Chapter 4: Andrea
Okay, back to what I was saying before I got caught up in my college memories of Pete. Whew… breath… Andrea… breathe…
What’s the worst thing about being a six-foot-tall woman?
Forget everything I just said.
The worst thing is…
The big feet that come along with the tall height.
I supposed the length of my feet had to be proportionate to my height so I didn’t tip over…
But along with those big feet comes the need for…
Big shoes.
Size 12-13, to be precise.
Have you ever tried to find a nice stiletto heel in size 12-13?
Or even a sensible, low-heel pump?
Or even a good tennis shoe or a simple flip-flop?
Any kind of footwear that doesn’t look like something from The Hobbit?
It’s virtually impossible!
And when you do find something that looks decent and fits somewhat comfortably, they cost three or four times more than a normal size shoe costs. I mean, come on, I know there’s more to it, but seriously? Three to four times?
Guys shoes go all the way up to like size 25 and come in every freakin’ style. But for girls, no, you’re lucky if you find anything that fits and looks halfway decent over a size 10.
It’s like women are supposed to have these dainty little feet with pliable toes that can be squished into a narrow shoe that hurts like a mother to wear and is damn near impossible to walk in!
Most shoes for women with big feet should come with accidental injury insurance because sooner or later, you’re going to take a tumble forward or slip and fall on your ass. Being a woman is hard enough. It’s just not fair!
Nice shoes were something I never thought much about until I left USC with a marketing degree and discovered that if I wanted to work at nice places, I had to dress accordingly.
Sure, I could have gone to work at some trendy startup and lived in shorts and flip flops, but that wasn’t for me. I had big plans, big dreams, and big ambitions.
I wanted to be a rich entrepreneur someday, founder of my own line of apparel—and shoes— for women my size. And I believed in the old saying that you became the average of the five people you surrounded yourself with. I wanted to be rich and successful, so I wanted to surround myself with rich, successful people.
That opportunity came when I was hired by Denny Chambers, one of the billionaire founders of Internet Data Systems, to be his assistant marketing director. Denny was a legendary marketer who had sold billions of dollars in software and services, a brilliant mind, and one of the richest guys in Silicon Valley. And not too hard on the eyes, if I do say so myself.
I had met Denny initially when he came to speak to my marketing master class my senior year at school. I caught him eyeing me from the front of the room, I am sort of hard to miss, and I wanted to speak to him after class, so I made sure he saw me sitting front and center. Unfortunately, he had to dash off to speak at some tech summit in Paris, poor baby, so he didn’t have time to chat.
He did give me his card and told me to call him after graduation in six months. He gave me a smile, not a salacious one, not like most guys, and firmly shook my hand and hurried away.
I didn’t know if he was serious about a job or just setting me up to hit on me later, but as soon as I got my degree in hand, his number was the first one I called.
“Hi, Denny, I don’t know if you remember me or not, but this is Andrea Nichols. We met like six months ago when you were speaking to Professor Sagan’s marketing class at USC?”
“Uh, we met at USC?” Denny asked, clearly hesitant on the other end of the phone. He was probably used to all kind of whack jobs calling him out of the blue claiming to be an old pal or a long-lost cousin needing money. “I meet a lot of people…”
I felt my heart sinking in my chest, along with my dreams of working at IDS. Fuck that. It was time to use what the good Lord had given me.
“I was the six-foot-tall redhead in the front row,” I said bluntly. “I came up to you after your talk and you gave me your card and said to call you after graduation.”
“Oh, now I remember… Andrea… yes… So sorry. I meet a lot of people and I have the attention span of a gnat. How are you doing?”
“I’m doing great,” I said, forcing a pleasant tone as if I didn’t have a care in the world. “I graduated last month with my Master’s in marketing. I’d like to talk to you about a job.”
“Ah, okay, hang on a sec.” He put me on hold and my heart sank again. I knew what was happening. He was passing me off to some assistant or some Human Resources wonk who would just tell me to submit my resume on line and fuck off. Dammit, I didn’t know why, but I had much higher hopes for Denny Chambers. I prayed he didn’t turn out to be an asshole like—
The line clicked in my ear and Denny came back with a sigh. “Okay, sorry about that, had to tell some folks waiting for me in a meeting that I’m gonna be a little late. So, I said to come talk to me about a job…”
“Oh… well… um… yes…”
“So, let’s see,” he said. I heard tapping on a keyboard. “I’m pulling up my calendar. How about this Friday at 9 AM? Do you know where we’re located?”
“Um… yes… of course… duh… I mean… yes, Friday at 9 AM would be wonderful, Mr. Chambers.”
“Denny.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Call me Denny.”
“Oh, okay… Denny… Friday at 9 AM.”
“Awesome sauce,” he said. “Gotta run. See you then!”
I sat there for a moment in stunned silence with the phone at my ear, trying to slow my breathing and stop my hand from shaking, amazed at what had just happened.
I had an interview in three days with one of the top marketers on the planet. Holy shit…
I had an interview at IDS…
With Denny Chambers…
One of the richest guys in the Valley…
Again… holy shit.
IDS was a legendary company, even by Silicon Valley standards. Started fifteen years ago by college pals, tech whiz Isaac Hanson, marketing genius Denny Chambers, and a guy who would end up being one of the great business minds of his generation, Sammy Branniff: the same Sammy Branniff who played lineman for USC before I got there and the Los Angeles Marauders after college.
IDS would become one of the world’s top online data storage and software companies, with thousands of employees and millions of users across the globe, mainly due to the efforts of the three founders.
I didn’t sleep a wink for the next three days. The morning of my interview, my eyes were bloodshot and I looked completely worn out, but I put on my best face (thank you, L’Oréal), my best outfit (thank you, Tom Ford), and showed up thirty minutes ahead of time with my resume in hand and a frozen smile on my lips.
Then, reality set it. Even as pumped as I was to get the interview, I didn’t hold out much hope of actually getting the job once that first interview was over.
I was extremely qualified and had a great resume, but I got the feeling that Denny was less than impressed by me once we were in his office alone. I think I intimidated him a little. Not in a sexual way. Denny never made me feel like I was a piece of meat or anything. It’s just that I’m six-feet tall with raging red hair. And I have a big mouth that sometimes disconnects from my brain. I’ve been compared to the old comic strip heroine Red Sonya, who was the warrior princess and lover of Conan the Barbarian. I can come across as brash and overconfident, and sometimes I talk when I should just shut up and listen. To quote Conan, “Talk less, woman. Fight more.”
I interrupted Denny a dozen times, and kept telling him how great I was and what a great asset I would be to IDS. Denny was very cordial the entire time, smiling, nodding, and answering my questions even when they were totally ridiculous.
“So, Denny, tell me why I should want to work for you?”
Seriously, fuck nut?
Seriously??
I remembered leaving his office thinking that it would be the last time I ever talked to Denny Chambers or set foot in IDS. I imagined him phoning security as I rode down the elevator, telling them to meet me at the elevator to escort me out of the building.
“She’s a big one, boys, have your Tasers ready!”
I held my breath as the elevator doors opened. There were no guards with Tasers. Just me. Just stupid, silly me. They didn’t even glance my way as I went out the front doors to my car parked at the back of the lot.
I cried all the way home.
You blew it, you freakin’ moron, I told myself.
God, you’re such an idiot!!!
I moped around and kicked my own ass for a week, then a call from the Human Resources Director at IDS made all my worries go away. She was emailing over an offer within the hour.
“I’ll take it!” I said eagerly.
“Don’t you even want to look at the offer first?” she asked, clearly confused.
“What? No. I mean, yes. I mean, no. I’ll take it, whatever it is!”
Fortunately for me, it was a great offer. I’d be an Assistant Marketing Director working directly for Denny. I didn’t even look at the salary and benefits package because it didn’t matter. I would have worked there for free, even though I was quite happy when I saw what they were willing to pay me for my time.
Two weeks later I was working side by side with Denny and our interview became a running joke between us.
“She scared the hell out of me the first time we met,” Denny said as he introduced me to the marketing group, several dozen people gathered in a large conference room down the hall from his office. “And it wasn’t because of her height. It was because she graduated from USC with more honors than I did! Do you have any idea how intimidating that is?”
Everyone laughed.
Denny winked at me.
I winked back.
All was right with the world.
And Denny was only partially telling the truth.
He would later confess once we became friends, that it was more than my academic record or my height that kept him from hitting on me. I wasn’t like all the other girls Denny Chamber was famous for screwing. In fact, Denny, Isaac, and Sammy were almost as famous —or infamous—for their sexual exploits as their company and combined billions of dollars. All three were party boys well into their late thirties, though it seemed that Denny and Isaac had started to settle down as of late, thanks in large part to the new women in their lives.
Isaac was living with Amy Rossetti, a high-priced tech consultant who looked like she just stepped off the pages of a Victoria’s Secret catalog.
And Denny was dating a cancer researcher named Serena Diaz, a striking Hispanic beauty who reminded me of a young Sophia Vergara. Both Serena and Amy were the perfect mix of brains and beauty. And whatever hold they had on Isaac and Denny seemed to be working because in the six months I’d worked at IDS, I’d never seen them so much as smile at another girl.
And then there was Sammy Branniff. Sammy the Sausage, the girls called him behind his back. Supposedly, Sammy—who might rival even Pete Hamilton for largest cucumber in the store— had a cock that hung half way to his knees when soft and stuck out like a foot-long metal pipe when it was hard. A couple of the girls at IDS claimed to have seen it and experienced it first and secondhand, no pun intended. I couldn’t help but try to sneak a peek every time Sammy stood in front of our group making a presentation. He usually wore baggy Chinos, but once, when he was standing with his hands behind his back, I saw the bulge. It looked like a boa constrictor in a brown sack. I caught myself licking my lips. Since Pete, the longest cock I’d had was around eight inches long. Nothing to sneeze at, but when you lost your cherry to a boa constrictor sized trouser snake like Pete’s, the allure of something even larger could not easily be dismissed.