Fits Like a Glove Page 2

  "Seven p.m. sharp. Oh, and you might want to take some baby oil when you go, too."

  "Baby oil? What for?"

  "Hell, Guy. They sell condoms. Do I have to draw you a picture?

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  Pique

  She knew it was only a matter of time before Belling came thundering into her office.

  "What in the name of all that is holy are you doing, Charlotte?” But instead of giving her a chance to explain, the big man continued his onslaught. “I just got the preliminaries from R and D, and ... and ... I can't believe the crap you're having them prototype!"

  Charlotte jumped in before he could go any further. “A couple of days ago you approved that ‘crap’ at the board meeting, or have you forgotten?” It was hardball time. She figured she might as well swing, and use metaphors the man would be able to understand in that pea-sized brain of his. “Unless we do something now, this company will have to file Chapter Eleven. That is, if we're lucky enough to go that route! Because if we're forced to file for bankruptcy, guess who's going to be out of a job? It won't be just me!"

  "Awright, awright, I went along with your suggestions because everyone was scared out of their minds. They thought, we all thought we were about to receive our walking papers. That's why they ... we went along with you, don't you realize that?” the big man shot back. “That, and the fact that you're the new boss now."

  Giving an exasperated sigh, Charlotte grabbed two hands full of hair and silently counted to ten. Quickly. No sense letting her blood pressure get up to Vesuvius status.

  "Listen, Bruce. The company isn't selling. You've seen the figures. So I thought some fresh and innovative ideas—"

  "Innovative?” he interrupted. “You call chocolate covered condoms innovative? And those damn Dress Your Dick costumes ... it's humiliating for a man to even consider doing that to himself!"

  "Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe they'll sell, but we won't know for sure until they hit the shelves. When's the last time you heard about New Coke?"

  Belling stood staring at her and grinding his teeth. There was more he wanted to say to try and change her mind, but it wouldn't work. Not with Charlotte Skye, daughter of probably the hardest-headed man who ever lived.

  Lowering her voice, she gently added, “Let me try, Bruce. Just give me that chance. Six months. If I can't get the sales figures to turn around in six months, I'll come to you and apologize, and listen to your suggestions. Deal?"

  Instead of answering, the man whirled around and stalked out of the office. But she knew it wouldn't be the last confrontation with him. Belling was all for saving Skye Blue. Just not her way.

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  Parade

  "There sure is a bunch of guys here who want to parade their peckers around,” the man next to Guy muttered. But it was loud enough so that the people around him could hear. The remark struck Guy in an odd way, until he realized what the man was insinuating. Suddenly the whole damn situation became nauseating.

  Why hadn't he been aware of the possibility before he'd come to apply? How many of these men were actually perverts looking to scratch two itches simultaneously—exposing themselves and getting paid to do it?

  Guy scanned the room with a jaundiced eye. There had to be four, maybe five hundred men in the room. Men of all ages, sizes, and shapes. He spotted paint-splattered overalls and business suits, the country club set with their polo shirts and creased khakis, and vagrants off the street. There was even a couple of uniformed police present. Guy wondered if the cops were there to help supervise or apply.

  All of them were vying for the one dozen advertised positions. Competition wasn't going to be fierce. It was going to be ridiculous.

  What the hell am I doing here? he asked himself for the third time. When he arrived that morning, he'd been appalled at the line stretching clear to the end of the block. Right then Guy had been half-inclined to go find the nearest pay phone and call Vic, and tell him the man's confidential source was not that confidential. No telling what venues the company had used. But word had certainly gotten out.

  The low murmur of voices trickled into silence. The door at the back of the large hall had opened, and a few people were entering. One woman in particular caught his attention. She was a slight thing, but curvaceous. She was wearing a dark skirt and suit-like top that snuggled against her figure as though it had been tailored to fit.

  An older man took the short podium first, and lifted the microphone to his face. “Good evening, gentlemen. Thank you for coming, and thank you for your interest in applying for our job openings. To be honest, we didn't expect there would be such a large response."

  The lame joke got a titter of laughter from the crowd. These men were just as nervous as he was, Guy realized. And probably just as desperate.

  "Before we explain to you the procedure we're going to take to interview everyone, let me first introduce our new president of Skye Blue, Miss Charlotte Skye."

  There was applause. Then, to Guy's astonishment, the petite woman in the form-fitting suit top and skirt stepped up the mic. She was so tiny, she reminded Guy of those china dolls he'd seen for sale in store shop windows. Delicate and fragile. Too damn lovely to own for fear of chipping or breaking one, and costing a pretty penny, to boot.

  But her face was exquisite. Plus she had thick, reddish-brown hair that immediately made Guy's fingers itch to grab a handful. Shocked at his reaction, he waited to hear what the woman would say.

  "On behalf of Skye Blue, thank you for coming this evening."

  Oh, fuck me! Her voice was sweet and dark, a low alto range with just a hint of rasp. Like that actress Kathleen Turner.

  Guy felt himself stirring inside his jeans, and his reaction irritated the hell out of him. The last thing he needed was to get involved again, much less with a president of a condom company.

  Yeah, like I have a ghost of a chance with someone like her. Guy winced.

  "With the passing of my father and founder of Skye Blue, I am obligated to take this company to better and greater heights. We have a roster of new products we hope will revitalize the field, and you gentlemen will be instrumental in helping us reach that goal.” She paused to scan the room. “Thank you again for coming. I'll now hand you over to Bruce Belling, Vice Chairman of Skye Blue."

  The woman stepped down but didn't disappear into the back rooms. Instead, she stood to one side to watch. Or oversee. Guy had no idea what kind of politics were involved in running a company like Skye Blue, but he got the distinct impression this woman had a finger in everything.

  The older gentleman resumed the platform. “We will begin the interview process alphabetically. If your last name begins with the letter we call, please proceed immediately to the double doors to your right. You will be asked to fill out and sign a standard release form. Our first step will be to check for criminal records. After that, you will be required to give blood and urine samples for drug testing. Those applicants who pass the first round of tests will be called back. Thank you again for your interest."

  He stepped down and was immediately replaced by a tall, thin man in a long, white lab coat. Guy figured him to be the physician in charge.

  "Good evening. I'm Dr. Marling. I am in charge of all medical procedures at Skye Blue. I can assure you all information regarding your health issues will be kept in strictest confidence, as required by law. However, if you are found to have a criminal background, it would be best if you left now because that much will not remain confidential."

  Guy wasn't surprised to see a good number of men rise from their folding chairs and leave. However, there still remained a large crowd. He pressed his fists into his crotch and twiddled his fingers, hoping he looked nonchalant. It would be a while before the letter S was called.

  "All right. Let's begin. If your last name begins with A through E, please proceed through the doors."

  To Guy's amazement, the initial screening process moved quickly. Less than ten minut
es later, his letter was called.

  Once he went through the doors, it quickly became clear why everything was going so smoothly. There had to be at least twenty tent-like cubicles occupied by a medical assistant sitting behind a small table, waiting for the next candidate. Guy went inside the nearest empty one, shutting the drape behind him as politely instructed. He filled out the forms, had blood drawn, then was left alone for a moment of privacy to give the urine sample. That done, he patiently stood as the assistant took his photo with a digital camera before thanking him and telling him that if he passed the preliminary round, he would be given a call back.

  Walking out into the evening, he glanced at his watch. The whole thing had taken less than an hour. Phenomenal. Not only was the place on its toes, but he was left with a good feeling about the whole affair.

  Affair.

  A mental image of that Skye woman reappeared in his mind's eye. She was the no-nonsense type, he could tell. Probably hard-nosed, too. But the little guy inside his pants didn't seem to care. Mr. Moho was definitely interested in making her acquaintance.

  Shit, no. No way. Not after what he'd been through with Ramona.

  But if the horse throws you, you're supposed to get right back into that saddle, his conscience nagged him.

  I wasn't thrown, remember? I was shafted. There's a difference.

  Whatever. It was a bad marriage from the get-go, the little voice insisted, sounding vaguely like Vic's. You two should've never tied the knot in the first place. Admit it. You never really loved her.

  Yeah. Well, twenty-twenty hindsight. Guy sighed loudly. Maybe he'd known from the beginning that he and Ramona should never have gotten hitched. Their personalities were as different as night and day; they had very few, if any, common interests. But, truth be told, the sex had been out of this world.

  That's probably what had led them to believe that they needed to get married in the first place. Because of the great, flat-out, mind-blowing sex. With real balls-to-the-wall orgasms. Even the memory of some of their couplings made Mr. Moho stand up and reminisce.

  Guy gave a little growl of irritation as he started down the block toward the bar located on the corner. He'd call Vic from there to let him know he needed picking up, and pray he got a call back after Skye Blue discovered he had a clean bill of health, as well as a clean slate. The money would be a godsend if the job came through. And that Skye woman...

  With a small start, Guy also had to admit to himself that the job had just suddenly taken second place. Yeah, the extra pay should be his primary focus, but if that Skye woman just happened to be around, that would be like frosting on the cake.

  If that Sky woman happened to be around...

  He had the hunch she was the type who liked to keep a finger in every pie when it came to running daddy's company. If his hunch proved true, then it was almost a definite he would be seeing Miss Charlotte Skye again.

  Hmm.

  Without realizing it, Guy got a spring in his step as he continued down the sidewalk.

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  Photo

  Pamela dropped the stack of forms on Charlotte's desk. “Three hundred forty-three passed round one. Want to look them over?"

  Charlotte blearily glanced up from where she had been lying with her head down on crossed arms on her desk and blinked, still half asleep after a restless night. “That many?"

  "Hey. It got whittled down from the five hundred and two who originally walked through the doors. How about another cup of coffee?” Without waiting for an answer, the woman walked over to the small bar where a coffee maker was babysitting a freshly brewed pot.

  Resigned, Charlotte began leafing through the remaining candidates. Immediately she could see what her assistant was implying. “We need to dwindle it down a bit more."

  Pamela answered with a snort. “About three hundred more."

  Running her hands through her hair, Charlotte sat up in her seat. “Well, let's begin with medical history. Anyone with any kind of medical condition, delete them."

  "Any kind? No exceptions?"

  "No exceptions. If anything should happen to them medically, I don't want the company to be held libel. A lawsuit is the last thing we need."

  "But all the candidates already signed a medical waiver,” Pam reminded her.

  "I don't care. Diabetes, high blood pressure, history of heart problems, clear them out. I don't want to take the chance.” Moving aside a photo of a man with graying hair, Charlotte glanced at the man's date of birth. “Also, no one over the age of forty."

  "Got it.” Pamela set the coffee down on the desk next to her and left to follow through with her orders.

  Charlotte continued to leaf through the pile, giving a cursory glance to each snapshot, until she reached one in particular that made her pause. Unconsciously she pulled the form from the stack and sat back to read it.

  Guy David Stenson. Six-two, one hundred twenty. Twenty-nine years old. Employed at Duncraft.

  The next bit caught her attention. Marital status, divorced.

  Divorced? Could it be you need the money for alimony? she silently asked the snapshot.

  The dark-haired man stared back at her as if he could personally see her through the photograph. The effect was uncanny, and Charlotte involuntarily shivered.

  "What's your problem, Mr. Stenson, that you would donate yourself to my project? Hmm? Have any outstanding gambling debts?” It couldn't be because he needed the money for drugs. That was one stipulation she'd made very clear. No druggies on the payroll.

  Still, the man's face was mesmerizing, and made her wonder what the rest of him looked like. The shoulders appeared to be broad and well-built. Too bad it was only a head. Quickly, almost hesitantly, she scanned the rest of his info to see if her medical restriction would remove him. Thankfully there was nothing mentioned in the fact sheet. Not even a known allergy. As far as she could see, Mr. Stenson passed round two.

  And deep, deep down, she had the feeling Mr. Stenson, with those unfathomable dark eyes, would become one of her dependable dozen. Or, at least she hoped he would be. A simple photograph, and she was already feeling very wet between the thighs just thinking about it. And while being half-asleep at nine in the morning, that was quite an accomplishment.

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  Payment

  Not only was Skye Blue efficient, they were fast. By the time Guy arrived at Vic's apartment from work the next day, there was a note from his friend telling him the company had called. Guy was to report that evening to the Skye Blue business offices on Century Avenue. The complete address and phone number was jotted below in Vic's familiar scrawl. A twenty bill was also included.

  "Bless you, Vic,” Guy murmured, and hurried to catch a cab, mentally adding the twenty to his ever-growing IOU.

  After exiting the cab, he followed the small group of men heading into the lobby of the business office that housed Skye Blue. This time he noticed a distinct difference in the crowd. For one thing, there wasn't an older man in the bunch. At least, none that he would estimate to be over forty. The numbers also appeared to be thinning, making Guy wonder just how many applicants were left.

  A woman in a white lab coat standing near the elevators was checking off their names and directing them up to the fifth floor. Guy exited into the Skye Blue executive offices where the familiar baby blue logo was plastered across the wall behind the receptionist's desk. A woman standing in front of it had them go down the hall where a huge conference room was almost filled to capacity. Running a mental tally, he roughly estimated the number of applicants still left to be over a hundred. Guy wondered how far down the screening process they would go before the bigwigs decided on their final twelve.

  He parked himself in a corner, opting to hold up a wall, and crossed his arms over his chest rather than quarrel over a chair. Another quarter hour passed. Finally, the doors opened to let in Mr. Vice Chairman Belling and his entourage. Miss Charlotte Skye was the last to e
nter, Guy noted. She remained standing at the doorway, perusing the restless crowd, until she caught sight of him. Guy blinked. He could swear she almost did a double-take before she turned away.

  "Good evening, gentlemen,” Belling began. “You may have noticed the numbers have decreased significantly. That's because you not only passed the first round of eliminations, but you've passed the second round as well."

  Guy grunted softly. It would be interesting to know what the second round had been. But it was a moot point, considering he'd gotten this far.

  "Starting tonight, we will be interviewing each one of you, starting with a simple set of questions. If your answers are what we're looking for, you'll be called back tomorrow for a one-on-one with a member of our human resources department."

  As if on cue, two people stepped forward and started passing out papers. A third person had boxes of pens for those who needed one. Guy accepted his sheet and a pen with a nod of thanks, and turned to use the wall as backing.

  1. Would you be willing to physically test the product?

  Physically test? As in copulating? Did that mean there were female testers somewhere he didn't know about?

  Hell, Guy, get a grip. Maybe they're talking about jerking off. After all, condoms were supposed to be leak-proof, right?

  Guy wrote “yes” in the blank space.

  2. Are you adverse to testing a product that might challenge your manhood?

  "Huh?” That one came from left field. What did they mean, challenge his manhood?

  "What the..."

  "Is there a problem, sir?"

  That sinfully husky voice came from elbow level. He didn't need to turn around to know who was standing behind him. He already knew, and so did his dick. Still, it almost took a crowbar to pry his feet off the floor and get him to turn around to face her.

  She came up to his chest, her and that gloriously thick, reddish-brown head of hair that shined like a small sun underneath the recessed lights. Her eyes were wide and whiskey brown in color. And just below a slim nose were a pair of pale pink lips that didn't sport a hint of lipstick or collagen. Kissable lips. Too damn tempting lips, Guy admitted silently.