As I lie in bed replaying my week, the partners meeting this afternoon in particular, I think of how much power I have. The company would’ve invested about five million dollars for our first round, and we considered a total of over fifteen million. I shared that I’m concerned about the chief financial officer not really understanding basic accounting principles. We could’ve required they hire someone else, which is what I’m advocating, but Mason felt that they should’ve figured it out on their own. This power scares me a little bit.
CHAPTER SIX
Dillon
I mentioned to Mason that I’m going to play a round of golf with Emerson on Saturday, and now Mason and Cameron have plans to join us and make it a foursome. The three of us became members of the Palo Alto Country Club when we were in our mid-twenties with too much money on our hands, and as junior members, it wasn’t as expensive.
The Palo Alto Country Club can be a who’s who of Silicon Valley, but it’s really a beautiful green oasis close to Stanford. It has rolling greens with more sand traps than I would like and certainly some challenging water hazards. What really makes the course unique are the spectacular views of the Bay Area. The head golf pro has this uncanny knack of moving the pins on each hole regularly, which adds to the complexity. This is the home course to four PGA and LPGA tour professionals.
The guys are bringing a lot of bravado to Saturday morning. We’re decent players, but we’re definitely weekend hackers. I don’t know why they think they have a chance in hell to beat Emerson. I’m sure she’s still a great player, and I think she’ll take this as a bit of hazing and not be too intimidated by us. We also agree to have Sara and some of our friends meet us afterward for drinks and fun at the club bar.
We meet for a 10:30 a.m. tee time and find Emerson dressed in a white golf skirt with a blue geometric pattern and a matching blue shirt. She’s striking with her long tan legs that seem to go on forever. She’s chatting with the head pro as I approach.
“I’ve missed you, too, Tom,” I hear her tell him.
“Hopefully we’ll see more of you in the coming months and years.”
“Well I’m only here as a guest, but I sure do miss this course. How are the greens running today?”
“I’d say they’re fast. We’re soaking the greens at night, but the hot weather is drying out the greens by this time of day.”
“Anything else I should know before I let these guys beat me?”
Making my presence known, I interject, “You better not play below your abilities. We’re all here to watch you play.”
Tom shares with me, “You know she qualified for the women’s pro tour every year she was at Stanford. Two of her teammates, who weren’t half as good, have gone on to play pro and are making a decent living.”
Emerson turns to me. “Tom here has always been the president of my fan club. I was never as good as Tina Martin or Jenny Wolf.”
“Don’t let her fool you. Those two girls may be in the top twenty in the world, but she’s better. You’ll see.”
We’re in so much trouble. Please don’t embarrass us too much.
We meet the guys at the first tee with our golf carts. I set this up, so I’m riding with Emerson. I’ve loaded up an ice chest of Bloody Marys and beer chasers. The three of us drive our first shots off to the first hole’s middle tee, some of us with less-than-stellar first hits. We’re expecting Emerson to move to the front tees, but she chooses the back instead.
Mason looks at me and seems stunned. Cameron mutters, “She’s going to kill us today, isn’t she?”
We all nod and Mason says, “Yep.”
She has the most brilliant drive, and even with the extra ten yards she added by using the back tee, she outpaces our first shots by another ten yards. We all look at each other and know we’re going to get handed our lunch today.
Mason says, “This is going to be fun watching her play, and I probably won’t mind if she beats me.”
We all nod in agreement.
In the cart, Emerson asks, “Was that showing off?”
I laugh and tell her, “Not in the least. We’re all prepared to get spanked today, and we’ll enjoy watching you do it. But I should warn you, you’re going to be pulled into every tournament we get invited to—particularly when we play best ball tourneys.”
“I’ll manage.”
The round of golf lasted almost four hours. Emerson didn’t offer any advice unless it was solicited, always the consummate professional as she killed us all. She beat me by nearly eight strokes and Cameron by at least one stroke every hole.
Emerson forced each of us to pony up five hundred dollars we’d each secretly bet before the start of the first hole. I laughed so hard my sides hurt as we began to drag ourselves to the club bar.
“Emerson, you’re truly a fantastic player. Real treat to watch you play. I’m glad you’re on our team,” Mason says.
Everyone laughs as we put our gear away in our club lockers and meet Sara and a few friends at the bar in the clubhouse. I’ve invited an old friend of mine from college to join us. “Adam, this is Emerson. Emerson, Adam.”
“Nice to meet you,” they both say in unison.
Sara is watching all the attention Emerson is getting and seems unhappy. Emerson notices too and asks, “Sara, do you play golf?”
Holding her purse tight to her side, Sara blushes, apparently embarrassed. “No. Not very well.”
Emerson teases, “That sounds like a yes.”
“I play about four times a year. I’m nowhere near as good as you or the guys though. My best sport is being a professional spectator.”
“Well, I hope you’ll join us next time. Dillon here can ride by himself and we girls can enjoy time together.”
Sara naturally relaxes at the idea of being included. “I’d love to.”
We spend better than two hours just hanging out and chatting it up. Sara gets a text and politely excuses herself. I suspect she has a date with a hot new beau, and I’m thrilled Sara’s seeing someone. She’s a great girl and deserves a guy who adores her.
I asked Adam to be at the bar to meet Emerson. As one of my good friends, I remember Adam talking about her when we were in school and thought they might like one another. Now that I’ve seen them together, however, I’m not sure I like the idea of them going out.
Adam leans over and asks Emerson if she’d like to go to dinner sometime. She blushes as she agrees and gives him her phone number. For some reason, it bothers me.
I like her friend CeCe. She looks familiar, but I can’t place from where exactly. Like Emerson, she’s tall with an hourglass figure—extremely easy on the eyes. A vivacious brunette, she comfortably fits in with our crew and seems to be able to take as much as she can dish out. Mason is completely taken by her, though he’s seeing someone and would never stray. Maybe if he spends more time with her in these kinds of settings, he’ll find that Grace, his current girlfriend, isn’t such a good match for him.
The sun is getting low, and Emerson makes a polite excuse for her and CeCe to head home. Mason asks, “CeCe, have you been here all morning?”
“Oh goodness no. I took a Lyft down knowing I could catch a ride with Em back into The City.”
Awkwardly, Mason says, “Well, I hope we’ll see you again.”
With a bright smile, she gives him a hug. “I hope so, too.”
The valets help Emerson load her car with her clubs, and she talks to a few of the staff who remember her from her Stanford days. That was over fifteen years ago, which speaks volumes to how she’s always been with people. I watch as CeCe sits next to her in her car and wave as they drive back into The City.
On my drive home, I call Elizabeth and ask her out for a last-minute dinner. She agrees, and I tell her I’ll pick her up at eight o’clock at the door of her building. I then call and make reservations at the newest hot restaurant.
I’m waiting outside Elizabeth’s building. It’s after eight, and she’s late. She’s recently out of
grad school in Chicago, cute and decent in bed. She works for Clorox and is always eager to please; however, she’s never on time, which drives me crazy.
As we walk into the restaurant, the manager is there waiting for us and we’re quickly shown our seat. As I look across the busy restaurant, I’m shocked when I see Emerson and CeCe with two other women. I tell Elizabeth that I’ll be right back and I walk over.
I open my arms wide as I approach the table. “Hey, girls!”
CeCe jumps up and gives me a big hug, then introduces me to the girls I don’t know. “Ladies, this is Dillon Healy, Emerson’s yummy new business partner. Dillon, this is Hadlee Fisher and Greer Ford.”
CeCe moved from golf attire to a striking sleeveless fringed black cocktail dress. It’s short and shows off her well-toned arms, her long legs accentuated with a strappy high-heeled sandal. CeCe’s chestnut hair is straight down her back, and her big brown eyes are emphasized by smoky makeup.
Hadlee could easily pass for a sister to Kate Beckinsale with dark brown hair and stunning sapphire-blue eyes. Her dark floral print dress hugs and highlights every delicious curve, and the blue in the floral really make her eyes pop.
Greer has a more traditional voluptuous figure, very generous and luscious. The long-sleeved lacy sheath dress in a beautiful medium brown tone highlights her auburn-colored hair quite nicely.
Emerson is a sight to behold with her blonde hair piled high on her head, ringlets cascading down strategically around her face. Her embroidered cap sleeve sheath cocktail dress hits above her beautiful knees. At first, I think her dress strategically covers all the good parts, but then I realize it has a skintone slip underneath. It’s very sexy. Those strappy sandals are quickly becoming my favorite, and her makeup is subtle. I easily imagine her pink lips sucking my cock.
All four women are gorgeous. Even the gay men in the restaurant are clearly mesmerized by the quartet. I tell them I’m with a friend and ask if they’d like to make it a table of six. We all agree, and I grab the hostess. She tries to tell me they’re unable to accommodate my request, but then I do the one thing I hate and ask her to find the manager. She walks off in a huff, he comes over, and we have a bigger table.
I introduce Elizabeth to everyone, and she’s obviously disappointed that she no longer has my individual attention. The women are gracious and friendly, and she gets over her disappointment quickly.
“Dillon, I hope you’re treating our Emerson well at SHN,” Greer asks.
Emerson is quick to interject, “They’re doing fine.”
“Dillon, you up for some dancing in the Castro tonight?” Hadlee questions me.
I laugh and tell her, “You might be able to talk me into it.”
She squeals in delight, clapping her hands in front of her like a young child. Turning to Emerson, she says, “Emerson, you’re the only one who seems to be uninterested.”
“Why go to a gay bar?” Emerson asks. “There isn’t anything I have that interests them. Most of the time, it seems as if we’re taking up valuable space from the hordes of men who might be potential dates for the night.”
Confused, Elizabeth asks the girls, “You like to hang out in gay bars?”
“Honey, it’s the best entertainment in town, and the dancing is a blast,” CeCe tells her.
We order a nice dinner and have a fun night, though we’re loud and probably a little rowdier than we should be. It’s almost midnight before we know it, and I wave down the waiter and ask for the check. Everyone reaches for their wallets except Elizabeth. I did ask her out, so I’m not surprised, just maybe a bit disappointed. I tell everyone, “Put your wallets away. I’ve got this,” and when the waiter arrives, I hand him my Black American Express card.
As we all leave the restaurant, Emerson gives everyone—including Elizabeth and me—a deep embrace, then asks the valet to call her a cab. I tell her I’ll give her a ride home, but I quickly realize I drove my Porsche and there’s no place for Elizabeth if I take Emerson.
“Don’t worry about me. I can take a cab home,” Emerson assures me.
CeCe has a limo on call, which drives up to pick them up. The girls are gracious and ask if we want to head into the Castro with them. We politely decline and send the three girls on their way. Emerson’s cab pulls up and she waves goodbye as she climbs into her ride home.
As they drive off, Elizabeth cuddles in and says, “We’re finally alone.”
It dawns on me that I’m not interested in being alone with her. As my car arrives and she sits in the passenger seat, her hand immediately wanders to my crotch and she strokes me. I’m not feeling anything for her or what she’s doing; I can’t even get hard. I turn to her and say, “Can we try another night? I’m tired and have an early morning tomorrow.”
“Sure,” she pouts.
I drop her at her place and head home, unable to get Emerson out of my mind. I like her friends. They’re apparently pretty tight, and she made sure to spotlight each of the girls for me in such a way that it wouldn’t make Elizabeth jealous. It was the most fun I’ve had out in a long time.
Emerson has entered my life with all kinds of surprises.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Emerson
The drive home in the taxi is taking much longer than I would have liked, but it gives me time to reflect on the evening. Elizabeth is attractive, and much younger than I expected. Cute girl. She wasn’t too thrilled about being part of our harem, but hopefully she had an excellent time.
I’m not sure I wanted Hadlee to meet Dillon. I know she’ll ask me if she can get his number and ask him out, which will make work a bit embarrassing. I’ll have to tell him about the possibility and let him make the call. I’m not going to get in the middle.
When I get home, I quickly change and take Molly out for a short walk. She’s tired, too, so she does her business quickly and we’re soon home cuddling in bed. I continue to replay the evening in my mind. It was a lot of fun, but I’m glad to have Molly to come home to every night. She adores me and is always excited to see me. I lie here wondering how nice it would be to have Dillon here in my bed to cuddle up with as I slowly drift off to sleep.
Molly and I wake early and head out for a good run. I enjoy the exercise. The soft sounds of birds chirping in the trees above me always cause my heart to flutter in my chest. They help to remind me that San Francisco isn’t just a concrete jungle. We run shy of five miles around the Presidio, and she’s exhausted by the time we get home. As I run, I always work out my stress of the day and any challenges I’m facing. Honestly, I hate to work out, but I like to eat, so I don’t have much choice.
Arriving home, I see a text from Dillon.
Dillon: You interested in meeting for breakfast?
Me: Sure. I just got back from a run. I need to shower. What time were you thinking?
Dillon: I can come by and pick you up when you’re ready.
Me: OK. 30 minutes.
Dillon: You’re fast. See you then.
Surprised to see the voice mail icon on my phone, I quickly check it and am stunned to hear Adam’s voice. I missed his call at some point yesterday. He wanted to meet up last night. Too late. Even if he’d caught me, I don’t go out last minute. Oh well.
I quickly grab a shower and dress casually. Just as I finish up, Dillon rings the bell.
“Hi. Come on in. I’m ready, just need to get Molly settled before I go.”
“Hey. No worries.” Looking around, he watches me as I tempt Molly into her crate. “I’ve never known a woman who could get ready so fast.
“Growing up in a family of five kids, who all share one bathroom, you learn to be quick.”
“One bathroom for the five of you? That’s tight.” He removes a bone from his pocket, and Molly is smitten. She sits at his feet in a begging position and can’t take her eyes off his hand with the bone.
Molly frustratingly keeps running over to Dillon for belly and ear rubs instead of going into her crate. “You do know she may want to
go live with you if you continue to spoil her.”
“That’s what I’m counting on. So… the bathroom?
“My parents restored old homes as a hobby. It was fun, but it often meant we lived in tight quarters. I usually got my own room as the only girl.” Changing subjects, I ask, “How did it go last night with Elizabeth? She couldn’t have been too thrilled to share you with four other women.”
“We’re just friends.”
I stop and turn to him. “Dillon, I don’t think she thinks of you as a friend.”
Shrugging, he says, “Well, maybe not, but I think of Elizabeth as only a friend. And I dropped her off at her place last night.”
“She must have been disappointed.”
He shrugs like he doesn’t care what Elizabeth wants.
Definitely a player.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Dillon
I couldn’t get Emerson out of my mind last night. Once I thought it was a reputable hour, I texted her for breakfast. I could come up with a work excuse if I needed to, but I like hanging out with her. I’m delighted when she texts me back that she’s up for joining me. It shouldn’t have surprised me that she had already gone for a good run this morning. From hitting golf balls before work and a few other things she’s said, I figured she was a morning person.
We head to a spot in my neighborhood for breakfast. It’s still early for the Sunday crowd, so we get a decent table. We both order coffee and enjoy sitting and reading the San Francisco Chronicle. It’s comfortable. When the bill arrives, she insists on paying. What a welcome change from most of the women in my life.
Forbidden Love (Venture Capitalist Book 1) Page 3
