

### Life as a New Hire,

### Deadly Secrets,

### Volume I

Copyright 2013 James M. Dosher

Published by Jens Sorensen at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

~

Table of Contents

ACW

Acknowledgments

Cover Credits

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

About James M. Dosher

Other books by James M. Dosher

Connect with James M. Dosher

~

Adult Content Warning

For

Life as a New Hire, Deadly Secrets, Volume I the first part of the saga Life as a New Hire, The 84 day internship of Cáel Nyilas in Twelve Volumes (LNH); this is a work of creative fiction with few ties to normal reality.

This fantasy melodrama attempts to weave the absurd into a facsimile of real life to entertain and amuse the reader. There is use of extreme language, descriptions of sex acts, and violence if this is offensive Do Not Read.

All sexually active characters are eighteen years of age or older.

Mythical creatures, mythical and historic deities and super natural phenomena all are depicted as reality in this saga, a fictional alternate reality. Characters depicted in the LNH are fictional characters and do not represent any real people.

***

"This adult fictional work may contain descriptions of various different types of consensual sex, sexual kinks, violence, staged combat, criminal behavior, warfare and terrorism.

No real human, animal, or AI was harmed in order to gain the technical inspiration for this tale."

James M. Dosher

Author

~

Acknowledgments

This work would not exist without the support of family (Megan, Rowan and Larry), who put up with my very real and insidious madness and a stranger – turned friend, Jens Sorensen, who believed, when I did not, that this tale was worth more than the electrons I wasted in its creation.

*Thanks to PokingFun for her editing wizardry*

*People who forget their past are doomed to be blind-sided by it*

*This story plays fast and loose with Ancient History and Linguistics; be warned.*

*People take for granted that they cannot see. If you don't think so, try not breathing.*

*Instinct, education and experience are complementary, not in opposition.*

*Suddenly knowing you are about to die rarely does anyone any good.*

~

Cover Credits

The Cover image is an original composition and collage based on images in the public domain of existing historical artwork and or free use images with original elements by Jens Sorensen. Please report any perceived copy right infringement to publisher for action.

Cover Elements

Achilles killing Penthesilea. Tondo of an Attic red-figure kylix, 470–460 BC. From Vulci; Part of the Staatliche Antikensammlungen (State Collections of Antiques) in the Kunstareal of Munich; image uploaded to Wikipedia by Bibi Saint-Pol.

Ax image: Edited and manipulated from an image, artist unaccredited, found on the Internet

Businessmen silhouette: Edited and manipulated image based on freeimages' photo #926343 uploaded by user "spekulator"

Heckler & Koch MP5: Manipulated image based on an image, artist unaccredited, found on the Internet.

Heckler & Koch UMP: Manipulated image based on an image, artist unaccredited, found on the Internet.

Knife: Original image created by Jens Sorensen using Gimp 2.8

~

Prologue

Fall 2010

At the start of my senior year at Thornton Fractional North High School in Calumet City, Illinois, I was a motherless loser. I was a loser on purpose. I didn't care about anything, lived like a slob. I was on course to graduate in the top 50% of my class. At best, that meant community college – doing what I didn't know.

The first week of school, the perfect girl, Cameron Sanders, caught her boyfriend cheating on her. Gripped by a bout of uncontrolled testosterone poisoning, I found her between third and fourth period walking with her clique of the super-popular girls and professed my love for her. She publically humiliated me then cavalierly dismissed my quivering form.

That night my widower Father found me despondently watching PBS. He didn't ask me for the details. He asked me 'what was I going to do about it'. Without using those precise words, he told me that I had no one else to blame for my circumstances but me. I also could be the one who changed my fate; me and me alone.

That night, my Father started me on a physical training regimen ~ weights and running. I threw myself into my studies. That first month, I thought I'd die. I lost weight, firmed up and raised my GPA enough to personally impress my English teacher. He helped me get a scholarship to a small college in rural New England.

I devoted myself to my physical and academic future. If I neglected anything, it was my incredibly anemic social life. I was too busy training mind for the next challenge, my body for the next benchmark and building my confidence to the point that I believed I could do anything, just like my Father said I could.

I went to college a wide-eyed, virginal, guileless boy who thought he could do anything. I graduated a very different young man – a seasoned, sexually proficient, relentless womanizer who knew I could have any woman I wished.

"There in," as they say, "lies the rub."

Spring 2015, Post Graduation

A multinational Fortune 500 company, Havenstone Commercial Investments is concealing criminal and deadly secrets in their Boardroom.

Blue collar, Cáel is recent graduate from Bolingbrook College in New Hampshire (75 % female student population.) He is one of five new male interns at Havenstone Commercial Investments. They are the only men in a company of 5000 women.

For the first 84 days, corporate policy states Havenstone employees and interns are forbidden sexual liaisons with each other; punishable by fines, job transfers and termination of contract. Havenstone policy means all Havenstone women are out of season; Cáel will have to look outside for bed partners.

With over 200 ex-girlfriends, all of whom he has betrayed in some manner, many who still want to cause him some level of pain, brought about by his insatiable sexual attraction for every woman he meets between 18 and 65, what could go wrong?

~

Chapter One

Monday, Day 1 of 84

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. Ms. 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, Ms. 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 concede

to your wishes."

At this point, the guys with 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, Ms. 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 Ms. 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, Ms. Tia Pharos VP of Business Management has chosen to take you on." My bet she was Lebanese, or Palestinian – more Semitic 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 Ms. 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, Ms. 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 cell phone 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 that 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.

"Ummm..." 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 NSA, CIA 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 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.

~

Chapter Two

Tuesday, Day 2 of 84

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 St. John," Desiree stated.

"Of course you are, Ms. 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 soooo 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.

"Ummm...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.

"Aaahhh...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."

"Ms. 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 Ms. Love – Katrina when filing the sexual harassment suit against Ms. Marilynn St. 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.

~

Chapter Three

6:45 a.m. Tuesday, Day 2 of 84

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 Ms. Hayden St. 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, Ms. 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 buttocks 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 *****!" 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, and 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 St. John began to chastise Katrina. Essentially, it was my 'time' and my 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 caused 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 butt 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 Bumfuck 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.

~

Chapter Four

Later Tuesday morning, Day 2 of 84

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 to 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 ****, ****, and **** 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.

"Hmmm...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 were 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.

~

Chapter Five

Late Tuesday evening, Day 2 of 84

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 buttocks 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, giving minute access to her dripping cunt. I rammed two fingers into her vagina, 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 my cock into her love canal. 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 penetration 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's sphincter.

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 that pussy and tease that ass 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 cunt. Even after it was deeply in place, she didn't react much. Only when the smaller, more flexible, dildo began penetrating her ass 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 ass?" 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 butthole 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 right breast then grabbed and pinched her nipple. 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 that night

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 buttocks, 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 me. I maneuvered her body around despite her grunted protests. Her head was forced around so I could maintain my kiss while I ground my cock against her ass.

Rhada tentatively stroked my hand holding her braid, suggestively leading my hand to her breasts. Feeling generous, I obliged and soon was mauling her right nipple through her silk blouse and bra. Right as I felt she was ready to gift me with one more orgasm, 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 place after a marathon S&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.

~

Chapter Six

Wednesday, Day 3 of 84

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 orgasm.

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.

I hurried to Katrina's office, Buffy a step behind me, rumbling like the jaguar she'd performed illegal dentistry on. She wasn't trying to intimidate me. Buffy was trying to mark her territory. I made it to my desk without actually being scent-marked, so I considered the encounter a draw.

"Have fun last night?" Katrina inquired without looking up.

"More than any one man should have," I confessed. Further conversation was severed by the arrival of the first of the female 'new hires'. As Katrina started our little meeting, I surreptitiously put in the work order for my suits. I wasn't sneaky enough for Katrina.

"Are you suffering some sort of head trauma that makes you believe you can avoid participation in this meeting?" she purred.

"No, Ma - Katrina," I was contrite. "I had to submit a work order for the business suits Buffy and Helena purchased for me last night so I would stop coming to work dressed like a homeless panhandler." That killed four of the girls; they failed to stifle their giggles.

"Couldn't you have dealt with that on the way in?" Katrina had this glitter in her eyes.

"Buffy was attempting to subject me to vehicular homicide," I replied. "I was afraid for my life on multiple occasions, up to and including her entry into the garage."

"How horrifying for you," Katrina delivered deadpan.

"I had my hands full, I swear," I placed my hand over my heart.

"I suspect that was the case," Katrina allowed. "Is there anything else you need to take care of while the rest of us wait on you?"

"Thank you, yes there is," I smiled, nodded and began typing away.

"I was being facetious, but then you knew that," Katrina teased. Several girls were openly giggling now.

When I finished, I walked around Katrina's desk, went to one knee and lowered my head. Katrina scanned my latest request.

"Really?" she was intrigued.

"Yes, Ma'am," I looked up at her. She ran her hands through my hair. "Katrina."

"You are trying," Katrina remarked. That could read either way. "Go back to your station before I show you where you really belong," she chuckled. I stood up and fist-pumped.

"Woo-who!" I shouted. "I'm going to bed." That finished them off. Even Fabiola cracked a tiny bit and snickered behind her hand.

The real joke they were embracing - making me part of their new breeding program - was the punch line to the joke Katrina and I found amusing. I knew the truth. We received our assignments and left the office.

"How did your date with Rhada go last night?" Paula nudged me.

"It wasn't a date. It was a corporate appointment," I corrected. "As for the rest - you don't want to know. Please believe me, you don't want to know."

"I can make you tell us," Fabiola smirked. The group kept together until I reached Desiree's desk. She was my boss for the day and she was not pleased, or amused.

Fabiola saved me.

"Sister, compel this one to tell us what happened with Rhada last night," Fabiola sneered in Hittite. I played dumb which wasn't hard in my fatigued state. Desiree transferred all of her dislike of me into outrage at Fabiola's breach.

"Is your blood poisoned?" Desiree seethed. "When they tossed you off the rocks, did you bounce back up, or are you so arrogantly stupid you would flaunt one of our most basic safeguards?"

"You are only half the woman you could have been," Fabiola shot back.

By the way Desiree flew out of her chair that was a deadly insult. I put my body between them and grabbed Desiree by her upper arms.

"Release me," she yelled, her hate returned its focus to me.

"You are my boss," I explained calmly. "I most join you in your battles. Is this a battle you truly want to fight, here and now?"

"Release me at once," Desiree commanded.

"One of us hiding behind a man," Fabiola mocked Desiree. Daphne punched her. "Ow!"

"Care to try that on me?" Daphne challenged Fabiola. "My family's prestige has never been called into question." I was starting to think they meant genetic purity.

"Buffy would not want me to let you come to harm," I whispered to Desiree then released her. It was that hunting photo that made me make that leap. Desiree glared at me. A slap followed, but it wasn't all that hard.

"Do not touch me without permission, Cáel Nyilas," she commanded in a clear voice.

The matter was almost settled.

"Come on," Desiree barked. I had one final bit to take care of.

"Daphne, thank you. Helena says you are coming along really well. Maybe we could have a few drinks after hours and you can give me some pointers," I requested.

Daphne seemed to mull that over. We had moved past the entrapment phase to the 'male in the bull pen - what do we do with him now' phase.

"I'll think about it," Daphne shot me this sexually curious look. Off they went and I had to sprint to catch up with Desiree who hadn't stopped to listen to my conversation with Daphne.

"Do not be flippant with me," Desiree grumbled. "I am not Buffy."

"Of course you are not," I nodded. "Katrina values your counsel and she trusts you."

"You know nothing," Desiree groused.

"Really? Helena and Buffy were sent away with me yesterday afternoon - you stayed," I began.

"This male internship program is the brainchild of Katrina and Tessa. Maybe she thinks that I'm in danger, thus her program, so she chooses you to safeguard me - no other," I added. "I don't think much of my place here as an individual, but I represent something of value to our boss. If that is the case, how much does she value and respect you?"

"Do you ever shut up?" she glared at me.

"Is that a question, or a veiled order?" I grinned. She glared some more. I kept quiet. Desiree had to enter a special code to gain us access to Basement Level 3. A short trip down a drab concrete hall illuminated a door and two Amazon's guarding it.

Desiree's ID card allowed her access. Mine did not. The security types verified my permission to be there, then verified it again. Finally, one pulled Desiree and questioned her. With great reluctance, the guards let me into the room. Their caution made sense. This was the Havenstone Corporate HQ armory.

This was not a few guns in a case with handful of wall sconces. Nope, this was an ATF gun-gasm, White Supremacist Nirvana, and a Gangster's Paradise all rolled into one. Desiree went to one table, lifted and examined one 9mm Walther PPQ, loaded the clip and gave it to me.

"It has no safety, so be careful," she notified me. She tossed the shoulder holster and two spare magazines my way.

As she readied her own weapon set, I put on my shoulder holster and secured my weapon.

"This is nuts, Desiree," I stated. "I'm not ex-military. I'm not a security officer, bodyguard, or assassin either."

"Don't get hysterical," Desiree snorted. "This is a simple assignment. We are going to pick up some school children and take them to their exclusive academy."

"Besides, on your resume, you claimed to have a passing familiarity with a number of firearms," she grunted.

"What do I do if we are stopped by the cops?" I inquired.

"Go to jail."

With that sterling pep-talk, we exited the bunker with a variety of weapons - mostly Desiree's because she was clearly anticipating the end of the world. She stored the weapons in our new, armored car while I stood close by acting like a weapons dispenser. According to established routine, I was given no specific instructions until we arrived on site where I was then supposed to instantly absorb the knowledge.

I gave that some thought. Havenstone knew their male hires had academic success. Given twenty-four hours, we could memorize anything. The Amazons, being a militant culture, were testing us to see how quickly we thought on our feet. It was still mean. As we pulled up to our Brownstone destination, I was given our mission.

Desiree was to go into the house, retrieve three schoolgirls, Aya (9), Europa (13) and Loraine (16), and bring them into the car. I was to wait on the stoop, hold the car door for them and keep my yap shut. By insisting I not use flippancy, Desiree had cut off my conversation at the knees.

"Woman, grey coat at the North corner," Desiree muttered to me as we started up the stairs. She went inside; I stayed on the stoop. Thankfully, my sojourn into Amazon politics had strengthened my ability to ignore the obvious and appreciate the benign. Two women were meandering up from the South and the woman to the North had gained a companion before Desiree returned. The girls came out first.

At the bottom step I caught sight of movement. I turned and stopped the children from advancing.

"Hey," the Loraine squawked.

"Cáel..." Desiree got out.

"Two to the North and two to the South - closing in," I whispered.

She did a casual scan.

"Take them to the car," Desiree ordered. I thought that was pretty stupid. If a murder/kidnapping was in the offing, getting the kids back inside seemed more prudent. I hesitated. She glared. I swallowed my instincts and began sheparding the girls down the stairs.

The moment the third child's feet hit the sidewalk, both groups of women began speeding up. I was trying to hustle the girls to the car's back door when a van came speeding up out of nowhere. I wasn't going to get door open in time.

"Down!" I shouted as I used my superior size to press my three wards down and against the car. The van screeched to a halt and the sliding door opened.

I drew, aimed over the top of the car and fired the pistol twice without even thinking that I was murdering somebody. I heard Desiree firing to the North. The woman in the van door slumped back. A second one tried to untangle herself so I put two bullets in her as well. I took a step and a half South, kneeled to shelter the girls with my body and began firing at the two southern women running my way.

I put two bullets into each of them - missing every shot. Crap. Suddenly, as I was shoving a new clip into my semi-automatic pistol, the eldest child broke and ran for the stairs. I looked over my shoulder. Desiree was down. One woman remained coming from the North. I hurled my body at Loraine, taking her down. I landed us on my shoulder then rolled to cover her.

I brought up the pistol and fired twice at the northern woman.

"Cease fire!" an unfamiliar female voice commanded. The northern woman stopped. As I swung my pistol South, I noticed Desiree sitting up. The two women in the van were coming back to life too. Three women I didn't recognize were coming down the Brownstone steps.

The lead female was clearly in charge. She approached me and extended a hand.

"Male - pistol," she demanded. I rose to me knees, pulling away from her and yanking Loraine behind me.

"Lady, I don't know you," I growled. "I'm not giving you my gun, or the girls, until someone tells me what's going on."

I was contemplating how bad her punch/slap/kick was going to be when Loraine laughed.

"That was fun," she exulted. "He tackled me and everything."

"Cáel," Desiree ordered, "give her the gun." I wasn't happy, but I did hand over the weapon.

"It was loaded with blanks, Moron," the leader smirked. "We would never let a man with a loaded weapon around our children."

"Thank God," I mused. "I couldn't understand how I missed those two down South."

"What makes you think you would have hit them?" she sneered. I pulled Loraine up with me as I resumed my feet then put her behind me.

"What makes you think your brain isn't as blank as the bullets you gave me?" I glared.

"Watch your tongue, Male," she glared right back.

"You threatened three children under my care," I grumbled. "Be happy I don't plant you on your ass." She looked more than happy to throw down.

"They were never your children to protect," Desiree spoke up. "This was a training exercise."

I looked over my shoulder at the other two girls. They were smiling at me. This had been fun for them. The only one who didn't know this was fake was me. I groaned.

"Clip," the leader snapped. I handed it over without protest. I'd used the other spare. She turned to Desiree. "Take them to school."

The five of us piled into the car and drove away. It was less than stunning that I didn't get a new firearm. I was sitting in the front passenger seat, feeling morose and angry when Europa spoke.

"That was really brave," she commented. "You did much better than the lady last spring. She went nuts."

"Really", I swiveled so I could see their faces and make sure they weren't pulling something on me.

"Oh, yeah," Loraine chuckled. "She ran right at the two down the street, firing as she went. She totally missed the van rolling up. Forgot she was supposed to protect us."

"She got high marks for marksmanship," Europa told me, "but we never saw her again."

"You smell nice," Aya beamed little kittens my way.

"He smells like sex," Loraine giggled.

"Starting with the fact that you are underage, add my desire to live and we end up with us not having this conversation," I winked.

"I've never seen a man as pretty as you even at school. The boys in my class are such jerks. They say I'm a freak because I have no Daddy," Aya went from happy to a frown.

"When I was in grade school, they called me a freak too, Aya," I met her gaze. "The difference is, I deserved it. I was a rude, mean person."

"Not having a Daddy doesn't determine if you are a freak; how you behave does. You are a very nice woman so they should be nicer to you. You are not a freak. Trust me, I'd know it if you were," I gave Aya a warm smile and tapped her nose playfully.

"Whoever controls you did a good job," Europa observed.

"No," Desiree snapped. The children must have been briefed on my status as well as spent a lifetime disguising their true culture.

"Europa, I am controlled by Katrina. I'll relay your compliment. She has delegated me to Desiree for the day, which means I'm with you three this morning," I answered despite Desiree's disapproval.

The private academy was for the wealthy; gender was not an issue. Security checked our ID's before they let us disgorge our precious cargo.

"Desiree, can Cáel Nyilas walk me to class this morning?" Aya requested. The look Desiree burned my way was intimidating.

"Of course, Aya," Desiree relented. "Cáel, only take as much time as necessary."

"Nos morituri te salutamus," I grinned. I knew that was overly dramatic. How tough could a room full of third graders be? Aya took me by the hand and led me in. Wow! Her teacher was a hottie. A quick glance suggested she was unmarried and very interested in me.

"Ms. Reichmann, this is my Daddy," Aya announced loudly. Ms. Reichmann's eyes flicked down to notice my lack of a wedding band. I knelt so that I was eye to eye with Aya.

"Aya, honey, Father has to talk to Ms. Reichmann in private for a moment. Please take your seat and I'll see you before I leave," I smiled paternally at Aya. She skipped to her seat.

"Ulyssa," Ms. Reichmann bit her lower lip.

"Ulyssa, is there a place where I can talk with you in private?" I asked with open innocence and a heavy undercurrent of passion. It turned out there was an unused conference room at the end of the hall.

I left Ulyssa with a smoldering look that guaranteed me a call-back. If any of the kids had the faintest idea why she was so flushed, short of breath and happy, they gave no hint. Aya took excessive pride in showing her 'Daddy' off to all her classmates. Any time I detected a bully, I gave the 'I'm keeping an eye on you' glare. I was whistling as I returned to the car.

"28 fucking minutes!" Desiree screamed at me.

"I had a little chat with Aya's teacher. I thought it would be nice if Ms. Reichmann was aware that Aya was unhappy," I reduced our love-making to the bare bones, 'no mention of sex' facts. "She said she'd keep a special eye out for Aya."

"That wasn't your job," Desiree seethed. We started driving away.

"I doubt you'll listen to my..." I go out.

"Shut up," she interrupted. "You have nothing to say that I want to hear."

"You shut up and imagine for a second I don't hate you and that I'm pretty good reading women in a way you are unaccustomed to," I snapped back.

"Katrina is going to be hard pressed to save you from this outburst," she sneered vindictively.

"How about this; Katrina saw potential in you so she's given you a chance to restore your prestige. What you are failing to understand is the underlying concept of family at Havenstone. This means they put a premium on their children - their female children," I suggested.

"Protecting the next generation can't be a job for you. It wouldn't be for them. To those women, perpetuating their families is all-important and you must see it as an obligation handed down to you by all your Havenstone predecessors." See, I avoided saying blood lines and their fucked up Amazon heritage.

"I don't know what your mother did wrong. Whatever it is, Katrina doesn't care and she's the one that really matters," I prodded. "Useless pricks like Fabiola won't be of any use to you even if they did like you. Thus endeth the male blathering."

"How do you know it was my Mother?" Desiree asked after several minutes driving.

"Desiree, your father could have done a fan dance on a table at the Presidential Inaugural Dinner and the women of Havenstone wouldn't give a damn. From Fabiola's big mouth, I'm guessing your mother married a guy that the family didn't approve of. In the status-obsessed corporate culture we are stuck with, that has to be pretty dreadful," I finished.

We were almost at Havenstone's Corporate HQ before Desiree spoke. She had been positively grim, far beyond her normal grumpiness.

"I killed them," she stated in a cold, emotionless voice.

"Who?"

"My parents; when my aunt found me and told me about my true heritage and what my parents had done, I killed them," Desiree answered in the same lifeless tone.

"I'm not going to lie to you. That's totally fucked up, but then I'm not you and I don't have to walk in your shoes," I mused. "I'm certainly not going to give you sympathy, or pity."

"You are a horrible person for not having the strength of character to allow your mother and father to live with the choices they made. Killing them was a totally selfish act. Before you say 'you wouldn't understand', let me tell you that's bullshit. Like you, I had a mother and father. My Mom is dead and I miss her every day. I think you miss them and that's why you are so damn bitter."

"I should kill you for that liberty," Desiree informed me.

"Bring it, Kitten," I scoffed. "I'd kick your ass."

"What inspires that delusion?" she turned to me. We had parked in the garage by this time.

"I have righteous fury on my side. Against that, you have no defense," I grinned.

"I warned you against flippancy," she reminded me.

"Is that a demand that I present my righteous fury for your examination?" I countered. Silence. We went through the security rigmarole, put up the firearms. As we were leaving, I turned to Desiree.

"You would think those two educationally-challenged bimbos would have warned me I was carrying blanks," I griped. The two security babes' posture turned all agro on me.

"I really should leave you here with them for a few hours," Desiree threatened.

"Have I told you recently how much I find you to be a kind, beneficent, wise and gifted teacher and sensei?" I faux-pleaded.

"Shut up," she grunted as we made my getaway.

"I think I know why Katrina tolerates you," Desiree told me after a few second in the elevator.

"To try everyone else's patience" I guessed?

"Precisely," she shoved me. "Stop being overly clever; it is unattractive in a male."

"Stranger danger!" I shouted (still in the elevator) as I backed into the far corner. "Stranger danger!"

"If I had a gun, I would shoot you," she glared. There was a glimmer of amusement as well.

"At this range, you would probably miss," I taunted her playfully.

Desiree trembled with conflicting emotions. She gave in, stepped up and punched me in the chest. I kept laughing so she hit me again, but she was letting a tiny smile creep across her lips too.

"Damn you," she ground her teeth, fighting her happiness. "Fine. Cáel, to my side." There I went.

"Kneel." I knelt. The elevator doors opened, Desiree stepped out, turned to gaze into my eyes then cruelly smiled as the doors shut and the elevator continued up. The looks I got from women as they accessed the device was priceless. It took a while for one to break the silence.

"What are you doing?" she inquired.

"My boss told me to kneel here," I explained, "so here I kneel. In nine hours, if I can still walk, I'm going home and taking a long, hot bath."

"You are just going to stay there for nine hours?" another woman groused.

"I'm an intern. An order is an order and it isn't like she's forgotten where she left me."

"Our male intern isn't nearly this nice," a third lady commented. "We call him the Chinchilla. When he isn't acting as if he's somehow valuable, he scurries about like a rodent." That would be Brian I was willing to bet. The women in the elevator were suddenly self-conscious they'd talked that way around another male intern.

"Do you have a nickname?" the third one tried to make light of the faux-pas.

"I think there are three in the running: 'come here', 'kneel', and 'shut up'. When I hear one of those, I assume they are talking to me," I joked. They snickered. God, I could have an orgy in this elevator. Thank goodness my libido was still slaked from nailing Ulyssa the teacher.

"Where are you?" Desiree snapped over the phone eight minutes later. I had her on speaker.

"I'm right where you left me," I grinned. There was a new crowd in my box. I was getting the impression the word of my fate was circulating around the building and women were slipping over to see for themselves.

"Are you an idiot?" she grumbled.

"I'll leave the evaluation of my mental facilities to the experts, oh glorious Boss of mine," I replied. "I would like to report there are two wonderful ladies from International Finance putting a shipping label on me as we speak," I lied. From the look of one of the ladies, that wasn't such a bad, or far-fetched, idea.

"Stand. Get off the elevator on the fourteenth floor and go to Conference Room L," Desiree commanded. "Do you need to write out your orders in crayon?"

"I'd prefer you use body paint," I bantered. The ladies around me didn't know what to make of the exchange.

"81 days, Jackass," Desiree promised balefully.

"I tremble in anticipation - no, wait, that's fear," I snorted in amusement.

"You are very irreverent," a lady onboard observed. This wasn't a good thing in her mind.

"I apologize, Ma'am. Reverence required me to become a eunuch and no job is worth my jewels in a jar," I bowed.

"I will report your poor attitude and mockery of your assignment to Tessa," she vowed.

"Very well, Ma'am..." I started.

"Astarte," she gave her name.

"Very well, Astarte."

"Please consider that I am doing precisely what I've been told to do and that my humor has made multiple travelers on this elevator smile," I continued. "Happy employees are more productive employees and barring being given something productive to do with my time, I've decided to give busy women a small bit of amusement."

Astarte had no good comeback to my defense. I didn't doubt Katrina and Tessa would get hate mail no matter what I said. The fourteenth floor job turned out to be transporting something from a director's safe to a bank vault. Drudgery followed \- laundry, dinners, delivering a new car (I drove the company car back; Desiree drove the new car), picking up my suits and ending off where the day began - school.

I had barely exited the car when I heard a little girl scream "There's my Daddy". I sensed this was going to be a problem in the future. Aya didn't come running up to me. No, she made sure every classmate she could reach knew her 'Daddy' was here to take her home. Things got 'better' when she and some friends approached.

"Mr. Ruger (Aya's family name), is it true you are a spy?" a rather aggressive male classmate asked. I took a deep breath. My gaze made Aya looked down, embarrassed. I could sense her tormentors closing in. I knelt in front of Aya and tilted her chin up so we were eye to eye.

"Now, Sugar," I addressed her, "we've had this discussion before. You can't tell people what Daddy does. That would put a lot of good people's lives in danger."

"I expected better of you, Aya. You must never tell strangers what I do for a living. Don't forget that," I chastised her. Turning my focus to the surrounding children, "Forget that Aya ever told you I was a spy. Otherwise, bad things might happen to our family. Understood?"

They nodded; eyes wide with shock and fear.

See, Aya's Daddy WAS a spy, but no one could talk about it or people would die. In the eyes of a nine year old, that was so cool, if scary. The thing was, I hadn't lied. I had been evasive. We had been on the road for two minutes when Loraine conveyed a concept she was having difficulty with.

"Thank you, Cáel," she told me. "That was a very nice thing you did for Aya." I had to think of the clearest way to express why I had done what I had done, circumstances included.

"I'm not a father, but if I was and Aya was my daughter, I would defend her as the situation warranted - physically, or verbally."

"They pay you to be with us," Europa grumbled. I laughed - hard enough to hurt my sides.

"Europa, Havenstone doesn't have enough money to keep me on this job," I chuckled.

"Why do you do it then?" Loraine leaned forward.

"If I make it three months, I get a date with Desiree," I lied.

"Do you think she's pretty?" Europe prodded.

"No. She scares me. If I quit, I have to take her out on a date the next day," I continued fibbing.

"Stay at Havenstone. You can do better than dating a half-breed," Loraine stated. I digested that.

"Loraine, your weakness sickens me," I gave her a pained look. "Unsettling an opponent is acceptable. Insulting an ally is a quality of an immature and insecure mind."

"You don't talk to me like that," Loraine spat.

"Or what" I mocked her? "Are we going to stop the car and take this fight to the sidewalk?"

"If we do that, I'm going to spank your pathetic ass and we both know it," I grumbled. "No, you'll have to hide behind Desiree and her sisters - the women you just insulted with an issue that is no one's business but hers. Are you going to show some courage and agree to fight me, or are you going to be worthy of your family, show some respect and apologize?"

"I don't want her apology," Desiree stated blandly.

"I'm not doing it for you," I told Desiree. "I'm doing it for her. She should have the chance to not grow up ignorant and rude." Loraine was forming up an angry retort.

"Cáel, please stop," Aya pleaded.

"Of course, Aya," I smiled at her.

"We are not finished. You are the one who is rude and ignorant," Loraine persisted. I ignored her. "I'm going to get you fired." Ignored again. "Say something!" Kept ignoring her. She hit my shoulder. Ignored yet again. She finally sat back in her seat, crossed her arms and sulked.

"Why won't you talk to my sister?" Europa inquired. I assumed she meant Loraine.

"Economy of motion," I answered. "She's not listening to me and she's upsetting Aya. Arguing with Loraine would only upset Aya more while accomplishing nothing."

"You are a jerk," Loraine seethed. Oh fuck...I knew that tone. How could I have missed it?

"She thinks you are hot," Europa smirked. Ah, sibling rivalry. Loraine prepared to hit Europa.

"In two more years I can tell her what a beautiful young woman she is," I 'told' Europa. "For now, I work for her family and she's underage."

"You think I'm beautiful?" Loraine perked up, anger forgotten. Oh, the wonder of teenage hormones.

I didn't respond to Loraine, which renewed her fury.

"Do you think I'm prettier?" Aya jumped in.

"Well, you don't have Loraine's deep blue eyes and Junior Miss physique, but you have the cuter smile and the boundless spirit of a winner," I winked at Aya. Loraine flipped back to pleased.

"What about me?" Europa prodded.

"Oh, you are a total hag," I sighed sadly. "It hurts me to look at you." Europa's jaw dropped then she hit me repeatedly.

"I give. I give," I surrendered. The conflict was resolved for the rest of the trip.

Aya was upset that Desiree wouldn't let me take her into the family's brownstone. After the chore was done, Desiree was non-communicative. I made it through the End of Day meeting intact with the hint that I actually did a good job. A bizarre conflict developed as I made my way to the elevator in my biking gear and a bulging dress bag - I was taking a taxi home.

Buffy and Helena collided with the 'new hires' over who had the right to bombard me with sexual innuendo. I dodged any discussion on Rhada, blushed through my hart cords saga as well as my solo attempt at moose hunting, and all fishing expeditions concerning my dinner with Katrina.

~

Chapter Seven

Evening Wednesday, Day 3 of 84

In the middle of my workout back at home, I got a call from the Desk Sergeant's daughter. Her name was Nikita Kutuzov - NYPD rookie patrolwomen and she exuded this raw confidence tempered with a suspicious nature. We agreed to meet for dinner. When we sat down at this Polish deli she frequented, she got down to brass tacks.

"Have you ever been in a committed relationship?" was her lead in question.

"Define a committed relationship," I countered.

"The answer would be 'no'," she sighed.

"Why should I go out with you?" was her next point of attack.

"I have a plethora of bizarre knowledge, I laugh at danger and have an incessant desire to learn," I answered. That won me some points.

"How much do you make a year?" she inquired.

"Go to the bathroom, take off your panties then come back and give them to me," I responded.

Her eyes narrowed.

"Your request was about as rude as mine," I sighed. "Listen, if you are looking for an excuse to not go out with me, I'll spill some water on the table, you can tell your mother I was clumsy and call it a night," I suggested. She glared, I looked bored then she got up and left.

I wasn't worried for a second. A girl hadn't dumped me on the first date in three years. When she returned Nikita passed her undies under the table. I took the offering and deftly pocketed them.

"$237,000 a year," I confessed. Nikita choked on her soda. "I do dangerous work."

When I said 'fat paycheck' I meant 'FAT PAYCHECK'. In retrospect, this was the shiny lure they hooked us pompous 'Cream of the Crop' doofuses with. My pay was probably a clerical error as I would have taken the job for far less.

"But you just got out of college," she choked. "Do you weapon test plutonium, or what?"

"I really can't talk about my job, Nikita. Most of it is mindless stuff a trained chimpanzee could do yet falls within the purview of corporate confidentiality," I told her. "I am on call 24/7, which is a bit sucky - reference my salary again. I also get long- and short-term disability, major medical, eye, dental and health insurance plus a generous life insurance policy and a 401K."

"They have you doing illegal things, don't they?" she leaned across the table.

"I refuse to answer on the grounds I'm on a date with a law enforcement agent," I parried.

"I can't date a criminal," she cautioned.

"Would it help if I promise to never get caught?" I tried to look innocent.

"That's a ringing endorsement for me leaving right now," she grinned. She wasn't doing that. They never did. It is not that women are sluts. I exude the promise of great, guilt-free sex and each one believes they are going to be the one that reels me in and tames me. This despite all the evidence to the contrary - namely that I do this with every woman I meet.

We finished eating, bought some drinks to go and took a walk. Somewhere along the way, I slipped my arm around her waist. Nikita took thirty seconds to bring it up.

"What's with this?" she prodded.

"I like the feel of your body close to mine, Nikita. If it bothers you, I'll stop," I offered.

She didn't stop me; she reciprocated the gesture and carried on. We talked about growing up; me in Chicago and her in New York City, missing one parent (her father divorced her mom, my mother having died of cancer) and having the other parent work long hours. She'd graduated from Queens College with a degree in Criminal Justice then gone to the Police Academy - she was a year older than me.

We parted ways outside the Deli. I gave her a tender French kiss. She wanted more. I wanted a second date so we parted ways with Nikita looking over her shoulder and grinning at me as she walked away. Girls like it when you only have eyes for them. My bicycle had barely gotten on the road home when my phone rang - work.

I had to go to corporate and meet up with Desiree. I called her and gave her my location - I was in the wrong direction, farther from the workplace than normal. She grudgingly agreed the best course of action was to come get me, though the purpose of the assignment wasn't given. Desiree didn't utter a word as she picked me up and drove to the work site.

We ended up at the children's house. Desiree parked the car and led me, in my bike clothes, up the steps of the townhouse. The looks we were greeted with weren't promising. The woman at the door was an older version of Loraine - not her twin but closely related. I had barely crossed the door sill when the nature of the problem became evident.

Aya was screaming. Desiree and I were kept in the entryway for a minute until a more mature woman came gliding down the stairs, clearly steamed and, upon seeing me, livid with rage.

"What have you done to my child?" the older woman seethed.

"I'm not sure what you are talking about," I answered.

"He did nothing more than his job," Desiree's defense of me came out of nowhere. "He engaged himself in the welfare of your daughter. I was there the entire time."

"Come this way," the older woman beckoned. Desiree, the woman from the door and me followed her up two flights of stairs to Aya's room.

Loraine and Europa had stepped out of their rooms and were observing us.

"There," the woman - Mom - pointed me into the room.

"Cáel," Aya squealed. "You came." She was sitting in bed with her arms outstretched. I crossed the distance, sat down and hugged her.

"Now what seems to be the problem?" I tapped her nose.

"I...I - ah - wanted you to tuck me in," she mumbled.

"As your Daddy or as Cáel" I questioned?

"As my Daddy," she murmured.

"I am not your Daddy, Aya," I explained. "I am your friend, and your guardian upon occasion, but I am not worthy of being your Father. You are a very special girl and I am the son of a working stiff from Chicago. With your Mom's and Katrina's permission, I would gladly help you convince the World that I am your Daddy. We must remember that this is not real, okay?"

"Why can't you be my real Daddy?" Aya asked. 'Because your Mommy would bite my dick off' didn't seem the politically correct thing to say.

"Life can be very harsh, Aya. We all face different challenges. Since life has not provided you with a Daddy, you must find a way to get by without one," I said. "Now let me tuck you in."

We hugged; I tucked her in, kissed her on her forehead then waited around a few seconds while she held my adult hand in her tiny mitt. As I left, the Mother cut off the light and shut the door.

"Good night, Cáel," Europa and Loraine called out. I waved, but kept my peace. Downstairs, it was a bit less pleasant.

"I will report this egregious breech of conduct to Katrina. You are dismissed," she waved her hand.

"Really?" I perked up.

"Cáel, don't," Desiree cautioned me.

"Oh, come on," I pleaded. "Desiree, what is the penalty for tucking a little girl into bed? Wait - wait, are they going to get me for NOT embarrassing a child in public? Is it because I accepted a female's gender-appropriate pet name?"

"Shut up," Desiree demanded sedately.

"Yes ma'am - Desiree," I sighed.

"The charges will be murdering our patience, insolence, irreverence and not being able to follow simple commands \- like 'Cáel don't'," she explained. I could swear she was mocking our hostess except that wasn't like Desiree. She had no sense of humor.

"Do you think this is funny, Half-blood?" Mom mocked.

"No. He is a jester and I'm superior to him because, unlike you, Pure-blood, I can tell the difference between his juvenile antics and him being a viable threat," Desiree reposed. "Funny is Cáel throwing his body on top of your eldest daughter, sacrificing himself to save her life only to be treated by you as a common household pest."

"It was a test," Mom said.

"He didn't know that," Desiree countered, "or are you claiming he fooled me and the entire security detail?" Insulting Desiree was okay in Mom's book. Insinuating those stone-cold bitches that scared the crap out of me this morning were incompetent wasn't.

"I repeat, you are dismissed," Mom seethed. This time we took our leave. Desiree remained lost in her own thoughts as she drove me home.

"Thank you," I said when we were close.

"For what?" she murmured.

"No specific cause. I reason that if I say 'thank you' a few thousand times, one day you'll say it to me," I looked at her through the corner of my eye.

"Hold your breath," Desiree commanded. "Hold your breath until I repeat the words 'thank you'."

There was really no way around that. I practiced breath-control techniques I had learned from swimming and diving, making the most of what air I had. Desiree was heartless. I broke the two minute mark, which wasn't bad given my lack of preparation. I leaned forward, panting for breath and looking down.

"You might want to appreciate that you are not perfect, can't do everything and should reacquaint yourself with your limitations," Desiree commented.

"Thank you, Desiree," I gasped. That was some of the best advice I'd received on the job to date.

"You are welcome, Cáel," she said serenely. In her culturally limited way, Desiree had allowed me a tiny space in her world - Immature Student Lackey. "Be at work thirty minutes early." With that, I exited to my apartment and belatedly got to my workout. Timothy was out on a date so I had to bolt out of the shower to get whoever was at the door when the doorbell rang.

~

Chapter Eight

Late Wednesday, Day 3 of 84

"I must redeem my prestige by breaking your spirit, Cáel Nyilas," Rhada snarled then leapt to the attack. I was standing there, dripping wet, with my hand clenching the towel tightly around my waist; Mortal Combat - the pornographic edition. Rhada was feisty yet I had the feeling she was more into our fight as a contact sport than a real effort to subdue me.

I wasn't aware that there was an oral appliance that allowed you to give a blowjob without having the recipient bite your dick off. Timothy had one in his toy box. Rhada and I tried it out, but I got the feeling she didn't get much from the experience. I felt like I was at a glory hole. After that, things got better.

I clued in that Rhada's key focus of arousal was being forced to pleasure me. Under threat of something horrible (mostly in her imagination), hands bound behind her back, she'd fuck me in every imaginable way and she was even becoming passible at fellatio. Binding her legs was actually counterproductive. If I wanted to pin her legs, she liked it if I wrestled with her.

I keep pushing myself to keep up with her. When someone screamed in pain, my gut instinct was to succor them. For Rhada, it was a signal for her wanting more. I'd really helped her through some serious frustrations, and a great deal of sweat, when the phone rang. Rhada was facing me, bouncing in my lap with her ball gag back in (she liked to bite during climax).

"Hello?" I said.

"Hey Cáel Nyilas, it is Odette. Whatchya doing tonight?" my waitress bed-buddy asked.

"I'm bored out of my skull, doing something worthless," I answered. "Do you want to come over, or do we want to meet at your place tonight?"

"Ah - um - I live at home with my parents," she confessed.

"Come on over. I need to clean up a mess first," I told her. "See you soon." With that, I hung up and looked into Rhada's eyes. "You really are a worthless mess." She sobbed. "What are you crying about you disgraced harlot? Are you surprised I'd want to be with a real woman?"

"You are a disgusting piece of filth so that's how you deserve to be treated; not like a true tower of femininity," I continued to press her buttons. She was really upset and absolutely erotically active. I was starting to get worried about the vigor she was pounding me with. Sadly, I had some plans to implement before Odette arrived. I kept Rhada on my lap, swiveled us off the bed and fished out a few restraints.

Rhada wrapped her powerful legs around my waist. Using a combination of thigh, stomach and vaginal muscles, the Indian Princess kept working my cock with every bit of imagination she could muster. We traveled out to the workout area. I leaned over the weight bench, pressed Rhada down and put a hand around her throat.

Honestly, all this cruelty and humiliation was grating on me. Sure, I knew Rhada was evil, as was her entire culture. The thing was, I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. I didn't think I had it in me to harm, or murder, a person who was not an immediate threat. The reality was twofold. If I didn't do this for Rhada, she'd find someone else who would, with the likelihood of grievous harm coming to her.

Also, I could do without her holding a grudge for my kicking her ass then rejecting her amorous advances. For now, I played her game with the added benefit that tonight was a 'freebie' - not in my cue.

"Bitch, I'm going to tie you down and ruin you until you can't walk straight. Fight back and I'm going ram two dildos into you and leave them on all night long," I threatened.

I could see her thinking about it as I gave her some more crushed ice to drink. In the end, she allowed her feet to be bound separately then her hands bound together over her head. Once she was secure, I leaned in and whispered in her ear.

"I lied, Rhada. I'm going to shove two vibrators in anyway," Rhada thrashed about against her bonds.

After lubing up both sex toys, I worked them into her pussy and ass. She wiggled and shifted about a few times, but her heart wasn't in it. She was too clearly looking forward to the torturous pleasure coming her way. I cut them both on then, because I could, I put on three vibrating eggs; one on her clit and the others for each nipples. That drove her wild. I readied the last part of my plan.

"Rhada," I leaned in and spoke softly, "I'm putting your phone in your hand. Press the 'send' button and it will call my phone. I'll come get you. Don't drop it. Rhada?" Her wild eyes flashed about, gained some clarity and met my gaze. She nodded her understanding. Now I had to worry that she would drop the phone on purpose just to add to her torment.

I drew the makeshift curtain that separated our workout space from the rest of the living room, cut on the TV to mute the sound of moaning and vibrators. While cleaning up in the bathroom, I realized I had to dump my condom. Doing two girls with the same one was beyond thoughtless and gross.

My drawstring shorts were barely cinched up when the doorbell rang. Thankfully it was Odette. Extra special was Odette wanted to get freaky with me - she brought a dildo and some lube. The problem with having a vast variety of sex was that fewer and fewer things were new and remembering how exciting it was your first time with a given kink gets tougher.

Odette decided that conversation was overrated as she waltzed through the door. She showed me her toy, grabbed my hand and led me to my bedroom. I helped her undress, which she liked. Then she threw me down and raped me. She was even all excited about rolling her first condom on. She hadn't been a virgin last night, only lacking in confidence.

Tonight, she was a beast (in her mind). After our first noisy, moist round, Odette 'discovered' another pleasure; namely sitting up, riding my cock and getting into an in depth discussion about our relationship - sigh. When a woman thinks it is casual sex it is casual sex. When a man thinks it is casual sex it could be any Goddamn thing.

To Odette's credit, she was willing to talk about things she'd like to do, didn't get too upset when she finally pried out of me that I'd been with more than a dozen women, and she took suggestions well. She liked to talk about mutual interests, cuddled without being needy and asked if what she was doing made me feel good in a way that didn't make her sound insecure.

At 2:10 my phone buzzed. Odette barely murmured then rolled over and went back to sleep. It was Rhada. Sneaking out wasn't so difficult. I stealthed to the bathroom, got a wet wash cloth and a towel, followed that up with a trip to get some chilled bottled water and finished up at Rhada's side.

She was barely there at all. My hands flew over her body in the dim light then I pulled her into my lap on the floor.

"Rhada" I called to her gently?

"Kill you," she whispered. She was okay.

In my sleep-deprived state I missed her initially looking at me. Her eyes were unfathomable. I pressed the water to her lips and let her drink in small sips. Five minutes later, she was in better shape mentally and physically.

"Why?" she asked.

"Sometimes it is a matter of why not?" I replied.

"You hate me," she furrowed her brow.

"What gave you that idea?" I reposed.

"You are a man...you don't hate me?" she struggled to breach our cultural divide.

"Rhada, I can't speak for all men, but I don't hate you. I have no intention of destroying you," I paused. "I'm working on a way to suspend you off the ground blindfolded next time. Tarnishing your prestige is not on my agenda though."

"Do you like causing me pain?" she studied me. That was a tough one both from my perspective and hers.

"I treasure every orgasm I rip from your body, Rhada," I breathed into her ear. It was the best I could do. For Rhada it was enough.

She wasn't suicidal, only ravenous in her need to surrender to her taboo desires. Her not being on the edge of death with me lessened her thrill. It also meant she could live long enough to have all kinds of other thrills. This was the bargain we were making. How I was going to live up to it was going to be intriguing.

Maybe I could bill Katrina for the needed playroom upgrades. What the future held was coming with the dawn. First I had to make sure Rhada was clear-headed and ambulatory. Then came the trip to her auto and her fiery kiss and body hug. Rhada liking me was okay. Rhada getting attached to me was one more headache I didn't need.

~

Chapter Nine

Thursday, Day 4 of 84

I slipped out of bed, preparing for the trip to the shower when I stepped out and saw Timothy and this black guy I didn't know doing a soft porn version of me and Rhada. Timothy was sleepily amused. His date was anything but.

"I thought you weren't seeing anyone?" he said in a thick Caribbean accent.

"That's my roommate," Timothy snorted; "my straight roommate."

What can I say, I'm really good looking.

"I am, Dude," I promised. "I have a girl in my bed and everything. Hell, I didn't even know what the Village Voice was until last night."

Timothy laughed. His date was still pissed. Timothy gave his date a final kiss the guy barely accepted. I made for the shower. When I came out, Timothy was in his bathrobe sitting on the sofa.

"Whoops," I shrugged. This was the first date I'd seen him on since moving in.

"Better to know they are the jealous kind before I invest too much time," Timothy sighed. "He is beautiful and great in bed. He's also in total denial and now jealous. I won't be returning his calls." I sat down on the sofa next to Timothy and gave him a man-bump.

"Sorry, Bro. Better luck next time," I consoled him.

"How many ladies was it last night?" Timothy muttered. He knew I was 'ambitious'.

"Five - wait, what is the age of consent in this state again?" I grinned.

"Ah, fuck," Timothy shook his head. "If the cops coming busting down the door..."

"Funny you would say that," I chuckled. "Another one is a cop."

"Bro, you have a death wish. Cops do background checks and carry guns," he laughed.

"Her mom is a cop too," I informed him. He shook his head some more.

"Death wish," he mumbled then headed for the shower. Comparatively, the ride to work was bland and uneventful. I was clever enough to change before setting foot in the Executive Services section.

I arrived with two minutes to spare and I was still the last person to arrive. Katrina was at her desk, Desiree was on the sofa and the security team leader from yesterday and one of her aides were sitting in the chairs in front of Katrina.

"Come stand beside me," Katrina said. I walked over with the added benefit that no one gave any notice of my movements.

"Cáel, how did you feel about the exercise yesterday morning?" Katrina began.

"First off, I don't know these ladies' names," I said. Katrina looked at them. Clearly the two were one step above resenting every breath I took.

"Elsa," the leader stated.

"Constanza," her aide replied. I bowed my head to Elsa.

"Elsa, I apologize for my rash words to you, my attitude and any disgrace I put upon either Katrina and/or Desiree," I pled. "I have no excuse." That seemed to have screwed the two new ladies up. Desiree snorted. Katrina had no reaction. I could hear Elsa grind her teeth.

"Come between me and a charge again and I will kill you," Elsa glared.

"Come after a charge of mine I'll make you earn it," I snapped back.

"Only Katrina is keeping you alive at this moment," Elsa stood up as did Constanza.

"Really?" I sneered. "Katrina, please fire me. I need to take out the trash."

"Cáel kneel," Katrina ordered so I knelt.

"This was a waste of time," Elsa grumbled.

"Elsa, you scored Cáel at a 92%," Katrina offered.

"92 out a 1000," I muttered.

"No, you idiot," Desiree sighed. "It was stated as a percentage. Try and act your age." Katrina coughed in surprised amusement. I thought Desiree being so verbose this early in the morning was the cause.

"What did he get wrong?" Katrina mused. "It is in your report. I want you to tell him."

"He ignored his initial instinct to retire to the dwelling, he failed to issue orders to his charges, he missed his partner going down, and he reloaded before his clip was empty," she detailed.

"How many current members of the security detail have scored higher on their initial trial?" Katrina persisted. There was a long pause.

"One - me," Elsa answered. I was impressed - with myself. I had the inbred instincts to get myself killed for people who hated me. I snickered.

"You find something amusing?" Katrina looked at me.

"In retrospect, I should have realized it was a test. Come on, I don't have a gun license, no serious firearms training and the vast majority of Havenstone personnel hate my guts," I explained my humor. "There was no realistic way I would be assigned to guard kids."

"I'm so used to being treated like shit here, I missed the obvious," I concluded. Another pause.

"Why did you break cover to tackle Loraine? You abandoned Aya and Europa," Elsa asked.

"I wasn't really thinking about it," I answered. "I saw her in the open, in danger, and I had the other two crouched down next to the car. I leapt. Sorry, it was nothing more complicated than that."

"What did you think when you saw Desiree lying on the ground?" Elsa prodded.

"Crap - ah," I tried to recall. "Nothing really. I noticed the one woman to the North still standing. I wanted to kill her then roll over and shoot the two to the South."

"They would have killed you," Constanza informed me.

"As opposed to what? I mistakenly thought I had bullets," I shrugged. "While I had any chance I had to keep fighting."

"You could have surrendered?" Elsa studied me.

"You wouldn't have. Why should I?" I responded.

"You are not me in so many relevant ways," Elsa stated. Desiree gave an infinitesimal groan.

"Don't worry about it," I nodded. "Despite your failings, I'm still willing to accept you as an equal."

"That is a deadly insult," Elsa seethed.

"Oh, look," I came back with a predatory grin, "you're angry. Kind of the way I am having done a bang up job only to have you belittle my performance despite having no training, or warning. Believing you are better than me because you have tits makes as much sense as me thinking that having a dick makes you the weaker sex. Its bigotry and stupid. Worse, it is a tactical flaw."

"Tell me," Katrina rose up majestically, "that his last three sentences make no sense. Please, lie to me and say the man is wrong." Elsa didn't respond. "I asked you to test his instincts and you gave him the second hardest test we have and that's only because I vetoed the hardest. If you honestly think he cannot help us, make that pledge now." Another pause.

"He hit everything he aimed at," Elsa suddenly volunteered. "It was all close range. He didn't panic and he never left mission. If he had tits, I would have been impressed. I am still opposed to him having a weapon. His attitude is also grating."

"I have to work with him," Desiree complained.

"If I express to Hayden the possibility that those men who pass Security testing be allowed to be trained with weapons, will you support me?" Katrina requested.

"Never!" Elsa exclaimed.

"Thank you for your opinion and honesty, Elsa," Katrina nodded. "I will see you later."

The two security experts left the room.

"Stand," Katrina sighed. I stood. "You gave it your best shot, I know. Do not trouble yourself with doubts, Cáel Nyilas. No attitude you could have taken would have altered her thinking in the slightest."

"Huh?" I mumbled. Katrina looked at me. My grin was infectious. "Sorry, did you say something? I was visually evaluating their potential as they were leaving the room." Translation: I was scoping out their muscular asses as they sauntered out the door. Paula and Daphne walked in.

"Cáel, do not talk about your activity yesterday morning, or of the events this morning with anyone," Katrina ordered. I nodded. I made for my desk but Katrina stopped me. In the same manner, she requested that Desiree stay. Three minutes before seven, the last new hire arrived, Violet.

"Everyone except Desiree, Daphne and Cáel leave the room. I will summon you back in a few minutes," Katrina commanded. Confused and curious, the other new hires left the room. As the door shut, she had Daphne secure the lock while she drew forth a folded piece of paper which she unfolded and handed to me. Wow, I had never thought I'd see my death sentence yet here it was.

"Read it," she demanded. Yes, I was boned.

"These are the words of Katrina, daughter of Sedona, granddaughter of Andromeda of the House of Epona, First Bearer of the Sun Spear through the Halls of Night and Death..." followed by a series of awards, accolades and honors I could barely fathom the importance of.

I read it in the language it was written as this was clearly Katrina's intent. Desiree scooted to the edge of the sofa cushion. Daphne's eyes were wide, exhibiting the spectrum of excitement, fear and amazement. She spoke first.

"You got the 'uh' wrong," Daphne corrected me. "It is 'Andromadu' in our tongue, not 'Andromeda'."

"Well this makes a few things make a lot more sense," Desiree mumbled.

"Katrina," Daphne gulped. "You didn't teach him, did you?"

"No. It was Dr. Kimberly Geisler of Bolingbrook College who taught him - so they could read erotic poetry to one another," Katrina revealed. "He was never her student \- in a classroom."

"Cáel not only speaks four current languages (French, Spanish, and Russian), he also is fluent in ten dead ones," Katrina related. "Dr. Geisler and I had a long chat last night. Once she opened up, she was quite informative and full of praise for our new hire."

Daphne blathered something while looking at me expectantly.

When I didn't respond she became disappointed. Then it hit me.

"You are translating from the Coptic, aren't you?" I questioned.

"Yes," I had her intense attention once more.

"What you meant to say was 'may the blessed Isis bring understanding with this greeting'," I translated for her into New Kingdom Egyptian.

"Once you get to Coptic you have so much Macedonian/Ptolemaic influence it is far beyond New Kingdom Egyptian," I added.

"Oh...that makes sense," Daphne nodded. "I - uh - thank you."

"Well, if I live I can give you lessons," I smirked.

"About that," Desiree stood up. "Why is he still alive?" What Katrina said surprised me.

"I've waited twelve years to see you smile, Desiree," she gave her underling a look full of wisdom and compassion.

"Sympathy is nice," Desiree countered. "We must be hard to survive."

"Desiree, I wanted you here because you have always opposed my initiative to save our people. Unlike most of us, you have lived fully in their world. Because of our companionship and your knowledge, I have always valued your council. Has nothing changed?" Katrina kept her voice precise and level. Desiree stood up, clearly furious, and took a step toward me.

"You make no sense!" she shouted, pointing at me. A dozen comebacks welled up in my mind yet were discarded as inappropriate.

"I apologize for causing you pain, Desiree," I met her gaze. Desiree gave a raw, guttural scream of agony and rage. She wasn't bawling, still tears rolled down her cheeks.

"I don't know why you chose me to hear this, Katrina. Our houses are not aligned. Still, if I get a vote, I say we find a way to make this work for us - our people and this directive," Daphne spoke up.

"Your bravery, wonderful attitude and ability to approach problems with an open mind is why I chose you, Daphne," Katrina explained.

"How long have you known?" Desiree muttered.

"Tuesday night..." Katrina began.

"Not you, Katrina...my apology. I meant...him," Desiree interrupted.

"About twenty seconds into the opening prayer at the board meeting," I tried to look inoffensive.

"He heard the Prayer of Ancestors?" Desiree wailed. "You haven't even taught me that yet!"

"Yes, he did. At the time, I had no idea that he knew our ancestral tongue. On the next recruitment drive we need to find a clever way to figure out if they do speak any dead languages so we can avoid this near-catastrophe," Katrina said.

"It is only the three - four of us who know?" Daphne asked. I was almost discounted.

"I believe Dr. Geisler suspects something is amiss," Katrina replied. "I impressed upon her the need for discretion, plus not to contact Cáel for a week. I need the time to position us properly for when this issue comes out."

"They'll kill him," Daphne gasped. Wow, Daphne actually cared.

"We cannot save him," Katrina explained. "It is not within our power, or mandate. What we must do is figure out a way to make Cáel acceptable to our people."

"Good plan. I like this plan. Why don't you let me go to the armory so I can do some last minute Christmas shopping?" I chuckled. "I'll be right back."

"If you make it to Christmas," Desiree sighed, "I will consent to a date with you."

"Desiree, I think that qualifies as assisted suicide," I teased. "If we make it to Christmas Eve, I'll let you push me off the Empire State Building to spare us both that agony."

"That's not nice," Katrina chided me. "Desiree is an excellent woman."

"Oh, I agree. My worry is that after one night of passion with her no other woman will compare," I looked worried. Desiree punched me in the upper arm. I grabbed one of her tits. I'd gone down this road with Buffy and I wasn't going to relent on my sexual stupidity now.

"You are grabbing her breast," Daphne gasped.

"Ow," I flinched then evaded her block for another squeeze of breast, "she's hitting me...Ow...so since she's enjoying herself...Ow...so I'm doing the same...Ow."

"Grow up," Desiree growled but her eyes were shining with amusement.

"But if I remain a child I'll eventually evoke your mothering instinct," I snickered.

"Cáel, you do realize that your life is hanging by a thread, don't you?" Daphne gawked.

"Daphne, you would be surprised how many chicks you can pick up with the line 'I laugh at death' when you really mean it," I smiled.

"Does that actually work?" Daphne was dubious.

"Daphne, I was romantically involved with four different women yesterday, not counting Aya, Europa, Loraine and Desiree," I enlightened her. I only had sex with three of them. That was only because I am trying to have something approaching a normal relationship with the fourth."

"You screwed Aya's teacher, didn't you?" Desiree glared.

"Ummm - I was applying positive incentives to induce Ms. Reichmann into taking special care of Aya," I elaborated. "Did I do wrong?"

"Cáel, what is going to happen to Aya if Ms. Reichmann becomes upset with you?" Katrina posed.

"School is only going to last two more weeks," I assured her. "I can keep things going until then. I mean, eventually she'll hate me - all women do, but I can take care of things for two weeks." The women around me were curious about the start of that last statement. "I've had one female friend that lasted more than three months my entire life."

"Why is that?" Daphne asked. "I like you. You are good-looking, smart and funny if a bit too brutally honest."

"Believe me, juggling eight different romantic entanglements is hellish. Eventually some of them figure out what I'm doing with the others. Then it is Tartarus time," I sighed.

"What would you do if you discovered that along with having sex with you, I was also having separate liaisons with Violet and Buffy?" I postulated.

"I would be okay with it. You're a male - sex is your primary function," Daphne related. I had the feeling she'd been waiting to get that last bit off her well-endowed chest.

"What would you do if I was also having a relationship with Rhada?" I tossed out there.

"I'd kill you," Daphne's certainty pierced me. Good to know.

"Cáel, are you having sexual relations with Rhada?" Katrina prodded.

"I'd rather pull out my shoelaces and go hang myself in your bathroom than discuss that, Katrina," I stated as I looked down in shame.

"Don't worry about it," Katrina assured me.

"What!" Desiree snarled. "He's having sex with Rhada and you want to ignore it?"

"Desiree, what do you want me to do? Acknowledge an affair that NO ONE wants to acknowledge," Katrina pointed out. "It isn't as if he is unaware of the delicacy of the situation, either, or can do anything else to make him more dead."

"Desiree, let the rest know they can come in as you leave," Katrina concluded the matter. Desiree swept out like an atomic monsoon (I wasn't sure what one would look like; Desiree was otherwise indescribable). Somehow the other new hires figured out that Desiree's primal scowl of outrage was their invitation to return to Katrina's office.

The meeting began the way it always did. Stunningly, Desiree gave me yet another horrific job review. The mockery aimed my way was dampened by the reality that I was involved with something Katrina didn't want me to talk about. Getting Desiree to talk was hopeless so I could see the others ready to pounce on Daphne when we headed out to fulfill our daily cue.

I had Desiree and school duty again.

~

Chapter Ten

Thursday morning, Day 4 of 84

This time, I didn't have a gun. I did get mugged - on the landing. Aya wrapped her arms around me. Thankfully she squealed "Cáel!" not 'Daddy'. Desiree was impassive. Aya's two sisters were happy, yet more controlled in their enthusiasm.

"I'm glad you showed up," Europa poked me. "Pint-sized was freaking out during breakfast."

"I must admit I'm very happy to see you three this morning," I looking over the back seat and addressed Europa. "You might want to tell your sister her make-up is very tastefully done." Loraine attempted a sultry look.

"Wait, are you not talking to me again?" Loraine blinked.

"I'm talking to you, Loraine," I winked. "I was teasing."

"Am I still an old hag?" Europa bantered.

"Not sure, Europa. Aya is soaking up all the pretty," I teased. "It is so hard to tell." Fortunately, Europa was a good sport and Aya loved the praise. Less good was...

"Girls, don't look over your shoulders," I ordered calmly. "Desiree, a maroon van three cars back. They keep turning with us."

"Test," Desiree informed me. Saying 'it was a test' was too wordy for her. I didn't bother to ask her if I'd done well, or not.

"Please, please, please," I begged Desiree. "Can I have a sunroof and a rocket launcher? Please."

"Grow up," she grumbled.

"Yes, Mom," I groaned.

"You are the best," snickered Europa. "I wish I could go on dates. Loraine does too...with you," she got out before Loraine popped her.

"Do I get to be in the room when Loraine has that conversation with her Mother?" I mused.

"Are you going to ask my Mother if you can take me out?" Loraine beamed.

Desiree snorted. I was in for it now.

"Maybe Cáel can ask Momma out on a date and become our real Daddy," Aya suggested happily. I was going camping with this family. It would solve all my worries about my burial service.

"Momma is too old for Cáel," Loraine countered. Oh, joy.

"I'm not the best 'first date' material," I evaded. "Ah...what is your Momma's name?"

"Caitlyn," Europa provided. "Does that mean you will ask her out?"

"Not necessarily - see, I have the annoying habit of being amorously attracted to every woman I meet, so I'm not very romantically reliable," I explained.

"Does that mean you are sexually proficient?" Loraine inquired eagerly.

"Does that mean you are a slut?" Europa teased.

"Does that mean you'll sleep with my aunts, too?" Aya wondered.

"It means you are an idiot," Desiree muttered under her breath.

"I'd like to think so," to Loraine, "I hate labels," to Europa, "I have no idea," to Aya, "and thanks, Des," to finish things off.

"Maybe we could go on a test date this weekend," Loraine suggested.

"Why?" I grinned. "Are trying to see what I would look like 'test' dead?"

"No!" Aya blurted out. "They want you to be Daddies." Aya had screwed up, most likely relaying with her limited understanding what she'd overheard. Two female family members in the same house, yet no other children. Buffy and Helena...and Desiree being brought back in despite the shame to her prestige aka genetic purity.

"Cáel, she was making stuff up again," Loraine attempted damage control.

"No, I didn't," Aya protested. "I want Cáel to live."

"That can be answered with two questions, Loraine," I locked eyes with the sixteen year old.

"Cáel - do not do this," Desiree ordered.

"Sorry, Desiree; I think this falls in the 'I need to know' category," I defied her. "Loraine, do malformed female babies get tossed off the cliff alongside all the male babies." Loraine paled and gulped. Europa looked equally worried. Aya was afraid - afraid of my reaction.

"I apologize, Cáel. This is not something I can talk about," Loraine murmured.

"This is the point where you decide if I'm a human being, or some servitor creature," I studied her.

"I can't," Loraine repeated. I nodded then faced forward. There was silence for a while.

"Cáel, are you upset with us?" Europa inquired nervously. I looked back at her.

"My emotional status is of no relevance to my assignment, Europa," I replied dead-pan. "Will there be anything else?"

"Why are you acting this way?" Loraine groaned.

"I am a Havenstone employee, Loraine," I answered.

"I have no instructions to behave in any other fashion. I am sure if I have done anything inappropriate, you may report me to my boss, Desiree, or my department head, Katrina, so that I may be suitably disciplined," I informed her.

"Please don't talk like that," Aya sniffled.

"Aya, if I have upset you, please request another Havenstone employee on your next service order," I said. Aya began bawling. God, she was emotionally volatile.

"Desiree, make him stop," Loraine pleaded.

"Make him stop what? You don't want a man, you want a cuddly toy with 101 programmed warm, fuzzy responses," Desiree responded. "Toys don't go above, beyond, and even against their instructions to do a better job. You are getting exactly what your Mother has requested. You have a Havenstone employee. You can't afford the man who befriended you."

That was more than Desiree coming to my defense. She was trying to teach the children the harsh reality of life. Amazons, due to their conduct toward men, had to think of them as lesser beings. The sickness was more than tossing male and unfit female babies to their death, it was mothers handing their children over to be murdered.

"I apologize, Cáel," Loraine said softly.

"Okay," I replied crisply. More silence.

"Are you still angry with us?" Europa asked.

"I can still do my job, if that is what you are worried about," I told her. Aya wailed. I was starting to feel that Aya had mental issues that went beyond wanting a father.

"Yes," Loraine finally answered my question. I remained quiet. "Isn't that what you wanted to know?"

"No, Loraine; I wanted you to treat me as if I had some worth in your eyes," I sighed.

"I love you," Aya pleaded. I struggled and struggled and only one other societal model made sense.

I turned half-way around to look at the group once more.

"When is the trial?" I probed. No answer. "At some point as you are growing up, you ladies have to pass some sort of basic test. When is it?" My model was male yet still fit - Sparta.

"How do you know any of this?" Loraine wondered.

"I was actually hired because I'm bright," I stated in all seriousness, "along with good looks and being in excellent physical condition."

"Twelve," Europe filled me in. I didn't need to say anything. The two older sisters shot worried looks Aya's way.

"Your Aunt's are sterile, correct?" now Europa and Loraine flashed quick glances between them.

"Yes," Loraine muttered. "How did you...?"

"That's not important. What is important is that I will do my best to stick with Aya as long as I can," I informed them. I tapped Aya's nose. "Stop that crying. You are better than that."

"Sorry," she sniffed.

"No, you 'apologize' to show regret. 'Sorry' is for a flaw," I reminded Aya. "Don't go around school telling your classmates I'm a spy either."

"What do I tell them?" Aya gulped.

"Tell them I am not a spy. Insist that I'm not a spy. Loudly declare to everybody who asks that I am not a spy," I grinned. "Do you understand?" Aya didn't, but Europa did.

"Aya, by insisting that Cáel isn't a spy no matter what, everyone will believe he's a spy. It is the art of misinformation," Europa hugged her younger sibling.

"By saying he's not a spy, everyone will think he is a spy?" Aya appeared confused.

"Yes," Loraine assured her.

"Okay," Aya accepted the illusion. "You are still going to marry Momma, right?"

"I never said that," I protested. Aya smiled sweetly. I frowned. She became absolutely cherubic.

"I make no promises," I turned forward.

"Go for it," Desiree whispered. "Caitlyn is only one of Katrina's sisters." I make a point of trying not to cry in public. I continued to be depressed on how I failed to make crucial connections. Whose family, besides her own, would allow me this close? Damn, I couldn't keep playing catch-up.

"Katrina is your aunt?" I inquired quietly.

"She's my sister," Desiree stated. Watching Loraine, Europa and Aya acting together helped that make sense. Katrina felt responsible for Desiree in the same way Loraine looked out for Aya. Katrina's Mom had abandoned her when she fled with the man she loved.

When an aunt brought her back, Katrina had stood by the sister she'd never seen before because that was what sisters do. You saw a lot of that in Celtic societies. Epona was a Celtic name - a Goddess in fact.

"If you and Mom go on a date, I can come along as a chaperone," Loraine offered.

"I'm surprised you even know what a chaperone is," I grinned back.

"Sure we do," Europa giggled. "That's the one who holds the leash." Loraine blushed furiously.

"Don't say that," she chided Europa.

"Sis, I think he knows something is going on beyond Aya's Daddy issues," Europa countered.

"I deny everything," I proclaimed.

"He is as stupid as he looks," Desiree volunteered. By the surprised looks of Europa and Loraine, this was as frivolous as they'd ever seen Desiree act.

"That's not true," Aya protested. "Cáel is wonderful and he's going to make Momma very happy and be our Daddy."

"Yay," I said with muted enthusiasm. "I can envision our first date now."

"Would you mate with my mother?" Europa teased.

"That's not what I'm envisioning. I'm thinking about what my heart looks like, torn from my chest and held up to my dying gaze."

"No," Aya moped.

"We are joking, Aya," Europa hugged her sister. "We'd never let Momma take a knife with her on a date with Cáel."

"Yes, because fingernails hurt more," I scoffed. Europa hit me playfully.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" Loraine inquired.

"Yes. I met her on a job with Desiree - sort of - and we went out, ate a light dinner and walked and talked for over an hour afterwards. She's real nice," I related.

"Did you have sex?" Loraine was a bit distressed.

"Nope. I save the sex for all my other women in my life. No one at Havenstone," I somewhat lied. "I'd like to build a substantial rapport with this woman. Hopefully I won't screw it up, like I do every other relationship."

"Are you joking?" Europa prodded.

"No, not in the least. I like women. Women appear to like me," I shrugged.

"How long does it take you to romance a woman?" Loraine questioned.

"Quickest - three minutes," I answered. In fact, we were heading for that wonderful woman right now.

"How many women at Havenstone?" Loraine was becoming disillusioned.

"None. Oh God, I am not going to mix work with pleasure," I swore.

"80 days, Bitch," Desiree promised.

"80 days?" Europe inquired.

"In 80 days I cease being an intern, so it will no longer be against the rules for a woman at Havenstone to have a sexual relationship with me," I gulped.

"What are you going to do then?" Loraine asked.

"Hang from the ceiling like a Spider Monkey and watch them try to knock me down with sticks," I grinned. Europa snickered at the imagery.

"Honestly Loraine, there can be no 'us' until your eighteenth birthday. You are too young," I explained.

"Are you afraid of our Mother?" Loraine was oddly happier.

"Yes, but fear hasn't stopped me before," I assured her. "I am devoid of reason when presented with a pretty face."

"Wait," Loraine smiled. "Why isn't something going on between us right now?"

"Desiree put a block of C-4 in my underwear. If I misbehave, I'll be half the man I used to be," I warned them.

"Desiree, please don't blow his weenie off," Aya requested. Snorts and laughter echoed throughout the car.

"Oh, look," Desiree sighed in relief. "We are here." We'd made it to school again.

"Cáel, would you come with me to class," Aya begged.

"Cáel, for the love of the Goddess, can you try and make it back in a reasonable time frame," Desiree scowled. Europa and Loraine studied me inquisitively.

"Cáel, can you come to my homeroom as well?" Loraine teased.

"Me, too," Europa poked me.

"Give me your homerooms and I'll try to stop by," I pledged. When we got to Aya's homeroom, I could see that Ulyssa Reichmann was exceedingly excited that I'd returned.

"Aya, I need to talk to your Daddy for a few minutes. We'll be back soon," Ulyssa announced then proceeded to drag me back to the conference room. She finished a round of pulse-pounding passionate intercourse with...

"Would you like to go out on a date?" Ulyssa 'suggested'.

"I'd really like that," I responded because, you know, it wasn't like my social calendar wasn't confusing enough already. "Let's exchange digits and give me a call when you get off work today. Lunch times suck for me. Oh, I should warn you, in my first week here, they've given me the true meaning of working 24/7. I've been called in at 3 a.m. and worked until 10:30 at night - be warned."

"I'm good at all hours," she purred. "My roommate and I stay up late all the time." Please be a guy, please be a guy.

"Is he a nice guy?" I prayed.

"No, Silly," she kissed me. "My roommate is my older sister." Please be a crone, please be a crone. "Here is a picture of her." Of course...she was a stone-cold fox.

"What's her fiancé like?" I sobbed internally.

"She just got over a messy break up. She's been very depressed," Ulyssa informed me. That's what I needed. It wasn't like a gorgeous roommate in need of comfort had every ruined things for me before...except those other five times when things exploded all over the place. "If you have one, maybe your roommate can double date with us."

"His name is Timothy," I forced a grin. Asking Timothy to double date with me so I wouldn't end up banging my date's roommate/sister was way out of bounds. I'd ask, proving I really was a sorry human being, but I was feeling bad about it. That had to count for something. We walked closely, side by side, back to her room. I played with Aya.

One bully hadn't gotten the message yesterday and called Aya a freak in my presence. I asked him why he thought he could get away with it. He said his dad was a hotshot lawyer. With a toothy glimmer, I told him that would look nice on his father's tombstone. After all, I didn't hurt kids. I hurt adults; grown-ups like Mom and Dad - the hotshot lawyer.

Aya polished that off by insisting that I wasn't a spy. Absolutely, positively not. What did I do for a living? Aya couldn't talk about it because good people might get killed - good girl. With that settled, I went to Loraine's homeroom. Holy Cow! She had the whole 'Plush Mature Teacher' thing going on, including the spectacles on a chain and hair in a bun.

Her name was Rachel Simpson, 42 and never married. In the classroom, she was aloof, condescending and chilly. Two minutes later her mouth was moaning 'no, no, no' while her body was responding with 'more, more, more'. Had she not pulled me into the custodial closet, I might have been worried about taking liberties.

I'd have to catch Europa's homeroom tomorrow. As it was.

"Sixty-five minutes...God, you are messed up," Desiree commented as we pulled away.

"What do you tell the security guard when you are just sitting here, waiting?" I asked.

"I tell the guard you are inside fucking your way through the female staff," Desiree stated.

"And they buy it?" I was aghast.

"She's seen you. She believes it. I hate you," Desiree answered.

"I apologize?" I looked sheepish.

"Here is her number on the off-chance you are ever bored," Desiree handed me a torn piece of paper. "You are a totally contemptible pig."

"I think you are a Saint for putting up with me," I smiled.

"By all means, please jump out of the car while we are in motion then run through traffic, preferably in front of buses and dump trucks," Desiree requested.

"Is this your way of suggesting I meet some nice nurses at the closest hospital," I reposed.

"Die." We were non-communicative for a few minutes.

"Desiree, I'm tired," I sighed. "Please stop the car."

"What..." she started to snap then she saw my face. I was ashen. Reality was catching up. Desiree changed lanes and pulled up to the curb. I got out.

"I'll walk into work," was all I said before shutting the door. Children and sex aside, I was confronting evil and I couldn't ignore that anymore. My working theory was that, after a century of genetic manipulation, the Amazons were dying out. Sterile women, deformed babies, pre-teen girls with fragile psyches and men bred for pliability and lack of aggression.

The science of genetics dated back to 1866. That would mean roughly seven human generations. In turn, that suggested they already had a fatally poisoned male breeding population and their imperfect application of science made it worse, not better. The dilemma became how to introduce a strong male gene strain into the Amazon breeding population.

What this meant for the now useless breeding males was yet another horror to contemplate. My future involved walking the nearly impossible line between the 'masculine' traits they were looking for without the aggression the Amazon's responded negatively to. I knew I was too aggressive and my survival was mainly through the efforts of Katrina.

I had made progress with a few women and they'd come to accept - no, tolerate - my irreverence.

~

Chapter Eleven

Thursday, Day 4 of 84

I was still wrestling with that whole mess when I walked into the atrium of Havenstone. I flashed my ID. They security personnel told me to wait, then took me to a side room and relieved me of my badge and phone.

Two security detail ladies replaced the two security guard types then Constanza showed up.

"Come with us," she ordered.

"No," I replied. "I work for Desiree right now." They didn't say something nice like 'do this or else'. No, they went straight for the stun guns.

My perception was overloaded with pain and I believed I was screaming, but wasn't sure. Before I knew it, I had been rolled over onto my stomach and my hands cuffed behind my back.

"What have I...?" I got out before they stunned me again.

"Shut up," Constanza snapped.

"Bitch!" I snarled. They stunned me again. I could no longer stand without assistance. The second I could form words, "Whores!" came tumbling out. They stunned me again. The points they gained for cruelty they lost to their lack of forward thinking. I really tried to not repeat my insults, but honestly, my mind was too numb by the end for me to be sure.

They slammed me into a chair in front of Elsa's desk. Opening my eyes hurt. My tongue was so bloody and swollen, talking was no longer an option. The echoes of my own screams of pain muffled what Elsa was saying. They jolted me and I spasmed right out of the chair. They picked me up and Elsa - or somebody - said something.

About the time I could make sense of the world again, Elsa clued in to what I had been doing.

"How many times did you stun him?" she barked.

"He kept insulting us," Constanza answered. "We made him shut his filthy mouth."

"Did it occur to you he was doing that on purpose?" Elsa seethed.

I giggled. Actually, I made some indescribable noise as I'd bitten my tongue and cheeks repeatedly and the amount of blood in my mouth was getting troublesome. Elsa pushed her chair back and came around her desk. I surprised them all by hurling my body into her. My knees buckled and I fell down before I even left the chair. Someone caught me before I hit the ground.

Elsa's face took over my view. She grabbed my jaw in her right hand and steadied my head.

"You did that on purpose," she stated. "It won't do you any good. No one knows you are here and you aren't leaving until I have what I want to know." I mumbled something. "What?"

"Never surrender," I worked out, blood drooling passed my lips.

"Fine. Cáel, do you believe I am an honest woman?" Elsa inquired. I had to think about that.

"Ugh - yeah," I mumbled.

"Good. I'm going to give you a chance because you did behave courageously yesterday," she congratulated me. "Tell me what I want to know, or things will become very painful for you."

"O-okay," I grunted.

"What did you and Katrina discuss over dinner last night?" Elsa asked. I had to think. My next words were crucial.

"I - ah - do you prefer silk sheets, or cotton?" I whispered.

"I understand," Elsa patted my cheek. She went back to her desk, pulled a dull silver box out then extracted a loaded syringe. "This is going to hurt a lot." I didn't struggle. What was the point?

"Man, the penalty for sexual harassment in this corporation is harsher than I thought," I gasped.

They expedited matters by having Constanza brandish her knife and cut my left coat and shirt sleeves off. Those were brand new too. She expertly tapped for the vein, the needle went in and this cool sensation worked its way up my arm. The promised pain didn't come, so I decided to play against the play. You steeled yourself against pain. It was the rational reaction.

I began humming, keeping my breathing level and relaxed. I chose Bruno Mars' Grenade as my first musical selection. Something about loving a woman destroying a man appealed to this situation. Had I possessed my facilities, I would have realized I had lost them. Elsa kept asking me questions.

I confessed she had sexy eyes - she really did, she had one of top ten asses I'd seen all week and I was dying to see her in her underwear. I had no clue why this drug wasn't working on me. It was a little weird when Elsa transformed into Katrina. She asked me how I was. I asked her if she'd let me breastfeed if we got married. That was my last memory for a while.

I rolled, saw a carpeted floor coming at me and threw out my arms and legs in time not to face-plant. Then I vomited. Here was the pain that Elsa had promised. My gastro-intestinal tract was on fire, the pressure in my head was about explode and if I had a nerve ending that wasn't in agony, it wasn't for a lack of trying.

I managed to roll over farther so I didn't fall into my own vomit. The desert Sun blazing down on me made me cry. My eyelids refused to close...no, they were closed. My eyes were simply that sensitive.

"See," Elsa said, "he's alive."

"Thank you for that crisp and unsolicited professional medical opinion," Katrina purred. "When I wish you to leave this room, I will let you know." I wished they would stop screaming. The urge to vomit overcame me. All I got for my troubles was a series of violent dry-heaves. "Don't, Tessa," Katrina spoke, "his trachea and esophagus are inflamed. He might choke on the water."

This time I was able to push up so that I was on my haunches. I didn't feel any better, but I was struggling to project more pride than I could from lying on the floor. There was no conception of time passing. All I knew was that I could make out six people in the room when I motioned for the water. Sure enough, it was Tessa Carmichael giving me a glass.

"Small sips," Katrina advised me. I did as suggested. My physical abilities were starting to revert to normal.

"Ah, Katrina," I mumbled, "did we have a...'if we were married' moment?" Before she could respond, "Wait, have I missed picking up the kids?" I blurted out.

"I'm still here, Dummy," Desiree sneered.

"Thank goodness," I rasped. "I'm seeing double and I was terrified there were three of you."

"He's fine," Desiree addressed the room, "and you tried to get Katrina to breast-feed you, too."

"Ugh...that's unfortunate," I looked down. "Do I still have a job? If so, can I go home and change. I seem to have torn my coat...and my shirt."

"No rest for you yet, Cáel," Katrina stated. "Now, Elsa, please hand me your firearm." My vision was finally doing me some good and that wasn't good. Katrina had an automatic pistol aimed at Elsa's head. Desiree had a pistol in her right hand and was standing by the door. Tessa was by Katrina's desk, her poise indicating displeasure.

Elsa deftly drew her pistol, turned it barrel first and handed it to Katrina. She immediately backed toward me, keeping her pistol leveled at Elsa.

"Cáel, are your hands and eyesight steady?" she inquired. I held out my hands. They were sore, yet level.

"Yes, Katrina," I answered. She handed me Elsa's pistol.

"Kill her - kill Elsa," Katrina directed. Elsa's eyes widened, but she held firm. Constanza was less controlled.

"You can't do this," Constanza gasped. "He's a male."

"Are you volunteering to take Elsa's place?" Katrina offered. Constanza's mouth gaped then shut.

"Cáel?" Katrina prodded me.

"Do we even need to go over why this is wrong?" I groaned. My head hurt. "She didn't try to kill me, Katrina. All she wanted to know was something that was none of her business."

"Okay, so she and her thugs stunned me to Hell and back and I really want to jack-slap her, but I'm not going to shoot her. She was just doing her job - a bit misguided perhaps. Had she wanted me dead, I'd be dead. If she was going against you, Katrina, she would have taken me off site," I reasoned.

"Besides, unlike those two, I don't attack defenseless people," I remarked. "I'm in Executive Services. I'll leave the sleazy stuff to your pathetic skanks in Security. They seem to get off on that kind of thing." I struggled to my feet, swayed a bit then staggered over to Elsa. "Here you go, Bitch. Knock yourself out. I've got work to do." I handed her the gun, grip first.

Elsa took it, stood up and pressed the barrel to my chest.

"I should kill you for your words alone," Elsa glared. I smiled.

"Go ahead. You may want to note that while I screened Katrina, I left Desiree a clear shot. Go ahead and commit suicide. I'm sure you, me and Constanza will fill a grave nicely," I smirked.

I looked over to Constanza. "You don't think Katrina can let you live if Desiree kills Elsa over a male-problem, do you?"

"They won't shoot," Elsa declared. "You don't understand Havenstone."

"You need to work on your people skills. I know three things of relevance," I grinned.

"You think less of Desiree for reasons that have nothing to do with her bravery, or competence. You want to kill me yet you'd die for Katrina - which is another reason I didn't shoot you. Finally, I've never lied to you. You are one of the most attractive women I've met here and your ass really is a wondrous work of art - my hand to God," I swore.

If Elsa had truly liked me, she'd have shot my balls off. As it was, it was the same old refrain - almost. Elsa, whipped the gun down, grabbed the back of my head and initiated a French kiss that would have brought Charlemagne back from the dead. On the plus side, I got to fondle her firm, muscularly perfect ass and bring forth several wanton moans from deep within her core.

"Cáel! To my side," Desiree snapped. I had to untangle myself from Elsa and man oh man, did she have strong hands. I quick-stepped it to Desiree's side. "You're hopeless," she muttered. "Katrina, I have to get him some fresh clothes."

"Back to the queue, you two," Katrina dismissed us. Elsa and Constanza watched me leave - my damn ass again.

~

Chapter Twelve

Later Thursday, Day 4 of 84

"You are worthless," Desiree grumbled as we got onto the elevator.

"Wait - she kissed me. Why is this my fault?" I complained.

"You suddenly forgot how to dodge?" Desiree countered.

"She had a gun on me," I reposed.

"Fine. You are hopeless and a gutless wonder," Desiree piled it on.

"You are not jealous, are you?" I teased.

"Don't make me shoot you," she glared. "I have a gun this time, too."

"Thank goodness," I sighed. "Otherwise I might have told you how I truly felt then kissed you and that would have cost me my job."

"Shut up, or do you want to ride the elevator the rest of the day?" Desiree threatened. I wisely kept my yap zipped. When we got to my apartment, Desiree followed me up for the first time. I was getting in the 'girlfriend has a gun' way, which was stupid because I was already trying to date a cop and then there was the whole Buffy factor.

Her appearance had an unforeseen utility; my new bed and suspension rig had arrived, all courtesy of Havenstone written off as business expenses. It seems Helena and Buffy might not need to get me a new bed after all. That was still 80 days away and I knew how much damage I could do to a bedroom set in only one semester. True, a girl set that mattress on fire, but at least she waited for me to jump off first.

Without comment, Desiree helped me move my old bed out to the hallway, set up and put the sheets on the new bed and finally moved the boxes with the bondage aids onto my bed. I dressed while she watched - old hat - and we finished the hour by taking my old mattress to the curb. Yes, I lived in one of those neighborhoods.

We made the academy with enough awkward time to spare. It was also enough time for that nice school security officer to come by and chat with me. She was Brazilian, divorced with a three year old son. She tried being sultry. I talked about age appropriate boy toys, parks with good playgrounds and asked where the most authentic Brazilian eateries were located.

Seriously, a web search for children's toys takes five minutes. All women want to be seen as desirable in some manner. Mothers want to know you don't find their children to be a turn off. Immigrants want to know you are curious about their cultures. They may love America, but they are also a bit homesick.

Indulging a woman's interests is never wrong \- unless you are a sexual deviant like me; then it is plain moronic and self-destructive. She had to hurry off to perform her duties. I leaned against the car while Desiree stared at me.

"Yes?" I sighed.

"She's a former state criminal investigator back home," Desiree informed me. "She caught her now ex-husband cheating on her and nearly killed both of them. She was acquitted because he shot her first."

"She kicked both their asses AFTER she was shot?" I gulped.

"In the left shoulder," Desiree regarded me impassively.

"And you couldn't have brought this up BEFORE I talked with her?" I groaned.

"Oh, you think that was mean; wait until I tell Buffy that you kissed and felt up Elsa," she continued. "I don't have to kill you. You'll get any number of women to do it for me."

"Hey, Elsa wasn't my fault," I griped.

"Who do you think Buffy will believe, me - whom she's known for years, or you - who apparently jumps on anyone who isn't her?" Desiree pointed out.

"I can't believe you are passing up the chance to push me off the Empire State Building," I sighed. "Missing an opportunity to make my life unpleasant is so unlike you."

"That's not so," Desiree sounded oddly sympathetic. "I get my enjoyment from watching you destroy yourself without me lifting a finger."

"I knew it," I crowed triumphantly. Desiree appeared annoyed. "You like to watch me."

"I really should shoot you," Desiree lowered her head.

"I'll put on a set of deer antlers if that'll put you in the mood," I offered. She put her hand on the grip of her holstered pistol and glared.

"Daddy," Aya cried out. Ah, and Ulyssa was with her. If Rachel stepped out, I was a goner. Sometimes I get what I deserve; most of the time, though, I get away with murder.

Aya mugged me and wouldn't let go until I picked her up and put her on my hip. Her endearing joy helped me deal with her constricting my airways.

"I see you are making Aya a very happy girl," Ulyssa purred.

"Devotion to education is a passionate endeavor," I nodded.

With the 'devotion' she showed her forefinger with her lips, I was left praying for a solar eclipse and some bushes to jump behind for a little personal tutoring. Europa's nudge reminded me I had a job I was supposed to be doing. I got the girls settled and winked to Ulyssa before taking my seat as well.

We made it four blocks.

"You are having sex with Ms. Reichmann, aren't you?" Aya peeped. Oh, shit.

"Wait, I heard you had sex with Ms. Simpson this morning?" Loraine gasped. Oh, shit.

"I saw him chatting up that dark-skinned security guard," Europa teased. Oh, shit - why do I bother?

"Does that mean you can have sex with Mommy now?" Aya exclaimed happily. I openly wept. I was expecting for the older two to pile it on - instead.

"Is that a burn mark on the back of your neck?" Loraine touched the area. "Are you having kinky sex?" I wept some more.

"No," Desiree rescued me. "He had a run-in with Elsa this morning after we dropped you off."

"Elsa? What did she want to talk to you about?" Europa asked. Loraine was still rubbing my neck.

"Not so much talk as torture and drug me in an effort to - OW!" I gasped as Desiree punched me in the ribs.

"That was totally unnecessary," I grumbled. "The kids need to be warned...Elsa wants to know how the Wicked Witch stuffed Hansel and Gretel into that oven. I suspect some sinister plot behind her villainous intentions."

"Can we ever believe what you say?" Europa snickered.

"Trust me," I grinned. "Truthfulness when dating women is counter-productive."

"Don't listen to him girls," Desiree told them. "He's a pig."

"I have more experience successfully dating women than you have," I provoked Desiree.

"I will shoot you," Desiree threatened.

"Desiree," Loraine gasped, "did you just crack a joke?"

"I wasn't joking," Desiree insisted.

"Cáel, have you ever been shot before?" Europa asked.

"Do you mean 'shot at', or 'shot at and hit'?" I requested.

"You've been shot - hit with a bullet...or arrow?" Aya gulped.

"I have been shot at with a shotgun, but she missed. It was only rock salt anyway," I informed them. "I've been stabbed an unhealthy amount. Slapping is a regular occurrence, as are nut-shots and, as obviously exhibited here, being punched."

"Don't die," Aya pleaded. "Marry Mommy and she'll keep you safe." Damn, that child was persistent. I reached back and tweaked her nose.

"Your Mom and I are going to wait a while before we make any commitments, Aya, and you are going to let your Mom tuck you in tonight," I told her.

"But I don't want to," Aya frowned. Maybe I had lost my mind and not realized it. Maybe some of that residual electric current Constanza had gifted me with had one last jolt in it.

"How about this; I'll set up a sleeping area at my place and the three of you can come by occasionally and have a sleep over. I'm sure my gay roommate will love it," I uttered.

"I'd like that," Loraine perked up. "Could I sleep in your bed?"

"Sure, as long as I'm sleeping somewhere else," I groaned.

"You are not even making it a challenge," Desiree muttered. My vanishing life expectancy?

"I'd like to sleep with you," Aya smiled.

"I think we'd all like to sleep with you, Cáel," Europa mocked me.

"He's received a brand new bed today. How appropriate," Desiree added to the mockery.

"I can't wait to tell Mommy," Aya giggled. "She'll be so happy." How did she come up with that delusion? "When can we come over? Tomorrow? Saturday?"

"Oh, I wish I could but...Desiree has me doing errands all weekend long," I lied.

"That's okay," Desiree mused. "You are free Saturday night. You get to go in with Aya and ask her Mom's permission. Good luck, Stud." I felt that, with my imminent death approaching, I was somehow letting Katrina down.

To add to the bizarre, I knew that Katrina was a big wheel in a cult of diabolical murderers - and I still felt bad for her and her misplaced faith in me. We pulled up in front of the children's home and Desiree let me escort them in - alone. Mom was right there waiting for us. Oh joy.

"Hello Caitlyn Ruger, I am Cáel Nyilas. I humbly request your permission to invite your three daughters to my dwelling Saturday evening for a sleep over," I politely spoke.

"Very well," Mom didn't even blink. Perhaps I was still in Elsa's office, my mind broken from an overload of chemical and physical abuse. "Is there anything else?" I shook my head. Aya was squealing and the other two were stunned. "Pick them up at six and have them home by two p.m. Sunday."

"Yes, Ma'am - Ms. Caitlyn," I gulped.

"It is Caitlyn, Cáel," she gave me a slight upturn of the lips. Fuck! She looked horny!! I liked Aya. That didn't mean I wanted to be her Daddy for real. Marrying Caitlyn was right up there with 'death by multiple girlfriends' in my book.

"Caitlyn, young ladies - I will see you tomorrow morning," I nodded, turned and left.

"She said 'yes', didn't she?" Desiree gleefully declared when I got back in the car. She actually seemed amused.

"You knew she would," my eyes bugged out.

"That's right, oh Swami of the Female Psyche," she drove away.

"I hate you," I groaned.

"Welcome to my world," she actually appeared happy. My day wasn't over either. We ran a few more jobs in the cue before quitting time. The second I had exited Katrina's office with my bike clothes, Buffy was on me.

She looked like she'd just learned her jaguar incisor was actually from an ocelot.

"You kissed Elsa," she hissed. Usually I have sex with a girl then one of her closest friends before they are this angry with me.

"No, I did not," I insisted. "She jumped me."

"You grabbed her ass," Buffy bore down on me. Sure, I was bigger, stronger and could kick her ass in weaponless combat. What mattered was that she had the look of a woman who wouldn't be satisfied until my gonads were in a leather pouch around her neck. Normally I earn this look. I resent it being taken as a freebie.

"That I confess to," I sighed.

"Why?" she snapped. The new hires were hanging around at a safe distance.

"I hate giving a lame erotic encounter," I explained. "If a girl kisses me, I feel it is only appropriate that I make her feel good, too."

"I hate you," she growled.

"You, Desiree and Elsa," I shrugged. "I'm getting used to it around here."

"What are you doing this weekend?" Buffy was growing impatient.

"I already have four dates lined up," I said. The three kids plus Nikita.

"I hate you," Buffy snapped. We were on the elevator now. The new hires rushed in before the door closed. I hoped that would buy me some room. I'm an idiot.

"I think we've already discussed that," I tried to joke. Buffy shoved me into a corner then backed into me, warding off the other women.

Buffy was in real tight pants, had a wonderful body and I hadn't been laid since this morning. I'm not made of stone. I'm not even made of good quality drywall. My hand didn't ask my brain if it was a good idea, or not. Of its own accord, it began rubbing her ass. When groping somebody, if they are going to react in the negative, it will happen in the first second.

They will move away, yell at you, slap you, or all of the above. Opening your legs and pressing against the groper is the opposite of saying 'no'. Our position masked what I was doing from most of the new hires. Tigger was actually leaning against the wall close by and noticed my arm motion. She shot me a curious look. I shrugged to show my confusion.

"I am going to have to tattoo my name on your forehead," Buffy growled - to both me and Tigger. When the doors opened, I began to slip past the resisting Buffy. "80 days, Bastard," she sizzled.

"Someone needs to remind Buffy of her place," Fabiola remarked a bit too loud.

"My place is riding Cáel until dawn's early light," Buffy snarled. "You don't need to worry. A reminder won't be necessary."

"That's not what I..." Fabiola turned on Buffy. Buffy didn't need the headache of explaining why she shoved Fabiola through one of the glass panels at the front of the building.

"Buffy," I turned on the brunette. I pushed her hair off her shoulders before cupping her ears. My thumbs ran over the front rims while my pinkie tickled the earlobes on both sides. "I'd really like it if you were the first Havenstone lady I am with. I'm looking forward to it, in fact."

Buffy pressed her body against mine, inhaled my scent deeply and moaned.

"Buffy, perhaps you should seek out another male in the intervening 80 days," Violet suggested.

"I did. He tried to run away. When I caught him, he curled up in a ball and cried. After that, I wasn't in the mood anymore," Buffy related.

"That's because you don't know how to make a man behave," Fabiola sneered.

I got guilty, worried looks all around.

"Crap Fabiola, were you born stupid, or have you grown senile in your two short decades?" Dora sighed.

"It isn't like any of them are going to make it the full 84," Fabiola responded snootily then stormed off. Another awkward moment.

"Idiocy is neither age nor gender specific. Look at Buffy, she's a fifty year old man dressed up like a woman and she can babble just as incoherently as Fabiola," I joked as I readied my bike.

"That is something else you are going to have to pay for," Buffy growled.

"Usually I get a whole lot more pleasure before this level of suffering begins," I muttered as I pedaled away.

I deviated from my normal path so I could pick up a few specialty items. Nikita called, confirming our date for Friday night. I said I'd be ready. She made the off-handed comment that I didn't need to worry how I dressed. She wasn't ashamed to be seen with me if I was wearing my bike clothes. Ah-huh.

I suggested that it might be easier if I wore a G-string and painted the rest of my clothes on. Laughing, she told me that was Date 3 material. We said our good-byes. The rest of the trip home was uneventful. At my door I found an emotional Rhada. Not the 'rip out your eyes and feed them to you' I'd come to know, love and fear, but a truly distraught woman.

I ushered her inside. While dealing with some domestic stuff, Rhada went to my bedroom. I followed as soon as possible. She wasn't 'playful' so I didn't play.

"What's wrong?" I asked as I sat beside her and put my arm around her shoulder. She stiffened initially then wrapped me in her own arms and hugged me tight.

"I'm going back home tonight and I won't be back for a month," she sobbed.

"Great," I shouted. Rhada looked at me, mortally wounded and angry. "Think of all the great things I can come up with after a whole month to prepare. Oh...you are going to suffer so much when you come back. I'm going to eat it up while you scream."

Blink...blink. "What makes you think I'll come back here?" she tried to be challenging. She came off more needy/pleading.

"Good idea," I nodded. "It will be much more fun if I have to hunt you down. We can do that Night One," I decided. "Rape you right out in the open for anyone to see."

Rhada's breathing picked up and she squeezed me tighter.

"See those boxes?" Rhada took a peek. "Those are the suspension gear so I can hang you from the ceiling. They came in today. I'm going to suspend you about waist height over the bed, apply clamps with weights to your labia and nipples then fuck you up both holes, alternating with a dildo for the hole I'm not using."

"I imagine the pull of those weights swinging around as I screw you is going to be excruciating," I mused. "What do you think?"

"I think you want to hurt me, break me and finally make me surrender to you. I pledge right now, this is not going to be Cáel Nyilas," Rhada mumbled into my chest.

The wrestling ensued, the clothes came off - Rhada had never undressed me before - and she ended up naked and bound spread-eagle on the bed. Along with her ball-gag, I introduced her to my new blindfold and super-efficient sound suppressing ear-protection. I departed to get my 'special tools' for the night. When I came back, Rhada's distress from a lack of stimulation was evident.

I laid out two bottle; on of thick vitamin-rich cream and the other, smooth peanut butter. Then I picked up my first of three secret weapons - kittens. I poured a small dose of cream onto her belly button. Rhada shivered. Then the kitten was placed on her stomach and hip, pointed at the cream. The little bugger was thirsty and took to the cream with gusto.

The little mischief-maker was even kind enough to start flexing his tiny claws. Barring audio and visual input, Rhada's imagination took over. She had no clue what was causing the pleasure/pain. Cream spilled over her chest and the other two kittens joined the buffet. I changed up the cream with the peanut butter.

Rhada was pierced repeatedly with multiple needle-like claws and ravaged by their small, rough tongues. I attacked her pussy and asshole while the kittens licked her fingers and toes with their fierce yet minute peanut butter-seeking tongues. This wasn't the intense torture Rhada was used to. Instead, it was excruciatingly small pains with rasping tongues exciting her skin.

My epipen wasn't needed (I didn't know if she was allergic to cats), I kept the curious kitties away from her vaginal area though my oral attentions and the sounds of the vibrator drew them in repeatedly, and putting a pussy on each underarm and one licking her lips while I was chewing her clit was something Rhada really enjoyed.

The kittens gave out on me so I put them back in their carrying box. Sadly, I had to return them to the pet store tomorrow - this apartment building had a No Pet policy. When I released Rhada, she had this perplexed look on her face. I hadn't whipped her flesh raw or sent her mind down the paths of soul-screaming agony. No...

"I have a dozen cats at home," Rhada murmured. "I'll never be able to look at them the same way again." I gave a toothy smile. "You are perverse, evil and unscrupulous," she glared, then her amusement broke through. She cuddled up against me. "It was very different - unexpected. I've never read about that kind of torture before."

"Watching you trying to figure out what was going on is a memory I'll treasure, my tasty captive," I taunted her.

"I'm not tied up anymore," Rhada growled. We wrestled, I eventually pinned her hands over her head, used my knees to pry her legs apart and penetrated her.

Rhada's body arched against me, anchored on her hips and head, as my cock penetrated her to the maximum. This was still what she wanted most - to be fucked. After she crashed down, I tried to kiss her. She tried to bite my face. My response was to force her wrists into one of my hands. She was strong enough to make that hold very difficult.

Rhada made my fingers work for it without breaking free. With my free hand, I leveraged first one leg then the other to my shoulders. I started pounding her while pushing her legs farther and farther until she was bent in two. My lower body was now balanced on my toes so my hips could rise up higher and slam down with greater force.

Our faces were centimeters apart. I had come to know that look in her eyes. I released one hand at a time. Rhada linked her fingers in the hair on the back of my head and drove my lips down as hers came up. Her kiss was that of a famished animal gnawing the last bone of our time together. I tried to pull away.

"No," she moaned.

"I don't have a condom on," I explained.

"I don't care," she stared at me intently. I didn't stop thrusting, but she could see my emotional distress.

"I can't get you in trouble, Rhada," I groaned. "I know you don't want me," I lied - she seriously wanted me in her own twisted way. "I can't risk giving you my offspring until something changes. I will not steal you from Havenstone, but I can't abandon Katrina either. We are stuck for now."

Rhada began wiggling free until she pushed me on my side. She swiveled around until she could take my cock into her mouth and began fellate me. She kept eye contact with me, partially to see if she was giving me pleasure and partially to establish some sort of psychic bond that lovers theoretically share.

She was giving to me, so I returned the favor \- with my fingers. Rhada clearly wanted to keep eye contact. I did dip two fingers into her pussy then lick them dry, repeatedly. Since our earlier escapades had loosened up her ass, I had to work three digits in to the second knuckle to drive her nuts. She was crying, orgasming and working my dick over all at the same time.

She gagged, choked, used too much teeth and I shot-gunned semen deep down her throat. More gagging followed then she spewed my seed over my crotch and thigh. Rhada was devastated. I knew what I had to do. I reached my cum-drenched hand around, grabbed her braid and shoved her face into my thigh.

"Clean me up, Bitch," I demanded. I got a few urgent licks then a mildly painful bite. "Slut, I didn't say kiss it - I said lick it. How stupid are you?" Rhada shot me a sizzling flash before getting back to work. I got another bite so I spanked her hard. The next look was searing and orgasmic.

When she finished up, she rolled onto her side, back to me. Rhada's head was down by my thigh, her head resting on her hands. My cheek settled on her hip as I gazed upon her quiet form.

"I'm going to miss this so much," she sounded completely depressed. So many possible retorts - only one right one.

"If you need to contact me before you can come back, use Katrina. She knows you and I meet, not what we are doing," I told Rhada. "She asked and I told her not to. That was the end of that." She rose onto her butt and leaned her back into me.

"I do not understand you," she sighed. "That is part of your appeal." Pause. "I must go."

"Do you want to shower first? You still have some cream and peanut butter on you beside the normal semen and sweat," I suggested. She gave me a curious look then left the bedroom. I joined her in the shower, shared our body warmth until the hot water kicked in then bathed one another.

"You have corrupted another aspect of my life," Rhada sighed as we dressed. "Showering is going to be an empty experience without you now."

"Breaking down your resistance is my long-term goal," I responded matter-of-factly. Rhada shot me a nasty look. "Just joking. One good look at your naked flesh and all higher brain functions go right out the window."

She finished and stood. So did I. By unspoken agreement, I walked her to her sports car.

"You could be dead, or gone when I get back," Rhada spun on me suddenly, burying her face in my chest. I could feel her tears. This was getting worse and worse - for both of us.

"Look on the positive side," I soothed her. "You've made sure I can never forget you."

"You are useless," she sniffled. Her kiss was full of her heat and passion. With a roar of more horsepower than could possibly be useful, Rhada pulled away in her performance machine. I turned and returned to my flat. Two minutes later there was a knock at my door. I may have gone to a college in rural New Hampshire, but I grew up in a not-so-nice neighborhood in Chicago.

I checked the spyhole. It was Nikita. Oh, joy. The door swung opened and I motioned for her to come in. I knew that look from my long experience in disappointing women. I shut the door as Nikita took in my residence.

"Her name is Rhada, she is returning to her homeland tonight for a month," I began.

"She is associated with Havenstone. She is not my boss, in my chain of command, nor are they pimping me out. Rhada showed up Tuesday night and I know we have no future together though she can't accept that," I related.

"She's good-looking," Nikita commented after a few moments.

"True and so are you. She stalked me down using corporate resources while you used your police powers. Rhada kicked in my door while you saw fit to stake out my home. I met you at a deli, had a wonderful conversation and enjoyed myself immensely," I replied. "I did...other things with her."

"Like?" she rounded on me, still peeved.

"Like none of your business. How would you feel if I talked about our 'almost' relationship with someone else?" I countered.

"Have there been many women for you to brag about?" she interrogated me.

"I didn't go out with you so we could reminisce over my litany of romantic failings, or yours. After all, you were parked outside my place tonight. The experience that led you to do that has to be either embarrassing, or painful. I had an attractive lady show up at my place for sex tonight because that has pretty much been my life for the past four years," I continued.

"I went out with you because I didn't want you-me-us to be like every other encounter with the opposite sex," I explained.

"Why should I trust you?" she groaned. "We aren't even dating and you're cheating on me."

"If life has taught me anything it is that the only men women should trust end up boring them to tears," I stated.

"That's mortifyingly cynical," Nikita grimaced.

"Nikita, I've slept with women who were married, divorced, engaged, dating someone else, related to someone I was dating and once, a woman about to take Holy Vows," I informed her.

"You raped a nun?" she gasped.

"Well, she wasn't a nun yet. She was on the train, heading home one last time, we talked, hit it off and had sex in the bathroom...a few times," I sighed.

"Oh, God," she stared at me. "You are a horrible person." This would be the point when, if she really thought I was some sort of sexual monster, she'd be walking out the door. She wasn't. They never did.

"I'm trying to change," I pleaded. Sadly, though I'd used that line countless times before, I truly meant it this time. I'd been on a date and not had sex and that only happened because I exhibited extraordinary will - from my perspective.

"Okay," she whispered then stepped into my personal space and hugged me. "I'll help."

Nikita was joining a large and storied sisterhood of women who had tried to save me - from myself. By the gentle rhythm her body was rubbing against me, I could tell I had to get her out before I put something in.

"Nikita," I put my hands on her shoulders and pushed her away, "I know this is early in our relationship, but I need a favor?" I started. She was suspicious again. It was her nature.

"I'm have a sleep over Saturday night and..." I continued.

"A sleep over? Only kids have sleep overs," she interrupted.

"Exactly," I nodded. "I have three sisters - nine, thirteen and sixteen coming over for the night and staying through early Sunday afternoon."

"The sixteen year old is hitting on you and you are looking for a visible deterrent," Nikita mused.

"Pretty much," I grinned. Aya and her Daddy issues could wait.

"Where would we sleep?" she grinned back.

"On the floor, in my bedroom, on an air mattress," I told her.

"Do you sleep in the nude?" she poked my chest.

"For the love of God, woman, they are children," I exclaimed. Yes, I did sleep in the nude. I still had pajamas for things like walking around the place. Nikita patted my cheek.

"Good boy," she smiled.

Unless the woman doing that is your grandmother, that's an invitation to have sex. I know, a whole bunch of things are seen by me as an invitation by women for me to engage them in intercourse. I am not delusional; this is just how my life works. Keys jingled and Timothy walked through the door.

"Mr. Denver," Nikita got off before I could make introductions.

"Oh, you must be the cop," Timothy snorted.

"Does Cáel have so many we are labelled by profession?" her suspicious nature flared up.

"Nah. Unlike Gomer here," was he calling me a hick?

"I'm New York born and bred. I know a police issued Beretta in a hip holster even under a jacket. Also, the next time Cáel calls me Mr. Denver will be the first," Timothy chuckled. "If it's any consolation, I can see why he's risking grave bodily injury by going out with you."

"Does he think I'll shoot him if I catch him screwing around behind my back?" she asked pleasantly.

"Pretty much," Timothy winked at me.

"Good boy," she patted my cheek.

"Ah, the prospect of imminent pain reminds me \- Timothy, I need two more favors," I begged.

"This is going to be good," Timothy replied sarcastically.

"I've got four girls lined up for Saturday night; three high society children and Nikita here. Is this okay, or do I need to take this somewhere else?" I began.

"This the nine year old?" he questioned.

"Aya and her two sisters," I replied.

"Sure. Every Park Avenue babe should get to meet a gay tattoo artist from Queens once in their life before Prom," Timothy nodded sagely. "The other thing."

"Yeah - could you double-date with me. There is this school teacher who rooms with her older sister. The sister came through a nasty breakup recently and the teacher asked me if I could help out," I tried to sound upbeat.

"Wow...I don't know what to say," Timothy's mouth gaped. "I don't know what's dumber; asking your gay roommate to distract his fuck-mates sister so he doesn't end up screwing them both, or requesting this in front of the cop you are almost dating?"

"Wah - huh - what he said - that last part," Nikita glared at me.

"Hey, now," I warded her off. "There's barely a week of school left. Then she'll get a summer job and I won't be taking the kids to school anymore and that will be that."

"You are sleeping with a teacher at the school your girls attend?" she gasped. "Why?"

"She's hot," I declared. Nikita looked shocked. "I mean really hot. Not as gorgeous as you, but she's very attractive."

Don't think I'd lost my damn mind. I had, in fact, learned something over four years of being far hornier than smart. See, when a girl thinks you are true blue and you cheat, you are a scumbag. If a girl thinks you've slept around and now you are hers and hers alone, you cheating still makes you dirt, but that is ameliorated by the deep-seated fear that she did something wrong.

If you are openly a man-whore when you start dating, you can cheat. She thinks she's weaning you off your promiscuous ways. This toleration is not limitless, so be warned. Make every indiscretion count. Eventually she will give up and dump you. Refer to the break-up sex discussion earlier.

My mentor once asked me if one woman would ever be enough. I told her that I always thought one woman would be enough and I was always wrong. One of these days I hoped to meet a woman who could satisfy my sexual urges and could keep my balls in a vice to stop me from straying. Then I'd be happy.

"You need to stop that," Nikita threatened me. "My fiancé cheated on me. I'm not going to put up with it from you."

"I already promised them I'd go out at least once," I reasoned. "You wouldn't want me to treat you like that."

"I'm not them," she bit her lower lip. "This roving eye of yours has got to stop and soon." See - a license to cheat. I really liked Nikita and I wanted to make an effort to keep her happy. Somehow I could keep my libido under some kind of restraint...for 80 days. Then my co-workers at Havenstone would own me like their prison bitch, providing I was still alive.

"I'll do my best," I promised. We hugged and kissed. She wasn't gone thirty seconds when my phone rang. It was Odette. I told her to come on over so Timothy shot me with his Nerf gun.

"Cáel, consider having sex with me," Timothy teased.

"What? I'm not gay," I pouted.

"Oh, I know but you'll be dead soon so the sexual ambiguity won't be something you have to deal with for long," Timothy laughed.

"I'll put it on my bucket list," I sighed. "Double-dating with me?"

"Sure. It isn't like life with you has been dull," Timothy taunted me. I groaned.

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About James Martin Dosher

James Martin Dosher is a resident of North Carolina with his lovely wife Megan and family

He attended North Carolina State Univ. and Wake Technical Community College in Raleigh, where he mastered typing, one of an author's key skill sets.

While growing up as a child of a military family he lived in various diverse Regions of North America; from Rhode Island, to Montreal, PQ, to New York City and Wilmington NC; were memorable.

James put in time in the corporate world at UPS and Nortel, followed by a stint as an USPS rural mail carrier. James found the rural mail route enjoyable while he knew he wasn't the best. He moved on to be an author with a loyal following and now is working on several yarns with four volumes ready to hit the market in 2015.

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Other books by James Martin Dosher

Please visit your favorite ebook retailer to discover other books by James Martin Dosher:

Life as a New Hire Series

Life as a New Hire Volume I, Deadly Secrets, Published 2015

Life as a New Hire Volume II Blood is Spilt, Published 2015

Life as a New Hire Havenstone Employee Handbook & Guide March 2015

Life as a New Hire Volume III, Amusement, Annoyance, Pride and Sex, March 2015

Life as a New Hire Volume IV, Sex, Life and Death, March 2015

Life as a New Hire Volume V thru VIII, To Be Announced

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Connect with James M. Dosher

I really appreciate you reading my book! I love feedback.

Here is my email address: JMD@ahcs.biz

Check out my Smashwords' author page too; https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/FinalStand

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