Life as a New Hire Ch. 15

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"No!" Yasmin protested. "That's where I draw the line. Cáel keeps his tender bits."

"Mmmhphmfsmmm," I added my voice against that proposal. To punish Sammy for even bringing that up, I latched onto a breast like a starving lamprey and went to town. Damn right that put her in her place. Fifteen minute later, she finally let me come up for air.

Ten minutes after that, we stumbled out of the apartment. I was going to see Yasmin safely home - she snickered then, seeing my hurt feelings, told me I was very brave and could take her home. Evie and Sammy lived close by. They had known Timothy from his days working at an ink place in Queens, but had lost touch when he opened his own place on the East Side.

They promised to stay in touch. Sometimes I don't even have to try. Maybe that's why Timothy got so pissy with me at times. As for Yasmin and me, I fucked her in the hallway right outside her domicile because she still had twenty minutes left on her babysitter and there was a convenient vertical surface. We both went home with smiles on our faces.

I met up with Odette walking up to my - now our - place. She wanted all the juicy details, helped me change our sheets, promised to do our laundry tomorrow morning and then we had sex. I was set up on my feet, shins and knees, Odette facing away from me and grinding her lush tight end on my rod when the door opened and Timothy Nerf-shot me...cause I definitely deserved it.

(Thursday)

Thursday was good. I inspected artificial wood products for artificial termites. Actually, I started out with Constanza - really Naomi and her Merry Band now - and learned how to actually fire a personal defense weapon. No more 'spray and pray' for me. They told me they had a special surprise for me on Friday. Color me concerned.

According to Medical, I was a lousy lab monkey. Then Katrina informed me it was Brian's turn today to get poked, prodded and forced to cough up millions of little Brian-lettes for Havenstone's perverse pleasures. I e-mailed Brian my best wishes. I was seriously starting to question those 'so-called' medical experts ethical integrity.

I worked with Buffy, teamed up with the Daphne/Desiree combo. Why? Because there was an emergency board meeting on Friday. I wasn't told this, but Daphne and I figured it out. To put some extra butter on my hell-bound soul, an agent of Rhada's gave me a private note informing me she wanted to talk.

Keeping to Amazon Princess Rape Fantasy Bondage protocols, I ate the message before Buffy could pry it from my hands. Bad enough was all these crazy females trying to kill me, I also had to keep track of which ones hated the other ones. It reminded me of dating sorority sisters, except this time out, I could never leave the sorority house and they almost never went to classes.

Oh, and they are all related to Jason Voorhees (that's the maniac from the Friday the 13th movies for those who had lived constructive lives) and we were adjacent to an Ace Hardware store. Plus I had a date with Libra and I was dedicated to 'tapping that ass' at least once more before I died. And, there was more!

Deena, the swimming, 'fingers in her pussy' buddy dropped me a line telling me she was 'expecting' me this afternoon. There was no way I could swing that, despite her request that could be only construed as an order. I simply didn't have the time. I e-mailed her back, pleading for her to be in a bikini with several suggested sites for her to visit.

Before my designated knife training, I had a fucked-up brainstorm about what to do with Rhada. I wrote a letter in Old Kingdom Hittite, sealed it in wax with the imprint of the symbol 'Lowest' on it, representing me, though Rhada's submissive side could easily misinterpret that. To get it to her, I went to the only one who could meet her face to face who I could trust.

Katrina? Laughable. She could do it but she wouldn't touch this disaster with a three meter pole made out of male vertebrae. The only other person who met all the criteria - Oneida. Yes, I was a fucktard, fuck-nut and a waste of human potential.

"Oneida, I need a favor," I asked the moment I hunted her down in Acquisitions.

"Of course," her eyes lit up, her lips moistened and breathe quickened. She wasn't wanting a quick tussle in a side room. The chick wanted to be held closely while I whispered love poetry into her ear for her to hear alone. I was letting her down abysmally.

"I need this message hand delivered to Rhada," I pressed the missive into her hands.

She didn't know how to wrap her mind around that. Rhada? She knew we had fought, but what contact had we shared since then? She made the sane 'girl-logic' assumption.

"Cáel, are you in trouble," she worried. Oh, I wish it was only trouble.

"Not that you can help me with. If you can't do this, I'll find another way," I sighed.

Yes, I was playing her. Oneida would run over hot coals for me.

"No, no - I'll do it...why? Why Rhada?" Oneida pleaded.

"I can't say and you cannot look at the message. It is critical that she, and she alone sees this," I impressed on her the importance of saving my life without saying 'please save my life'.

By asking her to not look at the message, I increased the odds she'd look. I had no choice. If I didn't say anything about it, she'd make an excuse to look and tell herself that I hadn't forbidden her to look. Add to that, she was my racial superior. In her case, this meant she had to look out for my best interest. Oneida nodded and watched me leave.

Training with Pamela was hands on this day. I had a wooden blade with a lead core to give me a better feel for the proper weight. Pamela had a meter long wooden rod. She had a miraculous ability to move her baton in a blur yet not hurt my fingers, hand, or wrist. It was very instructional. I was practicing stabbing and a bit of slashing.

I left with a sense I'd added something useful to my repertoire. I wasn't calling out Elsa anytime soon - heck, I wasn't calling out Europa, Aya's 13 year old sister either. As we were cleaning up, Pamela noticed my uncertainty.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Oh, it is that you've resisted the urge to cause me pain," I mused. "Normally, I find Amazons to be very harsh."

"That is certainly a common training style here," Pamela nodded. "I chose showing a student how to do things right as opposed to reminding the student what they did wrong."

"Good enough. Thanks for treating me like I matter," I grinned.

"What makes you think that?" Pamela and I started to leave the little dojo. Note, she didn't say 'assume'.

"Trust me, I'm a sperm donor with sex appeal to virtually every other screwy dame in this place," I smirked.

"I know the difference between what I see in their eyes and yours," I winked.

"Ash Man," Pamela remarked. She zinged me, alright. "My granddaughters talk of you and not in a way I would expect Amazon women to talk about a male."

"That and an Egg McMuffin..." I shrugged.

"Means you won't die hungry," Pamela shrugged along with me. "This is why I volunteered to teach you; you deserve every chance to go out unconquered."

"Do you think I have a chance - of that?" I questioned.

"Not really. I didn't think I would ever be talking to a man in my native language again either, so who knows," she added.

"Do you think I'm an Ash Man?" I wondered. Male - OKH - again?

"I haven't a clue what one is," she rolled her shoulders. "I am neither my House Leader, nor its Keeper of Records."

"Oh...what are you then?" I asked. The response she gave didn't make sense.

"Cliff-walker? I don't know..." I furrowed my brow.

"I am past my useful life yet refuse to take myself to the cliffs," Pamela told me. "I have unfinished business to attend to in this World."

"What is that - if that isn't too rude?" I inquired.

"A dead man spoke to me. He told me I would never find my way to the halls of my ancestors until I replaced a life for a life," she related.

"That's - ummm - odd," I suggested.

"Cáel, I severed his throat to the spine. Even had he somehow been alive, he could not have spoken. Then there is the matter of speaking the Amazon tongue," Pamela continued.

"Did he tell you anything else?" I played along.

"No."

"How will you know what life you should save - to replace a life for a life?" I searched her out.

"He had the most unforgettable emerald green eyes," she filled me in. Just like my eyes.

We had stepped into the elevator when she told me that. There were five other Amazons with us. I didn't know any of them. I reached out and put my hand on Pamela's stomach.

"Whatever happens to me, and I don't want you to die, or anything - I want you to know you've done what needed to be done," I assured her.

Pamela's laugh was so loud, deep and resounding, I was stunned that it came from such a thin frame.

"That, my friend, is what being an Amazon is all about," Pamela slapped my back. What she said was wrong in so many ways and the Amazons around us knew it.

I wasn't an Amazon and equating me to one of them was insulting to their feminine martial ardor. Also, no Amazon had ever called me a friend and meant it in a non-sexual manner. Things were getting uncomfortable.

"Matron," one of the Amazons spoke up, "are you feeling well?"

That was a polite way of saying 'have you lost your mind?'

"Do you know why there are twenty 'First' Houses?" Pamela addressed me and ignored the others.

"Not really. It wasn't in the Havenstone Handbook," I tried to sound innocently curious.

"The first Amazon to escape capture came back for the rest," Pamela related. "She was free and if she was recaptured she would have certainly been raped again and most likely killed. She came back because no risk is too great for one's family. Like the first of the Unconquered, you risk everything for the spiritual and physical safety of your sisters."

"He is not one of us!" a different Amazon insisted.

"How bizarre that none of these crazy bitches can see it," Pamela smiled.

"Who are you again?" I gave Pamela a worried look.

"A discarded heroine, Cáel," Pamela answered. "I am an embarrassment, an anachronism and an arrogant warrior humbled."

Clearly this was part of Havenstone's history I wasn't supposed to be privileged to hear.

"You don't date much, do you?" I changed things up. Pamela snorted. "This whole scarred scholar-warrior with a tragic past works better with your moping, 19th century literature-reading college types. Cavemen like me prefer slinky clothing and feigned idiocy."

"I'll keep that in mind," Pamela snickered. By the bug-eyed expression of our fellow travelers, Pamela was indeed some kind of heroic figure. She held no position, but her status was undeniable. "How about this: I will forgo taking myself to the cliffs until you give me my first great-granddaughter."

"As long as we agree that I'm never going without a condom for the next five years," I counter-offered. "By the way, which two am I going to be surreptitiously avoiding?"

"Brielle and Daphne," Pamela appeared amused with my expression.

"Holy crap!" I exclaimed. "I really like those two. This is going to be tougher keeping you alive than I thought."

"How many more days?" Pamela teased.

"67," I groaned as we stepped out onto the Executive Services floor. Technically, I had an hour left of my work-day.

"Look on the bright side, our first great-grandchild could be a Son," Pamela joked.

Pamela clearly enjoyed 'freaking out' the Normals - the normal Amazon population that is.

"That would truly suck," I remarked. "You ladies have zero experience with male names and no boy of mine is going to be named Shirley. Picking the baby boy names is going to be all on me."

"How about Augustus?" Pamela suggested. I looked stunned.

Buffy, having heard my voice, hopped up from her station and came blazing my way. I hadn't done a damn thing wrong yet she was angry with me. She didn't know Pamela and I hoped to hell I wasn't hitting on...okay, Pamela was a bit odd-looking. I'd still do her.

"Cáel," Buffy snapped. "What is going on? Don't you have a job to do - with me?"

"Buffy, this is Pamela. She's my knife instructor," I said. "Pamela, this is Buffy DuBois, my '****'." Literally in Old Kingdom Hittite that meant 'mountaintop'. Pamela clearly got the implication. Buffy's fury about me slipping into OKH was mitigated by Pamela's appraising look.

"Okay," Buffy grumbled. "What was that?"

"Pinnacle, peak, highest point, mountaintop," Pamela answered for me. "I would wager it is a term of endearment and praise, but feel free to be offended despite him using the word for my benefit as opposed to yours. He might have incorrectly thought you knew how much he cared for you."

Verbal beat down!

"Who are you, anyway?" Buffy struggled to be polite.

"Pamela Pile," my instructor stated. "I am not employed by Havenstone anymore."

"That's not...possible..." Buffy questioned.

"She is Brielle's and Daphne's Grandmother, Buffy," I explained.

"That's nice," Buffy was less than impressed.

"Cáel, take care. Buffy, I know nothing of men, but I know camaraderie and I know you can throw that away as quickly as you earned it," Pamela gave an even stare.

"By the way, Pamela, you clearly have never been a kid on a playground," I joked. Buffy was irritated while Pamela was amused. "With a name like Augustus, he's either going to toughen up really fast, or get flattened. Trust me. My name was Cáel aka Cabbage Head all through elementary school."

"What did they call you in...middle school? It is middle school, correct?" Pamela inquired.

"Yes - middle school. By 6th grade, I was firmly a 'nobody'," I enlightened her. "Hell, my teachers could barely recall who I was. I stayed that way until I graduated high school."

"I had asthma as a child," Pamela related. "I barely made it through my 12th year."

"What did you do when you...is the term 'casted', or 'choosing a caste?" I posed.

"It varies. Sometimes we choose and sometimes the caste chooses us," Pamela answered. "I ended up here, in what is now known as Executive Services."

"Great," I grinned. "I bet you were enticed by our intensive training in marshmallow juggling. Am I right?"

"Not really," Pamela grew serious. "I came here so I could build obstacle courses for kittens. It is an unappreciated melding of animal conditioning and engineering." I was really liking Pamela. She was like a kindred spirit in this madhouse.

"Speaking of 'animal conditioning', Cáel, we need to get to work," Buffy huffed and off I went.

We finished up, had our after-work meeting and began to head-out for the day.

"Daphne, I met your grandmother - nice lady," I told my 'new hire' buddy.

"Really, what was she doing here?" Daphne smiled affectionately. I need to wear a dead rat around my neck - the deader the better.

"She is teaching me how to knife fight," I told her. Her not knowing that was odd.

"Oh...I didn't know she did that," Daphne frowned.

"She worked in Executive Services," I said. That appeared news to Daphne as well. "I thought that was why you joined."

"Katrina," Daphne looked to our boss, "was my grandmother in the '****' service?" That word roughly meant 'darkness of night' in OKH, but like so many things in a 'dead' language, interpretation could be sketchy.

"She was before my time," Katrina nodded. "I do recall her legacy though."

"What did she do? Normally I wouldn't care, except Pamela is a laugh riot," I smirked.

"She was the most lethal Amazon assassin of the 20th century," Katrina stated deadpan.

"Grans?" Daphne gasped. "She's always been so odd - I mean nice."

"What happened to her?" I muttered.

"I don't know," Katrina mused. "She came back from her last mission then took herself to the cliffs. A few weeks later she returned with no explanation for that either."

"Well crap," I groaned. "She's never going to forgive me for that 'wet willy' (getting a fingertip slick with your saliva then sticking it in an opponent's ear). I'm a goner."

Daphne play-punched me. We all heard the subsonic rumbling from the door. According to Buffy, she was the only one allowed to cause me physical discomfort and resented Daphne horning in on 'her turf'. Buffy had a new weapon in her arsenal this afternoon.

"Your '****' wants you to come here," Buffy snapped.

Even Katrina looked at her in some confusion.

"I was told that was a good thing," Buffy sizzled.

"It most likely interpreted as 'most prized', or 'most esteemed'," Tigger translated. "Precisely it means 'mountaintop'." Buffy stuck out her chin proudly.

"Cáel, I believe I made my desire clear," she commanded.

"No can do McGiggles Sissy-pants," I grimaced, "I have a date tonight that precludes me from me being overly bruised - again." I was heading for the door, leading the 'new hires' out of Katrina's office.

"I know you like laugh at death, Cáel," Dora snickered, "but I'm not sure the rictus of death counts."

"I've got that covered, Dora," I actually brushed up against Buffy. "I'm having a laugh track installed in my urn."

"Who says they'll ever find your body?" Buffy moved rapidly at my side.

"Whoa...cannibalism. Where I come from, normally the guy eats the girl," I joked. "With you, Buffy, I'm never quite certain of our gender roles. I'm still terrified of letting you snuggle up from behind."

"I hate you," Buffy growled. She wasn't upset. Her eyes were dancing with laughter.

"What are you going to do when he is relocated?" Fabiola murdered the mood.

"Blame you," Buffy glared at Fabiola.

"I'm so scared," Fabiola mocked Buffy.

"Fabiola, don't be like that," I moped. "You have such full, plump lips that clearly know how to take hold of a problem and work it through. Your thighs are the product of diligent effort on your part and I'm sure that when you grapple with an opponent, no one can break that fearful hold."

"I'm sure anything your hands touch, you don't release until you've milked every ounce of life out of your target. You are truly a complete woman," I concluded. The elevator doors opened and we flooded out. Oneida was waiting for me. Buffy began laughing so hard she couldn't keep up.

"What is it?" Oneida looked to Buffy.

"That is the most obtuse description of fellatio, fucking and a hand job I've ever heard," Buffy wheezed. "Fabiola, he called you a whore and you can never prove it." Okay, I didn't call her a whore - money was never mentioned. Oneida looked distressed.

"Oneida, Fabiola insinuated that Cáel would be relocated soon," Daphne came to the rescue. I still had something to take care of.

"I knew I forgot something," I realized. "Buffy, can you hold my jacket?" I handed it to her. She examined it then dropped it to the ground. I shrugged then kept stripping.

"Cáel?" Oneida worried.

"I don't have my biking clothes on," I pointed out. "We can't go biking unless I'm dressed in my biking clothes." Was Oneida still upset about me stripping in public? No. She was about to spend time with me because she mistakenly perceived me to be a good guy.

My bike trip with Oneida to a neutral halfway point proved that while Oneida was in good shape, she wasn't a cyclist. Cycling emphasized an unusual muscle sequence, so if you don't cycle much, it shows. I stuck close to her. Not only did it endear me to Oneida, it kept our two shadows at a safe distance so they didn't impinge on their princess's joyful mood.

I sent Oneida on her way, got home and immediately started making adjustments to my night's plans. First I had to deal with Libra. I got into an argument with her. I insisted she should wear only jeans, a t-shirt with no bra, and comfortable shoes. Libra was furious. She wanted to go clubbing and look hot - preferably enticing some guys to make me jealous.

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