A Grip on Reality Ch. 01

"You were looking for $30,000; I figured you might need a little extra cushion. If you don't need it all, you can always give it back."

The man stared at him with something like awe in his eyes, took the pen that Ben was offering, and signed. Then he looked up at Ben again and said, "God bless you, Mr. Mitchell, God bless you!"

The story spread through the bank like wildfire, and by that afternoon Perry Bergen was on the phone to Ben. "What were you thinking?" he demanded. "We'll never see that money again."

"Maybe, maybe not," Ben admitted. "But it just felt like the right thing to do."

"Please, Ben, don't play any more hunches without talking to me first," Perry begged.

But the story didn't end there. Another customer in the bank at the time had managed to capture the entire episode on video and posted it on YouTube. When Ben went into work the next day he was greeted by a news crew from one of the local television stations asking for an interview. No sooner had Ben finished with them than another reporter called, and then another. That night the story led the evening news.

While Ben was still trying to assimilate what was happening the next day, a friend brought him a copy of USA Today, which had picked up the story for national circulation. As Ben was reading, one of his employees approached him with wide eyes. "It's Good Morning America! They want you to fly to New York to be on the show!"

Then the story got even better. During the live interview, Robin Roberts surprised Ben with the news that a local employer had heard the story and offered the would-be bank robber a job. "If Ben Mitchell was willing to take a chance on him, I guess we can too," a company representative said, and the audience cheered wildly.

The New York Times ran a story under a picture of a bemused Ben Mitchell with the caption, "The Face of Compassionate Capitalism." The story also carried details about Ben's life, including the death of Ben's father and Elizabeth. Ben hadn't wanted that, but there was little he could do to prevent it.

The publicity gave CFB an enormous boost in name recognition and a surge in both depositors and loan business. Perry was in ecstasy as he watched the weekly numbers grow; he never mentioned his initial reaction to what Ben had done.

A month later the publicity had finally died down when one of Ben's employees came to see him. "There's a woman here asking to see you," the man said. "She said she's a reporter."

Ben groaned. "I thought we were all done with that. Can't she come back another time?"

The man in front of him gave Ben an odd look. "I really think you should see her."

Ben raised his eyebrows in question, but the man said nothing more. Finally, Ben told him to show the reporter in.

When he heard the door open, he looked up - and then simply sat there and stared. The woman standing before him was breathtaking. She was tall with dark hair that flowed down and framed the most captivating face Ben could remember. She was not classically beautiful: her nose had an odd bend in it that suggested it had been broken at one time. But that didn't detract from her looks; instead it seemed to make her face that much more striking. With her high cheekbones and dark eyes, she was simply the most attractive woman Ben had ever seen in person.

Suddenly he realized that he was staring and he rushed to stand and shake hands with her, apologizing clumsily for the meagerness of the office.

If the woman was put off in any way, she gave no indication of it. After she was seated she bent her head and looked up at Ben from under her long eyelashes. "I'm Cilla Devereaux, Mr. Mitchell, and actually, I'm the one who owes you an apology. I'm not really a news reporter, I'm an author writing a book on new trends in business practices. My working title is The Metamorphosis of American Banking in the 21st Century. From what I've been reading in the news, I think Community First Bank would make a wonderful case study."

Ben was happy to talk with her, and used the opportunity to find out as much as he could about the enchanting woman seated before him. He was impressed to learn that Cilla had earned her MBA from the Wharton School at the University of Pennsylvania. After working for several years with one of the major consultants, she told Ben that she had become fascinated by the lessons that her consulting work had uncovered, and she wanted to try her hand at writing a book.

He in turn gave her a quick rundown on his background and how he had come up with the CFB's mission and philosophy. The two of them were chatting so easily that Ben was startled when one of his people knocked on the door to tell him they were ready to close for the night.

"I didn't realize I was keeping you so long," he sheepishly apologized. "Would you like to continue this over coffee or dinner?"

She smiled regretfully. "I'd love to do that, but unfortunately I have a prior commitment tonight." Seeing the disappointment on Ben's face, she quickly added, "Would it be possible for us to resume this another time? I don't want to interrupt your work anymore than I have already."

He quickly agreed and a new date was set.

The next time they got together the conversation flowed just as easily as before. Ben opened up to Cilla about Elizabeth and how he had lost her. His story brought tears to her eyes. She in turn told him about her first marriage to a man in Miami who had turned abusive. "My ugly nose was a parting gift from him," she said bitterly. "I never tried to have it fixed. Every time I look in a mirror I want to be reminded of the price for being naïve and trusting." Ben told her he thought her nose made her face look even more striking and attractive, and she smiled gratefully.

When they finally wound up the evening, Cilla kissed his cheek and told him how much she was enjoying their sessions. Since Ben felt the same way, it was a simple matter to arrange another get-together.

Their next "interview" was over dinner at one of the nicest restaurants in town. By now Ben had stopped lying to himself - he wanted to impress her. She was so unlike other women he'd been introduced to after he'd become a widower. She was intelligent and easy to talk to, she had a good sense of humor, and above all she had a face and figure that belonged in a fashion magazine ad. As he escorted her to the table, he caught the envious glances following them and felt proud.

Dinner was even more enjoyable than their prior sessions, undoubtedly helped along by an excellent meal accompanied by a fine wine. Ben hadn't wanted the evening to end, so he was delighted when she asked if he could show her his home before they called it a night. "I've found you can tell so much about a person by how they live," she told him as he drove her through his neighborhood." Now he was especially glad that he'd bought the big house.

When they got inside he took her coat and hung it along with his own in the entry hall closet. Then he led her into the living room and began talking about the house. Suddenly she grabbed him by the shoulder, spun him around and kissed him passionately while thrusting her body against his. After a long blissful interval, she pushed herself away from him. "I'm sorry, Ben," she said, her breath coming in great gasps, "I know I shouldn't have done that, but you are the most fascinating man I think I've ever met."

He stared at her in amazement, not daring to believe that she had similar feelings about him. Then a look of determination mixed with years of pent-up lust came over his face and he grabbed her to him and kissed her hungrily. After a minute or two he paused to look at her. "I feel the same way about you, Cilla. I haven't been able to get you out of my mind since the day I met you."

He started to crush her to him, but she stopped him. "No, you sweet man, let me do this." She pushed him back so that he sat down on the sofa. Then, swaying to some music only she could hear, she began to remove her clothes. It wasn't a striptease - every move was natural and unaffected. Yet the result was the sexiest thing that Ben had ever seen. And when she stood before him wearing nothing but her underwear, he was in awe. Her bra and panties were black and sheer. He had not realized that she had worn a garter belt, and this one wrapped her in bands of black satin that emphasized her long legs and flat tummy while directing his eyes toward the delights waiting beneath her tiny panties. She looked like someone out of a Victoria's Secret catalog.

She held her pose for a moment, then strode forward and began to tug urgently at his clothing. In a frenzy he pulled and yanked until he was naked. Then he bent down, scooped her up in his arms and carried her back to his bedroom.

He had intended to lay her on the bed, but once again she took charge, slipping free of his grasp and pushing him down on his back. Then she knelt between his legs and ran her fingers up his thighs until she reached his swollen cock. With no delay or hesitation she sucked him into her mouth and began to perform rituals with her tongue and lips he had never experienced before. In no time he was straining up against her in ecstasy, and although he tried to warn her she kept him deep in her mouth until he pulsed in orgasm.

Overwhelmed, his head flopped back on the bed and for a moment he was unable to think. Then he quickly rose up on his elbows to look at the raven-haired goddess kneeling before him. He tried to pull her up beside him, but she wouldn't move, remaining where she was with his cock in her mouth.

Then he became aware that her tongue was still working on him, and to his amazement he felt the beginnings of a response. In moments he was stiffening again, and she gave a little cry of triumph as she felt the evidence of her success.

When she had him once again at full erection, she sprang to her feet and clambered up on the bed. Straddling his thighs, she reached down and pulled the crotch of her panties aside. Almost frantically she began rubbing her pussy over his swollen cock, and Ben couldn't help but feel how moist she was. Then she grabbed his cock with her other hand, held it where she wanted it and impaled herself. In an instant she was in motion, now rising up and down with little cries, now rocking back and forth so as to rub him against her clitoris. The sensations Ben felt were incredible, and the raw passion that possessed her produced a matching response in him. He heard himself growling and grunting like an animal.

Suddenly she bent over so that her breasts were mashed against Ben's chest. Thrusting her arms around his shoulders, she clutched him to her, then threw her weight to one side so that he rolled over on top of her in the missionary position. He felt the nylon of her stockings along his sides as she raised her legs straight up in the air. Then she was screaming, "Now, fuck me! Harder, deeper, now, now!"

Like a wild man he thrust himself into her, trying to batter her into submission. Her only response was to reach back and grab his buttocks with her hands to pull him into her, deeper and harder.

"Oh, I'm going to cum!" she exclaimed, "You're going to make me cum!"

As he heard her cries rise in pitch he tried to accelerate even more. Having already cum once, he knew that he wasn't quite ready to do so again, so he tried to hurry so he would be in synch with her. Suddenly, as she flexed and bucked against him, he felt one of her fingers slip into his ass. Her finger probed deeper and deeper until she stroked his prostate gland. A sensation like nothing he'd ever experienced shot through him and he exploded in the biggest orgasm he'd ever had, even as he heard Cilla reach her own peak beneath him. He collapsed on her, holding her like she was the only still point in a turning world.

When he opened his eyes again, morning was shining through the bedroom windows. He glanced over at Cilla, who was lying on her side, still asleep, only partially covered by the sheet. Ben shook his head in wonder. Even in her sleep she looked carefully posed.

He realized that her eyes had opened and that she was looking at him with a little grin on her face. "Hi, lover," she said quietly. "Thank you for a wonderful evening."

He pulled her to him and kissed her lips gently. "Last night may have been the most incredible experience of my life," he told her sincerely.

"Did you like that?" she asked coyly. "Even that?" she asked, wiggling her middle finger suggestively.

"That was intense," he said emphatically.

Her face became serious. "That's exactly how I feel about you: intense."

After that there was no longer any pretense of remaining author and interview subject - they were a couple now. Ben began taking Cilla everywhere, introducing her to his friends, showing her the sights of his city. His friends were delighted to see Ben come out of his long-imposed mourning. After a night out at the theater with Perry and his wife Frances, as the two women went off to powder their noses, Perry pulled Ben aside. "You lucky son of a bitch!" he exclaimed, pounding Ben on the back. "I thought that you had sworn off women for good, but by God you've sure made up for lost time!" Ben had noted how much Frances had let herself go over the last few years, and he decided that was why he'd heard the note of raw envy in his partner's voice.

Ben was also surprised at the response of some of his female acquaintances. Even though they'd been the ones most eager to get Ben back in the dating pool, some of them seemed almost resentful now that he'd found someone. He chalked it up to jealousy. "They wanted me to do well, but not to hit a home run," he thought with amusement.

After six months together, Ben decided that he'd lived alone long enough. When he proposed to Cilla, she eagerly accepted. Ben offered to give her any kind of wedding she wanted, but she firmly told him she wanted a simple wedding in their back yard with no one but Perry and Frances as witnesses.

Ben's reverie was suddenly interrupted by laughter from the audience, and he realized that Perry was winding up his introduction. Ben glanced over at his smiling wife and allowed himself a feeling of intense satisfaction. "Life is pretty damned good," he thought. "After all I've been through, it says something that the biggest problem I have is how to say no to BankGroup's buy-out offer."

"And now," he heard Perry say, "without further ado, I give you your Banker of the Year, Ben Mitchell!"

As a wave of applause swept over the room, Ben leaned over and kissed Cilla, then rose and reached for the speaking notes he had stuffed in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. As he did so, he noted in surprise that he was sweating profusely. "I'm not usually that nervous before making a speech," he thought as he made his way to the podium. A wave of heat enveloped him and he thought, "I need to ask them to turn up the AC in the room."

Spreading his notes on the podium he looked around the room and froze. His heart was pounding in his chest so loudly that he wondered if the audience could hear it. Then an oddly familiar metallic taste filled his mouth and a line from an old R.E.M. song popped into his head: "Aluminum tastes like fear."

Ben turned to look to Perry for help but recoiled when he saw his friend's face highlighted by rainbow-like colors. Ben rubbed his eyes, but the colors remained, growing even brighter. He grabbed for the podium to steady himself, and the taste of chocolate mixed with the aluminum.

In panic he tried to ask for help, but his tongue and lips were now moving in slow motion so that the sound that emerged sounded like some drunken foghorn. He heard shouting and tried to see where it was coming from, but his view of the room was now blurred and indistinct. Suddenly, he could make out hands and arms reaching towards him, and the audience transformed into zombies intent on killing him.

He gave a high-pitched moan and tried to hide behind the podium, but it seemed to quiver and pulse like a living thing in his hands. As he looked in horror, the microphone transformed into a snake that opened its mouth to reveal fangs dripping with venom. In fear and loathing he shoved the thing away from him, and the podium toppled to the floor with a crash that gave off a purple echo.

Shouts and screams filled the air, and when Ben looked up to see what was happening, he realized that the walls of the room were beginning to melt and run. Before he could react a spark of light glinted from the ceiling, and the crystals in the chandeliers turned into ice-like spears hurtling toward him. In a panic he threw himself over the table in front of him and rolled off the dais onto the floor. The fall momentarily stunned him, but then he saw shapes approaching him and he crawled under the skirt of the platform, looking for a place to hide. The darkness helped momentarily, but then blobs of light appeared, taking strange shapes that were constantly changing. Some of them were quite beautiful, and he paused to marvel at what he was seeing.

But then he was being dragged back out into the light, and despite his frantic struggles he found himself unable to get away. Weights too heavy to lift pressed down on his arms and legs, and something clamped on his head to prevent him from thrashing. The noise around him was overwhelmingly loud, so he tried to block it out with his own screaming, but to no avail.

Suddenly there was additional pressure on his knee and a sharp pain in his right thigh. The world began to dissolve into darkness, and the last thing he saw was Cilla's blurry face looming over him. Then there was nothing.