There were groups of small, roughly hewn tables and matching chairs scattered haphazardly around the room. A pert waitress passed among the customers with a brass tray of beer glasses and other drinks. She was dressed in 18th Century fashion, except with an extremely short skirt, and she made sharp and slightly suggestive remarks to anybody who spoke to her. A couple of men were throwing darts at a circular cork board in one corner. Roger didn't recognize the shorter of the two, but the other man was definitely Cord.
Cord laughed as the other man stuck a dart in the wall next to the board, slapped the man on the back and turned. He saw Slater and raised a hand in greeting. "Roger! Over here, man!"
Roger made his way through the packed mass and reached Cord. "Sorry I'm late. Where is everybody?"
"They've all gone. It's just us two." Cord turned back to the man he had been playing with and said, "My friend is here. Thanks for the game."
"I owe you for two, I think," the stranger said good naturedly. "For someone who never played darts, you caught on pretty fast."
Cord laughed and together, he and Roger crossed to an empty table, leaving the other man standing alone. He took the chair next to the wall and gestured for the waitress. "That man over there owes me two beers," he told her when she arrived. "Serve one to me and one to him," he added, pointing to Roger. "And make it quick."
"I'll make it in my own sweet time," the girl snapped. She swung the tray around and walked off, her rear end twitching provocatively.
Cord laughed and then grinned at Roger. "She looks tempting. Right, Rog?"
Roger smiled back awkwardly. This was the first time he had been with Cord alone on a social occasion. He felt uncomfortable, over his head in new and strange waters. Cord was an over-powering force, he suddenly realized, somebody he would be entirely unable to cope with.
The beer appeared quickly and again the girl swished her skirt and jiggled the globoid cheeks of her ass at Cord. This time Cord leaned over and patted her thighs lightly. She turned and in mock anger told him to stop with the familiarity. He only patted her again. The scent of sex was heavy in the air. Cord merely had to say when and she'd ask him where, Roger thought to himself. He gripped the thick stein handle and drank deeply of the golden brew. It washed down his throat and he quaffed again. The waitress left, winking at them.
Cord lit a cigarette and sipped the beer and looked very earnestly at Roger. "I'll be honest with you," he said. "Actually, there was nobody else here. I only wanted you to come."
"But why…?"
"Why tell you that a group of us were meeting here? Simple. In case I was overheard by those pack of ears in the office. I didn't want them to know about it."
Roger's head buzzed. A warning bell rang in the back of his mind, but he couldn't figure why, any more than he could figure why Cord had gone to all this trouble. "I don't understand," he replied, frowning slightly.
"You know, Roger, that you've been noticed."
"Noticed?"
"In the office. You've shown ambition and a knowledge of the business, and you're young. You should go far with us."
Roger couldn't help but feel pleased. Cord only paused in his praise to order another round, and as Roger finished one beer the other appeared in its place.
"Our business, though," Cord continued, "has a great deal of politics." He took a final puff on his cigarette and put it out in the pewter ash tray. "In fact, those politics are often cruel and unjust, and to the unwary can be deadly."
"I've never tried to do anything to buy my job, Marc, if that's what you're driving at."
"No, no, I realize that," Cord replied. "You've been conscientious, and you've tried to be fair with everybody. Believe me, that's a refreshing change from the usual." He waved to the waitress that he wanted another round, and then refused to take the money Roger offered. "This is going on my expense account, Rog. I can afford it better than you. Just drink and listen to me." He paused again. "The office has been talking about Drake retiring soon, haven't they?"
Roger nodded. "I think Jim's due to leave next month, isn't he?"
"He is, and that means I'll be looking for a new general manager for my section. Now we both know that Willard Lewis wants that position, and that he's in line to get it."
"I thought that was pretty well settled. I mean, by the way Willard has been talking, I assumed…"
"Right," Cord said, breaking in. "He has an excellent record and has been with the company for a good many years. By all the written rules of good company policy, Roger, he deserves the job." Cord pursed his lips thoughtfully and then took a drink of beer. "Weigh his qualifications against anybody else's, and he's the man."
Roger's thoughts raced at what he imagined might be said next. Did this meeting represent… was Cord trying to offer him… damn it, was this all a lead-up to his appointment to the managerial position? His hand trembled as he drank, and the thrill of such an unlikely possibility coursed through him. God! He dare not dream of such an advancement!
"But this is where the politics I mentioned comes in," Cord said, interrupting Roger's reverie. "Business isn't always done by the rules, written or unwritten, and quite often it's a matter of manipulations."
"I'm afraid you've lost me."
Cord chuckled. "All right, Rog, I'll lay it on the line. In plain language, the promotion belongs to Lewis, but my intentions are to give it to you. Am I clear now?"
"I'm… overwhelmed, Marc! I truly am." Roger paused. His brain was spinning excitedly. "But you said politics. That's still a little…" He searched for the right word. "Unclear."
"Perfectly obvious to me. Lewis is old fashioned. He's too Goddamned set in his ways, and as I move up in the firm, he could be more of a liability than an asset. I'd hazard to say that he could even become a danger to me."
"And I wouldn't be, is that it?"
"I can trust a man who'll stay by me and guard my backside. You can be that man, Rog, if you want to be. You're interested in getting ahead, and you're young enough to see how sticking by me can help you. Let me break the ground, and you'll ride to the top with me, that I promise."
Roger was stunned. He quickly took another large swallow of beer. "That sounds fine with me, Marc. I'll… work for you in every way I can. You can count on me."
Cord offered his hand and Roger shook it, sealing the bargain. "I'm sure I can count on you, Rog," Cord said warmly. "I pride myself on analyzing character, and you're not the kind to think up clever schemes or angles, and stab me in the back."
For some reason Roger felt a pang of self-revulsion. "You're right, Marc. I don't have the guts for politics."
"I didn't say that, Roger."
"No, but it's true. I'm colorless, too staid and too quiet. I tend to climb into a safe little hole so that I won't see what's really going on in the world." Roger wondered why he was talking like this, especially to Cord. But then, hadn't his prospective new boss been candid with him, taking a chance by confiding in him? Embarrassed, Roger laughed self consciously and raised the beer glass. "Here's a toast, Marc," he said. "To the perfect combination of the swinger and the prude."
Cork clinked glasses, smiling broadly. "Here's to us, all right. But don't belittle yourself, Rog. I'm too flamboyant, and I think we can help each other. We're a good complement."
Feeling better from Cord's remarks, Roger threw his head back and drained his beer. Cord motioned for the waitress again and ordered another round. She left and Cord said to Roger, "After this drink, let's go some place else. You know, find some action, have a little fun maybe."
Roger was tempted. He was more tempted than ever before in his married life. The idea of a hot, unknown pussy crawling and heaving around his pistoning cock made his head swim with desire, and he felt his prick engorge and stiffen in his pants. He needed a good fuck tonight, and Diane was definitely not that. Then he remembered he had promised her he would be home early this evening, for some special reason she had refused to elaborate upon. In spite of his sexual hunger, he had to admit that he still loved her, and that he was a man who kept his promises. He wanted to pound the table in frustration.