Harsh Introductions

Drinks arrived swiftly.

"A toast - to new possibilities!" I said.

"I'll drink to that!" Maria said, grinning widely.

We tapped glasses, and drank. It was a lightly honeyed wine, with spices.

"Oh, my, this is very good."

"Isn't it? One of the bartenders is a real sweetheart, she's the sister of one of our foremen. Well, a former employee now. He left on good terms, and we were sad to see him go. I'm still friends with her, and we tested some blends she's been developing on a slow day. I liked how it finally came out and she got it made an unofficial mix for me. 'Maria's wine special' I think they call it, but I only have it on special occasions. It kind of throws off my taste for anything else, and it's a high-alcohol base; goes straight to my head. I can't have too much."

"I thought wine was only middle-grade alcohol content?"

"Here in America it is usually something like eight percent by volume. But if you find some of the nice imports, they can go up to fifteen percent or so. It's also a little bit... expensive. It's possible that there's a law against wine with that high of a level; I think they have to re-label it, or sneak it in the country. That's another reason I don't have it too often."

"Why, that sounds distinctly naughty. Are you sure you should be dealing in things like that?"

She giggled. "It might be off-menu. Unofficial, you know. Plausible deniability, I think they call it."

She cleared her throat, sat up straight, and pulled an appropriately short distance away to tick off on her fingers.

"OK, business first before I get too carried away. We're starting you off at a respectable salary of fifty-five. That's the base amount. There are quarterly bonuses based on performance that I'm expecting to be quite respectable, but I don't get to control. Daddy said that both the board and the legal partners will have to approve them, given the special circumstances of your position, but as long as you actually do your job I don't see any difficulty making significantly more than that. Between that, retirement contributions, and other boring perks you'll hear about later, I'll bet you can break six figures if you are as creative and just as diligent as you were for your last company. You'll have to claim the car on your taxes, I'm afraid - but we can probably get you a company car next year for business trips, at no tax burden to you."

"Where do I sign?" I said.

"I'll need you to stop by my office next week, they should have it ready for me by then. We, uh, skipped a few of our normal steps and the paperwork takes a bit of time to get in order, even getting it expedited. You'll have representation in a case against Omnicron if you choose to litigate over the assault incident with your boss, and we can easily get their basic separation agreement signed for you, I'm told. Our lawyers have already discussed it with theirs to that point."

"I assume you'll be there personally, not just an assistant."

"I'll be quite happy to welcome you to the... family. Of course I'll be there in person."

Her eyes twinkled mischeviously.

"What else do I need to know?"

"I'll give you the tour tomorrow. You'll meet all our fine folks, whom it will be your job to keep safe and happy. Today, I give you a feel for how we'll be working together. Feel free to ask me questions about anything. I'm an open book."

"Anything at all?"

"Need I remind you, we are working!" She protested weakly, laughing and winking. "I said it, and I meant it. Anything."

"You wanted to talk about something else. What was it?"

Her smile became bittersweet.

"It can wait."

"No, no. It was important to you. I want us to start our relationship off right. You will let me ask you anything, and I will talk to you about anything. So, let's make this work. Talk to me."

"It was... about the other night. The break-in."

"I assume the investigation is still going on."

"Yes. It's probably going to go on for months. It was..."

She broke off, dropping her head to stare at the table. She looked up again, then pulled herself into an embrace. I held her next to me as she tensed up, then relaxed.

"I was so scared," she said.

"So was I."

"Daddy paid for training, sent me away. The same people that train the CIA for torture and interrogation, they taught me things... how to lie, how to stall for time, how to read people. How to negotiate. There were actors, they role-played scenarios with real guns, they... 'shaped my instinctive responses.' I knew what to do, how to step outside of my body that they might invade, to break me down, to torture me - even sexually. It was hard, but I was OK. But you didn't have anything. You were so brave. There wasn't much you could do, but you did it, and it made all the difference. I'm so glad you were there for me, but I hate that you were too. You know what I mean? That you had to go through that, to see that happen."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

"There's this feeling I've never had before. I wake up in the middle of the night, wishing you were there. I mean, I want to share my bed with someone I love, but this is something else. If I wasn't who I am, what I do, with a big company that I do it for, those people would never have been there. Nobody would care about me. It's because of me that it happened. It's my fault. I don't want to let them hurt you again. I want to make it all better."

"You didn't make them do what they did."

"No, I know, but - sorry, this is hard. They were only there for me. If you hadn't been with me, if you'd seen them on the street instead, they probably wouldn't have given you a second look. They would have just kept walking. They wouldn't have hurt you."

She took one of my hands, stroked it gently. Aside from a bit of swelling, it was hard to tell I'd been injured.

"How do you feel?"

"It still hurts a bit, kind of on the inside. I can still eat with a fork."

"No, I mean... here."

She put her hand on my chest, about where my heart was.

"Emotionally, I'm... I don't know. Still processing, I guess. That was crazy. I couldn't have predicted any of this. My friends don't believe it really happened, and I'm having trouble believing it myself. What I do know is there's nobody I'd rather have gone through it with than you."

"But you hardly know me! Wouldn't you rather have gone through that with Al?"

"Not really. Al's a great hydrotech, but his grasp of loyalty is... tenuous. I don't know exactly what would have happened, but I'm fairly certain our friendship would not have survived. I think I may lose him anyway, even though he wasn't there."

"Why?"

"We poor people have to stick together. That's the feeling, the unspoken alliance you form with someone you work with at a company like Omnicron where you both know management is out to screw you. Only, I'm about to not be poor anymore. You should have seen his face when he saw the Lexus. I mean, it was kind of hilarious, but I can tell he was hurt at the same time. I felt like he was condemning me, as if he was about to say 'I can't believe you've betrayed me like this.' As if having something nice has made me less of a person somehow."

"He won't sign an NDA if we ask, will he?"

"Maybe not. I think he'd be offended. We'll probably have better luck making it a 'gentleman's agreement' accompanied by a nice bottle of vodka."

"I like hearing you say 'we'."

"Well, I work for you now, right? I mean, indirectly, but I have to represent your interests. We're in it together."

"Yeah."

A little of the joy drained from her face.

"And I feel really close to you on a personal level, but we haven't really talked about that yet. I don't want to assume," I said.

The smile came back, and doubled.

"That's the conversation I've really been wanting to have. We've known each other for only a few days, but I trust you like I've never trusted anyone before, not only my life but with my heart. And I trust my instincts, too. We've been through so much now," she said.

"It's not over yet."

"I know. But it's going to get better from here. My father says the Cabal - that's what he calls the upper management of Omnicron, and their sister companies - is running scared. They know they're in trouble. But they don't know how much, yet. We've got the best people on it. I mean, world-class professionals. Beachum and Fitch, your new employer, doesn't just have lawyers. They have a network of private investigators, forensic scientists, even journalists. It's a strange operation, but uniquely suited to the feud that's going on. The break-in gave them all a real shot in the arm, and the Cabal got sloppy at the same time. Big changes are coming to our entire industry here, very soon."

"All I can say is, it's about time."

"But enough about that. We were talking about us, and I want to talk about Wednesday."

"What? Oh, the club. What about it?"

"We were doing something, just before I hurt you. Do you remember?"

"I, uh, kinda had you by the throat. Sort of."

Maria pursed her lips nervously.

"I don't want you to be... afraid to do things with me. Like that. I'm guessing you might have some negative associations from the memory. If... if I promise not to hurt you, will you do that with me? Please?"

That gentle word, 'please', melted my resistance.

"Yeah, since you ask so nicely, I think I could try that again."

"OK, good."

She leaned her cheek against me, wrapping her arm around my shoulder. Her dark eyes smoldered up at me, and her lips were parted invitingly.

"You want to make out?" I teased.

"The real question is, how bad do you want it, mister?"

I leaned in, but she pulled back, batting her eyelashes at me.

"Are you strong enough to be with a woman like m- mmph!" she started, until my hand caught the back of her head and pulled her towards my face, turning her words into a groan deep in her chest.

Our food arrived just then. I started to pull back, but Layla said, "Oh no, don't stop on my account!", winked, and left.

It was a mind-blowing kiss, the kind that took my ability to think about anything else, or even make commentary in my head. Maria was squirming, shuddering, and ended up in my lap grinding on me. Eventually, the smells of food enticed us away for a bit. The salad was, in fact, simply amazing. I'd never had anything like it before; the dressing was a creamy citrus with a perfect blend of oils and spices to coat the vegetables in pure deliciousness.

"Tom..."

I looked up. Maria had a somber look on her face.

"What's the matter?"

"I need to tell you..."

"I'm listening."

"I feel like you're going to call me crazy. But this is important to me, so just... just listen. Until I'm done. If I don't get it out the first time, I might never be able to finish."

"OK."

"I was terrified the other night. I learned how to act aloof, but inside I was scared almost out of my mind. I almost lost my composure, so many times. When they tied us up, when you went upstairs with that gun at your back. When they pushed you and hurt you. When they started pulling my clothes off. It was like living a nightmare. I just wanted to scream and make everything go away. Just, I don't know, faint and lie there until everything was over. But then you would have been there alone. I tried to be strong for you. I can't imagine what that was like for you, watching that happen to me and being helpless. Well, you weren't completely helpless, but I didn't know what was going to happen. And it could have been so much worse if you hadn't broken the window. It made such a huge difference, that one moment. I needed you like I've never needed anyone in my life before. And you were there. The worst moment of my life, you were there for me. I can't even tell you how much it means to me. I feel so close to you... I trust you like no one else."

She crumpled against me, burying her face in my chest, sobbing. I held her, and let her cry. I felt like there were no words for this situation, nothing I could say would make it better. So I just held her. The world spun without us for, oh, it could have been an hour. No less than half that, at least. Finally, she shuddered to stillness. I stroked her hair gently.

"I'm a mess," she finally said, peeling herself up from my shirt.

"You're beautiful," I said.

"Huh. Just you wait," she muttered. "I'll be right back."

I sat and took in the music, drifting in a sea of emotion. Should I have said something? I wracked my brain, trying to think, but there wasn't a single thing I could have said that I was sure wouldn't have hit the wrong note somehow. It was another half hour before she came back, but miraculously she was back to her cheerful shining smile, hair and makeup perfect as if nothing had happened and my shirt hadn't been soaked with her tears. Now it was only slightly damp.

"Thank you. I just needed to get that out, and let you know how I feel. That, and... forgive me if this is too early for you, but I just can't hold it in. I love you, Tom. I don't want you to feel like you need to say it back. But I adore you. You're just the man I needed. Maybe the man I've always needed. I don't want to push you into anything too fast, and lose you - god, anything but that. So just tell me if you're uncomfortable. But I'm going to say 'thank you' a thousand times, a hundred different ways, and I'm going to mean every single one."

"I'm good with that."

I smiled, relieved. She smiled back. She straddled my leg.

"Here's the first one," she said. "Thank you, for being there for me."

She leaned forward slowly, gently.

"Here's the second one."

Our mouths touched, and a shock passed between us. She squeaked, grabbed onto the cushion of the booth on either side of me tightly, and shuddered against me. Her eyes flew open, pupils dilated.

"Command me," she whispered.

"What!?"

She cleared her throat.

"Um. 'Can't be.' That felt like electricity. Did you feel it?"

"That... is not what you said."

"Isn't it?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

"You're right, though, it did feel like electricity."

"I know, I'm not even wearing nylon stockings! Those will build up a lot of static charge, I've heard."

Her phone rang. I don't know how she heard it, to be honest. She answered it.

"I'll be right back," she said, and walked out to the quiet of the lobby area.

She was all business when she got back. We talked about the corporate structure, charity initiatives, and competition in heavy industry.

"Almost nobody knows that Spirenelli and Onmicron are feuding," she said.

"So we don't need to worry about our people feeling threatened by recent events?" I said.

"Probably not. There might be some angst in general, but aside from being the convenient competitor to make fun of, the employees really don't have much opinion on this as far as I've heard."

"I guess that sounds right. It's all so much bigger than you when you're just a line worker. The HR nazis are just as threatening as the guy doing your same job for somebody else, if not more so."

"Right. So what we probably want to focus on for our people is the negativity and stress of modern living in general. I've got some training material in my office, we'll go over it the rest of the week."

"So, no posters of Satan whipping slaves in a galley ship on the office door?"

She laughed.

"You wouldn't believe what my boss had..."

Her eyes widened.

"He didn't!"

"Actually that exact thing, or near enough."

Her mouth dropped open.

"That's unbelievable. Did he even try to justify it?"

"He would probably have told you it was a joke, just before 'joking' that he might fire you for being subversive and hinting that even saying such a thing was 'stirring up trouble'."

"I'm so glad you're away from that place. I know I'm biased, but that truly sounds awful."

"I'm glad too, believe me."

I smiled. She smiled back. We sat back and relaxed, discussing random topics.

"I have to go. I have a dinner appointment with a payroll merchant. You can stay as long as you want. I've got a car on the way, so you're free to go wherever."

"Aww."

"Don't be sad. I'll see you tomorrow. Oh, and don't go shopping for a suit without me!"

"Why not?"

"Just don't. Trust me."

"Ok. You're the expert on corporate image, I suppose."

"Darn tootin'. Besides, it'll be fun, I promise."

She put her hand on my cheek and gently stroked, looking deep into my eyes.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"OK. Gotta go. I loved this, we should come back sometime!"

"I agree!" I said, waving.

She blew another kiss. And then she was going, going, gone. I stayed a little bit longer, but it wasn't the same without her.

*****

I couldn't get enough of her. I could barely tear my eyes away when we were together, and when we weren't she filled my head. I dreamt of her, day and night. I was falling, hard. She was making excuses now, I thought - at first, she'd clung to me like a wet t-shirt, but when I came to her office to review the training videos, she would excuse herself and vanish. Friday arrived in a flash, and I cornered her in the hallway.

"Hey. We need to talk," I said.

I was being rude, but she had to know what she was doing to me.

"You're right. Shall we have it over dinner? Pick a place. Something you've never had before. Agreed?"

I expected her to be defensive, for some reason. I didn't know how to take her quick turnaround.

"Alright. Shall I, uh, pick you up?"

"Don't be silly. We'll have a driver, so we can both relax."

"Fine. Six?"

"Sure. He'll drive you to pick me up at half-past, if I'm not mistaken."

*****

She wouldn't meet my eyes for long in the car. I was really starting to worry, now.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"Let's have a drink. I'll tell you all about it."

"You're not mad at me, are you? It's only partly my fault I can't keep my eyes off you, you know."

"'Lord, grant me patience'," she quoted.

"Come on, you're killing me here. Not even a hint?"

"I'm not mad at you. It's... my own problem I've been trying to work through."

"Oh."

That didn't sound like my fault, at least. I didn't get anything out of her until we were seated, and had a stiff drink already in both of us.

"Alright, spill it. What's going on?"

"Tom, I- I'm sorry. I'm not trying to avoid you. It's hard to be around you, though. You're practically glowing, and it's even worse when you know I'm there. It makes me - want to do things. That we can't do. Not at the company offices."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" I grinned a wide, wicked grin.

"Maybe, maybe not. Tom, be honest with me here. How many girls have you been with?"

"Uh, a few. Let's say six."

"Six. And how many of them, say, had fuzzy handcuffs? Or liked to get spanked?"

"Well, I did tie a girl up once. That didn't go so well. She got frustrated. I wasn't doing it right, or something, and she started making fun of me, and not in an actual fun way. I hated it."

"You'd know better, with me. I'd tell you what was wrong. I wouldn't make fun of you."

"I believe you."

"I've had this scenario playing in my head. I keep seeing us together, in my bedroom. I want..."

She trailed off, took another drink, then plowed forward.

"I want to just rip my clothes off and throw myself at your feet. I feel like I could trust you to do anything, and not hurt me. Even if you hurt me. Does that make sense?"

"You mean, hurt you in a way that you were OK with?"

"That's what I'm trying to say, yes. God, my tongue usually works so much better than this," she chuckled, embarrassed.

"You want me to hurt you?"

"Well, no - I mean, if you wanted to, I'd let you, to a point. But I want to do other things with you. For you. Do you know what I mean?"

"You want me to... command you."