Erick unfolded his lanky self from the back of the taxi, paid the driver, then brushed lint off his perfectly fitting suit as the taxi moved off. Erick prided himself on being 'hard' - hard of body, hard of mind, driving hard bargains for the investment fund he managed. Nothing pleased him more than ratcheting up his annual bonus cheque another few notches - unless it was watching his lean, hard body in the gym's mirrors as he worked out. No, there was nothing soft, let alone flabby, about Erick.
And now he was evaluating a chocolate company - the funds director's were pushing for more diversification in consumer goods, and this private company had caught their eye, its profit margins rumoured to be fabulous, but its capital stock aging. He was here to look it over, decide if taking a 10 or 15 percent share was worthwhile - whether even more profit could be whipped out of the plant, and its manager, the oddball 'Wilma Wonka'. Chocolate held no attraction for Erick, except as something indulgent to tempt a date - but woe betide her if she ate too much of it, and ended up not hard herself....
Eric strode to the entrance, where a bright-eyed security guard took his name, checked his appointment, and issued him a visitor's pass, all while signalling Wilma's assistant that her visitor had arrived. The guard, no slouch himself, took in this skinny hardbody who weighed half what he did, and wondered why anyone would want to be so thin...why, his suit simply hung beneath his obvious pecs, no belly at all showing beneath it! The door opened beside the guard, and Wilma's assistant appeared to escort the visitor up. "I'll take you up to the conference room," said the....
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