tagMind ControlAn Accidental Love God Ch. 09

An Accidental Love God Ch. 09


Chapter 9: Don Giovanni Enterprises

Madamina, il catalogo è questo Delle belle che amò il padron mio; un catalogo egli è che ho fatt'io; Osservate, leggete con me. In Italia seicento e quaranta; In Almagna duecento e trentuna; Cento in Francia, in Turchia novantuna; Ma in Ispagna son già mille e tre. V'han fra queste contadine, Cameriere, cittadine, V'han contesse, baronesse, Marchesine, principesse. E v'han donne d'ogni grado, D'ogni forma, d'ogni età.

So I suppose I should tell you how I came to be sitting in my ranch office, drinking a very fine anejo tequila and smoking a very good cigar listening to my favorite aria from Mozart's Don Giovanni, the so called "Catalog" or "Little Black Book" aria sung by Leporello. For those of you not well versed in opera or Italian, the translation is

My dear lady, this is a list Of the beauties my master has loved, A list which I have compiled. Observe, read along with me. In Italy, six hundred and forty; In Germany, two hundred and thirty-one; A hundred in France; in Turkey, ninety-one; In Spain already one thousand and three. Among these are peasant girls, Maidservants, city girls, Countesses, baronesses, Marchionesses, princesses, Women of every rank, Every shape, every age.

And people think opera isn't sexy.

I have not loved them, at least in Leporello's sense of the word. Since my initial bumps in becoming an incubus I have been completely faithful to my wife. However, an awful lot of women from these ethnic backgrounds, and many others, now work for me and they seem to enjoy every second of it. They are not, of course, of every age; they are all over 21. They are never of every shape; each one is fit, sexy and hot, as the business I run requires. If you have been in certain "gentleman's clubs" in Vegas, New York, New Orleans, LA, San Francisco, Houston, Dallas and... well in lots of places, you have probably met some of these ladies.

Homo Sapiens Incubus, as I think of myself now, has been around since the rise of civilization. There is mention of us in the most ancient of texts. Gilgamesh's father was an incubus and his mother a succubus. Almost always we have been referred to as demons and persecuted. A good deal of that comes from our early lack of control. Some of it comes from the fact that, in human lifespan terms, we appear immortal (our typical lifespan is 300 years). Last, in the earliest of days, we "fed" -- not really the right term -- more often. The sexual act enhances our immune systems greatly. It also enhances the immune system of the person we feed upon, so it is to mutual benefit. In the days before modern medicines and antibiotics, when people routinely died of communicable diseases we no longer hear of in first world countries, immune systems required far more maintenance. Even with this, some of us occasionally succumbed to plague, smallpox, TB, cholera, typhoid and any number of other creepy crawly diseases we no longer worry about.

The persecution and self-preservation was not the only thing that drove us together. I attended my first gathering after creating my first draft of a business plan, not knowing anything about my biology and not knowing how I could live among normal and not knowing how I could present my idea to anyone who would believe me and provide me seed money.

Jose, who you may remember from earlier chapters met me there and introduced me to Malcolm, an incubus with a genius level IQ, a PhD in Biochemistry and so swish he made Tim Gunn look like he was a middle linebacker for the Green Bay Packers.

Malcolm recognized me as new to all this and took me to a quiet corner to chat with Jose and Dr. Lauren McEvoy, the doctor who had altered my hormones just enough to kick in my next step in evolution.

"Oh Lauren! Why can't you just convert one gay guy to give me some company?" Malcolm bitched, waiving his dark skinned, limp wrist in the air. "Even a bi one? I mean this guy is so strait he is the shortest distance between two points!"

"I take it our powers don't work on same gender seductions?" I asked.

"No it doesn't sweetie!" Malcolm made a tut-tut sound.

"Must suck to be you then."

"Oh sweetie I can't begin to tell you!" Malcolm touched my arm. "You are so sympathetic! Maybe you can show me some additional sympathy later? Get a taste of chocolate sucker?"

"Malcolm is laying the 'Priscilla, Queen of the Desert' thing on thicker than usual tonight." Lauren said to me. "Malcolm, let's not play with the poor man's head too much. He's a virgin here."

"Yeah mano. He's not had an easy introduction. The three of us were born this way. Not him" Jose chimed in.

"Actually he probably was born this way" said Malcolm, switching into a 'passing for strait' mode. "Look, were you always able to date women that your friends thought were out of your league?"

"Well," I thought for a moment. "I guess yes. Guys always asked me what my secret was. They were joking but there was an edge to it. When we decided to get married I got lots of 'what the fuck is she doin' with you?' types of remarks."

"The only thing that the hormone treatments and your little shock did was kick your powers to the next level." Malcolm explained. "You would have lived a longer than average human life, now you'll live a normal incubus life. You'll be free from almost every human disease because of your enhanced immune system. You'll always look younger because the energy you generate from sexual activity will repair your telomeres. You provide the same impact on a temporary basis to anyone you have sex with. Your wife looks younger and isn't chopping from the Chicos catalog anymore, I bet. Anyway, that combination, plus some other things, means you'll live to about 300."

"300?! Holy shit!" I exclaimed. "Does that include my family too?"

"Your wife, definitely not." Lauren jumped in with a better bedside manner. "Your kids, maybe. The genes are recessive so it will depend."

I sat back in shock for a few minutes, tears in my eyes.

"I always thought I'd go first. I.... I cannot imagine the loneliness... not having them... her... my wife around." I was close to sobbing.

Lauren sat next to me and gave me a hug. I lost it then, sobbing into her shoulders. Jose joined her, comforting me while I composed myself.

"Hey dude, this is why we have each other. We need this." Jose said.

"So, how old are all of you?" I asked, trying to bring myself around to the new reality.

"223" Jose said. "I was born in 1775 in Santa Fe, then in Mexico. The inquisition was still going on there and mi madre was arrested and tortured as a witch. She was a suck."

"Don't call us that please" chimed in Lauren. "And you know I am 75"

"And I'm 106." Malcolm said, switching to swish. "This gay colored boy was born in the heart of Jim Crow Mississippi."

Malcolm switched back to "passing for strait" mode.

"It was not easy." He continued.

"I bet" I said. "But Jose, and you Malcolm, how? I mean how do you not make the news as the oldest people around?" "We have been doing this for 5000 years sweetie!" Malcolm said. "We have money and treasure stored up to make life comfortable for us, to get new identities and bribe whoever we cannot seduce into doing what we need."

"It doesn't always work." Jose explained. "My people came here when they were hounded out of Spain by the inquisition. That's cause they were conversos and the Catholics thought they were goin' back to bein' Jews. That's the other reason the inquisition went after my moms."

"If your that old why do you talk like you're a 16 year old from East LA?" I asked Jose.

"Oh mano! Youse got to keep up with the times" Jose said.

"Would you prefer I called you massa?" Malcolm asked, now speaking like a pre-civil rights movement "negro" addressing the head of the local KKK.

"Ok, I get it."

A hand reached over my shoulder to a plate of cheese on the table we were gathered around. Without looking I passed the plate back.

"Well, thank you very much" came a very familiar voice.

I turned and dropped my jaw in surprise. The man with the voice extended a hand. I stared at it for a few moments before Lauren nudged me and I regained some composure.

"You can call me Aaron. That was my middle name." he said in a mid-south drawl. "And before y'all ask, yes I was Elvis."

Aaron sat and joined us. "Those of us who can figure out ways to make some money for the common good. We then support each other as needed. We invest in businesses and have controlling interest in many companies. Others use our powers of 'persuasion' to close sales. I've heard you're doin' that yourself."

"Yeah. How did you know?" I asked.

"Dude! You told me!" Jose exclaimed.

"Oh, yeah, right"

"We need to keep tabs on each other for safety. 'specially new folks like you." Aaron said.

"Wait!" I stopped. "Did I just hear something about investments?"

"Yes." Lauren explained. "We invested in several pharmacy startups that Malcolm runs, using substances derived from us to help normals."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Well the latest was the HPV vaccine. The one for cervical cancer? That was derived from blood and vaginal scrapings from Miriam over there..." he pointed to a tall African American woman.

"and Jo Anna over there." He continued pointing to a woman with long red hair.

"and me!" Lauren finished.

"Yes." Malcolm continued. "Then we sold out to Glaxo and took a huge profit."

"So if I had an idea?" I asked.

"Let's introduce you to JP over there." Aaron said, pointing to a man with one of the ugliest noses I've ever seen, puffing on a huge cigar.

I'm a history buff. "Is that?"

"JP Morgan" came the response.

I'll spare you a long and dull discussion about finances. The bottom line is that we came to a deal. I invested a good percentage of my commission money. You know how I earned that. The incubus hedge fund invested a great deal more and DGE, Inc. - Don Giovanni Enterprises - was formed. So far no statute of a dead general has come to life to drag me off to hell.

We have fairly standard, if expensive high end gentleman's club operations. Our idea is that you've been invited to party at a friend's home, only your friend is a Russian billionaire and his home is filled with fabulous women to entertain you and cater to your every whim.

This business model succeeds in attracting a certain class of man - the sort that has lots more money than brains and tends to make decisions with his dick. This is where the second part of my operation kicks in. We take the names and some form of photo ID of everyone who uses a credit card at our clubs. So far, this is a standard security practice at these clubs to prevent guys from claiming that their credit cards were ripped off and then stiffing us. We track this data and use software I wrote to scan social media, business web sites and credit reporting agencies for information on where these guys' work, how much they make, what their job is and what they are into besides strippers, fine booze and the occasional cigar. We then distribute this data to my sales staff at the consulting company (I should add that the incubus holding company bought the original owners out and promoted me to chair) and spread the data around to various incubus and succubus who are in sales, who use the data to close their own deals with their own companies.

I should add that the clubs themselves make almost sickening profits. IT gets easy when I sell a bottle of wine in a champagne room for $600 when it normally retails for $50.

Of course, the fact that incubus and succubus run these clubs helps. The incubus work out then put their pheromone soaked workout clothes into the HVAC system, saturating the club and making the girls particularly -- happy to work, shall we say?

A succubus typically greats each guy at the door and walks him to a seat, making sure to touch him and get him all hot for the women around him. Not that these guys would not be turned on already. We are very generous with dancer money and that attracts the best.

I made routine visits to the clubs to inspect operations. Things were managed by incubus and succubus and I was not worried about money. Being kicked out of the only group you could count on over the next few centuries was a strong deterrent to ripping off your boss. I had ideas about quality, however, and I wanted to make sure they were met. So this is a fairly typical encounter.

I immediately started calling this guy Barney when he walked in because he reminded me of Barney Rubble. He was alone, on a business trip and lonely. I should add he made about $120,000 as a software engineer and was below the threshold we had for follow up sales. That level was over $250K per year. Anyway, he soon had a woman at his table who used Morgane as a stage name. She wore a red tight "club dress" -- a nice term for a stripper costume - and red sandals with 4 inch heels. Her dark hair was up in a bun. He was in the engineer's uniform of kakis and a shirt with some obscure software company's logo on it.

She got him a few drinks and a few lap dances. I could see him leaning back with eyes half closed I pleasure, barely able to keep from coming right there on the main floor. After multiple lap dances Morgane convinced him to head to a VIP room. There I could see and hear through our security system. This business needs this equipment for the safety of our women. Strip clubs attract some real assholes sometimes.

Barney opted for bottle service with Irish whiskey - at $750 not cheap- and was soon doing body shots out of Morgane's navel.

Morgane stripped out of her dress and was dancing for him, grinding onto his lap. Barney would thrust up into her and Morgane would dance away seconds before he came. I must say she was good at bringing him close to coming then backing off.

"OOO fuck baby. You are such a tease" I heard him complain.

"And you love it!" Morgane noted correctly.

"Oh yeah baby but I need more. Fuck I'm so horny."

Morgane lay on the floor playing with her clit. "I'm hot too."

I wanted to see this show get hotter. I picked up a tray of snacks and brought it into the room.

"Don't let me interrupt." I said, setting it down and touching Morgane.

"Cum many times" I thought as I touched her.

When I got back to the security interface Morgane was back on the floor, moaning with pleasure. Her panties were off and she was working on her clit with abandon.

Barney was stroking his cock through his pants. "Oh yeah baby. That is some show"

Morgane moaned then shouted. "Fuck! I'm coming!"

Morgane bucked up hard moaning with passion as she came. After catching her breath she looked at Barney.

"I bet you want that cock sucked." She said. "Will you take care of me?"

"Oh yes!"

Morgane crawled towards him then knelt before him, rubbing his thighs. "How much?"


Morgane licked his cock through his pants. "You can do better than that."


Morgane kissed his cock and stroked it with her hand through his pants. "MMMM is that all this is worth?"

Barney moaned in pleasure and frustration.

"OK! $500!"

"MMMM for that you get my pussy too."

Morgane took his zipper in her teeth and pulled it down, exposing his cock. Her tongue expertly teased the head and licked the shaft. Barney was actually surprisingly big and she managed to take his entire length into her mouth. She had no gag reflex I suppose.

Barney sat there moaning with pleasure.

"Don't come yet." Morgane purred as she slipped a condom onto Barney. Smart girl. She positioned herself on his lap and sank down onto him, impaling herself on his cock.

"OOOOOO You are good!" Morgane moaned and I think she meant it. Of course my pheromones should take some credit.

Soon Morgane was bouncing up and down in uncontrolled passion, moaning. She covered her mouth to keep from crying out in passion when she same, as fucking a customer was technically against the rules.

She came again, and again covered her mouth to keep from crying out. Her spasms were too much for Barney and he shouted as he shot his load into the latex sack. Only the loud music prevented everyone in the club from hearing him.

So the girls made money and I made money and we are all happy. And here I am at my ranch.

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byRockyMountainErotic© 2 comments/ 41011 views/ 10 favorites
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by Anonymous

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by Imno_Treal08/10/18

It's too bad these stories can't be edited for spelling errors.

MY GOD! It's straight NOT strait.
You can't imagine how distracting that is to me.
I do, however, like the plot and writing for the most part other than the mis-spellings.

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