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Need and Greed
Rhonda knew she was window dressing for the visiting muckity mucks lending an air of class to the exquisite dressed out
executive suite over looking the colossal speedway. She was part of the massive make over. Her facial lines were more or less
angular with high cheekbones, severe sculptured lips, slender neck, and her stealthy cat like eyes were just as sharp. She
complimented the hard angles in glass and granite. The new breed of NASCAR’s power brokers had money to fuel the
renaissance. They spent and spent well transforming the tired 70s style executive suites with literally timeless building
materials from mother natures millennia.
France’s new executive enclave was beyond impressive with near seamless octagon walls of glass 20 feet tall to provide a
panorama of the entire track in one-way hi-tech energy saving sapphire blue tinted glass. The remaining rear walls were also
puzzled together in granite in light silvery gray, veined in burgundy built on an electric track opening to awe the special guests
for race time. Then to his private enclave apartment was walled in back lit onyx on the north walls sliding platforms to view the
track. Two interior walls of shear onyx back lit to bring alive the translucent pastel blue and lemon stone. Accenting the onyx
were cascading vertical jagged veins in vivid shades of pink and burgundy completing the sheets were intersecting diagonal
strikes of liquid gold running through the primary colors, it was a natural work of art, rich, real and spectacular. The artisans
were imported from Italy to fit the massive slabs that were hand picked from the side of the mountain by France Junior himself,
he met these old world masters on a trip to Europe by accident and was taken by the simplicity of these men who seemed to
be frozen in time from centuries gone by.
Rhonda felt at home surrounded in the decadent luxury, though she had never known such elegance it was a lifestyle she had
to have. She was well aware of the layout as the king of the track made every futile effort to acquaint her to the horizontal
attributes of his sophisticated enclave. She knew if she ever acquiesced to his sexual overtures, her reign as unofficial queen
would abruptly end; she would surely lose her key to the palace. Discretion was central in this cat and mouse competition. She
was unsure if he could actually cheat on his incapacitated wife. Anyone close knew of the tragedy that had befallen his life
long love. She was unable to accompany him in many ways through out there lives. Tragedy struck early and often from her
inability to pass on heirs leading up to the eventual mind blowing finale. Therefore, he required a stand in to social functions
obligating him to the spotlight. He was terribly alone in her absence with slow death destroying even the memories of their
fated storybook love. He often wondered had he been born in blue-collar cotton rather than high dollar silk could she steer
clear of the hideous thief of the mind. Rhonda was not one for pity but this was different, she could read the sadness that
slipped out of him periodically, she was fascinated by his lack of interest in money and his ability to dispense it so freely.
It was the second Monday of the month and this was what France had named the security counsel briefing. He had an eye for
raw talent and found her applying for any position before the demolition of the old executive suite. The meeting was magical
almost movie like in that their paths crossed as he headed for the tunnel and she excused herself from about twenty feet
asking directions to personnel office. Having no trouble getting his attention, he told her he would drop her at the office
pointing her in the right direction. He questioned her briefly and decided to create a new position, his personal assistant after
discovering a certain hardness about her that he found intriguing. When he told her to get in the 500 plus horse powered Viper
to inspect the south grand stand she did not blink as he took the first turn at a bit over 100 MPH, he glanced at her and noted
her sexy smirk. Her attire was not entirely appropriate for an interview; he pictured her in the reserved grandstands at any of
the Triple Crown’s. He noted the not overly snug but almost tailored look of pressed creased white jeans, accented with a
white v-necked top exposing a healthy hint of cleavage. She finished the ensemble wrapped in an aqua-blue blazer sporting a
gold vintage art deco lapel pin with a matching aqua cabochon stone. Her long rich wavy auburn hair was a striking contrast
against the bright aqua blazer. Her aura exuded an underlying confident danger. He quickly grew to like her, as his trousers
tightened from his expanding gender meter rousing to the occasion of the combo of dangerous speed and her pure sexual
allure….
She was window dressing but she kept him on schedule filtering the time wasters from clogging his itinerary. Typing, filing,
letter writing or any thing remotely connected with secretarial work was left to the regulars. She worked the easiest most
efficient full proof tool which was a lap top one of her two computers that were hers supplied by France, they were just a few of
the many gifts he would lavish on her with in the hopes that she would succumb to his unending advances. With both it was a
game he would try and she would fend him off. She lucked out as she often did being one step away from this benign spider’s
silk.
She like many came to the sunshine state to escape something. She left Ohio in the dead of winter practically bonded in the
grip of the addicting subculture of crack-cocaine. This job grounded her in addition to rewarding her out of the slimy confusion
into the clarity of affluence. She felt as if she were a leopard removed from a barren decease ridden jungle into a virginal
Garden of Eden. She embraced the rebirth and the potential for security that had been so illusive to her frozen tattered past.
She remembered the lesson of life in an infamous quote “Life is like an excrement sandwich the more bread you have the less
excrement you seem to eat”
She had little formal education past high school yet she is very articulate. Her veracious appetite for reading lent to her value a
cunning linguist, quite in command of the kings English able to communicate with the hierarchy of the mammoth money
machines industry of NASCAR. Her long auburn locks ensnared the attention she craved, the green-gold cat like eyes belied
the feline temptress of want. She measured her moves as a cat stalking prey. It was her gift that quenched her quiet thirst for
attention, trading her allure for the glitter of gold. She exchanged her destructive desirers for the brilliance of gold and gems. In
her 30-month treasure hunt, she had amassed a respectable haul filling her secret vault with both cash and trinkets. It was her
means to an end, after the days event she would be making yet another deposit as it was France’s habit after a successful
thrashing with his velvet tongue to secretly shower her limited affections with a fancy bauble. She was a tree of greed,
adorned in the late spring of her life with lush green leaves obscuring the branches nourishing nefarious unseen roots. The
wind could blow and expose those branches from time to time but no one ever see the tentacles clutching the dirt rooted in
want. Countless thousands have uprooted attempting a successful transplantation to warmer climes in a place they longed to
be, a sunshine state of mind, some take hold and other wither, she exploded in blossoms.
Rhonda knew she was window dressing for the visiting muckity mucks lending an air of class to the exquisite dressed out
executive suite over looking the colossal speedway. She was part of the massive make over. Her facial lines were more or less
angular with high cheekbones, severe sculptured lips, slender neck, and her stealthy cat like eyes were just as sharp. She
complimented the hard angles in glass and granite. The new breed of NASCAR’s power brokers had money to fuel the
renaissance. They spent and spent well transforming the tired 70s style executive suites with literally timeless building
materials from mother natures millennia.
France’s new executive enclave was beyond impressive with near seamless octagon walls of glass 20 feet tall to provide a
panorama of the entire track in one-way hi-tech energy saving sapphire blue tinted glass. The remaining rear walls were also
puzzled together in granite in light silvery gray, veined in burgundy built on an electric track opening to awe the special guests
for race time. Then to his private enclave apartment was walled in back lit onyx on the north walls sliding platforms to view the
track. Two interior walls of shear onyx back lit to bring alive the translucent pastel blue and lemon stone. Accenting the onyx
were cascading vertical jagged veins in vivid shades of pink and burgundy completing the sheets were intersecting diagonal
strikes of liquid gold running through the primary colors, it was a natural work of art, rich, real and spectacular. The artisans
were imported from Italy to fit the massive slabs that were hand picked from the side of the mountain by France Junior himself,
he met these old world masters on a trip to Europe by accident and was taken by the simplicity of these men who seemed to
be frozen in time from centuries gone by.
Rhonda felt at home surrounded in the decadent luxury, though she had never known such elegance it was a lifestyle she had
to have. She was well aware of the layout as the king of the track made every futile effort to acquaint her to the horizontal
attributes of his sophisticated enclave. She knew if she ever acquiesced to his sexual overtures, her reign as unofficial queen
would abruptly end; she would surely lose her key to the palace. Discretion was central in this cat and mouse competition. She
was unsure if he could actually cheat on his incapacitated wife. Anyone close knew of the tragedy that had befallen his life
long love. She was unable to accompany him in many ways through out there lives. Tragedy struck early and often from her
inability to pass on heirs leading up to the eventual mind blowing finale. Therefore, he required a stand in to social functions
obligating him to the spotlight. He was terribly alone in her absence with slow death destroying even the memories of their
fated storybook love. He often wondered had he been born in blue-collar cotton rather than high dollar silk could she steer
clear of the hideous thief of the mind. Rhonda was not one for pity but this was different, she could read the sadness that
slipped out of him periodically, she was fascinated by his lack of interest in money and his ability to dispense it so freely.
It was the second Monday of the month and this was what France had named the security counsel briefing. He had an eye for
raw talent and found her applying for any position before the demolition of the old executive suite. The meeting was magical
almost movie like in that their paths crossed as he headed for the tunnel and she excused herself from about twenty feet
asking directions to personnel office. Having no trouble getting his attention, he told her he would drop her at the office
pointing her in the right direction. He questioned her briefly and decided to create a new position, his personal assistant after
discovering a certain hardness about her that he found intriguing. When he told her to get in the 500 plus horse powered Viper
to inspect the south grand stand she did not blink as he took the first turn at a bit over 100 MPH, he glanced at her and noted
her sexy smirk. Her attire was not entirely appropriate for an interview; he pictured her in the reserved grandstands at any of
the Triple Crown’s. He noted the not overly snug but almost tailored look of pressed creased white jeans, accented with a
white v-necked top exposing a healthy hint of cleavage. She finished the ensemble wrapped in an aqua-blue blazer sporting a
gold vintage art deco lapel pin with a matching aqua cabochon stone. Her long rich wavy auburn hair was a striking contrast
against the bright aqua blazer. Her aura exuded an underlying confident danger. He quickly grew to like her, as his trousers
tightened from his expanding gender meter rousing to the occasion of the combo of dangerous speed and her pure sexual
allure….
She was window dressing but she kept him on schedule filtering the time wasters from clogging his itinerary. Typing, filing,
letter writing or any thing remotely connected with secretarial work was left to the regulars. She worked the easiest most
efficient full proof tool which was a lap top one of her two computers that were hers supplied by France, they were just a few of
the many gifts he would lavish on her with in the hopes that she would succumb to his unending advances. With both it was a
game he would try and she would fend him off. She lucked out as she often did being one step away from this benign spider’s
silk.
She like many came to the sunshine state to escape something. She left Ohio in the dead of winter practically bonded in the
grip of the addicting subculture of crack-cocaine. This job grounded her in addition to rewarding her out of the slimy confusion
into the clarity of affluence. She felt as if she were a leopard removed from a barren decease ridden jungle into a virginal
Garden of Eden. She embraced the rebirth and the potential for security that had been so illusive to her frozen tattered past.
She remembered the lesson of life in an infamous quote “Life is like an excrement sandwich the more bread you have the less
excrement you seem to eat”
She had little formal education past high school yet she is very articulate. Her veracious appetite for reading lent to her value a
cunning linguist, quite in command of the kings English able to communicate with the hierarchy of the mammoth money
machines industry of NASCAR. Her long auburn locks ensnared the attention she craved, the green-gold cat like eyes belied
the feline temptress of want. She measured her moves as a cat stalking prey. It was her gift that quenched her quiet thirst for
attention, trading her allure for the glitter of gold. She exchanged her destructive desirers for the brilliance of gold and gems. In
her 30-month treasure hunt, she had amassed a respectable haul filling her secret vault with both cash and trinkets. It was her
means to an end, after the days event she would be making yet another deposit as it was France’s habit after a successful
thrashing with his velvet tongue to secretly shower her limited affections with a fancy bauble. She was a tree of greed,
adorned in the late spring of her life with lush green leaves obscuring the branches nourishing nefarious unseen roots. The
wind could blow and expose those branches from time to time but no one ever see the tentacles clutching the dirt rooted in
want. Countless thousands have uprooted attempting a successful transplantation to warmer climes in a place they longed to
be, a sunshine state of mind, some take hold and other wither, she exploded in blossoms.
Rhonda