Life as a New Hire Ch. 03

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

Instinct, education and experience are complementary, not in opposition.

*****

(Wednesday)

The phone rang. The clock was flashing 6:15. Odette snuggled up to me, making cute, happy cat-like noises. Timothy's bed was bigger than mine so I had to reach out to get my mobile device. For the tenth time, I silently thanked Timothy for switching bedrooms with me, though I believed he had chosen to sleep on the sofa instead.

"Hello," I said quietly.

"It's Buffy. I'll be there in fifteen minutes," she stated firmly.

"I have a companion over," I hesitated. "Can you make it twenty-five?"

"Who is that, Cáel Nyilas," Odette yawned. She liked the way my full name rolled of her tongue.

"Who is that?" Buffy grilled me.

"She's a sweet young lady I met - the rest is none of your business," I told Buffy. To Odette, "It is one of my many bosses. After my 'auto accident' (I couldn't tell a stranger that some psycho bitch - who I had just screwed - had her mentor kick the shit out of me), she brought me home then deposited me at your workplace. My bike is still at work." I had told Odette I was a cyclist.

"Does she think you are sexy?" Odette giggled. I groaned.

"81 days, Cáel," Buffy reminded me. "81 days," then she hung up. I wasn't getting my extra ten minutes.

"Do we have time...?" Odette wiggled her whole body against mine.

"I don't think so. Babe," I sighed. "All I can do is go down on you then I have to grab a shower and get dressed." Odette blinked, blinked again, then brightened up incredibly.

"If that's all we can do," she exhibited no regrets as she hurled the covers back. It took me seven minutes to bring her to orgasm.

I was good, but I had also torn up Odette pretty badly last night. I had to buy Timothy some more condoms. I felt kinda bad for using the number I did. I raced to the shower, did a Wonder Woman (hold your arms out and spin around a few times in the shower), raced back to Timothy's room - Timothy shot me with his Nerf gun from the sofa (Odette was vocal) - and began dressing.

"Odette, stay and get some sleep," I stroked her cheek. "Timothy heads to work around ten, so if you could head out with him so he can lock up the place. Fix whatever breakfast you like. If it is Timothy, I'll make it up to him."

"You mean beyond letting us use his room?" she fixed me with her feline eyes. I coughed.

"Come on, Cáel Nyilas, this room is plastered with male Calvin Klein models and you have five copies of the Village Voice on your dresser. You are far too proficient with punching all my buttons to be gay," she pointed out.

"Gay men can be very sexually proficient," I countered.

"Cáel Nyilas (damn, she loved my name), you came five times. I lost track of how many orgasms I had. If you are gay, you aren't in De-Nile, you are in Ethiopia," she giggled. This wasn't the right moment to brag that I ejaculated eight times last night. Rhada filled up three condoms during our little escapade. I repeat, I have an out of control libido.

"Gotta go," I straddled Odette and gave her a kiss. I deftly avoided the French grapple because I had the feeling that Buffy wasn't the kind to wait patiently.

"Timothy..." I mumbled as I sped to the door.

"I know - girl - bed - sleeping," he groaned. As the door shut I heard him add, "at least he's not dull."

I managed not to kill myself tumbling down the stairs in my haste to reach the street. Buffy was waiting and drumming her hands on the steering wheel. I tried the car door - it was locked. A tap on the window earned me a baleful glare. I sighed and fell on my knees.

"Please," I begged. "Please, please, please let me in the car." I heard a click after ten seconds.

"You're late," she remarked as we sped away. I hastily put on my seat belt.

"I apologize," I tried being obsequious.

"You had better be, damn it," she seethed. Oh...I scented arousal...and jealousy. We drove a few blocks in silence. "Who was it?"

"Are we on the clock?" I countered. Pause.

"No," she said in a clipped tone.

"None of your fucking business, then," I growled. "My sex life is none of your concern, Buffy. It is none of your group's concern, so give it a rest."

"Or what?" Buffy's eyes narrowed. I wished she would watch the road.

"Thunderdome, Bitch!" I grinned. Oh, she tried. She tried really hard to stay angry with me.

"I hate you," she snickered. She pulled out her phone and handed it to me. It was a picture of Buffy, Katrina, Tessa, Desiree and some woman who looked familiar standing, or kneeling, behind a pile of dead animals. All the ladies had bows, knives and camo gear.

"Does the Audubon Society know about this? I'm pretty sure the World Wildlife Fund would have a freaking stroke," I nodded.

"Ladies at Havenstone have a passion for killing things," Buffy measured me. "I thought you might want to know."

"Why do you use bows?" I questioned. "Don't your boobs get in the way?" Buffy smacked me in the chest - hard. I could have blocked. That would have been counterproductive. No, I grabbed her right boob and gave it a strong squeeze. In retaliation, she hit me again. I grabbed her boob. This went on until we entered the garage. She got in the last hit.

"We are on the clock now," I notified her. She seemed less than pleased. "Very nice, by the way."

"Huh?" Buffy studied.

"Sorry. Any continuation of this conversation would constitute sexual harassment," I sighed.

"I am mentally projecting negative emotions your way," Buffy grumbled.

"I believe the totality of your efforts create a positive outlook for me," I grinned.

"Have you ever been skydiving?" Buffy dropped out of the blue on me in the elevator ride up.

"With, or without, a parachute?" I inquired. She blessed me with a feral smile.

I hurried to Katrina's office, Buffy a step behind me, rumbling like the jaguar she'd performed illegal dentistry on. She wasn't trying to intimidate me. Buffy was trying to mark her territory. I made it to my desk without actually being scent-marked, so I considered the encounter a draw.

"Have fun last night?" Katrina inquired without looking up.

"More than any one man should have," I confessed. Further conversation was severed by the arrival of the first of the female 'new hires'. As Katrina started our little meeting, I surreptitiously put in the work order for my suits. I wasn't sneaky enough for Katrina.

"Are you suffering some sort of head trauma that makes you believe you can avoid participation in this meeting?" she purred.

"No, Ma - Katrina," I was contrite. "I had to submit a work order for the business suits Buffy and Helena purchased for me last night so I would stop coming to work dressed like a homeless panhandler." That killed four of the girls; they failed to stifle their giggles.

"Couldn't you have dealt with that on the way in?" Katrina had this glitter in her eyes.

"Buffy was attempting to subject me to vehicular homicide," I replied. "I was afraid for my life on multiple occasions, up to and including her entry into the garage."

"How horrifying for you," Katrina delivered deadpan.

"I had my hands full, I swear," I placed my hand over my heart.

"I suspect that was the case," Katrina allowed. "Is there anything else you need to take care of while the rest of us wait on you?"

"Thank you, yes there is," I smiled, nodded and began typing away.

"I was being facetious, but then you knew that," Katrina teased. Several girls were openly giggling now.

When I finished, I walked around Katrina's desk, went to one knee and lowered my head. Katrina scanned my latest request.

"Really?" she was intrigued.

"Yes, Ma'am," I looked up at her. She ran her hands through my hair. "Katrina."

"You are trying," Katrina remarked. That could read either way. "Go back to your station before I show you where you really belong," she chuckled. I stood up and fist-pumped.

"Woo-who!" I shouted. "I'm going to bed." That finished them off. Even Fabiola cracked a tiny bit and snickered behind her hand.

The real joke they were embracing - making me part of their new breeding program - was the punchline to the joke Katrina and I found amusing. I knew the truth. We received our assignments and left the office.

"How did your date with Rhada go last night?" Paula nudged me.

"It wasn't a date. It was a corporate appointment," I corrected. "As for the rest - you don't want to know. Please believe me, you don't want to know."

"I can make you tell us," Fabiola smirked. The group kept together until I reached Desiree's desk. She was my boss for the day and she was not pleased, or amused.

Fabiola saved me.

"Sister, compel this one to tell us what happened with Rhada last night," Fabiola sneered in Hittite. I played dumb which wasn't hard in my fatigued state. Desiree transferred all of her dislike of me into outrage at Fabiola's breach.

"Is your blood poisoned?" Desiree seethed. "When they tossed you off the rocks, did you bounce back up, or are you so arrogantly stupid you would flaunt one of our most basic safeguards?"

"You are only half the woman you could have been," Fabiola shot back.

By the way Desiree flew out of her chair that was a deadly insult. I put my body between them and grabbed Desiree by her upper arms.

"Release me," she yelled, her hate returned its focus to me.

"You are my boss," I explained calmly. "I most join you in your battles. Is this a battle you truly want to fight, here and now?"

"Release me at once," Desiree commanded.

"One of us hiding behind a man," Fabiola mocked Desiree. Daphne punched her. "Ow!"

"Care to try that on me?" Daphne challenged Fabiola. "My family's prestige has never been called into question." I was starting to think they meant genetic purity.

"Buffy would not want me to let you come to harm," I whispered to Desiree then released her. It was that hunting photo that made me make that leap. Desiree glared at me. A slap followed, but it wasn't all that hard.

"Do not touch me without permission, Cáel Nyilas," she commanded in a clear voice.

The matter was almost settled.

"Come on," Desiree barked. I had one final bit to take care of.

"Daphne, thank you. Helena says you are coming along really well. Maybe we could have a few drinks after hours and you can give me some pointers," I requested.

Daphne seemed to mull that over. We had moved past the entrapment phase to the 'male in the bull pen - what do we do with him now' phase.

"I'll think about it," Daphne shot me this sexually curious look. Off they went and I had to sprint to catch up with Desiree who hadn't stopped to listen to my conversation with Daphne.

"Do not be flippant with me," Desiree grumbled. "I am not Buffy."

"Of course you are not," I nodded. "Katrina values your counsel and she trusts you."

"You know nothing," Desiree groused.

"Really? Helena and Buffy were sent away with me yesterday afternoon - you stayed," I began.

"This male internship program is the brainchild of Katrina and Tessa. Maybe she thinks that I'm in danger, thus her program, so she chooses you to safeguard me - no other," I added. "I don't think much of my place here as an individual, but I represent something of value to our boss. If that is the case, how much does she value and respect you?"

"Do you ever shut up?" she glared at me.

"Is that a question, or a veiled order?" I grinned. She glared some more. I kept quiet. Desiree had to enter a special code to gain us access to Basement Level 3. A short trip down a drab concrete hall illuminated a door and two Amazon's guarding it.

Desiree's ID card allowed her access. Mine did not. The security types verified my permission to be there, then verified it again. Finally, one pulled Desiree and questioned her. With great reluctance, the guards let me into the room. Their caution made sense. This was the Havenstone Corporate HQ armory.

This was not a few guns in a case with handful of wall sconces. Nope, this was an ATF gun-gasm, White Supremacist Nirvana, and a Gangster's Paradise all rolled into one. Desiree went to one table, lifted and examined one 9mm Walther PPQ, loaded the clip and gave it to me.

"It has no safety, so be careful," she notified me. She tossed the shoulder holster and two spare magazines my way.

As she readied her own weapon set, I put on my shoulder holster and secured my weapon.

"This is nuts, Desiree," I stated. "I'm not ex-military. I'm not a security officer, bodyguard, or assassin either."

"Don't get hysterical," Desiree snorted. "This is a simple assignment. We are going to pick up some school children and take them to their exclusive academy."

"Besides, on your resume, you claimed to have a passing familiarity with a number of firearms," she grunted.

"What do I do if we are stopped by the cops?" I inquired.

"Go to jail."

With that sterling pep-talk, we exited the bunker with a variety of weapons - mostly Desiree's because she was clearly anticipating the end of the world. She stored the weapons in our new, armored car while I stood close by acting like a weapons dispenser. According to established routine, I was given no specific instructions until we arrived on site where I was then supposed to instantly absorb the knowledge.

I gave that some thought. Havenstone knew their male hires had academic success. Given twenty-four hours, we could memorize anything. The Amazons, being a militant culture, were testing us to see how quickly we thought on our feet. It was still mean. As we pulled up to our Brownstone destination, I was given our mission.

Desiree was to go into the house, retrieve three schoolgirls, Aya (9), Europa (13) and Loraine (16), and bring them into the car. I was to wait on the stoop, hold the car door for them and keep my yap shut. By insisting I not use flippancy, Desiree had cut off my conversation at the knees.

"Woman, grey coat at the North corner," Desiree muttered to me as we started up the stairs. She went inside; I stayed on the stoop. Thankfully, my sojourn into Amazon politics had strengthened my ability to ignore the obvious and appreciate the benign. Two women were meandering up from the South and the woman to the North had gained a companion before Desiree returned. The girls came out first.

At the bottom step I caught sight of movement. I turned and stopped the children from advancing.

"Hey," the Loraine squawked.

"Cáel..." Desiree got out.

"Two to the North and two to the South - closing in," I whispered.

She did a casual scan.

"Take them to the car," Desiree ordered. I thought that was pretty stupid. If a murder/kidnapping was in the offing, getting the kids back inside seemed more prudent. I hesitated. She glared. I swallowed my instincts and began sheparding the girls down the stairs.

The moment the third child's feet hit the sidewalk, both groups of women began speeding up. I was trying to hustle the girls to the car's back door when a van came speeding up out of nowhere. I wasn't going to get door open in time.

"Down!" I shouted as I used my superior size to press my three wards down and against the car. The van screeched to a halt and the sliding door opened.

I drew, aimed over the top of the car and fired the pistol twice without even thinking that I was murdering somebody. I heard Desiree firing to the North. The woman in the van door slumped back. A second one tried to untangle herself so I put two bullets in her as well. I took a step and a half South, kneeled to shelter the girls with my body and began firing at the two southern women running my way.

I put two bullets into each of them - missing every shot. Crap. Suddenly, as I was shoving a new clip into my semi-automatic pistol, the eldest child broke and ran for the stairs. I looked over my shoulder. Desiree was down. One woman remained coming from the North. I hurled my body at Loraine, taking her down. I landed us on my shoulder then rolled to cover her.

I brought up the pistol and fired twice at the northern woman.

"Cease fire!" an unfamiliar female voice commanded. The northern woman stopped. As I swung my pistol South, I noticed Desiree sitting up. The two women in the van were coming back to life too. Three women I didn't recognize were coming down the Brownstone steps.

The lead female was clearly in charge. She approached me and extended a hand.

"Male - pistol," she demanded. I rose to me knees, pulling away from her and yanking Loraine behind me.

"Lady, I don't know you," I growled. "I'm not giving you my gun, or the girls, until someone tells me what's going on."

I was contemplating how bad her punch/slap/kick was going to be when Loraine laughed.

"That was fun," she exulted. "He tackled me and everything."

"Cáel," Desiree ordered, "give her the gun." I wasn't happy, but I did hand over the weapon.

"It was loaded with blanks, Moron," the leader smirked. "We would never let a man with a loaded weapon around our children."

"Thank God," I mused. "I couldn't understand how I missed those two down South."

"What makes you think you would have hit them?" she sneered. I pulled Loraine up with me as I resumed my feet then put her behind me.

"What makes you think your brain isn't as blank as the bullets you gave me?" I glared.

"Watch your tongue, Male," she glared right back.

"You threatened three children under my care," I grumbled. "Be happy I don't plant you on your ass." She looked more than happy to throw down.

"They were never your children to protect," Desiree spoke up. "This was a training exercise."

I looked over my shoulder at the other two girls. They were smiling at me. This had been fun for them. The only one who didn't know this was fake was me. I groaned.

"Clip," the leader snapped. I handed it over without protest. I'd used the other spare. She turned to Desiree. "Take them to school."

The five of us piled into the car and drove away. It was less than stunning that I didn't get a new firearm. I was sitting in the front passenger seat, feeling morose and angry when Europa spoke.

"That was really brave," she commented. "You did much better than the lady last spring. She went nuts."

"Really", I swiveled so I could see their faces and make sure they weren't pulling something on me.

"Oh, yeah," Loraine chuckled. "She ran right at the two down the street, firing as she went. Totally missed the van rolling up. Forgot she was supposed to protect us."

"She got high marks for marksmanship," Europa told me, "but we never saw her again."

"You smell nice," Aya beamed little kittens my way.

"He smells like sex," Loraine giggled.

"Starting with the fact that you are underage, add my desire to live and we end up with us not having his conversation," I winked.

"I've never seen a man as pretty as you even at school. The boys in my class are such jerks. They say I'm a freak because I have no Daddy," Aya went from happy to a frown.

"When I was in grade school, they called me a freak too, Aya," I met her gaze. "The difference is, I deserved it. I was a rude, mean person."

"Not having a Daddy doesn't determine if you are a freak; how you behave does. You are a very nice woman so they should be nicer to you. You are not a freak. Trust me, I'd know it if you were," I gave Aya a warm smile and tapped her nose playfully.

"Whomever controls you did a good job," Europa observed.

"No," Desiree snapped. The children must have been briefed on my status as well as spent a lifetime disguising their true culture.

"Europa, I am controlled by Katrina. I'll relay your compliment. She has delegated me to Desiree for the day, which means I'm with you three this morning," I answered despite Desiree's disapproval.

The private academy was for the wealthy; gender was not an issue. Security checked our ID's before they let us disgorge our precious cargo.