Boss Girl

Neely looked back at the men's room just as the man emerged. "How tall are you?" she asked.

"Five-eleven. About six-two in these heels. Why?"

"See that guy walking to the bar?" Neely pointed at him. "Real cute, dark hair."

The waitress craned her long, slender neck around the crowd and squinted. "You mean the little guy in the dark vest?"

"Yeah," said Neely.

"What about him?"

"Would you ever consider going out with him?" asked Neely. "I mean, being as tall as you are, do you find him attractive?"

"I'd do him in a New York minute," said the waitress, licking her lips. "He'd make a great Friday night snack."

"You don't have a problem with a man that much shorter?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Hell, I date shorter guys all the time. Most of the ones taller than me are pretty stuck on themselves. The shorter ones try harder, they're more polite. Better personalities and sense of humor. And they don't try anything funny 'cause I'm bigger than they are." Suddenly she put her tray down on our table, leaned forward, and lowered her voice. "Plus, I'll let you in on a little secret. They obey."

"Excuse me?" I said.

"They're so afraid you'll ditch them for a tall guy they'll do anything you want. I guess I feel more in control with a guy like that. It's sorta nice being the man in the relationship, if that makes any sense." She looked back across the room at the man, dark eyes suddenly steamy with lust. "But yeah, I wouldn't mind bending him across my knee and spanking that tight little ass."

Interesting mental picture I hadn't considered.

"Thanks," said Neely.

"What's the deal?" asked the waitress, picking up her tray. "You guys taking a marketing survey or something?"

"We work in TV," I said. "Just keeping in touch with how women think."

"Let's put it this way. They're all the same height lying down," said the waitress. "I'll be right back with your drinks." She turned and headed back to the bar.

"Syd, we are really missing something here," said Neely. "If we want to convey the notion that women are in charge, why can't a few of our female anchors be taller than their male co-anchors?"

"She's got something, Syd," said Rica. "A lot of women wouldn't mind takin' that guy home, even if he is a munchkin. And look at Jillian. She looks so possessed I'm gonna have to call a priest."

I turned and saw that Jillian was in some sort of schoolgirl trance, which I might expect from Neely. But Jillian, I'd never seen her this way. The cool, always in control girl looked like she was in the ninth grade suffering from her first crush. "Jillian? Earth to Jillian?"

"Huh?" she said.

"Have you heard a word we've been saying?" I asked.

"Yeah. Sort of. Not really," she said, still staring at the man.

I looked up at the guy who had returned to the bar. He shook hands with another man who handed him an envelope, then paid his bill, picked up his drink, and headed for our table.

"This oughta be fun," said Neely, cocking her heard toward Jillian. "Woman hit by Cupid's arrow. Film at eleven."

"Someone reel in her tongue before he gets here," said Rica.

I elbowed Jillian who snapped back into reality just as the man reached our table. He stood between Jillian and Neely but it was obvious he had his sights on Jillian.

"Hi, I'm Shawn Carlyle," he said.

Whoever said good things come in small packages must have been talking about this guy. Mid-twenties, perfectly proportioned, slim hips, broad shoulders accented by a tailored white French cuffed shirt. Turquoise eyes you could get lost in. Rugged square jaw, long dimples covered by a day's growth. And yes, a tight little spankable ass.

Yeah, I'm starting to see Neely's point.

Jillian was still too busy staring to answer, so I picked up the ball. "Hi Shawn. I'm Syd, and this is Rica, Neely and Jillian."

"So, girls night out?" he said.

"This is actually an extension of a business meeting that started this afternoon," I said.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," he said.

"No problem," Neely said. "We like to mix a little pleasure with business. We'd just wrapped up the business part anyway, so you can hopefully provide the pleasure."

"You guys all work together?" he asked.

"We run the news division for CBN," I said.

"That sounds like a neat job. I took a journalism course in college and it seemed like a lotta fun."

"So what do you do, Shawn?" asked Rica.

"I work on Wall Street," he said, eyes suddenly filling with a tinge of sadness. "I've been there three years since I got out of college and it feels like thirty."

Jillian still hadn't said a word, hadn't stopped staring, and her freckles were lit up like they were on fire. He glanced back in her direction and shot her a quick smile.

"Not happy with the career?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I just need to find something else to do. I'll be dead by forty if I keep this up. And honestly, my heart's not in it. Money's good, but I'm not happy. It may look exciting on TV, but the job just wrings you out."

"Well, you know," I said, "we're in the process of hiring a bunch of people for our new cable network. In fact, we start interviewing local candidates tomorrow."

"I read about that on Page Six. I already watch your local news. You guys do a good job."

"You like our news?" asked Rica, furrowing her brow.

"Yeah," he said. "You guys keep it simple. No agenda, no one trying to tell me how to think or how to vote. No one trying to shout someone else down during an interview. And the women on your station are credible, not a bunch of beauty queens. I mean, don't get me wrong, they're extremely attractive, but I get the feeling they actually know what they're talking about."

That click you just heard was Mister Edison turning on a thousand-watt light bulb over my head.

There's a young male audience for our product. Who knew?

The guy was not only extremely cute but smart. I wanted to know more. "Have you ever been in front of a camera?" I asked.