Like Mother, Like Daughter

As you sit at your desk your assistant hands you a portfolio, and you make a show of studying it, although you already know everything you need to about the blonde sitting across from the minimalist glass and metal desk in front of you, in front of the sweeping skyline views of the windows of the sparse corner office. Sarah Crawford, VP of Sales. 41. Has clearly put effort into looking younger. Divorced, one daughter, 18. Promoted to her job six months ago. Was a very good saleswoman. Not a very good VP. Looking into her light green eyes, you can see she knows this, and knows you know this.

“I’ll be plain, Ms. Crawford. Deadwood in senior management is one of the reasons I was able to buy this company out so cheaply last week,” you say, abruptly breaking the silence. “I don’t intend to have it snatched out from under me.”

“Mr. Drake, sir, please. I can improve. My daughter, she’s starting college in the fall…” she says.

“And you have considerable debt,” you interrupt. “Yes, I ran a background check. Probably shouldn’t have bought a new house and car so soon after your promotion.” You lean back. “I’m aware you have a lot to lose. But what do I have to gain by keeping you on?”

“I think you’ll find I’m a very hard worker, Mr. Drake,” she says, as she slips out of her jacket in a way that thrusts her chest forward. “I will do what it takes for this company, and you, to keep this job.” She leans forward, her red lips parted. Her pink top gives you a very good view of her significant cleavage.

You smile, slightly. You had suspected those sale numbers came from somewhere. “You’ll find I’m very demanding, Ms. Crawford,” you say. “I push to their limits. And beyond.”

She wets her lips and leans in still closer. “I’m no stranger to hard work, Mr. Drake. I’ll take on the hardest thing you have. Anywhere. Anytime,” she says breathily.