It was a strange feeling but as I drove my fingers in and out of her I could feel them inside myself. I closed my eyes trying to concentrate. The harder I drove her the more I could feel.
I opened my eyes to see the chandelier in my bedroom ceiling. I looked around. "Damn." I cursed because I had realized it had been a vivid dream nothing more. A dream so vivid I woke up fingering myself. I need to get this woman out of my head.
I looked at the clock, 8:30. I got up and headed to the washroom. Turning on the shower I stepped in. Washing away my desire for the woman in the yoga pants. I turned off the shower and grabbed a towel. 'I need a hardcore work out.' I pushed in the tiles above the hot and cold taps then turned the shower head to the right then gave it a tug outwards. The back wall of the shower slid silently into the wall to the left revealing my hidden wardrobe and costume room. I stepped over the tub letting the wall close behind me. I had stepped into a small elevator I pressed the second button on the panel. It was run on a completely independent nano generator. My entire system ran off the grid and worth every ounce of gold.
Shortly after my parents had died I bought four apartments under three aliases. I picked one high profile, one mundane and one simple. On one of my first assignments I had met Marc. It was a strange relationship we had. Only speaking to one another when we were in need of a partner. Occasionally he breaks into my apartment and steals my underwear. One time I had left my computer on with my favourite porn clip minimized on the bottom screen I came home to find my favourite pair tossed on my desk stiffened with his cum. Since then I started leaving my favourite toy and a video of a break in and entering where the woman is sleeping only to wake up to find a man hard and has his way with her. Maybe one day he will take the hint. I was basically giving him permission to take me and he had yet to respond. 'How disappointing.' It had been a long time since I was with a man and I didn't do relationships. It left me few options because I wasn't into men that fucked a different woman every night. I was aware of the double standard and the flaws in my logic when I will take any woman home that suits my fancy. I had looked for any evidence of him being in my apartment. Sadly I had found none. Maybe one day I will have my way with him.
Marc had the ultimate of connections when it came to creating a bulletproof alias. An agent who worked for the government. He was the director of class B immigration. He was faithful to the cause but was also an addict and would do almost anything for a fix.
I had him create an alias that I would be able to keep as long as I was in need of one. Sometimes it was the simple one that I liked best. People open doors and give you a seat on the bus when your name is Ethel-May Trail and you're pushing into your 70's. No one really notices the elderly. It was my best alias for getting in and out of the apartment quickly without anyone taking notice.
I bought the apartments so that I could build a small elevator while the building was being completed. This way no one would know any differently if the bathrooms in 19c to 23c were 3 feet shallower than the rest and no storage closet. Each floor had their purpose. I had also explosion and sound proofed them. 23c was my absolute favourite with all my toys and books. 23c was my big splurge compared to the others; especially my apartment 19c which was under my birth name. If I didn't have Mel I would have killed that part of my life off completely.
Everyone notices you when you are 5'10, waist length hair that is naturally black with purple and blue highlights. More indigo than blue. My parents had paid a small fortune to have my hair, eyes and skin genetically altered while I was nothing but an embryo. They gave me caramel skin that feels like satin and hair that grows too fast. It was thick and shines like a midnight navy satin curtain. My eyes a glowing ice blue. They had named Lillian Alexandria Scott and believed I would be a famous actress just like my mother.
I was famous just not the way they were hoping. I have my mother's looks. Sinewy with a killer hourglass shape, my chest being on the larger side caused me more problems than good. They probably bought those too. I had my father's intelligence. I was able to assess a situation and calculate the probable income much faster than most. I worked very hard exercising my mind and body to keep an upper hand.
One would think I had it all. The only thing that is missing is emotion. I can fake emotion better than any actress in New Hollywood. I don't know if they had it removed in some way, I do know for certain is that unless it is a strong emotion such as what I feel for Melissa; I do not feel at all. I am completely indifferent. I only choose to be good not because I feel I should.
The elevator stopped and the door opened. As I walked through the room as the lights and music began to play. I had a playlist of all the old music that my grandparents listened to. When you think of grandparents you think the type of music they like is the top 40 songs of their younger years. In reality it was the type of music that made me want to have sex, fight or go on an epic adventure. Dead souls by Nine Inch nails began to play. I had become obsessed how the music made me feel when I discovered grandmother's old workout play list. She was the one that taught me to box. Grandfather was the one that taught me how to hunt. My grandparents were the ones who shaped me and taught me right from wrong. She instilled in me a great sense of justice and told me about how life and governments used to be.
I was in one of my wardrobe rooms. Every floor opened up to one except for 19c the one I lived in as Lily. I lived as one would stereo type a young attractive woman of her mid twenties. Struggling to get my life in order, drinking on weekdays and showing off all my expensive clothes. I had the wardrobe placed in the center of the wall as if I gave two shits about cloths. 'A Channel vest is not going to stop a bullet going through me. Kevlar will.' I thought to myself as I dressed. I put on a pair of spandex pants and a tank top that was loose enough to box in.
I opened the double doors on the other side to walk into my personal gym. Gleaming maple wood floors. Large bench for stretching and lifting weights. I had a heavy bag in the center with all the other equipment strategically placed so that I could do my circuit as efficiently as possible. I moved to the bench so I could stretch my limbs.
"Clint Mansell." I called to the computer. My play list of the composer from the late 90's to 2040's always got me in the right mind set. Dead reckoning began to play. I could feel my pulse beating to first violin. I began every session with a series of difficult yoga positions keeping my balance keen. I moved to my heavy bag. Throwing various punches until my arms began to ache. Next was close encounter training high knees and low hard kicks. I wrestled with the body bag until my muscles began to scream in protest. I got up stretched out all the stiffness that was settling into my limbs and hopped onto my treadmill.
"News." The music shut off. The back wall which had looked like a simple mirrored wall was now a screen showing ten different channels of the world news. I watched the screens as I jogged. Europe still at war with one another. They had called it the 50 year civil war. It began in the late 2010's with the fall of Greece. It was then the European currency, the Euro, began dragging its surrounding countries into a black hole of poverty and chaos. The people pulled into bankruptcy because their country had become corrupt and was no longer a true democracy. The trouble was every country on the planet was the in exact same detrimental situation. For 100 years globalization had turned into complex webs of lies and secrecy between each country finding different ways to push their beliefs on each other. The governments calling it politics, I call it 'how to take as much from one another while keeping the general public placated with their reality TV and the American dream of go to college, get married, buy a house with a garage and have 2.5 children work until retirement and then live off your pension until you die.' The trouble with that dream was that there ended up having too many retirees to cover the pensions; all the while the poor and the blue collars were getting openly robbed by their country through the banks. Retiring became a privilege. At the same time the world was dealing with Global warming, mass food shortages, record earth shaping earthquakes and hurricanes. Wars for the human right of freedom and food spread throughout Europe. Putin of Russia began putting a one world order campaign of one billion through the UN in place. The laws in North America began to change as they watched Rome burn once again.
Governments began setting up their chess pieces against the ill informed citizens so that they do not have a choice but to fold under the pressure. Once the middle class had been eradicated the governments began a new classing system. Cities were separated into classes. Class (A+) were the government officials living on parliament hill Class (A) were the rich and famous of our country living lives of inherited wealth. (A-) were the politicians and military officials. (B) is the higher functioning office workers such as engineers and architects. (B-) are the (B)'s assistants or secretaries while the (B+) were the owners of the companies. The class system worked all the way down to (F). If you were classed into and (F) and deemed nonthreatening you were all but a slave. Working only for food and shelter, you were neutered and placed in working camps where you worked for your food and shelter. They were neutered because the government had marketed them as useless eaters and they needed to be eradicated to ensure man kinds survival. The most humane way to go about this was to allow them to live with dignity by giving back to their country as a thank you for their life. That was what kind of propaganda they spoon fed the public. Personally, I think a bullet to the back the head would be kinder than being a slave. Yet who would work the mines? Who would make our clothes? Who would do all the undesirable jobs for no pay? These were questions very few would even ask themselves in private because without (F)'s we would have to send the (D)'s to do the work. Then who would serve us our fast food and daily coffee? Society as we know it is no better than the Roman Empire thousands of years ago. We simply have better tools and less orgies.
