Chasing A Waterfall Ch 02

Disclaimer: Do not read further if you are under the age of eighteen or are otherwise prohibited by law to view sexually explicit material. All characters engaging in any sexual activity in this story are at least 18 years of age.

Do not reprint this work on any other website, or any medium, without express consent from the author (me!).

Synopsis: A man awakens to no memory of the night before, and conflicting recollections to his true identity. This is the second chapter in the story arc. I hope you enjoy this submission! As always, comments are appreciated and encouraged.

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Standing Under an Umbrella, and Chasing a Waterfall

Chapter 1, Part 1: "You Can't Go Home Again"

They were in bed together, both on their sides and curled up together. Cassandra was on the bottom; Michelle has spooning up against her, their bottom legs intertwined. Her breasts pressing against the upper should and neck of Cassandra. It was a peaceful pose. Almost idyllic in the sensuality that it expressed. He did not know what to make of it. Michelle was either falling hard and fast for this new girl or she was just the latest in a series of third wheels that their relationship might have endured. He wasn't sure, as he couldn't remember.

At that very moment Michelle's eyes flew open. She blinked twice and then her vision focused in on him. A fleeting smile began to trace her lips, but vanished just as suddenly when he began to back out of the doorway. Out in the kitchen, he waited, though she was a no show for a considerable period of time. A thought crossed his mind about whether it might be in his best interest to write her a note. He was not given the chance, however. Just as he had grabbed a pen and paper, she walked through the doorway of the bedroom, and taking grasp of him led him away through the kitchen and down the corridor into guest room at the end.

As they walked, he trailed slightly behind and remained silent. This introduced an added measure of complexity into the formula. He wanted to do one of two things. First, he wanted to argue with her over what the hell that was all about, and then he wanted to leave. The trouble was the sway of her hips from side to side was very inviting and disconcerting at the same time. The more he thought about, the less likely that this was his life. He began to almost have a sense of guilt about their relationship. He was not Vincent or so he believed, but she didn't know that, and he didn't know how to tell her it.

Stopping, she waited for him to pass her by before closing the door behind him. Looking on, he found it a bit hard to concentrate. She wore only a lacy white bra that looked to be two sizes too small for her. She was nude below. The landing strip began to look rather alluring to his rapidly swelling manhood. Above was a chain wrapped around and hanging from her toned stomach. A naval piercing was focused centrally in her figure. Casting his eyes up, he saw her breasts. They seemed to be struggling to free themselves against the material of white, lacy bra.

A snap of her fingers later, his eyes returned to her face. Now looking at her, the expression on her face changed from one of mild annoyance, to moderate understanding. A smile came over her. Michelle was happy to see him.

"Your late again, Vincent!" Michelle mocked him. "I really expect better of you. I gave you a chance when I called you last night. What do you expect, I was lonely and she was more willing than you were?"

"So did you... you, know?" he guessed his head forward (as if toward the bedroom).

"Did we fuck? You seriously want to know if... Seriously? I'm not sure, you walked in on us in a naked embrace, sleeping... what do you think?" she ridiculed.

He winced. "So where does this leave me in all of this?"

"My boyfriend," she mumbled a bit unnerved.

"And her?"

Closing her eyes, she held still for a minute as to compose herself. "Honestly, I think I am falling for her a bit, though I don't think she falls into girlfriend status at the moment. Why do you care so deeply? It's not like I am your one and only g-i-r-l-friend. We're not even a real couple. You know that I am more into women than men. I'm just fringe benefits of your job. You're girl toy."

He winced at this. It was a bit more than he expected. To the best of his knowledge, Vincent worked for her father under a subdivision headed by Mr. Blackstone. She was the boss's daughter of the parent company; this put her at the top end of their relationship. He had no knowledge of another girlfriend, nor did he know that she bent more to the lesbian side of her bi-sexuality. If he could have guessed, he would have placed her somewhere between bi-curious and full on bi-sexual.

"Wait, I'm employed by your father, and what do you mean by other women?" he stuttered.

Michelle shook her head; a look of bewilderment. "You did work for my father... right up until you arranged a coup under the direction of Mr. Blackstone. The company is still publicly in my father's name, but your subdivision is running the show. As for me, the last I checked we were engaged, but I've known for sometime that there were other women. I am not stupid, Vincent! Our engagement is a little more than show to please the board of directors by showing that my father is still in charge of his company."

A short of numbness went through same. It took everything in his being to not give a visible trace of his lack of knowledge about this rather startling revelation. He began to get a feeling that no matter how real this was, it had to be a dream. She had essentially spelled out for him what their relationship status was in two sentences. A long moment of silence followed between them, his facial now expression showed doubt, and this puzzled her all the more. His facade was beginning to crack.

"As for Cassandra, she is the latest in about a half dozen women that I've been with since, well you know." Actually, he didn't, but he wasn't about to inquiry into what he didn't know. "It's just as much your fetish as it is mine. You love seeing me with other women, though you are usually a bit more involved than you have been as of recent." Stopping in mid sentence, she looked him over again. "You really haven't been yourself recently. Maybe you should have them run another MRI."

Vincent felt a chill run down his spine. She obviously was implying that he was either sick or had been in an accident. He smiled. Not sure what else to do, he played as if he had just been "playing with her." It sounded like something this guy would do.

She gave him a wicked grin. Michelle fell for a bit of the deception that he had been trying to portray as intentional. The wicked grin gave way to more of a shy, reserved tone. "You know you can be so tricky some times. For a minute you actually had me believing that you had some kind of memory latency issue or something after the... well, you know... ever since..."

Moving forward, he felt her grasp onto his privates. Michelle gave him a wicked smile. He of course had no idea what she was making reference of. He guessed based on the vague hints that it had to be some kind of accident.

"Still, maybe you should get checked out. We wouldn't want any ghosts in the machine," she uttered mockingly. Coming up, she kissed him full on the lips.

He of course let her; he even returned the kiss ever so briefly before backing away. "Yeah..." he whispered, through clenched teeth.

"Tell you what; I'll see what I can do to get her ass up and out of here faster." Taking a few steps, she turned and said, "Just let me handle this. I really like her, and you know how shy she is around men.

"Huh?" was his response.

An amused laugh came from her at his lack of a retort. "Honestly, I think she still thinks this is her affair."

By this she must have meant that their brief interlude had led to relations that Cass did not believe he knew about. Oddly enough, this made him all the more in need of her. Taking a seat, he began to understand why he could have fallen for her. What he did not understand is what she meant "ghosts in the machine." A haunting thought than ran through his mind. He had remembered reading about carbon sleeves or constructs when he was younger, though it was only in the realm of complete science fiction, and purposed futurism thought experiments. It was essentially a life form that was grown to maturity and then the consciousness of another individual was transferred over through a partial brain. His hand instinctively went to the back of his head. He felt no scaring; he felt nothing out of the ordinary.

A moment later, a feeling of stupidity came over him. It was obvious that this was not the answer. He was not living in a sleeve. There was something much more boring and benign to what was going on, and he needed to get to the bottom of it. He just had no idea how to do so.

His mind was brought back to the present by laughter. Taking his cue, or what he perceived to be a cue, he made his way down the corridor. The dining room, living room and kitchen were still empty. The bedroom door was open. With him in view, a figure stepped out. Michelle. She had an angry look on her face. Waiving him back, he ducked around the corner. Doing so, he could not help but feel silly. If he was the type of man Michelle had described him as, he should go in their and demand that both women pleasure him or else. The trouble was that he was beginning to understand that he was not that man. He didn't know how, but he knew that he was not Vincent. At least he was not her Vincent.

A few minutes later, he could hear the running of the shower and the closing of the door. He believed this to be the bathroom door. Moving quickly through the kitchen and into the bedroom his assumption turned out to be correct. The two women had gone into the bathroom together. He really didn't know what he was doing in her bedroom. The intention had not been to spy on them. The thought of searching through the remaining items he had left in her closet was high on his mind. While he could not deny that he was unbelievable turned on by this, he really had little interest in sticking around. He had enough foresight to realize that nothing good could become of this.

Not even two five minutes after they had entered the shower together, he saw that the door knob was twisting. He froze once again, but managed to back out of the bedroom before his girlfriend emerged from the bathroom. She caught him in the kitchen. Oddly, she was still wearing the white bra, but now had on lacy white panties as well. Her anger was mocking and joyous. She was teasing him, "and doing a good job," he thought. Moments later, he had watched her pulled a pair of blue jeans up, the type that had rips by design in him. It had been a fad back in his early years, but he couldn't remember when it had gained popularity again. Then again, he really was not into the latest fashion trends, so he really had no idea what was "in."

She gave him a come-hither motion with her finger. He had followed behind her like a puppy dog. Embracing him by the closet, she fell into him, and the two of them began to make out with reckless abandon. He really wanted to pull away. Her smooth lips and straining bust up against him were just too much. Little could be done to pull away. Just as their making out had reached a fevered pitch, they heard Cassandra.

Michelle looked like a deer caught in the headlights as she stopped and backed away from him. Obviously, she had been a little caught up in the moment as well. They were both in a state of panic. Mere seconds from now, Cassandra was going to come through the door, and find him with his girlfriend. A bit of a wicked idea crossed Michelle, opening the closet; she pushed him inside and shut the door behind him.

A second later, he heard Cassandra reenter the room. A surprised Michelle tried to compose herself. He was hidden between a number of her long dresses and evening gowns. Michelle really did have a naughty side to her. Some of them were very revealing. That was not it, however. The elongated mirror built into her closet was in reality a two way mirror. He had a completely unobstructed view of what was going on. He wondered if he was the one that had them installed, he had the fetish after all for seeing his girlfriend with other women.

Cassandra came up to Michelle. Her lengthy, sporty figure was nude. Her moderate breast high on her figure and the landing strip between her legs looked to be intact, though freshly trimmed. For her part, Michelle looked nervously over at the closet. Obviously, this had not been part of her plan. Maybe getting a flash of her body was, but this was a little too intimate. Her friend's eyes blazed with desire that even he could see.

"Ah, Cass, what are you doing?" She backed away from Cass. Michelle now looked nervous. "Weren't you about to take a shower?"

Coming up to Michelle, she bent forward and kissed her full on the lips. An ensuing passionate kiss came about. Michelle was only able to break free after a bit of a struggle. "How about we take a shower together?" A long pause came between them. "I could really use a...."

Cassandra seemed unwilling to have any of it. Continuing to kiss, she was forcing her back toward the bed. Fright gave way to lust as Cass worked her magic on Michelle's neck. This seemed to be a weak spot for her. She was no longer glancing over in his direction.

Unbuttoning her jeans, she exposed the white panties beneath as she rolled them part way down. Falling to the floor, Cass began to kiss the naval of Michelle, and she cooed in response. Working her way back up, they kissed on the lips once more. An even more passionate kiss was exchanged this time.

"I love how my bra looks on you. It can barely contain your breast," Cass laughed.

They kissed once more. Cassandra was just going for the back of her bra when the dresser buzzed. Michelle woke up out of her trace. She now eyed the phone over Cassandra's shoulder.

"Leave it," Cass sternly warned.

"I can't, I'm sorry," Michelle responded, a ting of regret in her voice. Walking over to the phone, she picked it up, and Cassandra let her head hang. "Damn girl." Silence as Michelle checked the text message. "I'm going to go grab that shower." A moment or two later she was gone.

Emerging for the closet, she smiled at him. Her arms went around his neck; she pulled him in close and kissed him passionately, but only ever so briefly before pulling away once again. He could still see a deep desire flaring in her eyes.

"It looks like that was a close call, you got lucky," he whispered.

"You didn't though," she mumbled. Pulling him down close again, she whispered in his ear, "I think if not for that phone call, you would have gotten a chance to watch her eat my pussy once again."

She moved out of his grasp, and he followed after a reluctant gasp on his part. Out in the living room, they embraced and kissed a last time.

"I'll see you later. Let me know how things go. It looks like..."

"Nothing is going to happen, my father's personal assistant just texted me. My father beckons me. Cassandra is not going to be happy." He was now in the hallway, and her head was around the door.

"Michelle, where are you?" Cass asked, in the background.

Rolling her eyes, Michelle mouthed the words, "later," and shut the door behind him.

Chapter 2, Part 2: "That Sinking Feeling..."

From the moment that he left her apartment he had come to the conclusion that something really was amiss. It was not all in his head. What he could not explain is why he seemed to have two identities. Their short conversation in the guest bedroom had raised more questions than it had answered. He had no idea what she meant by "ghosts in the machine," though he was guessing that it was not something as simply as an accident.

Further, his change in appearance did not explain the conflicting sets of memories that he had. It was as if he had lived two alternate lives. He began to wonder if maybe his current identity was actually the true one, and that his alternative composite self was little more than an identity break. There were other memories, deeply hidden, that had been their since his original wake up, and had been slowly leaking out ever since.

That night he spent held up in his townhome. He did a lot of research, though most of it only raised more questions. What he could establish is that Michelle had not been lying. Everything she had said was true or at least he believed it was plausible given the evidence of company records before him. The trouble was that he didn't really have access to company records off site. His main account had been locked out. He was informed to contact the network administrator to get his credentials updated. Given the circumstances, he really did not think that would be a good idea.

He only hoped that the audit process of progressing account information was not so locked down as to log every failed attempt at logon, and trace back the IP. He of course had not been naive enough to try to login with an IP issued by his internet service provider. Still, spoofing by going through a number of servers did not realistically narrow his chances of being identified by more than a few extra steps. It would only buy him some time. If they really wanted to find out who was behind the failed signin attempts, they could.

As for local documents, he was amazed at the wealth of information stored locally. He literally had droves of information on the company. It would not be unrealistic to assume that Mr. Fairborne lacked trust in others. No, he was paranoid. The information collected seemed to be corporate policies, background checks, mission statements and classified documents. This information was almost at his finger tips. The operative word being "almost."

The trouble was that he did not have any real memories of his "current" life as yet. He seemed to slowly be regaining basic elements of his day to day life, but that unfortunately did not include passwords.

Overcoming the security in order to bypass the login had been simple enough. For the most part everything here was of out of box Unix and Windows stock. It took very little effort to crack when one had local access to the systems. Where it became complicated, however, was with encrypted storage volumes.

Nothing was in the clear. Some of the file names were readily accessible on files that had not been placed within encrypted containers and, or volumes, but that did little but taunt him. None of the very limited memories of "his" life proved useful. The man did not use his birthday, girlfriend's nick name or any of the common used passwords. He did find a script for password generation. It was set by default to create between 64 and 256 random character phrases. The scheme employed seemed to be of the industry standard AES 128bit or greater. Some of the other algorithms being used seemed to be very proprietary.

The trouble was that the information was written to external devices and not local storage. No swap drives were present and no files were cached to local internal boot or storage drives. This made recovery a bit difficult. He was not certain if no information of the hard disk was recoverable, but with the tools at his disposable, it was highly unlikely.

By now his neck was beginning to hurt. His back had become sore hours ago. His wrists ached. He was getting another headache, and going through caffeine withdrawal at the same time. After pounding down over 2000mg of caffeine, and still growing more and more fatigued with each passing moment, he decided to call it a night. He had been on this quest for the better part of the day. Beginning in the early morning hours after returning from Michelle's and it was now 5 o'clock in the afternoon. Uncovering the secrets to Blackfoot Securities was going to have to wait another day.