The Alpha Wolf

A tale of the Modern Male

By Nick Clements

John Hunt Publishing Ltd.

Copyright © 2012 Nick Clements
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-78099-504-5

Contents

One Begging for enlightenment……………………………………….1Two Conceiving and conniving………………………………………..5Three Everything according to plan…………………………………..10Four New Age traveller……………………………………………..16Five The New Age of the King………………………………………..23Six Mummy’s Boy……………………………………………………31Seven The Buddha Beggar…………………………………………….35Eight Saskia………………………………………………………43Nine Receding hairline……………………………………………..53Ten Grandfather in the lodge………………………………………..61Eleven Out-of-the-world and down-to-earth experiences………………….70Twelve Breakthrough time……………………………………………80Thirteen Jules the jewel……………………………………………87Fourteen Time to know the truth……………………………………..92Fifteen Snakes and ladders………………………………………….103Sixteen All change…………………………………………………112Seventeen Learning what is important…………………………………120Eighteen The canary sings the blues………………………………….127Nineteen Men at work……………………………………………….137Twenty Angela’s eightieth…………………………………………..145Twenty-one Achieving success through empathy………………………….155Twenty-two The teacher leaves and leads………………………………166Twenty-three The maturation…………………………………………178Twenty-four Light a candle for me……………………………………188Twenty-five Stop trying to save the planet……………………………203The practice………………………………………………………210

CHAPTER 1

Begging for enlightenment

The score so far:

Roger: 22 years. The world: 1992.

‘What do you mean, you thought it looked better that way?’

The veins in Roger’s neck bulged as he glared at his assistant.

‘I thought the image was … more attractive,’ Malcolmresponded with eyes caste down.

‘Malcolm, we don’t pay you to think, we pay you to do.’ Rogerfelt exasperated.

He continued, ‘The campaign is retro, it’s about feel-good, it’sabout ideal family values. Get with the programme.’

Roger turned away in disgust.

‘I want that image in black and white on my desk in 30minutes.’

Malcolm opened his mouth to speak.

‘No excuses.’

Roger strode away from the desk, enjoying the feeling ofpower. He rode the wave of anger silently coming from Malcolm.

The score so far:

Roger: One Malcolm: Nil

That night Roger towed his suitcase up the familiarUnderground passageway, trying to get home as quickly aspossible. He was wearing the Gieves No. 1 Saville Row, his bestsuit.

It was late, and the grimy tunnel reverberated to the sound ofbusy people going to busy places, mingled with loud laughterand jeers from a group of young men somewhere up ahead ofhim. The stained, grey ceramic-tiled walls, dimly lit, smelling ofsweat and dust were just like so many other LondonUnderground passageways. No one could want to loiter here, noone could call this home. For Roger home was just a few hundredyards away.

He strode purposefully, he was mentally checking hisitinerary for the next day, he needed to arrive in good time,probably nine …

WALLOP.

As he hurriedly turned a corner he was sent flying.

Roger fell hard and sharp.

Pain rushed in from his hands and knees. He quickly lookedup to see if anyone had noticed his embarrassment – far aheadthe same gang of lads were singing to themselves, no one elsewas around.

He tried to compose himself, he tried to get up. Lying on thefloor with him was a beggar, their two bodies now almostwrapped together in an embrace. Roger realized his nostrils werebeginning to sting with the acrid smell of piss.

He saw up close the vacant, red-rimmed eyes, the puffy face,the drooling lips and dishevelled hair of this mumbling man.Roger felt humiliated to be on the same level as this noxiousperson. He tried to spring to his feet, but wobbled, staggered up,pains in his knees, palms scuffed.

‘What …! Why the fuck did you do that?’ He felt the bloodrushing to his face, his anger rising.

The beggar looked up at him and said, ‘I was trying to pickmyself up, but seem to have brought you down, so sorry. It wasnot my intention …’ The man’s eloquence threw Roger momentarily.

‘What?’ snapped Roger. ‘What did you want to do? To get inthe way, to trip people up?’

Roger picked up his suitcase.

The beggar was trying awkwardly, painfully, to lift himselfinto a sitting position. ‘No,’ he replied looking up at Roger. Thenhe added, ‘What were you running from?’

‘What am I running from?’ Roger, felt his anger rising again.’Oh, my God, flipping psychology from a pisshead, trying to beclever are you? Well, let’s see. I’m not running from the social likeyou, not the police like you, not the benefit office like you, notthe … not the other pissheads who think you’re a wanker.’

By venting his anger so completely Roger felt more powerful,as if he was regaining control of the situation by beingvenomous.

He looked down contemptuously at the beggar. He saw hisweak and feeble frame, his dirty, stained clothes. Rogercompared them to his. He now felt fully in command of thesituation again. The beggar mumbled, and Roger bent forwardmenacingly over him.

‘What did you say?’

‘Sorry to have hurt your feelings, many blessings to you andyour family,’ came the quietly slurred reply.

‘Oh, fuck off, why don’t you just get a job. Do something withyour life, rather than pissing it away.’

Roger turned and started to walk quickly away, with purpose,with confidence. His rapid footsteps echoed down thepassageway, they exclaimed his ascendancy, and he affordedhimself a wry smile as he heard the vagrant call out.

‘Blessings on your way.’

Oh, just sober up you smelly git, he thought.

Safely back at his flat, Roger folded and laid his clothes out forwashing and cleaning. He stepped into the bathroom turned onthe shower and glanced briefly at his reflection in the mirror.’Not bad, brother,’ he commented to himself as he held hisstomach in and bulged his biceps. He was still upset about theincident in the tunnel. His knees throbbed as a reminder of hisfall. He decided the best way to recover his equilibrium was toindulge himself.

He gathered the tools of the modern man.

The Biotherm Homme Aquapower Absolute Gel as amoisturizer.

The Lab Series Milf Foaming Face Wash for that gentle buttough rub.

His Perricone MD High Potency Eye Lift.

Then the Dermalogica Invigorating Shave Gel.

Finished off with their Post-Shave Gel.

He knew he’d feel good after that lot.

He set to. About three quarters of an hour later and he waswarmly reflective and calm.

Now the final job.

He closely inspected his hairline in the mirror checking forany signs of thinning, and he was about halfway through thiswhen the phone rang.

He saw it was Giselle, and quickly picked up the phone.

‘Hi, how are you?’ he cooed.

Her husky tantalising voice came over loud and clear. ‘I’m inLondon. I’m at the station, meet now. I need sex, right away.’

The score so far:

Roger: One foaming bath Beggar: Nil

Note to self:

Avoid falling over beggars in the underground, it can seriouslyhurt your knees.

CHAPTER 2

Conceiving and conniving

Giselle was a dark-haired Parisienne who worked as a rep forsome of the largest fashion and perfume houses in Europe. Sheand Roger had ‘come across each other’ at trade fairs andcorporate events.

He hadn’t registered she was over ten years older than him.He’d just seen a beautiful, exotic and sexy woman who keptappearing in his life.

He didn’t realize it, but she had been stalking him.

She’d made sure she’d attended the same conferences andtrade fairs. She plotted their encounters. At first, she’d actedhaughty and aloof, pretending to be mildly flattered by hisattempts at seducing her, but then one night in Hannover, she lethim have what he wanted.

They were sitting in the restaurant at a large table full of repsand fair officials. The throng was consumed with chatter andbanter, fuelled by the free wine and buffet food perched on kneesand table edges.

She’d known her monthly cycle was right.

She’d squeezed herself into her most revealing little blackdress, worn her fertility-enhancing gold bracelet, and applied aliberal amount of Chanel No.5. She had ensured they sat togetherand her knee pressed against his thigh. They chatted about theday, bitched about other traders, and she kept paying him smallcompliments. Roger wasn’t particularly aware of anythingGiselle was saying, his whole mind was focused on her kneepressing against his leg. He adjusted his leg, ensuring theirthighs and knees were now hard against each other.

She smiled a deeply seductive smile, she drew his eyes tohers, and at the same time, her hand gently rested on his thigh.He could hear nothing but the pounding of his heart.

‘Oooh, Roger, your legs, they are very athletic, no?’ Shesqueezed his thigh. ‘You must work out a lot?’

She pressed herself closer to him.

He could smell the warm musk of her body, his head began tospin, he was intoxicated by her.

‘Yes, er, no, actually I don’t,’ he mumbled. ‘Sorry, it is veryloud in here … can’t hear above the din.’ He looked around at themilling people.

‘Yes, very loud, why don’t we go up to my room, there we cantalk.’

She squeezed his thigh decisively, let her hand gently brushhis torso whilst making sure he could catch a glimpse of hercleavage as she leant forward. She slowly rose from her chair andwaved him forward discreetly.

He didn’t need a second invitation.

They consummated their lust together in a series of hotel roomsin major cities throughout Europe as they followed that year’strade fairs and events.

This time she was in London.

When they made love, it was unlike anything he’d experiencedbefore. He was taken to places he hadn’t been before. Theencounters with Giselle made Roger feel vulnerable and exposed.He felt such a rush of emotion whilst in her arms, it was onoccasions overwhelming. Twice he had cried after they madelove, which disturbed him.

Roger was unsettled by such intensity. She stirred feelings inhim he had never experienced before. He had little previousexperienced of being with women, most were brief anduninspiring affairs.

This was something else.

He was used to being in control of his emotions, being able tostifle feelings. All his life he had learnt to suppress emotions andit came as a shock to him that they still lurked in his body. Hethought he’d conquered his vulnerability.

He hadn’t.

The next week Giselle disappeared from his life, didn’t returncalls and was unavailable. Roger was baffled, a little disappointedthat it had ended so abruptly, but also relieved that hedidn’t have to be so emotional any more. He resolved to himselfthat he wouldn’t be that way again with a woman, as it haddistressed him. He would retain control in future. He would bein charge, as he felt it should be.

After two months he had resolved the affair in his head. He’dhad a great time with Giselle, he’d enjoyed it, but it was now timeto move on, to seek more conquests on his terms. He didn’t needGiselle.

The score so far:

Roger: One Giselle: Nil

Then she called.

‘Roger, I have news for you.’

‘Yes, what’s that?’ He thought it was something work related.

‘I’m pregnant … it is your child.’

There was stunned silence, followed by a brief, ‘What?’

‘I will have a baby.’

There was an even longer and deeper pause.

Roger didn’t know how to react, he was torn between feelingbetrayed, maybe used, immediately frightened by the prospectof being a father, angry at the inconvenience this could cause, butdeep down also a little bit proud of himself.

They met a couple of weeks later. Giselle sat with her legscrossed at the bar of an expensive hotel. Her immaculate hairmatching her beautiful black dress, revealing stockinged legswhich made Roger’s mouth water.

He drooled internally, but then checked himself.

He was resolved to sort this out once and for all, and heopened his mouth to speak.

Before a word came from his mouth Giselle had intervened.

‘I’ve used you, Roger.’ She waved a hand indicating that heshould sit next to her. ‘I’ve been very, how you say, manipulative?’

He nodded his head.

She continued and it was clear Giselle had planned the event,she admitted as much.

‘I feel it is time for me to become a mother. I am 37, alwayssingle, I have no prospect of a long-term partner, I have my workcommitments.’

She explained she’d wanted to have a child, so she’d deliberatelygone out and looked for a sperm donor. Roger had fitted thebill nicely, young, fit, handsome, intelligent, hard-working. Hewas all she would have wanted in the father of her child, but shedidn’t have the time to build a relationship.

She then told him in no uncertain terms she didn’t want himto have anything to do with the child, she was very capable ofbringing up the child on her own, she was a lady of considerablemeans. She would bring up the child with her mother.

In this day and age, she argued, a daughter, for she hoped itwas a girl, really didn’t need a father. She uncrossed her legs toadjust her dress and Roger, his mouth still open as it had beenthroughout Giselle’s tirade, was able to re-focus his attention.

‘A mother can provide everything a girl needs throughout herlife. I’m no feminist. I am much more pragmatic and sensible thanthat. I have always been in charge of my life, I want a child, so Ihave got one. This is how the world works, supply and demand.You have had fun, playing your part. I know you liked it. I thankyou for that, but now I am in charge, and I will do as I like.’

She slid off the bar stool, straightened her dress, kissed Rogeron both cheeks and left.

Roger watched as she departed, with some regret. He turnedto the barman, thinking that this was the last time he’d ever seeher, ‘Double scotch on the rocks, please.’

Giselle had it all planned out. She would buy her daughter lotsof fashionable clothes, and the two of them would be the talk ofthe town. They’d go to international receptions and parties,wearing the same outfits. Her daughter would be just a sweet,lovely, mini-Giselle.

As Roger nursed his glass, he realized he hadn’t uttered aword in their time together. A large part of him was hugelyrelieved by Giselle’s news. He felt a sense of release. He felt asthough he was back in control of his life again. He was free of theunknown responsibilities of being a parent, which had suddenlyloomed over him. Children had never been part of his long- orshort-term plan. He was again free to pursue his busy work lifeand commitment-free lifestyle.

A little part of him which lurked in the darker recesses of hisheart was upset and disappointed, but that was quicklysuppressed. When he was home, he returned to his Game Boy,but he remained disturbed. That night he had a haunting dreamabout being in a pit full of snakes, which made him feel queasy.

The score so far:

Roger: Nil Giselle: One

Note to self:

If you want to become a father, do it consciously, or not at all.

CHAPTER 3

Everything according to plan

The score so far:

Roger: 23 years. The world: 1993.

Roger was eating his lunch outside a restaurant when his friend,Crispin, passed by with a woman in tow. Crispin had been atLSE with Roger, and worked in an executive law firm. Heannoyed Roger intensely with his casual and sarcastic way, butRoger was in awe of him as he earned twice as much and he was’in the city.’

‘Hi, Roger, this is Harriett, works at Attic recruitment, verybespoke and boutique,’ laughed Crispin. ‘How’s the advertisingworld, me old mate?’

Roger suppressed an angry look.

‘As you well know, Crispin, I’m not in advertising, I’m inmarketing,’ he retorted.

‘Yeah, all the same, old man, you and Harriett are in the samegame, pushing and shoving, trying to con people.’

‘Oh, and you’re a paragon of virtue and honesty?’ laughedRoger.

‘Yes, you know me,’ replied Crispin with feigned indignation.’Anyway, we must dash, good to see you, see you soon.’

‘Bye,’ Roger replied to the space which had been hurriedlyvacated by the two of them. They’d spied someone else, moreimportant than Roger, an executive from Coopers Lybrand.

They made time to chat to him, not Roger. He continued to eathis sandwich.

Roger had known from a very early age he wanted to be inmarketing. His mother had not understood his interest andcertainly couldn’t fathom where it came from. He’d been a lonerwho studied hard and earnestly throughout school then wentstraight to the London School of Economics. He’d gained a FirstClass Honors degree in Economics and Politics. On graduatinghe’d been selected as a graduate trainee on Proctor and Gamble’sMarketing and Development Programme. Within eighteenmonths he’d been promoted to marketing assistant, whilst qualifyingfor his Marketing Diploma from the Chartered Institute ofMarketing.

He had set himself a series of targets, and had achieved thefirst of them within a very short period of time. He was ashooting star who had forged ahead of his same-aged contemporaries,and he knew where he was going.

The score so far:

Age 23: Marketing assistant manager. Job done.

The projected score to come:

Age 25: Assistant brand manager. Very likely.

Age 28: Brand manager. Achievable.

Age 31: Category Director. Yes please.

At Proctor and Gamble he had a very varied workload. No dullroutine, each day being different. He’d be visiting clients andgoing to exhibitions one day, followed by research oroverlooking production schedules the next.

He liked the precise nature of the market research and theattention to detail and accuracy which was vital in his field. Hewas fully committed to the job, and happily worked overtimeand through the night if needed.

Such dedication meant he didn’t have a wide circle of friends.He hadn’t had many whilst at school, and his loner behaviour atwork didn’t attract them either. He thought it was a worthwhilesacrifice.
(Continues…)Excerpted from The Alpha Wolf by Nick Clements. Copyright © 2012 Nick Clements. Excerpted by permission of John Hunt Publishing Ltd..
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