Knowing too much, sexual curiosity and dusky obsessions.
In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.
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‘‘People take for granted that they cannot see. If you don't think so, try not breathing.’‘
Having received Katrina's orders, off we went. Buffy looked worried and I thought she was going to tear me a new one. The reactions of the Executive Services group when we got there were totally unexpected.
‘‘Send out the word,’‘ Buffy detailed to the first worker she came across, ‘‘Madi made a run at Katrina.’‘
The woman blanched and headed off. Buffy took me to Katrina's office and pushed me onto the sofa. Paula and Fabiola appeared at the door looking worried.
‘‘How badly have I fucked up?’‘ I groaned.
‘‘What?’‘ Buffy blinked in surprise. ‘‘You did fine.’‘
‘‘I don't understand,’‘ I ran my hands through my hair.
‘‘You're bleeding,’‘ Paula remarked.
‘‘What happened?’‘ Fabiola demanded. Oh, crap. Another layer of the onion. The female 'new hires' weren't only new hires, they were legacies.
Buffy, for all her expertise and seniority, wasn't part of the program. I didn't think she was ignorant of the basic agenda. She simply wasn't allowed to know the full scope of the goings on. That was the real reason she and I were at the meeting; because we weren't part of the true conspiracy, thus politically neutral.
‘‘Cáel was attacked by Madi's assistant,’‘ Buffy said. I wanted to correct Buffy and say 'apprentice'. ‘‘He defeated her then defeated Madi when she attacked him, though it was a close thing.’‘ Oh yeah, Fabiola was part of the conspiracy. She gave this little smug smirk when Buffy got the relationship description wrong then was outraged that I would attack one of her elite.
Daphne sailed into the room, took one look at me then grabbed Paula.
‘‘Let's get him cleaned up,’‘ Daphne suggested.
‘‘He attacked Madi and her apprentice,’‘ Fabiola blustered; in Hittite. Daphne looked like she wanted to slap Fabiola. Then they all looked at me.
Had I turned away, I would have looked guilty. Instead I let my eyes flicker between the three.
‘‘What is it?’‘ Paula murmured to me.
‘‘You are speaking the same language they were speaking upstairs,’‘ I enlightened them. ‘‘I find that a bit odd.’‘
‘‘Don't mention that to anyone,’‘ Daphne threatened me.
‘‘No; you are not my boss,’‘ I glared. ‘‘Right now I'm working with Buffy and I am being mentored by Katrina. It is their right to know. Of course I can't talk to any outsiders about that because that violates corporate policy.’‘
‘‘How dare you,’‘ Fabiola came steaming my way.
‘‘Make the first one count,’‘ I seethed as I stood up and got ready to kick her entitled, pompous ass. ‘‘I've already put down two conceited bitches and you aren't even in their league.’‘ Fabiola stopped and reassessed her situation.
‘‘Cáel!’‘ Buffy snapped. ‘‘Come to my right side.’‘ There I went. ‘‘Kneel.’‘ I knelt. The three newbies were stunned, mouths open and gaping.
‘‘What; what was that?’‘ Daphne mumbled, referring to my actions. Buffy looked very haughty and superior.
‘‘Cáel works for me right now,’‘ Buffy told them. ‘‘That means, within the scope of his duties, he does what I say.’‘ The girls were taking in this bizarre scene. ‘‘Cáel, if I told you to go over to Fabiola and beat her black and blue, what would you do?’‘
‘‘I'd ask you for a good explanation,’‘ I answered.
‘‘She's hurting Katrina's position at Havenstone,’‘ Buffy responded. Up I stood. ‘‘Kneel,’‘ Buffy finished her demonstration as I knelt. She started running her hands through my hair. Not something you would do to a dog unless; well, you went that way. It wasn't like Katrina; this was highly sexually aroused hair-play. ‘‘I believe you said that Cáel needed to be cleaned up.’‘
‘‘Are you in pain?’‘ Daphne inquired.
‘‘A half bottle of Aleve wouldn't kill me,’‘ I groaned. I was in some serious pain, much of it centered on my cranium. Buffy moved me back to the sofa, which I liked. Her sensually stroking my palm was a bit scarier.
More women gathered around the door, whispering and looking my way. Finally Katrina came back to the office. The crowd parted for her. Daphne and Paula returned with some wet cloths and a first aid kit. Without consulting with me, they started peeling off my clothes.
‘‘What are you doing?’‘ Katrina stared at the two young ladies.
‘‘Tending to his wounds,’‘ Daphne hastily replied. Katrina rubbed her forehead.
‘‘For a moment try to imagine him doing that to you in a public place,’‘ she advised them. They caught on real quick and the strip-down stopped.
‘‘Cáel, may we tend to your wounds?’‘ Daphne politely requested.
‘‘Fine by me, but let's keep the pants on. I'll deal with the rug burns at home,’‘ I grinned.
‘‘I knew you boxed and practiced a form of jujitsu, Cáel,’‘ Katrina remarked. ‘‘I had no idea you were that good.’‘
‘‘I also practice ninjitsu,’‘ I tried to look innocent. ‘‘I tried to put that on my application, but auto-correct kept erasing it.’‘
‘‘Does he have a concussion?’‘ one of the normal workers asked Desiree.
‘‘No, unfortunately not,’‘ Desiree snorted. ‘‘He's always like that.’‘
‘‘Thank you for your martial valor in defending my prestige, Cáel,’‘ Katrina spoke loudly. ‘‘Your ability to navigate a very difficult situation bordered on the precognitive. It was of great service to the sisterhood of this office.’‘
‘‘Is there anything you need?’‘ she tacked on.
‘‘Gosh, it's almost four o'clock. Since I've been working since three this morning, can I go home early?’‘ I pleaded.
‘‘No, we are having dinner tonight,’‘ Katrina stated.
‘‘I actually have to clean up the apartment tonight,’‘ I lied. ‘‘Can I have a rain check?’‘
‘‘If you were under any delusion that I was making a request, let me dispel that right now. You are having dinner with me tonight,’‘ Katrina smirked.
‘‘Doesn't that violate;’‘ I mumbled.
‘‘End of discussion,’‘ Katrina declared. ‘‘Buffy and Helena, take Cáel to the Men's room and get him cleaned up and presentable. I need the (she then used 3 dead words), to stay behind. We have much to discuss.’‘ What did I get out of that little exchange? Buffy and Helena weren't part of the real Havenstone, Desiree was and the fact that naming status positions 'charioteer', 'archer' and 'shield maiden' in Old Kingdom Hittite only confirmed my worst fears.
You see, Achilles, Odysseus and their crowd knew these people. They'd frolicked and played with those troublesome Greeks then been raped, slaughtered and enslaved by them. Apparently after 3000 years, these ladies were still pissed about that. We only knew about them today from Greek sources. It stood to reason though, that since they were allies of Troy, they lived in Asia Minor, not Greece.
Therefore, they didn't speak Greek of any flavor. That was the language of their destroyers. No, the Amazons would speak the language of their home region from 3000 years ago, the native tongue for their rituals and secret communications, which just so happened to be Old Kingdom Hittite.
‘‘Tell me what happened,’‘ Helena requested while I was leaning against the Men's bathroom sink.
‘‘Rhada became bored, I was asked to alleviate her boredom with a game of Scrabble, and she didn't like my use of the word 'butt-monkey',’‘ I sighed. ‘‘She said it wasn't a word. I explained that she was, in fact, a butt-monkey and she took offense.’‘
‘‘Are you sure you don't have a concussion?’‘ Buffy studied my eyes.
‘‘Can I reliably determine my own mental malfunction? If so; I guess I'm good,’‘ I grinned.
‘‘What really happened?’‘ Helena repeated so I told them the whole story. This was the first time Buffy heard the whole thing in a language she could understand; English.
‘‘Why didn't you simply let her hit you that second time?’‘ Helena asked. Buffy nodded.
‘‘Seriously, you two need to get some backbone,’‘ I glared at them. They looked peeved. ‘‘Listen, those other ladies don't have the right to treat us like crap. We are not doormats, we are facilitators and fuck them if they don't appreciate our worth.’‘
‘‘Yet you bowed down to Hayden, Katrina and me,’‘ Buffy countered.
‘‘You are my bosses,’‘ I sounded exasperated. ‘‘I'm here to learn and that means listening to, and observing, those who have progressed farther than me. That means when you tell me to bow, I presume you have a good reason for it and do as I'm told.’‘
‘‘The other new hires don't kneel,’‘ Helena pointed out.
‘‘It's not my fault they are not as smart as me,’‘ I snickered. We all knew that was a lie.
‘‘I hope you make it,’‘ Buffy patted my knee. She didn't mean get fired. She meant she hoped I didn't get relocated. I didn't know what that meant yet, but I couldn't imagine it being a good thing.
I decided to press my luck.
‘‘You mean you hope I don't get relocated,’‘ I smiled. The two women shot worried looks at one another. ‘‘Ladies, I'm twice as smart as I look; well, that still might not be much, but I'm working on it,’‘ I chuckled.
‘‘What do you know about being relocated?’‘ Buffy prodded.
‘‘Nothing really. I do get this creepy feeling that if I get posted to a corporate holding in Paraguay, I probably won't end up in Paraguay,’‘ I shrugged.
‘‘Are you going to quit?’‘ Helena tag-teamed. She meant, 'are you going to make a run for it?'
‘‘Havenstone has corporate resources on all seven continents. Where am I going to go where some insidious Human Resources agent from the company won't hunt me down and try to make me reenlist,’‘ I teased them. Translation: I'm not dumb enough to think I can get away. They politely chuckled which meant they knew what I knew about my projected promotion path.
‘‘What are we going to do about your clothes?’‘ Helena altered course. Ugh.
‘‘I'll give Katrina official notification that we three are heading over to your place to let you change into something; better,’‘ Buffy decided. Better? This was my best suit, or had been.
Permission was granted and off we went. Surprise, surprise, security stopped me and got confirmation that I could actually leave the building. Next, we were mugged in the parking lot closest to my apartment building. Technically, it was a legal mugging because the criminal owned the lot from which he extorted the 'parking fee' from us.
I was curious to see if I could have the ladies wait in the hallway while I changed. Buffy noticed the fire escape and made sure she loudly pointed that out. In we went and sure enough, they followed me to the bedroom. I began going through my sparse business suit collection.
‘‘Those look dreadful,’‘ Buffy commented. ‘‘Where do you shop? Walmart?’‘
‘‘Sears,’‘ I corrected. Buffy looked cruelly amused.
‘‘You work for a Fortune 500 company and you shop for your clothes at Sears?’‘ she mocked me.
‘‘I'm not very good with money,’‘ I laid out my second best/now best suit. ‘‘I blew all of last month's paycheck on the Ferrari, Catalina 470 and Gulfstream. Stupid, eh?’‘ We both knew I hadn't been paid yet.
‘‘What did you do with your signing bonus?’‘ Helena plopped down on my bed. ‘‘Hey, this is lumpy.’‘
‘‘I killed a hobo for it,’‘ I teased. ‘‘I take no responsibility for whatever diseases you might pick up from sitting on that overly pretentious compost heap.’‘ It actually wasn't all that bad. ‘‘Besides, what signing bonus? Do you even know what college I attended?’‘
‘‘Ah; Brookstone,’‘ Buffy guessed.
‘‘I'll give you points for the 'B',’‘ I sighed. ‘‘I got the callback for Havenstone and fell on my knees and thanked God that I didn't have to go back to working nights as a repo man, or end up in retail sales, food services, or custodial work. Done them all; not fun, believe me.’‘
‘‘You appear to be a pretty smart guy,’‘ Buffy gave me those 'come hither' eyes. ‘‘Why didn't you end up going to a better school?’‘
‘‘I was pretty much a jerk until my senior year. I could have done better but I was ignorant, ugly and lazy. I was happy to get into Bolingbrook,’‘ I related.
‘‘What is this?’‘ Helena held up a braid of red, blue and green ribbons. The top quarter was intertwined with the rest of the ribbons hanging free.
‘‘It's a heart cord,’‘ I replied. ‘‘Each knot is a sexual liaison.’‘ She counted out twenty-one.
‘‘Not bad,’‘ she gave me those sexy eyes.
‘‘The other three that I completed are in the closet,’‘ I winked back. She thought I was joking. I wasn't and soon enough she found that out.
‘‘What the hell?’‘ Helena regarded my handiwork dubiously.
‘‘Oh yeah. I think I slept with half women in my college town between the ages of 18 to 70, students and faculty included,’‘ I enlightened them.
‘‘That seems like a large group of women,’‘ Buffy examined the braids held aloft by Helena. ‘‘Are you some sort of Casanova?’‘
‘‘It is more like I have an out of control libido,’‘ I admitted rather shame-faced.
‘‘Tell me again why you didn't jump me yesterday?’‘ Buffy looked miffed.
‘‘You are my boss, it was an obvious trap, and you bow hunt predators and rip out their teeth. That last bit combined with that aforementioned problem with my libido; ,’‘ I grinned sheepishly. ‘‘I wanted to keep my job; and my life.’‘
‘‘Do you think I'd shoot you for a sexual indiscretion?’‘ Buffy postulated.
‘‘Do you want my honest assessment?’‘ I looked into her golden eyes.
‘‘Yes,’‘ she smiled warmly.
‘‘You, and by that I mean Havenstone, are a bunch of raving psychopaths masquerading as feminists who use economic exploitation to cover up your numerous crimes,’‘ I unloaded.
The two women looked at one another then started giggling.
‘‘We like you,’‘ Helena walked up and patted my chest.
‘‘I'm glad Katrina chose you,’‘ Buffy added. ‘‘Let's go buy you a suit, or three.’‘
‘‘I'm glad to see my ranting has had no effect on our relationship whatsoever,’‘ I observed.
They let me dress, under their watchful eyes, into jeans and a t-shirt. Arm in arm, they led me from my home across town to a clothier who regularly did business with Havenstone.
‘‘Don't you think it is unfair to put a man in restrictive clothing before the hunt? Don't we at least get a sporting chance to run?’‘ I joked.
‘‘I can kill a bounding deer at 50 meters. Running won't help you,’‘ Buffy informed me.
‘‘Well, I've hunted moose before,’‘ I countered.
‘‘What did you use?’‘ Helena asked.
‘‘A hammer,’‘ I smirked. ‘‘I'm a real caveman.’‘
‘‘How did that work out for you?’‘ Buffy played along.
‘‘How do you think? I sobered up, realized I was hunting a 600 kg monster with a ballpeen hammer, ran my naked ass back to the car and drove home,’‘ I chuckled.
‘‘You are smarter than you look,’‘ my female tailor muttered.
‘‘Why were you naked?’‘ Buffy looked at my reflection in the three-sided mirror.
‘‘We won the lacrosse finals,’‘ I told them.
‘‘Were you on the team?’‘ Helena inquired.
‘‘Bolingbrook only has a Women's Lacrosse team,’‘ I sighed happily.
‘‘So why were you the one who ended out in the woods, alone, naked, hunting a moose?’‘ Buffy mused.
‘‘I repeat, we won the finals,’‘ I winked, ‘‘and I never said I was alone.’‘
‘‘Is this your fabled libido you've been talking about?’‘ Buffy teased.
‘‘Three or four beers and my inhibitions fly right out the window,’‘ I lamented.
‘‘Right,’‘ Buffy shoved me; not fun when a woman is adjusting your inseam.
‘‘When is your trash day?’‘ Helena came out of nowhere.
‘‘Why do you ask?’‘ I gazed at her.
‘‘I'm thinking about a place closer to work,’‘ she lied pathetically.
‘‘Oh come; wait, you looked in my trash can,’‘ I gasped. Helena had the decency to blush. ‘‘Three days ago,’‘ I admitted.
‘‘Oh my God;’‘ she blurted out. ‘‘You've been murdering a box of condoms.’‘
‘‘How is this work related, or in any way not to be confused with sexual harassment?’‘ I stated.
‘‘I'm okay,’‘ Buffy smiled. ‘‘Helena, how many? Besides, do you feel sexually harassed?’‘
‘‘Gross, Buffy; I didn't pick them out. I don't feel harassed either, not really. I feel that getting our new intern to open up and talk about his life experiences is a real team-building success,’‘ Helena beamed sexual menace my way.
‘‘Hold on,’‘ I grumbled. ‘‘Buffy, yesterday you were setting me up for something and today, you set me up to fail at the board meeting. Helena, I didn't even know you two hours ago. So why are you both so comfortable busting my balls?’‘
‘‘Cáel, yesterday and today until three o'clock this afternoon, you didn't belong,’‘ Buffy told me.
‘‘I don't understand the whole picture yet, but you fought and bled for Katrina. You didn't even know that this male internship program was her and Tessa's idea,’‘ she enlightened me. ‘‘You provided evidence their proposal had merit without understanding what you were doing.’‘ I hesitated a while as I took Buffy's interpretation of events in.
‘‘Hmm; yay us?’‘ I offered. ‘‘I'm not going to insult you by pretending that what happened this afternoon was anything but leagues beyond the ordinary. I also resent the hell out of Katrina ordering me to have dinner with her; it goes against policy and is plain wrong.’‘
‘‘She stood up for you today, Cáel,’‘ Buffy pointed out. ‘‘I don't think you truly appreciate the gesture.’‘
‘‘What I do appreciate is that as screwed as I am, I'm still better off than you two,’‘ my look hardened.
‘‘How do you come to that conclusion?’‘ Helena snickered.
‘‘Really? Well, I hope you both like Fabiola because in a few years she is going to be ordering you both around,’‘ I reasoned.
‘‘It doesn't matter that Buffy; I don't know you Helena; is more competent and capable. Fabiola is going to end up on top and you two will still be picking up the laundry. What makes me better than you two is that I know this to be true and you two still think you can be rock stars when all you'll ever be is roadies,’‘ I explained.
‘‘That's absurd,’‘ Helena snorted.
‘‘Please believe me, it isn't something you two have done. You haven't screwed up. Fabiola; she seems to be what's wrong with Havenstone. She's an arrogant know-it-all who doesn't listen to the Goddamn professionals she's been sent to learn from,’‘ I continued.
Whenever you separate people into groups, a rift develops. There is not necessarily friction; unless someone upsets things and that was what I was trying to do. I wasn't trying to topple Havenstone. That was a pipe dream. All I was looking for was some allies who had my back. If I asked for more than that, Buffy and Helena would turn on me.
They were both smart women. That was one of the reasons they had been recruited, along with their stunning good looks and willingness to treat men like pets.
‘‘Fabiola's acting did suck,’‘ Buffy giggled. ‘‘Goddess, that was pathetic, wasn't it?’‘
‘‘What happened?’‘ Helena leaned forward. Fabiola was rubbing the staff the wrong way alright.
‘‘She asked 'where is everybody'; after she stepped in the room,’‘ Buffy rolled her eyes.
‘‘I pity you,’‘ Helena nodded. ‘‘Daphne's working out well for me. She's trying really hard.’‘ A barrier had been breached. They were talking shop; the real Havenstone; in front of me. I had graduated from 'test subject' to actual male intern; emphasis on the male.
They were no longer upset that a male had set foot into their world. I clearly 'knew my place' though they hadn't even known what that was on Monday morning. Despite my badly biased work reviews, I was able and willing to work. More importantly, I obeyed while doing the aforementioned things.
I was not a threat if all they had to do was tell me to 'stop', 'stand by my side', and 'kneel'. Better yet, from their own sexually driven side, I could remain a man while doing so. I was slavishly devoted to the hierarchy yet didn't take crap from others. I could fight and bleed for them while they remained in complete control. In their ferocious world, I was a 'safe' predator.
The fact that these ladies picked up bows and hunted down predators wasn't lost on me. I would never be truly safe among them, nor would I ever be accepted into their world. I was, at best, a bystander they reluctantly allowed to observe their wickedness.
‘‘Done,’‘ the tailor announced. ‘‘Don't go sprinting across Central Park and you should do fine.’‘
‘‘Come by tomorrow morning and I'll finish the work,’‘ she offered.
‘‘Work up five more suits for him,’‘ Buffy ordered in an off-handed manner. ‘‘We'll pick them up tomorrow afternoon.’‘
‘‘Two o'clock,’‘ the lady tailor nodded.
‘‘How in the heck am I going to get here at two?’‘ I whispered to Helena. She flicked my nose.
‘‘Put it in an order with Executive Services, you Idiot,’‘ she mocked. ‘‘You know; where you work.’‘ Okay, I had walked into that one. I looked suitably ashamed. We were given my old clothes in a bag and headed out. Dinner with Katrina wasn't for a half hour so we decided to walk around.
My new shoes were killing me so, of course, we were taking a long walk.
‘‘Why does Havenstone; a female-only company; have an account with a men's clothier?’‘ I wondered.
‘‘They do both men's and women's suits,’‘ Helena offered.
‘‘How silly of me,’‘ I glanced her way. ‘‘It stands to reason they would have women's suits in my size, with my shoulder span and corresponding pants; and shoes.’‘
‘‘Be careful,’‘ Buffy snickered. ‘‘He's clever.’‘
‘‘So?’‘ I prodded. The two exchanged looks. Apparently they decided I was never getting away.
‘‘Most of the Havenstone 'men' can't be trusted to tie their own shoes, much less buy their own clothes,’‘ Buffy confessed. She gauged my reaction. I had little doubt I paled at the news.
‘‘Shit!’‘ I exclaimed. The two jumped. Maybe they thought I had changed my mind and was going to make a break for it after all. ‘‘My bike is at work,’‘ I informed them.
‘‘How am I going to get to work tomorrow?’‘ I groaned.
‘‘Oh; I'll come by early and pick you up,’‘ Buffy slapped me on the back.
‘‘I could stay the night instead,’‘ Helena offered.
‘‘On the hobo bed?’‘ I reminded her.
‘‘Good point,’‘ Helena shrugged. ‘‘Buffy, on Day 83 we need to get him a new mattress.’‘
‘‘Nice,’‘ Buffy agreed. Day 83? Oh; fuck. My internship lasted 84 days; 3 times 28. For some now less arcane reason, Havenstone used a 28 day cycle for all their business. Two things usually kept to a 28 day calendar; the Moon and menstrual cycles.
There was no good way to inquire exactly when my officemates had 'that time of the month'. I was tuning into the fact that they might all do it at once; that whole female hierarchy thing. For a few days every woman in my section would be exhibiting a plethora of emotions, few of which were positive to my way of thinking.
I knew that not all women were 'on the rag' during that time period. Some had little reaction. Most times, I wasn't so lucky. There was spontaneous rage, tears, loneliness and, yeah, horniness. I'd been through them all. My favorites were the ones who randomly leapt through the kaleidoscope of emotions with no sense, or rhythm.
I've had a woman try to brain me with a vase then fuck me on the shards; all inside of twelve seconds. Maybe I shouldn't have slept with her roommate, or her dorm advisor. I repeat, I'm a great lover, but a lousy boyfriend. Hell, I've even had sex with a girlfriend's mother; within ten minutes of meeting her. While those two were having a screaming fit, I did her little sister too.
I don't think I seduced them. I looked at them. They looked at me. We both suddenly realized we wanted to have sex. That happens to me a lot. This is probably why I ended up at Havenstone; karmic payback for my promiscuous ways. Or, maybe I did get it right and Tessa Carmichael really did want to come across that interviewer's desk and fuck my brains out.
There I was thinking that ravishing my future employer's point woman would cost me the job. Wait; that's probably how they wrangled Khalid. They flashed him some smoking tits and ass, he went all 'jungle fever' on them and ‘‘Bang!’‘ some girl was crying rape, and they had witnesses and footage. Khalid was looking at his whole magnificent life going down the tubes.
Then his boss agreed to help him because he was 'invaluable'. If he requested an out-of-country transfer, she could mislead the criminal investigation thus saving himself and his family's reputation. When it was safe to come back, she'd let him know. Now that smug, superior bastard was in Angola, or maybe Terra del Fuego with my penguins; wearing a shock collar.
Ignoramus. Seven to fifteen in a comfy US prison would have been paradise considering what he was about to go through. Run away? The moron probably still thought he was facing rape charges back in the States and that if he played along, his boss, who clearly thought the world of him, would call him home soon. I hoped I never saw him again.
Not because I hated him; I didn't; but because if I did see him it meant I'd colossally fucked up as well. I was sure Katrina was going to determine my fate at dinner. All of that came to a head when they showed me the door of a private dining club. The maître de recognized Helena and Buffy, but not in a way that suggested they were acceptable patrons (aka lackeys).
‘‘Ms. Love's table?’‘ I requested. Buffy patted me on the back again and wished me luck. The maître de was a man and a right snooty bastard, too. He looked down his nose at me from his elevated perch. He hand-motioned a female server over, gave her a table number and sent us on our way.
‘‘Did they forget to remove his jalapeno enema again?’‘ I teased the girl as we left.
She coughed, stumbled then shot me a wickedly happy look. This guy had to be a peach to work for because she clearly hated him.
‘‘You can talk to me,’‘ I told her quietly. ‘‘I'm not going to freak out, or anything.’‘ She looked at me and smiled again.
‘‘I haven't seen you before,’‘ she whispered back.
‘‘I have a very forgettable face. I've seen you before,’‘ I replied. She seemed confused. ‘‘You are the girl of my dreams,’‘ I grinned.
‘‘I'm married,’‘ she brandished her banded ring finger.
‘‘He's a lucky man,’‘ I sighed. ‘‘I hope he appreciates this snobbish hell you work in on a daily basis.’‘ She studied me which was all the more remarkable because she was navigating the floor while doing so.
‘‘I'm not married and I don't work EVERY day,’‘ she gave me a cute grin. ‘‘The ring is camouflage.’‘
‘‘Pen?’‘ I asked. She grew nervous because we were at Katrina's table and Katrina was looking us both over. ‘‘Ms. Love is my boss. We are not romantically involved,’‘ I assured the waitress. The woman gave me her pen and I wrote my number on her palm. ‘‘If you feel like it.’‘
‘‘You don't even know my name,’‘ she tried to look upset yet settled on precocious.
‘‘You don't know mine,’‘ I countered. ‘‘It is Cáel Nyilas, by the way.’‘
‘‘I'm Odette Sievert,’‘ she smiled. She took my drink order then sashayed away. I sat down opposite Katrina. The lady was smirking at me. In a flash, she grew deadly serious.
‘‘How?’‘ she redefined intensity for me. I wish it hadn't been in Hittite.
‘‘Excuse me?’‘ I responded. I was afraid I knew exactly what she was asking for me to both admit to and explain. Katrina's eyes were flinty and heartless.
‘‘I really don't want to repeat myself, Cáel,’‘ she said in a chilling voice. ‘‘You trusted me this afternoon. Trust me now.’‘
‘‘How far am I going to get if I get up and walk away right now?’‘ I sipped my water.
‘‘What makes you think I mean you any harm?’‘ Katrina asked.
‘‘You are evil,’‘ I began to match her gaze. ‘‘You are all evil fucking caricatures of human beings; monsters really.’‘
‘‘The worst thing about you is that you don't think you are like the rest. You think you are somehow more humane yet you don't have a fucking clue what that means,’‘ I accused her. ‘‘The 'how' is really tragic. The woman who took my virginity, my first love, devoted her life to the study of Near Eastern Ancient cultures.’‘
‘‘Not the early city-states, or the well-worn Greeks; she spent her life delving into the first nation-empires including, obviously, the Old Kingdom and Neo-Hittites. She didn't care about ruins; she loved the literature, art and culture of those people. She would read me poetry in a dozen dead languages. Later she taught me those tongues so I could let her hear those words in a voice not her own,’‘ I continued.
‘‘By the spring, we would walk around her house all weekend speaking only in voices long stilled by the passage of time. She loved that. To her, it was the closest she'd get to being in some ancient marketplace; Babylonians haggling with Egyptians over beeswax, Assyrians arguing religion with Phoenicians, and Hittites and Cretan lovers sparring with poetry,’‘ I fondly recalled.
Katrina's gaze had slowly softened until it became a mixture of wonder and envy.
‘‘She sounds like a remarkable woman. Why did this not come up in your background search?’‘ she questioned.
‘‘I listed her as an acquaintance,’‘ I said.
‘‘I never took any of her courses since that would have threatened her job. I didn't hide anything. If anyone asked me if I spoke any dead languages, I don't recall it,’‘ I softened as well. ‘‘You have to admit that it is rather bizarre that I am one of a dozen men in the United States that knows the language of the Amazons and I ended up in that board room.’‘
‘‘Amazons,’‘ she said in Old Kingdom Hittite. ‘‘You really figured it out.’‘
‘‘It took me a while,’‘ I responded in the same lingo. Katrina jolted. It then occurred to me she'd never heard her native language spoken by a male. In English, ‘‘that's when I realized you were all raving psychotic lunatics and if I didn't play along, I was going to be murdered.’‘
‘‘So all that obedience and kneeling was an act?’‘ Katrina studied me.
‘‘The respect wasn't false. I do admire you. You are rather pleasant to work for, but it is telling that not one of your group realized that an outsider male wouldn't act the way I did,’‘ I related.
‘‘I was hoping there was a foundation for my project,’‘ Katrina sighed.
‘‘There is,’‘ I asserted. ‘‘Body posturing and obedience are normal, healthy male activities, Katrina. The military and Boy Scouts are built on it. All you have to do is create something males can believe in. Loyalty and obedience will follow.’‘
‘‘The problem is my culture takes a dim view of male martial activity,’‘ Katrina informed me.
‘‘You only got away with your actions today because the others believed; mistakenly believed; you were obedient to me,’‘ she reinforced my view.
‘‘What makes you think I wouldn't obey you again?’‘ I countered.
‘‘Would you?’‘ she mused.
‘‘Do I still have a job?’‘ I gave a lopsided grin.
‘‘Yes. Is that what motivates you? Pay?’‘ she studied me.
‘‘Katrina, you do not understand men,’‘ I chuckled. ‘‘There is not enough money in the world to make me keep this job.’‘ Katrina looked menacing once more.
‘‘I'll show up to work tomorrow because if I make a run for it, the others will take it out on you,’‘ I enlightened her. ‘‘You saved my life today; twice. You risked your social position by intervening on my behalf and I imagine there are some freaking stiff penalties for not telling your sisters that I know Old Kingdom Hittite.’‘
‘‘Very true,’‘ she admitted. ‘‘My sisters would not be pleased. It is also nice to have confirmed my thoughts about the 'New Directive'. Men can be trained to be helpmates and stand at our sides, even if it is a half-step behind.’‘ She contemplated some things. ‘‘Why do you consider us evil?’‘
‘‘You are holding onto a blood-feud for three thousand years even though the genetic descendants of those crimes have most likely died out eons ago. You use your hateful, paranoid religion to justify every atrocity under the Sun. What is even more insane is that your activities are no longer warranted. There are places around the globe where you can live freely, own property and have all the legal protections enjoyed by men,’‘ I stated.
‘‘The majority of the globe is still dangerous for us,’‘ Katrina reposed. ‘‘Even in this country, women are enslaved, brutalized and murdered simply for being the 'weaker' sex.’‘
‘‘If you are waiting for a perfect world all I have to ask is 'when will it be my time?'‘‘ I regarded her sadly. It was obvious to both of us I was in a hopeless position. My fate was in her hands.
‘‘Come home with me tonight,’‘ Katrina ordered.
‘‘No,’‘ I replied. ‘‘It is against corporate policy. You'll have to wait 82 days like the rest.’‘
Katrina snorted, snickered then laughed out loud.
‘‘Remembering that we have to explain things to you men will be an exasperating experience for most of us,’‘ she chuckled. Katrina motioned Odette over, signaling our conversation was over for now.
The 16 oz. Porterhouse steak was heavenly and I made sure to keep the beer-drinking down to two steins. Katrina teased me about my appetite though she was no slouch. I explained that I'd need my strength; I was having sex tonight. She insinuated I was conceited. I laughed. Short of her embarrassing Odette, our waitress was going to be waking up at my side come dawn.
As we prepared to depart, the office called. I had a client appointment; with Rhada. She was going to pick me up at my place. I imagined that the addresses of the other employees was rather confidential. Rhada was a 'somebody' and I was only a male. I didn't bother asking Katrina to intervene. This was my job. She was respectful enough not to inquire one last time if I'd make a run for it.
A taxi got me home and I took the stairs three at a time, racing up to my apartment. My keys worked the lock. I heard the TV on and it was loud. I was moving through our cramped common area on the way to the bedroom.
‘‘Timothy,’‘ I greeted my roommate, ‘‘I'm expecting a client to come by any minute, so don't be surprised if some bossy chick shows up and treats you like crap.’‘
‘‘Let me guess,’‘ Timothy mused. ‘‘A late teen/early twentyish, long black hair in a braid, the complexion of Southern India, clearly exercises with B-cup breasts and sweet ass.’‘
‘‘Ah; yeah?’‘ I worried.
‘‘Oh, she came by thirty minutes ago. She's bound up, naked and gagged on your bed, waiting for you.’‘
‘‘What the fuck!’‘ I screamed. ‘‘I'm dead. Hell, you are probably dead too.’‘
‘‘Nah,’‘ Timothy smirked. ‘‘This was how it was going to end up anyway. All I did was save you the anxious and pointless foreplay. Go in there and fuck her silly. You'll have to change the sheets; she's gushing.’‘
I rushed into my room. Sure enough, Rhada was nude, her hands bound behind her back by black leather cuffs, as were her ankles. She had a bright orange ball gag, secured with black straps, in her mouth and her eyes were bombarding me with a deadly furor.
‘‘Shit, Rhada, I'm sorry. My roommate doesn't know who you are,’‘ I pleaded. I crawled onto the bed and pulled down the ball gag.
‘‘I'm going to fucking kill you,’‘ she screamed. ‘‘I'm going to cut out your heart and shove it down your throat. You are so fucking dead, you Asshole! I'm going to slice;’‘ I put the ball gag back in place and staggered out to see Timothy. I tossed my coat and tie aside then sat down beside him.
‘‘I can't begin to describe how massively screwed we are,’‘ I muttered. Timothy sidled down the sofa and put his arm around my shoulder. I wasn't worried. Timothy respected my life choices.
‘‘Brother, trust me. That girl came over to be tied down and fucked. My Ex was really into that, so I recognized the signs,’‘ Timothy consoled me.
‘‘You are worrying about nothing. Trust me. Hammer her the way you did that flight attendant on Saturday and she'll leave here with a bounce in her step,’‘ Timothy chuckled. ‘‘Oh, she'll act bitchy, but when she makes for the stairs, she'll look back and smile at you. I'd bet my life on it.’‘
‘‘We are, you knucklehead,’‘ I sighed. I returned to my bedroom. I wasn't a rapist. Power games were games, not something I got off on. Determining how to get out of my personal tragedy was short-circuited by Rhada herself. Her look was still as lethal, her body was still struggling against her bonds, and a teardrop of vaginal fluid was making it down the crease between her ass and thigh.
I turned around and walked back to Timothy, who looked amused.
‘‘Did she bring any weapons?’‘ I inquired.
‘‘Yeah, this decent double-edged blade,’‘ he nodded. ‘‘On the counter.’‘ I went to the kitchenette, retrieved the sheathed knife; an early 20th century ceremonial creation, I guessed; and returned to Rhada. I shut the bedroom door and locked it.
‘‘Well, Rhada,’‘ I leered. ‘‘Katrina is probably going to kill me for this. I might as well tear some enjoyment out of you before I die.’‘ I brandished the sheathed blade. Rhada's eyes grew wide with arousal and fear. I slowly stripped myself bare. Rhada's eyes feasted on my physique. She didn't even try to hide her fascination.
After I crawled over her body, the knife was unsheathed and the point pressed to her neck. Rhada moaned through her ball-gag. I leaned down and kissed her cheek.
‘‘Rhada, I am going to despoil you,’‘ I whispered, my lips only millimeters away. ‘‘I'm going to wreck your body.’‘ The tip of the knife migrated down her chest, between her breasts in an achingly slow process.
Four years of some serious sexual exploration told me Rhada was on the cusp. My free hand moved unseen until it hovered over the juncture between her ass cheeks and thighs. I rammed two fingers into her, praying she wasn't a virgin. She wasn't, my intrusion sent her off into convulsions and I yanked the knife away to keep her safe from the blade.
As her orgasm spent itself a final series of tremors, I rolled Rhada onto her stomach and began spanking her. First she gasped then gave forth furious, but muted, declarations. The moaning started with a few stifled utterances. I broke off the beating long enough to sheath the knife and put on a condom before resuming my play.
‘‘Now you get fucked, my slave; my prisoner,’‘ I taunted her. She moaned louder and sobbed. I pulled her up by her hips and unceremoniously shoved into her. It was snug, not tight. Her shudder of shame and pleasure pulsed throughout her body. A few rotations into her pleasure center and I realized the strain on her shoulders, neck and head had to be harsh.
I quickly decided that putting Rhada with her knees off the bed to make it easier on her. My withdrawal then rapid manhandling caught her off-guard. My resumption returned her to that state of bliss. I put my pinkie in my mouth, got it nice and slick, then began wiggling it against Rhada.
Her protestations were more verbal than physical though she winced when I actual pushed in to the first knuckle. That accomplished, I began to mercilessly pound and tease for thirty minutes, until she was unresponsive. I took the break to lay out some more condoms; and answer my bedroom door. Timothy had a bagel in his mouth and a box of 'toys' in his arms.
He shoved it at me, mumbled something that could have been 'get to work', laughed and lastly shut the door. A quick sniff test suggested the goodies were clean. A few clearly contravened the UN Accords on Human Rights so I hid them away. I wasn't sure what would have been worse: Rhada freaking out when she saw them, or begging for one to be used on/in her.
The vibrators checked out, the lube seemed reasonably fresh and clamps, lash and paddles were in working order. Rhada moaned softly when I began working the blue, ribbed dildo into her. Even after it was deeply in place, she didn't react much. Only when the smaller, more flexible companion dildo began, did she come around.
Rhada frantically thrashed around in a futile effort to save her back passage.
‘‘How wretched does a woman have to be to submit to a man forcing something up her?’‘ I teased her softly. ‘‘What would Madi think if she could see you like this, giving up your pleasures like some breeding bitch?’‘
Rhada's resistance turned feeble and I could tell she was crying. I finished pressing the second dildo up her, before turning them both into vibrators. Her whole body was wrapped up in the throes of passion. I got off the bed, retrieved my phone then moved around so she could see me.
‘‘Say 'I'm a harem-slut',’‘ I mocked her. The humiliation-driven climax overwhelmed any semblance of self-control she might have retained.
I kept taking pictures and verbally tormenting her as I described each scene. Rhada began choking and jerking as if she was in a seizure. I was on her in a flash, pulling the gag off and pulling her wet, sweaty hair away from her face. I then cut off both vibrators and carefully removed them. It took her several minutes to recover enough to do anything.
‘‘Kill me,’‘ she feebly pleaded. ‘‘Kill me and end my shame.’‘
‘‘I haven't finished tormenting you, Rhada,’‘ I replied compassionately. ‘‘A woman as proud, noble and fierce as you would never fold up after just one battle. Are you giving up?’‘ The junior Indian struggled to focus on me.
‘‘No,’‘ she croaked. I reached down, fondled her, then grabbed and pinched her. Rhada winced.
‘‘Do you surrender?’‘ I taunted her. Rhada shook her head negatively. ‘‘Lucky for me, I have clamps, paddles and a crisp lash just for you.’‘ Rhada's eyes grew wider, her heart rate quickened and her jaw set.
(Later)
Rhada was splayed out on the bed, staring at the ceiling. With the raw, swollen appearance of her nipples, I didn't envy Rhada putting on her sports bra. She had raised lash marks over her ass, thighs and back. It had taken me a few tries to figure out what was a glare (not hard enough), an orgasmic squeal (right on the money) and 'Argh!' (too much).
She had carried a freight-load of sexual frustration into my apartment and I'd worked through a healthy dose of it. I had no illusions we were done. I did know we were done for the night, though. I put on some pajama shorts and left the room. When I came back, she propped herself up on both elbows and seethed hate/lust at me.
I tossed her clothes at her.
‘‘Get dressed,’‘ I commanded. She exuded defiance. ‘‘In five minutes you are going to be on the street. If you want to be naked, that's on you. I'm finished with you.’‘ The last bit was like a slap to her face. ‘‘For tonight,’‘ I added. That did the trick. She wanted more of her Enslaved Amazon Rape fantasy.
Rhada dressed. She pretended not to notice me soaking up her beauty with undisguised hunger and I pretended not to notice her arousal under my gaze. When she finished, Rhada slipped to the edge of the bed and placed her feet on the floor. I handed her a glass of crushed ice. She had to be parched.
She drank and chewed on the ice while her eyes tried to gauge my mood. When she was mostly finished with the ice, I half turned and retrieved her blade; sheathed, of course. She appeared uncertain until I crossed my left arm level with my torso. I slapped the scabbard down on the arm, pommel toward Rhada. According to a movie I'd seen once, this was supposed to be the honorable thing to do.
Rhada gingerly reached for the pommel as if expecting me to yank it away. Once she held the pommel, she took hold of the scabbard with the other hand and drew the blade. Finally she stood up.
‘‘Give me the phone,’‘ she demanded.
‘‘No,’‘ I replied in a bored tone.
‘‘I'll kill you if you don't,’‘ she threatened.
‘‘There are no pictures, Rhada,’‘ I let my eyes run over her body once more. ‘‘Every image of you that I need is right up here,’‘ I tapped my temple.
‘‘The feel of your enticing flesh, your erotic sounds and your intoxicating scents are here if I need them and, if I want new ones, I'll hunt you down and make more,’‘ I licked my lips and grinned.
‘‘Touch me again, I'll cut off your balls and burn them before your eyes,’‘ she threatened. I slapped the knife out of her hands, grabbed her upper arms and pulled her to me.
I savagely ripped a kiss from her lips, subduing her tongue and pressing her head back. I released her arms so that I could grasp her braid and a full ass cheek. Rhada groaned with a desperate hunger as she began humping. I maneuvered her body around despite her grunted protests. Her head was forced around so I could maintain my kiss while I ground against her.
Rhada tentatively stroked my hand holding her braid, suggestively leading my hand to her breasts. Feeling generous, I obliged and soon was mauling her through her silk blouse and bra. Right as I felt she was ready to gift me with one more pleasure, I pushed her face first on the bed. Her lustful gaze as she rolled over turned to frustration.
‘‘Time for you to leave,’‘ I commanded. She slithered off the bed, gave me a hateful glare, retrieved her knife and stormed out of the room. I followed laconically along because Timothy was under the impression we both might not be dead soon. Sure enough, at the stairs, Rhada turned and presented me with this wistful smile then left.
I walked back into my abode. Timothy chuckled.
‘‘I told you, Cáel,’‘ he rubbed it in. ‘‘Sometimes you pet that kitty and sometimes you spank it.’‘
‘‘For a man who truly appreciates a good phallus, you sure know a great deal about women's sexuality,’‘ I regarded my roomie as I sat beside him.
‘‘Bro, you would be astounded by the number of female strangers who spill their deepest, darkest secrets, fantasies and desires the second they find out I'm gay,’‘ Timothy explained. ‘‘I guess they don't think I'll be judgmental, or jealous.’‘
‘‘So you are a gay man who is a closet heterosexual?’‘ I joked. He punched me.
‘‘Give away my secret and next time, the nutjob will come in to find you trussed up on the bed,’‘ he countered. My phone rang. It wasn't work so I didn't weep.
‘‘Cáel Nyilas,’‘ I answered.
‘‘Cáel, this is Odette. I didn't wake you did I?’‘ she sounded chipper.
‘‘Wide awake. I just tossed an Indian princess out of the place after a marathon S and M session,’‘ I responded with the truth dressed up like a lie. ‘‘Do you want to do something tonight?’‘
‘‘What do you have in mind?’‘ she teased. She had to be thinking the whole 'Indian Princess' thing was a joke; poor, naive girl.
‘‘Before we make love, I'd like to give you a massage,’‘ I suggested.
‘‘You think I have sex on the first date?’‘ She wasn't pissed. They never were.
‘‘Girls have sex, women make love and our first date should involve doing something that convinces you to want a second date,’‘ I suggested. ‘‘We can discuss where you want to go on the first date after your first orgasm.’‘ There was a long pause.
‘‘Do you want me to come to your place?’‘ she asked.
I gave her my address. An added bonus was that I didn't have to worry about Buffy knowing where to pick me up in the morning.
‘‘Few men who are not professional escorts are so confident they can nail a woman a day,’‘ Timothy laughed. I looked him over. I hadn't had sex; Sunday night, or Monday.
‘‘Bitch, help me clean my room. Half of Rhada is your fault after all,’‘ I grumbled. That led to the discussion that Rhada had peed on my bed, flipping it over wasn't nearly enough and that a wastebasket with tissue wads and used condoms probably wasn't the message I wanted to send to this latest conquest.
Don't get me wrong. I wanted a first and second date with Odette. Usually, somewhere along the line, each girl figured out I was nailing one, two, or three other women and they got pissed. Then came the screaming, crying, yelling and various insinuations about my parentage and anatomy. Finally there was the breakup sex, her hating me (and herself) for the break-up and then another round of break-up sex so she could convince herself we were done.
That was usually it, discounting the 'showing up drunk at my door' sex, the 'I'm lonely and it's your fault' sex, and the 'let's get back together' sex. I've taken back a lady who stabbed me so I clearly have no common sense or morals. It's my damn libido, I swear. I'm really not some asshole who never returns their call, makes them sleep in the wet spot, or ignores their litany of life's woes. I like to think I'm better than that.
(Wednesday)
The phone rang. The clock was flashing 6:15. Odette snuggled up to me, making cute, happy cat-like noises. Timothy's bed was bigger than mine so I had to reach out to get my mobile device. For the tenth time, I silently thanked Timothy for switching bedrooms with me, though I believed he had chosen to sleep on the sofa instead.
‘‘Hello,’‘ I said quietly.
‘‘It's Buffy. I'll be there in fifteen minutes,’‘ she stated firmly.
‘‘I have a companion over,’‘ I hesitated. ‘‘Can you make it twenty-five?’‘
‘‘Who is that, Cáel Nyilas,’‘ Odette yawned. She liked the way my full name rolled of her tongue.
‘‘Who is that?’‘ Buffy grilled me.
‘‘She's a sweet young lady I met; the rest is none of your business,’‘ I told Buffy. To Odette, ‘‘It is one of my many bosses. After my 'auto accident' (I couldn't tell a stranger that some psycho bitch; who I had just screwed; had her mentor kick the shit out of me), she brought me home then deposited me at your workplace. My bike is still at work.’‘ I had told Odette I was a cyclist.
‘‘Does she think you are sexy?’‘ Odette giggled. I groaned.
‘‘81 days, Cáel,’‘ Buffy reminded me. ‘‘81 days,’‘ then she hung up. I wasn't getting my extra ten minutes.
‘‘Do we have time?’‘ Odette wiggled her whole body against mine.
‘‘I don't think so. Babe,’‘ I sighed. ‘‘All I can do is go down on you then I have to grab a shower and get dressed.’‘ Odette blinked, blinked again, then brightened up incredibly.
‘‘If that's all we can do,’‘ she exhibited no regrets as she hurled the covers back. It took me seven minutes to bring her to.
I was good, but I had also torn up Odette pretty badly last night. I had to buy Timothy some more condoms. I felt kinda bad for using the number I did. I raced to the shower, did a Wonder Woman (hold your arms out and spin around a few times in the shower), raced back to Timothy's room; Timothy shot me with his Nerf gun from the sofa (Odette was vocal); and began dressing.
‘‘Odette, stay and get some sleep,’‘ I stroked her cheek. ‘‘Timothy heads to work around ten, so if you could head out with him so he can lock up the place. Fix whatever breakfast you like. If it is Timothy, I'll make it up to him.’‘
‘‘You mean beyond letting us use his room?’‘ she fixed me with her feline eyes. I coughed.
‘‘Come on, Cáel Nyilas, this room is plastered with male Calvin Klein models and you have five copies of the Village Voice on your dresser. You are far too proficient with punching all my buttons to be gay,’‘ she pointed out.
‘‘Gay men can be very sexually proficient,’‘ I countered.
‘‘Cáel Nyilas (damn, she loved my name), you came five times. I lost track of how many orgasms I had. If you are gay, you aren't in De-Nile, you are in Ethiopia,’‘ she giggled. This wasn't the right moment to brag that I ejaculated eight times last night. Rhada filled up three condoms during our little escapade. I repeat, I have an out of control libido.
‘‘Gotta go,’‘ I straddled Odette and gave her a kiss. I deftly avoided the French grapple because I had the feeling that Buffy wasn't the kind to wait patiently.
‘‘Timothy;’‘ I mumbled as I sped to the door.
‘‘I know; girl; bed; sleeping,’‘ he groaned. As the door shut I heard him add, ‘‘at least he's not dull.’‘
I managed not to kill myself tumbling down the stairs in my haste to reach the street. Buffy was waiting and drumming her hands on the steering wheel. I tried the car door; it was locked. A tap on the window earned me a baleful glare. I sighed and fell on my knees.
‘‘Please,’‘ I begged. ‘‘Please, please, please let me in the car.’‘ I heard a click after ten seconds.
‘‘You're late,’‘ she remarked as we sped away. I hastily put on my seat belt.
‘‘I apologize,’‘ I tried being obsequious.
‘‘You had better be, damn it,’‘ she seethed. Oh; I scented arousal; and jealousy. We drove a few blocks in silence. ‘‘Who was it?’‘
‘‘Are we on the clock?’‘ I countered. Pause.
‘‘No,’‘ she said in a clipped tone.
‘‘None of your fucking business, then,’‘ I growled. ‘‘My sex life is none of your concern, Buffy. It is none of your group's concern, so give it a rest.’‘
‘‘Or what?’‘ Buffy's eyes narrowed. I wished she would watch the road.
‘‘Thunderdome, Bitch!’‘ I grinned. Oh, she tried. She tried really hard to stay angry with me.
‘‘I hate you,’‘ she snickered. She pulled out her phone and handed it to me. It was a picture of Buffy, Katrina, Tessa, Desiree and some woman who looked familiar standing, or kneeling, behind a pile of dead animals. All the ladies had bows, knives and camo gear.
‘‘Does the Audubon Society know about this? I'm pretty sure the World Wildlife Fund would have a freaking stroke,’‘ I nodded.
‘‘Ladies at Havenstone have a passion for killing things,’‘ Buffy measured me. ‘‘I thought you might want to know.’‘
‘‘Why do you use bows?’‘ I questioned. ‘‘Don't your boobs get in the way?’‘ Buffy smacked me in the chest; hard. I could have blocked. That would have been counterproductive. No, I grabbed her right boob and gave it a strong squeeze. In retaliation, she hit me again. I grabbed her boob. This went on until we entered the garage. She got in the last hit.
‘‘We are on the clock now,’‘ I notified her. She seemed less than pleased. ‘‘Very nice, by the way.’‘
‘‘Huh?’‘ Buffy studied.
‘‘Sorry. Any continuation of this conversation would constitute sexual harassment,’‘ I sighed.
‘‘I am mentally projecting negative emotions your way,’‘ Buffy grumbled.
‘‘I believe the totality of your efforts create a positive outlook for me,’‘ I grinned.
‘‘Have you ever been skydiving?’‘ Buffy dropped out of the blue on me in the elevator ride up.
‘‘With, or without, a parachute?’‘ I inquired. She blessed me with a feral smile.
To be continued in Part 3
By FinalStand for Literotica.