2015 Teaser 03 - Director Jekyll and Ms. Hidesnothing 02 (Bankers' Hours)

This one took a bit more time to put together, as I wanted to include an ENTIRE scene.  It is a non-sexual scene, but it gives a good foreshadowing of events to come (cum?).

When we first left off with Director Jekyll and Ms. Hidesnothing, our protagonist--Heather--had recently won a huge multi-billion dollar contract between her financial firm and the largest Argentinian bank in South America.  To celebrate, her and her husband were attending a party one of her old college friends was putting on, an extravagant barn party for the rich and elite.

Heather was dressed as a sexy Farmer's Daughter, while her husband was dressed as a well-to-do redneck, his coveralls too clean and his entire demeanor too refined for an actual country boy.

Unfortunately on the way to the party their car ran out of gas in the Podunks of Georgia.  After waiting for hours in the hot Georgia sun, they finally saw relief in the way of an old pick-up truck driving down the road, driven by two 'good ol' country boys' who offered to take them to the nearest gas station.

While her husband rode in the back of the pickup, our protagonist sat between the two hunky farmhands, who made pass after pass at her, while her husband watched from the back of the pickup.  Having had fantasies about watching his wife with other men, when it came time to go back to their car, it was suggested Heather travel in the back with the two farmhands while her husband drove.

You can read the rest of the story, how the wife fucked and sucked both farmhands, and later discovering they were actually interns for the wife, who had set the whole thing up for her husband's enjoyment.

This second chapter takes place a few months afterwards.  Sadly, the contract she worked so hard to get signed has met some snags, leaving not only her job, but her entire firm in jeopardy.  In order to stop the contract from falling through, her senior partners have demanded she personally go to Argentina and salvage what she can with the contract.  Being such a huge contract and wanting to keep things in their favor, they suggested Heather take her husband as a mediator for the contract, not divulging to the Argentinian bank the true nature of Tim's relationship with Heather, they instead tell her to have him simply be a third-party contractor hired to oversee the negotiations.

This scene is taken early in the chapter, when the couple first arrives in Argentina...

Tim’s bags—a medium suitcase and garment bag—were already sitting right beside their carry-on laptop cases, being the first items to arrive on the conveyor belt as they played the inevitable game of watching luggage go round and round the carousel, waiting for Heather’s bags along with everybody else.  She watched what appeared to be identical luggage go by several times as people made the moves to grab a suitcase, only realizing it was not there’s and letting it pass.

It never ceased to amaze Heather how two people could check-in at the same time, yet their luggage would always be delivered at completely opposite times.

After forty-five minutes of watching luggage circle around the carousel, they realized there were no longer any new bags being placed upon the conveyor belt. 

Leaving Heather to guard his luggage, Tim went to check on when the rest of the bags would be released.  After only a few minutes Heather saw her husband return—with a sour face—as he told her all the bags on the plane had been released.  Gathering what bags they had recovered, she followed her husband through the crowd to wait in line with other irate and upset passengers.

Another thirty minutes found them standing at the Copa Airlines baggage desk, a dismayed Heather translating to her husband the discovery of her bags somehow having been placed on the wrong plane.  Even at this very moment her entire set of luggage was currently sitting in a Paris terminal—and even worse, the discovery the bags would not be brought to her until sometime Tuesday!

“You don’t understand, I HAVE to have my luggage!” she told the attendant furtively in Spanish.

The attendant replied the same, as Heather translated to her husband, “Ma’am, I understand.  Unfortunately there is nothing we can do about it.  Your luggage will be placed upon the first flight out, but as we have no direct flights from Paris to Buenos Aires, it will take some time for them to arrive here on their final destination,” the clerk told her.

“But can’t you use another airline?” she said in exasperation.  “I’m sure there has to be a direct flight to here from somebody!” she said plaintively

“I’m sorry Senora, I’ve checked and called all the other airlines, and the only direct flights leave late tomorrow afternoon--your luggage will not arrive any faster,” she told them apologetically.

“You don’t understand, I NEED my luggage!” she exclaimed in dismay, her raised voice drawing looks from those around.

Heather was completely frazzled.  Everything she needed for the meeting tomorrow was in those bags, from underwear to stockings to her business suits.  Sure she could get toiletries from the hotel—they were staying in a nice enough hotel to offer full amenities, but she could not go to a meeting dressed as she was!

Being the calming voice of reason, Tim pulled her aside after thanking the clerk and giving her their hotel information.  Once the luggage arrived it would be sent directly to them, but Heather was still frantic.

“Goddamnit, everything is in those bags,” she told her husband desperately.  “Jesus Chris, the only thing I have to wear is what I’m wearing now—how the fuck am I going to meet Hector Chacon in yoga pants and a t-shirt!” she said woefully.

“We’ll find something,” her husband said, with that irrational male attitude, as if not having anything to wear to a one of the most crucial business meetings in her career was not the end of the world.  “I’m sure we can find some twenty-four hour clothing store around, let’s just go to the hotel and we’ll talk to the concierge and see what they can do,” he told her.  “I’m sure this isn’t the first time a customer has not had their luggage arrive with them,” he said, again in that calming voice—which pissed her off even more.

Heather was a complete mental wreck, and it took quite some time for Tim to talk her into finally agreeing with him and going to the hotel to check in before finding something to wear.

“If worse comes to worse, we call Mr. Chacon and move the meeting to later in the day,” he told her.  “That will give you time in the morning to at least find a nice business suit,” he rationalized to her.

Although she agreed with her husband, Heather was a jumble of nerves as they rode in the cab—the cab driver making no pretense about watching her tits bounce more than the road. 

“Could you try to hit more of those pot holes?” she asked him in Spanish, exasperated at everything going on.

Heather did not care if she was rude or not, more worried about her luggage being seven thousand miles away than some cabbie getting a cheap thrill at her jiggling flesh.

As with everything that went wrong when she was so stressed out, even the slightest things going wrong seem like mountains, and Heather became quite vocal to the cabbie when they were caught in late-night construction on the roads, the cab driver explaining much of downtown was like this in the evenings.

Too concerned over her lost luggage to care about the cabbie fixating on her breasts in the cropped shirt, she was glad when they finally made it through the stop-and-go traffic and arrived at the hotel.  Although she was somewhat ashamed when Tim apologized for her to the cabbie, she was still too exasperated at the loss of her clothes to worry about her husband giving the cabbie a larger tip than usual, rushing into the lobby to check in while the cabbie thanked Tim, who followed her a few moments later.

By the time Tim caught up with her, Heather was frantic, the concierge telling her there were no twenty-four hour stores anywhere nearby.

“You can’t tell me there isn’t an all-night Wal-Mart or some shit in the entire goddamn capital of the country!” Heather exclaimed, her worry making her completely irrational as Tim tried to quiet her down.

"I'm sorry Senora,” the concierge was explaining, “but Carnival is close and all the stores have been closing early to let their employees participate,” he was telling the woman who was on the verge of tears.

Tim was barely able to calm her down and get Heather to her room.  Once entering the suite, he was floored at the extravagant decorations—Heather’s company h ad spared no expense for their Director’s comfort; however, Heather was much too upset to notice their surroundings.

Meanwhile his wife was pacing the room, threatening to wear out the plush carpeting before the night was out.

“What the fuck am I going to do?” she said worriedly.

Tim knew if it were not for the fact concern about the Argentinian contract, she would not be in such a frazzled state.  This was not the first time their luggage had been misplaced, and it would obviously not be the last; however, the precipitous position of not only her job, but those of her company were foremost on her mind. 

For what was not the first time that night, Tim regretted the necessity of traveling with their laptops and business materials as carry-ons, making them unable to bring any of their clothes on the flight and leaving situations such as this a possibility.

“Well figure something out,” he told his wife, trying to appease her.

“Like what?  Robbing a fucking clothing store at two in the goddamn morning in fucking Buenos Aires?” she shouted, obviously distraught.

Tim pulled her into his arms and felt her shaking, stroking her back and whispering to her over and over it would be alright to calm her down.  Eventually she was able to at least compose herself enough to think again, stating she should at least call the emergency number Hector Chacon’s assistant gave them to explain the situation.  At the very least she could try and move the meeting into the late morning, giving her time to get a business suit once the stores opened.

Being too wound up, Tim called the number, Heather’s hands still shaking from their current predicament.  As the third-party broker, it would not be unusual for him to call instead of Heather to change the appointment, as his entire function was to serve as the go-between for Heather and the Argentinian bankers.

Heather listened to him explaining to whomever he was talking to on the phone about the lost luggage, asking to move the meeting to a later time in the day.

“Mhm,” her husband said as Heather looked at him.  “I see,” he said over the receiver.  “No, I completely understand.  Here, let me have you talk to Ms. Jacqueil and you can go over the details with her,” he said, looking at Heather.

Tim used Heather’s maiden name, which was how she was addressed at the company.  Many Latin American businessmen did not appreciate a woman in such a high position, but it would have been much worse to have known she was married, as a woman’s place was best served at home.

Heather took the phone, tentatively saying, “Hello?”

“Ah, Senora Jacqueil, this is Lucia Benitez, Senor Chacon’s assistant.  Senor Wilcox has explained what has happened.  I am very sorry for your inconvenience,” the heavily accented voice of an elderly woman said.  “As I explained to Senor Wilcox, Senor Chacon has a Board meeting scheduled immediately following your meeting to vote on the action of the contract, so it is impossible to reschedule your meeting without inconveniencing the entire Board,” the woman said over the phone.

Heather’s heart beat frantically as she replied, “But I have no clothes for the meeting,” she told the older woman.  “I am only wearing a camiseta y pantalones deportivos,” she said to the receiver.  “I can’t come to a meeting like that,” she said plaintively.

“Let me call Senor Chacon and explain the situation,” the elderly woman said, obviously feeling sorry for Heather.  “You are at the Alvear Palace, si?” she said.

Heather told her their room number and hung up the phone, still anxious, but hopeful.

Seeing Tim’s expectant look, she explained the situation as they sat down to wait for the assistant to call back.  Although she desperately wanted to take a shower—the hours on the plane making her feel completely grody—she did not want to miss the call.  Having Tim answer within her room would not be appropriate, so instead she snuggled on the couch with Tim, slowly dozing off as they waited for the return call.

The phone ringing loudly startled them both—each having dozed off while waiting—and Heather sprang up from the couch to answer.

“Senor Jacqueil,” Hector Chacon’s voice came out loudly over the phone, “I am so sorry to hear about your luggage.  Lucia told me it is Paris, no?” he said, his accent thick over the phone.

Heather explained the mix-up, as well as not having anything to wear to the meeting, once again asking if they could postpone it.

“Sadly, as Lucia may have explained, I have a meeting with the Junta Ejecutivo immediately following our meeting and cannot cancel one without the other,” he told her as Heather felt her heart drop.  “Many of the board members have tight schedules and are coming into town just for the sake of voting on the next action with your company,” he told her.

Heather’s heart dropped, once again knowing what the outcome of an unfavorable vote would due to not only her career, but her entire company.  She was committed to attending the meeting, and if worse came to worse, she would go in her current attire, although looks were everything, particularly for the men she would be meeting with.  Her attire would undermine the entire visit and make her the laughing stock of not only the Argentinians, but the entire financial community—such social faux pas were not kept quiet—but it would be even worse having to cancel the meeting completely.

“However, I may have a solution,” Senor Chacon’s voice came over the phone, catching Heather’s attention.  “I have a friend who owes me quite a few favors,” he told her.  “She owns a tienda de ropa, a clothing store,” he repeated in English.  “Let me give her a call and see if she can help,” he told her.  “If I might be so bold, could you tell me your measurements?” he said.

As spazzed out as she was, Heather still felt bad involving more people, telling the bank CEO she did not want to bother anybody else.

“Nonsense,” he replied over the phone.  “This is not the first time I’ve had to call on  her for an emergency clothing problem,” he laughed, “so tell me your measurements and let me see if she can help,” he said.

Out of the corner of her eye Heather saw Tim look at her funny as she told Hector Chacon her five-foot-eight-inches height and her 36C-25-34 figure.

“Ah yes, I had almost forgotten, usted es atractiva,” he said.

Heather felt her blood pulse as she thanked him for the compliment, cheered by the fact the man considered her simply a sexy woman and not one of the most successful financial directors in the world.

She listened as he told her he would contact her once he called his ‘friend’ to see if she had anything she could wear as Heather hung up the phone and explained to Tim what was going on.

It took only fifteen minutes before the phone rang again, Heather and Tim having just dozed off on the couch.

“Hola,” she answered.

“Senora Heather,” Mr. Chacon’s voice came over the phone.  “I have good news.  My friend has something she says will fit you perfectly,” he said.

Heather was relieved, thanking Senor Chacon profusely.

“It is no problem.  Unfortunately she only has one outfit that would fit you in stock, as her store caters more for evening wear attire, but I am sure it will be better than what you currently are wearing,” he laughed as Heather smiled at her husband.  “She described to me the dress and I am sure you will be stunning in it,” he told her.

Once again Heather thanked the CEO of the largest banking firm in South America, telling him as long as it was more feminine than her yoga pants and t-shirt, she was happy.  Senor Chacon told her the clothes would be delivered to the hotel first thing in the morning, but she would have plenty of time to get ready for the meeting and he would see her at eight.

Hanging up the phone, Heather once again felt in control as she told Tim the good news, telling him she was going to take a shower and go to bed, to get what little sleep they now had as her husband told her he was going to go to his room and do the same.

“Since you don’t have anything to wear to bed, I’m going to sleep in my own room,” he grinned at her.  “Otherwise we’ll be up the rest of the night,” he laughed.  “You’ll need all your energy satisfying all those Latino men!” he joked, grinning at her as she slapped him playfully on the shoulder before giving him a long kiss goodnight.