Disclaimer: I make no profit for this, I just amuse myself.

A tall, wealthy businessman skipped over vagrants sprawled in the subway gate as he made a dash to get oncoming train. As it pulled into the station, he arriving just in time, a glance at his watch told him that not only was he perilously late but the lack of clarity as the number on the face wavered in front of him was a clear indicator that he still had one hell of a hangover. Caldwell B. Cladwell needed his wits as he came closer to CEO of Urine Good Company everyday. After fighting his way through the morning hustle of people he finally came to the sleek, modern towers of UGC. It was one of the very few businesses still doing well under the strained economic times. Well dressed businessmen and women crowded the lobby made of glass and mirrors- in which he was sure to check his appearance before going up to his floor and starting a tedious of day of meetings and business deals; a good looking blue-eyed man of olive complexion and jet black hair (with minimal amounts of gray, at nearly 40) preened back at him.

On the 32nd floor Cladwell stepped out of the gold-plaited elevator and onto the floor that held his suites. Not more than a few feet out of the elevator he was met by Philip McQueen, his personal assistant in charge of well… everything! Never dressed in anything less than a suit and tie he was nothing less than a ladies' man with his calm and collected manner, but let's just say ladies weren't exactly his type. "Mr. Claaadwell," he sang as he began to flip through his rather large packet of notes. "It looks like today could be a very important day for you," He said with a classically fey wink, and was that eyeliner Caldwell noted? Never mind, not important and he couldn't be distracted by something like McQueen's make-up when he had things to do! And to hell with the goddamned hangover! Best to use small words to start of the morning. "Good," was all Cladwell replied swung open the door to his spacious, sleek office. Possibly the best in the building, except CEO, of course, he had an entire open wall of window that looked over the entire city, his soon to be kingdom. Inhaling the scent of new leather he took a moment to bask in his ego for a moment as sparkling windows and framed articles of his accomplishments and framed Ivy League degrees all beamed down at him like dear old friends. A large desk with the latest in computer technology- a screen barely thicker than a piece of paper, sat in the middle and upon it also were a fresh coffee and seven of his favorite newspapers, along with faxes of all the numbers, no doubt brought in by Mrs. Millenium, Assistant Director of Finances (the Director was himself). There on a desk similar but much smaller than his own and designated over to the very corner of his office sat the woman herself. Neglecting her chair, today she chose to sit on the desk itself, legs crossed tightly and kitten-toe pumps tapping agitatedly at nothing. There was something different about the way she held her issue of The Wall Street Journal today, something about the angle and the way she was hiding her face. Then he noticed it, it was the absence of her garishly large engagement and wedding rings.

"Anything new the weekend, Gemma?" he said casually and carefully using her first name, ignoring the alcohol enhanced side of his brain that told him to go and take his hand up her leg and instead he took a seat in his plushy chair. "Our stocks are looking up!" she chirped in a voice unnatural for her usual honeyed tones, "With the price of water going up people can't afford bathrooms anymore and need somewhere else to piss!" "Well that's good indeed!" He lit up a cigar and let the woody flavor wrap around his mouth and nostrils before letting out in a slow exhale. When he didn't answer she chirped up in that ungodly voice again, "I also got divorced." Still no answer from Caldwell. "He was cheating on me and had three kids with another woman." Still no answer, finally, she lowered her paper and glared at him, smoke curling around his elegant face. "Caldwell!" she implored, almost even pouting, obviously expecting some response or better yet, sympathy. Now that made him chuckle. There were reasons he kept Gemma Millenium so close, and entertainment was certainly one of them. At barely 26 she had been working with the him for seven or eight years since she was 19. First she started to work through college as a simple secretary, copy and fax, the usual until Cladwell couldn't help but notice she was as clever and shrewd as she was pretty. A good businessman like himself would be daft not to appreciate a girl who was smart, desperate and willing in more ways than one, besides she was good with numbers, good enough to make certain ones disappear if he wanted it that badly. Millenium was a pretty girl with auburn hair, green eyes and a body made from soft curves a small waist and shapely limbs; not a thin girl but not fat either and she was sure to accentuate her assets in clothes from the 1940's and 50's. It was obvious that a girl like that got where she was by using everything she had. That's why he hired her; not only was she a business advantage but sometimes offices were boring and lonely places…

He simply lounged back in his chair and as her brow creased further into confusion the corners of his mouth twitched further up into a grin. "Caldwell!" "Gem!" he gave her a look like one would give a petulant child, "Read me the numbers from the Journal." "Don't forget Mr. Cladwell, you've got a meeting with the Board in ten minutes," chimed in Mr. McQueen, who had been observing the trite little game from the side with a healthy dose of boredom, as he finally decided it was appropriate to take his leave. Honestly, heterosexuals…

Once the door was safely shut behind McQueen Caldwell's face was consumed by a lurid smile. "You're upset with your husband… but you weren't exactly faithful… those things we did on the desk?" he hissed through a mouth of cigar smoke. Shock, rage, and guilt battled for a spot on her face. Saying nothing she placed her own cigarette in her heavily rouged lips and took a steady drag, face tilted toward the ceiling to hold in forming tears. Her next move was curious to Caldwell indeed. She stood up, her face having settled on anger, went to her desk drawer and pulled the rings she had stored there and slipped the heavy rocks over her crimson nailed finger. With click-clacking heels against the marble floor she resolutely strode to where Caldwell had sprawled himself but when she got there her face faltered and she became a sad doe-eyed girl from another century. He wasn't sure what to expect but she got that look a lot when she was going to kiss him, he hoped she was going to kiss him; he braced himself for soft hands in his hair, full lips on his face and all would be forgiven before the first meeting of the day. Instead, all he got was a strong blow to the face that hit him hard enough that for a moment he really did see stars, and the stinging was incomprehensible. So that was why she put her rings back on, that bitch, it would leave welt marks for sure! By the time he focused again she was halfway to the door McQueen had just exited. "Don't forget your meeting, you have eight minutes, plenty of time for that to leave a mark. There's cover-up in my purse if you want it, top drawer. Oh and yes! Here are your numbers!" she cried and tossed the paper over her shoulder and with an almighty and dramatic pull, opened the door and flounced out. For a moment Cladwell was left in shock. He considered firing her but he needed her. He probably deserved it too. At the least, it was one way of clearing a hangover he had never considered.

A/N: Review if you wish! It'd be great to hear what you think, what works and what doesn't? Feel free to criticize and nitpick as long as it is constructive, I'm actually writing fanfic to get better at writing in addition to having fun! J Well… next chapter we meet Penny! And sorry for the lack of action, setting stuff up you know.