I Am Sir. I Am Master Ch. 01

It was six fifty six in the morning. A massive dark walnut conference table with supple chocolate leather seats on either side were the only furnishings in the room. Floor to ceiling windows provided an immense amount of shrouded tangerine light allowing us to watch the sun rise over the city right before our eyes. I sat across from Wilhem Cobbel. Wilhem was a round German man with a monocle and a mustache. Not the kind Hitler fashioned, these were more like handlebars. Sweat poured profusely from his brow as his Easter pink British spread shirt began to soak up the excess. Beside him sat a blonde with short hair, a simple bright blue blouse and a generic black skirt. She had the audacity to wear flats to this meeting which must mean she was either married or prude. Checking her watch, then her phone I deduced the former. The color on her blouse felt arrogant to me, though it may not have been meant to be so. I'm taking it to mean such, which is fine by me as I stir my black vanilla tea. The scent is both calming and rousing. I can't wait to begin.

My client sat beside me casually puffing on a Monte Cristo cigar. It would appear that our combination of vapors were creating an atmosphere of impatience as time settled on seven AM.

"Shall we begin?" I asked.

"My name is Jessica Shultz and this of course is Wilhem Cobbel. Today we begin negotiations to reduce the cost of arms being sold by Mr. Cobbel's 'Kreuzotter Korportation', in exchange for the sale of mercenaries - Salvator Gomez and Mahmoud Sadir."

She began to open a folder and spread out a series of charts and numbers before her.

"Before you waste your time Jessica, let's just stop right there. There is no way on this magnificent earth that we will take reduced arms costs and give up our two best coins. "

Mahmoud Sadir is one of my company's best politically placed terrorists. He straddles the line between Iran and Saudi Arabia making him a perfect coin. A "coin" is a political figurehead that we can flip from good and prominent peacekeeper to inhumane terrorist at the drop of a dime. Thus...coin.

The other, Salvator Gomez, is an Argentinian drug lord that is being used to test out a new drug codenamed 'Option 2'. In order to make this drug you must cultivate vast amounts of Lepidothamnus fonkii - an endangered plant species exclusive to Argentina. Gomez has been allowed to keep a portion of the profits, though recently he's been asking for more. His last shipment to us was only a fraction of what we normally receive.

We have no idea why...yet.

"How much would you like us to reduce the arms cost by for both of them?" her voice sounded impatient.

I slid a blank piece of paper to my client who then proceeded to write down a number, fold the paper and send it back. After unfolding it, I gazed at the number, then at Jessica and smiled.

"My client wants a seventy percent reduction in arms. And we keep Gomez." I forced myself not to laugh but a smile did manage to break through. Cobbel was in the business of making some of the finest law enforcement weapons you will never see, because only top secret government agencies use them. Perfect balance - innovative design. They are a homicidal masterpiece. You can understand then why that was shitty lowball offer. I glanced across the room and could see Cobbel, ready to explode with rage.

"Sir, are you out of your mind? Maybe, just maybe we would consider that kind of reduction if we kept both of them but there is no way we're going to let you keep Gomez too."

I glanced at my client who was in an intense stare down with Cobbel.

"No deal then."

Cobbel took his eyes off my client and placed them on me. As did Jessica.

"Then why did I have Mr. Cobbel wake up at such an ungoldy hour this morning and waste his time?"

"Well, I think it's more like Mr. Cobbel wasted his time with you and your terrible negotiations."

I slid my card down the table - gliding it inches away from Cobbels coffee.

"If you were any good at negotiating - which you're not - but if you were, you'd see that this is an unfair deal for us. Yes the hit you take in arms being sold to us is immense. However, with the current climate in the Middle East, do you really think you'll ever be out of business? Between what you can get for oil and charge the western world, along with the consistent revenue stream you'll have from the numerous uprisings, I'd say we are the ones taking a hit. Drug wars were popular in the 80's, not now. What am I going to do with a shit ton of weapons and no wars to use them in? Right now, there's barely any revenue in South America. So sure, you can keep them both. But we want a ninety percent arms reduction along with a twenty percent share in Kreuzotter Korportation. I'd say that's a fair deal."

"I'd say you're out of your mind." she scoffed.

"Out of sight out of mind. Oh and you think you can keep Gomez and Sadir under your thumb? We've already had to send out two delegations to find out what Gomez is doing with our money and Sadir is like a rap superstar on steriods when it comes to his spending habits. Something I bet Cobbel has no clue about. Does Cobbel know anything about 'popping bottles and slapping bitches'?"

The room went silent for a moment.

"I'd like a moment to discuss this with my client."

She rose and walked out of the room with Cobbel. Ten minutes later they were back in.

"Sir, I believe we have a deal. Seventy percent. You keep Gomez."

Our clients rose and shook hands, then exited the room. I was left by myself with Jessica.

"Well Sir, that was quite a negotiation."

"Yes it was. That's the job I suppose."

"It's pretty early, would you like to grab some breakfast?"

As she spoke she brushed the hair from her eyes and glanced at her shoes.

"Perhaps if you asked me the right way I'd agree."

"What is the right way?"

"By completing that sentence with the word, Sir."

She chuckled and shot me a look that was all too familiar.

"I don't work for you."

Abruptly, she began gathering her things with an insulted smirk creeping across her face.

"You really don't seem to be a very good negotiator. Is this your first day?" I asked.

Those words struck a nerve within her. Her smirk turned to a glare.

"Well, thankfully you haven't agreed to breakfast. I don't think I'd be able to sit with someone as arrogant as you while I'm enjoying the most important meal of the day." Upon gathering the rest of her things, she briskly walked out of the room. I slipped my iPad into my suitcase and pursued, catching up with her by the elevator.

"You're wrong you know." my words attempting to turn the tide.

"Wrong about what?"

The elevator chimed.

"Breakfast isn't the most important meal of the day."

We entered as she pressed the button for the lobby. The elevator doors closed and we began to descend.

"Oh really, what is then?" - she snapped.

My hand shot out and hit the stop button on the elevator.

"You are." I growled.

I lunged at her, cupping her face with my hands, staring through her eyes and into her depths. She gasped in my mouth. It is a fragile few seconds when two lips meet. The uncertainty of a kiss. At any given moment, I could have received a slap that rang my ears raw with rejection. Yet the slap did not come.

So I continued.

There before me was the spoil,
Let loose the dogs of war.
My hands released her buttons -
A lady now my whore.

Breasts to palm.
Moans to cue
The sounds of heavy slurping.
Vibrating knees and simple plea's
Would let me know it's working.

A spasm here -
A sigh there -
Her heart beats upon my tongue.
A sweaty look of panic.
A heave of heavy lung.