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Cáel and the Manhattan Amazons: Part 13

Snowden Speaks — Tue, 12 Nov 2024 20:00:00 +0000

Women making bad decisions. Cáel to the rescue? What?

In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.

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“There is nothing wrong being a Lucky Bastard. It is wrong to rely on it.”

They were all psychopaths and murderers after all, so death was becoming a vocational hazard. Me refraining from having as many sexual liaisons as possible wasn't realistic. I wasn't going to be willingly castrated and that was the only way out. The one benefit I could see was me working in a target-rich environment.

"Now that I have had my turn stymieing Cáel's chaotic yet well-meaning attempts to educate us in the dangers and rewards of free-ranging masculinity," Tessa regarded the assembly, "I am getting out with my victory intact. Good luck, Sisters. You'll need it." Tessa exited, order was restored and; oh yeah, Elsa had brought me here for a sadistic love-fest, sans the sex.

"I don't know what to make of you," Elsa smiled warmly, "I don't understand you and I find you to be very interesting." Let me make this clear; all three of those statements can be very bad, or very good. 'I don't know what to make of you' means I want to make it with you. 'I don't understand you' is 30% bad and 70% good.

When bad, it is a prelude to a break-up. What she means is 'you aren't trying to understand me', thus the end of the relationship. On the beneficial side it means 'I've totally bought into your seduction and I'm ready to screw'. Ah, 'interesting'. Two types of women find a man 'interesting'; women who have to have you, and stalkers.

Somewhat redundant. The main difference is how they respond to the Restraining Order and how much fun the erotic side of the relationship will be. The first kind of woman has a public screaming fit if you take out a RO on her. Let them build up to an incinerating level, then fuck them; it's so worth it.

Stalkers ignore ROs. That's okay. Now you can legally trap them. They'll do whatever you want. Not because they are afraid of you. It is an RO for God's sake; one night in jail, maybe. No, they'll do whatever sex act you request because that's why they are stalking you in the first place; the sensual/emotional connection.

When she starts making bizarre requests of you, subtly direct her to another 'more interesting' guy. Try not to use a friend. That's kind of cold. For the next few weeks, make sure the latest victim doesn't end up as a Missing Person. After that, you've done your civic duty so you can move on guilt-free.

"Elsa, I need ten minutes to stretch first," I requested. She nodded. Off came the shirt. I retreated to a gymnastics mat and began stretching out my kinks. Five minutes in, I did one of my favorite maneuvers; the backwards human bridge completed when your wrists touch the Achilles tendons.

Not only does this extended your abdominal muscles, it exhibits your hard-on and suggest all kinds of pages from the Kama Sutra are, in fact, possible. My performance highlighted my musculature, flexibility and numerous scars. My left thigh still had a light bandage wrapped around it. Whatever the Amazon medics were using was working gangbusters on me.

Elsa had retreated to her end of the mat so I glided to my axes then promptly got off the mat. I didn't trust any Amazon, not even Aya and I'd let my heart be cut out if it would save her life. I got the feel for these axes, spun them around a few times then made to get back on the mat.

"Put the loops around your wrist," Elsa directed.

"Why?" I retorted. We were back to 'why are we letting a male question our orders.'

"You are not allowed to throw them," Elsa allowed. I nodded. I didn't loop them. No, I walked onto the mat, weapons held axe-head down. I walked in five steps, knelt and placed the axes on the mat by my side.

"Cáel, defend yourself," Elsa stated firmly.

"Which is it? Do I defend myself and I act in a manner allowed by axe-work, or do I accede to your demands and be automatically defeated?" I responded.

"Do you believe my spear technique is that superior to your own, made-up style?" Elsa smirked.

"I think you are cheating. Worse, I think you are being a bully. If you want this to be the 'Elsa is a Bad-Ass' show, congratulations, you've won. I'm not going to fight you. I kneel before you, weapons on the mat, acknowledging that your cheating ways have defeated me," I mocked. "Savor this magnificent victory."

"Your opinion of my martial prowess is not what is at question here today," Elsa spoke. I stood up, turned away and walked off the map, interrupting the rest of her speech. She was coming for me this time. I opened my towel, took out my phone and began texting away. "What are you doing?" Ngozi rumbled.

*Buffy; job complete. Need to shower before next mission in queue* I hadn't hit 'send' yet.

"Please correct me if I'm wrong. This was supposed to be a weapon's exhibition. That impli

Cáel and the Manhattan Amazons: Part 12

Snowden Speaks — Tue, 12 Nov 2024 04:49:35 +0000

Becoming something of value has its downside.

In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.

Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected..

“Live fast, die young and leave a; No. Enjoy life and die when it is your time. Your corpse will the least of your concerns if there really is an Afterlife.”

(Monday)

For some God-unknown reason I was showing up to work at 6 a.m. Monday. I swear, one of these days I'm going to show up to work naked. If asked why, I'll claim that it wasn't in my brilliantly scripted orders. I would then beg forgiveness for 'assuming' I was allowed to breath, or even be conscious. We'd all laugh. Nothing would change.

They were never going to give me advance warning of what my latest errand entailed. I don't think it was in them.

"You've made to Week Three," Buffy sneered as we entered the garage beneath Havenstone's skyscraper. "I'm flabbergasted."

"So am I; flabbergasted that is," I nodded sagely. "I had no idea you knew what flabbergasted meant."

Punch. Definitely back to the old Buffy.

"You need a haircut," she commented. My phone beeped. I had data packet. I had received them before; just not from this place. I opened it up as we exited the car and made for elevators.

"Holy Bat-shit Bat-Bunny!" I gasped. "Hayden's written me a letter."

"Really?" Buffy was momentarily non-psychotic. I showed her my screen. Hayden had made an official declaration; something that would be in the records of the Amazons from now until forever.

Any and all males of Havenstone; specifically one Cáel Nyilas; were to forthwith and immediately stop spiritually assassinating any and all Amazons and Amazon recruits. Furthermore, I was admonished for murdering Fabiola Dobrani and, under penalty of an unmentioned punishment, I was to publicly rejoice at her resurrection.

Life was relentless. Buffy's phone rang. She got the same message I did; as did every freaking Amazon in the building. I didn't think the guys would be getting this memo.

"I wonder how the Chicklettes are going to take this," I mused. The doors opened before Buffy could formulate her comeback.

Relentless may have not been a strong enough word. Waiting for us in two distinct groups were Constanza with two SD Playboy Bunnies; opposite them was Oneida. Oneida looked; enamored. This wasn't curiosity about what my meat would feel like as it made her weep tears of rapture.

This was a weekend binge of watching some of the best received, twenty-something, romantic movies of the past ten years. It was hard for me to decide which group was more divorced from reality; the Amazon man-haters, or the 'Hollywood was real' babe.

"I'm going to get a bite to eat," Buffy announced. Entering the garage had completed her bodyguard duties.

Oneida had the higher prestige so she came first.

"Hi Cáel Nyilas," she stepped up and greeted me. She extended her hand; for me to shake. Amazons clasped forearm to forearm. I greeted her Amazon-style.

"It is good to see you again, Oneida of House Arinniti," I replied. She looked upset.

"You know who I am," she sighed with disappointment.

"Please believe me," I stroked the side of her left cheek to the top of her ear, "had I known Friday, I would have finished up by impaled myself on your spear and cleared up a whole manner of things. Why does it matter to you that I know who you are?"

"I; I didn't want to be treated as anyone special," she gazed up at me with innocent eyes.

"That's not going to be a problem," I chuckled. "To me, you are nothing but another psycho-bitch that's trying to kill me. You are a black-hearted, soulless creation of Hell and I hate your guts, Oneida."

Patching things up with Yasmin and Nikita plus complications.

In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.

Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected..

“Strength is equal parts Body and the Mind, but true strength comes from a relentless Spirit.”

(Late Saturday Morning)

"Why is she here?" Yasmin asked me, giving a nod toward Buffy. Buffy was a good ten meters away, technically fulfilling her duty as my bodyguard. Yasmin had agreed to meet me at a park.

"Her name is Buffy Dubois and she's my bodyguard for the weekend," I explained. "At least I'm back at my apartment."

"What happens with her if you don't go back to work Monday?" Yasmin inquired. "Does your 'bodyguard' kill you?"

"Nah, not Buffy," I gave a lop-sided grin. "My co-workers believe in overkill. I bet they'll send at least three to make it nice, swift and quiet."

"Why do you joke about this?" Yasmin studied me.

"As opposed to what?" I chuckled. "Lashing out is futile. Running isn't much better. I chose to fight when I must, love when I can and laugh when I should be crying."

"Do you think they will come after me?" she murmured.

What Yasmin really wanted to know was if her 3-year old son was in danger. From everything I'd learned and seen about Yasmin, she was tough as nails. I had given this some serious thought. I couldn't read Katrina's, or Hayden's minds, so I had to go on my limited experience. Yasmin had seen and heard a great deal yet Elsa let her walk away, and that had definitely been Elsa's doing.

Elsa was the worst kind of racial Supremacist; the benevolent one. She didn't base her status on some pseudo-scientific mumbo-jumbo. She based it on the feats of her ancestors, the training she had endured and the devotion she and her sisters dedicated to their craft; violence. She was better than the rest of humanity because she could kill us if she desired and take what she wanted.

We had what we had, even our lives, because she allowed it and she had no orders to the contrary. That was her generosity; her benevolent act.

"Might," I sighed. "If I fuck up my balancing act, they might use you to hurt me, or as an object lesson." Yasmin's face clouded with anger.

"Why did you invite me over if you thought things would develop this way?" Yasmin glared.

"Not being insane, I cannot fathom the minds of the insane," I reasoned. "As soon as I find a way around one challenge, they throw up something new. I certainly didn't know there was a 'members only' facility along with a gym for the rest of us peons." She looked down at her hands.

"They really are some kind of crazy cult," she muttered. She sighed. "You can't get out and now they know I exist; this is screwed up. What are we going to do?" She could be referring to herself and her son, or herself and me.

"I've got some money," I said. "A few thousand. I can get you plane tickets and you two can take off somewhere safer than here."

"You are a real man," Yasmin slowly smiled. What? Sensing my confusion. "You take responsibility for your actions, protect the weak and those in need, and you are brave in the face of pain and adversity. Where I come from, that is the definition of a man."

"Funny; where I come from that is the definition of bad Hollywood scriptwriting," I grinned.

"Ha," she laughed. She'd decided to stick around and fuck me despite the specter of eminent death. She was not callous to the fate of her child. Far from it. The only ally she had in this fight was me. She'd beat the fuck out of her husband with a bullet in her shoulder. When surrounded by hostile Amazons she still struggled to get to my side.

"What about your Jason Statham?" she prodded.

"He's English. Besides, I prefer Chiaki Kuriyama," I eyebrow pumped. "There is something about a chick with cast-iron balls."

Cáel and the Manhattan Amazons: Part 10

Snowden Speaks — Tue, 12 Nov 2024 04:48:38 +0000

With all the fighting and sex, my work reviews should suck.

In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.

Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected..

“Saving a life isn't about worthiness. It is about instinct and guts.”

(Friday)

Since I liked to think that life encouraging me with bruises, punctures, cuts and concussions made me smarter, I had scheduled some eleven o'clock gym time most of the week so to avoid the whole lunch and after-work crowds. Aya and I went to the 'Others' gym, which was nice, but wasn't as complete as the Full/Pure-blood one. Most notable was the lack of weapons.

Aya's and my trip to the 'Other' gym on Friday hit a snag. Aya clued in on the fact that I was avoiding the Pure-blood facility. We talked about it. I explained I wasn't a Pure-blood. Her counter-argument was she was and I should confront my fears. Yes, I lost an argument with a nine year old.

I have talked a nineteen year old, promise-ring virgin into nameless sex in an airport stall. Aya was an unassailable wall of resolve that dashed all of my ploys into so many useless words. I found myself entering the real 'No Man's Land' twice in less than a week. Not only was I hard-headed, I was also obviously soft-hearted.

At the last moment, I imagined I had a reprieve. I didn't have to tell Aya how I got in the first time; grabbing an open door. I could swipe my card, have it rejected and move on to safer pursuits. Sure enough, my card failed. Aya's didn't; mother-puss-bucket! Upon entering, the twenty, or so women in the place looked at me; and Aya.

I recognized somebody. It was Constanza, Elsa's chief evil henchwoman. Our eyes met. She smiled in a way that assured me she vividly recalled our last encounter. It should be of no surprise that I insulted her somewhere in the process. It's how I roll. I smiled back at Constanza and gave her a nod before setting up Aya and me for our workout routine.

Constanza was not mollified in the slightest. She was patiently waiting; for something. I decided that Aya would be my sole focus and banished the other women from my mind. The munchkin could tell the difference and relayed that to me with her happiness. After twenty minutes, she decided her time with the machines was done and her minutes were better spent resting against, or sitting on, me.

My cock was reminding me that it was approaching 36 torturous hours without sex. It was also pointing out that there were thirty available, sexually inquisitive women achingly close. I reminded my penis that being relocated was probably as fun-less as it sounded. That bought me some time. We finished up our sojourn by walking the wall, going over the weapon racks.

Mainly we went over the ones various members of her family were proficient with. Aya still had problems with even the most basic ones. The words 'let me help you' spilled out of my mouth. There were two problems; Aya's tiny size and the fact that all the weapons were very dangerous. Even the leaf-shaped short blade was too heavy for her so we ended up screwing around instead.

I picked up two Iron Age style axes. The blades were more of a thick wedge than the broad axe heads of medieval fame. They were less effective in delivering damage, compensating somewhat in their reduced weight. I've convinced a Jewish girl to have sex in a synagogue despite me not being Jewish yet this child was twirling me around her pinkie finger.

I was entertaining her with some exotic, flamboyant moves wielding two axes while Aya clapped her hands and giggled when I felt a stranger approach me on the sparring mat. I had been hopping around keeping all my weight on my right leg until that moment. I turned to face the woman, putting my left behind me yet while keeping it firmly on the ground.

I also drew my axes up, crossing them over my chest, blades pointing past my shoulders.

"I have never seen that technique before," she addressed me. That and what followed was all in the Amazon tongue.

"It is more of a fantasy creation. I had a love affair with pseudo-archaic movies that always do the crazy, two-weapon stuff so my mentor helped me create this method," I explained.

"Has it ever been tested?" she continued.

"I am Cáel Nyilas," I answered, "and yes, my mentor preferred using a poleaxe, or a mace/shield combo against me."

"Oneida," she seemed amused. "We will see how well you have been tested."

"May I request a favor?" I tried to keep my cool. She pulled out one of those damn spears.

"Yes," she seemed intrigued.

"Can you call someone over to sit with Aya? I don't want her to accidently set foot on the mat," I beseeched.

Oh My God! All their clothes vanished. What was I to do?

In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.

Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected..

“Living every moment like it is your last is less attractive tomorrow.”

(Still Wednesday)

Katrina had left for wherever she snuck off to; I suggested to Aya it was a game room, Aya suggested it was as torture chamber; only to return when the next turn of the screws came. I was informed I had a visitor coming up by the name of Libra Chalmers plus a guest. Quickly enough they appeared. The guest turned out to be Brooke Lee.

"Who are these two?" Aya glibly spoke as the two Vassar girls walked into the room.

"Hello Libra," I greeted my almost date from last night. "Hello Ms. Lee," I said to Brooke.

"It's Brooke," Brooke smiled at me; she was hungry and scenting around for something remarkably like me.

"I'm happy to see you; oh; this is my guardian and protector, Aya Ruger," I made the introductions. "No lie, Aya has been keeping up with my workload while I've been on 'light' duty. Aya, this is Libra Chalmers and Brooke Lee, both from Vassar College. Brooke is Trent's friend and Libra had mercy on me Tuesday night and kept me from being a 'fifth' wheel."

"I'm actually Trent's fiancé," Brooke corrected.

"Fascinating," I lied. Oh fuck, that was Not good.

"Cool. I'm happy to see the both of you, but what brings you to my office today?" I continued.

"Well, I showed up to ask for Trent and Libra asked for you," Brooke gave a sly smile.

"The thing was," Libra picked up the tale, "they were looking up Trent, but the front desk knew exactly who and where you were; so we came here first." My mind was busily working out how to pull Aya aside to give her a friendly warning when Katrina waltzed in.

"Ladies, this is my boss, Katrina Love, Head of Executive Services for Havenstone," I plastered a smile on my face.

"Katrina, this is Brooke Lee and Libra Chalmers. I met them Tuesday night," I kept things simple. Doom was impatient.

"Brooke is Trent's fiancé," Aya chimed in gleefully. She wasn't being malicious. She just didn't know any better. Katrina had been in the process of giving some congenial nods.

She stopped and turned on a dime. Damn it.

"Really?" Katrina's interest was piqued.

"Yes," Brooke beamed. She brandished her engagement ring in Katrina's face. Better yet, Katrina 'ooh'ed and 'aah'ed then spun on me.

"Cáel, I didn't know Trent was engaged," Katrina pierced me with those lethal ocular devices.

"Yeah, I bet you didn't," I groaned. "I only found out a moment ago." Trent had lied on his dating survey; slash application to Havenstone. They kinda/sorta made damn sure we had no external female attachments. It meant less bodies to dispose of if things went wrong.

I couldn't understand how they missed it then a curious custom/lifeline reared its ugly head.

"Brooke, that's your 'promise' ring, right?" I probed. "I'm sure Trent would get you a bigger rock for the actual engagement."

"Yes," Brooke confirmed. "We've decided to make the official engagement when our families take the Christmas Holiday at Hilton Head."

How could I express to Brooke that Christmas with Trent at Hilton Hea

Cáel and the Manhattan Amazons: Part 8

Snowden Speaks — Tue, 12 Nov 2024 04:47:48 +0000

Cáel's tombstone: For the love of women, women put him here.

In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.
Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected..

“Victory in battle is a matter of skill. Victory in war is a matter of persistence.”
(Tuesday)

Aya followed me to Medical for my daily checkup. It seemed I was no longer to be trusted with my welfare. Aya found the visit fascinating; not because it was new. Because she knew so many of the personnel. That sucked. The frisky doctor took care of me with the bonus of a little exchange with Aya.

"He's got a really big 'thing'," Aya chirped. I was suddenly wishing Elsa had given me a concussion.

"Oh, I know," the doctor smiled at Aya.

"He's quite proficient too. Loraine said he has had over 150 sexual encounters and he's so good he gets stabbed a lot," Aya related. I wasn't sure how one led to the other, though they did.

"Do you like having sex with women, Cáel?" the doctor teased me.
"Not when I'm sleeping," I sighed.

"I keep him safe when he's sleeping," Aya provided. "Its real serious work."

"Aya sleeps in your bed?" the doctor was a tad bit suspicious.

"To be specific, she sleeps on top of me, like a bear cub on a Momma Bear," I informed her.

"He's my Daddy Bear," Aya piped up.

"What does your real Momma Bear think of that?" the doctor poked playfully.

"She wants him to be my Daddy Bear too," Aya beamed kittens and rainbows.

"Oh, I bet she does," the doctor gave me a playful wink. Sex.

"This is all great, but I'm getting a bit uncomfortable and would like to flee to the dubious safety of work," I mumbled.

"All done," Doc said then patted my cock.

Oddly, that was one of the only two places on my body that hadn't been clobbered; my face being the other. They wanted me pleasing to the eye and sperm-functional. I dressed and crutch-walked away. At the elevator door, Brielle and her friend were waiting.

"Guarding you is going to be a full-time job," Aya took my hand and looked up at me.

She saw the lascivious look those two were shooting my way.

"You brought a child to defend you?" Brielle teased me as the elevator headed up.

"It worked, didn't it?" I countered.

"Aya stand in the corner and cover your eyes," the companion directed.

"Sorry; I apologize, but I can't do that," Aya said defiantly. "He's my bed buddy." That earned me some looks.

"Jeesh ladies, give me some credit," I groaned. "She's nine."

"Ugh; fine," Brielle relented. "So Aya, what's he like in bed?"

"Warm and he smells wonderful," Aya sighed dreamily. I was getting dreamy looks from the other two, but most likely a very different dream. "And he hugs me before I go to sleep and the first thing when I wake up."

"Fine Aya," Brielle's eye sparkled. "How about I trade you a band of 'honor gold' for a night with Cáel?"

"I can't do that," Aya reasoned. "He's the only Daddy I have. I think he is the only Daddy any of us have." Thank God the elevator opened on my floor. The philosophic elements of this conversation had become way too convoluted. I was the last one of us to get to Katrina's office which seemed to amuse Katrina.

"Cáel, you have the day off," Katrina informed me. "Didn't anyone tell you?"

"Oh, I'm not here to work. I'm here as your newest hire's; Aya's; lap-monkey," I replied gravely.

"Very well. Aya, stand in line with the others to receive your work review and assignments," Katrina ordered calmly. Aya took her spot next to Violet.

Aya nearly cried when she got my work review for Monday. Apparently I had done the equivalent of threatening World peace, or created a tidal wave generator that swamped the Maldives.

"Look on the bright side," Violet patted Aya's shoulder. "You can't do worse."

"How does it feel to know you will be less productive than a child?" Fabiola taunted me.

"It is nothing new," I snickered. "After all, I've been working with you for a whole week." This insult was compounded by the other five girls snickering at the jest. Aya didn't get it and Katrina was undoubtedly laughing on the inside.

"I'm going to get you," Fabiola ground her teeth.

"Come on," I sighed to Fabiola, "it was a joke meant to give a little levity before charging off to your days."

"Well, don't mock me," Fabiola snapped.

"But it is so easy," Paula giggled. Fabiola turned on her.

"Enough," Katrina demanded gracefully. She handed out assignments and the group departed. Aya had my job from yesterday. She also had Katrina's Nerf gun. Seconds after the first incoming bolt, Aya decided she loved working at Havenstone. After my fellow Executive Services sisters discovered that I had a secondary gunner, they began to triple team us in true Amazon fashion.

Aya countered by building a fort using sofa cushions. She'd also scamper out and round up spent darts every time her work queue was filled. To change things up, and gain a lesson in simple tactics, Aya would move furniture around the office. When a woman, or women, would pop in to shoot me, Aya would shoot at them from an ambushing angle.

Honestly, for a warrior culture, these ladies were remarkably fooled by a pile of towels on Katrina's sofa; hiding a miniature sniper. Lunch came by way of Buffy and Dora. I had a feeling that Buffy was still stung by Daphne's betrayal. Watching Aya try to stare down Buffy was both amusing and a tad chilling. I was going to have to do something about her frustration.

After Katrina released us, I pleaded with Desiree to entertain her niece; Aya, while I went to grab a few drinks with 'the guys'. The club they chose screamed overly-pretentious, overly-privileged and insanely over-priced. I didn't have the Class Ring, or Mummy/Daddy's bank account to go to a place like this. I had a sudden unsettling feeling.

I double-checked my bank account. I had around two grand squirreled away when I got the job with Havenstone and I knew that cache had to be running dry. I checked it and I had over five grand. Unless banks had radically altered interest rates, somebody was propping me up financially. Barring a rich girlfriend, I had a rich girl friend. Every guy I knew and liked was as poor as me.

I hobbled in on my crutches, drawing some stares. No one called out, or recognized me, so the general snobbish assumption was that I was a person who didn't 'fit in'. A few more hobbles forward and the looks began to change. My suit was tailored, I was an impressive physical specimen and exuded a charisma that implied 'eminently fuckable'.

Felix, Trent and Brian were polite enough to turn my way though they didn't call out. They hadn't grabbed a side booth, or a place at the bar. No, we had a table sans chair in the middle of the place because I had a bum leg and crutches; sadistic fuck-nuts. My first introduction was almost comical.

"Hey, Jared, isn't it?" some stranger tapped my shoulder.

Did he know me? No. His current female work-in-progress had noticed me and kept noticing me so he was playing the humiliation game. Fake intro; 'shocked' I wasn't who he thought I was; the revelation I wasn't from a Top Ten school; belittle me to his potential lady.

"No, Jared was my brother," I sighed. "You didn't know? He died in a jet-ski accident three weeks ago. Where you two close?"

"Ah;” dumbass stuttered.

"I am sorry to hear about your loss," the girl spoke up. "Were you and your brother close?" She had a Columbia ring, three years back on a gold chain around her neck.

"He was my twin," I mumbled. I leaned against our table and turned away (masking my grief it could be assumed).

She left Dumbass' table and came over to mine. By the looks of my three buddies, they were floored. In less than one minute, I had my arm around a stacked, pretty redhead who was rubbing her hands over my chest. My plan crystalized. I had to let someone bump into me, grunt in pain then have this nice lady; Nicole; take me to the rest rooms.

Once in that back hallway, it was a stumble and a bump into a stall in the ladies room and a quick sexual encounter. A junior corporate lawyer named Stevenson provided the catalyst. He was more apologetic to Nicole, but she was getting angrily maternal over me, my pain and grief. She blew Stevenson off and helped me to the restroom area.

Of course, I was 'sure' I could take care of everything by myself. Two stumbles later, she was insisting she take me to the men's room. I argued with her rather firmly. She couldn't come with me. After all, there were usually only one or two stalls and I didn't want to embarrass her. Nicole's inspiration was to take me to the women's room where there were plenty of stalls.

I begged her to let me go into the stall alone; despite my obvious discomfort and agony. She overrode my concerns and joined me. She took off my pants, my cock sang out 'hallelujah' and Nicole was mesmerized. I told her I found her attractive and hadn't had sex in a while. Nicole began administering a blowjob.

There were no 'uh's and 'ah's. That would be selling it in the wrong direction. I went the other way. I gritted my teeth and made as little noise as possible. When she finally broke down and asked if what she was doing felt good. I hissed out a 'yes' then explained how I didn't want to embarrass her with my vocalizations.

The resulting victorious smile and follow-up question were foregone conclusions. 'Yes, I did have a condom'. The girl wasn't stupid. She didn't ask me if I wanted to have sex. I had her where I wanted her; wanting sex; and she knew I wanted her. Clothes were lain over the toilet seat; the floors looked clean but still; and we got down to business.

Once Nicole decided she wanted intercourse, I took over. I had her one knee on the toilet, one leg on the floor and both hands against the back of the stall wall while I thrust her from behind. She was huffing like a steam locomotive as I was into her gushing depths. Unable to do cunnilingus this time.

Her first euphoria had her hissing like a pit of vipers and beating one fist against the porcelain wall tiles.

In the interim, with a bit of friendly finger play, I had discovered Nicole was a fully accessible sex partner. "Too much?" I whispered. Yes it was. We both knew it. This was a sexual gauntlet I was tossing down. How vigorous was she willing to go? Nicole was a hard-charging, go-getter for who life was a series of challenges. My words weren't an act of compassion; they were a dare. She could back out, or she could take my sizable rod up her unprepared sphincter.

"Don't hold anything back," she gasped. We twisted, turned our necks as far as possible and entered a deep, tongue twisting kiss. In the midst of that, I began pushing. Nicole was no anal virgin; that was a certainty. Equally certain was the pain she was going through as I drove all the way down. She was stretched out, her hips and cheeks were trembling and she was sweating up a storm.

She was in pain and loving it. Not out of some masochistic fit, but because she'd confronted a personal test and triumphed. All the while, we remained lip-locked. I soaked up her moans of pleasure, groans of pain and the combination of both when I was done. Only when I completed her, did I relax my pressure and let her adjust.

Nicole was the one who initiated picking up the pace. Again, I took over, upping our tempo until I was slamming into her rectum with all my might. Nicole was coming like glacial melt, tearing off huge chunks of her resolve every time she orgasmed. A few chicks peeked through the stall door to make sure I wasn't murdering her.

Nicole really was a vocal treasure. She could really keep the noise down when needed. Four climaxes in eleven minutes; I am a sex god. Nicole and I cleaned up. She couldn't stop smiling at me.

"I hope I've helped you deal with the loss of your brother," she purred as she snuggled against my chest.

"I'm an only child, Nicole. All that twin thing was for the dick-head who was hitting on you and decided to make a mockery of me with the whole 'you went to a loser school' thing," I told her.

"Oh;” she digested that. Sexual aftershocks helped her decide she didn't care. They never do.

"Where did you go to school?" she asked as we finished cleaning up at the sink; with three other women.

"Bolingbrook in New Hampshire," I grinned. "I live in a small, five room apartment, with my roommate in lower-middle class neighborhood, I don't have a car; I have a bike. That's good because I absolutely love biking, on and off-road," I kept going. "I work at Havenstone Commercial Investments making a quarter million a year starting out, plus a 'Gold level' benefits package. Mom's gone. My Dad is a working stiff, scoured by the elements most days, his sister works on a crab boat and that's my lineage. I'm Cáel Nyilas, by the way."

"Do you like picking up rich, successful women from well-heeled families?" Nicole and the other women around the sink blatantly listening in, studied me.

"Normally you couldn't have dragged me into an establishment like this," I chuckled. "This isn't my crowd. Three of the new male hires at Havenstone invited me out for some after-work drinks and they chose this place."

"Is that the whole 'class warfare' thing?" one woman, African-American, accused me. Sigh.

"I'm far more concerned with labor and land rights riots in China, gender unrest in India, the rise of religious fundamentalism all around the globe and receding polar ice caps than the anemic class struggles going on inside the United States," I engaged her.

That shut them up.

"What about a Free Tibet?" an Asian cutie interjected. My bet was Myanmar.

"Go to a few rallies, buy a bumper sticker then pat yourself on the back and delude yourself that you are doing something," I shrugged.

"Inside 50 years you are looking at Tibetan cultural annihilation. It is a numbers game. Keep adding Han Chinese into the population and Tibet ceases to exist outside of a few history books," I explained. "If you want to make a difference, recruit up nine friends, gather a war chest of a million dollars and take six month of intensive weapons and arctic survival courses."

"Sneak over the border into Tibet. Attack Chinese settlers, firebomb Chinese-owned shops and ambush PLA patrols. Cross back over to Nepal for resupply and reinforcements. Create an insurgency large enough to gather real media and governmental attention," I told them. "Otherwise you are wasting everyone's time."

"Violence is not the answer," a blonde joined the fun. Yes, I can be standing in a women's rest room without drawing outrage. Nicole was hanging all over me.

"How about this: give me your purse so I can take all your money, your ATM card and your PIN number?" I requested of the blonde. She took a step back.

"Okay, I'm going to ask you for that again, and if you don't give it to me, I'll ask a third time," I continued and I did just that; asking a third time. "Congratulations, you have the China; Free Tibet debate. If there was any doubt," I pointed to the blonde, "you are China."

"It is not like that," the Blonde insisted.

"Why not? China is using Tibet as land to put their expanding population on that doesn't involve emigration; a reduction in the tax base," I reasoned. "Therefore, Tibet has value. You are offering nothing of value to the PRC, expecting them to give you something they value, for free? How rational is that?"

"That's crazy," Myanmar chick stated. "Nonviolent protest works."

"I agree," I nodded. "It needs to be truly passionate to achieve its ends." Translation: I didn't believe it worked, but clearly these babes believed in it and getting snitty about some belief system I didn't really care about wasn't going to get me into their panties.

Pleased that they had impressed their enlightened approach to life, the other women let Nicole help me struggle back to my table. We managed to exchange digits and for her to give me her business card; cool, she was a criminal defense attorney with a firm that had five names and Esquire attached to the end.

They also had offices here, in Los Angeles, Mexico City, Hong Kong, London and Berlin. Nicole deposited me back with my 'buddies' who had sprouted some girl pals in my absence. Introductions went around. Nicole did a wave, winked at me then went off to her own clique of pals. Seconds after she joined up, there were multiple lusty looks from her group aimed my way.

Not every lady is looking for a commitment. For some, a hook-up hits the spot and they were not particularly jealous about sharing in their adventures. Nicole was going to go home, a smile on her lips, take a nice hot bath and go to bed worry-free. Her company was envious and planning how to get their own piece of my unworthy hide.

Fucking Nicole into a transcendent state didn't earn me a place in their 'educational elites only' world. That wouldn't keep them out of my bed, only someone they wouldn't mention to their parents. I didn't care. I wouldn't care unless they became clingy. Then I would have to parade her friends and colleagues past her as sexual conquests until she got the message that turning a guy into her 'dirty little secret' was doubly unfortunate.

Mind you, having a pair of wandering eyes myself, I had never enforced monogamy on any girl I'd ever been with. Deep down I was always looking for 'the one', I assumed that my sex partners were too and I never held that against them for looking somewhere else when I was clearly not the one for them. My sense of fair play rarely translated over to understanding on their part.

Back to my little crowd. From the start, I know we were all freaking gorgeous men. We were also bright and well-educated (though the rest thought I was a bumpkin). Having ladies stop by was a veritable given. How we handled it was multifaceted.

Brain Fung was a 'one foot out the window' kind of guy. He led off with how engaged he was, how wonderful his fiancé was and finished up with how arranged the marriage was. See, this gave him an out with every women he scored with. He was engaged, yet he was unhappy with the arrangement so some lucky girl might convince him to re-chart his course.

It would never happen. Brian thought too much of himself to be romanced. Besides, he had a five, ten and twenty year plan. The Prick shouldn't have joined Havenstone. His fiancé was from a good family, educated (Stanford) and willing to knuckle under to her family to marry Brian so he could assume she would knuckle under to him too.

He was never going to leave that comfortable future for some sweet piece of tail he could pick up at a bar, or nightclub. Girls were nothing more than a release valve for his sexual frustrations and by the end of the encounter, the girl would know that was exactly how he felt. He was good-looking, wealthy and confident; he'd always find someone else.

Felix was of a different mold. He was a player. Unlike me, he was all about hash marks, conquests and stroking his ego. You couldn't totally blame him; Felix was a Winner; capital 'W'. Awards, work accomplishments and pretty women were all the same to him; an aggrandizement of the Felix Melena saga.

He'd hunt the wildlife of the city until he was thirty then marry an early twenty-something virgin. Virgin? He had to be the first and only man she ever knew. Felix would have no trouble naming names and bragging over all the details of a sexual encounter because the only thing that mattered was Felix, his successes and everybody being aware of just how bad-ass he was.

Don't get me wrong. Felix was the type of person who got the job done and would never claimed the accolades that he didn't deserve. He wasn't a thief. He was really damn good. He was simply an asshole for constantly pointing out how damn good he was as a means of cowing/enticing people he encountered.

Trent was superficially similar to Felix but different in several important ways. The most important thing to Trent Grant was Trent. Trent seemed to talk endlessly about Trent. If the conversation wandering, he would insert a 'Trent moment' into things to bring the words back to where they belonged; talking about Trent.

The Havenstone women's description of Trent now made sense; he was dull. If you considered that so much of what he bragged about; his lineage dating back to Colonial America, his long family history in politics and business, and the collegiate successes of bo

Cáel and the Manhattan Amazons: Part 7

Snowden Speaks — Thu, 07 Nov 2024 02:13:00 +0000

If you think you are in the wrong place, you probably are.

In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.

Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected..

“Believing in yourself is not enough. You must impress that belief upon the Universe.”

(Monday)

My pain was legendary. Fine, my pain was epic. Okay, my pain was really bad, only exacerbated by a busy weekend. Sunday had started out fine. The girls hadn't minded being cooped up in my place for half of the day. We all worked out in the morning, which Nikita found odd. Then the young ladies explored a 'man pad', which was totally new.

Loraine and Nikita developed a complex relationship. Nikita was martial enough, older and far more worldly. They conflicted over me; Loraine wouldn't accept that she'd never conquer me and Nikita was stymied by the Amazon creed involving men. Europa bonded with Timothy in all kinds of odd ways including the exploration of the world of tattooing.

Aya discovered a new favorite position. I had lain belly-down on the sofa while Nikita gave me a back rub. Right after she was done, Aya climbed on top of me, laid her stomach on my back and relaxed, soaking up my scent and warmth. Only when we got them home did Loraine whisper to me that she'd never seen Aya that calm and at peace for such a continuous amount of time.

That warm fuzzy, along with Nikita being downright sympathetic and attentive for the rest of her stay rolled right into Timothy's and my date Sunday night. That ended up in a 'bizarre unless you are me' frolic late Sunday night. Timothy was a fun time for Nadia, Ulyssa's older sister, then finished up their date by pretending to pass out back at their place.

I'd seen Timothy drink steadily for four hours with barely a buzz. Still, that ended up with Ulyssa, Nadia and I in a three-way until one in the morning. That was when Timothy pretended to wake up and call out my name. The ladies and I wrapped up the sex session quickly and 'us' guys departed because, ya know, we had work in a few hours.

Timothy even changed my bandages again. I gave him a few bills to up our medical supplies. He took a few more from my wallet because he prophesied me being wounded would be a common occurrence. He followed that up by giving me a bear hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"You are a lifesaver, Bro," he sighed. "My break-up left me really down and you've restored my faith in life and love. Keep it up." Then we both went to bed.

I followed that up with an early wake-up call from Katrina telling me to show up thirty minutes early and report to the Medical Division. That led me to biking, one legged, through the city (Nikita and I had retrieved my bike Sunday afternoon) by dawn's early light and reporting to the witchdoctors at Havenstone. Thus my legendary, epic, really bad pain.

The Doctor at Doebridge had practiced traditional Amazon healing methods. The cute chick who escorted me into the Medical Division had actually heard we were in the 21st century. She sat me on a gurney in what passed for a modern Emergency Room and had me take off my pants. Then she asked me if I wanted pain-killers, or a local anesthetic.

"No, I'm a man," I bragged. I saw the bewilderment in her eyes. Was I saying 'no', or was I claiming to be a weak, frail male? "It is too late for your people to be nice to me now," I clarified. "You are monsters and I accept that, so let's get this over with so we can get back to our jobs."

"What are you talking about?" she tried to be disarming. Could it be she wasn't a full-blooded Amazon?

#To ease my pain, show me your bountiful bosom# I said in Old Kingdom Hittite. The nice, young doctor blinked. She knew of the lingo, but not the speech itself.

"No on the anesthetic," I sighed. "Please work professionally and quickly so we may return to our duties, Doctor."

"Of course. I'll be right back," she nodded then headed off to 'get some supplies'; in other words 'call Security'. They showed up lickety-split, doctor in tow. I recognized one from the Armory. To be polite, I let her know I recalled her.

"Oh, it is the Kindergarten graduate," I grinned. "Who is your lesbian playmate?"

"Oh goodie," Kindergarten snarled. "I get another crack at you."

"Wait," the buddy cautioned her. "Shouldn't we investigate the claim that he knows an unknown tongue?" She looked to me. "Well?"

"The Doctor needs to leave the room," I stated.

"You don't tell us what to do, male," Kindy snapped.

Cáel deals with wounds, lies and the clash of cultures.

In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.

Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected..

“The words 'I love you' inspires joy, relief and terror.”

I missed my entry to the infirmary. I was returned to clarity by the two female attendants. The younger went straight to cutting my left pants leg off while the oldest Amazon I'd seen to date began an excellent rendition of 'beef' inspector while pretending to be a physician. It was almost hilarious when she looked to Sydney, addressing her in Old Kingdom Hittite.

"Was he being disciplined, or did he do something stupid?"

"I did something stupid," I griped. "I showed up to work today." Since it was their native tongue, both of the medical attendants' eyes bugged out.

"He volunteered to help Aya of Epona with her archery lessons by letting her shoot at a fruit out of his hand," Sydney related.

"This; this isn't a wound caused by a practice arrow," the physician observed.

"No, that was from Leona of Marda. She attempted to kill him. When Leona threatened his controller, he presented himself for slaughter," Sydney clarified. "Hayden stopped Leona, Leona disobeyed and we need to plan Leona's funerary arrangements now."

"How did you come to speak our language?" the junior attendant asked. The tone of her voice and the look in her eyes was chilling and sensual at the same time. It was chilling because of the transformation she went through as I went from a piece of equipment to a close approximation of a human being in her eyes. I was getting tired.

"Erotic poetry," I humored her. "I had a lover some time ago; a scholar; who wanted to share Old Kingdom Hittite; Amazon love poetry and songs in the voices of their creators. I know multiple languages no longer spoken."

#Your eyes are stolen from the waterfalls descending from the highest mountains#

#Your hair robbed from the threads of the night sky#

#Your body is shaped by the Mother Rivers#

#Your beauty is the gift of the Goddess who knows both tears and love#

I recited it in the original Chaldean Babylonian. They were all staring at me, so I translated it into Hittite. It didn't flow as smoothly.

"What language was that in?" the security guard inquired.

"Chaldean Babylonian. It is a love poem from a prince to his dead wife," I answered.

"It was nice, even eloquent," Sydney remarked.

"Wow," I sighed. "It is tragic to think not a single woman in this room has ever been romanced."

"I am pretty sure every woman in this room has been with a man before," the security guard countered.

"After sex, what did the two of you talk about?" I regarded her.

"That's not what we use men for," the doctor spoke up while she began examining my wound. Pain. "We use artificial insemination and surrogates for procreation. Beyond directing them in our physical stimulation, there is no need to talk to men."

"Oh," I mused sadly. "That makes sense and is richly rewarding to know. If I was more like the rest of you, I'd be laughing. Unfortunately, I have a heart and compassion, so I'll pity you all instead." The doctor didn't take my honestly well. "Ow! Good bedside; Ow!; manner there, Doc."

"We don't need your pity," the security guard threatened.

Mixing assassins and child care; what could go wrong?

In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.

Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected..

“Lying is fine, but take care to not cause suffering because that makes it wrong.”

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

Cáel and the Manhattan Amazons: Part 4

Snowden Speaks — Mon, 04 Nov 2024 02:06:00 +0000

Bad things, worse things and making the best of what you got.

In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.

Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected..

“Suddenly knowing you are about to die, rarely does anyone any good.”

(Thursday)

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.

Cáel gets an offer that is too good to be true.

In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.

Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected..

“People who forget their past are doomed to be blind-sided by it.”

Monday

I couldn't help but notice the similarity between myself and the other four new hires. We were all clean cut men, fresh out of college, fit and masculine. The 'men' part of the equation made sense. Havenstone Commercial Investments had come out of a long legal proceeding over their accused discriminatory policies.

An undisclosed settlement had been reached plus they agreed to implement this new program to hire more men. For me that meant an employment opportunity with a Fortune 500 company despite my rather underwhelming collegiate career. Don't get me wrong; I had good grades. I also went to a college virtually no one had ever heard of, Bolingbrook College in New Hampshire.

With me was Chinese-American Brian Fung from Harvard, blue blood Trent Grant from Carnegie-Melon, African-American Khalid Adzharia from MIT and Salvadoran-American Felix Melena from the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor. For starters, they all had far better academic pedigrees them me, nicer toys, and better looking suits.

The second they found out where I was from, I was dropped out of their conversation. They were bragging about their awards and accomplishments, their families and where they vacationed, professors who knew them on a first name basis and when they planned to get their master's degrees. Given time to take in our circumstances without the distraction of being part of their little club, something occurred to me.

We were all freaking gorgeous. I don't mean cultured, handsome, or attractive to the opposite sex. I meant every one of us would be hit on in a nightclub in under five minutes unless we had a significant other hanging all over us. I was getting a sinking suspicion about what Havenstone considered 'crucial' for job performance and it didn't have anything to do with what alumni we were now part of.

Here I was with my Father's dark good looks, my genetics an ancient blend of Bulgarian and Turkish with a recent addition of Irish Gaelic. My eyes, the legacy of my Mom, were a deep emerald green. The broad shoulders, narrow waist and powerful arms and legs were part heritage with a serious application of physical activity. I exercised constantly, swam whenever I could and cycling was my religion; the tougher the terrain, the better.

Better yet, the brainiacs around me hadn't seemed to figure that out yet. Maybe they thought I was a 'legacy' hire, I had a relative on the inside. Nope. Mom died when I was seven and my Dad worked for Illinois Power and Light as a line runner. His sister, Aunt Stella, was a crab fisherwoman in Maryland and unmarried.

A series of off-handed comments in the interview process suddenly came back to haunt me. I'd been asked about who I was close to, both presently and back in college. They wanted to know about my 'moral character'. Fuck it all, I'd filled out a dating survey! I'd never used a matchmaking service, but I bet if I logged on to E-Harmony, I'd recognize the questions.

The door to the conference room opened and seven women entered. 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 conceded to your wishes."

At this point, the guys with a promising futures should have bailed. I didn't have options unless you considered 'do you want fries with that' to be a back-up plan. I was amazed the other four didn't see it.

"What we really want is a clarification of what this internship process entails," Khalid intervened.

Tessa's smile became all happy bunnies again.

"Very well," she appeared pleased, "let's start by introducing your mentors. Mr. Fung, 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.