Meyer-Hofmann AG

11

Munich Airport is approximately forty kilometres from the town centre, most of which is motorway, and within twenty minutes, Michael and Lisa found themselves driving down Leopold Street. The victory gate or Siegestor marks the boundary of the Ludwig Maximillian University. Both passengers craned their necks to get a better look at the monument.

“Wow, that’s impressive; it looks just like Marble Arch,” Lisa said.

The buildings also took on a more regal air at this point, and they both found themselves looking from right to left for a better view. Ludwig Street merges directly into the Odeonsplatz and the junction with Gallery Street. Michael was just about to ask Heinz if they would be able to visit this district of Munich again when the car came to a halt, and Heinz moved around the vehicle to open their door.

Herman Reichard was standing on the pavement, waiting to greet them. Michael rushed up, hand outstretched, recognising Reichard from photographs he had seen. This was the CEO of Meyer-Hofmann. He had not expected to be interviewed by him, let alone receive a personal welcome. But Reichard ducked around him, instead taking Lisa’s hand and introducing himself. Michael experienced a small moment of self-consciousness before the man took him warmly by the hand.

“Please excuse me, Mr Jarvis, but it is a German custom to greet a woman before the man, irrespective of his importance.”

Michael was instantly put at ease by Reichard’s charm, and found himself reprimanding himself for not introducing Lisa to Reichard first.

“No, no, no, my fault—where are my manners? Herr Reichard, this is my wife, Lisa. Lisa, Herr Reichard is the CEO of Meyer-Hofmann.” Reichard smiled at them both.

“It is lovely to meet both of you,” he said in almost accent-free English. “Please, do come in.”

He turned and made his way through the entrance, beckoning for them to follow. Michael took his wife’s hand and led her after the CEO, into the club on Gallery Street.

Once inside, a steward guided the party into the ground floor bar and dining room. The walls and ceiling of the room were clad with rosewood panelling, the floor covered in a deep, dark blue oriental-patterned carpet.

Lisa felt her Italian heels sink into the carpet’s pile, making her worry she might take a tumble if she didn’t watch her step. She was also grateful she had not worn her Vivien Westwood dress, which would have clashed horribly with the fussy pattern.

My God, who does your interior decorating? Yuk!

Michael looked at her as if he could read her mind, and was just hoping she didn’t forget herself and offer an opinion. They were led towards one of the teak tables, surrounded by large, comfortable chairs upholstered in an expensive cream material. These were more Lisa’s taste, and she thought that she might quite like one in her bedroom. Two men waited for them expectantly by the table. Both were in their seventies, and one seemed strangely familiar to her. Reichard waited for Michael and Lisa to catch up, and then introduced them to the other men.

“Mr and Mrs Jarvis, I would like you to meet Dr Herbert Ecker and Johann Von Klitzing.”

Ecker had to cough before shaking their hand, and both made a mental note to wash their hands at the first opportunity, as the man looked very unwell. With the exception of a reddish patch of skin on his forehead, Von Klitzing, on the other hand, was a picture of health. As a younger man, they imagined he must have been quite athletic. Reichard motioned for them to be seated, and the steward immediately set the table for tea.

“I trust you both take tea?”

“Thank you,” they replied in unison.

It was an Earl Grey, not Lisa’s favourite, but this wasn’t about her, and she was not going to make a fuss. Instead, she sat back, sipped her tea, and let the men get on with it.

“I hope our intentions are clear, Mr Jarvis. We would very much like you to come and work for us here at Meyer-Hofmann.”

Wow, he wasn’t messing about. Michael took a breath and collected his thoughts.

“Your offer is very generous, Herr Reichard. I would just like to get a better idea of what the job would entail, where we would be living, how much travelling I would have to do, that’s all.”

Lisa reached into her voluminous bag and placed Michael’s comprehensive CV on the table in front of him.

“Thank you, darling.”

Taking the CV, he passed it to Reichard, who gave it further to Von Klitzing.

“This is my CV.”

Michael watched as Von Klitzing opened it, and scanned the first few sides.

“If you don’t mind, I have a question?”

The men motioned for him to continue.

“My main concern is, I find it very unusual that a holding firm would be interested in setting up an IT department?”

He said it as a matter of fact, unable to decide whether to address his question to Reichard or Von Klitzing.

“I agree, it is not at all commonplace, but we at Meyer-Hofmann do not believe in doing things the normal way. We have noticed that many of our holdings could do better by embracing modern technology. Furthermore, we are sure that this could become a very profitable venture. It would allow us to move funds through our holdings more easily, allowing us to invoice our own subsidiaries at a price which we ourselves could set.”

Reichard watched for Lisa’s reaction to this, but she remained unmoved.

“Listen, Mr Jarvis, we are well aware of your qualifications and are convinced you are the right man for the job. We would like the opportunity to show you both the benefits of a move to Munich. If you don’t mind, we have made a small itinerary for the pair of you?”

Michael shook his head.

“I suggest you first get comfortable. We will take you to the hotel and get you settled in, then pick you both up at 3:30 pm. I would like you, Michael, to meet your future colleagues at our headquarters next to the Donnersberger Bridge, whilst your wife may like to look at a few of our company flats?”

They both nodded their consent to this, and Reichard sat back in his chair. Von Klitzing then leant forward.

“If it is okay with you both, I have arranged for Mrs Jarvis to meet the people from PricewaterhouseCoopers tomorrow?”

This surprised Lisa. It was not at all usual that PricewaterhouseCoopers offices worked on Sundays, but she thought that it would certainly be a worthwhile exercise.

“And, Mr Jarvis, the doctor would like you to do a small medical examination tomorrow, if that is all right?”

The couple looked at each other quizzically, prompting Reichard to interject.

“It is quite usual these days in Germany; all executive officers are subject to a medical. After all, we are paying you a considerable sum of money. We just want to protect our interests.”

“Of course, of course, no problem.”

Michael was unflustered. A medical held no fears for him. The meeting continued in a congenial fashion for another fifteen minutes before they rose, and Reichard led them back to the waiting limousine.

“I have not arranged anything for this evening, but I can recommend the hotel restaurant. It is called Trader Vic’s. If you like Asian food, it is very good.”

With that, he closed the car door and disappeared back into the club. It was only a short ride to their hotel, the Bayerischer Hof. The closer they got to the hotel, the more lavish the shops became. It was obvious that this was Munich’s version of Oxford Street. Michael smiled as they got out of the car.

“I know this place—the England football team stayed here, I think, during the Euros. And this is where Liam Gallagher got his teeth knocked out.”

“No! Really? I can’t imagine anybody fighting in this place.”

Lisa looked around at the lavishly decorated lobby. A little staid for her tastes, but a definite improvement on the old man’s club they had just left.

“Not in here, in their nightclub. I read about it in The Guardian, I think.”

They had been given suite 705 on the panorama floor. A book on the lounge table told how interior designer Siegward Graf Pilati had styled the 120-square-metre suite into a Mediterranean dream. They were greeted by yellow tones and high ceilings. A large studio window overlooked the rooftops of Munich and led out to an 80-square-metre terrace, complete with fountain. Lisa immediately opened the window and went out. The view was stunning. Michael came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, and she pressed back into his warm chest.

“I like his place.”

“The hotel?”

“No, Munich. I like Munich; it’s a beautiful place.”

The afternoon passed as planned. He met his new team at the firm’s HQ, while she was shown round three exclusive flats, all overlooking different parks in the heart of Munich. They met up again just before 7:00 pm in the suite and collapsed on the large double bed.

“How was it?” she asked.

“Good, they were really nice.”

“I’ve run us a bath,” she cooed.

“Ooh, good idea.”

She took his hand and led him past the open fire and into the enormous bathroom. The centrepiece was a sunken whirlpool bath big enough to contain a rugby team. They undressed and climbed into the hot, healing water. Jets massaged their shoulders and tickled their toes, while the sweet smell of bath salts cleared their heads, rejuvenating and invigorating the pair. Lisa moved onto his lap and helped his hands up to her breasts. The water made them feel even fuller than usual in his hands. Michael kneaded them enthusiastically, and holding her nipples expertly between his thumb and forefinger, he rolled them gently. She pressed her bottom against him, manipulating his manhood between her legs. Leaning her head back on his shoulder, she let out a small groan as he entered her. Pressing against one another, they rhythmically moved their hips together, him gyrating, her gently lifting and lowering herself on his length. Slowly increasing the speed of their movements as if guided by an invisible conductor, they were in perfect unison until they both exploded. Their orgasms came simultaneously. She lifted off him, her back arching out of the hot water. Her noise was coarse and wild, free of inhibition. His breath was heavy, as he sucked in air to fill his void, but only a sigh left his lips to announce his satisfaction.