Genii Karla - The Card of Zeus

Karla is supposed to be paying attention to her client, but all she can think about is the black card with the golden thunderbolt.

"You're not getting my bedroom furniture. I purchased that for us. Not for you to bang your teenage whore on while I was traveling for work!" screams her client across the table.

The yelling snaps Karla back into work mode. The soon-to-be ex-husband across the table folds his arms and turns red.

"Maybe you shouldn't have been fucking men on the poker table in the game room. You can have that filthy piece of furniture since you've been fucking on that more than in our own bed," he shoots back.

His lawyer to the left of him drops his jaw. Her client to the left bristles with anger and leans on the giant conference table.

"That was one time in response to the months you've been screwing a freshman in college. You know, someone almost a third of your age!"

Karla exchanges glances with the male lawyer across from them. She reminds herself that she's being paid by the hour for this exchange. Their look says it all.

*Not getting in the middle of this shit.*

They both lean back and let the married couple yell at each other. Karla tunes them out, thinking about the thunderbolt card, and can't wait to get back to her desk to look at it.

#

"Looks like the Mayors are going to need another mediation session eh?" ask Asiya. He's standing in Karla's office chewing on a stale doughnut. Karla curls her toes in frustration.

"Easiest two hours of my week," she says. "And probably the most entertaining."

"You mean watching twenty men gangbang a twenty something at club Joiful wasn't the highlight?" he asks.

Karla tries to push out the gross men at the club, including how gross Asiya looks with his stomach hanging out.

"I don't think you can beat the back and forth between the Mayors that I just witnessed. Its arguments like that between soon to be divorced couples over frivolous stuff like a bed that make me happy I'm not with anyone."

"Not with anyone yet," says Asiya. He winks at her. Karla smiles back as politely as she can.

"Don't burn the midnight oil too much Karla. Save your strength for the weekend. I got us tickets to a better club this time," he says, rapping his knuckles on her door as he starts off down the hallway. "Keep your Friday open!"

The door closes and Karla slumps into her chair, exhausted. The multilayer comments brought by her boss Asiya make her feel more alone than she has in a while. The Mayors were a heavy load at the end of a very long day of divorce mediation meetings that never seemed to go well. She sits up and puts her head in her hands, letting her mind wander away from the Mayors.

But then she thinks of the husband fucking a teen on the bed. That all familiar twinge, that itch in the back of her mind, starts to make her want to scratch. Then she shoots up in her seat in excitement.

*The card.*

She brings it out and puts it on her desk.

She recalls her interaction with the recruiter. Just feeling the weighted card in her hand as she turns it around in the light makes her taste the Clase Azul Ultra in her mouth again. A feeling of being special starts to cozy up to the itch in her head.

Karla turns the card over more in the light, inspecting it close. She can see nothing on the top. Nothing but the golden thunderbolt.

This is too heavy to just be a card, she says to herself. Mustering the last of her brain power, she looks closely to find something.

As she angles it in the light, the lightning bolt looks like it has a thin film glass over the top of it. She looks even closer. Just under the sparkling design of the gold, mixed together with little tiny inlay pearls and jewels. They're of fine make. But one little ball doesn't look like the other.

*An LED light.*

Karla scoots up against her desk and turns the card over more. Trying to find a button of some type. She begins to run her fingers along the edges.

And then she feels it. A slight crease. Right in the corner of the card.

She takes out a sharp letter opener and looks closely. The little crease is so thin and tight it's any wonder how it was made so well. Being careful not to damage the card, she slowly wedged the edge of the knife to the crease.

It pops open to reveal a USB-C port.

She curses all of her apple products and scoops up her files, stuffs them into her bag, and marches out the door to race home.

#

The card sits on her coffee table with the charger plugged into the card. Nothing happens yet. Sitting on her couch in her mid century modern home, she turns both the glass of wine in her hand and the conversation with the recruiter in her mind. Both run against that itch in her brain as she stares at the thunderbolt, waiting for something to happen.

Karla thinks about the first time she felt the itch.

She was with a man she met through an expensive dating app when she was acting as a paralegal for her current firm. The auburn man invited her back to his apartment. As he turned her toward the floor to ceiling window and ran his hands over her body, she looked at her reflection. She looked bored. She felt bored. But that changed when a light went out across the way from another apartment building across the street. Although sly, she could still see the man in the dark, standing behind the curtain, touching myself and watching them both.

And that is when the itch began.

She started to grind more against the man with the clumsy hands. She guided him. Made her firm hips and torso twist in sexy ways to the music he put on earlier. She looked back at her date, then out the window directly at the watcher. She unbuttoned the bra at the front, letting her breasts pour out of them. She led her dates hands up on her tits and made him squeeze her nipples, making her come up on her toes. She danced and grinded on him, making sure that her open legs were in just the right angle for the watcher.

She could see him in the dark, touching himself, going faster, and getting more excited the more she moved. She couldn't help herself but bend at the waist, keeping eyes with the dark stranger, and letting her panties fall to be completely naked in the embrace of her date.

She turned around and--.

She jumps and almost spills her wine as a noise emanates from the card.

It's a harp. A song begins as golden light dances through the thunderbolt. She leans forward to see it sparkling with the music, making the red and green emeralds within shoot streaks of colored light into her eyes and up onto the ceiling. When she looks up, she sees a projection from the LED light embedded among the pearls.

Among swirling images of stars and wheat, three faces appear. All three are women. One looks to have straws of wheat coming out of her hair. The other, flowers and sprigs of leaves. The last, wears a blindfold and has an ancient scale behind her.

Beneath the projections are two lines.

*Honor the Horai*

*and the 12 Olympians of the Road are yours*

Her mouth stays agape at the images on the ceiling as they swirl. She only stops when her neck starts to hurt. Her head spins so fast that the itch in her mind starts to make her wild as she memorizes the images above her, as well as the lines.

The harp song mesmerizes her as it syncs with the dancing stars and wheat icons. But as the song ends and fades, so does the light that emanates from the card. The images slowly disappear as the music stops.

But then a low rumble of trumpets sounds from the card. And as the sounds rise, new images appear.

It starts with a thunderbolt. But then cycles to other images. One of them is a trident. Then another of a bow and arrow. Then a dove. Then a harp. Then several others flash by that she can not remember. Then, they all project at the same time. She counts them. Twelve in all.

They fade out and the music stops.

The card goes still and projects no more images or music.

She takes the charger out of the card. The card is warm in her hand as she looks at it again and turns it over.

Her mind races to decipher the images and the two lines. But the itch in her head grows, making her start to feel wet. Her toes curl as the images nestle next to her long term memory, embedded in what might be the key to a new sexual adventure the likes few people ever get to experience.

She puts the card into a small velvet lined box and places it into the slide out drawer of the coffee table. When she stands, she feels herself soiled in her panties.

She slams the rest of the wine in her glass back and places it on the table as she picks up the phone. Her toys will not do this evening. She finds the contact of the auburn man and calls him.

"I know it's been a while," she says when he picks up, "But are you free this evening?"