tagSci-Fi & FantasyLife as a New Hire Ch. 08

Life as a New Hire Ch. 08


This story plays fast and loose with Ancient History and Linguistics; be warned.

Chopperfan327 strikes again!

For my readers, who put up with a lot.

Victory in battle is a matter of skill. Victory in war is a matter of persistence.


Aya followed me to Medical for my daily checkup. It seemed I was no longer to be trusted with my welfare. Aya found the visit fascinating; not because it was new. Because she knew so many of the personnel. That sucked. The frisky doctor took care of me with the bonus of a little exchange with Aya.

"He's got a really big 'thing'," Aya chirped. I was suddenly wishing Elsa had given me a concussion.

"Oh, I know," the doctor smiled at Aya.

"He's quite proficient too. Loraine said he has had over 150 sexual encounters and he's so good he gets stabbed a lot," Aya related. I wasn't sure how one led to the other, though they did.

"Do you like having sex with women, Cáel?" the doctor teased me.

"Not when I'm sleeping," I sighed.

"I keep him safe when he's sleeping," Aya provided. "Its real serious work."

"Aya sleeps in your bed?" the doctor was a tad bit suspicious.

"To be specific, she sleeps on top of me, like a bear cub on a Momma Bear," I informed her.

"He's my Daddy Bear," Aya piped up.

"What does your real Momma Bear think of that?" the doctor poked playfully.

"She wants him to be my Daddy Bear too," Aya beamed kittens and rainbows.

"Oh, I bet she does," the doctor gave me a playful wink. Sex.

"This is all great, but I'm getting a bit uncomfortable and would like to flee to the dubious safety of work," I mumbled.

"All done," Doc said then patted my cock.

Oddly, that was one of the only two places on my body that hadn't been clobbered; my face being the other. They wanted me pleasing to the eye and sperm-functional. I dressed and crutch-walked away. At the elevator door, Brielle and her friend were waiting.

"Guarding you is going to be a full-time job," Aya took my hand and looked up at me.

She saw the lascivious look those two were shooting my way.

"You brought a child to defend you?" Brielle teased me as the elevator headed up.

"It worked, didn't it?" I countered.

"Aya stand in the corner and cover your eyes," the companion directed.

"Sorry...I apologize, but I can't do that," Aya said defiantly. "He's my bed buddy." That earned me some looks.

"Jeesh ladies, give me some credit," I groaned. "She's nine."

"Ugh...fine," Brielle relented. "So Aya, what's he like in bed?"

"Warm and he smells wonderful," Aya sighed dreamily. I was getting dreamy looks from the other two, but most likely a very different dream. "And he hugs me before I go to sleep and the first thing when I wake up."

"Fine Aya," Brielle's eye sparkled. "How about I trade you a band of 'honor gold' for a night with Cáel?"

"I can't do that," Aya reasoned. "He's the only Daddy I have. I think he is the only Daddy any of us have." Thank God the elevator opened on my floor. The philosophic elements of this conversation had become way too convoluted. I was the last one of us to get to Katrina's office which seemed to amuse Katrina.

"Cáel, you have the day off," Katrina informed me. "Didn't anyone tell you?"

"Oh, I'm not here to work. I'm here as your newest hire's - Aya's - lap-monkey," I replied gravely.

"Very well. Aya, stand in line with the others to receive your work review and assignments," Katrina ordered calmly. Aya took her spot next to Violet.

Aya nearly cried when she got my work review for Monday. Apparently I had done the equivalent of threatening World peace, or created a tidal wave generator that swamped the Maldives.

"Look on the bright side," Violet patted Aya's shoulder. "You can't do worse."

"How does it feel to know you will be less productive than a child?" Fabiola taunted me.

"It is nothing new," I snickered. "After all, I've been working with you for a whole week." This insult was compounded by the other five girls snickering at the jest. Aya didn't get it and Katrina was undoubtedly laughing on the inside.

"I'm going to get you," Fabiola ground her teeth.

"Come on," I sighed to Fabiola, "it was a joke meant to give a little levity before charging off to your days."

"Well, don't mock me," Fabiola snapped.

"But it is so easy," Paula giggled. Fabiola turned on her.

"Enough," Katrina demanded gracefully. She handed out assignments and the group departed. Aya had my job from yesterday. She also had Katrina's Nerf gun. Seconds after the first incoming bolt, Aya decided she loved working at Havenstone. After my fellow Executive Services sisters discovered that I had a secondary gunner, they began to triple team us in true Amazon fashion.

Aya countered by building a fort using sofa cushions. She'd also scamper out and round up spent darts every time her work queue was filled. To change things up, and gain a lesson in simple tactics, Aya would move furniture around the office. When a woman, or women, would pop in to shoot me, Aya would shoot at them from an ambushing angle.

Honestly, for a warrior culture, these ladies were remarkably fooled by a pile of towels on Katrina's sofa - hiding a miniature sniper. Lunch came by way of Buffy and Dora. I had a feeling that Buffy was still stung by Daphne's betrayal. Watching Aya try to stare down Buffy was both amusing and a tad chilling. I was going to have to do something about her frustration.

After Katrina released us, I pleaded with Desiree to entertain her niece - Aya, while I went to grab a few drinks with 'the guys'. The club they chose screamed overly-pretentious, overly-privileged and insanely over-priced. I didn't have the Class Ring, or Mummy/Daddy's bank account to go to a place like this. I had a sudden unsettling feeling.

I double-checked my bank account. I had around two grand squirreled away when I got the job with Havenstone and I knew that cache had to be running dry. I checked it and I had over five grand. Unless banks had radically altered interest rates, somebody was propping me up financially. Barring a rich girlfriend, I had a rich girl friend. Every guy I knew and liked was as poor as me.

I hobbled in on my crutches, drawing some stares. No one called out, or recognized me, so the general snobbish assumption was that I was a person who didn't 'fit in'. A few more hobbles forward and the looks began to change. My suit was tailored, I was an impressive physical specimen and exuded a charisma that implied 'eminently fuckable'.

Felix, Trent and Brian were polite enough to turn my way though they didn't call out. They hadn't grabbed a side booth, or a place at the bar. No, we had a table sans chair in the middle of the place because I had a bum leg and crutches - sadistic fuck-nuts. My first introduction was almost comical.

"Hey, Jared, isn't it?" some stranger tapped my shoulder.

Did he know me? No. His current female work-in-progress had noticed me and kept noticing me so he was playing the humiliation game. Fake intro - 'shocked' I wasn't who he thought I was - the revelation I wasn't from a Top Ten school - belittle me to his potential lady.

"No, Jared was my brother," I sighed. "You didn't know? He died in a jet-ski accident three weeks ago. Where you two close?"

"Ah..." dumbass stuttered.

"I am sorry to hear about your loss," the girl spoke up. "Were you and your brother close?" She had a Columbia ring, three years back on a gold chain around her neck.

"He was my twin," I mumbled. I leaned against our table and turned away (masking my grief it could be assumed).

She left Dumbass' table and came over to mine. By the looks of my three buddies, they were floored. In less than one minute, I had my arm around a stacked, pretty redhead who was rubbing her hands over my chest. My plan crystalized. I had to let someone bump into me, grunt in pain then have this nice lady - Nicole - take me to the rest rooms.

Once in that back hallway, it was a stumble and a bump into a stall in the ladies room and a quick sexual encounter. A junior corporate lawyer named Stevenson provided the catalyst. He was more apologetic to Nicole, but she was getting angrily maternal over me, my pain and grief. She blew Stevenson off and helped me to the restroom area.

Of course, I was 'sure' I could take care of everything by myself. Two stumbles later, she was insisting she take me to the men's room. I argued with her rather firmly. She couldn't come with me. After all, there were usually only one or two stalls and I didn't want to embarrass her. Nicole's inspiration was to take me to the women's room where there were plenty of stalls.

I begged her to let me go into the stall alone - despite my obvious discomfort and agony. She overrode my concerns and joined me. She took off my pants, my cock sang out 'hallelujah' and Nicole was mesmerized. I told her I found her attractive and hadn't had sex in a while. Nicole began administering a blowjob.

There were no 'uh's and 'ah's. That would be selling it in the wrong direction. I went the other way. I gritted my teeth and made as little noise as possible. When she finally broke down and asked if what she was doing felt good. I hissed out a 'yes' then explained how I didn't want to embarrass her with my vocalizations.

The resulting victorious smile and follow-up question were foregone conclusions. 'Yes, I did have a condom'. The girl wasn't stupid. She didn't ask me if I wanted to have sex. I had her where I wanted her - wanting sex - and she knew I wanted her. Clothes were lain over the toilet seat - the floors looked clean but still - and we got down to business.

Once Nicole decided she wanted intercourse, I took over. I had her one knee on the toilet, one leg on the floor and both hands against the back of the stall wall while I thrust into her from behind. She was huffing like a steam locomotive as I was pistoning into her gushing depths. Unable to do cunnilingus this time, I continuously wedged two fingers into the tight intrusion of my cock pumping her pussy and pulled out two coated digits.

At first, I noisily sucked them clean. Nicole figured out what I was up to and wanted in on the action, licking her own vaginal fluids off my fingers. Her first climax had her hissing like a pit of vipers and beating one fist against the porcelain wall tiles.

In the interim, with a bit of friendly finger play, I had discovered Nicole was a fully accessible sex partner. I let my cock slowly withdraw, rubbing her vaginal walls in all the right places as I did. I was setting her up for the surprise. I pressed my large, pulsing cockhead against her sphincter and started pushing in sans preparation on her part.

"Too much?" I whispered. Yes it was. We both knew it. This was a sexual gauntlet I was tossing down. How vigorous was she willing to go? Nicole was a hard-charging, go-getter for who life was a series of challenges. My words weren't an act of compassion - they were a dare. She could back out, or she could take my sizable rod up her unprepared butthole.

"Don't hold anything back," she gasped. We twisted, turned our necks as far as possible and entered a deep, tongue twisting kiss. In the midst of that, I began pushing in. Nicole was no anal virgin; that was a certainty. Equally certain was the pain she was going through as I drove all the way down. Her rectum was stretched out, her hips and buttocks were trembling and she was sweating up a storm.

She was in pain and loving it. Not out of some masochistic fit, but because she'd confronted a personal test and triumphed. All the while, we remained lip-locked. I soaked up her moans of pleasure, groans of pain and the combination of both when I was done. Only when I completed her anal penetration, did I relax my pressure and let her adjust.

Nicole was the one who initiated picking up the pace. Again, I took over, upping our tempo until I was slamming into her rectum with all my might. Nicole was coming like glacial melt, tearing off huge chunks of her resolve every time she orgasmed. A few chicks peeked through the stall door to make sure I wasn't murdering her.

I filled up the condom in her ass, earning me one last caged squeal. Nicole really was a vocal treasure. She could really keep the noise down when needed. Four fucking orgasms in eleven minutes - I am a sex god. Nicole and I cleaned up. She couldn't stop smiling at me.

"I hope I've helped you deal with the loss of your brother," she purred as she snuggled against my chest.

"I'm an only child, Nicole. All that twin thing was for the Dick-head who was hitting on you and decided to make a mockery of me with the whole 'you went to a loser school' thing," I told her.

"Oh..." she digested that. Sexual aftershocks helped her decide she didn't care. They never do.

"Where did you go to school?" she asked as we finished cleaning up at the sink - with three other women.

"Bolingbrook in New Hampshire," I grinned. "I live in a small, five room apartment, with my roommate in lower-middle class neighborhood, I don't have a car - I have a bike."

"That's good because I absolutely love biking, on and off-road," I kept going. "I work at Havenstone Commercial Investments making a quarter million a year starting out plus a 'Gold level' benefits package. Mom's gone. My Dad is a working stiff, scoured by the elements most days, his sister works on a crab boat and that's my lineage. I'm Cáel Nyilas, by the way."

"Do you like picking up rich, successful women from well-heeled families?" Nicole and the other women blatantly listening in studied me.

"Normally you couldn't have dragged me into an establishment like this," I chuckled. "This isn't my crowd. Three of the new male hires at Havenstone invited me out for some after-work drinks and they chose this place."

"Is that the whole 'class warfare' thing?" one woman, African-American, accused me. Sigh.

"I'm far more concerned with labor and land rights riots in China, gender unrest in India, the rise of religious fundamentalism all around the globe and receding polar ice caps than the anemic class struggles going on inside the United States," I engaged her.

That shut them up.

"What about a Free Tibet?" an Asian cutie interjected. My bet was Myanmar.

"Go to a few rallies, buy a bumper sticker then pat yourself on the back and delude yourself that you are doing something," I shrugged.

"Inside 50 years you are looking at Tibetan cultural annihilation. It is a numbers game. Keep adding Han Chinese into the population and Tibet ceases to exist outside of a few history books," I explained. "If you want to make a difference, recruit up nine friends, gather a war chest of a million dollars and take six month of intensive weapons and arctic survival courses."

"Sneak over the border into Tibet. Attack Chinese settlers, firebomb Chinese-owned shops and ambush PLA patrols. Cross back over to Nepal for resupply and reinforcements. Create an insurgency large enough to gather real media and governmental attention," I told them. "Otherwise you are wasting everyone's time."

"Violence is not the answer," a blonde joined the fun. Yes, I can be standing in a women's rest room without drawing outrage. Nicole was hanging all over me.

"How about this: give me your purse so I can take all your money, your ATM card and your PIN number?" I requested of the blonde. She took a step back.

"Okay, I'm going to ask you for that again, and if you don't give it to me, I'll ask a third time," I continued and I did just that - asking a third time. "Congratulations, you have the China - Free Tibet debate. If there was any doubt," I pointed to the blonde, "you are China."

"It is not like that," the Blonde insisted.

"Why not? China is using Tibet as land to put their expanding population on that doesn't involve emigration - a reduction in the tax base," I reasoned. "Therefore, Tibet has value. You are offering nothing of value to the PRC, expecting them to give you something they value, for free? How rational is that?"

"That's crazy," Myanmar chick stated. "Nonviolent protest works."

"I agree," I nodded. "It needs to be truly passionate to achieve its ends." Translation: I didn't believe it worked, but clearly these babes believed in it and getting snitty about some belief system I didn't really care about wasn't going to get me into their panties.

Pleased that they had impressed their enlightened approach to life, the other women let Nicole help me struggle back to my table. We managed to exchange digits and for her to give me her business card - cool, she was a criminal defense attorney with a firm that had five names and Esquire attached to the end.

They also had offices here, in Los Angeles, Mexico City, Hong Kong, London and Berlin. Nicole deposited me back with my 'buddies' who had sprouted some girl pals in my absence. Introductions went around. Nicole did a wave, winked at me then went off to her own clique of pals. Seconds after she joined up, there were multiple lusty looks from her group aimed my way.

Not every lady is looking for a commitment. For some, a hook-up hits the spot and they were not particularly jealous about sharing in their adventures. Nicole was going to go home, a smile on her lips, take a nice hot bath and go to bed worry-free. Her company was envious and planning how to get their own piece of my unworthy hide.

Fucking Nicole into a transcendent state didn't earn me a place in their 'educational elites only' world. That wouldn't keep them out of my bed, only someone they wouldn't mention to their parents. I didn't care. I wouldn't care unless they became clingy. Then I would have to parade her friends and colleagues past her as sexual conquests until she got the message that turning a guy into her 'dirty little secret' was doubly unfortunate.

Mind you, having a pair of wandering eyes myself, I had never enforced monogamy on any girl I'd ever been with. Deep down I was always looking for 'the one', I assumed that my sex partners were too and I never held that against them for looking somewhere else when I was clearly not the one for them. My sense of fair play rarely translated over to understanding on their part.

Back to my little crowd. From the start, I know we were all freaking gorgeous men. We were also bright and well-educated (though the rest thought I was a bumpkin). Having ladies stop by was a veritable given. How we handled it was multifaceted.

Brain Fung was a 'one foot out the window' kind of guy. He led off with how engaged he was, how wonderful his fiancé was and finished up with how arranged the marriage was. See, this gave him an out with every women he scored with. He was engaged, yet he was unhappy with the arrangement so some lucky girl might convince him to re-chart his course.

It would never happen. Brian thought too much of himself to be romanced. Besides, he had a five, ten and twenty year plan. The Prick shouldn't have joined Havenstone. His fiancé was from a good family, educated (Stanford) and willing to knuckle under to her family to marry Brian so he could assume she would knuckle under to him too.

He was never going to leave that comfortable future for some sweet piece of tail he could pick up at a bar, or nightclub. Girls were nothing more than a release valve for his sexual frustrations and by the end of the encounter, the girl would know that was exactly how he felt. He was good-looking, wealthy and confident - he'd always find someone else.

Felix was of a different mold. He was a player. Unlike me, he was all about hash marks, conquests and stroking his ego. You couldn't totally blame him - Felix was a Winner - capital 'W'. Awards, work accomplishments and pretty women were all the same to him; an aggrandizement of the Felix Melena saga.

He'd hunt the wildlife of the city until he was thirty then marry an early twenty-something virgin. Virgin? He had to be the first and only man she ever knew. Felix would have no trouble naming names and bragging over all the details of a sexual encounter because the only thing that mattered was Felix, his successes and everybody being aware of just how bad-ass he was.

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