Putting in Overtime

“Chris, we need to talk about this Roclef project.” That was what the fascinatingly sexy Fern Holte said as she walked into my simple corner office at 4:15 on a Thursday afternoon. My office was equipped with a glass top desk, one of those chairs that lets you lean way back and put your feet up (it really comes in handy when I’m looking for a little shut eye at work), two less comfortable chairs across from my desk, a small bar in the corner of the room, and a whiteboard that I use to manage the impromptu brainstorming sessions that occasionally happen in my office. As Fern walked through my door I was briefly speechless as I looked at the outfit she was wearing, she had on a white blouse that looked very thin underneath an expensive looking lady’s suit jacket, and a pencil skirt that showed off an impressive amount of leg. Fern had a habit of attracting the attention of everyone in the office, male and female alike, just by walking off the elevator, she was just that good looking in a company filled with gross dudes. Everyone liked to watch as she made professional look so damn good. Today her blouse/ suit jacket combo was almost able to conceal the large breasts that were underneath but the pencil skirt she had on seemed like it was grabbing that firm ass of hers and perking it up just a little more than usual.
I took in today’s outfit and recovered quickly, asking, “What about the Roclef project?”
“Well you know that we need to pitch their execs our ideas for the summer campaign tomorrow at eleven, right?” she asked moving in front of my desk.
“Shit that’s right. Has anyone got anything good for that yet?” I asked, trying to get my mind back to work.
“There have been some ideas tossed around on the fifteenth floor but it’s all pretty lame shit. I was thinking though, You and I are the only ones who really know this account and this product, if anyone is going to come up with an idea for them it will be the two of us. It’s like we just need to lock ourselves in a room and not come out until we have a fucking awesome pitch ready.” She said.
I’m an executive at a marketing agency. I’ve been working here since I got out of college almost fifteen years ago. I started off by making pitches for small companies, companies that my agency wasn’t all that concerned with. I was able to hit a few homeruns on those small company pitches. It didn’t take long before I was developing marketing strategies for companies that were turning them from small fish into million dollar clients and as those companies grew I got noticed by the people that matter. One of these businesses was Roclef, a company that specializes in making cheap watches that look expensive, and to say that I was able to market the shit out of Roclef would be putting it lightly. It didn’t take long for me to get promoted to a director of the content wing, when I was promoted Fern, a promising young talent at the time, took over a few of my clients, including Roclef and when I was promoted four months ago to Chief Creative Officer, Fern took my job as director. So, when she says that we are the two people who know Roclef the best, she isn’t lying.
I love being CCO, the pay is great, the company car is classy, and the corner office with a view of the city is great compared to the cubicle I started in. It’s all a sweet deal, my only complaint is that I miss making those pitches. It was my favorite part of the job. I used to spend hours grinding out ideas, pouring over info on a company to come up with the best way to brand them. Now I’m so many levels above that grinding work that the closest I get to most projects is approving them. So, when my smoking hot coworker walked into my office asking if I would get back to doing what I loved for a few hours I didn’t take long to reply.
“Let’s do it.” I stood up. “Do we want to lock ourselves in here or go to a conference room?”
“I was joking about the locking us in part.” Fern said laughing
“Nope, let’s do it.” I said confidently as I walked over to the door.
“Alright” she says, “whatever it takes to get these guys off my ass.”
“I think it’s going to take a lot more than a good marketing pitch to get the Roclef execs off that ass.” I joked taking an exaggerated sneaky glance at her ass in that tight black skirt.
“Shut the fuck up.” She said blushing a little and sitting down in the chair across from my desk. “the first two years I had the account they wouldn’t stop sucking your cock you know. ‘Oh Chris this, Chris that, Chris is so great, Chris has the best fucking dick’ the bastards would only talk with you, now I can’t get them to leave me alone.”
“What can I say, my reputation precedes me.” I reached up to the door frame and found the rarely used key that I put there when I moved into the new office. “Okay here’s the rules.” I said with the key in my hand, “No one comes in or out for any reason, any reason at all, until we have the best damn idea Roclef has ever heard.”
“Deal.” She says and as I lock the office door and return to my chair she is taking a folder out of her bag and opening it. “So, they want something that is going to really drive up their summer traffic and make old customers get new watches.”
“Okay” I said opening my own file on Roclef, except my file was on my computer, it’s the 21st century, this girl is real good looking but I don’t know why she is keeping things in manila folders still. I opened a couple files on projects that we had done for Roclef over the past few years.