Cáel gets an offer that is too good to be true.
In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.
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‘People who forget their past are doomed to be blind-sided by it.’
Monday
I couldn't help but notice the similarity between myself and the other four new hires. We were all clean cut men, fresh out of college, fit and masculine. The 'men' part of the equation made sense. Havenstone Commercial Investments had come out of a long legal proceeding over their accused discriminatory policies.
An undisclosed settlement had been reached plus they agreed to implement this new program to hire more men. For me that meant an employment opportunity with a Fortune 500 company despite my rather underwhelming collegiate career. Don't get me wrong; I had good grades. I also went to a college virtually no one had ever heard of, Bolingbrook College in New Hampshire.
With me was Chinese-American Brian Fung from Harvard, blue blood Trent Grant from Carnegie-Melon, African-American Khalid Adzharia from MIT and Salvadoran-American Felix Melena from the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor. For starters, they all had far better academic pedigrees them me, nicer toys, and better looking suits.
The second they found out where I was from, I was dropped out of their conversation. They were bragging about their awards and accomplishments, their families and where they vacationed, professors who knew them on a first name basis and when they planned to get their master's degrees. Given time to take in our circumstances without the distraction of being part of their little club, something occurred to me.
We were all freaking gorgeous. I don't mean cultured, handsome, or attractive to the opposite sex. I meant every one of us would be hit on in a nightclub in under five minutes unless we had a significant other hanging all over us. I was getting a sinking suspicion about what Havenstone considered 'crucial' for job performance and it didn't have anything to do with what alumni we were now part of.
Here I was with my Father's dark good looks, my genetics an ancient blend of Bulgarian and Turkish with a recent addition of Irish Gaelic. My eyes, the legacy of my Mom, were a deep emerald green. The broad shoulders, narrow waist and powerful arms and legs were part heritage with a serious application of physical activity. I exercised constantly, swam whenever I could and cycling was my religion; the tougher the terrain, the better.
Better yet, the brainiacs around me hadn't seemed to figure that out yet. Maybe they thought I was a 'legacy' hire, I had a relative on the inside. Nope. Mom died when I was seven and my Dad worked for Illinois Power and Light as a line runner. His sister, Aunt Stella, was a crab fisherwoman in Maryland and unmarried.
A series of off-handed comments in the interview process suddenly came back to haunt me. I'd been asked about who I was close to, both presently and back in college. They wanted to know about my 'moral character'. Fuck it all, I'd filled out a dating survey! I'd never used a matchmaking service, but I bet if I logged on to E-Harmony, I'd recognize the questions.
The door to the conference room opened and seven women entered. Miss Tessa Carmichael had handled the interview process. Umami Lhasa was her Hindi assistant and all-around encyclopedia of all things Havenstone. The other five were unknown to me and, I had a feeling, unknown to my fellow new hires. We all stood. The other four smiled. I smiled too, but felt cautious.
‘Gentlemen, it is time to begin. Today we begin your internship process and I'd;’ Tessa got out before Fung interrupted.
‘I was given the impression we were guaranteed employment, Miss Carmichael,’ he spoke in a commanding voice. How stupid was this guy?
‘Academia is a sheltered environment, Mr. Fung. Havenstone is very much part of the real, visceral world and you can hardly expect to gain a six-figure salary with all the benefits based on your ability to impress men who have never created an iota of wealth in their lives,’ Tessa smiled. I hoped she eventually give it back to the orca she'd swiped it from.
‘I was entertaining offers from several other corporations as well,’ Trent added his voice. ‘We were guaranteed employment. Our contracts state so.’ He seemed proud of his ability to read. Trent should have boned up on reading between the lines.
‘Well, if you two wish to sign 'Termination of Employment' papers,’ Tessa sounded disappointed, ‘we will conceded to your wishes.’
At this point, the guys with a promising futures should have bailed. I didn't have options unless you considered 'do you want fries with that' to be a back-up plan. I was amazed the other four didn't see it.
‘What we really want is a clarification of what this internship process entails,’ Khalid intervened.
Tessa's smile became all happy bunnies again.
‘Very well,’ she appeared pleased, ‘let's start by introducing your mentors. Mr. Fung, Miss Julian Jameson has chosen you. She is our Senior VP in charge of Acquisitions, something you excelled in, I recall.’ Fung looked pleased. Julian was a foxy red-head somewhere in her mid-thirties.
‘Mr. Grant, you have been selected by Olympia Shore, head of our Financial Investigative unit.’ Greying hair yet she looked like she ran marathoners down on a regular basis; she was tall, fit and svelte. ‘I understand you showed a talent for forensic accounting,’ Tessa continued. ‘Mr. Adzharia, you have been chosen by Miss Phalli Chandra VP of International Finance.’
Where Khalid was patently African-American, his mentor was African, most likely central African, like Congo, or Cameroon. She was in her early thirties and sculpted in a way that made me think I wouldn't mind wrestling her even though I wasn't sure who would win. ‘You have an excellent grasp of linguistics as I recall.’
‘Mr. Melena, Miss Tia Pharos VP of Business Management has chosen to take you on.’ My bet she was Lebanese, or Palestinian, more Sematic than Aramaic. Still, her hair was thick, wavy and long, all the women seemed to go for the 'long hair' look for that matter. She was also the shortest mentor, perhaps one meter; seventy.
‘You have all around high marks in your education. We think you will be a perfect fit.’ He smiled as did Tia. I thought they were smiling for different reasons. Maybe that was paranoia. ‘Mr. Nyilas,’ that was me; Cáel Nyilas, ‘you have been selected by Miss Katrina Love, VP of Executive Services.’
I could hear the 'huffs' of my compatriots. Executive Services were basically gophers for the top tier of the corporation. ES was not the fast track to success. They got the limos and laundry for those who were. On the plus side, Katrina was a voluptuous blonde perhaps forty years of age, hitting all my key sexual triggers; basically, a conscious, breathing female. I didn't have low standards, I was a sexual omnivore.
Given the chance I'd seduce every woman I came across, though not here, not today.
After a short series of introductions, we split up to go to our various offices. It turned out that the mentor/internship relationship meant I would be working at her side, literally. I'd have a spot in her personal office for my work station, I would follow her to meetings and be on call 24/7 to assist her in all departmental duties.
‘Thank you for the opportunity,’ I said when she finally gave me the impression I could speak.
‘Aren't you disappointed you didn't get one of the plumb assignments; banking, or asset management?’ she inquired while studying me. The gentle hum of the elevator was the only other sound.
‘Hell, no,’ I blurted out then blushed. Katrina arched an eyebrow. ‘I mean, I think this is a great way to know the company. We get to go everywhere.’
‘I like your enthusiasm,’ she commented. I couldn't tell if it was a positive thing. Beyond that, she remained non-communicative until we made it to her ornate, spacious personal office.
Six young ladies followed us into the room, with the last one shutting the door.
‘Ladies, this is our latest hire; Cáel Nyilas,’ Katrina began. ‘He's from some college in New Hampshire and, like the rest of you new hires, will be expected be working closely with me and each other.’
Did I mention they were all hot? I was familiar with some of the looks I was getting, too. Once, in high school, I had asked out the Class president who happened to be rich, pretty and smart. Her boyfriend had cheated on her so I thought I had a chance. I was a working class nobody and the look she gave me hurt as much as her words.
‘Never in a million years,’ she mocked loudly. I was an insect, a bug and way beneath her notice. That was the look I was getting from these girls. Four years later, my acne was gone, I'd filled out nicely and physically I had gone from caterpillar to butterfly. That led to the other half of the vibes aimed my way. It was 'he's delicious' as one of my girlfriends put it.
‘Daphne Pile, Dora Cartagena, Fabiola Dobrani, Paula Wadena, Violet Maza, and Theresa 'Tigger' Castro,’ Katrina made rapid-fire introductions. ‘Now that we all know each other, time to start filling all the orders in our cue. Until Cáel figures out what is where, who wants to ride herd on him?’ I had mistakenly believed I would be working with Katrina.
No one leapt at the opportunity.
‘I'll do it,’ Fabiola Dobrani spoke up. She tried to sound upbeat for Katrina. They filed out of the office, each woman heading off in different directions, while I went to my tiny desk.
‘What are you doing?’ Fabiola sounded annoyed.
‘I need something from my desk and to go to the bathroom,’ I informed her. She sighed in exasperation. I quickly retrieved a handful of rubber bands then raced to Fabiola. She pointed me at the closest bathroom; which was Katrina's personal one. In I went then I locked the door. My pants and underwear came off. I expediently made a rubber band chain then looped it around my hips and pinned my hard-on pointed up.
That had become a serious problem when dealing with all these attractive women and I didn't need the distraction. Once dressed, I quick-stepped it to Fabiola who was tapping her foot.
‘Let's go,’ she snapped. ‘We are working with Buffy today. We go with her and do what she tells us to do. Got it?’
‘Buffy is in charge, I have a basic command of the English language,’ I replied. Fabiola shot me an evil look. ‘What? Do I look like a five year old, or are you normally this rude?’
‘I'm not being rude to you,’ the women with a Mediterranean cast to her features reposed. ‘You've put us behind the other ladies. In case you haven't figured it out, that's a bad thing on our first day.’
‘Am I to believe this is your first day?’ I smirked. We stopped by another woman's desk. Did I mention that this corporation must raid beauty pageants for their staff? Buffy was a medium height brunette with long hair and a perfectly shaped oval face. Her eyes were the lightest shade of brown I'd ever seen, almost golden.
‘I'm Buffy Dubois,’ she stood and extended her hand. I had a neural misfire. I took her offered hand, leaned down and kissed it. Whoops.
‘Cáel Nyilas, Miss Dubois,’ I gulped. Buffy weighed my gesture.
‘Nice name,’ she grinned. ‘Call me Buffy. We go on a first name basis here.’
‘Our first assignment for the day is to go to 1802 Exeter Tower and prepare the suite for the CFO at our San Francisco office coming in for one week,’ she informed us. I had no idea where Exeter Tower was and what any of this had to do with my Business degree. I accepted that a fat paycheck was a fat paycheck, so I put my confusion on the back burner.
There was an amusing bit of posturing about who got to drive the company car down to the Exeter. Fabiola made a production of taking the keys and making me sit in the back, Buffy didn't want to drive.
‘You aren't much of a man's man, are you?’ Fabiola mocked me.
I waited a second for Buffy to say something, considering that bordered on harassment. Fabiola snickered at me while Buffy looked out the window, bored.
‘Was that supposed to mean something to me?’ I replied smoothly. ‘I don't know you, you obviously don't know me, and your assessment of my gender potential is ridiculous.’
‘Come on, 'New Hire', you didn't even go to a real school,’ Fabiola spat back.
‘That's enough,’ Buffy coughed. Fabiola shot me a dirty look. I elected to not be childish, looking out the window instead. Driving the car turned out to be more of a disadvantage than the gem Fab thought it would be. Fabiola had to park the car while Buffy and I went up.
The Exeter suite turned out to be a fully furnished apartment. The trick was turning the normal accoutrements into the specifics the client demanded. I didn't have experience with interior design. I couldn't say I was demeaned, being reduced to a glorified furniture mover. If Buffy was impressed by my ability to move chairs about, she hid it well.
She even left me to my own devices while she went to the bedroom. I double checked the image she'd downloaded to the cellphone to make sure everything was where they wanted.
‘Cáel, I need you back here,’ Buffy called out. Back I went, it wasn't like I had a choice. ‘We need to make sure the Feng Shui of the room is impeccable,’ she ordered.
‘Yes, Ma'am; Buffy,’ I nodded. ‘Now let's assume for a second I don't have the faintest idea what you are talking about and go from there.’
‘For now,’ she chuckled, ‘it means moving the bed where I tell you to.’ As I moved to the far side of the king-sized bed, contemplating the crushing weight of my student loans, I noticed Buffy had made a wardrobe adjustment.
That was a kind way to say she had unbuttoned her blouse to her naval and her pale pink, lacy half-bra was clearly visible. I also saw the incisor of some predator hung from a silver chain around her neck. As she leaned forward, it swayed, playing ping pong between her boobs. I was carefully attentive to her instructions and even managed to ask a few questions like 'what is Feng Shui?'
‘It is the art of focusing energy upon positive and negative lines so that you promote, or disrupt, the harmony of an area and its occupants,’ she informed me. She back-flopped down on the bed in one of the least obfuscated suggestions of 'come get me' I'd ever seen. I stayed well away, sensing a trap.
‘It's jaguar,’ Buffy tilted her head back and leered at me. Her shirt was wide open, her bountiful mounds jiggling slightly and her eyes were inviting. She was referring to the tooth pendant that was nestled between her breasts. I backed up toward the window.
‘I'm sure there is a story behind that,’ I tried to wiggle some more breathing room from my collar.
‘There is,’ she rolled over, her goodies still on display. ‘I shot it with my bow, skinned it and pulled the tooth from its skull.’ How sweet and informative.
‘I'm glad I'm across the room then,’ I grinned back. ‘I'd hate for there to be a misunderstanding between you and I.’ Now she placed herself on all fours and stalked across the bed toward me.
‘I don't think you are very interested in me,’ she pouted. Now I was mentally mapping out the time and distance involved in me getting past her and exiting this career-killer.
‘You are my boss,’ I exclaimed as I started edging around the room. ‘I imagine you are very interesting, but I'm not the kind of guy who makes advances on every beautiful woman he meets.’ That was a total lie. I had the bad habit of making advances on Absolutely every beautiful woman I met.
‘Where is everybody?’ Fabiola announced after she waltzed into the room. Forget an Oscar, she wouldn't even get a Razzie from me for that patently false performance. Buffy huffed, rolled her eyes and shifted to the edge of the bed. She fixed her blouse properly then shot a withering glance at Fabiola before getting back to business.
After sending a final video of the apartment to the CFO's personal assistant and getting her okay, we checked out our next chore and set to it. A good deal of it was getting laundry, specialty meals and even picking up kids from daycare/school. We did manage to do some actual corporate business. We ran some confidential documents, not trusted to the computer system, to the various big wigs who needed them.
In eight and a half hours I had been a furniture mover, delivery boy, nanny, chauffer and glorified postman. Had it not been for my mountain of student loans, the insane salary and limited job prospects, I would have been disheartened. As it was, I was merely paranoid and confused. I was getting the subtle sense that the women I was working with were waiting for me to fail.
I was confused because, with the bending over, strutting, lingerie model wannabes all over the place, how did they expect me to get anything done? My cock hurt, a lot. I was looking away so often I was afraid I'd get whiplash. These had to be the clumsiest women on Earth. Wherever I went, someone dropped something and had to bend over to pick it up.
No, they could not bend at the knees. They had to reach over while keeping their legs straight. These weren't the new hires either. The only one I saw before quitting time was Fabiola. Even she was pretty helpless. She kept losing her shoes and then pleading to me to help put them back on. No matter how hard she tried, I was not looking up her damn skirt.
Finally Buffy 'released' me, indicating my work day was over. That's when the jackals closed in. From out of nowhere, all six of the new hires appeared outside Katrina's office as I retrieved my valise. Had it not been for my mode of transit, I'd have left it there and made for the elevators instead of risk being cornered.
‘Is there a problem?’ Katrina spoke up, sensing my reticence in leaving her office. I had to think fast.
‘Can I use your bathroom?’ I turned and asked her. She indicated that I could. I went in and changed, ditching the rubber band nonsense, it hadn't really worked.
When I stepped out, the conspiratorial whispers among the new girls stopped. I even caught Katrina looking me over. See, I got to and from work on my bicycle. It was a really nice bike. Dad got it for me for graduation, as I said, I don't come from money. Anyway, biking in a suit in New York City was kind of stupid and hard on the dry cleaning bill.
The answer to this dilemma was biking clothes, which in June consisted of very tight shorts and a tight shirt (my helmet is with my bike in a nice secure area in front of our skyscraper). Now take into account I was in really good shape and, oh yeah, horny as hell with a 'sensational' package (fine, one girl called it sensational, I chose to run with her literary license).
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6; yep, ab six-pack accounted for and there was the tube-snake running off to my left hip. Even my nipples on my broad pectorals were making an appearance (through the shirt). As a passing note, I have a really nice ass, or so I've been told, and these shorts don't work well with underwear so I was going without.
I mustered my courage and marched on the door.
‘Umm;’ Katrina purred. ‘Tomorrow, seven o'clock.’
‘Yes, Ma'am, Katrina,’ I waved over my shoulder. The new hires parted for me, except for Daphne. She put a hand on my right bicep.
‘Cáel, we are going out for drinks to celebrate our first day,’ Daphne smiled sweetly.
‘Thank you, but no thank you,’ I shook my head. ‘I'm not into time travel.’ I moved past her.
‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Dora inquired. They followed me to the elevator.
‘It is a riddle, Dora,’ I grinned. ‘If you six ladies celebrated your first day with the company, where and when did this celebration take place?’
‘Are you implying we are lying to you?’ Violet glared.
‘I'm implying you six are treating me like an idiot and none of you are graduates of the N S A, C I A, or the New York Academy of Fine Arts, Violet,’ I glared right back.
‘You are not being a team player,’ Theresa gave me a smug look.
‘Now we are back to me being treated like an idiot,’ I sighed. ‘Let me see, each of you knew where your assigned person was, Buffy didn't see the need to greet Fabiola, Fabiola knew where the car keys were kept, she knew right where the Exeter Building was without accessing our onboard navigation system. She found a parking spot in downtown New York City at ten in the morning in under fifteen minutes. shall I go on?’
The hush was so pronounced that not only could I hear our elevators quiet whir, I could hear the noise from the ones on either side of us. The women exchanged nervous looks.
‘You could still come out and join us for some drinks,’ Daphne jumpstarted things.
‘I'm seeing somebody,’ I countered.
‘You don't have a girlfriend,’ Paula stated confidently. Yep, dating survey.
‘I met a nice female mime (might as well confirm my heterosexuality) and after an in depth conversation I think we have a lot in common so we are giving serious thought about going out tonight,’ I lied. Oh, it was an obvious lie alright. I wanted it to be.
‘She could join us,’ Tigger suggested. They were freaking relentless. Fortunately, the elevator doors opened and we exited onto the ground floor.
‘And that would make sense because on the first date I'd want to surround her with a bunch of women she doesn't know and probably has little in common with; I don't think so,’ I mused.
They watched me prep my bike, affix my helmet and pedal off to freedom while hovering around and trying to create a new game plan.
‘Let us know how the date goes,’ Fabiola called out.
‘Like that is going to happen,’ I muttered as I sped away.
I had studied the route between the corporation headquarters and my domicile for three days and gone onto multiple chats with my fellow cyclists to get a feel for traffic flows, road construction and back alleys. This allowed me to get home in just under fifteen minutes. I lugged my bike up the three flights of stairs, my neighborhood was far from the safe confines of the skyscraper, and settled into my shared flat.
The apartment was rather close quarters, but my roommate, Timothy (never Tim), was a descent sort. Timothy was an exercise-conscious, gay tattoo artist with a good professional reputation and he found my choice in employment amusing. Timothy said I was swimming against the current. I told him salmon did it every year. He countered with salmon don't jump Angel Falls.
I was starting to feel he was prophetic after only one day. I didn't dwell on it too much. I did our laundry, picked up our common area then started in on dinner. That consisted of microwaving frozen vegetables and sausage and bacon biscuits. I left that to warm up, while I worked out. When Timothy walked in he laughed and shook his head.
‘You are the best boyfriend I never had,’ he chuckled. ‘Did you do my laundry too?’
‘Yep,’ I said. I put my tablet down and headed to the kitchenette.
‘Even the underwear?’ he teased.
‘If that's what you like to call it,’ I teased right back.
Timothy tended to dress like a Chippendale dancer on his date nights. Thankfully, he had the body for it. Double thankfully, we were both okay with our sexuality. At the start, he had told me he was coming off a long term relationship that imploded. I told him I was heterosexual who had a chronic problem with fidelity.
(Tuesday)
My mobile phone rang at three o'clock, in the a.m. It was Katrina telling me that I was to get my ass over to corporate, find Desiree and do what she said. Katrina hung up before I could ask for an explanation. Twenty-two minutes later I was back at work. I pulled my 'Clark Kent.' then phoned Desiree Fredrickson who was already in the garage, level one.
She was waiting for me, trying to look impatient, but I knew the 'threw on whatever was handy' look from too many 'confused girls in the morning' experiences. I looked at her grim countenance and decided to be professionally polite.
‘You have this spot at the right corner of your mouth,’ I quietly informed her.
While driving, she peeked into the rearview mirror and used her tongue to correct the dried drool problem. There was no 'thank you' aimed my way.
‘What are we doing?’ I yawned.
‘At least pretend to maintain the proper decorum,’ she chided me. She did her best to stifle her yawn.
That was the end of my instructional period until we pulled into a parking spot close to a police station.
‘Watch your mouth and remember they don't like us,’ Desiree warned.
‘Woman, is it going to kill you to tell me what's going on, or am I going to have to figure this out with a Tarot deck?’ I snapped back.
Her eyes narrowed with anger as she turned on me.
‘Can't you follow a simple order?’ she growled.
‘Sure,’ I sighed. ‘It isn't like you want me to succeed anyway,’ I groused. She huffed in exasperation then led me to the front of the precinct building.
Due to the hour, the place was crowded with drunks, drug addicts and dealers, with a sprinkling of prostitutes and violent felons. The 'they' who didn't like us became obvious. The cops didn't like Desiree and, by default, me.
‘We are here for Marilynn Saint John,’ Desiree stated.
‘Of course you are, Miss Frederickson,’ the female desk sergeant sneered. ‘It is Lady's Night at some whore-hole so, of course, your princess ended up here.’
‘Just get her,’ Desiree demanded. The sergeant kept sneering in a way that told us we were going to be a while. Desiree walked over to a corner and put her back to it.
I decided to hover close by until the sergeant had a moment.
‘What do you want?’ she regarded me. ‘Aren't you with the trash collector?’ I guess that meant Desiree.
‘She's one of my bosses,’ I shrugged. ‘This is my first, I guess now it is my second day on the job and I have no idea why I am here.’
I put my politest, most girl-friendly demeanor forward. It worked.
‘Keep in mind you are picking up your boss's trash, Kid,’ she turned all matronly on me. ‘You need to stop hanging around all those poisonous bitches and get a better job.’ That led to a discussion of my age, background and economic status of my family.
She liked the fact that I was proud of my blue-collar background, single and polite. As an unexpected bonus the Sergeant had a single daughter; a freshly minted from the Police Academy policewoman. I gave her my mobile number and she sent someone to retrieve our charges. While we waited, she showed me a picture of her girl. The daughter was rather sexy.
I told her mother that her daughter had a bright smile and a cute nose. Saying 'your pride and joy would look good handcuffed to my bed' wouldn't win me points. As the desk sergeant and I finished, out walked two wasted teen fashion queens with a female police escort.
‘Sign for the over-privileged skanks,’ the Sergeant directed me.
Desiree pushed me aside and took custody of Marilynn and her high society pal, Vienna Rothmore. The two young ladies joined us as we left the station.
‘Sorry to mess up your date, Desiree,’ Marilynn snickered. Yeah, right, she was so sorry.
‘He's not my date,’ Desiree ground out. ‘He's one of our new hires.’
‘Oh, cool,’ Marilynn slurred. She reached up from the back seat and put a hand on my shoulder. ‘I want you to come home with me and help me test my sheets to make sure they are comfortable,’ she giggled. ‘I have delicate skin.’
‘You also have a problem with substance abuse, taking things that don't belong to you, and a lifetime of making poor choices,’ I countered. ‘Sorry; I have to decline.’
‘You work for my grandmother. That means you work for me,’ she protested.
‘I'm sure if you have your wonderful grandmother put your request in my work cue, I'll get around to it,’ I smiled.
‘You're no fun,’ Marilynn complained.
‘He's not here to be fun for you, Marilynn,’ Desiree finally intervened.
‘Oh, pooh,’ Marilynn snickered. ‘What's your name?’
‘I'm Clone 117. The corporation grew me in a vat in a secret lab in Nebraska,’ I stated evenly.
‘Really?’ Marilynn's friend, Vienna gasped. She was way too stoned/drunk.
‘Yes. Now that I've revealed this company secret they are going to have to melt me down to my base proteins and recreate me. Such is the life of a clone,’ I groaned.
‘No way,’ Vienna gasped.
‘He's playing with us,’ Marilynn clued in. ‘What is your name, really?’
‘Cáel Nyilas,’ I answered.
‘Cool name,’ Vienna declared. ‘Does it have a meaning?’
‘Cáel is from my Mother, it's Irish for 'slender' as well as the angel for Thursday,’ I informed her. ‘Nyilas is Hungarian, it means Archer.’
‘Are there any rich Hungarians?’ Marilynn asked.
‘Umm; Calvin Klein, Steven Ferencz Udvar-Házy, and George Soros to name a few,’ I told them.
They were dumbstruck. We are Hungarians. It isn't like there are tons of us.
‘If it is any consolation, I'm not related to any of them,’ I added.
‘Ah; do you have a fascination with rich people?’ Marilynn struggled back.
‘Well, you have to admit it is tons easier than being fascinated with all those poor people,’ I turned and grinned at her.
‘What university did they recruit you from?’ Marilynn giggled. ‘You are fun.’
‘Miss Fredrickson found me walking out of a GQ party two weeks ago,’ I grinned. ‘The matter of my education never came up.’
‘Lying on your application, during the interview process, and during, or about an assignment is grounds for termination,’ Desiree reminded me.
‘They don't work for the company,’ I countered, ‘nor am I working on any sort of relationship with them. Are you ordering me to be totally truthful while on the clock?’
‘She is a client, so she gets the truth,’ Desiree demanded.
‘Cool. I will gladly put this conversation down on my report to Miss Love, Katrina when filing the sexual harassment suit against Miss Marilynn Saint John,’ I gleefully stated.
‘That is even less funny,’ Desiree grumbled.
‘As I recall she said, 'I want you to come home with me and help me test my sheets to make sure they are comfortable,' Desiree. I'm pretty sure that qualifies,’ I glared at her.
‘She's not an employee,’ Desiree countered.
‘I chose to ignore the idiocy of that statement, because we both know that we are on the job, working the cue. Thus, she is responsible to our corporation for her words and actions. Marilynn is vulnerable to a suit by Havenstone for her conduct toward one of their employees,’ I outlined.
‘Wait, you aren't launching a complaint; you want the company to do so on your behalf?’ Desiree stared at me in surprise.
‘Of course,’ I nodded. ‘What else would I do?’ What was left unspoken was that I could try to sue the corporation for this whole fiasco. I wasn't going down that road.
‘Ha,’ Marilynn laughed ‘like Grans would sue me.’
‘You are right,’ Desiree spoke to Marilynn even as her eyes returned to the road. ‘She'll simply get a report on this assignment as well as a notification of Cáel's complaint.’ Marilynn and Vienna giggled at the absurdity of the gesture. They didn't get that I did get it. My complaint was going nowhere officially. I was drawing a battle line. I wasn't going to get pushed around.
We dropped Marilynn off. Desiree took her inside, put her to bed, then we did the same to Vienna at her place. That chore accomplished, we headed back to work. Desiree promptly abandoned me, so I went up to Katrina's office, switched back to my biker clothes and crashed out on the short bench in the bathroom. My alarm was set for 6:45 a.m.
I was half-dressed after the alarm woke me when the door opened and Katrina looked in. I froze.
‘What are you doing?’ she let her eyes roam over my mostly naked form.
‘I had a call at three this morning. By the time I finished, heading home made no sense. I grabbed an hour of sleep on your bench,’ I said.
‘Why are you dressing in my bathroom?’ Katrina mused.
‘I didn't want to sleep in my work suit, Katrina. I changed to my bike clothes to sleep in and when I woke up a minute or so ago, I was started to change back,’ I explained.
‘Very well,’ she nodded. ‘Finish up.’ She didn't look like she was leaving.
I didn't rush getting dressed. Looking good was something I had to emphasize since that was what they were looking at in judging my ability to fit in. So I hoped anyway. I had to turn sideways to get past Katrina. In the office itself, four of the female new hires had already gathered: Daphne, Paula, Dora and Tigger.
They were surprised to see me, early and coming from Katrina's private lavatory, followed closely by Katrina. I stood by my little desk because the others were forced to stand by circumstance and I was playing at solidarity. Fabiola and Violet barely made it in before seven.
‘Yesterday went well,’ Katrina started the meeting. ‘Most of you received very positive reviews, completed tasks ahead of schedule and exhibited team-building skills.’
‘Cáel, unfortunately, you appear to have difficulties adapting to our corporate culture and repeatedly had to have tasks defined for you. I appreciate you having some difficulties with this environment. I would hope you will take yesterday's lessons and apply them to your future endeavors with us,’ she continued.
‘Finally, you filed a complaint against one of our clients. I've reviewed it and found your complaint without merit. I will allow you to withdraw that complaint before it becomes part of your official record,’ she finished. The other newbies seemed curious about this tidbit.
‘Of course, Ma'am,’ I nodded.
‘Katrina,’ she corrected.
‘Yes Ma'am, Katrina,’ I bantered right back.
‘Katrina will do,’ her gaze challenged me.
‘You make the rules,’ I glared right back.
‘It is part of the corporate culture you are having problems with, Cáel,’ she stressed. I nodded and smiled. ‘Don't you agree, Cáel?’ she pressed the point.
‘I apologize, but Desiree told me not to lie on, or about, an assignment. Do you want me to lie and say I agree with what's going on here, or do you want me to ask why my trainer was rolling around on the bed, her shirt half open, exposing her bra to me?’ I stared.
‘Do we need to get into Fabiola sneaking up to the door and proving that she'll never make Broadway as she attempted to act surprised? I didn't bring this up earlier because I assumed this Was your corporate culture,’ I smiled.
‘If this bothers you, I will accept your request for reassignment,’ Katrina grinned.
‘Why would I want to leave? This place is a laugh riot,’ I chuckled. ‘I swear, all of you ladies have been working overtime to make this job as enjoyable as hell. With all the efforts made to make me feel welcome, bailing would be the height of ingratitude.’
‘Are you attempting to be amusing?’ Katrina smirked.
‘I am attempting to be as honest and genuine about my desire to stay as you are in your desire to keep me on,’ I kept going. Her smirk turned into a grin.
‘Cáel, I see your retention in my department to be a personal challenge,’ she replied.
‘Thank you,’ I nodded. ‘I find your personal attention to be inspirational.’
My translation? She was trying to get me to jump ship, or do something that would get me shuffled to some office even worse than this one. My polite response, more bravado than common sense, was 'bring it bitch'. It was of no comfort that it wasn't personal, they were going to axe all us men. In hindsight, I shouldn't have been making so many assumptions.
‘Now that has been taken care of; on to our next order of business,’ Katrina continued.
‘I want all of you to reacquaint yourselves with our sexual liaison policies. Interns are forbidden, for the sake of job review status, from engaging in romantic and/or sexual activity with an employee, or client, of Havenstone Commercial Investments. We had an unfortunate incident last night and had to relocate an intern,’ she related.
‘I would like to think we can avoid that here, ladies,’ she stated decisively.
‘You can count on us,’ Daphne stepped up. I nodded along with the rest. I was trying to figure out which guy they had nailed. I noticed that only one intern had gotten 'relocated'. For that matter, what did 'relocate' mean? Couldn't they just say 'fired'?
We got our assignments and off we went. I had Buffy again.
‘How did your date with the mime go?’ Violet teased me.
‘It turned out we had nothing to talk about,’ I grinned.
‘You should have gone out with us,’ Daphne pressed in from my other side. ‘We met several cute guys.’ Ah, the old 'prove you aren't gay' thing again.
‘Were they really handsome, hard and buff?’ I stared hungrily into Daphne's eyes. That caught her off guard for a second.
‘Very,’ she licked her lips.
‘Oh,’ I sighed. ‘I'm not into guys but if I was, it would be old, fat, bald men, the rounder the better.’
‘You are a real joker,’ Violet mused.
‘I prefer to think of myself as a guy who panders to the most pathetic moral characters he's confronted with,’ I smirked as I glided past them to Buffy's desk. Buffy looked to me then past me to the two new hires who beamed hate at my back.
‘Is there something I need to be made aware of?’ Buffy questioned me.
‘Children shouldn't play with matches, run with scissors, or verbally spar with someone who knows that the Vampire Diaries is not the best our culture can do,’ I informed her.
‘New hires in the same department are encouraged to create relationships that will last them for as long as they are with Havenstone,’ Buffy stated.
‘That was in the Handbook, wasn't it?’ I tried to recall.
‘It is not only a good idea, it is corporate policy,’ Buffy said as she stood. ‘Let's get to work.’
I followed along. This was my job though being given advance notice about what I was supposed to be doing would have been nice.
‘Today we are caretaking a meeting,’ Buffy told me after we had taken the elevator to one of the top floors. ‘That means we pay attention to the top brass,’ she downloaded some faces for me to memorize, ‘figure out what they want before they do and interface with the caterers when they arrive so no non-corporate employee is ever near our top tier.’
‘Why isn't this a teleconference?’ I inquired. Buffy gave me a condescending look.
‘Do you always assume you know more than everyone else,’ she mused.
‘I think that if I don't know, I should ask, if I'm given a mentor, I should utilized their experience, and the best way to fail is to pretend you know what you don't,’ I related.
‘I'll tell you what you need to know,’ Buffy informed me.
‘Par for the course, Buffy,’ I grinned mindlessly. She shot me a confused look. Checking out the room was more important to Buffy than satisfying her curiosity. We finished our checklist right before the first participant arrived.
I worried how we were going to meet their needs while out of the room. It wasn't like they would want some schmuck like me listening to truly critical information. Buffy and I remained in the room, so I assumed they'd be talking about their vacation experiences. As the late-forties/early fifties looking women walked in, they all flashed me looks.
The looks varied from A to B; sublime hostility and contempt, to outright sexual desire. I made a mental note to thank Buffy before I nipple-twisted her into cardiac arrest. I was also gifted with the same looks from the young women that followed the major players around. A few things filtered through my perceptions.
The various women were talking to one another, mostly in English but with a few other languages bantered about. The collective artifacts around the room were genuine. I knew this because my first lover taught Archeology at Bolingbrook. I never signed up for any of her courses because that might have cost her professorship.
She also reinforced my libido driven ambiguity. Essentially she encouraged me to be a man-whore because I had a voracious sexual appetite. Thus the reason I knew I could pick up a date at any bar within five minutes. Of greater relevance was that I could tell the difference between Dorian and Attic Greek, real 19th dynasty Egyptian versus a Cairo backstreet knock-off, Old Kingdom Hittite and Gaelic Celt from the Early Roman Republic period.
This one room was worth a mint. I was brought back from my ruminations by a sublime call to order. The room grew quiet, the women stood solemnly and then Miss Hayden Saint John (aka Marilynn's Grans) began a deep intonation, a chant. Each of the elder members of the board took up the song based on seniority. When all the board members had taken up the anthem, the junior women uniformly began to sing a different song at a higher pitch.
The final refrain ended with a sorrowful echo. The women sat down and the business began. Now I knew why they didn't give a damn that I was in the room. They were talking in a language less than a thousand people worldwide probably knew, except for this crowd. The main reason was the fact this language last enjoyed mass usage during the time of the Iliad.
I knew the language because the aforementioned Archeology professor had a kink for poetry in dead languages. Her reading to me while engaging in intercourse was the erotic equivalent of the equestrian arts. My passionate reciting to her in the same tongues inspired her to a bedroom rendition of bronco busting. I had a desperate desire to establish my best poker face.
Letting any of them know I could follow the conversation seemed unwise. The first two hours of the meeting were normal corporate greed and malfeasance. I handled a call from a concerned caretaker. A nanny of one of the board members had a child come home sick. I accessed her information, contacted her pediatrician and set up the appointment in as muted voice as possible.
When they adjourned for a break, I moved next to the mother and waited to be recognized. She got around to me after she impressed upon me that I was insignificant. When she was informed of the issue, she became angry and concerned. She couldn't take my word for anything, making all those calls all over again. When it turned out to be exactly as I told her, the oddest thing happened.
‘You performed admirably,’ she smiled and patted my cheek. Well, duh! ‘What is your name and who controls you?’ Controls me? I didn't like that at all.
‘Cáel Nyilas, Miss Beyoncé Vincennes’ (the board member's name). In this 'first name' corporate culture, I wasn't sure how to address a board member and Buffy had been of no help.
‘Katrina Love is my department head,’ I finished.
‘You seem to be very polite and useful, for a man,’ she kept smiling. That was nice right up to the 'for a man' part. ‘It was a pleasure,’ Beyoncé added. I thought she was about to hug me, beyond strange. Instead she extended her hand for me to shake.
This time it wasn't a mistake. I placed a chaste kiss upon her knuckles on purpose because suddenly a classically romantic gesture seemed liked the career-positive thing to do. One of the other ladies standing close by casually remarked to a companion in Old Kingdom Hittite.
‘Look, she didn't have to train him, or anything.’
I successfully resisted flinching as I released Beyoncé's hand and backed away. Training? If I became involved with any kind of behavioral training I was demanding a serious raise to that outrageous salary I was already getting. They finished their break in short order and returned to their meeting. The second portion was worse, much worse.
They began chatting about breeding programs, harvesting mates, selective marriages and assassinations to advance their cause. Oh My God. They were a crazed female cult trying to take over the World and my internship was a 'test case' for a new male training program. I guessed that Khalid 'washed out' and not in a good way.
I was truly tempted to whisper to Buffy that I was going to the bathroom, take the elevator, exit the building and flee. No, not flee to my apartment. I'd stop by there, but after that I'd keep going. I wasn't sure where I would stop running. These chicks were global. I'd always wanted to bike my way down the Andes. Southern Argentina looked good, just me and some penguins.
Work called and I responded. Issues were dealt with and even Buffy seemed pleased by the time lunch rolled around. The two of us checked out the servings. The individual junior members collected and inspected the plates for themselves and their seniors. We were around in case anything went wrong.
‘Why did you kiss Beyoncé's hand?’ Buffy addressed me out of the blue. She was almost polite.
‘Did I do something wrong?’ I inquired.
‘It isn't what I've come to expect from you,’ she looked me over inquisitively. ‘You kissed my hand, but I discerned that you felt it was a mistake.’
‘You are also combative with the other new hires,’ she grinned, ‘yet you are not a suck-up as evidenced yesterday. Such a submissive gesture to Beyoncé isn't like you unless you are aiming for the stars.’
‘How about considering it to be a spontaneous action of respect?’ I regarded her.
‘Besides, I don't even know what she is in charge of,’ I shrugged. ‘I felt like doing it so I did it.’
‘Well, I'm impressed,’ Buffy smiled. ‘Do you want to go out for a drink or two after work?’
‘It's against the rules,’ I reminded her.
‘I won't tell if you won't,’ she winked.
‘Doing so is wrong, I know it's wrong and that's what matters,’ I explained.
‘Does that really matter to you?’ she was back to reading my intentions.
‘Yes. It should matter to you too,’ I said.
‘Interesting,’ and that was that. I didn't deserve answers or explanations.
Once the plates were cleared away and any trace cleaned up, the meeting lasted for two more hours. The reason they didn't want any of this getting out to the larger world was clear. They apparently engaged in murder, slavery, and illegal genetic engineering. That was on their good days. I kept a low profile and the hope that I'd make it out of the building in one piece; until the meeting ended.
As we exited into the spacious hallway, an accident of fate took over. I was sent ahead to retrieve some parcel one board member had brought for another. Four women in front of me, two seniors and two juniors, abruptly stopped to share some joke. I stopped. The two women coming up behind me didn't, pushing me into the Indian junior member.
I immediately backed off and apologized. She turned and looked pissed. Her backhand caught me flat-footed. Cursing in Hittite, she called me a bull's ass then hauled off to slap me again. I took a half-step back.
‘Would someone please call 9-1-1?’ I announced in a loud, clear voice. ‘This woman just assaulted me.’ I was praying that, with the meeting over, they would pretend to be human once more.
No one did anything at first. The conversation muted. Not even Buffy looked like she was coming to my aid. Such is life. The junior Indian chick smiled evilly and launched her slap. Recall her backhand caught me off-guard the first time out. She swung, I blocked then shot two lighting jabs to her chin. Down she went, stunned.
The only remaining noise was me moving. I wiped off my belt, rolled the little princess onto her stomach and pulled both her arms behind her back.
‘What are you doing to my (she used a dead word)!’ shouted the Indian Senior. I started lashing junior's wrists together as I tried to reason out what that term meant. I guessed it was 'apprentice', or something close to that.
‘Your unwillingness to obey the laws of the land you find yourself in doesn't concern me,’ I glared at India Senior. ‘Now I'm;’ was all I got out before she kicked me. I don't mean some kind of old lady stomp. No, this was a spinning kick to the shoulder. It would have been to my head, but I almost dodged in time.
The women stepped back to give us room in the hallway to fight. More accurately, they made room so she could kick my ass. I was using boxing. She was using some sort of fluid, acrobatic style of martial arts I'd never seen before. It emphasized kicks and redirecting energy. Down I went. She began to untie her companion as I got up.
I came at her, she put a foot to my gut, followed by a palm strike to my trachea and a second one to my forehead. Down I went again, then forced my way onto all fours. This time, India Senior was waiting for me. I struck at her feebly, she knocked my arm aside then slammed her heel into the back of my skull, bouncing my head off the floor. Sadly for her, I have a really thick skull.
She had half-turned to her companion when I crawled up for more punishment. She gave an annoyed grunt and launched a kick at my ribs. Boxing hadn't worked so I went for Brazilian jujitsu, my second best martial arts style. It surprised the shit out of her. Ten seconds later I was preparing to snap her damned neck when I felt the others closing in.
‘Cáel!’ Buffy screamed. ‘Stop that right now.’ My sixth sense kicked in. There was no way I could win this fight with my brawn. I elected for the cerebral response. I let go of the woman and rolled away, right onto the feet of the closest female group. Odds were looking good they were about to pound on me as well.
They began chattering about what they were going to do with me. Somewhere in the process, India Senior stomped over and lashed me with the belt I'd tied India Junior with. I actually heard Buffy trying to get to my side. The problems were she couldn't understand Hittite and she was overly cognizant of the power the women pushing her around possessed.
I was giving serious consideration to letting these bitches in on the secret that I knew their lingo when I heard a different voice shout out in Hittite. It was Katrina. The outrage at what I had done and the glee about what they were going to inflict on me ceased. President, really High Priestess, Hayden Saint John began to chastise Katrina. Essentially, it was my 'time' and me being out of control was all Katrina's fault.
‘Cáel,’ Katrina commanded, ‘come here right now.’
I stood up then stopped. For a second, I think they were confused, but soon turned angry. Bizarrely, it was Indian Senior who came to my rescue.
‘He can't get to her without pushing past you, my Sisters,’ she said in English. They parted enough for me to slip by and that I did.
‘Do you trust me?’ Katrina addressed me. I nodded. ‘Kneel and stay at my side until I tell you otherwise.’ Without hesitation, I went down on one knee at her side.
‘Cáel,’ Hayden stepped into my personal space. I looked up at her. ‘Why do you kneel before Katrina?’
'She's my boss' was the hollow response. The social aspects of their meeting gave me a better idea.
‘Katrina chose me. I honor that by following her directions,’ I replied.
‘Why did you attack Madi and Rhada?’ Hayden interrogated me.
That had to be India Junior and Senior though which was which was beyond me.
‘I'm not a kiss-ass, or a lawbreaker,’ I told her. ‘If I was supposed to let them behave in a barbaric fashion, I am sure Katrina, or Buffy, would have told me.’
‘Barbaric!’ the junior snapped. ‘I'll show you barbaric, you Ass.’
‘Rhada,’ Senior placed a hand on her subordinate's shoulder. That made her Madi.
‘Beg their forgiveness,’ Hayden directed me.
‘No,’ I replied. By the looks of the crowd, I'd blow my last shot at freedom; maybe life.
‘Why not?’ Katrina tapped my shoulder.
‘They made you look bad in front of Hayden,’ I gazed up at Katrina. ‘I'll apologize, but only if they apologize to you first.’ Clearly no one knew what to make of that.
‘No, Cáel,’ she rubbed my head but smiled warmly doing so, ‘you must apologize first.’
‘Rhada, I;’ I began.
‘No, you must apologize to Madi first,’ Katrina directed.
‘Madi, I apologize for striking your companion, for hitting you and for knocking you to the floor,’ I looked down at the carpet. Eastern mysticism was all about 'reverence'. I needed no prodding this time to wait for my apology to be accepted or rejected.
‘This one has spirit and fights well,’ Madi said in Hittite. ‘Katrina, give this one to me and there will be no accounting of this breech.’
‘Buffy, what happened?’ Katrina turned to her worker.
‘I didn't see what participated the offense,’ Buffy answered. I was boned.
‘I pushed him into Rhada,’ one junior confessed. ‘Madi and Rhada had stopped, the male was on an errand. He stopped, but I didn't see that until too late.’ I tried not to look relieved because that had been said in mystic Hittite as well.
‘It doesn't matter,’ Rhada grumbled (Hittite). ‘The male touched me without permission, so I slapped him.’
‘You hit my male?’ Katrina said in a cold, threatening tone, Hittite yet again.
‘He is not your property,’ Rhada stated, sigh; Hittite.
‘He is part of the 'New Directive',’ Hayden snapped. ‘You initiated a fight with a male partaking in the 'New Directive' without even asking why he bumped into you?’ Oh, Big Momma was pissed. Too bad they were getting pissed in Hittite.
‘He's just a male,’ Madi pointed out. Yay, me.
‘Madi, you perpetuated a fight with Katrina's male, knowing it was your apprentice's fault. What is wrong with you?’ Hayden lambasted her. ‘You owe Katrina an apology.’
‘No!’ Madi insisted. ‘The male should have taken his beatings and apologized.’
That was not a good thing to say and all the ladies around me knew it. Hayden was the High Priestess. Maybe not the Goddess-Queen, but she carried the most gravitas in this circle and Madi was slyly sidestepping that. This was an ugly situation.
‘Cáel,’ Katrina returned to English. ‘I need you to get up, go over to those two and beat them up for me.’
This was not the solution most were looking for, me included. I'd barely beaten Madi's ass when it was just me and her. Adding her little friend would make things very tough.
‘Can I ask a favor first?’ I looked up at Katrina. I was now being studied by many of the women in attendance intently.
‘What is it?’ Katrina remained sympathetic.
‘I request that Hayden give me the order so this doesn't reflect poorly on you,’ I stated. Now all the women were looking around. It was the answer to their conundrum. This would transform the feud between Katrina and Madi into one of Madi versus Hayden, where it really belonged.
‘Cáel,’ Hayden commanded. ‘Subdue Rhada then Madi. They will fight you in single combat.’ Now the cultural fear set in to the crowd; not my defiance, but Madi's. I was kicking off my shoes and throwing down my coat when Beyoncé called for attention in Hittite.
‘Perhaps we 'burn feathers' over this incident and commit this memory to the 'nothingness'.’
‘Katrina and Madi should make the appropriate offerings for peace and prosperity,’ Beyoncé suggested. ‘There is no need for anger, or debt. Let this matter pass.’ Since this was in a language I shouldn't know, I had to keep advancing. The two Indian women were waiting on me. The Seniors began rattling off orders, threats and suggestions as I got ready to battle.
The worst part was when I realized they'd reached a peaceful consensus yet I had to get ready to take on Rhada.
‘Cáel,’ Katrina called to me. I twitched but kept sizing up Rhada.
‘Cáel,’ Hayden ordered. I took three steps back. ‘Return to Katrina's service.’
I returned to Katrina's side and stood there. I was getting the hang of this now.
‘Kneel,’ she tapped my shoulder. She said it in Old Kingdom Hittite. I looked into her eyes. ‘Kneel,’ she repeated in English. I knelt.
‘How did you train him in only two days?’ Beyoncé asked Katrina, in Hittite.
‘It is a matter of respect,’ Katrina answered. ‘I am giving him an opportunity and he is grateful for the chance to prove himself.’ Not that I 'understood' her being nice to me, almost. Absently, Katrina reached out and caressed the top of my head. While not maternal, I definitely sensed this was something she might do to a favored child.
‘What of his unrestrained violence? We are already working on turning the first one docile because he could not control his crude masculine instincts. Why should we diverge from the traditional treatment with this one?’ A different senior, this one Egyptian maybe, spoke in Hittite.
‘Oh, really,’ Katrina mused, same language. ‘Cáel, hit Buffy,’ in English. Huh?
‘Please explain why I would do that to one of your people, Katrina,’ I raised my head. That caused some murmurs.
‘I wish you to do it, so hit her,’ Katrina insisted.
‘No, that would be wrong,’ I kept studying my mentor.
‘Fine, attack that woman over there,’ she pointed to the senior Egyptian.
‘No, it is still wrong,’ I was getting worried.
‘If she attacked me, would you defend me?’ Katrina led me along.
‘Of course,’ I nodded.
‘Even with violence?’ she inquired. I nodded. ‘Why?’
‘You are my mentor. You've given me this chance and if it means I have to fight, I fight,’ I explained.
‘What unrestrained violence?’ Katrina stared down her Egyptian opponent; Hittite. ‘He is perfectly capable of understanding how and when to apply violence. When told to stop, he stops. When told to behave incorrectly, he restrains himself.’
‘Violence is our purview,’ a senior from Africa (accent suggested Cameroon) said; in Hittite.
‘To let men hold the reigns of conflict is to invite disaster, again.’ I was getting an immersion lesson in Hittite, that's for sure.
‘Cáel,’ Katrina's voice caught me off-guard, ‘did you like hitting Madi and Rhada?’
‘God, no,’ I gulped. ‘My Dad would be furious with me for hitting a girl, even more for hitting two.’
‘Is that because you see women as weak and frail?’ the Cameroon Senior addressed me in French, which my resume said I did know (along with Spanish and Russian).
‘Women are smaller and weaker than men,’ I responded. That didn't go over well.
‘Do you think we are small and weak?’ Hayden asked.
‘No,’ I smiled, ‘I look around this room and all I see is a host of Amazons.’ And then it all made sense. The women all stared at me intently trying to determine if I could have possibly pierced their veil of secrecy.
‘Amazons?’ Hayden prodded me, in Hittite. I looked at her but didn't reply.
‘Amazons?’ she repeated in English.
‘Yeah, Amazons,’ I grinned. ‘Like Wonder Woman.’ There as an infinitesimal relaxation around me. They weren't opposed to disposing of me. Their worry was that if some jack-ass from Buttfuck Nowhere, had stumbled up their true identity; other, far more competent agencies could as well.
Instead, I had simply tossed a word in common usage out there, like that legion of chimps writing Shakespeare. A DC comic heroine had convinced them I knew nothing.
‘We have wasted enough time on this matter,’ Hayden intoned with authority. The women started to disperse. Katrina had to stay behind to deal with Madi and Rhada.
‘Buffy, take Cáel to my office and don't let him leave. Take care of him,’ Katrina commanded.
To be continued in Part 2
By FinalStand for Literotica.