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Menni joined them, all smiles.
“Hi Daniel. Are you guys done?”
“Sure,” Erez answered, and stood. “Thank you.” He nodded at Daniel, and started walking towards Nurit’s office.
“I heard from Costumer Success that clients complained about the follow-up emails.” Menni’s loud voice carried. “Space them out. They don’t need to hear from us every couple of months.”
This was odd–that the CEO would trouble himself with such a minor detail that was directly in the purview of Marketing. He turned the corner, and stopped in his tracks, straining to hear.
“I think that’s a mistake, Menni,” Daniel argued.
“It’s the right thing to do. We come off as naggers,” Menni said, then dropped his voice. Erez continued walking, but his curiosity was piqued.
Nurit looked like a thin bird with her large nose and high ponytail. Her movements were jerky and jumpy. She kept darting stares at him, at the door, at her computer monitor. Dafna had a quiet fortitude about her, a repose that inspired trust. Whether she was born with it or she gained it through her years as HR Erez couldn’t tell. Nurit was the exact opposite. A frightened canary who expected an enormous cat to emerge at any moment and swallow her whole.
She tapped a pen on the table.
“Morning. How can I help you?” Tap, tap, tap, tap. She noticed her nervous drumming and stopped, laying the pen aside.
“Please send me your ARR reports,” he started. The ARR, annual recurring revenue, was the main parameter investors looked at. “Also, your clients’ sales excels, detailed clients lists, revenues past and present, and expenses past and present. The books, in short.”
“They’re confidential,” she answered, as if she was unaware of the nature of due diligence, which by definition required to open the firm’s books. “This is very sensitive data.”
His pride was nettled. He was a CPA of public companies. He dealt with sensitive, inside info all day long.
“Look here. Gil opened a restricted email address for me here in Kisharti, just receiving emails, no outgoing ones. Send me the reports. I won’t be able to share them.”
“Right. Yes, if you say so. Okay. Yes.”
He was happy to get out of her office.
He walked a little aimlessly, wanting to go back to Dafna, perhaps ask her for lunch. This part of the building was nearly abandoned, but somehow Dafna’s scent reached him. He walked a narrow corridor, passing a small, enclosed space which was fashioned like a diner booth, complete with an odd see-through plexiglass that formed a narrow opening. The Thinking Nook, said a small sign, designed in a flowery font.
Dafna was here. She looked stunning today, with her lilac shirt and some sort of skirt in a somewhat darker color. A laptop was in front of her, but it was in sleep mode, photos of her children changing every few seconds.
“Is everything okay?” he asked. Moistness hung on her long eyelashes, as if she had just cried.
“Yes.” It clearly wasn’t.
“Can I sit?”
She shrugged as an answer and he slid next to her, her fragrant presence surrounding him in the confined space, the slight touch of their thighs arousing.
“Erez…” she said, “you’re lucky to have a brother. It’s hard being an only daughter.” She was probably thinking of her mother’s illness.
“I guess so. My brother and I were there for each other all our lives. And my Gal isn’t really an only child.”
He caressed the back of her hand, the simple touch sending thrills up his arm. She straightened her back but didn’t pull away. He continued to run his thumb along the smooth back of her hand. She exhaled and bit her juicy lips.
“I find that the sea is a natural upper.” The Thinking Nook was at the end of a corridor and no one occupied the spaces leading to it. They were in the quietest corner of the company. But the threat of being discovered was there and very real. “I wish I made myself go surfing more.”
She swallowed, her throat so close. He blew on her neck, and she shuddered. He needed to pull back, he was slipping fast down a slippery slope.
“Come try paddleboarding with me,” he said to her shell shaped ear, barely keeping himself from licking it. “If the distillery doesn’t pan out, this could be Kisharti’s activity.”
Her scent swirled around him, tantalizing with its promise, he already had a semi hard-on. He brought his head closer and inhaled deeply. He gave in to his desires, throwing caution to the wind. “Do you want me to make you feel better?” His throat was constricted.
“How?” she whispered.
