The Board had received an email 3 months ago announcing the sudden transfer of ownership to this unknown relative of the ageing, childless CEO Mr Webber. They had heard old Mr Webber's penthouse office suite was being re-modeled under secrecy, and a list of demands, staff changes and extravagant expenses had already been claimed. And the repeal of the smoking ban was merely the first of many changes.
"Chief" Schulz (as the memo had instructed he was to be addressed) strode into the Board meeting 30 minutes late, smoking a Casablanca Jerry, ignoring the old office smoking ban.
As the new Chief Executive Officer walked to the head of the boardroom table the Board were faced with a staggering, muscular spectacle. "Chief"'s X-shaped physique was clothed in a costly midnight blue silk mohair bespoke suit, made by the finest Savile Row tailors. Tapering dramatically from padded barn-door shoulders to a narrow waist, and flaring back out again over tightly fitted quad-hugging pants the suit was tailored in such a way to show off "Chief's" massive physique - and little to hide an engorged package. A narrow satin-fine leather tie served to make his bulging neck look even thicker, straining the pure white starched silk-cotton collar. A gold tie-pin displayed some military looking emblem, as did an identical lapel-pin. What looked like glistening leather biker boots jutted out from the bottom of the pants. Schulz's deep posing tan set off the squared-off perfection of the gun-metal glint of steel-gray flat-top.
Schulz slowly walked up to the new double-width black-leather winged-back chair that had appeared at the head of the boardroom table. The new male secretary, who had been waiting nervously for 30 minutes proffered a large crystal cigar-ashtray, relieving the new CEO of the stogie, then stood behind CHIEF, suddenly obscured by the 60" chest of his BOSS. Before sitting, CHIEF unbuttoned the jacket, and shrugged of the tight-fitting sleeves, as the secretary gently pulled the jacket from behind revealing Chief's rippling torso, encased in a short-sleeved military-cut shirt tailored so tightly that it showed Schulz's eight-pack. The Board were amazed by the revealed huge physique looming over them. The cuffs of the short sleeves dug into the gap above the cap of his his ripped biceps, bronzed veins visibly pulsing. The shirt silk above Chief's traps was cut so as to show off the separation between his neck beef and delts that stretched at least 2 feet either side of his pin-head. Mammoth pecs bulged outwards and the shirt material bulged upwards, his upper pecs touching his bearded lantern jaw.
Lyle, the Legal Officer who had had to sign off these mysterious expenses, tented his pants under the boardroom table, and was on the brink of shooting his miserable load as he recognised Chief Schulz as the muscular Foreman from this morning - now his Boss, who had been playing some strange, arrogant game, spying on his new employees. Now he really was showing them who Boss. (And was that secretary one of the two other workmen...?)
"So, if Lyle could come to my office at 5.00 to go over the P + L...". Schulz barked, suddenly staring down the boardroom table right into Lyle's eyes, just like "Foreman" Schulz had before. Lyle's heart started to pound, as he tried not to blush. Lyle crossed his legs, and tried to hide his hardening wood...