Chapter Two

Cliff

Our building was a hive of activity at all times of year, and with the holidays quickly followed by year-end approaching, the buzz rose to approach deafening. Employees at all levels wished for time off to spend with family and friends, departments were planning various festivities, clients were in and out with gifts and extra needs, and, to top it off, our year-end reporting loomed. In my previous company, similar events had led to a seriously Scrooge-like atmosphere from upper management, but in the two years I'd been here, I'd been delighted to see an entirely different way of being.

In my position, upper-middle management I supposed, my job was to inform and enforce the company culture. That was what had driven me away from that other company. It seemed that the overseas owners, who never visited the premises once during my five-year tenure, preferred not to acknowledge that the employees were people with needs, wants, and desires. And plans.

So, for every special occasion or holiday, I had to fight for the slightest bit of celebration. I was paid well, but I felt more like a tyrant than a supervisor. My salary here was 10 percent less, my stress level down 80 percent. Worth it. It was also nice that I hadn't had to job hunt, being contacted by a headhunter who convinced me in one phone call, after one question, to let her present me to the company.

The question? "What do they do for Christmas?"

She had to go find out, which she wasn't super crazy about doing, warning me that it could make the company hesitant to hire someone who wanted random information. "Is this a religion thing? Because of course you'd have off for any religious observances."

"That's not why." And not a topic I would discuss with her. "It's about how they treat their employees. If you want me to consider this position, that's my deal-breaker."

I know she thought I was probably crazy, but it didn't matter. So, she called HR and asked then came back with a ton of information. This company, whose ownership actually worked on the top floor, believed that celebrations raised morale. They walked the entire building a couple of times a week because they wanted their employees to feel free to approach them with any concerns. That beat an open-door policy, hands down.

And my question triggered a job offer that required only one interview before I was hired. Of course, they'd seen my resume already and knew my qualifications, but on my first day, the CEO shook my hand and welcomed me aboard. Told me they knew they had the right person for the job and expected great things from me.

Which was awesome, but just a bit nerve-racking. I didn't want to let them down. I came in early and left a little late, made sure those on my floor knew that I was also available to them to air any concerns, and welcomed suggestions for improvement. The first suggestion was for a suggestion box in my office. It rarely had anything in it because I usually headed off the folded scrap of paper and had a discussion with the person. We were productive and, most days, a cheerful crew. Sure, everyone had deadlines and things that went wrong, but most problems were handleable if addressed right away.

Now…who was going to address my problem? I'd seen Mr. Shorr, the CEO, just that morning, and he always encouraged us to come to him, but if I did, what could he say? Company policy precludes ogling staff under your direct supervision?

Because it did, and with good reason. I agreed 100 percent with that policy. Or, I had, until a certain new hire crossed my path. I did not hire him, although I approved the decision. Well-qualified, I agreed Forrest would be a good addition to our team. And that was it, and all was fine at first because we were all so busy I never saw him. But the first meeting he sat in on, I completely lost my train of thought while going over a series of financials on a large screen.

Embarrassing?

Yes, but the reason was a real problem.

Forrest was adorable, with a winsome smile and twinkling eyes. He was smart and well-spoken in the meeting, unlike me, and all I wanted to do was chase out everyone else and sit him down for a conversation. If I'd ever seen anyone who needed a daddy, it was him. Not something I could specifically spell out, more instinct, but my brain and body were all in.

I could never act on these thoughts, could not even have them in my brain because it was unfair to the employee. Either I'd end up showing favoritism or trying to avoid doing that and be too hard on him. Why did he have to be so adorable?

After the meeting, I'd promised myself I would forget about that momentary lapse in professionalism. Which would have worked very well if I didn't run into him every day. That had not been the case while he was training, but now…

Fortunately the holidays and all the rest did have us busy, and I was able to at least maintain a facade. Perhaps the problem wasn't Forrest. Oh, he was cute as a button, but if I hadn't been working so much that I hadn't been to the club recently, I might have fewer problems keeping my mind on business.

My club, Chained, had a little room where daddies and mommies and their littles could come to play. Single littles were also welcomed, and people like me, a daddy without a little in his life, were able to scene with them.

I made a plan right then to go on the first possible night. There were surely some events scheduled as well, with lots of glitter and gingerbread and visits from Santa. I'd have to check the schedule because they drew a nice crowd. I'd certainly find someone to spend a nice evening with and take the edge off this obsession with an employee who was completely off-limits.