, majestic and imposing.
We begin to descend onto an illuminated landing area. The escort copters remain in a holding pattern until Mr. Rex’s copter touches down. As the escort copters leave the area, Mr. Rex opens the door and steps out of the copter. I quickly follow. We walk along an illuminated pathway of steps leading to a grand arched entryway. Mr. Rex opens the door and looks back for me. Much to my surprise, the most powerful man in Texas holds the door open for his lowly assistant.
“Thank you, Mr. Rex.”
“You’re welcome.”
I walk inside and find myself in the middle of a grand foyer dominated by massive columns and the biggest chandelier I have ever seen in my life. The echo of Mr. Rex’s footsteps reverberates as he walks across the foyer and heads down a hallway. I follow the big boss to a large living room area. Mr. Rex removes his jacket and relaxes on a large white sofa. I kinda stand there for a moment.
“Have a seat,” my boss says. I nervously sit down on another sofa across from him.
Mr. Rex walks over to a bar and takes a bottle of red wine from a mini-fridge. He grabs two glasses and pops the cork. I nervously jolt in my seat. As Mr. Rex pours the wine, it occurs to me that he is going to invite me for a drink. I begin to wonder, is this a social drink or is my boss hitting on me?! All right, I try to keep myself calm. This guy most probably dates some six-foot blonde model. He is not going to be interested in little ole’ me.
“It would be rude of me to drink without asking you,” Mr. Rex says.
“I would love to have a glass of wine.”
“Excellent,” my boss says as he walks over with a glass. I nervously hold the glass in my hand. Mr. Rex looks at me and says, “To your new position as my personal assistant. Hopefully, you will last longer than the person you replaced.”
Well, that is the world’s most uncomfortable toast! I clink glasses and take a nice long sip. Then I ask, “What happened to your last personal assistant, if I may ask.”
“She angered me,” he said.
Oh fuck. How did I ask a follow-up question. Dammit. The journalist in me can’t help but probe. “How did she anger you, Mr. Rex?”
“She talked about me outside of the office. A strict violation of company policy.”
“I would never do that, Mr. Rex.”
“I value loyalty above all else.”
“I would always be loyal to you.”
My hulking billionaire walks right up to me. “People will soon find out that you are one of my personal assistants. They will offer you bribes. They will offer you a year’s salary to discuss my business and personal life.”
<
br /> “Mr. Rex. You can trust me.”
The billionaire looks me up and down. “So I don’t have to worry about you going to the media. I don’t have to worry about you wearing a wire to my meetings.”
“Why would I wear a wire?” I ask with a tinge of fear in my stomach.
“Are you wearing a wire?”
“No, sir.”
“Prove it to me.”
I look at this big handsome mass of a man. My chest heaves as I stare up at his massive arms and chest. I need to convince him that I would be loyal. I want to prove that I am not wearing a wire. I begin to unbutton my blouse and remove it. I stand there in my bra. Then I reach over and slowly unzip my skirt. I pull it down. I stare before my billionaire boss in my bra and underwear. I am cold. I am shaking. I am aroused.
