Dr. Brenner had the relaxed disposition I planned on feigning for him. I say feigning, because at this moment, I felt that all the confidence I felt earlier has disappeared the moment he held his hand out to me for the handshake. That is just the thing with good looking, dark haired, tall professionals and how easily they turn into honey fucking combs for me. I am utterly bewitched by them, and this is why when he, the dead and golden haired one, came to my life, I was still in control of myself. His golden hair, blue eyes were not things I succumbed to and he did not know it. I suppose before he died, I may have slipped that he will not, couldn't possess me. And that my weakness lied within the deep sea green eyes of dark haired men. My girlfriends always said I preferred chocolate over vanilla. Oh, but they had no idea how chocolate my dead mentor really was. He was made of deviancy, depravity and cruelty no other human can possess. And he's gone now. And here before me, is this lovely, just lovely dark haired, tall and very elegant Dr. Brenner. "Isabel Warner, is it?" Dr. Brenner intoned, breaking me from my reverie. He still has my hand. I can feel his heat emanating from the very same hand. "Isabeau, Dr. Brenner, with a b-e-a-u in the end. Pronounced like a bow as in bow and arrow." I corrected him, matter of fact. I felt with my father naming me, it has saved me many awkward moments of anxiety when met by men who represent the very weakness in my core. He smiled warmly after hearing me correct his perceived notion on my name. It was as if he welcomed a woman being right over him, no matter how insignificant the reason may be. I really like that, and if I am wrong in reading this gesture, then, what harm does it do? I have a feeling that Dr. Brenner will be like a sweet orange to peel slowly, savoring the scent at first, before tasting the fruit. I'd break my "no fraternizing of any kind" clause for him. As a matter of fact, I think I'd like "any kind" with him. "You have some figures to show me, as I understand. And these figures can be changed, if, shall I say, I disagree with the digits, correct?" He asked me straight and without hesitance. I told him confidently that he was going to like the figures. We sat down and went over his numbers and I noticed that each time I spoke; his eyes would focus on my lips. I wondered if my lips were doing that shit again, quivering when I am excited. He made me feel very conscious, but I didn't let on and I didn't stammer or hesitated with each word; explaining in detail what my projection of his practice will be. When I mentioned the millions he will make, his eyes registered a slight interest. It wasn't the reaction I expected. Hell, this man before me defied every expectation scenario I have pictured in my mind. I wish he would stop looking at my lips intently as if there is something between my teeth or as if he wants to reach out and touch them. I really rather he goes for the second possible "what if" and I would be a happy camper. I laughed secretly at myself for objectifying the man beside me. Heaven knows, if it was the other way around, I would throw a fit that even the most spoiled child would be shocked. The moment came where I finally have to listen to what he has to say after I have finished my presentation of his finances to him and to be honest, I was not as confident as when I have entered the conference room to meet with him. He studied the numbers again and went through every statement contained in the documents I handed him. His eyes finally left my lips and I was relieved. I studied his features and as his hands trace the line by line items on the paper, I imagined his long, manly fingers tracing my very skin. His hands over my shoulders, slowly moving down to my breasts and get a hold of your fucking self, I thought to myself as this imagination of mine is running amok and I am not usually this centered on sex. And then, the worse thing happened as my mind drifted to the funeral just yesterday. I wondered what Dr. Brenner was doing there and if he knew the man I just buried yesterday. Why has he not mentioned it? Did he not remember handing me his handkerchief? Well, I will be darned if he doesn't and perhaps a little disappointed that I had not made an impression on him. A little disappointed is actually an understatement.
Suddenly, I was transported to a western saloon where every goddamn whore in the upper floor of the saloon has their johns all lined up to bed them and pay them for their graceful services and I was the only whore who was not selected. And as if my imagination will not get more horrifying than the thought alone, the barkeep packs my bag and kicks me out of his establishment for not bringing in any profits. And my fucking imagination is so severe; I can almost literally see myself standing in the middle of the desert with only tumbleweeds being blown by harsh winds, now and then, as my only company. I giggled at the morbid directions my own thoughts carry me to and without intending it, I giggled outwardly and not just to myself. He heard me. His hands stopped the slow and steady movements they made on the documents. What was even more disconcerting was the fact that he did not look at me right away. He just stared at the document but I can feel his thoughts were directed at me. I don't know if he was irritated that I distracted him by giggling or that I amused him. Then, he spoke; "You're very pleased with yourself, I hope you don't mind that I finish the conclusion to your terms on this contract before celebrating. Thank you, Isabeau." I was flabbergasted. How dare he insinuate that I am so arrogant I applaud myself in such a manner? Then, I realized, what else my silly child's laughter could mean to him other than the fact that it has to do with his practice's financials. How can he possibly guess that in a matter of an hour since meeting him that I am on the verge of breaking down and about to relive my awkward teenage years when every cheerleading, split dancing, fucking Heather or Stacy chick in my high school, had their eyes on whoever I was going out with at the time. And girls did that because they were mean that way. It was the natural order of things when it came to high school angst. Oh, but I was the queen bee of all angst in high school. Boys were mystified with me and girls envied me, even the Heathers and the Stacys. But my heart belonged to a rebel sort, so I was literally unavailable even when I dated Ken jocks back in those days, rendering the cheerleading squad hateful of me. I was also the type of gal who was a complete "island". Fuck whoever said no man is an island, since I can be all by my lonesome self and was happier, than having to exchange fake smiles and phony social interactions with teens my age. I was a walking contradiction, even then. And as I grew into the woman that I am, albeit just 10 years ahead, I still feel like a walking contradiction, but this time around, I can actually support my independent and angst filled lifestyle. At least now, my mother and father can't obligate me to play nice with distant relatives coming to visit, or else. The or else part was something I used to hate but as years passed, I came to find the humor in it. Play nice with Aunt Susie or else, you're grounded. Or else your allowance is cut off, Or else no Batman DVD. There were so many or else coming from both of my parents, I used to wonder what else they could come up with in terms of the severity of my trespass against the distant relatives. And for fuck's sakes, it did not help I was the only child. My whole teenage years was a slew of hateful and bitchy cheerleaders, who were too afraid to really do something about said hate, horny but can't even unsnap brassieres, dumb as doorknob jocks and tons of or else from Mommy and Daddy.
Dr. Brenner started tapping his fingers on the table while still staring at the documents before him. Again, I was left in that stupid A or B zone where I can't tell whether he's displeased with the contract or whether he's decided that he can do better by employing our firm's competitors. I can't stand it any longer, I finally asked; "Is there something you do not agree with in the contract? Would you like me to revise anything?" and then he did the unthinkable. He raised his finger to his lips to gesture to me that he was still thinking and I shouldn't interrupt him. And it happened! My mind immediately reverted back to that moment, when I was tied up and blindfolded by the same fucking guy I shot, when I kept asking him to untie me and he finally pulled the blindfold off my face and he raised his finger to his lips, motioning me to be quiet. My blood went straight to my head and I snapped at the good doctor, "Don't do that! Don't you ever motion or gesture to me to keep quiet! How dare you? Find your own fucking consultant, doctor, because I am not doing business with you! Go to hell and you know where you can insert that goddamn finger shushing me!" and before I know it, my hand snatched the contract from his hands; I was on my feet and roughly shoving the documents in my briefcase. In the corner of my eyes, I saw the doctor smiling. He was amused. He thought my reaction was not over the top, or reprehensible. The son of a bitch is literally amused at my outburst! I quickly shut my eyes closed and imagined it was him I accidentally shot and fatally wounded. I glanced at him, picked up my briefcase and hurriedly went towards the door. That was when he stood up and blocked me. His hands went to my arms as he said; "Please stay. I apologize. It was just that when you giggled, you reminded me of my niece who constantly interrupts me when I am trying to dictate my surgery reports and shushing you was rude. Please forgive me for the knee jerk reaction." And it happened. Just when I thought the possible difference between the one and only man I loathed and knew and Dr. Brenner will not be made obvious, it finally did. With just one simple apology, their similarity ended. And Dr. Brenner's explanation was not a made up excuse, it was legitimate. I looked into the doctor's eyes and saw sincerity and the amused smile I saw in the corner of my eyes earlier, concluded that he really thought I reminded him of his niece. "Would you please reconsider and accept my apology?" He asked me. I stared at him some more, speechless at the green shade of his eyes. It was deep green and deeply honest, as though he stood there stark naked in front of me. I nodded instead of saying yes because for some odd reason, I felt my gesture would be more than sufficient, instead of croaking the word to him. He gave me that relaxed smile, once more as I headed towards the long, conference table and placed my briefcase on it, once again.
Dr. Brenner did not follow me immediately towards the table. I looked back and I saw him studying me. He was looking at my ass and my legs but his gaze quickly went up to my hair when he realized I was aware he was looking at me. And for the third time since meeting him, I was left again with that self doubting choice of A and B. Was he pleased with what he was looking at or was he having doubts about keeping me as his financial consultant? It dawned on me that these were not the only moments I will have these self doubting questions placed on me by my own hypercritical mind, when I have to work with him for two years. And then I wondered if I will be able to deal with the consequences of working with him closely. I might as well take the bull by the horns, I thought to myself and proceeded to ask him, "Do you like what you see, doctor?" and I made sure that when I asked him, my eyes were fixed steadily on his eyes. As if to put me off again, he winced at my question. That reaction was not something I even have to guess, it was right before me. This man is not interested in me, not in the sense I had hoped, but he really was only into hiring the best possible consultant to make him richer than he already is and at that moment, I felt humiliated by my over confidence. In other words, that simple facial reaction he had for my question just put me in my place. By god, now I have to apologize for my presumptuous question! I decided to get it over and done with so we can proceed with our business meeting and so I can bury my head deep in the bowels of earth so no one can ever lay eyes on my conceited, egotistical person ever again. "I'm sorry for that question, doctor. I had no right to assume that you were checking me out in that manner. Please accept my apology." I stated to him, half sorry and half defiantly. I did not sound as sincere as he did when he apologized. I felt flushed and hostile when I shouldn't be. I am not an arrogant fool but I have seen men fawn at me and the nonchalant reaction of the good doctor to my physical appearance is new to me and leaves me bewildered. He nodded his head to accept my apology and he moved towards one of the chairs in the room. I noticed that he did not pick the chair next to me; instead, he sat right across me. Just when I was praying that the earth should open up and swallow me whole from the embarrassing position I found myself in, he spoke, with the same calm demeanor he has displayed since I have arrived. "I like what I see and decided to sit right across the view of that which I like." He said in a cool, collected manner. I don't know if I heard him right or not, but I found my lips curling into a coy smile. I forced my lips to stop smiling but was unsuccessful. And before I could ask him why he winced when I asked the question, furthering my impulsiveness and complete lack of social filter, he spoke again. "I winced because I was taken aback that you actually caught me appreciating your physical appearance. It was unprofessional of me to even do that. But I am just a man, Isabeau." He said my name beautifully. And sensually, that I felt my lower belly longed for his tongue, if the case may be that he and I did the horizontal mambo in the future. How easily I forgave him and how purposeful he was when he started firing the questions to me. Would I be consulted by his accountants, would I be consulted if he were to add more physicians in his practice in the future, would I be consulted by his marketing team, would I report to him if his financial status is fluctuating with the economy, etc.?
I was impressed and completely on top of my game giving him the answers. We went over the contract again and then he got up and came towards me. I watched his hand go inside his left breast pocket and came out with a very expensive looking pen. "Where do sign on these pages? I see I have to initial some paragraphs first then sign my name below, but can you make sure I will be signing the line where you require my acknowledgment and my agreement?" He asked as he leaned over my shoulders. I can smell his cologne. It was not overwhelming, rather, it was musky, manly, and understated you have to be very close to him to get a faint scent of it. It was also hormonally inviting, and god, it just smells so nice on him, mixed with his chemistry. He knew where to sign on the documents but I wasn't going to call him out on the excuse he just made to get close to me. I was starting to see a potential of enjoying the working relationship filled with electricity with this man. I showed him where to sign and as we went through each page, the closer he got to me and the headier I felt with his scent. He was silent the whole time he was signing the documents and the sound of the pages turning were the only sound you can hear, but maybe, just maybe, he can hear how hard my heart was beating. I wished at that moment I can hear his heartbeat. We were having a real connection, a spark of some sort and there definitely was sexual tension but maybe it was only from me. There I was self doubting again. By the time this contract is done, I will need therapy for all the self doubts I am going to experience from this doctor. We finally reached the end of the contract and that was when it occurred to me that he did not even consult with his attorney first, before signing the documents. I received an email from my boss last night that Dr. Brenner may require an attorney's presence before signing up with our firm. "You signed without an attorney present, are you that confident in me?" I managed to ask him. He nodded. He had a wry smile on his face as if telling me not to let him down and even if I did, that it would be okay. Dr. Brenner is proving to be an enigma. I gathered everything and told him he will receive his copies via a courier and confidently offered my hand to him as I thanked him for his business. He held my hand longer than I expected and when he thanked me back for taking him as a client to our firm, his eyes registered gratefulness. He has very expressive eyes. The kind which you can immediately tell if there are any deceits, malice or deviance intended. I welcome that. God only knows I have seen so many frauds in our business. And they come in all shapes and sizes and some even have only the intentions of trying to date me. I humorously call them "despetiques" a cross between desperate and pathetic, which was originally coined by my dead mentor. Dr. Brenner also asked politely that since we would be working closely for the next twenty four months, that I call him by his first name, instead of addressing him as doctor. I have agreed. Had he called me by my last name, I would have asked him the same. I graciously headed towards the door, but he was fast to beat me to it and offered to walk me to the elevators. As we headed towards the reception desk, he finally mentioned the funeral. "How do you know Hank?" He asked. I was taken by surprise since Henry hated to be called Hank as though it made him human, and on equal footing with mere mortals. Ah, yes, Henry was the ultimate arrogance incarnate. He deemed himself above everyone else when he was alive. I replied as emotionally removed as I can and simply said, "We saw each other, now and then. What about you? How do you know Henry?" I turned the question on him. The elevator door opened and I got in the car and Christopher Phillip Brenner answered with; "Hank was my half brother. Maternal half brother." And the elevator door closed between us.
Suddenly, I was transported to a western saloon where every goddamn whore in the upper floor of the saloon has their johns all lined up to bed them and pay them for their graceful services and I was the only whore who was not selected. And as if my imagination will not get more horrifying than the thought alone, the barkeep packs my bag and kicks me out of his establishment for not bringing in any profits. And my fucking imagination is so severe; I can almost literally see myself standing in the middle of the desert with only tumbleweeds being blown by harsh winds, now and then, as my only company. I giggled at the morbid directions my own thoughts carry me to and without intending it, I giggled outwardly and not just to myself. He heard me. His hands stopped the slow and steady movements they made on the documents. What was even more disconcerting was the fact that he did not look at me right away. He just stared at the document but I can feel his thoughts were directed at me. I don't know if he was irritated that I distracted him by giggling or that I amused him. Then, he spoke; "You're very pleased with yourself, I hope you don't mind that I finish the conclusion to your terms on this contract before celebrating. Thank you, Isabeau." I was flabbergasted. How dare he insinuate that I am so arrogant I applaud myself in such a manner? Then, I realized, what else my silly child's laughter could mean to him other than the fact that it has to do with his practice's financials. How can he possibly guess that in a matter of an hour since meeting him that I am on the verge of breaking down and about to relive my awkward teenage years when every cheerleading, split dancing, fucking Heather or Stacy chick in my high school, had their eyes on whoever I was going out with at the time. And girls did that because they were mean that way. It was the natural order of things when it came to high school angst. Oh, but I was the queen bee of all angst in high school. Boys were mystified with me and girls envied me, even the Heathers and the Stacys. But my heart belonged to a rebel sort, so I was literally unavailable even when I dated Ken jocks back in those days, rendering the cheerleading squad hateful of me. I was also the type of gal who was a complete "island". Fuck whoever said no man is an island, since I can be all by my lonesome self and was happier, than having to exchange fake smiles and phony social interactions with teens my age. I was a walking contradiction, even then. And as I grew into the woman that I am, albeit just 10 years ahead, I still feel like a walking contradiction, but this time around, I can actually support my independent and angst filled lifestyle. At least now, my mother and father can't obligate me to play nice with distant relatives coming to visit, or else. The or else part was something I used to hate but as years passed, I came to find the humor in it. Play nice with Aunt Susie or else, you're grounded. Or else your allowance is cut off, Or else no Batman DVD. There were so many or else coming from both of my parents, I used to wonder what else they could come up with in terms of the severity of my trespass against the distant relatives. And for fuck's sakes, it did not help I was the only child. My whole teenage years was a slew of hateful and bitchy cheerleaders, who were too afraid to really do something about said hate, horny but can't even unsnap brassieres, dumb as doorknob jocks and tons of or else from Mommy and Daddy.
Dr. Brenner started tapping his fingers on the table while still staring at the documents before him. Again, I was left in that stupid A or B zone where I can't tell whether he's displeased with the contract or whether he's decided that he can do better by employing our firm's competitors. I can't stand it any longer, I finally asked; "Is there something you do not agree with in the contract? Would you like me to revise anything?" and then he did the unthinkable. He raised his finger to his lips to gesture to me that he was still thinking and I shouldn't interrupt him. And it happened! My mind immediately reverted back to that moment, when I was tied up and blindfolded by the same fucking guy I shot, when I kept asking him to untie me and he finally pulled the blindfold off my face and he raised his finger to his lips, motioning me to be quiet. My blood went straight to my head and I snapped at the good doctor, "Don't do that! Don't you ever motion or gesture to me to keep quiet! How dare you? Find your own fucking consultant, doctor, because I am not doing business with you! Go to hell and you know where you can insert that goddamn finger shushing me!" and before I know it, my hand snatched the contract from his hands; I was on my feet and roughly shoving the documents in my briefcase. In the corner of my eyes, I saw the doctor smiling. He was amused. He thought my reaction was not over the top, or reprehensible. The son of a bitch is literally amused at my outburst! I quickly shut my eyes closed and imagined it was him I accidentally shot and fatally wounded. I glanced at him, picked up my briefcase and hurriedly went towards the door. That was when he stood up and blocked me. His hands went to my arms as he said; "Please stay. I apologize. It was just that when you giggled, you reminded me of my niece who constantly interrupts me when I am trying to dictate my surgery reports and shushing you was rude. Please forgive me for the knee jerk reaction." And it happened. Just when I thought the possible difference between the one and only man I loathed and knew and Dr. Brenner will not be made obvious, it finally did. With just one simple apology, their similarity ended. And Dr. Brenner's explanation was not a made up excuse, it was legitimate. I looked into the doctor's eyes and saw sincerity and the amused smile I saw in the corner of my eyes earlier, concluded that he really thought I reminded him of his niece. "Would you please reconsider and accept my apology?" He asked me. I stared at him some more, speechless at the green shade of his eyes. It was deep green and deeply honest, as though he stood there stark naked in front of me. I nodded instead of saying yes because for some odd reason, I felt my gesture would be more than sufficient, instead of croaking the word to him. He gave me that relaxed smile, once more as I headed towards the long, conference table and placed my briefcase on it, once again.
Dr. Brenner did not follow me immediately towards the table. I looked back and I saw him studying me. He was looking at my ass and my legs but his gaze quickly went up to my hair when he realized I was aware he was looking at me. And for the third time since meeting him, I was left again with that self doubting choice of A and B. Was he pleased with what he was looking at or was he having doubts about keeping me as his financial consultant? It dawned on me that these were not the only moments I will have these self doubting questions placed on me by my own hypercritical mind, when I have to work with him for two years. And then I wondered if I will be able to deal with the consequences of working with him closely. I might as well take the bull by the horns, I thought to myself and proceeded to ask him, "Do you like what you see, doctor?" and I made sure that when I asked him, my eyes were fixed steadily on his eyes. As if to put me off again, he winced at my question. That reaction was not something I even have to guess, it was right before me. This man is not interested in me, not in the sense I had hoped, but he really was only into hiring the best possible consultant to make him richer than he already is and at that moment, I felt humiliated by my over confidence. In other words, that simple facial reaction he had for my question just put me in my place. By god, now I have to apologize for my presumptuous question! I decided to get it over and done with so we can proceed with our business meeting and so I can bury my head deep in the bowels of earth so no one can ever lay eyes on my conceited, egotistical person ever again. "I'm sorry for that question, doctor. I had no right to assume that you were checking me out in that manner. Please accept my apology." I stated to him, half sorry and half defiantly. I did not sound as sincere as he did when he apologized. I felt flushed and hostile when I shouldn't be. I am not an arrogant fool but I have seen men fawn at me and the nonchalant reaction of the good doctor to my physical appearance is new to me and leaves me bewildered. He nodded his head to accept my apology and he moved towards one of the chairs in the room. I noticed that he did not pick the chair next to me; instead, he sat right across me. Just when I was praying that the earth should open up and swallow me whole from the embarrassing position I found myself in, he spoke, with the same calm demeanor he has displayed since I have arrived. "I like what I see and decided to sit right across the view of that which I like." He said in a cool, collected manner. I don't know if I heard him right or not, but I found my lips curling into a coy smile. I forced my lips to stop smiling but was unsuccessful. And before I could ask him why he winced when I asked the question, furthering my impulsiveness and complete lack of social filter, he spoke again. "I winced because I was taken aback that you actually caught me appreciating your physical appearance. It was unprofessional of me to even do that. But I am just a man, Isabeau." He said my name beautifully. And sensually, that I felt my lower belly longed for his tongue, if the case may be that he and I did the horizontal mambo in the future. How easily I forgave him and how purposeful he was when he started firing the questions to me. Would I be consulted by his accountants, would I be consulted if he were to add more physicians in his practice in the future, would I be consulted by his marketing team, would I report to him if his financial status is fluctuating with the economy, etc.?
I was impressed and completely on top of my game giving him the answers. We went over the contract again and then he got up and came towards me. I watched his hand go inside his left breast pocket and came out with a very expensive looking pen. "Where do sign on these pages? I see I have to initial some paragraphs first then sign my name below, but can you make sure I will be signing the line where you require my acknowledgment and my agreement?" He asked as he leaned over my shoulders. I can smell his cologne. It was not overwhelming, rather, it was musky, manly, and understated you have to be very close to him to get a faint scent of it. It was also hormonally inviting, and god, it just smells so nice on him, mixed with his chemistry. He knew where to sign on the documents but I wasn't going to call him out on the excuse he just made to get close to me. I was starting to see a potential of enjoying the working relationship filled with electricity with this man. I showed him where to sign and as we went through each page, the closer he got to me and the headier I felt with his scent. He was silent the whole time he was signing the documents and the sound of the pages turning were the only sound you can hear, but maybe, just maybe, he can hear how hard my heart was beating. I wished at that moment I can hear his heartbeat. We were having a real connection, a spark of some sort and there definitely was sexual tension but maybe it was only from me. There I was self doubting again. By the time this contract is done, I will need therapy for all the self doubts I am going to experience from this doctor. We finally reached the end of the contract and that was when it occurred to me that he did not even consult with his attorney first, before signing the documents. I received an email from my boss last night that Dr. Brenner may require an attorney's presence before signing up with our firm. "You signed without an attorney present, are you that confident in me?" I managed to ask him. He nodded. He had a wry smile on his face as if telling me not to let him down and even if I did, that it would be okay. Dr. Brenner is proving to be an enigma. I gathered everything and told him he will receive his copies via a courier and confidently offered my hand to him as I thanked him for his business. He held my hand longer than I expected and when he thanked me back for taking him as a client to our firm, his eyes registered gratefulness. He has very expressive eyes. The kind which you can immediately tell if there are any deceits, malice or deviance intended. I welcome that. God only knows I have seen so many frauds in our business. And they come in all shapes and sizes and some even have only the intentions of trying to date me. I humorously call them "despetiques" a cross between desperate and pathetic, which was originally coined by my dead mentor. Dr. Brenner also asked politely that since we would be working closely for the next twenty four months, that I call him by his first name, instead of addressing him as doctor. I have agreed. Had he called me by my last name, I would have asked him the same. I graciously headed towards the door, but he was fast to beat me to it and offered to walk me to the elevators. As we headed towards the reception desk, he finally mentioned the funeral. "How do you know Hank?" He asked. I was taken by surprise since Henry hated to be called Hank as though it made him human, and on equal footing with mere mortals. Ah, yes, Henry was the ultimate arrogance incarnate. He deemed himself above everyone else when he was alive. I replied as emotionally removed as I can and simply said, "We saw each other, now and then. What about you? How do you know Henry?" I turned the question on him. The elevator door opened and I got in the car and Christopher Phillip Brenner answered with; "Hank was my half brother. Maternal half brother." And the elevator door closed between us.