Wolfe

"God we are never going to meet the deadline." I mutter.

It is just another typical day at work, my colleagues and I struggling to finish a project that is already running late while my inconsiderate boss decides to drop another time bomb in our laps - a new proposal for a tender he happen to come across from the papers. As if we are not pushed as hard
as it is. But nobody complains, at least not directly in front of the boss, because it is a norm in Singapore to expect a team to run several projects at one time, multi-tasking some coined it. I am the hardware engineer in the group, overlooking interfacing of microprocessors, logic circuits design and
other hardware-related issues from the component level to the circuit-board level. This is my first job after graduation with Buckland Enterprise, a multi-national corporation.

Buckland Enterprise is founded in the 1950s in the Emirates and thrived on exporting petrol and diesel to other parts of the world. It has evolved over the years and is now competing in a wide selection of businesses other than oil-refining such as medical products, the hotel service industry and electronics. The corporation has only recently moved its market focus from Western countries, mainly America and Europe, to the East because of the uprising Asian economies and the recent advancements in technology that has ushered in the need for globalization even more rapidly. Unfortunately due to the onslaught of crises and the relative vulnerable economic foundations of some Asian countries, there are efforts to reorganize the company to suit the Asian environment.

After heavy restructuring, the company currently functions using two separate structures, a project-based approach and the traditional hierarchical tree. The former is used internally while the latter is for identification to the public. The need for two systems is two-fold. Using project groups allow the company to be more flexible to changes and be adaptive to the dynamic market conditions. However, being a well-established organization it is going to be confusing to the suppliers and buyers because they are used to doing business using the old format. They will not be able to adjust quickly with the new system where they have to liaison with project groups. Moreover, in terms of administrative costs, the formal and rigid tree allows easy tracking. Thus, officially I hold the post of Junior Engineer but within my project group my title is Hardware Engineer. The interesting aspect of such a system is it gives management a choice to be involved in the actual processes rather than planning and monitoring through progress reports and charts, but whether to participate or not is still up to individual managers.

"Yeah, Slavedriver Wolfe must be undergoing another period again." Eddie, the software engineer on my team, smilingly remarks.

'Slavedriver' is the nickname we give our group leader, Wolfe Addams, because he drives all of us to our limits with an ever-increasing workload regardless of our seniority or experience; He can be very ruthless if anyone fails to deliver, the harshest being fired without notice and a reference. The 'period' is a joke in the company to describe Wolfe when he starts to force everyone to work at breakneck pace. Wolfe is an acclaimed workaholic, arriving in his office at 6 am and leaving at 11 PM daily, often he works on weekends as well. But he does not expect others to follow his example. At least that was in the past. Lately, his moods have been quite unpredictable and it is common to see him bark orders or bite anyone who is procrastinating in their duties.

Officially, Wolfe is the Managing Director of the Asia-Pacific region. There are about over 2000 project groups reporting to him. These come from South-East Asia such as Thailand, Malaysia, Indonesia and countries that are further north like China and Japan. Singapore is the regional home-base and there are roughly 50 project teams here. Despite his many commitments, he makes it a point to join a massive project annually. Usually, the particular project requires collaborative efforts from various departments, spans several countries and must be broken into smaller, manageable modules to be implemented. This time he happens to lead the multi-processor interface controller section which I am attached to.

"Oh man, this thing refuses to work! Looks like another long night to debug it..." Jason, another hardware engineer, grumbles.

"Heh, don't complain. Wait till we start on the new proposal then the real fun begins" I reply, walking over to look at the CAD drawing on Jason's computer screen.

"Oh shut up Stefan, you should have told Wolfe to back off last week when he hinted on that new tender" Eddie joins in, without taking his eyes off the monitor while his hands type furiously away on the keyboard, filling in the segments of missing assembly code.

"Ed, don't even bother to start that line of discussion. Besides I got my punishment this morning when Wolfe slapped that stack of files onto my desk." I point to the pile of black folders cluttering my table.

Both Eddie and Jason have grins on their faces that say, 'Well you deserve it'
"Of course, he expects me to finish reading them and to discuss any issues such as project cost estimates and possible delays by tonight."

Eddie laughs and Jason has a smirk on his face that makes me want to slam his head against the wall.

"I know the tender is purely hardware-based but I have just joined the company, how can he expect me to forecast the hardware costs and turn-around times? There are other more capable people in the company."

"Maybe he is holding a torch for you." Jason snickers.

"Very funny." I whack Jason on the head and I can hear Eddie laughing even harder.

I have joined the company for almost a year and has been with the team for the whole duration but I am still uncertain as to how my colleagues will react to my preferred sexuality. Singapore being a patriarchal community tends to be generally conservative. Most people are less receptive to gay people and frown on us, thinking we are some kind of odd creatures with convoluted minds. The better informed ones show understanding but will still unconsciously try to maintain a distance. My safest bet I feel is to be cautious about who I reveal my secret to. I do not want to strain the working relations with my colleagues unnecessary.

"Ouch! Okay, okay I apologize. My guess is Slavedriver is quite impressed with your work so far and wants to give you a chance to perform." Jason reasons, rubbing the spot on his head where I just hit.

Eddie nods his head in agreement, attempting to control his laughter with much difficulty.

"Yeah Stefan, I have never seen anyone as hardworking as you and I swear I'm serious." Eddie continues.

"Sheesh, aside from Slavedriver, you are the second nut-head who spends an average of 18 hours a day in the office."

"Don't be ridiculous Jason, I don't clock that many hours." I retort, feeling a little exasperated.

"I do spend an awful lot time at work but I still have to sleep and travel"

"Blah, maybe not 18 hours, but I'm dead sure it is more than 12 hours. I wonder how much you are going to be paid if we are given overtime pay? What do you think Eddie?"

That earns Jason another smack on the head from me.

Just then Betty, our division secretary walks in, balancing a bundle of documents on her left hand and some black folders on the other.

"Wow, aren't you guys chatty? I wish I can idle." Betty says, her expression a cross between extremely harassed and envious.

"Hey sweetie, come here and I will give you a hug" Eddie coos, smiling mischievously at Betty.

I turn my attention and look up at the athletic woman striding purposefully towards my desk. Betty is wearing a pair of brown pants and a tight-fitting white blouse. Her mane of black hair is tied into a short pony-tail at the nape. Her actions are quick and efficient and one can see the toned limbs move with decisive power, an indication of long hours spent slogging at the gym. "Hey you." I call.

"Really can't make small talk. Slavedriver has an overseas tele-conference meeting this evening and he is breathing fire down my neck to make sure everything goes smoothly." Betty pause in mid-motion as she turns around to respond to my greeting, all the time without looking at Eddie.

"And Stefan dear, Slavey wants that proposal forecast by tonight and judging from his looks, you either get it done or be prepared to be served with dismissal letters tomorrow. Here are some more files." Betty says, dropping approximately 6 to 8 more folders onto my untidy table.

"Hmmph, why does Stefan gets to be called Dear and I don't. This is so unfair." Eddie pretends to pout.

But before Eddie finishes his sentence, Betty has already whisk out of the room like a gush of wind. Jason shoots a look of feigned pity at Eddie while Eddie glares at the entrance with a touch of annoyance, ceasing to continue coding his program completely.

I smile at the game that Eddie has been playing for the past 4 months. He always tries to engage Betty in flirtatious banter as she makes her rounds, passing important notices or files, but every time Betty will either ignore him or if she feels up to the challenge, parts with a poorly concealed insult which always seems to make Eddie angry.

"Stef, why the hell does she treats me like I'm invisible for one moment and a scumbag the next?" Eddie grated through clenched teeth.

Eddie never forgets to ask me this question. This is mostly a result of my associations with Betty. Betty is my best friend since childhood, from the time we spend at the orphanage to when I get adopted by Duvre and Jeremy she has been there to lend a sympathetic ear. She is the only person in the office who knows that I am gay and is very supportive and comfortable about it. She is also the one who landed me the job as with my grades and lack of experience, I probably cannot get such a high salaried job in the first place.

I have not met her until two years back during my varsity vacation stint as a delivery man. I remember I was supposed to deliver a parcel from the wafer fabrication factory to Buckland Enterprise when I saw her taking the same lift with me. At that time, I only found her vaguely familiar but just could not quite pinpoint who she was. She felt the same way, as I later found out, for she kept staring at me. It was after seeing my name tag that she recalled who I was.

There is not a lot I know about Betty except that she is currently staying with a room-mate in a rented flat near Jurong. Her adopted parents are dead and the only family she has is her grandmother who lives in Sarawak, East Malaysia. She has been with the company for 3 years and has been promoted quickly from the ranks of administrative assistant to secretary. She enjoys sports and is an ardent soccer fan. Her favorite foreign player is Ryan Giggs from Manchester United and as for local talent she prefers Fandi Ahmad. Betty is 3 years my senior, that puts her at 25 but she looks more like a 20 year old with her smooth, slightly tanned face and astute brown eyes that sparkle with wit.

"Seriously Ed, maybe you should try being contrite and shy, you know, suck up to her and get into her good books. Perhaps, she will take note of ol' poor, little lovesick you." I reply, unable to resist the temptation to tease Eddie.

Jason's shoulders shake suspiciously as he makes an effort to stop laughing while Eddie serves me with a mutinous look.

"Ahhh! There it is. Jason you have reversed the address bits for the memory mapped I/O devices. Now by shifting the lines on this priority encoder..."

I clicked a few times on the mouse and moved some of the information blocks around.

"Done. I think there may still be bugs here and there, especially with the shared cache and bus snooping because the interconnecting lines look a bit fuzzy. Try running through the functional simulator again"

"Wow that's fast. Those long hours at work studying the design of the older generation of processor systems sure pay off huh? Thanks man." Jason exclaims before resuming with his testing.

I nod.

Eddie is staring pensively into empty space, as if pondering something important.

"Ed, stop thinking and get back to your work. Meanwhile I need to get some reading done."

The hours fly by quickly and very soon it is 6 PM, time to knock off. Both Eddie and Jason bid me goodbye with Eddie mumbling inaudibly about finding the cheapest florist in town before he leaves. After that brief interruption, I resume studying the system requirements document in front of me. The rest of the files have already been arranged neatly on the shelf next to my desk.

To...To....To......

The phone rings once more before I hastily pick up the receiver. I look at my digital wristwatch, the time reads 9 PM. I have no idea it is so late.

"Hi handsome" It is Betty.

"Hey you" I reply, stifling a yawn.

"Slavey is ready to see you. There is a packet of fried rice on my table in case you are hungry. I have to go now. Take care okay?"

"Yeah, you too. See you tomorrow morning."

"Yep. Tata then"

The line goes dead and I hang up the phone.

Picking up the sheaf of notes that I have made and some files from the shelf, I proceed gingerly to Wolfe's office which is 7 floors above mine, on the 15th level. I have jotted down some calculations and have come up with some plausible estimations of the number of man-hours and raw material costs but most of these numbers are obtained through combining theory with lots of intuition. What if they are wrong? What if I misinterpreted the requirements? Where am I going to find another job that pays well if Slavedriver gives me the sack? A fresh graduate getting fired in less than 2 years is not going to havemuch chances of finding employment in large companies locally.

The panel of flashing lights above the lift blink monotonously, stopping at the number 15 as the lift comes to a halt. The doors slide open and I make my way across the wide expanse of red carpet spotted with pots of green ferns and standing bouquets of flowers. There are four rooms on this level, to the north is the largest office which belongs to the Managing Director. To the east are two medium-sized rooms and to the west is a similar room. The occupants of these offices are the Product Divisional Managers. Wolfe's office is fronted by a continuous piece of tinted glass that only allows one to see through from within the room. Betty's table is just outside the Electronics Divisional Manager's office to the west. The place is silent and quite deserted since it is now after office hours.

I knock twice on the darkish brown oak door and wait patiently for Slavedriver to acknowledge. After awhile, nothing happens. I knock once more, this time increasing the pressure so that it sounds a little louder than the previous ones. Moments later, still nothing. Curious, I turn the bronze knob and peer inside the room. The lights are on but Wolfe is no where to be seen.

Treading carefully into the office on legs that are shaking weakly, I cannot help but feel my fear tripled by the oppressive setting. Dull, red curtains drape the entire stretch of glass panes that overlook the streets beneath. Grand, somber mahogany furniture that absorb life from the surroundings seem to convey not only the owner's power but also to warn of dire consequences should he or she be offended. The only decorations on the walls are oil paintings of ancient battles, some I recognize to be of the Roman wars with the distinctive chariots. But even these legendary vehicles lack the brilliant metallic shine that is usually seen in glossy magazine photographs or depicted in books. The paintings scream of bloodshed and massacre in grotesque tones of gray and striking red. Fortunately, there is a corner to the far right that is pleasing to the eye: a small bar that is lit by warm orange spotlights and boasting a fairly sizable collection of liquor, meticulously placed in a cabinetbuilt into the wall.

I grab a chair with a low back rest and sink into it, nervously flipping through the notes and files in my hands. The minutes go by slowly but still no sign of Slavedriver. I glimpse at my watch and read the display, 9:45pm. Where can he be? I guess I will have to call home to inform Dad that I will not be back before midnight. Recovering the hand-phone in my suit pocket, I deftly press the numbers and is awaiting for the line to connect when a loud belch catches my attention. It seems to come from under the bar counter.

"Is anyone there?"

Silence. Follow by a series of muffled and confusing speech, that sounds like ramblings from a mad man. I approach the bar as quietly as possible, not wanting to frighten whoever it is, hoping it is a greedy, harmless cleaner out to steal the expensive wine yet wary at the same time that it can be a dangerous burglar armed with deadly weapons.

Luckily it turns out to be a man slumped on the floor, obviously very drunk and I suspect out cold after taking some drugs. He looks very well-dressed, tucked out in a blue Armani suit and matching pants, the suit unbuttoned and hanging from his shoulders in a lopsided fashion. Clutched in his hand is an empty Hennessy bottle and scattered on the carpet next to him are some white oval-shaped tablets. Nearby is a crumpled gray silk tie and a forsaken black leather shoe trimmed in golden linings along with a polished trademark that resembles a symbol G enclosed in a circle. I push the man around and gasp in astonishment. It is my strict commanding boss, Wolfe Addams! He appears to be oblivious of my presence as he persists in his inebriated talk. I look in disgust at the liquid stains that blotch his black shirt, the remnants of the liquor drooling from his lips and the horrible stench of vomit.

Having no other alternatives, I decide to clean him up. There is a special washroom accessible only through this office. It is some distance away from the row of glass panes that open onto the desolate night view of Shenton Way, hidden behind a coat hangar. I help Wolfe up, draping his hand over my shoulders, my nose twitching at the reeling mix of Calvin Klein cologne, vomit and manly sweat. Suddenly I feel my crotch tighten and panic well up inside me. This cannot be happening! He is my boss, moreover he is drunk and quite helpless. Then there is the problem of him being dirty and unsightly. How can I feel attracted to him? Besides he has a wife and a son. This is totally immoral. I firmly push away the unbidden thought of having this man naked in my arms, reminding myself that I am here to work.

Turning on the tap, I leave it running and attend to the dictatorial boss now slouching against the wall of the washroom, spouting nonsense. It is impossible to decipher exactly what he is saying except broken pieces of information about some woman named Sandy taking the boy away, heartless bitch sleeping with his boss and how he hurts but has to hide his feelings from everyone. In between all these are snatches of obscenities, directed at nobody in particular. Swiftly, I remove his suit and strip him of his shirt only to stop and stare. He has a remarkably beautiful body! A mat of fine, tawny hair covers his muscular chest and disappears into his brown leather belt and pants. 6 solid pounds of meat reside where the abdomen should have been and sleek but hard flesh ripples from his shoulders all the way to the arms. His nipples look like succulent grapes waiting to be plucked. My mind instantly conjures up images of a nice tight butt and long stiff penis waiting to be suck. Again I snubbed these thoughts as soon as they surface.

I return to the basin, soak my cotton handkerchief with water – noting the purple floral design deepen in color as the water dampens the material, and squat next to my boss preparing to wipe his mouth. I cannot help but notice how luscious and full his lips are, it is as if they are beckoning you to kiss and taste them. I check the ridiculous impulse to cover his mouth with mine. He has a square and hard chin, an attribute of a man grilled by the harsh realities of life to be tough, and a beard is starting to grow suspiciously; The eyelashes are deceptively long with a natural curve to them that is both exotic and alluring; The chiseled nose reminds one of a piece of newly molded plaster, perfect and flawless; High cheekbones accentuate a hard face that has uncompromising and demanding written all over it. With a ruggedly masculine face like this, it is difficult for any woman or gay male to resist him. Added to this is also the fact that at the age of 29 Wolfe is rich and has a successful career. It is no wonder there are stories of female colleagues who are willing to throw themselves at his feet, bending themselves over to please his tiniest whim and fancy, despite his being married and that he is very faithful to his wife.

Gently I clean his face, my hands quivering and the pulse at my throat quickening with each touch. I swallow the sudden lump of desire, choking on it as my hands lower to his semi-naked body. Soft seductive moans escape from his mouth as I stroke his nipples to remove drops of booze that may still be there. I can feel his warm breath floating onto my face as those delicious lips move wordlessly, the smell of alcohol wafting past my nose. Shuddering as sparks of ecstasy spread uncontrollably through my system, I lightly brush the handkerchief near the navel and stand up abruptly, scared of what will happen if I continue. While washing the handkerchief at the basin, I check my reflection in the mirror - my mouth is wide open, my eyes have that lusty, dreamy look and my face is flushed, clearly I look like someone who has been indulging in an hour of foreplay - I splash generous amounts of water on my face to keep my mind clear. For the last time I tell myself that my purpose here is to work.

Gathering up everything, I drag Wolfe from the cold mosaic floor and stagger along with him back to the office. Hurriedly, I place him in a sitting position back where I first found him under the bar counter, leaving his suit and shirt on his lap. Next, I run to the huge rectangular table where my notes and files are, sweep them up in one fluid motion, dash out of the office and head straight for home. I cannot trust myself to not do anything foolish if I stay any longer.

In my haste, I have completely forgotten about the fried rice on Betty's table and the handkerchief that I have mistakenly discard in Wolfe's pile of clothes.