tagSci-Fi & FantasyLife as a New Hire Ch. 13

Life as a New Hire Ch. 13


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

*My editors have joined the French Foreign Legion to avoid unresolved US Federal Income Tax issues. God be with them*

*There is nothing wrong being a Lucky Bastard. It is wrong to rely on it*

(Monday later)

Buffy had finally dismissed me when Katrina summoned me to her office. Ignoring me getting into an altercation...in the Full-Blood gym...yet again, I had a good day. No property damage, lost items, or physically damaged employees. Ragged by most people's standards, but a good day for me at Havenstone. I still had a chance to walk out under my own power.

Katrina motioned me to come to her desk. Upon my arrival, she slid a tablet over to me with a single icon on the screen. I tapped it. Aya's face appeared as the vid-mail began. She was glowing. There was tent fabric in the background so I had no idea of her geographic location. I didn't care.

"Hey!" she squeaked. "I'm doing great at camp. I met three girls who are as small as me and we've formed our own squad -- the Fatal Squirts." I chuckled.

I had encouraged her to steal strength from her perceived weaknesses. She had to believe in herself then take that as she built up her skills. I had faith in her when no one else did.

"I showed some of my councilors a picture of you. I think you would get into trouble if you came here. I want you to come, but I thought it was only fair to warn my favorite bed-buddy," she giggled.

"Send me a message when you can. I understand there will be a delay as the messages have to be physically delivered. I know you are doing okay. If not, hold off your vengeance until I can return and guard your back. I love you, Cáel. Be well," she smiled as her picture faded into darkness.

"Ah damn," I whispered. Aya looked good -- confident, upbeat and spirited. "Katrina, can I make a message for her right now?" I begged.

"Of course," she gave me an approving tilt of the head. "I think the courier is still in the building."

"Cool. What do I do?" I urged.

"Use the webcam -- make a message and forward it to my computer," Katrina told me. "I'll take it from there." I made the message, pretty much updating her on my latest exploits with limited editing. Aya was a surprisingly innocent yet worldly 9 year old.

Much of that came from being Katrina's and Desiree's niece -- mainly Katrina's. It gave her access to tidbits of sensitive data from time to time. Not so much she was a real security threat. Enough so that she got some things confused -- like what sex was truly about. I felt in my soul she'd be a great Amazon one day. I didn't remind her of that much. She had enough pressure for a kid her age.

"You are seeing Oneida now?" a frosty voice unnerved me. It was Buffy.

"Fuck," I jumped up. "Damn Buffy, stop sneaking up on me like that, or I'm going to start thinking you are a stalker."

"I am stalking you, Einstein," Buffy menaced.

"I'm glad we got that out of the way," I rolled my eyes. "Oh look! It's Daphne coming to my rescue. I am so out of here," I exulted. I edged passed Buffy, slipped her attempt to grab my arm and raced for the 'new hires' at the elevator.

"Get back here, you Cock-sucker!" Buffy howled as she chased me down.

May miracles never cease. Daphne, Violet and Tigger formed an Amazon (I wasn't sure if I could consider them 'human' yet) shield between my frail form and the hulking brute that was Buffy.

"Calm down, Buffy," Daphne pleaded. "He fought Elsa today -- again."

"Get out of my way," Buffy snarled.

"Thank God you stopped her," I huffed to Dora. "I hope to she never finds out that I soaped up Elsa's entire body while we were sharing a shower together." Daphne turned and gave me an incredulous look.

"Cáel, you are a Dumb-ass," Daphne sighed. Looking to Buffy as she stood aside. "Have at."

"Are you mental?" Fabiola chimed in. The elevator doors finally opened, Buffy shoved me in and the rest of the posse followed. Helena joined us at the last second.

"He's taunting me," Buffy responded to Fabiola while using her middle finger to poke my chest. "At this rate I am going to have to devastate a dozen male escorts so I can make it the remaining the 69 more days until he's mine again."

"Is he really that good?" Paula wondered. Buffy twisted around to confront her.

"He hammered me so hard, I thought he'd dislocate my hips. Later, we spent an entire hour, naked, wrapped up in each other's bodies with no actual penetration -- touching, tasting and whispered affections," Buffy curled her lip. "He's better than you could possibly imagine."

"You realize we have 27 seconds left, right?" I reminded Buffy.

"Really?" Buffy's head snapped back to me. I nodded and she jumped my bones. She had her hand down my pants, pulling on my rod, and the other grabbing the back of my head to deepen our kiss.

For my part, I had my left hand on her breast and the right down the back of her pants, fondling a panty-covered ass cheek. In a culture where you summoned a male, ordered him to perform and he did so the same exact way he'd done a dozen times before, what Buffy and I were doing didn't make sense.

The two of us didn't give up an ounce of control yet meshed perfectly. Our pleasure was obvious, vocal and we didn't give a damn about the crowd around us. Buffy and I had created our own little lust-bubble. The chimer went off. We settled down and straightened up our clothes.

"Fuck it all -- that's some good dicking," Buffy mumbled. That was an inside joke between me, Timothy, my big, gay, buff tattoo-artist roommate, and the few women he chose to share that descriptive with -- 'a good dicking'. We tumbled out of the elevator.

"Is he always like that?" Fabiola mumbled.

"He's a whole lot better with his clothes off," Buffy sneered at Fabiola. Sometimes I'm a super-selfish bastard; I want life to cut me some slack. Waiting for us was Oneida...in biker clothing. That would have merely been bad, dangerous and creepy except I was dressed in work clothes.

I was planning to meet some of the guys (all two of them) for some after-work drinks. The encounter went from not-good to horribly awkward. Oneida had checked up on me, been told how I got to and from work as well as when I left. Unfortunately, she hadn't checked my social calendar -- mainly because I didn't keep one -- sophomore year mistake.

If a girl is in your apartment, she will find the thing you don't want her to find...every single time. I burned my diary and unfriended everybody after that final, hospital-resulting episode.

"Hi," I greeted Oneida. She'd figured out she'd screwed up something fierce. "What bike do you use? I have a Specialized STSE hybrid. Maybe we can use some paths one weekend."

I was trying to diffuse her embarrassment. We were two bikers talking about bikes. Nothing wrong with that.

"I have a Specialized Source..." she got out then realized how BAD that sounded. She had the exact same bike as me...how bizarre? Unless you had somebody come down and take a look at what I bicycle I used.

Time to save the day.

"Do you want to make a date for 6:30 am on Saturday?" I suggested. "Provided this wacky place hasn't offed, or misplaced me by then."

"Ah -- that would be nice," Oneida rebounded happily. "The date, that is."

"Whoa Oneida, what are you doing with this guy?" Brian derided me as he walked up. I wanted to say, 'Brian, you've insulted a princess of the Amazon people. Please continue making an ass of yourself and give Trent and Khalid my regards'. I didn't.

"This is Cáel Nyilas. He's a real player," Brian smirked. "You can do better than him."

Oh yeah, Oneida and Brian were co-workers -- 'new hires' in Acquisitions.

"Brian, it took you three days to even use my name," Oneida gave Brian a neutral stare. "I love Cáel. He saved my life and he sees the real me." For the love of all that's holy, someone shoot me in the head right now. I could hear the nearly subsonic growls emanating from Buffy.

Brian looked at me, laughed and went to put an arm around Oneida's shoulder. After all, if I could pick her up, it should be effortless for him to take her away, right? Dumb-shit. Laughing at me was okay. Laughing at...then I noticed the two chicks in black leather standing about doing their best (until a second ago) to go unnoticed.

Cáel had gotten away with such familiarity because Cáel had risked his life to save their Princess. Brian Fung? He barely knew her name and they worked together. These weren't even SD chicks -- they were something else. My guess was Arinniti House Guard. Did Katrina's House Epona have a house guard?

Sure, I imagine they did. They were probably with the rest of House Epona where ever they lived. It wasn't like the whole kit and caboodle was here in NYC. That would have been foolish. If Caitlyn, Aya's mom, had a security issue, she called us at Havenstone HQ, less than four kilometers away. Without a doubt, Elsa would stop by and kick ass for her.

I gave Brian this much -- he had a working set of eyes. The second those two harbingers of death began closing in, Brian back-pedaled.

"Hey Brian, let's go grab some drinks," I offered him a graceful exit.

"Sounds good," Brian tried to sound cool.

"Oneida, take care," I nodded to my new romantic stalker. "Ladies," to my 'new hire' crew. "Buffy," to my sometimes boss, "remember you are still hot for a...mature chick."

"You are going die a long, torturous and extremely painful death," Buffy sizzled.

"What? Are you going to make me eat your cooking?" I laughed.

Buffy didn't articulate a counter before Brian and I slipped outside.

"Cáel, who was that woman?" Brian whispered.

"Which one? You need to be more specific. My erotic malfeasances are terribly confusing."

"The one you insulted," Brian said. "The last one you insulted," he clarified.

"Buffy. She's one of my bosses," I grinned. "She loves me. She's even promised to play the bagpipes at my funeral. Personally I think that's because she doesn't want to risk anyone hearing me pounding on the coffin lid, trying to get out."

"You are not going to make it the full 84 days with that attitude," Brian lectured me.

"Trent has already been promoted," Brian continued. "I am regularly referred to as indispensable in my work reviews. Felix works closely with Ms. Pharos at all times. You seem to be the only one of us having...issues with Havenstone. Hell, they even shot you and you sat back and took it. I doubt your complacent attitude impressed anyone much."

No mention of poor Khalid. How quickly they forget. Trent had been 'promoted' to Southeast Asia alright. I looked it up; there are around 10,000 islands between Indonesia and the Philippines. Sure some were small spits of land with a few trees. I had little doubt one of the good-sized one was a jungle of a different sort.

Certainly Executive Services sent Trent's belongings somewhere. I'd never tried to find out. What would I have done with the knowledge? Brooke didn't care and I didn't know his family. Brian and I went to the same yuppie bar as last time. I was with Brian this time, so I abandoned him as quick as I could.

Why? At the far end of the bar, talking the bar-back was my Delivery Girl -- aka the person who did the home liquor delivery to Libra's place. Half way down the bar, she sensed me looking at her. The bar-back followed her gaze. He wasn't happy with me. DG simply didn't recognize me so I held up my valise over my groin.

Confusion -- surprise -- acknowledgment that despite our surroundings, I wasn't worried about being seen with her. She had her hand truck -- she had to make a front door delivery this time.

"Remember me?" I smiled.

"Cáel Nyilas -- the Pillow Guy," she snickered. "How did that work out for you?"

The bar-back was broadcasting his displeasure at some upper class smuck cutting in on his action. DG caught that.

"Jason, this is Cáel," she introduced me. "We last met under unusual circumstances."

"What kind of name is Cáel?" Jason remarked.

"An unfortunate one," I snorted. "You try explaining to your kindergarten teacher that it is 'c-a (acute accent)-e-l'. Of course, I wasn't 'Bomophoto' either. She had it worse than I did."

Jason searched me out to see if I was pulling one over on him. I wasn't. Bomo and I bonded over our linguistic misfortune. She moved to Santa Fe in the third grade. I wonder if she grew up to be hot looking. Oink.

"I'll give you that," he chuckled. "Why did you get branded?"

"Mom was Irish, my Dad was in love with her so I got the cultural emersion, minus the Guinness," I shrugged. "By the way..." I looked back to the lady.

"Katy Lee Baker," she batted her eyelashes. We shook hands.

"How did it go?" I picked up her question. "Sex, chopped fruit, your drinks, more sex and back to the clinic before eleven."

"Have you talked to them since?" Katy inquired somewhat seductively.

"Perhaps. I don't like to kiss and tell," I evaded.

"I'm curious because two of the three arrived five minutes before you did and they appear somewhat unhappy with you right now," she smirked. "You can look over your shoulder if you don't believe me." Sure enough, there was Felix, Brian, Brooke, Libra and...I think her name was Gene. I waved then turned back to my current two conversationalists.

"So Jason, what do you like to do?" I asked the guy.

"Huh -- what? I work," he replied.

"I mean bike, try ethnic food, go to the gym -- stuff like that," I teased him.

"I work six days a week...but usually one or two are afternoon shifts. Me and some buddies play some pick-up basketball," Jason told me.

"Great. You'd pick a sport I suck at," I set the bait. If Jason thought I sucked, he'd invite me to play. That's how it worked. I was pretty good at basketball considering I'd spent the last four years playing with girls -- on the court. Girls play some mean ball. They also didn't shy away from putting an elbow into my nuts if they felt like it.

"I'm not sure I live in a neighborhood you'd be comfortable visiting," Jason threw up a roadblock. I had him on this one. I showed him my ID. It had the right address -- wrong apartment number. "Shit dude, that place is about as rough as my home turf."

"I get paid a quarter million a year to taste test for hexafluoride in Chinese imports," I joked.

"Really?" Katy chuckled.

"It's a growth industry -- if you consider tumors to be growth," I was faux-serious.

"Mr. - Cáel," Jason looked over my shoulder. "I think one of those chicks is about to come over here and kill you. You best hop to it."

"Which one? The brunette, or the russet-colored (Libra)?" I inquired.

"The brunette wants attention and the russet wants to push a red hot poker up your ass," Jason gave me his experienced opinion. Heading over there was going to be 'fun'.

"Give me a call some time, Jason. Nice to see you again, Katy Lee," I waved good-bye.

"You know the staff here?" Libra spat.

"That was the girl who delivered the liquor to your place, Libra," I sighed. "I said 'hi'."

"It takes you an awful lot of words to say 'hello'," Brian gave a false smile. Libra was positioned next to Brian. Her anger with me plus his 'sexy' put her there.

Brooke shifted as I joined their chair-less center table. She was putting enough distance between us to show everyone she was independent yet close enough to give warning signs to other woman that I was in her sights, if not her outright possession. I was better looking than Brooke had counted on. More 'fun' was coming down the pipeline.

Gene was here on another date with Felix, or so she thought. Poor Gene. Felix was most likely an excellent fuck. What she didn't appreciate was that Felix was not only a competitor, he was the kind of athlete who had to win. Second place was what you called the first loser. Gene was about to be educated in this personal idiocentricity.

Now that I was on stage, Felix made his move on Brooke. Gene? He'd let her in on a three-way if he was feeling personally Hernán Cortés-like. Felix had to have Brooke. I hadn't dumped Brooke, according to Gene, so he wasn't getting my castoffs -- he was stealing my prize. The flaw in this plan was my whole viewpoint on monogamy. I didn't much care for it. Brooke was a grown woman and could make her own choices.

Felix made his move. Damn, he was smooth. He had Brooke wrapped up and pulled tight without Gene even being aware she'd been dumped. Enter the train wreck named Nicole. She was the criminal defense attorney who I'd fucked in a stall in the women's bathroom of this place. She hadn't tried to contact me and I hadn't worried about her. Hook-ups were like that.

She'd been close by, respecting Brooke's signs and not stopping by to say hello. Then Felix launched his master plan and I was suddenly freed up. Nicole had gotten a rough fucking and liked it, I could tell.

"Cáel Nyilas," Nicole swooped in. "How have you been?"

"The normal. Menace to society, disrespectful of authority and being annoying to random strangers," I teased. "You?"

"I'm a lawyer fighting the irresistible lure of evil. The usual," she joked back. "What have you been doing wrong? As I recall, last time you were doing everything right?"

Yes, a good dicking indeed. I was going to relate this encounter to Timothy just so he could shoot me with his Nerf gun. He'd shoot me anyway, but it was nice of me to give him an excuse from time to time.

"I've been sending sexually suggestive letters to ADA Feinstein," I offered. "Does that count?"

"Oh really?" she seemed surprised. "Why don't you come by my table real quick and let me introduce you to some of my colleagues." I wasn't going to be rude.

"Gang, this is Nicole," I introduced her to my table. "She's an attorney at a prestigious law firm that probably has more dead partners than living ones and offices in Papua New Guinea and a few dozen other places you've never heard of. I'll be right back."

"You are a nut," Nicole bumped me as we weaved our way to her buddies. "Ladies, this is Cáel Nyilas. I think I mentioned him once." By the looks on their faces, once had been enough. "This is Zelda, Marsha, Phyllis, and Rivka -- Rivka Feinstein, ADA for New York County," (that's Manhattan for us hicks).

"Ah crap," I exclaimed. That wasn't what they expected.

"I confess," I looked at Nicole, "I saw the name in an article on the back of the Village Voice. Sadly, they had R. Feinstein and I stupidly assumed it was a guy."

"Oh my God! You're gay?" Zelda and Phyllis despaired.

"While my life would a whole lot easier if I was, I'm straight -- not even bi-curious. My roommate, Timothy -- never Tim -- is and he was reading it while I was working out. It sort of stuck in my mind," I admitted.

"How did my name come up in conversation?" Rivka inquired.

"Cáel is a pathological liar," Nicole teased me.

"Not true," I protested. "I'm allergic to excessive honesty. That's totally different."

"I'd like to put you on the witness stand," Zelda gave me those bedroom eyes.

"You and about a 150 other women," I groaned.

"150?" Rivka choked.

"Yep. The rest already know I'm guilty," I muttered.

"Are you of weak moral fiber?" Phyllis joined the game. We were all having a blast.

"Sorry, but no. I'm saving up for some. Currently I'm without morals...or scruples. Any suggestion which one I should purchase first?"

"You are a great guy," Rivka snickered. "Why aren't you dating somebody?"

"Shall we revisit my lack of morals and scruples?" I answered.

"So you are a player?" Nicole nudged me. She wanted to play alright.

"How to put this...I'm a wonderful lover and a lousy boyfriend," I told them.

"I was an eighteen year old virgin. In the past four years, I have betrayed every woman I've ever dated, save one -- my first love," I explained.

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