It's Personal, All Personal

I was a college senior. He was there visiting the University, about a g*ft that his family was bestowing on the University. It was custom to invite a graduating senior to the lunch, I was a Suma Cum Laude, 4.0 graduating senior in Public Policy. My family had also given a g*ft, no as large but large enough.

He was abrasive, questioned my 'positions'. He demeaned me in front of the University President and the Dean of admissions, and the other guests. I left the lunch humiliated. He followed and told me to think out my positions, not repeat other's positions. He liked my brain, but not my two cent ideas.

I graduated and I received a letter at my home. A job offer, if I was up to it. He would 'mold' me, bring the best out of me, teach me to think. I would work under him. I missed the double entendre. I reported for work after taking the summer off on an art appreciation tour of Europe. My office was beside his, with a door between our offices. My duties were his calendars, I was hired as his personal assistant. Again I missed the double entendre.

It was one week, one week, when I found myself under him and across the Board Room table. He reminded me that he hired me for him. I refused to answer, acknowledge. I put myself together and went to my office. I put my things in a bag, but then I couldn't let him win. So I stayed. to be his 'personal' assistant. To work 'under' him. As often as he felt the need.

After a year he sent me back to University for an MBA in Business. Weekends, Holidays, he brought me back for his attention, to keep me 'under' his thumb. The two years went by fast, I returned to an apartment in his building, under his, with a private stairway up to his.