Wendy Pt. 04

"What choice would you make?" Jonathan asked.

"The first one," Wendy replied without hesitating. "It makes the most sense from every possible perspective."

"Except one," Jonathan said, smiling. "Vera and I are passionate about food and wine, as you well know. Those Michelin-starred restaurants were big factors in my decision to acquire the properties that they're a part of. Call it ego, but I like the idea of being known as the luxury hotelier with the world's finest restaurants. The worst thing that could happen is that we wouldn't succeed with some of them. We'd then have the choice of making those restaurants fit your first choice and we'd have lost some money. That's most likely with the resorts, I'd imagine. There are only about 100 hotels or resorts in the entire world with a Michelin star. Based on your numbers, you're talking in the neighborhood of $150 million to bring each of 34 properties up to Michelin standard. I'm willing to allocate $250 million to get it done. It's personal."

"Then that's what we'll do," Wendy said without batting an eye. "Now my other idea," she said, her eyes lighting up. "Our own branded wines. Not just any wine. We'll need to find and make deals with top wineries in the world. Since we're going to be needing to create world-class wine collections in each of the properties, why not have our own wines lead the way. We'd be spending the money anyway, so it's a relatively low-cost thing to do. It's very common these days to have private label wines, but you never hear about the wines themselves. That's what we'll need to do differently and we'd do that by only contracting with world-class wineries. We'd need to hire a known wine expert as a consultant, of course. We want articles about our wines to use his name for those in the know to lend them credibility. Our wines will be expensive and only available at our properties, Clandestine wines. Even the name is perfect."

"I absolutely agree," Jonathan said, his face radiating excitement. "Do it."

"I hope that you're not disappointed that I want Shirelle to coordinate the employee evaluation program," Wendy said to Mary back in her office.

"Oh, I am, make no mistake about it," Mary replied, "but I understand. She knows how to do it. She's probably done it before. She may be the receptionist, but we both know that my skillset isn't much beyond being a receptionist."

"But you are invaluable as an assistant," Wendy assured her. "Jonathan and I will discuss things with you that we wouldn't necessarily discuss with Shirelle. You're part of our corporate DNA. Shirelle's new and she won't be our receptionist for very long, I'd bet. We'll end up making her a deputy department head or something. That's what this whole exercise is all about, making sure that we're utilizing everyone in the best possible way for us and for them."

"Thanks," Mary said. "You're right. Besides, I make more than she does, don't I?"

"You most certainly do," Wendy laughed.

"The way you keep coming up with ideas is pretty freaky, you know," Mary said. "How do you do it?"

"I have no idea," Wendy replied, shaking her head. "Something, a word, a color, a smell, will trigger something and then I've got this idea in my head. It's not like I say to myself, okay, give me an idea about something. It just sort of happens."

"That was pretty cool about the way you accepted Jonathan's choice about the whole restaurant thing," Mary said.

"That's my job, to enact his will and offer him my thoughts and insights into things," Wendy said. "Ultimately, this is his company and he has every right to make any decisions that he likes. He's willing to take a loss to try to realize a dream. I actually got wet. It was an incredibly powerful moment. Did you see the passion and excitement on his face? I'm going to make sure that it works, too," she said determinedly.

"I'd never bet against you," Mary said. "So, you're wet? You want me to eat you real quick? Nobody would know."

"Mary! God! Now that's all I'll be thinking about," Wendy laughed.

"One day you're going to say yes," Mary predicted, smiling. "And there's no way that you'll be able to resist a little tension relief with Jonathan forever. Not you. I'll bet that you're getting even wetter right now just thinking about it."

"Mary! Don't you have some work to do?" Wendy exclaimed, flushing.

"There's a Mr. Barrett asking for you on line 2," Shirelle told Wendy.

"Who is he?" Wendy asked.

"No idea, other than he's incredibly gay," Shirelle replied. "Oh, wait, he said that he's an associate of Tony, whoever that is."

"Thanks, Shirelle," Wendy said, disconnecting as she punched line 2. "This is Wendy Rose," she said.

"Ms. Rose, my name is Sidney Barrett," an extremely gay voice said. "Mr. Riletto asked me to get in touch with you. Would you be available for a discrete, private conversation?"

"Uh, sure," Wendy replied. "Can I ask in reference to what?" she asked.

"I'd rather not say over the phone," Mr. Barrett replied. "I would also like to meet privately, not at your place of employment. Once we've talked, you'll understand."

"Okay," Wendy agreed. "When would you like to meet?"

"I could meet you at your residence at 4:00, if that's acceptable," Mr. Barrett replied.

"Today!" Wendy exclaimed. "Okay. Why not? Do you need my address?" she asked.

"I am familiar with Destinations," Mr. Barrett said. "Until 4:00 then?"

"Until then," Wendy said, disconnecting, a puzzled look on her face.

"What was that all about?" Mary asked.

"I have absolutely no idea," Wendy replied. "Tony asked him to come see me. That's all that he'd say."

"Mmm, mysterious," Mary laughed. "I like that. Tony's kinky."

"The man I talked to was extremely gay," Wendy informed her.

"And Tony likes to suck cock," Mary reminded her.

"You are impossible," Wendy laughed.

"Just sayin'," Mary said, shrugging.

"I have to go meet that man," Wendy said at 3:45, getting to her feet. "If Jonathan asks for me, just tell him that I had to go to a meeting, nothing more, okay?"

"Sure, no problem," Mary replied. "I'll see you when I get home."

"Ms. Rose, there is a Mr. Barrett here to see you," the man at the reception desk said when she answered the house phone.

"I'm expecting him," Wendy said. "Please send him up."

"Yes, ma'am," the receptionist said. "He also has quite a few...packages with him."

"Packages?" Wendy said. "Well, send them up, too, please."

"Right away, ma'am," he said, hanging up.

Wendy was waiting at the elevator when the doors opened and a somewhat portly, but very nattily dressed man in his 50s stepped into the foyer and offered his hand, Wendy struggling not to show her revulsion when she compared the experience of shaking his hand to overcooked pasta. With him was one of the bellmen with a luggage cart and several boxes, or crates on it.

"Ms. Rose, it's a pleasure to meet you," he said.

"Thank you," Wendy replied. "Why don't you just leave those here in the foyer?" she suggested to the bellman.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, then began removing them from the luggage cart, Mr. Barrett watching him the whole time. "There's three more loads like this," he said.

"What on earth!" Wendy exclaimed. "Just put them with the others, please."

"Treat them very gently," Mr. Barrett said.

"Yes, sir, we will," the bellman answered, stepping back into the elevator.

"Won't you please come in," Wendy said, leading the way to the living room and indicating that he should sit, which he did, on one of the chairs facing the sofa, a glass coffee table in between.

"I am sorry that I had to be so circumspect when we spoke earlier on the phone," he said. "I am Mr. Riletto's curator."

"Curator, as in art?" Wendy asked, her eyes widening as the crates in her foyer started to make more sense.

"Exactly," he replied. "I don't know if you are aware, but Mr. Riletto is one of the world's pre-eminent private art collectors. His collection is renowned."

"I know that he has some incredible pieces in his home," Wendy said.

"Approximately half of his collection is in various museums around the world," Mr. Barrett explained, "the rest is in storage."

"What a shame," Wendy said without thinking.

"Exactly, which brings me to the point of my visit," Mr. Barrett said, clearing his throat. "Not intending any disrespect or insult, Mr. Riletto expressed to me his...disappointment with the artwork that you have on your walls, understanding that you bought this home fully furnished as is. He would like to store some of his collection with you. He thought that you might appreciate it more than what you currently have."

"Artwork from Tony's collection, on my walls?" Wendy gasped, paling in shock. "You're not serious!"

"Oh, quite serious," Mr. Barrett said, smiling. "In fact, you'd be more than welcome to rotate pieces for others in his collection as your tastes changed or waned. Mr. Riletto frequently does that with his home."

"But why?" Wendy asked, astonished.

"I never ask such questions," Mr. Barrett replied, smiling thinly. "Mr. Riletto's wishes need no explanation as far as I'm concerned. It's enough that he expresses them."

"I am just overwhelmed," Wendy said, her heart pounding. "And I've been rude. Would you like something to drink; coffee, tea, a glass of wine?"

"A glass of wine would be very nice," Mr. Barrett replied, now smiling.

"I'll be right back," Wendy said.

When she returned from the kitchen with two glasses of rose that finished the bottle that she had in the refrigerator, Mr. Barrett was no longer sitting in his chair. Putting the two glasses down on the glass coffee table, Wendy went to the foyer where she found him supervising the unloading of two luggage carts full of wooden crates.

"There's just one more," the bellman said as he got back into the elevator after first pushing the luggage carts in. "I'll send them up with your man."

"An installer," Mr. Barrett said to the quizzical look that Wendy gave him. "Just in case you accepted Mr. Riletto's offer."

"You're going to install them now?" Wendy asked, her eyes wide.

"Unless you object," Mr. Barrett said.

"No, no," Wendy said. "I think that I need that glass of wine now, too," she said, leading the way back to the living room.

"Thank you," Mr. Barrett said, picking up the glass of wine in front of his seat, then tasting it. "Very nice," he said, taking a bigger sip. "There are a few things that I am compelled to discuss with you, if I may."

"Please," Wendy said.

"These artworks are loans, not gifts," Mr. Barrett said.

"I should think not," Wendy laughed.

"That is actually to protect you from tax liabilities," Mr. Barrett said. "I have no doubt that Mr. Riletto would be happy to gift them to you, but then you'd have to pay a gift tax to the government that would be in the millions of dollars. As a loan, indeed the contract that I will ask you to sign states that you are agreeing to store the artworks, is designed to protect you from just that tax liability."

"I see," Wendy said, finding it hard to breath.

"And for insurance purposes, any stored artworks must be in a secure environment, both temperature and humidity-wise, but also with a surveillance system," Mr. Barrett continued. "Mr. Riletto will pay for the security system, which would be exactly like the one that he has in his own home."

"Okay," Wendy agreed. "That makes sense."

"Ah, Henry is here," Mr. Barrett said, getting to his feet as they heard the elevator doors opening.

Wendy followed him to the foyer which by now was full of crates with barely enough room for the three of them to stand as Henry unloaded the last of the crates and sent the elevator back down with the luggage cart. Wendy couldn't help noticing that Henry was at least as tall as she was with short red hair and blue eyes and an easy, friendly smile, all on a lanky frame.

"Wendy Rose," she said, offering her hand to shake.

"Henry Watson," he replied, his eyes sparkling as he looked her over, his hand almost caressing hers as they shook.

"Henry, start unpacking while I finish up the paperwork with Ms. Rose," Mr. Barrett said. "Bring them to the living room and we'll line them against the wall so that Ms. Rose can see what we've brought. They we'll determine where each one will be hung."

"Yes, sir," Henry said.

Wendy found the paperwork to be fairly straightforward when she read it, then signed, in duplicate, along with Mr. Barrett, then Henry as a witness.

"I don't know what to say," Wendy said, light-headed as she stared at the line of paintings on the floor leaning against the walls.

"I suggest that we start with the bedroom," Mr. Barrett suggested. "It's the most personal space, the one that you're going to spend the most time in. I also say that because Mr. Riletto sent three pieces that he suggests go into your bedroom and the second master suite. Once you decide on them, then you can round out the rooms."

"What three pieces?" Wendy asked.

Henry went over to where three of the pieces had been stacked one on top of the other facing the wall, each 4' tall and 3' wide. Picking up the first one, Henry placed it on the floor in front of the other paintings, turning it around, smiling when he saw Wendy's face flush scarlet when she saw the photo of herself with Tony's cock on her tongue. Her heart pounding, she watched as Henry turned the other two around, one with her leaning back, her freshly fucked pussy full of cum, and the one where she was looking back over her shoulder, a finger in her ass.

"Quite provocative, I must say," Mr. Barrett said, clucking his tongue. "But brilliant photos. In each of them, your eyes seem to pierce me, to jump right off the paper. If you move around, they seem to follow you. Extraordinary. Which two would you like in your bedroom?" he asked.

Struggling to find her voice and not make a fool of herself, Wendy pointed at the first two that Henry had turned around.

"Those two," she managed to say. "My roommate likes the other one."

"Please show us to your bedroom," Mr. Barrett said. "This is very nice," he said when they were in the bedroom. "I'd put one of them over your bed and the other on the wall at the foot of the bed," he suggested.

"That one over the bed," Wendy said, pointing to the photo of Tony's cock on her tongue.

"Very good," Mr. Barrett said as Henry placed them on the floor against the wall. "I suggest two more pieces for this room. It's really two distinct areas. I think that the O'Keeffe would look good on this wall and the Degas on that one," he suggested, pointing.

Wendy shook her head as she tried to come to grips with the fact that they were discussing artwork for her bedroom walls. Henry returned with the two pieces and placed them where Mr. Barrett had indicated.

"The bedroom for the third photograph?" Mr. Barrett asked, and Wendy led them to Mary's bedroom.

"I think that the Schiele, the Mapplethorpe, and the Hokusai should go here," Wendy said, smiling.

"An interesting roommate, is it?" Mr. Barrett asked as Henry went for the pieces.

"Very," Wendy replied, smiling.

"There's a third bedroom, I believe?" Mr. Barrett asked.

"Yes, but how are all of these going to fit in here without it seeming, well, crowded?" Wendy asked. "That would be such a shame. They each need their own space or they'll lose something."

"Mr. Riletto was very specific about how many pieces of what sizes that I should choose," Mr. Barrett said. "If he says that they'll fit, they'll fit. He's got a very good eye in that way, and his taste is impeccable."

"I'll say," Wendy sighed in agreement. "Let's save the third bedroom for last," she suggested. "Let's go to the office/library next. There's only room for a couple of them there, but I already know which ones I want."

"Why don't you tell Henry and he'll bring them along now?" Mr. Barrett suggested. "None of these choices we're making now are fixed in stone. This is just a first stab at it, then we'll make adjustments when we see how it's going to look."

"The Gainsborough and the Turner," Wendy said, now enjoying herself, over the shock.

"I'd say that these are perfect choices," Mr. Barrett said when he saw the room and Henry placed the paintings where Wendy indicated.

"Hey, what's going on?" Wendy heard Mary call out.

"That's my roommate," she explained, heading for the living room.

"Did you rob a museum or something?" Mary asked when she saw Wendy, then Mr. Barrett and Henry behind her.

"It's Tony," Wendy replied. "He wants to store some of his art collection here."

"No shit!" Mary exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. "Some of these aren't bad," she said and Wendy had to restrain herself from laughing when she heard Mr. Barrett choke.

"This is Mary," Wendy introduced. "Mr. Barrett and Henry."

"Hi," Mary said.

"Go see what I've chosen for your bedroom and tell me if you like it," Wendy said. "You can change any of them for one of these," she said, indicating the paintings all over the room.

"Oh, yes!" Mary screamed from her bedroom. "I love it! I am so going to masturbate myself to death looking at that picture of you," she cried out, laughing, Wendy flushing as Mr. Barrett rolled his eyes and Henry smiled, his blue eyes dancing. "Those other three are pretty cool, too. I get all the pervy stuff?" she asked, eyeing the others on the floor around the room.

"Go check out my bedroom," Wendy said.

"Oh, Wendy, you are just so fucking hot," Mary said from her bedroom. "God! Hey, this is pretty cool," she said, returning, her smile splitting her face.

"We're trying to figure out where to put them all," Wendy explained.

"Go for it," Mary said. "I'm going to take a shower."

Two hours later Wendy was finally satisfied with the distribution of the paintings, with the living room getting Gaugin, Monet, Kandinsky, Chagall, Miro, Mondrian, and Dali, the dining room Cézanne, Pissarro, Renoir, Manet, Steen, and Caravaggio, and the third bedroom Malevich, Koons, and Pollock. The Giacometti sculpture went out by the pool at the end opposite the steps leading into it.

"It's late and I think that it would be a good idea if you saw the rooms like this for a night and a day," Mr. Barrett said. "You can change things around if you think you'd like it differently. Henry can come back tomorrow with the security system installers and hang the various pieces."

"That sounds like a good idea," Wendy said, drained.

"How much time do you need to hang everything, Henry?" Mr. Barrett asked.

"At least 3-4 hours," Henry replied.

"Would 2:00 tomorrow be okay?" Mr. Barrett asked.

"Yes," Wendy replied. "I'll take the afternoon off."

"It's going to take me a few trips to get these empty crates out of your foyer," Henry said.

"I understand," Wendy said. "If you like, you can take what you can in a single trip now, then get the rest tomorrow."

"As long as you don't mind the mess in your foyer," Henry said.

"It won't be a problem," Wendy assured him.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow at 2:00," Henry said.

"So, what's the big deal?" Mary asked, finding Wendy collapsed on the sofa in the living room.

"Tony!" Wendy replied. "We've got $200, $300 million worth of art in here now."

"No shit!" Mary gasped. "These are worth that much?"

"Just a guess, but it's a lot," Wendy replied.

"Maybe we should invite Tony over to fuck more often, what do you think?" Mary asked, laughing.

Wendy explained everything to Mary, about the tax stuff, the insurance, and the security system.

"Tony must really be loaded," Mary said.

"Jonathan said that he's one of the 25 richest people in the world," Wendy said.

"I won't hold that against him," Mary laughed. "He's a sweetheart and I'd fuck him even if he was broke."

"You are too much," Wendy laughed. "God, suddenly I'm starved."