Heat, Stress, Burns, and Cuts Ch. 02

All characters are over 18

Hi everybody, just so we can keep confusion to a minimum, this chapter begins with a reading from the leather journal that Danny had found in the previous chapter. Also, I refer to the hotel manager as 'The Manager' and the hotels concierge as 'The Concierge' because they are meant to be characters with no personality or depth, wherever Danny goes, there will always be 'A Manager' or 'A Concierge' so I decided to keep anonymity to the person who makes up the title. Hope you enjoy!

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New York City, 1789.

As my trek to New York had finally come to end, the day had just begun. As carriage was lacking a bed, every bump between Georgia and New York had made its presence quite clear upon my aching back. Soon, the roads became too populated for me to continue my journey in the carriage; alas I set out on foot. Through the thriving markets of the small neighborhoods were welcome sights. Hearing lively songs at the pub, preaching at the church, and babies and mothers cries mixed together from the happiness at the hospital.

Such a lively and innocent city New York is, if the wool had been brought up from over their eyes then that innocence would disappear like darkness to light. If they knew what we did behind closed doors to help make their lives better... Most of them would snap under that kind of pressure, a pressure that they could never begin to dream of, not even the new President knows any such pressure and scrutiny that I endear.

Speaking of the President, today I am meeting our newly appointed one and we are going to be chatting about a successful partnership between the Vanderbuilt's and the Washington's. I was called forward by President Washington himself, he says in his letters that he respects what I have done for my community and family, but he believes I can do more. Even with the stress I have right now, I believe that I can do something great for this nation, if I have the funds, and the man-power. As I approached the President's hotel suite, his guards greeted me outside with a smile, almost as if he knew who I was. They gave me the go ahead and escorted me inside.

Their he stood, the new president. His gaze was set, out the window, looking out to the people who just yesterday, looked upon him at his inauguration, he seemed to almost recognize some faces. He was soon brought out of his gaze when he heard my boots on the wood floor. He turned to greet me and his face lighted up.

"Mr. Vanderbuilt!" He said, with a large grin, "Please come and sit! May I get you a cup of ale?"

"Splendid! I am parched!" I said as he and I sat, and was given our drinks. "So, what brings me into your presence today, Sir?" I asked.

"Well, I have herd of you." He said, pausing to take a drink from his glass "You seem to be quite feared around your city, you are the go-to guy for a loan or a favor around there, no?" He asked.

"Why yes, indeed I am, I fancy having friends in many places and diverse trades!" I grinned and took a sip of my ale.

"Well, how would you like to do your exact same job, but on a larger scale?" George asked.

"I am afraid I don't follow, Sir..." I hesitated.

"Well, you see, I have a lot of work on my plate and I need someone with expertise in many areas to provide aid to me. In other words Mr. Vanderbuilt, I would like to offer you the position of Hidden Adviser. This means that along with advising me on certain issues of importance, you will also be giving aid to whomever needs it in the government." He cut me off before I could speak "Please! I meant to say that this can be an incredibly lucrative opportunity for you and yours. So, what say you?"

"Well, what kind of person would I be to turn down the President, yes sir, I am at your service whenever needed!" I said, while shaking his hand.

"I am so very glad to hear that Mr. Vanderbuilt, you're going to be of much help to us!"

Washington D.C, 1815.

As I reflect back on the first day that I accepted that job, I often find myself wondering why. Why did I take the job? The answer always comes shortly after the question and it is always the same; I did it because I was not made to do anything else. Some things are certain, like the stress of my occupation, the love for my wife, and my eventual demise, but if I didn't have these things in my life then I wouldn't be who I am today. I think that at some point in my career I went too far, I out too much on my plate and the stress became too much. My wife and my kids began to notice and it soon became certain to me, an old man like me can't handle this anymore. I soon decided the best thing to do was to see if my son would like to work in my place. It turns out, just like me, the stress is a drug, it makes you feel good, and kill you all in the same minute.

Some words of wisdom to any Vanderbuilt reading, be it my son, or my sons son; don't let this stress eat away at you like it has me, if you give into the stress you will be as weak as I, and you are not. You can be better, you can do more, and you can be great.

- For the last time, Thomas Vanderbuilt.

Boston, Massachusetts, 2016.

He died a day later, you know. Thomas Vanderbuilt was the first in the long line of Vanderbuilt's to have run this gauntlet that I will soon be enrolled. For the last twelve hours I have been barricaded in this room reading the journal either alone, with Megan, or with Samantha. After all of this I just needed to process, I drew myself a bath and sat to relax. I was soon accompanied by Megan. She eased her way into the tub, soon settling with her ass grinding against my cock, trapping it between her back and my chest. I was too deep in thought to be horny. I know, I know, don't tell me, a hot chick is ready to fuck but I am declining, sue me.

We soon start talking about that we have learned and read over the days, as we dove deeper and deeper into the subject, the knot that was once in my stomach soon turned to a pretzel. This stuff was scary, but in this moment, the water hugging my body and my arms wrapped around my girl, I felt safe. We talked for what seemed to be hours. We watched the sunset from our tub and soon after we had talked this all out, my member between my legs decided it wanted to play for a while.

As my cock started to grow and grow between the two of us, my hand snaked around and I circled her nipples with my fingers before lightly tugging on them. I got the desired effect from this as she started to melt into me, her moans echoing off of the bathroom walls. Playing around while looking at the Boston skyline is defiantly adds a voyeuristic element to the mix. And I'll tell you that seemed to get Megan going; as my hands finally made their way down to her cunt she was writhing with anticipation. In the same moment that my hand rested on her pussy, her hand was brought behind her and she took a firm hold of my rigid rod. After both of us did a little teasing, she guided my cock to her warm hole and I impaled her with my rock hard erection.

"Yeah, come on Danny; stick your big dick into my tiny little cunt!" Megan moaned. I did as she asked as all 8 inches was in her in a matter of seconds.

"Your pussy is so tight baby, how do you like my dick you cockslot?" I asked, egging her on. We made our way to the bed, continuing the dirty talk along the way.

"Mmmmhhhh, I love it, your cock is filling me to the brim babe." She moaned as she began her attack on my dick.

It was a battle; we both wanted the others orgasm and it was a fight to the end for who would get it first. She started by coming on strong, bouncing on my dick like a bunny, her advance lasted for a few minutes until the tables turned and I went on the offensive. My strategy was different, I flipped her over, and as we lay eye to eye, I took a more sensual route, appealing to her emotions. Deep and slow thrusts from me had her moaning uncontrollably. I multiplied the pleasure by rubbing her clit, pushing her further and further to the edge. She still held out, trying to not cum first. I decided it was time to play dirty; I lubed up my finger with her pussy juices, then I dropped my hand down and put a finger into her ass, and my other finger back onto her clit, the battle was soon over.

"Unnnhhhh ya I ba- ah unnnnn" I couldn't comprehend what she was saying through her stiff body and gritted teeth. I didn't let up; I kept thrusting eager to get my relief after a 'brutal' war of the orgasms.

"I am going to get you back, you bastard!" Megan hissed completing her previous thought with lust still in her voice, "Come on, take your reward, and shoot that load inside of me like a real man!" That really got me going.

I renewed my assault on her poor little pussy, pounding it hard and fast, pulling Megan's hair and increasing even more in speed. I only went for another two minutes until I uncontrollably hosed down her insides with jizz.

"Ooohh, yeah. That a boy Danny." Megan cooed. "I figured that you wouldn't have had this much of a sex drive with Sam around..." She said, slightly surprised with a bit of relief mixed in.

"I actually haven't had anyone else," I said, her ears perked up as I continued "I have felt a bit worried about hurting you or making you feel jealous. I love you too much to hurt you." I said, as the emotions started to come up.

"Danny," Megan started "I don't care if you fuck other girls or not, but I am leaving you the option to because I know that with the changes to come, you will be traveling a lot and I might not be there all the time. I just want you to know that the option is open if you decide to take advantage of it." She finished, smiling, leaning in for a kiss.

We cuddled and stayed in the night until 9:30pm came along. I started to get ready for my beer with Ivan. Edward was outside to greet me, we decided it be best to walk to Ivan's. On the way, I thought it the perfect opportunity to talk to Edward one on one.

"So Edward, I am curious as to how much you know about me and your position here." I asked, stone-faced, knowing that he hadn't yet been informed of his promotion.

"Well sir, I don't know much about what I am doing here. Before I was brought here I was top of my class at the secret service and I was going to be put as the head of the president's security. But one day, a man came up to me with a signed document from the president and said that I now work for you, and this is one of the most elite positions in the US government." He said, smirking at his achievements. "However, that wasn't really the question," He continued "You asked about yourself, and so far I only know two things. The first, you have a very high ranking governmental position, and two you are very, very, wealthy." I was intrigued to hear how he came to his conclusions so I urged him to expand on his deduction.

"Please, explain you reasoning, I am very interested in knowing."

"I can see that you do not come from much, which is evident from our talk as you got off the plane, talking about your previous career, before you discovered all of... whatever this is. So from there I saw your suit at the will reading, and your watch on our motorcycle ride, compared to your previous attire, money was no longer a factor. I could tell that you knew how to enjoy yourself and have fun, which is normally not a political minded view. Now to the good part, I believe that you found out that you were rich, I am guessing right after your time upstairs at your old house. This was because of how your face had turned from stressed and scared, to care free and happy. You are obviously a smart guy, while some think five steps ahead, you think twenty, if life was a chessboard, and you would be champion. All I can say is that I am very happy I am on your good side." The only thing that I could think of was how lucky I was to have such an astute Young man on my side. Ed is a great addition to my team, I will have a person to bounce ideas off of, have some fun with when I am on the road, and other things that will only be learned in time.

"It is great to have you on the team Edward, consider this an interview for a promotion that I am giving you. I will be happy to talk to you about all that this is. You deductions were spot on, I recently learned that I am now the operator of a group called The Collective, we operate in secret. You are the 53rd person to know about our group who is still alive today. We run everything, the nominations, the executive orders, the bills; we date back to the amendments. The title of "Advisers Chief Of Staff" is now yours, and you will be privy to most if not all of The Collective's business from now on. You will manage any employees I take on, not that I will be anytime soon, you will organize meetings or trips. Lastly, you will be my confidant for Collective business, I can bounce ideas off of you, and you me. How does that sound?" I asked

"Sir, I would be greatly honored to accept this position, yes!" He grinned and shook my hand. At this point we arrived at Ivan's.

"Hey, there is a cool doughnut shop down the way if you want to grab something, or you're welcome to come inside and light up a stogy..." I said.

"No sir, I will hop down the street to a good pizza place! I will be back in around twenty minutes, will you be sooner than that, if so-" I cut him off

"No, I will be longer. Now, go and enjoy yourself. Hell, take a chick back to the hotel!" I said taking out my wallet and handing him a stack of one hundreds. "I forgot to mention, your promotion also includes a considerable raise, consider this part of your bonus." He was all smiles, he thanked me and quickly dismissed himself to go and spend some of his cash.

As I made my way into the Tavern I decided to take a mental note of exits, people, and noticeable sights outside. It was a valuable skill to have in these troubling times, I learned it from job interviews and restaurant consulting, it was to insure that I knew if there were anythings to worry or be cautious of while inside. I knocked on the front do and was soon greeted by Ivan, he welcomed me inside. We grabbed a beer and started to shoot the shit. Small talk at first; weather, sports, and the like, then we got a bit more personal; family, political views, and philosophical questions. However, we soon got to the questions that were important; I wanted to know what he knew about The Collective.

"So I have a question for you," I said, pausing to take the first sip of my third drink, "What do you know about what I do and who I am?"

"Well," He said, slamming back his second beer, "I don't know a lot, to be honest. I was approached around... Gods, must of been thirty years ago, they offered me a large yearly income to keep my business running, to give people things for free, and to close whenever they say so. The paycheck was all I needed to know." He concluded

It was becoming more apparent as to how The Collective has stayed hidden for how long that it has; compartmentalization and money. You can try to keep anything secret, but there will always be someone who will try to dig deeper into what is going on, that is where the money comes in, and cash can buy silence easily. The Collective had this down to a silence. Upon some thought, I decided to keep Ivan in the dark; it would put him and his family in danger if they knew the whole truth.

Then it hit me, the people who were after me were incredible smart, they always thought the long game. They have killed, cheated, and stole for the power they have. I think that my father knew I would go to Paris that night. He wanted me to. He wanted me to get tough, and accustomed to stress on a daily basis. All this time I thought that I was no longer "in the family" per say. But all was the contrary, I was his legacy. He sent me away to grow and get tough, just as he was on me during my childhood. This is when I realized, I needed to act in brutal and unmerciful ways, for the protection of myself and my family. I bid Ivan goodbye, we planned to meet the next time I am in Boston. I decided to shoot Ed a text telling him I was headed home and to stay out, I didn't want company now anyway. I called up the Concierge and made sure there was a bottle of something strong in my room by the time I arrived back.

As I arrived back at the hotel, it was a blur, partly because of the alcohol and because of the impending panic attack, but I had to stop to admire a breath taking women who was at the bar. She was short, of Asian descent, and had a stunning red dress that sunk to her knees. Boy, did that dress emphasize her tits and ass, she must of had rock hard abs under there. My eyes scanned her whole body, my eyes trailing down, and up again. As I reached her face, we made eye contact. She smirked at me and took a sip of her drink through her straw. I couldn't talk to her in this condition, but I noticed that the manager had been watching our encounter so I learn more about her soon enough. Surely enough there was. Just as I capped the bottle I heard the door open, I couldn't talk now, there is too much going through my head...

In order to process all that I have just learned, with a drink in my hand, I decided to retreat to the rooftop, just me, myself, and I. In this big a city, you feel as though you are such a tiny part of its footprint, the cabs whizzing by beneath you, the office workers burning themselves out working through the night, the frat boys drinking their self's into oblivion. Sometimes seeing all of this at once shakes you to your core and makes you wonder what you are doing, what your life has amounted to, and why you are where you are. But somehow, all in the same breath seeing the constant construction, the incessant bettering of the city, it can inspire you to do anything and make you hungry for more. Then there is the sound, it is a distinct sound that gives life to a city. The inhale of fading sirens, and the exhale of roaring buses, the heartbeat of subways thumping beneath you, it gives a completely new dimension to how you view this city.

It is frigid outside, but I persist, knowing that if I walk in right now and see Megan or Samantha then I will completely break under the pressure. That was exactly what I didn't need; to breakdown, and show weakness to those who are already more scared then me. I remembered my ancestor's words about stress, and not letting it get to me. Spending my entire life in a high stress kitchen, you would think I would be well equipped to handle the stress, but you thought wrong, nothing can prepare you for this. The constant worry of being attacked or assassinated, knowing that there could be a threat around every corner. What is worse is that I am just sitting here, I have no experience in this job. Think back to your first day of school, where you worry yourself so much before you start, and then it is fine when you get there. That is exactly what I am doing, constantly hypothesizing possible scenarios, or problems. What made it worse is that I needed to hold all of this worry in, so I don't concern the others. Just in that moment, I remembered that I still had one person I could talk to; my father! I quickly grabbed the metal block out of my pocket and waved the ring over it.

"Hello Son, how may I be of assistance?" Father asked curiously.

"I am freaking the fuck out dad!" I spewed out, possibly mixing some words.

"Son, calm down," His demeanor changed from happy to comforting on a dime. "What is wrong and how can I help?" He asked. I spilled my mind out to him, told him all of my worries, hypothesizes, and everything. Basically, if my mind was an internet browser, I just closed about 1500 tabs. These "tabs" ranged from The Collective, to thoughts on bio-science, even proposal ideas for Megan, everything was gone, and my mind fog had cleared, stress alleviated. After about 45 minutes of my rambling I finally stopped, and he spoke.