 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
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. He supped in Nino’s home for the endless afternoon
ritual. Nino accompanied the stone and crafters across the ocean much like pirates protecting
their bounty, he insisted to insure a perfect installation his own workers, which actually was
ironically far more cost effective than any American contractors with a less than desirable
product.
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. He supped in Nino’s home for the endless afternoon
ritual. Nino accompanied the stone and crafters across the ocean much like pirates protecting
their bounty, he insisted to insure a perfect installation his own workers, which actually was
ironically far more cost effective than any American contractors with a less than desirable
product.
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