Jennifer's Surrender (3 page)

 
“Sorry.” I pushed my hair back nervously
behind my ear and started. “Ok, Tutto is all about pampering, taking care of
its guests in all ways. And while it appeals to both men and women, more of its
services, especially all the spa and fitness offerings, are geared more towards
women. Not to mention that, in couples who are going on vacation, women
typically drive the hotel choice. So our campaign, while universal, skews
towards adult women.” I took a breath as my heart started beating faster.

 
“With so much conversation in pop culture
about submitting, giving in, and being taken care of, Tutto is the ultimate
destination for the over-worked woman who does everything. It’s the one place
where she can surrender, knowing that she will be well taken care of. So,
that’s the concept behind our campaign: Surrender.”

Bill’s
eyebrows arched and a slight smile appeared. I exhaled and relaxed for a
moment. Before I continued with the rest of the pitch , Bill asked, “and this
is
your
idea, Jen?” the way he said
it, I thought I must have completely blown it.

I nodded
sheepishly and then turned to Greg and said, “Sorry, partner.” And shrugged my
shoulders. He shrugged back, probably just happy I didn’t try to pass it off as
our
idea.

 
“Why do you immediately think I hate it,
Jen?” Bill asked, now his arms were crossed and he was leaning so far back in
his swivel chair that I couldn’t help but let my eyes drift down to his crotch.
I immediately looked back up and said,

 
“Well, the way you asked if it was my
idea… it just sounded like you were looking for someone to blame. So, if you
are, that would be me. Please don’t drag Greg into this. I know we’re a team,
but I kind of forced him to come along on the ride for this one.”

 
“Why?” was all Bill asked. God this was
embarrassing, getting called on the carpet by my boss in front of my peers.

 
“I was just so sure that this was the
appeal. It just seems so clear to me. It was all I could see, frankly.” I was
so deflated.

 
“I agree.” Bill said.

 
“What?” I asked, not sure I heard him
correctly.

Bill laughed,
“I agree with your premise, your reasoning, and I think it’s exactly the sell.”

 
“Really!?!” I shrieked.

Bill laughed
again, “Really, Jen. Good job tapping into this. I’m proud of you. I want you
to take the lead on this. We’re presenting next week.”

I knew I was
grinning ear to ear. I wanted to jump up and down and run around the conference
table to give Bill a hug. I wasn’t crazy. It wasn’t just all the smut I’d been
reading! I was right!

 
“Jen, our Creative Director, will walk
you through the concept.” Bill said as if offering up a tiny mouse to a hungry
python. I knew the product and our pitch well enough, but all I knew about the
client, Stephen London, aside from what I had read online, was that he and Bill
went way back. There was something about him that was so intimidating, so
overwhelmingly powerful that I felt like everyone in the room must be able to
hear my heart beating, it was pounding so hard. It didn’t help that he was stunningly
handsome. He had to be around Bill’s age, so it was a combination of looks,
charisma, raw masculinity and confidence. Basically, it was the whole package.

Even before I
opened my mouth, I knew that what I was about to say would make me blush. The
way he looked at me, just his look, I felt deep down in my belly. And now, here
I was, about to explain the concept behind the campaign. It was just a look,
but I guess that’s all it took for me to feel like I
was
the tiny mouse for him to toy with and eventually consume.

I cleared my
throat and started to speak, much meeker than usual, but I couldn’t help it. “Our
overall concept is, ‘Surrender’” I paused, I knew I was bright red, but his
expression was implacable. I glanced over to Bill and his look was one of
support, encouragement, which helped. I straightened my shoulders and
continued, trying to sound more secure and forceful. “In today’s busy world,
many women feel the constant pressure of work, family, home and friends. They
have no time to themselves, and they have to take care of everyone and
everything in their lives. The notion of giving in, surrendering is foreign,
even laughable to many,” I paused and looked down to take a breath. From the
minute I started speaking his eyes did not leave mine and I felt as though
somehow just his glance was literally taking my breath away.

Before I
started speaking again, I took a deep breath and consciously or subconsciously,
I don’t know which, I licked my lips. I’d like to think it was because my mouth
was dry, but I had lip gloss on and my lips were just fine. I don’t know what
made me do it. I’ve never been overtly sexual before with a client. But he
liked it as a small, almost imperceptible smile crept across his face. It
vanished almost as soon as it had appeared, but I knew I saw it. He approved.
He liked what he saw. And that tiny assent lifted my spirits, and I continued,
bolstered now by his validation.

 
“But if the promise to your guests that
all they have to do is surrender, and your hotel will take care of the rest, that
it will tend to their needs, keep them safe and warm, pamper them and offer
them all of the pleasures that daily life does not, then the notion of
surrender is no longer seen as weak, but rather it becomes their key to
happiness.” I paused, “for at least a night.” I smiled and paused.

There was
silence. This was the part where he either loved the idea or hated it.

 
“Jennifer, is that right?” he asked,
confirming my name, though somehow I very much doubted this man ever forgot a
name, much less anything else. I don’t know where my reply came from. I’m not
from the South and I’ve never called a client ‘sir’ before, so maybe it was
from all the books I had been reading, but from somewhere I replied what would
be the first of many times,

 
“Yes, Sir.” And I briefly looked down as
I said it. Again, this wasn’t a performance, I wasn’t purposely acting out a
role. There was something about his presence that compelled me. I don’t know if
it was that moment, or some other, that he knew he had me. But he clearly liked
the way I addressed him as he smiled slowly, never taking his eyes off of mine.

 
“Jennifer, let me ask you a question.
You’re a woman. You’re my target audience. Does the notion of surrender appeal
to
you
?” The way he asked it felt so
intimate, so personal, yet we were in a conference room of a dozen or so
people. I knew I was bright red again, or still.

And all I
could ask was, meekly, “Sir?”

 
“Your concept of surrender, that women
who visit my hotels will buy into that notion. Why?” His tone was somehow
insistent but calm. His voice didn’t rise, but I got the distinct impression
that he didn’t like having to repeat himself, especially when it seemed he
already knew the answer.

Somehow I
regained my composure, “Well, like I said, they’ll only submit, uh, surrender,
if they know that they’re going to be taken care of. Many women today have it
all, but that can be exhausting. I think many women fantasize about giving in,
letting go, but they can’t if there’s no one who will catch them. No one would
buy into the notion of surrendering at motel because there’s no one there to
take care of them. But the idea of arriving at your hotel, and having a
personal valet or concierge essentially say, you don’t have to think, you don’t
have to plan, we will take care of everything, and you’ll love it. Well, I
think that’s very attractive proposition. Even aspirational.” I saw some of the
women’s heads around the room nodding, and I was thankful for the distraction
and I used it, “I see some of you agree.”

And I focused
on a plain, slightly heavy woman. Her roots were overdue for a highlight and
she looked tired. It didn’t take more than me making eye contact with her for
her to see that as an invitation, “I can totally relate!” she said
enthusiastically.

 
“Do tell, Judy.” Stephen said, in a
clipped manner. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I don’t think he wanted
anyone else in the room to speak.

 
“Well, I mean, I’m the one who takes care
of the kids, you know, gets them ready in the morning, gets them off to school,
then I come here to work, and then it’s my responsibility to have dinner ready
when my husband comes home, and have a clean house and then on the weekends, it
doesn’t stop between soccer games and ballet classes, it’s exhausting. I think
all of my friends would be up for a night or weekend of surrender. Sign me up
now!” everyone in the room chuckled, but Stephen simply nodded.

I’m not sure
what made me say the next thing, but, it came from somewhere, “But you need to
deliver on your end of the bargain.” Perhaps my voice only sounded breathier
and sexier to me. I don’t know. And I don’t know where that bravado came from.
Where ever it was, it was quickly dashed as Stephen asked flatly,

“Do you have
any doubt that I will, Jennifer?”

It was almost
as if he had rapped my knuckles with a ruler. I looked down and shook my head
and mumbled quietly, “No, Sir.” Apparently too quietly.

 
“Speak up, Jennifer.” He commanded.

I looked up
and straight into his eyes and repeated, “No, Sir.”

Thankfully,
Bill regained control of the rest of the meeting, showing Stephen the rest of
the campaign. I sat quietly, with my hands in my lap for the rest of the
meeting, trying to look anywhere but at him. Every time I did glance over, I
felt a wave of disappointment as his focus was on the screen and the work. I
felt like I had somehow upset him, though logically, I wasn’t sure how I could
have. Later of course, I’d understand just how right on target my instincts were.

The day after
the presentation, my office phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number so I
answered, “This is Jen.”

 
“Hello, Jennifer, this is Stephen
London.”

I was
immediately tongue tied, “Uh, hi, Stephen, uh, Mr. London.”

 
“Stephen is fine for now.” He replied.

 
“Oh, ok, Stephen. Um, how can I help
you?” As those words left my mouth, I thought, oh my God, I sound like I work
at McDonalds. I just had no idea why this big, important, intimidating man was
calling me. Directly. I thought maybe he misdialed and meant to call Bill. I
heard a little chuckle on his end and I was thankful he couldn’t see me because
I was once again, bright red.

 
“You could help me by having dinner with
me.”

“Dinner?” I
was so taken aback, I’m sure I sounded like, well, I’m not sure what I sounded
like. I just know I didn’t sound calm, cool, collected.

 
“You do eat, don’t you, Jennifer?” he
asked and there was something about the way he said it that made me shiver.

I tried to
regain my composure, “Yes, Stephen, I’m just surprised by the invitation,
that’s all.”

 
“Are you familiar with Kozu on Ocean?” he
asked. It was known to be one of the best, if not the best, sushi restaurants
in LA.

 
“Yes.” Was all I got out before he said,

 
“Wonderful. I’ll see you there at 7.”

 
“Wait, tonight? I didn’t even accept yet.
And, what if I have plans already?”

 
“Well, do you accept, Jennifer?” his tone
was so… what was it? Menacing? Authoritative?

 
“Is this a date?” I asked. I wasn’t sure
it was such a good idea if it were, given that he might be a client.

 
“You can call it whatever you like. Is
that important to you?”

 
“Well, if it’s a date, I’d feel more
comfortable after I ask Bill. He might not approve of me going out with a
potential client.”

 
“That’s very respectful of you, Jennifer.
I am sure Bill will approve, but go ahead and ask him. I’ll see you tonight at
Kozu at 7.” Was the last thing he said before he hung up.

My head was
spinning, my heart was pounding. I hadn’t been on a date in about three years,
I certainly wasn’t dressed for a date, and this man intimidated the hell out of
me. I couldn’t sit still in my office, so I walked down the hall to Bill’s.

I stopped in
the doorway as he was on the phone, but he motioned me in with his hand as I
heard him say, “She just walked in.” and then Bill laughed, “Ok, you too.” And
then Bill hung up. He looked at me with a smile that I didn’t recognize.

 
“I’m guessing that was Stephen London?” I
asked with trepidation.

 
“Yes, and it’s fine for you to go out
with him, Jen. I do appreciate you thinking to ask me first though.” He said as
he motioned for me to sit.

 
“You’re not worried about a conflict of
interest? You know, mixing business with pleasure? Oh my God, we didn’t get the
account did we, that’s why you’re ok with me going out with him? Oh, Bill, I’m
so sorry!”

He smiled and
shook his head, “Jen, seriously, why do you always think the worst? We got the
account. Stephen loved your idea. And no, I’m not worried about a conflict of
interest. I’m sure he just wants to take you out to celebrate.”

 
“We got it?!? Oh my God, Bill, that’s
amazing! But why would he want to celebrate with me? Why not you? Maybe you
should join us if that’s what this is?”

He laughed
again, “I don’t think Stephen wants me there. And as to why you? Well, Jen,
you’re a lot prettier than I am.”