Sleeping with the CEO's Daughter

By T. D. Herod

Experience the devastating nightmare of divorce, unemployment, homelessness, bankruptcy and near-suicide that forever changed the life of a
training manager at an international hazardous waste disposal company.

Enter the boardroom of a less than ethical environmental services firm that made tens of millions in spite of a callous disregard for the very environmental laws that guaranteed them a huge marketplace.

• Language: English
• Publisher: T. D. Herod
• Release date: Apr 11, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310626449

T. D. Herod

T.D.Herod is an Environmental Health & Safety professional and enjoys writing (poorly) for his own enjoyment.

Book preview

Herod writes of the devastating aftermath of an adulterous affair at a billion dollar public company, and not with just any subordinate: his passion was shared with the CEO’s Daughter!

Talk about hard labor!

--Roy Blount, Jr. – Men’s Journal

Sleeping with the CEO’s Daughter

Copyright 2001 T.D.Herod

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Table of Contents

Chapter One: Falling from grace in a meteoric splash

Chapter Two: Dysfunctional predestination

Chapter Three: Career development: Inches from the boardroom of a fortune 500

Chapter Four: The CEO's daughter: Loyalty & passion

Chapter Five: Expense account adultery: When the pecker gets hard, the mind goes limp

Chapter Six: Marriages: For all the wrong reasons

Chapter Seven: Welcome to the club: Another promotion offer

Chapter Eight: D day

Chapter Nine: Six months of torture: Hell hath no fury like a trusting wife scorned

Chapter Ten: Resignation: Desperation

Chapter Eleven: Porcelain gallows

Chapter Twelve: Resurrection

Chapter Thirteen: Economy or me? $100,000 suddenly gone

Chapter Fourteen: Unemployment, Eviction, & Homelessness: A 38-year old destitute professional?

Chapter Fifteen: Vehicular homestead

Chapter Sixteen: Salvation: The sweet smell of spilled oil

Chapter Seventeen: Her again

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More about T.D.Herod

This story is real. Although names have been changed there is no embellishment. Committing this story to paper (well, sort of) has proven to be great therapy!

Chapter One

Falling from grace in a meteoric splash

The peristaltic wave of cold morning air shook my body from head to toe. It was summer in Vermont, yet the early morning misty chill penetrated to the bone. The $500 double-breasted Bill Blass sport coat that had been my nightshirt provided little insulation, nor did the 1984 French sports car with dysfunctional heater, that for the past few weeks had been home.

It was dawn, sure to be another spectacular July day here in the woods of central Vermont, hard by the Ottaquechee River. My eyes scanned the woods, down the logging road toward the hardtop ahead, to reality, which had dealt me such a shitty hand of cards.

Surrounding my squatted home site was no evidence of the nightly activity that had repeatedly awakened me. The shrill voices of native screech owls. The rustle in the brush of unknown predators, presumably in their nocturnal search for food. Possibly the infamous Catamount, long believed gone from these hills. I was the intruder in their domain, by rights, an uninvited squatter. Hard to imagine I was less than a mile from the warmth, comfort and luxury of a 6000 acre resort, replete with private golf courses (two of them), private ski hill, private club house with private squash, private tennis, private pools, and of course the obligatory private dining rooms and cocktail lounges. Harder still to imagine that just weeks prior to this shivering morning I was a resident of this exclusive private enclave. One of them. Rubbing elbows with the gentry, mostly weekend visitors from New York, Connecticut and Massachusetts, in their Porsches, Lexus', BMW's, Mercedes, and even the occasional Rolls Royce.

Muscles aching I shifted my weary body from the half-front seat halfback seat semi-reclining position that for seemingly endless hours had offered little comfort, and less warmth. Soon the daily onslaught of joggers, speed-walkers, and bicycle fanatics would pass by on the hard road, unconscious of my being, and less conscious of my financial and emotional plight.

Straining for comfort, I crawled from the cramped surroundings of this itinerant bedroom and stretched upright on the soggy ground outside that had also become my latrine. It was Thursday. Perhaps a more optimistic day than the previous dozen or so had been.

Soon the daily trek to the post office, which had become my only legitimate address, would begin. Shaving from the rear bumper, with handheld sliver of mirror and water from an empty antifreeze jug, refilled in the adjacent river, I noted another passing jogger. No doubt an aristocrat, one of the thousand or more private condo owners, vacationing from their full-time urban existence and high- income suburban digs. Ducking down, in a feeble attempt to avoid the embarrassment and humiliation of being noticed, I waited for the passing jogger to clear the opening at the end of the muddy logging trail. On one occasion, an errant cycler had ventured down the wooded trail, in search of private surroundings to respond to natures' call, I guess, only to be startled by the sudden realization that someone had taken up residence in this unlikely place. His surprise could not have equaled my own, nor could he have felt the wrenching gut of humiliation that I was feeling. Nowhere to hide, nowhere to disappear. I hoped he was not one of the few in this resort community that would smile and wave when recognizing a familiar face, as had happened far too infrequently during my previous year in the nearby fat-cat environs.

To my relief, the cycler remounted his bike, continuing out of sight beyond the strong oaks and sugar maples that were my curtains. Perhaps he didn't see my face, or recognize the damaged car. Reclining once again in the driver’s seat, I nervously awaited the passage of time, praying that long overdue consulting service receivables had finally arrived. Modest sums, yet everything in the world, or so it seemed, at this juncture.

How could I be in this position? my mind queried.

It was only a year and a half since leaving the comfort and stability of Corporate America. Lunching with the CEO of a billion dollar Fortune 500 Company, communicating on a first name basis. Enjoying all of