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Ben felt judgement coming. He prayed he wasn't fabricating false hope. He stared upwards, watching the robed judge commanding the courtroom from his contemporary pale oak podium. Six Slack, Leigh and Wilson lawyers filled his defense table, opposed by a twelve strong KRT Cosmetics team overflowing theirs.

Kate sat behind Ben in the public seats, observing his composed demeanor spreading confidence. She'd put Belle, her head of Human Resources, in overall command. Their two hundred strong Hair Air team, called crew by Belle, required less management as individuals stepped up.

"I've read your detailed submissions and heard your oral arguments," the judge intoned. "I'm ready to give my ruling on the defense motion for summary judgement."

He stared at KRT's lawyers. "In your employ, the defendant created flavored lip balms, skin longevity products, and mascara. Under seal, I've seen Hair Air's ingredients. Your thousand page list of chemicals he used in your employ doesn't include a single one."

Ben winced inside. KRT had learned tons of ingredients not in Hair Air.

The judge continued. "Further, you specified he'd worked on your hair products. An eyebrow defining brush isn't a hair product. Your shameful attempt to sustain your case insults this court. Motion granted. I enter judgement for the defendant, awarding costs against the plaintiff. Case dismissed."

Ben beamed. Ignoring everyone, he spun, reached over the low wooden barrier behind his defense table, and hugged Kate. They didn't need words.

"Call Evan," she said. "You deserve to enjoy telling him."

Leaving court, thanking his expensive team, he found an alley and called his lead investor. He recited the judge's damming inditement of KRT's case. Hearing costs awarded against KRT, Evan launched effusive praise in Ben's ear. Ben ended their call, reminding Evan about tonight's Hair Air party. Its timing was perfect.

Timing was his forte today. Changed from courtroom suits to their office wear, he and Kate approached 1160, having enjoyed the twenty-minute walk from their apartment. As the four black revolving doors came into sight, a white, unmarked tractor trailer halted outside 1160, hissing its brakes. His arm around Kate, they watched two drivers unload white five-foot-tall cardboard cartons of Hair Air. Ten thousand pouches per carton, the pair shuttled one hundred cartons upstairs on trolleys. One million pouches ensured his entire office crew could feel the actual product, see it, touch it, use it, and give it away.

Millions more pouches were piling up, one hundred miles south, in his production factory.

Following their cartons upstairs, Kate showed their office manager how to break open the marked panels. Summoning an impromptu muscled team, they spread the free-standing cartons throughout the office.

Interest brewing around the ninth floor, she stepped her flat white champion sneaker on a desk drawer unit, climbing onto the nearest desk. Ninth floor activity settled as her crew noticed her. Sweeping her arms, she said, "One million pouches of Hair Air in the house."

Crew cheered. They'd worked from illustrations, the original sample pouches, factory photos and flat printed pouches. "Take home a supply, enjoy it, share it, take it."

Leaning against her office doorframe, Belle regarded Kate's jeans-clad bottom in her eye-line. She'd seen it bent over Ben's desk in pastel pink panties getting caned. Her dreams translated Kate's bottom into her own, thrashed for any mistake, panties smaller, strokes harder.

Her knowledge consumed her. Aware that a girl she knew, and respected, got punished pulsed pleasure into her sex whenever her brain wasn't busy. Her commute home brewed fantasies based on her mistakes. Her morning commute filled with pleasure at seeing Kate. Appointed as Human Resources manager by the beautiful co-founder, Kate was an unbeatable role-model.

Ben smiled at Hair Air pouches arrayed on his CFO's desk. Paying lawyers, he knew of their legal action. Ben described his court victory. News their legal expenditure was getting reimbursed pleased the financial man. Ben cast his gaze over the team nearby. They numbered twenty.

"I've hired your Asia Vice President. Nice guy," his CFO reported.

Ben smiled. "Thank you." Conversing over weeks, he'd explained their progress in domestic markets. An experienced executive, the guy would gear up Asian operations within months.

"I'm talking to your European guy. He needs guidance on his factory design. Can I send your factory consultant to Europe?"

"Great idea." Their CFO had lifted many enormous weights from his shoulders.

Heading to level twelve, Ben entered their official reception. Spotlit, a massive Hair Air pouch adorned the largest wall. Slim-necked, a color wave splashed across the white background. Royal blue through aqua transitioned to rich green. Tumbling down and twisting, the attention grabbing wave rose from bright yellow into warm orange, spraying vibrant red dew drops. He'd never challenged Kate's iconic design. About to land in girls' palms, he imagined them reading its words. 'Sensational in Seconds' presented his promise. 'Burst your bubbles' delivered a playful direction.

He smiled. Free of his legal burden, he enjoyed the welcome feel of his company. Created by Kate, his pouch, office, and crew motivated him afresh.

Grinning at their receptionist, he headed towards their technology team, seeking Neil. Hiring his friend, he'd disclosed the lawsuit. Taking Neil aside into his office, he explained his legal triumph.

"I knew you'd win," Neil said.

Ben cherished his faith. "It wasn't easy."

"Nothing ever is."

"Where do we stand?"

Neil pointed through his glass wall towards a short guy among his forty-strong team. "He handles internal technology, Wi-Fi, accounting systems, reporting, crew support."

"Alone?"

"I told him to hire two more."

Ben nodded.

"Come," Neil said. "It's easier to show you."

Ben followed his Chief Technical Officer. Settling beside a cluster of guys, Neil requested a membership demonstration. A long-haired, laid-back guy swiveled his chair, revealing their website on his wide screen. He walked Ben through, signing up to Hair Air, choosing a shipment every four weeks.

"What happens next?"

Neil said, "I've sent two team members to our factory. They're coding simple logic. It twists Hair Air memberships into instructions to dispatch Hair Air orders."

"Is it replicable in Asian and European factories?"

"Translation aside, our systems will be identical worldwide. Watch." Turning to his laid-back guy, he said, "Let it rip."

The hippy-ish guy said, "Here's our membership for our fictitious Alison. I'll hit confirm." He pointed to the TV screen suspended above their green corner couches. "Come."

Ben followed. He recognized the view. It was their factory one hundred miles south. Focused on the distribution line, he watched machines assemble thirty pouches of Hair Air into a neat stack, wrap them in white plastic stamped with their ubiquitous vibrant color wave.

They saw a blonde girl collect the unexpected package. Neil unmuted the video link. "Erika, read the address."

The girl looked up, startled, reciting the fictitious address they'd given 'Alison.'

"Awesome," Ben exclaimed.

The distant girl grinned.

"There are twenty-eight days in four weeks. Why send thirty pouches?"

A girl in the gathered tech crew said, "Imagine my post gets delayed. I've a party tonight. Shall I hate you, scream at you, or cry, after I've vented on social media?"

Ben nodded. "Damn fine point. Listen to her guys, you're not girls."

Under his compliment, she beamed.

It represented six percent product given away free for priceless trust. His technology was in perfect hands.

At 5pm, Kate crossed the ninth floor to her office. Drawing her blinds, she stripped, slipping into her black lace cocktail dress. Decorated in lace along its scooped neckline and down long sleeves, its teasing high hem offered glimpses of skin through further lace. Tailored to her curves, its simple appeal defined her. Sliding her feet into her three-inch patent heeled sandals, she buckled her ankle straps, her nude polished toes matching her immaculate nails.

Taking a real production pouch of Hair Air from her desk, she tore its top. Rubbing the orange circle where it said for ten seconds, she crushed her pouch, bursting a colorful cloud of Hair Air mist. Tiptoeing forward, she stood, coolness nestling her neck as Hair Air settled onto her chestnut tresses.

Hearing girls diving into restrooms, she offered her private office as a changing room. Taking the elevator to level twelve, she walked through reception towards the sliding glass terrace doors, eyes following her.

Resounding swishes heralded rhythmic drum taps. A guitar twanged, its partner joining the tune. On the terrace stage, a blonde swept the mic from its stand. In a tight black dress, she strutted the stage, her voice rocking their terrace audience of one. Smiling, Kate picked up her feet to the blonde's demanding tune. Dancing between tall tables, her heels and toes matched the perfect beat as she checked the hors d'oeuvres arriving from attractive wait staff.

Silver sandals sashayed towards hers. Her eyes slid up slender legs, over a tight, sparkling silver dress, to Belle's infectious grin. Matching their steps, they danced along the L-shaped terrace to the official dance floor. Layered over their decking, the hard wood square became their private stage. Faces watched from adjacent skyscrapers as they set their dance floor on fire.

Surrounded in seconds, tuxes swayed beside a profusion of pretty dresses. Intense pride permeated her heart. She'd created this. She saw Evan arrive, a stunning brunette on his arm. Whipping her head, she demanded he join her.

Evan met Kate's eyes. She'd asked for fifty million dollars where others quaked. His tapping toe demanded he follow her lead. Ignoring the champagne flutes, he pulled his girl onto the rocking dance floor.

Contagious excitement ripped Louise from Andrew's arm. Her brilliant green short shiny dress slithered over her unblemished bottom, dancing her towards Kate. Her last pouch of Hair Air deployed, she'd already spotted the overflowing cartons of fresh pouches. Hard decking extended the defined dance floor as crew stretched excitement along the terrace, watched on by waitresses, their offerings ignored.

Ben entered his terrace, feeling ten feet tall. The beat danced his tuxedo towards the action. Spotting Kate's chestnut tresses sparkling their perfection, he reached her as the lead singer stepped up the beat, driving the dance floor.

Warm evening air surrounded Hair Air crew and their partners. Kate drew Ben to the terrace edge. A waitress offered them champagne.

Sipping hers, Kate said, "I imagined this when I saw this office."

"Brilliant vision, co-founder."

Built on a setback, he admired the smaller building floors rising above their roof terrace. Patches of fake green grass broke up their space, square seating areas spread around, forming groups. Conversation flowed. The band swapped to the guitarists, their male voices giving the super-powered lead singer a break.

Sun settling into the sky, the band transitioned into a power-packed slow chord sequence, a drum roll accompanying Hair Air's CEO onto the stage.

Surveying early success, Ben said, "You're all stunning. At first, Kate believed in Hair Air. As her friends surrounded us, they solved problems. Louise provided the perfect pouches I'd sought. Diane can't be with us tonight. A commercial pilot, she's thousands of feet over the Australian outback. Her passionate choice of words named our product. In her honor, please raise your glasses to Hair Air."

Smiles spread champagne glasses into the air.

"Next, our financial backers believed in Hair Air. Thank you, Evan."

A light ripple of applause proved crew knew who paid their salaries.

"Money can't imagine, dream, plan, or deliver. That takes you. I believe in you."

A deep drum roll started its fresh, demanding beat, firing the super-charged blonde singer onto the stage as he withdrew. Prancing to center stage, she re-launched the passionate dance floor.

Ben held Kate close, watching a cute girl in a red dress accompany her boyfriend to a Hair Air carton beside the nearest seating area. Opening her red handbag, slung from her shoulder, she looked furtive as he scooped pouches into her limited space.

Breaking from Kate, he approached them. "Take it. Stock up."

"It's beyond awesome," the girl gushed, her fingers drawing attention to her hair. I tried it in the restroom earlier.

"I'm glad you're pleased. Are you on our crew?"

"I'm a professional dancer." She inclined her head. "He works for Neil."

Nodding towards the Hair Air carton, he said, "Grab an entire year's supply."

"You're sure?"

"Every girl should. It won't dent our stockpile."

Word of his view spread. His arm around Kate, they watched their spectacle. Plastic bags, backpacks, any available vessel got stuffed with Hair Air pouches.

Infused by the red-dress girl's enthusiasm, he watched her dance. A professional couldn't hide their talent. His synapses snapped into position, making crazy connections. He'd just envisioned their marketing plan, and it wasn't the multimillion dollar one sitting on his desk.