Thread: Working Overtime

Alexius Wolf sat there on the trendy barstool in the Las Vegas hotel bar. Dark circles ringed the man's vibrant blue eyes and he stared quietly into his drink which reflected the young man's handsome face back in alcoholic terms. His drink was just a temporary balm for a lifetime of wounds, however. Born into privilege, Alex was the son of the wealthy entrepreneur Otto Wolf, an immigrant from Germany who had made it big in the states marketing his new steel making process that proved to be more than twice as strong as anything on the market in the day, and since then Wolf Enterprises had branched out to encompass a good share of almost any market, from ladies' cosmetics to assault rifles for the U.S. Marines. Now that all sounds great, except when you realize how socially awkward the new CEO of Wolf Enterprises was - homeschooled from a young age, virtually cut off from social interaction outside of the internet. Not that he really minded though - half of his exile from the real world was self-imposed. Always frighteningly brilliant, Alex had little interest in playing with people his age as a kid. Whatsmore, he was depressed. Now the young boy prodigy wasn't so young anymore, staring down thirty. He also could no longer shelter himself from the world, now that his old man Otto had died only a few years back, leaving his only living relative all of his wealth and the primary stockholder in his multi-faceted company on one condition He get married. That's where Carol had come in, Alex's wife and the chief source of his current slump. In order to get his inheritance Alex had married her suddenly, without any real love and the relationship had only progressively soured on account of Carol being in it mostly for money, and scorning her admittedly devoted husband in the bedroom because of...well because of his fetishes. The Golden Boy of Wolf Enterprises did have a very, very darkside afterall...and one that he all too seldom was able to touch. The barstool creaked as its occupant leaned back, looking at the mahogany wood ceilings above, his face sporting several days worth of growth. That was a side effect of his low-eb mood swings, the lack of personal hygiene. Luckily he'd managed to bathe and brush his teeth today...but somehow shaving always got put on the back burner. The national sales meeting here at the ritzy Vegas hotel hadn't gone very well, what with the economy like it was. It was only because of Herculian efforts by Alex that the company was even still floating, since so many of its assets had crumbled right out from under it like foundations of a building collapsing in a pile of rubble. Naturally this meant that Alex, and virtually everyone else, had to take a pay cut. Boy Carol had not liked that, a tidbit that Alex could never understand. They already had millions and millions of dollars...what did it matter if he brought home two million a year or one millions? He exhaled...never good enough for that bitch. He couldn't even remember the last time they'd rutted in a sweaty heap on his bed, and even then it as like fucking a block of ice. The ice cubes in his brandy clinked as he took another gulp, shoving his glass out towards the barkeep, the only person in the room besides himself. Hit me.