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It’s been a year of no action and frankly, my pink vibrating friend isn’t doing the job anymore. I’d like to test drive what he’s packing beneath those black sweatpants he has on and by the looks of it, he's packing some massive heat.
Where the hell has this guy landed from?
I am definitely pulling out my phone and looking him up as soon as I get into my car. A deeper need to learn everything about Lincoln is burning a hole in my curiosity and panties.
Nope, not the panties, I need them. I can’t risk flashing yet another of our employees.
Following our midafternoon break, my father dropped in to introduce himself. He didn’t stay long—he never does—but he likes to do the whole, This is me, this is my face, welcome to West Oracle, lovely to meet you all. He’s so busy most of the time; I’ve barely seen him this past month.
My uncle Andrew then marched us outside for the last activity today, the leap of faith.
Yeesh, I’m not a fan of heights. My heart ricochets around my chest at the thought of having to climb the thirty-foot ladder to the top of the foot-wide totem pole.
That’s not the part that scares me the most. It’s jumping off that skinny pole, harnessed in some kinky-looking bondage harness and then trusting that harness will hold the weight of my body while suspended midair.
Next, I have to grab the trapeze swing directly in front of me that’s flapping about in the wind and trust myself to jump off that pole far enough to reach and grab on to it. Sounds like hell.
The best part is, I have to jump off at the same time my partner does.
Nope.
Not happening.
It’s petrifying.
And what happens if I miss the swing? Will my bondage harness save me from a fatal death? I’ve had nightmares of splatting to the ground from thirty feet up. That scares me the most. I shiver and my head spins at the prospect.
It’s the ultimate challenge of the day. But no matter how many times my uncle begs me to try it, it’s a step too far for me and a demon I’m yet to face.
I take my hat off to the brave people who have balls of steel to complete this task.
Me, however, I am not that brave.
I start to sweat just thinking about it, which is super unattractive in my thin tee shirt and palazzo pants. Beads of perspiration appear along my top lip and my hands feel sticky to the touch. Decision made. Nope, I’m not doing it.
My uncle Andrew, my father’s brother, along with his brilliant team, harnesses everyone up while I stand with my arms folded, watching from the sidelines.
I observe each paired-up team as they climb the pole, work together, communicate, encourage each other, take their leap of faith, and come back down again.
I think this is one of the best teams we have gained for Urban Soul Studios so far. They are motivated; they communicate well, and they are willing and ready to learn. I really like them. Even Rio, who I thought was a bit of a slug, has proved me wrong today. All he needed was someone like West Oracle to motivate him, spring him into action, increase his wages, grant him more responsibility, pop him on a top-notch management training program, and boom, excitement and motivation skyrocket. He’s excited. He emailed telling me so last night.
I’m too busy daydreaming, looking out across the open football fields to the left of me, when a Scottish voice startles me.
“Are you not joining in?” He cheekily grins at me.
Holy shit, Lincoln in a harness is doing nothing to hide his enormous package. Man meat galore. Someone send help.
“Violet!”
Hmm, say what now?
Thank heavens my gaze is disguised behind my sunglasses.
“Eh, no. Not a fan of the height thingy stuff.” Pull yourself together, Violet. You’re a professional businesswoman. “I mean the leap of faith.”
“Am I doing this one myself, then?”
‘Yes. You’ll never catch me doing that.” I arch my neck back to get a better view of the enormously long pole that looks like it disappears into the sky from this position. “So high.” I wrinkle my nose.
