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EXPERT SERVICE
PENNY WYLDER
 CONTENTS

Copyright
Books By Penny Wylder

1. Scarlett
2. Chris
3. Scarlett
4. Scarlett
5. Chris
6. Scarlett
7. Scarlett
8. Chris
9. Scarlett
10. Scarlett
11. Chris
12. Scarlett

Epilogue
Lip Service
Full Service
Copyright © 2017 by Penny Wylder
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a
book review.

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BOOKS BY PENNY WYLDER

Filthy Boss

Her Dad’s Friend

Rockstars F#*k Harder

The Virgin Intern

Her Dirty Professor

The Pool Boy

Get Me Off

Caught Together

Selling Out to the Billionaire

Falling for the Babysitter

Lip Service
Full Service
 1

SCARLETT

I make my way down the cold New York street, coffee tray in hand.
It wobbled a bit, and for the life of me, I’ve never understood why
they can’t make these little cardboard things sturdier. But it doesn’t
matter. Even if the coffee is wobbly and I’m freezing my ass off and
I’m terrified of my heel going through a subway grate, today is going
to be a good day. Today has to be a good day.
After years of doing nothing but making copies and getting
coffee and being asked to come up with marketing ideas that were
completely ignored, I’ve been promoted. Though I should probably
use the term promoted loosely—more like a stroke of good luck. The
promotion came with a late-night phone call and a red-eye flight
from Seattle after the three people ahead of me in line got food
poisoning from bad shrimp at the New Year’s party and were too sick
to fly. My hatred of seafood has never felt more justified than it does
today.
Anyway, I’ve got the job now. I can finally put marketing
associate on my resume, and not just ‘assistant to the marketing
director.’ Not to mention that I get to work with Chris Flintlock, which
is a dream come true. The man is as brilliant as he is handsome, and
he is really fucking hot. He came to Ellison media a couple of years
ago when it was basically a sinking ship, and his new ideas, new
ways of attracting clients, new methods of thinking about marketing,
turned everything around. He saved everyone’s jobs—including
mine. Now we have a few huge clients, and are searching for more.
That’s why I’m in New York fighting icy winds. Ellison has
meetings with the sex toy company The Pleasure Chest. A small
boutique chain of stores, they have the potential to explode. Chris
needs another set of hands in these meetings. That’s why I’m here.
I’m meeting Chris downtown at an office building. He’s just had a
meeting with one of our existing clients to touch base and see how
they’re feeling about everything, and they agreed to wait for me
there. My small rolling suitcase gets stuck for a moment, and I
nearly fall. I manage to keep the coffee from spilling—just barely.
Bringing Chris coffee isn’t in my job description, but I figure after a
day of meetings with the most important one still to go, he’ll
appreciate the caffeine boost. I wasn’t actually supposed to have to
walk this far, but I got the address wrong. I think I’m just around the
corner from where I’m supposed to be, but even this short amount
of time in the wind has me freezing. Being from Seattle, I thought
I’d prepared well enough. Guess not. I imagine this would be easier
if it weren’t the middle of winter when it gets dark before the work
day ends. It’s barely eight o’clock and it feels like midnight.
The building itself is nondescript, just a tall building surrounded
by other tall buildings. The lobby is beautiful, with polished marble
floors and a large security desk—though the guard doesn’t look
twice as I walk past him to the elevators. I look at the building map
and press the up button, heading up to the fifth floor and Colson
Foods. The lobby is clean and corporate, and I park my suitcase by
one of the chairs, and take off my coat. The receptionist gives me a
funny look, but I try to give her my best smile. “I’m Scarlett Brown,
my colleague Chris Flintlock is here for a meeting?”
The receptionist’s face turns into a dazzled smile. “You’re here
with Chris? He’s straight back in the main conference room. You
can’t miss it—you’ll see him through the glass walls.”
“Thanks,” I say, retrieving the papers I need to take in to Chris,
and the coffee tray. I try not to smirk as I walk past the girl,
imagining the kind of flirting she was subjected to. Chris is a
notorious flirt, but as far as being a playboy, I’ve heard nothing. I
think the flirting gets him what he wants. As far as that receptionist
goes, she’ll give him whatever he wants.
This hallway is longer than I thought, but the girl was right, I do
see him. He’s sitting alone in the conference room, papers spread
out in front of him. I take the moment to look at him. He never fails
to be gorgeous—blond hair just long enough to sweep into his eyes,
and a suit that accentuates every inch of his frame. I know from
seeing him in the office that he clears six feet easily, and no suit
hides the fact that he’s cut like a diamond—though I can’t figure out
how he possibly has time to go to the gym when he’s constantly
flying across the country. If I had to eat that much airport food I
would be the size of Charlie Brown’s magic pumpkin.
Anyone who works in the Seattle office will tell you that
whenever Chris comes in it’s a good day, mostly because getting to
look at him would make just about anyone happy. That might be
shallow, but what Chris doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
I head towards the door of the conference room, not wanting to
just lurk outside until he notices me staring like a stalker. I push the
door open, and Chris looks up. I see his reaction almost before I
realize what’s happening. There’s a step up into the room that I
didn’t notice. My heel has caught the step, and I already know that
there’s no saving me from this fall.
Suddenly I’m on the floor and looking at the ceiling. I feel spots
of wetness as drops of coffee sink into my shirt, and I hear fluttering
as the last of the papers I was holding settle. Then it’s entirely silent.
In the corner of my eye I can see Chris’s reflection in the glass, his
mouth hanging open in shock.
“Wow,” I say.
My voice seems to spur him into action, suddenly jumping up and
making his way around the table to me. “Are you all right?” he asks,
concern flowing through his voice. I sit up, fighting the dizziness I
feel. It only lasts for a second though, and then I’m face to face with
Chris as he leans down to help me up. He puts his arm around my
waist and practically lifts me into a chair. Then he’s even closer to
my face, looking in my eyes. His eyes are bluer than I thought,
crystal clear and gorgeous. I’ve never been this close to him, and
the close up is just as good as the wide shot. He leans down, circling
my ankle with his hand. “That looked nasty. Does this hurt? I want
to make sure you didn’t sprain anything.”
I don’t know if it’s the fact that I just fell and have adrenaline
racing through my body at the speed of a freight train, or the fact
that I’ve always had a little bit of a crush on him, but the sight of
Christopher Flintlock kneeling in front of me sends fireworks
shooting through my brain. I can think of a hundred different ways
for this scene to continue, almost all of them ending with us naked
and me screaming his name.
His hands move from one ankle to the other, gently rotating.
“Any pain?”
I shake my head. If anything, his hands on me makes me feel
better than I’ve felt in a long time. Chris looks up at me and gives
me a small smile. “I know who you are, you know,” he says.
My eyebrows shoot into my hair. “You do?”
“I’ve noticed you in the office. It always seems like you’re
running around the office doing something or other. Most of the time
I don’t notice assistants. I always noticed you.”
“Really?” I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry.
“Really,” he says, his hand drawing up the back of my leg, “I’m
glad you’re the one they sent, it’ll be nice to take this few days to…
get to know each other better. What do you think?”
My heart is beating so fast, he can probably hear it. “I think I’d
like that,” I say. “I’d like it even better if we started now.”
Chris raises an eyebrow, sliding his hand up my leg, inching it up
beneath my skirt. His fingers reach my panties, and he leans closer
to me, lowering his voice. “Normally, I wouldn’t do this with a
colleague. And normally I wouldn’t go this fast. But I just can’t help
myself.” He slides his fingers through my folds, feeling how wet his
words have made me, and I feel the brush of his lips on mine. He
slides a finger into me, and I’m in heaven, tremors of pleasure
skating outward along my nerves.
“Hello?” I open my eyes to Chris’s concerned eyes looking into
mine. “You okay? You zoned out for a second there.”
 Blood rushes to my face as I realize I more than just zoned out, I
started to fantasize about Chris fingering me right here in the middle
of this very visible conference room. Holy shit. “I’m okay,” I say.
“Just a little dizzy for a second.”
“Well,” he says as he stands, holding out his hand to me, “your
ankles seem okay. Did you hit your head?”
“No, I don’t think so.” I twist and stretch, seeing if everything
feels fine, and it does. “I’m really sorry about that, Mr. Flintlock, I
didn’t realize there was a step up.”
Chris freezes, his eyes suddenly narrowing. “How do you know
my name?”
Apparently him knowing who I am only extends as far as my
fantasies. I straighten my spine, put on my best winning smile, and
hold out my hand. “My name is Scarlett Brown. I’m your marketing
associate for the trip. I just got in, came straight from the airport.”
He doesn’t take my hand. Instead, his face falls, his eyes go dark
and cold, and I suddenly feel like the temperature in the room
dropped ten degrees. He walks away from me back to the head of
the table, picking up his cellphone. He dials it without looking at me,
and I can practically see him vibrating with angry energy. I look
around at the mess I made in my fall, coffee and paper are strewn
everywhere.
I start picking up the stack of papers, better than waiting for
Chris to look at me again.
“Maureen,” his voice rings through the room, and I freeze. “Chris
Flintlock.”
Maureen is the name of my boss—the woman who just put me
on the red-eye here.
He continues, and my stomach continues to drop. “I need you to
send someone else to New York.” A pause, “No, that’s not going to
work.”
I gather up the rest of the papers, setting them on the table. I
pick up and throw away the spilled coffee cups, thanking whatever
lucky stars I have left that the carpet is black and that this won’t
leave a stain. “I don’t care what you do with her. Bring her back to
Seattle, fire her, send her to the moon, that’s not my concern. I need
someone who can get the job done.”
Rage burns through me, and I turn around marching towards
him. “Now wait just a minute—”
Chris holds up a hand to me, listening to whatever Maureen is
saying on the end of the line. I grit my teeth at the indignity of being
cut off like that. Whatever it is he’s hearing, he’s not enjoying it.
“Fine,” he says, his voice practically a growl. “But we will have a
conversation about this when I get back to Seattle.” He cuts off the
phone call, tossing his phone onto the table. “Looks like we’re stuck
with each other. Maureen can’t send anyone else in time.”
I paste on a sickly smile. “Despite that unfortunate spill, I
actually am good at my job.”
His eyes drag up and down my body, catching right at my
breasts. I look down to see that my shirt has come unbuttoned in
the fall, giving Chris a view of way too much cleavage. I pull my shirt
together quickly, covering myself. He finishes his perusal of me,
glancing to where I’ve picked up the papers and coffee. “What I see
right now is that you’re sloppy. I hate sloppy.”
The words are like a slap in the face. If he knew any of my work
at the office in Seattle, he wouldn’t say I was sloppy. But you know
what, it doesn’t matter. Even if Christopher Flintlock is a total
bastard wrapped in a delicious package, I’m going to do my best.
I’m going to knock his socks off and succeed. By the time we get
back to Seattle and he has to have that conversation with Maureen
he’ll be singing my praises enough that I’ll get another promotion.
“By the time we’re finished here you’ll change your mind about me,”
I say, trying to project smooth and utter confidence.
“I’m not holding my breath,” he says, gathering his things
together. “Come on, let’s go back to the hotel.”
I follow him, but not before making a face at his back as he exits
the room.
 2

CHRIS

“What do you mean there is no reservation?” I ask the woman at the

front desk, desperately trying to keep my cool. “This reservation
should have been made a week ago along with mine.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Flintlock,” she says. “There were two reservations
here. But when you weren’t accompanied by any colleagues you
were upgraded to a suite and the other room was dropped.”
The anger feels like ice in my veins. “Why on earth would
someone on your staff do that?”
“I don’t know,” the woman winces. She knows they made a
mistake.
“Can we please get an extra room now? We’re short on time.”
The look on her face is painful now. “That’s the thing. We don’t
have any.”
“What do you mean you don’t have any?”
“There’s a conference at the hotel, and we’re entirely booked up.”
The anger spreads to my gut, churning. I hate it when things
don’t go according to plan, and there have already been too many
things toady that haven’t gone according to plan. “A conference?”
“Yes sir.” She taps a sign that’s on the front desk. “We’re hosting
the annual ADA conference for dental hygienists here in the hotel.
Every room we have is booked for the next three days.”
I glance at the sign. It features a dancing tooth, saying ‘The
American Dental Association welcomes you!’ I pinch the bridge of my
nose between my fingers. Of course I’m getting screwed—or should
I say drilled—by a bunch of dental hygienists. She’s going to have to
stay in my suite. This is the last thing I need right now.
“Fine,” I say to her, barely managing to keep the word civil. I turn
away from her before she can tell me she’s sorry. Scarlett is waiting
for me a few feet away, watching calmly. I can’t read what she’s
feeling, her face is relaxed hearing the news. Coffee is sprinkled on
her shirt and I have a hard time keeping my eyes away—especially
now that I’ve seen a peek of what lies beneath. “There was a
mistake with the reservation,” I say. “There aren’t any rooms.”
She tries to cover it up, but I see the momentary panic that
comes into her face. That look on her face unsettles me, and I hurry
to assure her. “I have a suite. It has an extra bedroom. You can stay
there.”
Her body visibly relaxes, and the fact that she’s not worried
makes me feel better than it should. I shouldn’t care at all. She’s a
mess, and she should be back on a plane to Seattle right now.
Instead she’s going to be sleeping just a few feet away from me.
This is so not what I need.
“Thanks,” she says, as I start walking towards the elevators.
“No problem.”
When I saw her walk in through the door of that conference
room, I wasn’t sure what to think. I knew that I hadn’t expected
someone like her to walk through the door. I got a picture of blonde
curls and curves that would drive any man crazy. My dick jumped
straight to attention, and it shocked the hell out of me. Then she
fell, and something in my gut pulled, and I had to make sure she
was okay. I found myself drawn to her, making her comfortable,
making sure nothing hurt. It’s been awhile since I’ve felt that kind of
immediate attraction to someone. And since I’m not at home, I
figured it wouldn’t be a problem.
But I don’t ever mix business with pleasure. Business is business.
It needs to run like clockwork, no mistakes, no hesitation. When you
mix in personal relationships with your business, things get
complicated. Messy. Sloppy. Like I already said once today, I hate
sloppy.
 I don’t have any doubt that I can control myself, but I’m still
hesitant about having her here. The Pleasure Chest deal is
important. We need the kind of partnership they can provide—
enough capital to help us with expanding our operation, and getting
in on a brand that itself is ripe for expansion. Nothing can go wrong
with this, and I can’t have someone falling into the room on these
meetings. And I certainly can’t be worried about being distracted by
her.
The elevator opens on the sixteenth floor, and I listen to the
sound of her small suitcase rolling on the carpet. I open the door to
my room—our room— and let her inside. It’s a suite, but not a big
one. A tiny kitchen flows into a small sitting area that’s next to my
bed. Through an archway is the second bedroom—her room, and
there’s one bathroom. As she passes by me, I get a hint of perfume,
something warm and sugary. The scent draws my eyes to her, and I
watch as she takes in the room, watch the way her ass fills out the
skirt.
I feel my blood start to flow downward and I quickly lock those
thoughts down. Whatever plans my dick has for while she’s here
need to stay far, far away. She’s a co-worker. That’s beyond
unprofessional. No one said that would be easy, though.
I clear my throat, crossing the room and picking up one of the
extra room keys the front desk gave me. “Here. Room key.” I point
through the archway. “The extra room is in there.”
“Thanks.”
I can’t help watching her walk, the way her hips move. What on
earth is wrong with me? She’s gorgeous, for sure, but I don’t need
to be watching her every move. And despite what she says, I don’t
think I’m going to change my mind about her ability to do her job. I
need to get some stress out, and I can’t do that in this room. I grab
my small gym bag from my suitcase and lean my head into her
room, where she’s opening her suitcase. “I’m going to the gym,” I
say. “Our meeting tomorrow is at nine. Please be ready by eight.”
She nods. “Sounds good.”
I force myself not to look back as I leave. The gym in this hotel is
very good. It’s one of the reasons I make Ellison put me up here
whenever I come to New York. I suppose things could be worse
right now. The hotel could have a conference full of body builders
that would crowd the gym to capacity. As it is, it’s practically empty.
I guess dental hygienists are less interested. I change my clothes
and hop onto a treadmill, pushing my speed until I’m going my limit.
I pour all of my frustration from the day into the pounding of my
feet. The lukewarm meeting at Colson Foods, the incompetent hotel
staff, Ellison sending me inadequate help, and my own traitorous
body. I make every one of them pay in the miles I sprint out.
There’s no better cure for frustration than pure and
unadulterated exhaustion, and I make sure I achieve that. By the
time I’m finished, I’m covered in sweat, my clothes soaked through.
I’m panting for breath, having pushed myself far beyond my normal
boundaries. I can feel a twinge in my back and thighs, and I know
that I probably overdid it, but right now, I don’t care. I feel better
than I have all day. Except for one thing—Scarlett.
Every time I think about her my body jumps into action like a
damn teenager. Go figure: the one time I feel this level of attraction
it’s to a woman I absolutely cannot fuck. I slip into the room, and I
don’t hear any sound. Looking at the clock on the microwave, it’s
later than I thought. I was at the gym for a little over two hours. On
the way to the bathroom, I glance into Scarlett’s room even though I
know I shouldn’t. It’s entirely dark, and all I see is a lump of
blankets.
I shut myself into the bathroom, my dick rising to attention as
my brain wonders what she’s wearing under those blankets. Is it as
delicious as the black lace bra she had on today? Turning on the
shower, I stop trying to fight the hard-on that’s been trying to show
itself since she stepped into that room. I let it come, let my mind go
where it wants to. I imagine that she’s not a coworker. That I helped
her up from her fall and asked her out, that I took her to dinner and
brought her back to this room where I peeled her out of her clothes
one piece at a time.
I take myself in my hand as the scene plays out in my mind, that
sexy as fuck black bra the only piece of clothing left on her as I
worship her body. I would have made her body sing with my tongue
and my fingers, making her moan loud enough for those prudish
dental hygienists to here. And by the time I’d finished with her, she’d
be begging me to fuck her. And fuck her I would.
My hand moves faster on my cock as I imagine slipping into her
sweet heat, plunging all the way in and not stopping. Fucking her
until the bed is rattling and we’re both blind and speechless with
pleasure. I grit my teeth, containing my groan as I come, spilling
myself down the drain of the shower. The relief of pleasure shudders
through me, and I lean against the wall of the shower, letting it take
me. The feeling fades, the warmth of the water reminding me that
I’m wasting water. But I feel so much better. More settled. Orgasms
and exercise will cure just about any problem you have.
But I don’t have a problem. This isn’t a problem. I just took care
of it. Now, tomorrow will be easy. If she doesn’t trip over herself
again, we’ll be on our way back to Seattle in no time.
 3

SCARLETT

Well, now I know how he has time to go to the gym. Last night he
was gone for way longer than I thought he would be. I know that he
thought I was asleep when he came back to the room, but I wasn’t.
I didn’t want to deal with the awkwardness of it.
Plus, going to bed allowed me to finish that fantasy that started
in the conference room. Yeah, he’s a bastard, but he’s still a hot
bastard and I have no doubt that he knows his way around the
bedroom. I almost had to go again when he came out of the
bathroom in nothing but a towel. I could stare at his body for days,
exploring every beautiful inch. But clearly my fantasies are just that.
Fantasies. He doesn’t want me here.
And even if he did want me like that, we couldn’t. Office
romances are hard enough as it is. Getting involved with someone as
important and visible as Chris? Yeah, that would be bad news for
me. Probably worse than if he just got me fired.
He’s still sleeping as I creep to the bathroom for my shower—and
I know he actually is sleeping. His breathing is too deep for him to
be awake. I can see the smooth planes of his back in the semi-
darkness, rising and falling. My glimpse last night and my glimpse
right now are probably the closest I’m ever going to get to seeing
him naked. That’s fine. But I take an extra minute to memorize this
image so I can bring it back with clarity.
 My shower is quick and by the time I slip back into my room, I
hear him stirring. There are the sounds of coffee and the rustling of
clothing. I washed my coffee shirt and bra yesterday, draping them
over the heater to dry. Luckily it looks like I was able to get most of
the evidence out, and luckier for me I packed multiple backup
outfits. Today’s bra is one of my favorites—maroon and silky, it’s
comfortable and sexy. Even though I know no one will see it, I still
love the way it feels to wear it.
I slip on a pencil skirt and my shoes, and then head to the mirror
for make-up. My shirt today is a sleeveless button-down. It’s a navy
blue that complements my skin, with a collar and neckline that make
it cute rather than boring office wear. But because of the dark color,
I really don’t want make-up on it. I don’t want Chris to accuse me of
being sloppy again if there’s powder stains on my blouse.
I have my make-up routine down pat, and it doesn’t take me
long. I’m putting on my finishing touches when I hear Chris’s voice.
“Scarlett, would you like some coffee? It’s almost done—”
His voice cuts off, and I suddenly realize why. Chris has stepped
through the archway into my room, and is now staring at me. I have
no shirt on, just my maroon bra. His face goes red, and he opens his
mouth only to shut it again. His eyes rake over me, and I can feel
the heat in them. It stirs the heat in my own body, and I feel a
warming between my legs. I know I should be embarrassed by this,
but the way he’s looking at me right now—a mix of lust, hunger, and
embarrassment—I’m not.
“I’m so sorry,” he says, suddenly turning.
I try to keep my voice calm, though my body is suddenly shaking
with the shock of adrenaline. “I’m almost ready,” I say. “I’ll be out in
just a minute.”
“Coffee?” he asks, his back still turned to me.
“Yeah that would be great.”
I pick up my shirt from where I’ve laid it over the back of a chair,
and tug it on, smoothing the buttons together. Well, I guess I was
wrong about nobody seeing my bra today. I can’t help but give
myself a little smirk in the mirror. Even if nothing happens, at least I
have the satisfaction of knowing that my body does to him what his
does to me. There’s a great satisfaction in that.
I gather my things: coat, bag, folders, and there’s a cup of coffee
waiting for me on the counter when I step out of the room. Chris
still seems flustered, which both unnerves me and makes me smile,
because in all the time that Christopher Flintlock has worked for
Ellison Media, I’ve never seen him get flustered. Not once.
“I really am sorry,” he says. “I should have knocked—announced
myself. I shouldn’t have barged it.” His face is red and he’s fidgety.
I take a sip of my coffee, pretty good for hotel coffee. “It’s fine,”
I say, giving him a smile and a shrug. “Things happen, right?”
“Right,” he says. “Ready to go?”
I nod, putting on my coat. I give one more glance around the
hotel room to make sure there isn’t anything else I need to take to
the meeting, and I pick up a folder I forgot on the counter. That
should be it. “Lead the way,” I say, and follow him out the door.

The New York offices of The Pleasure Chest aren’t downtown.

Instead, the cab carries us north and east to a neighborhood that’s
more residential than business. This is the kind of area everyone
thinks of when they think of New York. Beautiful architecture that
probably costs more than a fortune, quiet bakeries and coffee shops,
and beautiful women walking small dogs in outfits straight off of
Project Runway. The building we stop at is clearly older, and though
it’s a residential building, there’s a corporate directory in the lobby.
The elevator brings Chris and me to the sixth floor, where several
doors branch off from a main hallway. We find the one that says
‘The Pleasure Chest’ in its distinct font, and ring the bell.
We’re greeted by a man in a suit who smiles warmly at us.
“Flintlock!” he says. “Great to see you. Come on in.”
“Thanks,” Chris says, and ushers me inside.
As soon as we’re inside and the door is closed, the man turns to
me. “I’m Jason Childs, marketing director for The Pleasure Chest.
And you are?”
“This is my associate, Scarlett Brown,” Chris cuts in. “She flew in
to help me with the meetings.”
Jason gives me an amused look. “Scarlett Brown?”
“I’ve heard it all before,” I say, “and believe me, it had nothing to
do with colors.”
“Oh?” Jason says, and I feel Chris looking at me as well.
“My mother is a huge Gone with the Wind fan. She had the name
picked out long before she met my father, and she wasn’t going to
let a little thing like a last name get in the way.”
Jason nods. “So you became color girl.”
“It seems that way,” I say, doing my best not to roll my eyes.
This always happens when people meet me.
“Well,” he says, “the others are through here.”
He leads us through the posh apartment that has been converted
to a lovely office space, but still somehow retains the charm of the
original building with great details and moldings. The room Jason
leads us into is bright and warm, with a nice view of the street. It’s
started snowing softly outside, and I inwardly groan for my high
heels when we have to leave. Thank god we’re taking cabs
everywhere.
There’s another man and a woman in the room, though Jason
introduced them when I was noticing the snow and even though I’m
shaking their hands I have no idea what their names are. This is
what Chris doesn’t want. I need to pay better attention, not get
sidetracked by snow. “So, how is everyone today?” Chris asks.
There are responses of assent all around. “If it’s all right with
you, I thought today’s meeting would be more business oriented,
market share and what you guys are looking for in terms of input
versus output. Then during tomorrow’s meeting, we’ll go over the
preliminary ideas that we have for your campaign. I hope that by
tomorrow Ellison Media is the only company whose offer you’ll want
to accept.”
Jason gives us a smile. “Well, I for one am hoping that I love
what I see. Shall we get started?”
 “Absolutely,” Chris says, “I’ve drawn up a budget for a year long
campaign, focusing on all the major US cities, aiming for a five to
ten percent increase in total revenue by the end of the year.” He
opens up his briefcase, and I see the flare of panic in his eyes when
he doesn’t see what he’s looking for.
Suddenly remembering I picked an extra folder off the counter
thinking it was mine, I pull it open, and see the graphs and charts of
a budget. I pull the folder from my stack and hand it to Chris. He
glances at me, and I see the barest hint of relief before he gives me
a professional smile as he takes a notebook and pen from his
briefcase and closes it. He takes the folder from me. “Thank you,
Scarlett.”
He opens the folder and gives me the extra copies, which I walk
to the other side of the table and give to Jason and the others. Then
Chris is off talking about the budget, and I’m along for the ride.
 4

SCARLETT

Two hours later, the meeting is wrapping up, and it’s not going well.
Everything Chris has said is solid, but The Pleasure Chest team
doesn’t seem to be responding to it. They’ve been very stoic, asking
the bare minimum of questions, and even Jason—who seemed jovial
and outgoing, has seemed almost bored while Chris has outlined his
plan of attack for media saturation across the company. I think it a
really good plan. Sure, it’s not the most interesting topic, but we’ll
get to the fun stuff tomorrow. I’m not sure what’s making them so
hesitant and hostile. I hope this reaction doesn’t mean we have no
chance to land their business.
I’ve tried to assist Chris as best I can, supplying him with extra
numbers from the material Maureen sent with me, taking notes
about the questions and concerns, and always giving him a positive
face when he hasn’t had any from across the table. Chris draws my
attention back to him. “I think that’s all I have for today. Tomorrow
we’ll have art samples for you, and you’ll get a better taste of the
fun style we’re going for with this campaign.”
I swear I see the three of them relax a little. “Thank you,” Jason
says. “That was very informative. We’re scheduled for the same time
tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Chris says. “I look forward to it.”
They shake hands, and the mood in the room seems thick and
tense. Chris attempts a smile. “You wouldn’t mind pointing me
towards the bathroom before we get out of your hair?”
“Down that hall, to the left,” Jason says.
Chris disappears, and I gather up the papers he left on the table,
shuffling them into the folder and into his briefcase. There’s
whispering at the other end of the table, and they clearly don’t mean
for me to hear, but I do. It’s the woman speaking. “It seems like
he’d benefit more from using some of our toys instead of selling
them. He’s got some sort of stick up his ass.”
I’m careful to remain interested in the papers in front of me as
Jason responds. “The conversations I’ve had with him have been
way less tense and uptight.”
“Well, they’d better have one hell of a marketing plan to
overcome that. If we’re going to work closely with him, he has to
understand the vibe of the company. That’s not it.”
Chris comes back into the room, and I hand him his briefcase.
“Thanks,” he says, taking it from me. We say one more round of
goodbyes, and bundle up into our coats. There’s a small amount of
snow falling onto our heads while we call a cab.
“That went well,” Chris mutters, and I can tell from his voice that
he’s not expecting me to respond. His face is dark, and he’s
retreating inward, probably reliving the last twenty minutes of
awkward agony. He addresses our cab driver in a curt voice,
ordering him back to the hotel. I decide to at least try to engage him
in conversation. “Do you know where dinner is tonight?” I ask.
He shrugs. “The Colson rep decided. It’s in my phone. They’ll
send a car at seven.”
There’s finality in his words, and I back off. I already have to be
in close quarters with him for the rest of the trip, I don’t want to
make it worse. The car ride is painfully silent, and he stalks up to the
room like an angry bear, all quiet energy and barely contained rage.
He tosses his coat onto his bed and heads straight for the wet bar.
This brooding silence suits him. I must be crazy for finding him even
more attractive like this, but seeing him vibrating with contained
strength, makes me wonder what it would be like for him to choose
to unleash it. To take control of whatever is in front of him and bend
it to his will. I shudder, flashes of carnal commands and his hands on
me race through my mind.
I head into my room, shedding my coat and my shoes. I hear
him sink onto the couch, glass rattling with ice cubes. I turn my TV
on low, prepared to wait out his storm. But as an hour passes, and
then two, and three, I get tired of waiting. Sighing, I turn off the
television from the self-help reality show I was barely absorbing, and
I head into the main room. I lean against the doorway. Chris is
sunken into the couch, his glass empty, his face dark.
“How many of those have you had?” I ask.
“Just the one,” he says. “I needed to take the edge off.”
I nod. “Then tell me what’s going through your head. Because if
you don’t I think you’re going to explode and take the entire hotel
with you.”
His glare strays to me for just a moment, and I meet him stare
for stare. He maybe intimidating and sexy as hell, but I told him I
was going to be helpful, and this is the way I’m going to do it. I’m
going to get him out of his head so he can actually focus. He sighs.
“I just don’t know what I did wrong. I’ve had half a dozen phone
calls with Jason Childs, and they all went well. They went
fantastically. But none of that came across in the meeting today. I
expected them to be happy, to be impressed. But they seemed like
they were barely invested. I’ve spent a lot of time on this proposal,
and I don’t want it to fall apart. Especially if I don’t know why it’s
falling apart.” He sighs again, reaching out to put his empty glass on
the coffee table.
I weigh my options. I can sympathize with him and tell him it’s
going to be okay. Or, I can tell him the truth that he doesn’t want to
hear—that I wasn’t supposed to hear. I look at him, his hair messed
up just enough to make him look like he rolled out of bed, his entire
being dissolved enough to look out of control. It makes me think of
the ways I would have rather he gotten that way, and I have to
shake my head to get the images of us rolling together, sweating
and panting out of my head. “I know what went wrong,” I say, even
though I’m not sure it’s the right thing to do.
 His head snaps up to look at me, but I keep going. “I’m not
supposed to know, but they didn’t whisper quietly enough when you
stepped out of the room.”
Chris stares at me, waiting, but I’m still on the fence about how
to say it. “Well?” he demands.
“They think you have a stick up your ass,” I say, opting for the
blunt delivery. “They think that you’re too tense, and because of that
you don’t understand the vibe of the company.” He leans back,
scrubbing his hands over his face, and I continue. “They’re not
wrong,” I say. “You need to blow off some steam. You need to relax.
You’ve been tighter than a drum since I got here, and maybe if you
just chilled a little bit, you’d be more likable.”
I bite my lip, not intending to go that far, but he huffs a laugh.
“You want to help me blow off some steam?”
“Sure. However you want to blow it off,” I shrug.
His eyes suddenly focus on me, sharp and searching. “Is that an
innuendo?”
My mouth falls open at what he’s suggesting, and I close it
quickly because as mortified as I am, my mouth is watering at the
thought. I blink. He didn’t really suggest that. I’ve gotten caught up
in my imagination again. This gorgeous man in front of me isn’t
actually suggesting that I put my mouth on him. His voice is rough.
“If you want to help out so badly,” he says, “I’ve tried everything
else.”
Heat shoots through me straight to my core, and I already know
that there’s nothing I want more than to let this man do whatever he
wants to me, but there are other things to consider. This is my job.
What happens when we go back to Seattle if we do this? I take a
step forward and stop myself, suddenly seeing what I missed before
—Chris is hard. His pants do nothing to hide that fact, and he’s hard
because of me.
Shit. Maybe I’m not actually imagining this.
 5

CHRIS

I’m not drunk. Not even close. But I still can’t believe what I just
suggested. I must be utterly and totally out of my mind. I’m not sure
what it is about Scarlett that gets under my skin, but seeing her
stand in the doorway, hair messily pinned back with a pen, feet only
in stockings…
I’ve totally lost control. I can’t stop thinking about this morning
when I walked in on her dressing. It wasn’t even that revealing, but
now the memory of her skin is taunting me, and I keep imagining
what it would look like under my hands, under my body. And damn it
all to hell, she was right. She was more helpful than I thought she
would be in that meeting. She saved me from looking like an ass by
forgetting that budget folder, and she seamlessly filled in the gaps
when I stumbled.
I look at her now, and she looks like walking sin to me, those
conservative office clothes hiding what I know now is a body that
could wake a dead man. I’ve been half-hard since she walked in the
door yesterday, and even last night in the shower hadn’t been
enough to take care of my desire. I’m fully hard now, and she can
see it. The words were out of my mouth before I could even think to
stop myself, but in this moment, I’ve never wanted anything as
badly as I want to see those sweet berry lips wrapped around my
cock.
 I’ll show those corporate pricks at The Pleasure Chest just how
much a stick is up my ass. I know how to let loose. I know how to
be wild.
There’s a twinge inside as I recognize the lie I tell myself, but
fuck it. Enough is enough. Scarlett just issued me a challenge, that
I’m too tense to be likable, and if she’s willing to do this, I’m not
going to stop it. Fuck, I’m going to make sure I enjoy every second
of it.
“You’re serious?” she asks.
“Are you?” I stare back at her, daring her to back down, daring
her to take back the things she said about me being too up tight. I
see her eyes go dark and I wonder what she’s thinking. Her gaze
drifts to my more than obvious erection, and I see her tongue dart
out to touch her lips. She looks hesitant, but I see her chest rising
and falling quickly. She wants this too. I let my imagination drift to
what could happen. Anything could happen—we have this suite to
ourselves and two large beds at our disposal.
Scarlett walks over to me steadily, and she looks down at me.
Her hands are flexing with nerves, and I find myself tingling with
nerves of my own. “This is a terrible idea,” she says.
I nod, totally agreeing. “This is probably the worst idea either of
us have ever had.”
She sinks to her knees in front of me, and that sight sends all the
blood in my body straight to my cock. It hardens to the point of
pain, and I hiss out a breath. I can’t help myself. She looks up at
me, and I notice that her eyes aren’t blue like I thought. They’re
more gray, like stormy weather, but right now there’s so much heat
in them they feel like a tropical storm.
She reaches for my belt, and I find that I can’t move. This isn’t
happening. I’m not going to let her do this, am I? But even through
the fabric of my pants her hands feel so good on me. It’s been way
too long since I felt this way, since I’ve had any kind of pleasure like
this. All too long since—
I shove the thought away and watch as Scarlett unzips my pants.
My cock is straining through the cloth of my underwear, and it
springs free as she pulls them away. She gasps, and it gives me a
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 Hart, Republican 385,514
McGrann, Democrat 340,269
Irish, Prohibitionist 18,471
Kennedy, Greenback 8,900

Total 753,154

An important feature of the year was the interest shown in the

question of prohibiting the manufacture and sale of intoxicating
liquors. Four States have voted on this issue, Michigan leading off in
April, Texas voting in August, Tennessee in September, and Oregon
in November. Prohibition was defeated in each instance, but its
advocates succeeded in polling a surprisingly large vote. The poll in
these States was as follows:

For Pro. Against Pro.

Michigan 178,488 184,429
Texas 129,273 221,627
Tennessee 117,504 145,197
Oregon 19,973 27,958

Totals 445,238 579,211

Majority against prohibition 133,973

To this should be added the defeat of prohibition in Atlanta and

Fulton counties, Ga., by 1122 majority, where it had won two years
before by 228 majority. The interest shown in local option and high
license as a solution of the temperance question, and its popularity
wherever adopted, is also a marked feature of the year’s politics. In
Michigan local option succeeded the failure of prohibition, while in
Pennsylvania the people are promised a choice between high license
and prohibition.
The elections of 1887 as a whole, without removing doubts as to
the future, were generally accepted as favorable to the Republicans.
The following is a fair comparison with Rhode Island omitted, for the
plain reason that her spring result was reversed in the fall:
 1883. 1887.
Rep. Dem. Rep. Dem.
Mass 160,092 150,228 136,000 118,394
New York 429,757 445,976 452,435 469,886
New Jersey 97,047 103,856 107,026 104,407
Penna 319,106 302,031 385,514 340,269
Maryland 80,707 92,694 86,644 98,936
Ohio 347,164 359,793 356,937 333,205
Kentucky 89,181 133,615 126,476 143,270
Iowa 164,182 139,093 168,696 152,886
Nebraska 56,381 41,998 86,725 56,548
Virginia 144,419 124,080 119,380 119,806
Totals 1,888,036 1,893,364 2,025,833 1,937,607

Democratic majority in 1883 5,328

Republican majority in 1887 88,226
Gain in the Dem. vote in four years 44,243
Gain in the Rep. vote in four years 137,797

The vote in Rhode Island would probably reduce the Republican

gain of the year about 5000. But as the figures for Virginia are
disputed and not the official vote, which it is known would add
several thousand to the Republican total, the above result can be
taken as a just estimate of the gain made by the Republicans in these
eleven states, where general elections were held. It would be at least
25,000 larger if the vote of the highest candidate, instead of the head
of the ticket, were taken.
 OPENING OF THE CAMPAIGN OF 1888.

The fiftieth Congress convened in December, 1887, the Senate

consisting of 38 Republicans, 37 Democrats, and 1 Readjuster, Mr.
Riddleberger, of Virginia. In the House there were 168 Democrats,
153 Republicans, and 4 Independents—Anderson, of Iowa and
Hopkins, of Virginia, classed with the Democrats, and Smith of
Wisconsin and Nichols of North Carolina, classed with the
Republicans upon tariff and educational subjects—two questions
which in the form of Revenue measures and of the Blair educational
bill, gave early promise of becoming the issues for the campaign of
1888.
Upon the assembling of the fiftieth Congress President Cleveland,
instead of sending the usual message describing the condition of the
Nation and its relations with foreign nations, together with such
recommendations as he desired to make, sent simply a message upon
questions of revenue, and in this way gave the subject such emphasis
as to make his views the issue in the campaign to follow. The
message excited wide and varied political comment, and when Mr.
Blaine, who at the time was in Paris, permitted an answer to be wired
to the New York Tribune, the two opposing views seemed to meet the
wishes of the two great opposing parties, and they were at once
accepted as defining the tendencies of each party, at least, upon tariff
and revenue subjects.
As these two papers will prove the text for much of the discussion
incident to the campaign of 1888, we give below their text:
 President Cleveland’s Message.

To the Congress of the United States:

You are confronted at the threshold of your legislative duties with
a condition of the national finances which imperatively demands
immediate and careful consideration.
The amount of money annually exacted, through the operation of
the present laws, from the industries and necessities of the people,
largely exceeds the sum necessary to meet the expenses of the
government.
When we consider that the theory of our institutions guarantees to
every citizen the full enjoyment of all the fruits of his industry and
enterprise, with only such deduction as may be his share towards the
careful and economical maintenance of the government which
protects him, it is plain that the exaction of more than this is
indefensible extortion, and a culpable betrayal of American fairness
and justice. This wrong inflicted upon those who bear the burden of
national taxation, like other wrongs, multiplies a brood of evil
consequences. The public treasury, which should only exist as a
conduit conveying the people’s tribute to its legitimate objects of
expenditure, becomes a hoarding-place for money needlessly
withdrawn from trade and the people’s use, thus crippling our
national energies, suspending our country’s development, preventing
investment in productive enterprise, threatening financial
disturbance, and inviting schemes of public plunder.
This condition of our treasury is not altogether new; and it has
more than once of late been submitted to the people’s
representatives in the Congress, who alone can apply a remedy. And
yet the situation still continues, with aggravated incidents, more than
ever presaging financial convulsion and widespread disaster.
It will not do to neglect this situation because its dangers are not
now palpably imminent and apparent. They exist none the less
certainly, and await the unforeseen and unexpected occasion when
suddenly they will be precipitated upon us.
On the 30th day of June, 1885, the excess of revenues over public
expenditures after complying with the annual requirement of the
sinking fund act, was $17,859,735.84; during the year ended June
30, 1886, such excess amounted to $49,405,545.20; and during the
year ended June 30, 1887, it reached the sum of $55,567,849.54.
The annual contributions to the sinking fund during the three
years above specified, amounting in the aggregate to
$138,058,320.94, and deducted from the surplus as stated, were
made by calling in for that purpose outstanding three per cent. bonds
of the government. During the six months prior to June 30, 1887, the
surplus revenue had grown so large by repeated accumulations, and
it was feared the withdrawal of this great sum of money needed by
the people would so affect the business of the country that the sum of
$79,864,100 of such surplus was applied to the payment of the
principal and interest of the three per cent. bonds still outstanding,
and which were then payable at the option of the government. The
precarious condition of financial affairs among the people still
needing relief, immediately after the 30th day of June, 1887, the
remainder of the three per cent. bonds then outstanding, amounting
with principal and interest to the sum of $18,877,500, were called in
and applied to the sinking fund contribution for the current fiscal
year. Notwithstanding these operations of the Treasury Department,
representations of distress in business circles not only continued but
increased, and absolute peril seemed at hand. In these circumstances
the contribution to the sinking fund for the current fiscal year was at
once completed by the expenditure of $27,684,283.55 in the
purchase of government bonds not yet due bearing four and four and
a half per cent. interest, the premium paid thereon averaging about
twenty-four per cent. for the former and eight per cent. for the latter.
In addition to this, the interest accruing during the current year upon
the outstanding bonded indebtedness of the government was to
some extent anticipated, and banks selected as depositories of public
money were permitted to somewhat increase their deposits.
While the expedients thus employed, to release to the people the
money lying idle in the Treasury, served to avert immediate danger,
our surplus revenues have continued to accumulate, the excess for
the present year amounting on the 1st day of December to
$55,258,701.19, and estimated to reach the sum of $113,000,000 on
the 30th of June next, at which date it is expected that this sum,
added to prior accumulations, will swell the surplus in the Treasury
to $140,000,000.
There seems to be no assurance that, with such a withdrawal from
use of the people’s circulating medium, our business community may
not in the near future be subjected to the same distress which was
quite lately produced from the same cause. And while the functions
of our National Treasury should be few and simple, and while its best
condition would be reached, I believe, by its entire disconnection
with private business interests, yet when, by a perversion of its
purposes, it idly holds money uselessly subtracted from the channels
of trade, there seems to be reason for the claim that some legitimate
means should be devised by the government to restore in an
emergency, without waste or extravagance, such money to its place
among the people.
If such an emergency arises there now exists no clear and
undoubted executive power of relief. Heretofore the redemption of
three per cent. bonds, which were payable at the option of the
government, has afforded a means for the disbursement of the excess
of our revenues; but these bonds have been all retired, and there are
no bonds outstanding the payment of which we have the right to
insist upon. The contribution to the sinking fund which furnishes the
occasion for expenditure in the purchase of bonds has been already
made for the current year, so that there is no outlet in that direction.
In the present state of legislation the only pretence of any existing
executive power to restore, at this time, any part of our surplus
revenues to the people by its expenditure, consists in the supposition
that the Secretary of the Treasury may enter the market and
purchase the bonds of the government not yet due, at a rate of
premium to be agreed upon. The only provision of law from which
such a power could be derived is found in an appropriation bill
passed a number of years ago; and it is subject to the suspicion that it
was intended as temporary and limited in its application, instead of
conferring a continuing discretion and authority. No condition ought
to exist which would justify the grant of power to a single official,
upon his judgment of its necessity, to withhold from or release to the
business of the people, in an unusual manner, money held in the
Treasury, and thus affect, at his will, the financial situation of the
country; and if it is deemed wise to lodge in the Secretary of the
Treasury the authority in the present juncture to purchase bonds, it
should be plainly vested, and provided, as far as possible, with such
checks and limitations as will define this official’s right and
discretion, and at the same time relieve him from undue
responsibility.
In considering the question of purchasing bonds as a means of
restoring to circulation the surplus money accumulating in the
Treasury, it should be borne in mind that premiums must of course
be paid upon such purchase, that there may be a large part of these
bonds held as investments which cannot be purchased at any price,
and that combinations among holders who are willing to sell may
unreasonably enhance the cost of such bonds to the government.
It has been suggested that the present bonded debt might be
refunded at a less rate of interest, and the difference between the old
and new security paid in cash, thus finding use for the surplus in the
Treasury. The success of this plan, it is apparent, must depend upon
the volition of the holders of the present bonds; and it is not entirely
certain that the inducement which must be offered them would
result in more financial benefit to the Government than the purchase
of bonds, while the latter proposition would reduce the principal of
the debt by actual payment, instead of extending it.
The proposition to deposit the money held by the Government in
banks throughout the country, for use by the people, is, it seems to
me, exceedingly objectionable in principle, as establishing too close a
relationship between the operations of the Government Treasury and
the business of the country, and too extensive a commingling of their
money, thus fostering an unnatural reliance in private business upon
public funds. If this scheme should be adopted it should only be done
as a temporary expedient to meet an urgent necessity. Legislative
and executive effort should generally be in the opposite direction and
should have a tendency to divorce, as much and as fast as can safely
be done, the Treasury Department from private enterprise.
Of course it is not expected that unnecessary and extravagant
appropriations will be made for the purpose of avoiding the
accumulation of an excess of revenue. Such expenditure, beside the
demoralization of all just conceptions of public duty which it entails,
stimulates a habit of reckless improvidence not in the least
consistent with the mission of our people or the high and beneficent
purposes of our government.
I have deemed it my duty to thus bring to the knowledge of my
countrymen, as well as to the attention of their representatives
charged with the responsibility of legislative relief, the gravity of our
financial situation. The failure of the Congress heretofore to provide
against the dangers which it was quite evident the very nature of the
difficulty must necessarily produce, caused a condition of financial
distress and apprehension since your last adjournment, which taxed
to the utmost all the authority and expedients within executive
control; and these appear now to be exhausted. If disaster results
from the continued inaction of Congress, the responsibility must rest
where it belongs.
Though the situation thus far considered is fraught with danger
which should be fully realized, and though it presents features of
wrong to the people as well as peril to the country, it is but a result
growing out of a perfectly palpable and apparent cause, constantly
reproducing the same alarming circumstances—a congested national
treasury and a depleted monetary condition in the business of the
country. It need hardly be stated that while the present situation
demands a remedy, we can only be saved from a like predicament in
the future by the removal of its cause.
Our scheme of taxation, by means of which this needless surplus is
taken from the people and put into the public treasury, consists of a
tariff or duty levied upon importations from abroad, and internal
revenue taxes levied upon the consumption of tobacco and spirituous
and malt liquors. It must be conceded that none of the things
subjected to internal revenue taxation are, strictly speaking,
necessaries; there appears to be no just complaint of this taxation by
the consumers of these articles, and there seems to be nothing so
well able to bear the burden without hardship to any portion of the
people.
But our present tariff laws, the vicious, inequitable and illogical
source of unnecessary taxation, ought to be at once revised and
amended. These laws, as their primary and plain effect, raise the
price to consumers of all articles imported and subject to duty, by
precisely the sum paid for such duties. Thus the amount of the duty
measures the tax paid by those who purchase for use these imported
articles. Many of these things, however, are raised or manufactured
in our own country, and the duties now levied upon foreign goods
and products are called protection to these home manufactures,
because they render it possible for those of our people who are
manufacturers, to make these taxed articles and sell them for a price
equal to that demanded for the imported goods that have paid
customs duty. So it happens that while comparatively a few use the
imported articles, millions of our people, who never use and never
saw any of the foreign products, purchase and use things of the same
kind made in this country, and pay therefor nearly or quite the same
enhanced price which the duty adds to the imported articles. Those
who buy imports pay the duty charged thereon into the public
treasury, but the great majority of our citizens, who buy domestic
articles of the same class, pay a sum at least approximately equal to
this duty to the home manufacturer. This reference to the operation
of our tariff laws is not made by way of instruction, but in order that
we may be constantly reminded of the manner in which they impose
a burden upon those who consume domestic products as well as
those who consume imported articles, and thus create a tax upon all
our people.
It is not proposed to entirely relieve the country of this taxation. It
must be extensively continued as the source of the government’s
income; and in a readjustment of our tariff the interests of American
labor engaged in manufacture should be carefully considered, as well
as the preservation of our manufacturers. It may be called
protection, or by any other name, but relief from the hardships and
dangers of our present tariff laws should be devised with especial
precaution against imperilling the existence of our manufacturing
interests. But this existence should not mean a condition which,
without regard to the public welfare or a national exigency, must
always insure the realization of immense profits instead of
moderately profitable returns. As the volume and diversity of our
national activities increase, new recruits are added to those who
desire a continuation of the advantages which they conceive the
present system of tariff taxation directly affords them. So stubbornly
have all efforts to reform the present condition been resisted by
those of our fellow-citizens thus engaged, that they can hardly
complain of the suspicion, entertained to a certain extent, that there
exists an organized combination all along the line to maintain their
advantage.
We are in the midst of centennial celebrations, and with becoming
pride we rejoice in American skill and ingenuity, in American energy
and enterprise, and in the wonderful natural advantages and
resources developed by a century’s national growth. Yet when an
attempt is made to justify a scheme which permits a tax to be laid
upon every consumer in the land for the benefit of our
manufacturers, quite beyond a reasonable demand for governmental
regard, it suits the purposes of advocacy to call our manufactures
infant industries, still needing the highest and greatest degree of
favor and fostering care that can be wrung from Federal legislation.
It is also said that the increase in the price of domestic
manufactures resulting from the present tariff is necessary in order
that higher wages may be paid to our workingmen employed in
manufactures, than are paid for what is called the pauper labor of
Europe. All will acknowledge the force of an argument which
involves the welfare and liberal compensation of our laboring people.
Our labor is honorable in the eyes of every American citizen: and as
it lies at the foundation of our development and progress, it is
entitled, without affectation or hypocrisy, to the utmost regard. The
standard of our laborers’ life should not be measured by that of any
other country less favored, and they are entitled to the full share of
all our advantages.
By the last census it is made to appear that of the 17,392,099 of our
population engaged in all kinds of industries 7,670,493 are employed
in agriculture, 4,074,238 in professional and personal service,
(2,934,876 of whom are domestic servants and laborers,) while
1,810,256 are employed in trade and transportation, and 3,837,112
are classed as employed in manufacturing and mining.
For present purposes, however, the last number given should be
considerably reduced. Without attempting to enumerate all, it will be
conceded that there should be deducted from those which it includes
375,143 carpenters and joiners, 285,401 milliners, dressmakers, and
seamstresses, 172,726 blacksmiths, 133,756 tailors and tailoresses,
102,473 masons, 76,241 butchers, 41,309 bakers, 22,083 plasterers
and 4,891 engaged in manufacturing agricultural implements,
amounting in the aggregate to 1,214,023, leaving 2,623,089 persons
employed in such manufacturing industries as are claimed to be
benefited by a high tariff.
To these the appeal is made to save their employment and
maintain their wages by resisting a change. There should be no
disposition to answer such suggestions by the allegation that they are
in a minority among those who labor, and therefore should forego an
advantage, in the interest of low prices for the majority; their
compensation, as it may be affected by the operation of the tariff
laws, should at all times be scrupulously kept in view; and yet with
slight reflection they will not overlook the fact that they are
consumers with the rest; that they, too, have their own wants and
those of their families to supply from their earnings, and that the
price of the necessaries of life, as well as the amount of their wages,
will regulate the measure of their welfare and comfort.
But the reduction of taxation demanded should be so measured as
not to necessitate or justify either the loss of employment by the
working man nor the lessening of his wages; and the profits still
remaining to the manufacturer, after a necessary readjustment,
should furnish no excuse for the sacrifice of the interests of his
employés either in their opportunity to work or in the diminution of
their compensation. Nor can the worker in manufactures fail to
understand that while a high tariff is claimed to be necessary to allow
the payment of remunerative wages, it certainly results in a very
large increase in the price of nearly all sorts of manufactures, which,
in almost countless forms, he needs for the use of himself and his
family. He receives at the desk of his employer his wages, and
perhaps before he reaches his home is obliged, in a purchase for
family use of an article which embraces his own labor, to return in
the payment of the increase in price which the tariff permits, the
hard-earned compensation of many days of toil.
The farmer and the agriculturist who manufacture nothing, but
who pay the increased price which the tariff imposes, upon every
agricultural implement, upon all he wears and upon all he uses and
owns, except the increase of his flocks and herds and such things as
his husbandry produces from the soil, is invited to aid in maintaining
the present situation; and he is told that a high duty on imported
wool is necessary for the benefit of those who have sheep to shear, in
order that the price of their wool may be increased. They of course
are not reminded that the farmer who has no sheep is by this scheme
obliged, in his purchase of clothing and woolen goods, to pay a
tribute to his fellow farmer as well as to the manufacturer and
merchant; nor is any mention made of the fact that the sheep-owners
themselves and their households, must wear clothing and use other
articles manufactured from the wool they sell at tariff prices, and
thus as consumers must return their share of this increased price to
the tradesman.
I think it may be fairly assumed that a large proportion of the
sheep owned by the farmers throughout the country are found in
small flocks numbering from twenty-five to fifty. The duty on the
grade of imported wool which these sheep yield, is ten cents each
pound if of the value of thirty cents or less, and twelve cents if of the
value of more than thirty cents. If the liberal estimate of six pounds
be allowed for each fleece, the duty thereon would be sixty or
seventy-two cents, and this may be taken as the utmost enhancement
of its price to the farmer by reason of this duty. Eighteen dollars
would thus represent the increased price of the wool from twenty-
five sheep and thirty-six dollars that from the wool of fifty sheep; and
at present values this addition would amount to about one-third of
its price. If upon its sale the farmer receives this or a less tariff profit,
the wool leaves his hands charged with precisely that sum, which in
all its changes will adhere to it, until it reaches the consumer. When
manufactured into cloth and other goods and material for use, its
cost is not only increased to the extent of the farmer’s tariff profit,
but a further sum has been added for the benefit of the manufacturer
under the operation of other tariff laws. In the meantime the day
arrives when the farmer finds it necessary to purchase woolen goods
and material to clothe himself and family for the winter. When he
faces the tradesman for that purpose he discovers that he is obliged
not only to return in the way of increased prices, his tariff profit on
the wool he sold, and which then perhaps lies before him in
manufactured form, but that he must add a considerable sum thereto
to meet a further increase in cost caused by a tariff duty on the
manufacture. Thus in the end he is aroused to the fact that he has
paid upon a moderate purchase, as the result of the tariff scheme,
which, when he sold his wool seemed so profitable, an increase in
price more than sufficient to sweep away all the tariff profit he
received upon the wool he produced and sold.
When the number of farmers engaged in wool-raising is compared
with all the farmers in the country, and the small proportion they
bear to our population is considered; when it is made apparent that,
in the case of a large part of those who own sheep, the benefit of the
present tariff wool is illusory; and, above all, when it must be
conceded that the increase of the cost of living caused by such a
tariff, becomes a burden upon those with moderate means and the
poor, the employed and the unemployed, the sick and well, and the
young and old, and that it constitutes a tax which, with relentless
grasp, is fastened upon the clothing of every man, woman, and child
in the land, reasons are suggested why the removal or reduction or
this duty should be included in a revision of our tariff laws.
In speaking of the increased cost to the consumer of our home
manufactures, resulting from a duty laid upon imported articles of
the same description, the fact is not overlooked that competition
among our domestic producers sometimes has the effect of keeping
the price of their products below the highest limit allowed by such
duty. But it is notorious that this competition is too often strangled
by combinations quite prevalent at this time, and frequently called
trusts, which have for their object the regulation of the supply and
price of commodities made and sold by members of the combination.
The people can hardly hope for any consideration in the operation of
these selfish schemes.
If, however, in the absence of such combination, a healthy and free
competition reduces the price of any particular dutiable article of
home production, below the limit which it might otherwise reach
under our tariff laws, and if, with such reduced price, its
manufacture continues to thrive, it is entirely evident that one thing
has been discovered which should be carefully scrutinized in an
effort to reduce taxation.
The necessity of combination to maintain the price of any
commodity to the tariff point, furnishes proof that some one is
willing to accept lower prices for such commodity, and that such
prices are remunerative; and lower prices produced by competition
prove the same thing. Thus where either of these conditions exists, a
case would seem to be presented for an easy reduction of taxation.
 The considerations which have been presented touching our tariff
laws are intended only to enforce an earnest recommendation that
the surplus revenues of the government be prevented by the
reduction of our customs duties, and, at the same time, to emphasize
a suggestion that in accomplishing this purpose, we may discharge a
double duty to our people by granting to them a measure of relief
from tariff taxation in quarters where it is most needed and from
sources where it can be most fairly and justly accorded.
Nor can the presentation made of such considerations be, with any
degree of fairness, regarded as evidence of unfriendliness toward our
manufacturing interests, or of any lack of appreciation of their value
and importance.
These interests constitute a leading and most substantial element
of our national greatness and furnish the proud proof of our
country’s progress. But if in the emergency that presses upon us our
manufacturers are asked to surrender something for the public good
and to avert disaster, their patriotism, as well as a grateful
recognition of advantages already afforded, should lead them to
willing coöperation. No demand is made that they shall forego all the
benefits of governmental regard; but they cannot fail to be
admonished of their duty, as well as their enlightened self-interest
and safety, when they are reminded of the fact that financial panic
and collapse, to which the present condition tends, afford no greater
shelter or protection to our manufactures than to our other
important enterprises. Opportunity for safe, careful, and deliberate
reform is now afforded; and none of us should be unmindful of a
time when an abused and irritated people, heedless of those who
have resisted timely and reasonable relief, may insist upon a radical
and sweeping rectification of their wrongs.
The difficulty attending a wise and fair revision of our tariff laws is
not underestimated. It will require on the part of the Congress great
labor and care, and especially a broad and national contemplation of
the subject, and a patriotic disregard of such local and selfish claims
as are unreasonable and reckless of the welfare of the entire country.
Under our present laws more than four thousand articles are
subject to duty. Many of these do not in any way compete with our
own manufactures, and many are hardly worth attention as subjects
of revenue. A considerable reduction can be made in the aggregate,
by adding them to the free list. The taxation of luxuries presents no
features of hardship; but the necessaries of life used and consumed
by all the people, the duty upon which adds to the cost of living in
every home, should be greatly cheapened.
The radical reduction of the duties imposed upon raw material
used in manufactures, or its free importation, is of course an
important factor in any effort to reduce the price of these
necessaries; it would not only relieve them from the increased cost
caused by the tariff on such material, but the manufactured product
being thus cheapened, that part of the tariff now laid upon such
product, as a compensation to our manufacturers for the present
price of raw material, could be accordingly modified. Such reduction,
or free importation, would serve beside to largely reduce the revenue.
It is not apparent how such a change can have any injurious effect
upon our manufacturers. On the contrary, it would appear to give
them a better chance in foreign markets with the manufacturers of
other countries, who cheapen their wares by free material. Thus our
people might have the opportunity of extending their sales beyond
the limits of home consumption—saving them from the depression,
interruption in business, and loss caused by a glutted domestic
market, and affording their employés more certain and steady labor,
with its resulting quiet and contentment.
The question thus imperatively presented for solution should be
approached in a spirit higher than partisanship and considered in
the light of that regard for patriotic duty which should characterize
the action of those intrusted with the weal of a confiding people. But
the obligation to declared party policy and principle is not wanting to
urge prompt and effective action. Both of the great political parties
now represented in the Government have, by repeated and
authoritative declarations, condemned the condition of our laws
which permits the collection from the people of unnecessary revenue,
and have, in the most solemn manner, promised its correction; and
neither as citizens or partisans are our countrymen in a mood to
condone the deliberate violation of these pledges.
Our progress toward a wise conclusion will not be improved by
dwelling upon the theories of protection and free trade. This savors
too much of bandying epithets. It is a condition which confronts us—
not a theory. Relief from this condition may involve a slight
reduction of the advantages which we award our home productions,
but the entire withdrawal of such advantages should not be
contemplated. The question of free trade is absolutely irrelevant; and
the persistent claim made in certain quarters, that all efforts to
relieve the people from unjust and unnecessary taxation are schemes
of so-called free-traders, is mischievous and far removed from any
consideration for the public good.
The simple and plain duty which we owe the people is to reduce
taxation to the necessary expenses of an economical operation of the
government, and to restore to the business of the country the money
which we hold in the treasury through the perversion of
governmental powers. These things can and should be done with
safety to all our industries, without danger to the opportunity for
remunerative labor which our workingmen need, and with benefit to
them and all our people, by cheapening their means of subsistence
and increasing the measure of their comforts.
The Constitution provides that the President “shall, from time to
time, give to the Congress information of the state of the Union.” It
has been the custom of the Executive, in compliance with this
provision, to annually exhibit to the Congress, at the opening of its
session, the general condition of the country, and to detail, with
some particularity, the operations of the different Executive
Departments. It would be especially agreeable to follow this course at
the present time, and to call attention to the valuable
accomplishments of these departments during the last fiscal year.
But I am much impressed with the paramount importance of the
subject to which this communication has thus far been devoted, that
I shall forego the addition of any other topic, and only urge upon
your immediate consideration the “state of the Union” as shown in
the present condition of our treasury and our general fiscal situation,
upon which every element of our safety and prosperity depends.
The reports of the heads of departments, which will be submitted,
contain full and explicit information touching the transaction of the
business intrusted to them, and such recommendations relating to
legislation in the public interest as they deem advisable. I ask for
these reports and recommendations the deliberate examination and
action of the Legislative branch of the government.
 There are other subjects not embraced in the departmental reports
demanding legislative consideration and which I should be glad to
submit. Some of them, however, have been earnestly presented in
previous messages, and as to them, I beg leave to repeat prior
recommendations.
As the law makes no provision for any report from the department
of State, a brief history of the transactions of that important
Department, together with other matters which it may hereafter be
deemed essential to commend to the attention of the Congress, may
furnish the occasion for a future communication.

Grover Cleveland.

Washington, December 6, 1887.

 Mr. Blaine’s Answer to Cleveland.

By Cable to the N. Y. Tribune.

Paris, Dec. 7, 1887.—After reading an abstract of the President’s
message, laid before all Europe this morning, I saw Mr. Blaine and
asked him if he would be willing to give his views upon the
recommendation of the President in the form of a letter or interview.
He preferred an interview, if I would agree to send him an intelligent
shorthand reporter, with such questions as should give free scope for
an expression of his views. The following lucid and powerful
statement is the result. Mr. Blaine began by saying to the reporter:
“I have been reading an abstract of the President’s message and
have been especially interested in the comments of the London
papers. Those papers all assume to declare that the message is a free
trade manifesto and evidently are anticipating an enlarged market
for English fabrics in the United States as a consequence of the
President’s recommendations. Perhaps that fact stamped the
character of the message more clearly than any words of mine can.”
“You don’t mean actual free trade without duty?” queried the
reporter.
“No,” replied Mr. Blaine. “Nor do the London papers mean that.
They simply mean that the President has recommended what in the
United States is known as a revenue tariff, rejecting the protective
feature as an object and not even permitting protection to result
freely as an incident to revenue duties.”
“I don’t know that I quite comprehend that last point,” said the
reporter.
“I mean,” said Mr. Blaine, “that for the first time in the history of
the United States the President recommends retaining the internal
tax in order that the tariff may be forced down even below the fair
revenue standard. He recommends that the tax on tobacco be
retained, and thus that many millions annually shall be levied on a
domestic product which would far better come from a tariff on
foreign fabrics.”
“Then do you mean to imply that you would favor the repeal of the
tobacco tax?”
“Certainly; I mean just that,” said Mr. Blaine. “I should urge that it
be done at once, even before the Christmas holidays. It would in the
first place bring great relief to growers of tobacco all over the
country, and would, moreover, materially lessen the price of the
article to consumers. Tobacco to millions of men is a necessity. The
President calls it a luxury, but it is a luxury in no other sense than tea
and coffee are luxuries. It is well to remember that the luxury of
yesterday becomes a necessity of to-day. Watch, if you please, the
number of men at work on the farm, in the coal mine, along the
railroad, in the iron foundry, or in any calling, and you will find 95 in
100 chewing while they work. After each meal the same proportion
seek the solace of a pipe or a cigar. These men not only pay the
millions of the tobacco tax, but pay on every plug and every cigar an
enhanced price which the tax enables the manufacturer and retailer
to impose. The only excuse for such a tax is the actual necessity
under which the government found itself during the war, and the
years immediately following. To retain the tax now in order to
destroy the protection which would incidentally flow from raising the
same amount of money on foreign imports, is certainly a most
extraordinary policy for our government.”
“Well, then, Mr. Blaine, would you advise the repeal of the whiskey
tax also?”
“No, I would not. Other considerations than those of financial
administration are to be taken into account with regard to whiskey.
There is a moral side to it. To cheapen the price of whiskey is to
increase its consumption enormously. There would be no sense in
urging the reform wrought by high license in many States if the
National Government neutralizes the good effect by making whiskey
within reach of every one at twenty cents a gallon. Whiskey would be
everywhere distilled if the surveillance of the government were
withdrawn by the remission of the tax, and illicit sales could not then
be prevented even by a policy as rigorous and searching as that with
which Russia pursues the Nihilists. It would destroy high license at
once in all the States.
“Whiskey has done a vast deal of harm in the United States. I
would try to make it do some good. I would use the tax to fortify our
cities on the seaboard. In view of the powerful letter addressed to the
democratic party on the subject of fortifications by the late Samuel J.
Tilden, in 1885, I am amazed that no attention has been paid to the
subject by the democratic administration. Never before in the history
of the world has any government allowed great cities on the
seaboard, like Philadelphia, New York, Boston, Baltimore, New
Orleans, and San Francisco, to remain defenceless.”
“But,” said the reporter, “you don’t think we are to have a war in
any direction?”
“Certainly not,” said Mr. Blaine, “Neither, I presume, did Mr.
Tilden when he wrote his remarkable letter. But we should change a
remote chance into an absolute impossibility. If our weak and
exposed points were strongly fortified; if to-day we had by any
chance even such a war as we had with Mexico our enemy could
procure ironclads in Europe that would menace our great cities with
destruction or lay them under contribution.”
“But would not our fortifying now possibly look as if we expected
war?”
“Why should it any more than fortifications made seventy or eighty
years ago by our grandfathers when they guarded themselves against
successful attack from the armaments of that day. We don’t
necessarily expect a burglar because we lock our doors at night, but if
by any possibility a burglar comes it contributes vastly to our peace
of mind and our sound sleep to feel that he can’t get in.”
“But after the fortifications should be constructed would you still
maintain the tax on whiskey?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Blaine, “So long as there is whiskey to tax I would
tax it, and when the National Government should have no use for the
money I would divide the tax among the Federal Union with specific
object of lightening the tax on real estate. The houses and farms of
the whole country pay too large a proportion of the total taxes. If
ultimately relief could be given in that direction it would, in my
judgment, be a wise and beneficent policy. Some honest but