Loneliest Man Who Ever Lived Ch. 15

The Loneliest Man Who Ever Lived

by Gary L.M. Martin

[Note: This is a romance story with some erotic scenes. It is not a story with erotic scenes in every chapter. Some chapters have incredible sex scenes, but many others have none.]

Chapter 15: John Connor

"You always taken me to the most wonderful places," Goldie beamed, as they got out of the airport in Maui, Hawaii. "Except the time we went to the ghetto in Philadelphia. We won't talk about that."

It was three days since she had rejoined forces with Harry. They had been on the run again, living in hotel rooms. Things were back the way they were with Harry, sort of. He was affectionate to her, kissing and hugging her, but he wouldn't make love to her. She got the feeling that Harry inevitably felt that she was going to leave him again, either for another man, or as a result of being deprogrammed. She knew that Harry had been terribly hurt by women throughout his life, but she very much wanted to restore the bond they had between them.

He wanted her, she could see it in his eyes. They had camped out in Manhattan, in a luxury hotel, planning their next move. As they swam in the indoor hotel swimming pool, Goldie could see Harry's eyes on her body, on her breasts, on her ass. And when she changed clothes in the hotel room, Harry's eyes widened as he saw her naked breasts, and her furry bush, which she wasn't shy about flaunting in front of him.

But so far he hadn't taken her at night, and Goldie hadn't pushed the point. The whole episode with Greg had been traumatic for him, but then Goldie had been traumatized by the episode with Jerri. After all, she had been forced to watch (and even participate!) as Harry fucked another woman. For all Goldie knew, Jerri could be walking around with Harry's baby in her belly at this very moment. But Goldie didn't dwell on it.

Harry had gotten a lead on one of the names from The Foundation's "People of Interest" list. It was a man named Harry Daystrom. Another Harry! They made contact with him via text messaging, and found he was here, on Maui. They had made plans to meet.

Harry rightly feared it could be another trap, and wanted Goldie to stay behind. She refused, and so here they were. A private car picked them up at the airport.

"This Mr. Daystrom must be quite wealthy," said Goldie.

"You are going to the estate of John Connor," said the driver.

"John Connor?"

"I was instructed to tell you that Mr. Daystrom is residing there," said the driver.

Harry and Goldie looked at each other. Could this be another trap?

*******

They drove for more than an hour to a remote estate in the jungles of Maui. As they passed through the entrance, they saw a tall fence surrounding the entire property.

"That's a big fence," said Harry nervously.

"Electrified," said the driver. "We're pretty far into the wilds here. We need to keep the predators out."

They arrived at a large mansion. A butler escorted them to a drawing room. A brown haired man in his 40's wearing elegant clothes greeted them.

"Mr. Daystrom?" Harry asked, as he shook his hand.

"Afraid not. I'm John Connor," said the man, turning to Goldie. But instead of shaking her hand, he kissed it. Goldie was charmed, but Harry looked crossly at him.

"Where is Harry Daystrom?" Harry asked.

"I'm afraid Mr. Daystrom is no longer with us," said John Connor.

"But he sent us several messages-"

"That was him, Harry," said Goldie. "We've walked into another trap."

Connor smiled. "You're quite right, Miss MacPherson. I send the messages. But be assured, this is no trap."

"What would you call it?"

Connor gestured to his sofa. It looked like a genuine imitation of a 19th century furniture piece for royalty.

"Please, sit. Let us talk over refreshments."

Harry and Goldie slowly sat down.

"You are a Fourther, are you not, Mr. Crater?"

Harry nodded.

"Right now Fourthers are being hunted down. By The Foundation. By the Society. By other groups. This place around you is a sanctuary for Fourthers."

"A Sanctuary? Is this Nanqu?" said Harry.

Connor squinted. "I do not know that word. No, it is merely a safe place for Fourthers, like you, and Mr. Daystrom."

"Where is Mr. Daystrom?"

"He stayed with us for a while, and then decided to move on," said Connor.

"So you would not mind if we decided to move on," said Harry.

"Of course not," said John Connor, as he poured tea for his guests. "Once you have rested."

"I feel rested now. Goldie?"

"As rested as I'll ever be!" said Goldie. They got up together.

John Connor made a motion with his hands, and two guards barred the door. "You cannot leave, not yet."

"What do you want from us?" Goldie asked.

"From you, Miss MacPherson? Nothing, really. It's Harry that I want."

"Who do you want him to impregnate?" Goldie asked.

John Connor looked confused, and then he laughed. "I actually have a daughter, not much younger than the two of you, and the thought has occurred to me to find her a mate who--but we are not on good speaking terms."

"I'm so sorry to hear that," said Harry.

"I'm not," said Goldie.

"I begin to like you, Miss MacPherson," said John.

"The feeling isn't mutual, Mr. Connor," said Goldie.

"This compound is very expensive to maintain," said John Connor. "It requires a constant infusion of funds. I make my living through investments in the stock market. I believe you have some expertise in the area, Harry?"

"Not really. I... dabble," said Harry.

"My research indicates you do more than that. My sources at your brokerage house tell me that you have made more than a hundred million dollars in the past ten years."

"Harry! You're super wealthy?" Goldie was speechless.

"You seemed surprised, Miss. MacPherson."

"It's just... his apartment..."

"It's a nice apartment," said Harry.

"It's a nice apartment, Harry," She hesitated, "but not an apartment for a multi multi millionaire," said Goldie.

"Can we have this discussion another time?" Harry asked.

"I think we will," said Goldie.

"I want the same performance for me, Harry."

"You want some stock tips?"

"Better than that. I want you to invest a portion of my portfolio," said John Connor.

"I don't have the time for that."

"On the contrary. You have all the time in the world. Both you and Miss MacPherson," said John Connor. "You will start immediately."

"And what if I refuse? Or what if I lose money?"

"You cannot refuse. As for losing money, well, I realize I have to give you incentives. Every day you lose money, or fail to make money, I will remove a finger or a toe from Miss MacPherson," said John Connor. He paused, thinking about it. "You might not notice a toe missing. We will start with the fingers, I think."

Goldie's jaw dropped open.

"But... even I can't guarantee to make money every day."

"You will have to, Mr. Crater."

"Some days the market goes down."

"You have heard of puts and calls, have you not, Mr. Crater?" He checked his chrono. "The markets are open for another four and a half hours. I suggest you begin. Mr. Fibulae!"

A short man with a brown afro came at a run. "Yes, Mr. Connor?"

"Mr. Crater will be joining you in portfolio management. Show him the controls, do everything he says, and watch the money roll in."

"Yes, Mr. Connor. It will be my pleasure." He turned to Harry. "Come with me, please."

Harry stood still.

"Mr. Crater, you now have four hours and 28 minutes to begin earning money. I suggest you begin," said Connor.

Harry gave Goldie a look of longing. Then he nodded and followed Fibulae.

Connor turned to Goldie and smiled. "And now that Mr. Crater is gone, whatever shall we do with all our free time, my dear?"

********

"Ernest Fibulae," said Fibulae, extending a hand. Harry shook it.

"A pleasure," said Harry.

"It won't be a pleasure for long if we don't start making money for Mr. Connor," said Fibulae. He sat Harry down in front of screens showing the status of the various stock markets. "You can invest in the New York markets, or the Chicago Markets, or the Los Angeles Markets, or some of the European ones, though Mr. Connor prefers to remain invested in American ones. He likes to buy American." Fibulae gave a small smile.

"I do too," said Harry, sitting down. He started to study the markets. They were currently up, a small amount. But even as he looked at the indices, he said, "So what's your story, Ernest?"

"I'm the gardener."

"The gardener?"

"Well, I was," said Fibulae. "Actually, I was the deputy gardener. Sabrina, my girlfriend, was the head gardener. She got me my job here."

"Where is she?"

"She's gone," said Fibulae.

"Can I... can I ask what happened to her?"

"Mr. Connor. He... swept her off her feet," said Fibulae. "She fell in love with him. They cohabited for a time."

"What happened then?" Harry asked.

"He got bored of her, and sent her away."

"But not you," said Harry.

"No," said Fibulae. "One day I made the misfortune of walking by Mr. Connor in the garden while he was monitoring the markets on the Pad. He was looking at a certain stock, and I remember saying that it looked like a good one. Mr. Connor laughed, but invested in it. And it went up."

"Why did the stock look good to you?"

Fibulae shrugged. "I know flowers, not stocks, Mr. Crater. But try telling Mr. Connor that. Gradually my intuitions started making him money. I became a prisoner here, just like you."

"Does he cut off your fingers if you lose money?"

"No... he just prevents me from going out into the garden."

"What?"

"It costs me 50 million dollars to spend an hour in the garden. I get outside perhaps once or twice a week," said Fibulae. "I'm only the deputy portfolio manager, by the way.

"The deputy?"

"We keep getting new portfolio managers, but they seldom live up to Mr. Connor's expectations, for long," said Fibulae.

"Was Harry Daystrom one such manager?"

Fibulae paused, and reluctantly nodded.

"And what happened to him?"

"He did fairly well, at first. Until the market took an unfortunate downturn, under his watch."

"And then?"

"And then we had to find a new portfolio manager," said Fibulae.

"Does he... does he really cut off fingers?"

"Sometimes," said Fibulae. "If he's in a relatively good mood, he may just cut off a toe."

********

John Connor congratulated him at dinner. "You earned money on the first day, Harry. I'm impressed. But not surprised."

"I had a strong incentive," said Harry. He turned to Goldie. "What did you do while I was gone?"

"John showed me his library. He has an impressive collection of print books," she said.

The words stung him. He remembered the time Goldie had spent in the bookstore with him. She shouldn't be enjoying books with another man. She saw the hurt look on his face, and bit her lip.

"Yes, I'm making sure she's well cared for, Harry. As long as you keep up your end of the bargain."

********

John Connor had been thoroughly charming as he had showed Goldie his book collection. But also, more than a little sinister.

"Would you really cut off one of my fingers if Harry loses money?"

John Connor paused and looked into Goldie's beautiful blue eyes. "Most sadly. And most regrettably. Because I can think of much, much better uses for your hand." And he had picked up her hand and kissed it, causing Goldie to feel two kinds of shudders going through her body simultaneously.

********

That night, Harry and Goldie whispered softly to each other under the covers.

"We have to get out of here," said Goldie.

"There's an electric fence around the perimeter, and guards at the front gate," said Harry.

"What does that mean?"

"It means it's going to take some thought to figure a way out of here."

"Do you think you'll figure it out before I have to give up wearing gloves, permanently?" Goldie sighed. "I'm scared, Harry. What if you lose money one day? What if you lose money tomorrow? He's going to cut off one of my fingers."

"I'm doing the best I can."

"The best you can is not good enough, Harry. If the entire market plunges, you'll have no way to make money. I don't want to lose my fingers. I've grown very fond of them, Harry." She brushed his cheek. "You wouldn't want me to do this with a stump of a hand, would you?"

"It won't happen. I won't let it happen," said Harry.

"I'm glad, Harry. I'm glad you're the smartest man on the planet. I feel so reassured. But I have to ask myself--if you're the smartest man on the planet, how is it we've wound up as someone's prisoners, again? This is the third time, Harry. I'm starting to keep a count."

"I told you this was dangerous. I told you not to come."

"Me being separated from you is no longer an option, Harry. Until we find the Chair and program me to hate you, I can't bear being separated from you."

"You're not going to be programmed to hate me," said Harry.

"Then what is it, Harry? What is the plan? To condition me not to love you? But what if my love for you is real, Harry? Then you'll be brainwashing me not to love you. Is that your plan, Harry?"

"You can't really love me. You just can't," said Harry.

"Who did this to you, Harry? What woman or women did this to you? Tell me their names, Harry. Tell me their names so I can go and find them and bitchslap some sense into them-"

"It's not them, it's me," Harry hissed. "I... it's hard to say this, but women are repelled by me."

"But I wasn't repelled by you, Harry. Quite the opposite. You're the most charming man I've ever met. You've done things with me that I've never done with any other man. I've experienced things with you I've never experienced with any other man. Harry, I've felt things with you that I've never felt with anyone else."

There was a long pause.

"Really?" Harry asked.

"Yes, you crazy fool! I love you!"

Harry kissed her for a long moment. "I love you too," he whispered.

"Then find a way to get us the fuck out of here!"

**********

Goldie had the freedom to roam the compound. She saw not only the electrified fence, but the guards roaming on either side of the perimeter. The front gate seemed to be the only way in or out, and there were four guards there. Why did John Connor need such a small army to protect him?

"I have enemies, Goldie, as any man of wealth would," said Connor, as they played croquet in the back yard together. Connor, seeing her roaming around, had invited her, and Goldie had agreed.

"Enemies who want to hurt you?"

"Enemies, Goldie, seldom want to help you," said Connor. He smiled at her. There was something in the way he smiled... something in the way he looked at her.

"Have you ever been married, Mr. Connor?"

"Please... call me John."

"John," Goldie smiled.

"I had a wife, but then I lost her."

"Did you try looking harder for her?" Goldie asked.

Connor laughed unexpectedly. "You're quite amusing, Goldie. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Actually, you're not the first captor to say that," said Goldie.

"Oh, please don't think of me as a captor. Think of me as your host."

"A host who's going to snip off my fingers if Harry doesn't make money in... two hours and twenty two minutes."

"The markets are up today," said Connor. "Even an idiot like Fibulae could make money in a market like this. I think your fingers are safe for today." He stepped close to her.

"Would you really do it?" Goldie whispered. "Cut off one of my fingers?"

Connor's expression darkened. He held one of her hands. With the other, he reached into his pocket, took out a penknife, and opened it. Goldie trembled as he put the blade close to one of her fingers. "I would," he said. He stared at her trembling face for a moment. His penis, in his pants, started to get hard.

"But I would much prefer to do this instead," he said, and he leaned over, and kissed her on the lips.

********

Harry made money for the next three days, and then, mercifully, he was given the weekend off, since the markets were closed.

"I notice you've become friendly with our host," said Harry, as they sat in the garden.

"There aren't a lot of people to talk to during the day. You'd be surprised how limited the vocabulary of the guards are," said Goldie.

"I hope you're not getting too friendly," said Harry.

"You mean, friendly enough to sleep with him? You mean, like you're not doing with me?"

"Our quarters are almost certainly monitored. I'm not putting on a show for them. I'm not a zoo animal, and neither are you."

"Harry, you haven't fucked me since I left Greg," said Goldie.

"I... I... I just needed some time to adjust," said Harry.

Goldie gave him a contemptuous look. "Fine. Take all the time you need, Harry. As long as I still have all my fingers and toes, we're good." She saw John Connor coming into the garden, and walked over to him, with a broad smile on her face. "John! These flowers are so beautiful! What kind are they?"

********

The next week Harry made money on Monday. But Tuesday was a close call. The market was down on Tuesday.

John Connor and Goldie were working out in the exercise room. John admired Goldie's trim form. She looked very sexy in tight yoga pants, as her thighs and ass pumped up and down on an exercise bike. But at the same time he was also monitoring the market on his comm.

"Oh oh," said John.

"What?" said Goldie. As she got off the bike, he saw the way her tight shirt hugged her breasts. He would love to sample them.

"The market is down today."

"No... no...." Goldie hid her hands behind her back.

"The markets are closing in four minutes. Let's see how Harry has done." He calmly walked over to the workroom where Harry and Fibulae were watching the market from. Goldie, feeling she had no choice, followed him.

When they got there, Goldie could tell from Harry's grim expression that it was bad news.

"Harry?" said John.

Harry bit his lip.

"Harry?" John asked again.

Goldie started to tremble in fear.

"You gained. You're a quarter percent ahead," said Harry. "There were some losses, but I compensated with puts. You're fine."

John leaned over and checked the displays to confirm it himself. Then he broke out in a smile. "Very good, Harry."

Goldie collapsed against the wall behind her.

********

Harry made more money for Connor the next two days, but on Thursday, the market was down, three percent. John Connor marched to the workroom and the same encounter was played out.

But this time the result was different.

"I... I couldn't do it," said Harry. He was practically sobbing. "You're down, less than half a percent. Please don't do it! Please don't cut my beautiful Goldie!"

"Guard!"

Two guards approached. One drew a compression gun. The other grabbed Goldie.

Connor drew his penknife out of his pocket. The blade gleamed as he opened it.

"Please! Please! Don't do this! I beg you!" Goldie cried, in sheer terror.

"Hold her hand," Connor said.

The guard held out Goldie's hand.

Harry tensed to spring from his chair.

"Don't move!" said Connor. He turned to the guard holding the pistol. "If Harry gets up from the chair, shoot him."

Harry bit his lip as Connor took Goldie's hand, which was being restrained at the wrist by the guard.

"Such a shame," said Connor. "Such a pretty hand." He held the blade and slowly moved it to the base of her pinky finger....

Her eyes were wide with fright. "Please, John. Don't do this. Please, I'll do anything.... anything...."

Connor raised the blade. But then he stopped. He looked in Goldie's eyes. Then he slowly lowered the blade. He closed it, and held it in his hand.

"Let her go," he said.

Goldie cried out as she was released.