Hypergeniture Bk. 01 Pt. 02

Like everyone else, the interviewers didn't know about the assassination attempt. No, they'd be asking how it felt to be suddenly rich and what my plans were for the future. The answer to the first question was that it felt like a punch in the gut. As for the second, I couldn't exactly tell them I planned on a future full of incest.

As we parked in front of the publisher, I thought out loud again. "I don't know how to be authentic... Dammit! I had a plan before all this happened... A good plan..."

Alicia took a deep breath, putting her hand on mine, guiding me to do the same. Her touch was intimate but not romantic and sincere within the boundaries of our professional relationship. Taking a second to settle down, I felt a little confident and stepped out of the car with a sense of calm.

A girl named Annika greeted my entourage and explained that she was the photographer. I chuckled, feeling the beard I'd left roughly untamed for several days. "I've never had my picture taken by a professional before. Hopefully, you can find a good angle."

The pale brunette laughed shyly at my remark. In a way, she reminded me of Alicia, down to how she walked. She was shorter than my two tall protectors but seemed even skinnier than the slender pair. I could tell she had a bubbly personality hidden behind layers of timidity.

The thing about Annika was that she felt like a real person from the real world. Yet, any illusion of a return to reality was quickly shattered as we got into the elevator and five security personnel crowded in with us. Here and there, I caught a glance of a gun or taser as the box crept from one floor to the next with an awful screech.

Coming to our stop, we crossed a narrow hallway to reach the conference room. That's where we met the interviewer — a print journalist with a face made for television and a personality that was so damn cheery it hurt. Her name was Lebo, with a B that sounds more like P and an O that drags. She was pretty with a cropped afro and pinecone brown skin, yet she shared a rosy undertone in her complexion with Annika and Alicia.

First, I was asked to stand by a window so that they could take a couple of pictures of me. The background was quite beautiful, with still enough light outside to capture the mountains surrounding Cape Town.

After the photos, we took our seats, and I noticed Annika place the camera on a tripod. The red light on the device remained constant, and Skylar quickly saw this.

"We weren't aware you'd be recording."

Lebo smiled in a way meant to be disarming, but my Pitbulls wouldn't fall for it. "There was an agreement that a video version of the interview will be posted online," the journalist explained.

Alicia cut in like a cobra, fast and aggressive. "An agreement with someone who doesn't represent Mr Orwell, clearly."

"Well, we can't proceed without the tape—"

"I will remind you who owns this publication," Alicia interrupted.

Looking around the room, I noticed that Annika was blushing a deep red — clearly no fan of confrontation. Between Lebo, Skylar and Alicia, there was none of that. No, the three of them would fight their corners to the bitter end.

I decided to make an executive decision. "You're more than welcome to record... If the final cut gets approved by my office."

The journalist agreed, "Very well."

"Let's get started."

• • •

Before I knew it, the interview was over.

Lebo was easy to talk to, and she focused on the business side of things. Instead of treating me like someone out of his depth — which I was — she allowed me to sound clever and grounded. Both journalists accompanied us down the elevator, when Alicia chimed in with a suggestion. "Shall we reserve a table in the city for you, sir? I'm sure our companions would love to get some off the record information."

"Sounds like you're in the mood for a fancy dinner," I chuckled.

Alicia's smile told me I was right, and I said she should go ahead and pick a place. She directed the two ladies with us to ride with me while she took a seat somewhere else in our vast convoy.

At the sight of the five SUVs, Lebo exclaimed, "Wow! You travel around like the president. Honestly, I've interviewed many billionaires, and I've never seen this kind of security."

Packing into the back of the car, I tried to divert the journo's attention. "So, have you two always wanted to work in the media?"

Annika was first to answer. "Media? Yes. I never wanted to work for a business magazine, though."

"Yeah? What's the dream job?"

The mild-mannered brunette's face lit up as I invited her to talk about her passion. "War reporting; telling stories that matter even if people want to avoid reading them."

Driving along, we eventually pulled up at our destination. The place Alicia picked was right on the waterfront with white table cloths, soft music, and dim light. It was only then that Lebo told me about her true passion. "I wanted to go into publishing — not magazines, but books."

"That's incredible!" I declared. "My little sister, Elle, wanted to do the same thing, but now she wants a gap year. Her twin, Tecla, doesn't have a clue what she wants to do. But she will figure it out, and with all the money, I know she can be anything she dreams of becoming."

I kept talking about my sisters for probably ten minutes. Lebo asked me what my dream was, and I shrugged in reply. I never had a dream job, unless any job that paid well enough to maintain a family of four qualified. Not a family I would start, but the family I was born into — my siblings and mother.

I realised that my incessant talk about family was becoming insufferable. Both Lebo and Annika looked at me with long faces as I rambled on, but I honestly didn't mind. I started playing a little game against myself — testing how obnoxious I could be before the two women decided I wasn't worth the trouble. We were flirting a little, but I wasn't interested. It was harmless fun and a distraction from the seriousness of life.

Lebo cut in, trying to break my streak. "Where are you staying while you're in Cape Town?"

"On a wine farm. We arrived by helicopter, but I believe we'll be driving back. It's not too far."

"I've never been on a wine farm at night," she said. "What about you, Annika?"

As if she were reading our lips, Alicia approached the table. "Sorry to interrupt, sir. We'd like to get going soon. Perhaps the ladies would like to join you for a nightcap back at the house?"

Clearly, my efforts at turning the women off hadn't worked. Both immediately accepted Alicia's offer, and I could barely restrain a loud groan. As much fun as I was having, I wanted to sleep until waking up in Singapore; reunited with my sisters.

We got in the car, and the drive back was tight and tense. Getting on a highway, we stayed the course for fifteen minutes before the vehicles suddenly swerved onto an off-ramp.

"What's up?" I asked Skylar, weary of risk.

"Reports of an accident on that route. We're going to bypass it, sir. Nothing to worry about."

The wound in my side tingled as my paranoid mind got racing. We soon made an aggressive turn to get back on the highway a little down the line. Now, the convoy was picking up speed. This thrilled the two journalists who were squeezed in the back with me.

Eventually, we were doing about 140 kilometers an hour as I peeked at the speedometer and the German SUVs shattered the peace of the night.

24 • Phantasm

I was lying in bed, tossing and turning, when I heard something push against the door. Getting to my feet, I unlocked it before checking the hallway. It was empty. Not a soul in sight.

Locking the door again, I sighed with relief. The two journalists were still in the house, but they seemed to have gotten my message. I would never cheat on my sister. Still, I didn't entirely trust myself not to give in to temptation. After all, money changes people, and near-death experiences have the same effect.

Since we got to the house, Lebo and Annika made it clear what they wanted.

"We like to have fun," Lebo said, sitting as close as possible to her friend.

There was a sapphic tension between the two. I wondered if they made a habit of teaming up on the people they interviewed.

It seemed likely...

Their first disappointment came when they saw the house. It was grand but aged and not as impressive as they expected from one of the world's richest men. Their second disappointment came when I turned them down and turned in for the night.

Now, I was paranoid. Had they gotten the message?

Perhaps a little insanely, I took the bedside table — a heavy wooden construction — and shifted it against the door. Now, no one could get in. I would be faithful to my sister, and in a strange way, I would remain faithful to Natasha.

As I returned to the bed, I noticed something that must've been underneath the table. It was a photograph of a couple and their daughter — a picture of Alicia and her parents. The sheen of dust over the gloss was thick, and I brushed it off to get a better look. All three people looked happy, but looks could be deceiving. Carefully scrutinising their faces, I noticed nuances that other people might not. Yes, I began to see the truth behind the smiles and the uneasiness in all their eyes. The only subject who seemed truly happy was the father; his grin wicked.

Evil.

Setting the photo down where I found it, I remembered the glass door to the outside. I checked it, making sure it was locked, before getting back in bed.

Closing my eyes and exhaling until my heaviness turned light and a smile formed on my face. Soon, I would be on a plane, and then it was a quick flight to reunite with my sisters — the most important people in my life.

I heard rustling but ignored it. The room was locked up tight, and no one could get inside. Then, I felt it... The bed creaked, and a feminine hand ran along my side. It touched the place where I'd been stabbed and pressed hard, making me feel the agonising burning!

I threw myself off the bed and away from the woman. The phantom. The psychosis.

She was on me again, my legs pinned and boxers vanished. I exhaled, knowing none of this was real as her supernaturally tight pussy clamped down on my cock. I slid deeper and deeper inside her; the grip making my chest tighten and eyes bulge as I dared to grab hold of her hips and pull her down even further.

I thrust my weight up when she was down to the hilt, and her pussy-lips were against my pelvis. She moved with me, staying in place as my cock blasted cum into her.

The orgasm continued and continued, my cock pulsing and cum flowing from it. Then, a second woman got on top of me, with her breasts against my chest and tongue pressing against my lips. I didn't want to kiss her — I tried to resist — but her teeth grazed my cheek, and when she returned to my mouth, I took her. The feeling of our tongues against each other as I kept climaxing was otherworldly — my permanent orgasm taking me straight to heaven.

A third woman entered the equation. She kissed my neck and shoulder, seeking every part of exposed skin that wasn't already smothered by one of her ghostly friends. When her lips landed on my scar, it stung. It was a good sting, which made my cock shudder again.

I was buzzing. I knew this wasn't real.

Throwing myself onto my stomach, I was on top of them now. Their legs wrapped around me, and they touched me all over as a fourth set of lips kissed her way down my spine. Her tongue landed between my cheeks, and I groaned loudly as I felt something new — something I'd never felt before.

I thrust my hips forward, and suddenly I was inside a tight pussy again. Now, I was fucking her... Making her moan and beg for more in a language of diphthongs I didn't understand. I hadn't stopped cumming, but now I wanted to fill her up; now I had intention.

My lips found something to kiss as the feelings continued — as the impossibility became too hard to resist.

I groaned again as the pussy seemed to clamp down, and the tongue from behind seemed to grow thicker. My whole body shuddered and failed and crumbled as I exhaled hoarsely. The world felt like it was shaking, and the earthquake's origin was between my ribs. I pulled my neck up, trying to breathe but failing.

Throwing myself onto my back, the impact finally snapped me out of it, and I slowly woke from the strange dream. Sweat dripped down my forehead, and I could feel heat emanating from my scar.

I thrust my hips up again, but this time there was nothing.

In post-orgasmic bliss, I started regaining my senses as the women faded. Their touch disappeared slowly, clinging to me until the last whisper of contact was extinguished. Opening my eyes, I realised that the room was empty. That I was indeed naked and on the floor, and that I did really cum.

Getting to my feet, I switched on the light, noticing that my scar was bleeding slightly. It was still healing, so it was 'normal.'

I went into the bathroom and cleaned my wound, not needing to do much else. When I went back into the room, I noticed the picture Alicia and her family wasn't there anymore. I checked under the bed, but it wasn't there either. I was sure I'd seen it, held it, and put it back where I found it...

Was I totally losing my mind?

Trying to regain my breath, I shook myself. I had to confirm, and I did: The doors were still locked, the room hadn't been breached.

I felt like crap, dizzy and drunk and hungover, all simultaneously. Heading back into the bathroom, I let some cold water run over me; condemning me to spend the rest of the night awake but washing my thoughts clean.

Taking a chance, I got dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, threw on some shoes and headed outside. Alicia wasn't standing where she'd been the night before, but I heard music from somewhere nearby. Circling the house, I found a glass sliding door, slightly open to let fresh air inside. The sound of two women laughing drew me closer and through its threshold.

"Sir?"

"I... Sorry... I..."

"Are you okay?" Alicia asked.

"Yeah... Yeah, I'm okay."

Skylar was sitting on the bed with Alicia. They were still dressed in the same clothes as the previous day, listening to music and playing cards. The song... The song meant something. I'd never heard it before, but I wondered if it too was a hallucination.

"Do you want to join us?" Alicia asked.

"Sounds like fun," I accepted. "By the way, what's this song called?"

"It's These Days," Skylar answered, thrilled that I asked. "By an Aussie band called Powderfinger."

"Huh... The lyrics... Am I still dreaming?"

Skylar giggled at my befuddlement and patted an empty spot on the bed. "C'mon, sir, we'll deal you a new hand."

A new hand? A new beginning... With a little help from my friends.