The Crystal Palace Ch 05 06

The Crystal Palace

by Simon Underfoot

Copyright 2024; all rights reserved

Chapter 5

I understood Madison's perspective, of course, but it still hurt.

And since I no longer worked at the firm, a chance encounter and subsequent reconciliation was nothing more than a fever dream.

For two full days I moped, lethargic and alone. On the third I went to the medicine cabinet and broke open expired antidepressants from the time I'd left my last job. Time to start over.

Two terribly frustrating weeks followed. No, Virginia Welles didn't send a minion, but she did make sure no accounting firm in the city would even offer a phone screen. Nobody told me as much outright, but I never got a callback or an email follow-up, even for entry level positions, despite good experience on my CV.

Time to look elsewhere?

Nothing was keeping me in the city. Madison was ready to move on, Jenny hadn't returned either of my calls, and Sara had made it abundantly clear she wanted nothing to do with me. I didn't have any friends from outside work, nor family in the area. A change of location might be the best option.

The more I looked, the more excited I became at the prospect. No, there wasn't a

Shangri-La

for Afflicted, but some places were more progressive than others.

The prospect of learning a new language wasn't appealing, so I ruled out mainland Europe. I would have considered the UK, but online rumblings hinted at a right wing shift that would likely impose restrictions on my movement or activities. Ireland might be fine, but would they follow? I'd always loved the idea of Australia or New Zealand, but they were just so damned far away. Which is how I ended up choosing Toronto.

I'd only visited once, but I'd enjoyed my time in the city. There was also full professional reciprocity with my state, meaning I could transfer my CPA over directly, though I would need to learn a different set of tax laws. As for actually living there, Toronto had two different social clubs for Afflicted, and if their websites were to be believed, women would pay for to visit.

Not so different from the job I'd just abandoned, but at least it would be on my terms, which was really the heart of the matter. I don't hate the idea of exchanging favors for sex as long as both parties are agreeable, but working for Virginia had left me without any agency of my own. Yes, it would have been a profitable, physically enjoyable experience, but after a single night it already felt hollow.

So I checked that my passport was current, made travel arrangements, and packed a bag.

The goal was to look around the city with an eye toward the future, see if I really wanted to emigrate from the States. I found a Realtor with good reviews, picked a few apartments I hoped to see, and lined up appointments with both social clubs. I was looking forward to my week in the great white north.

Persistent knocking woke me.

I groaned as I pushed to an elbow and grabbed my phone, seeing it was almost ten o'clock.

On the other side of the door was a pretty woman with short blonde hair, Virginia's assistant. "I'm not interested."

"Hi, Joe." Her voice, sweet as ever, had a hint of worry. "May I come in?"

"Not a good idea. I haven't taken any of my usual precautions and I don't want to Affect you." Besides, I had to be at the airport by four-thirty to catch my flight.

"It's really important." The concern in her tone ticked up a little, but I'd been preparing for this kind of visit since quitting. I unlocked the deadbolt while keeping the chain latched, then cracked the door and stepped back.

"Yes?" I tried to act professional, standing there in just a pair of pajama pants -- it wasn't her fault she got sent on a thankless, hopeless errand. Seeing her eyes widen was a bit of an ego boost, but I pushed it down. "What's so important?" I urged when she didn't say anything.

"It's not the kind of thing we should talk about in the hall," she replied, looking up and down the corridor.

"Then it can wait until the morning."

"You'll be gone in the morning."

I folded my arms, feeling smug. "And just how do you know that?"

She rolled her eyes, exasperation coming through. "Because Ms. Welles has had a firm following you since the day after you left."

My life had become a cheap spy movie, probably in the noir style. "So you're here to warn me."

"What? No, of course not. She sent me to make an offer, good for tonight only." Now it was me that made an overly dramatic gesture of exasperation.

The woman at my door was slim, fit, and quite attractive in a pixie-like fashion. Medium height, brown eyes, and high cheeks with a cute nose and matching chin. She was also dressed to draw attention, including a black top that plunged well below the midpoint of her chest. "Let me guess: you're part of the offer."

She gave me the same unimpressed look her boss had favored me with several times when she thought I was being ridiculous or obtuse. Seeing it again made me grin, in spite of my annoyance. "Fine, give me a moment to open some windows."

I pulled on a shirt and wrapped myself in my robe before letting her in, retreating immediately to the far side of the room: no accidents. "Yes, Ms..." Oddly enough, I didn't know her name.

"Waters," she answered distractedly, taking in my combined living room-kitchen, then seating herself on a chair. "Carrie is fine." She looked up at me calmly, but the underlying uneasiness was still there. "You have her in a bind, you know."

"Me?" Surprise and a fair bit of pent up frustration made the word come out louder than intended. "Listen, Carrie, we both know that's bullshit, but I'm not going to argue about it. Just tell me the offer so you can go home and tell her you did your part."

"I can't. If I don't get you to sign the contract," she paused and pulled a stack of legal papers from her satchel, setting them on the table, "she'll fire me."

"Look, that sucks, but why would you want to work for someone like that anyway?"

"I..." She paused, considering her words. "... would rather not say, but losing this job would be very unfortunate for me. Just take a look, please?" She held out the papers.

I don't play poker, and I try hard to be an up front guy, so I have virtually no practice at hiding my reactions. I know my jaw dropped when I saw the proposed salary: almost half a million dollars, plus additional financial incentives, including a ludicrous performance bonus tied directly to the additional revenue my services brought to the firm. "Holy shit."

"You'll sign it?" Hope in her voice; hope in my chest.

I flipped through the pages quickly, rapidly scanning through the legalese, a trick I'd learned supporting property lawyers. I finished the final page and squeezed my eyes shut, disappointed. "No." I tossed the contract back on the table. My guest looked crushed.

"What about more money?" Her angst was approaching desperation.

"That's not it at all. I won't be Virginia's trained monkey, performing when and how she wants." Her look told me I needed to elaborate. I let out a long sigh and turned to gaze out the window, over the dark cityscape, my eyes sliding from light to light. "I want to contribute, not just because of some stupid physiological anomaly, but because of me, Joe, the guy inside this fucked up situation." I turned back to her.

She stared at me with wide eyes. "That's it?"

"That's everything!" I yelled, then berated myself internally. I closed my eyes tightly for a long moment, forcing myself to calm. "Yes, Carrie. The chance to be me is important."

Her eyes were bright as she stood. "I need to make a call -- can I use your bedroom?" I granted permission with a wave and walked to the now vacant kitchen where I drew myself a glass of water from the tap. Was wanting to be valued as a person really so novel?

She was back a few minutes later wearing a dreamy smile. "We did it, Joe. Ms. Welles said she'll involve you in all future discussions regarding clients. You won!" She held out the paperwork again.

I shook my head. "No contract. I'm not going to bind myself legally to the firm, not when I know I'll never be able to show breach if she changes her mind. I'll come back as an at will employee, the same as before. You can tell her that's not negotiable."

Back into the bedroom retreated Carrie, harumphing under her breath.

The wait was longer this time and I heard her voice through the closed door, though I didn't try to make out the words. It would either work out or I'd fly to Toronto. I relaxed, knowing I'd be fine either way.

When she returned she was moving slowly, not meeting my eyes. Carrie held out the phone. "Yes?"

"You have to sign the contract."

"Good evening, Ms. Welles. I'm sorry to disappoint, but it's not going to happen. I don't care how many zeroes are attached to the offer."

"But we'll give you everything you asked for and more. We need to have security, and that means you formally agreeing to the terms."

"I understand your concern, and I'm not trying to be difficult, but this is a line I won't cross. Should I hand the phone back to Ms. Waters?"

"No, just... just wait." Background noise cut off abruptly as she put me on mute. I chanced a glance at Carrie, but she was zoned out, waiting for us to decide her future.

"Hi, Joe, this is Miriam Peoples." Oh, shit.

"Yes, ma'am," I answered, suddenly more alert. I'd never seen the CEO, let alone spoken with her.

"It seems we're at an impasse, yes?" Her voice was firm, rugged yet refined, the aural equivalent of fine leather.

Deep breath: don't back down. "It would appear so."

Silence stretched for a solid thirty seconds.

"No contract means you give up the new salary."

We were back to negotiating, a minor victory. "That isn't a problem. Ms. Welles was very generous from the beginning, and as I said, my issue was never the money. I simply want -- no, that's not quite right -- I need some control over my work life."

A dramatic pause to let me know she was weighing my demand, but gamesmanship over the phone isn't nearly so effective as staring someone down across a table. "Agreed, but any refusal to provide... services... will carry a financial penalty, and that includes incentives offered to our own employees."

"That's fine," I replied immediately, fairly certain they would never enforce such a thing because of the ever present threat of my departure. For some reason I didn't yet understand, Carrie's assertion that I had the upper hand had been correct.

Silence settled again as the firm's chief waited to see if I had additional demands. "Is that all?"

"Yes, ma'am."

A moment's pause, then a deep chuckle. "Virginia told me you are unique. I am glad that's the case. You will be back at the office tomorrow?"

"Oh. Uh, yes, I can be. Do I still need to wear red all the time?"

She laughed again, this time louder. "Yes, Joe, you definitely need to wear red. Think about it as internal advertising." The call disconnected and I shook my head, then held out the phone.

Carrie grabbed it on the second try, having misjudged the distance while looking through hooded lids. She gave me a loopy smile and exhaled contentedly. "Thanks, Joe," she slurred.

I closed my eyes and sighed, agitated. There was no way I'd been close enough to Affect her so quickly, not with the breeze blowing through my apartment. "I'm sorry, Carrie."

"S'okay," she grinned drunkenly. "My fault. Got cold." It was only then I realized she'd pulled on one of my sweatshirts.

"Let's get this off," I said gently, lifting the hem.

"Mine," she retorted, shaking her head, "but you can have these." She pushed down her black tights in a practiced motion, revealing creamy thighs and a trimmed blonde patch of hair that framed her lower lips perfectly.

Like she'd been planning it since her arrival, she backed to the sofa without looking, sat gracefully, and spread herself wide. "...Ginny said I could have a reward... if you..." She made a vague writing motion with her hand.

I'd made love to Madison several times in that same spot and a moment of heartache flared; I pushed it down, along with my pajama pants.

Carrie's motions remained slow, reaching out to me, smiling lazily. I wondered what she was like when she wasn't Affected as I kneeled between her legs and laid my cock against her, earning a coo in that silky voice of hers. Her mouth tasted like strawberry, made sweeter by the gentle affection imparted to my lips by hers.

Taking hold of myself, I shifted my hips and let the tip of my hard phallus push through her folds. "Oh, Joe. Joey. Joseph. That feels..." Her voice trailed off gently as I started to move, her fingers laced behind my neck.

The closeness was amazing for me after several weeks alone, second guessing the decisions I'd made that led to Madison's departure. I lost myself in Carrie, not making love, but luxuriating in the certainty that she wanted to be pinned beneath me as I moved in and out.

Her orgasm was as honeyed as her voice, a slight crescendo, a little tremor, but no dramatic lockup. I bent forward to suck on her nipple as she was coming down, enjoying the resulting shudder while coaxing out a drop of milk with my teeth. Almost tasteless, it was thicker than any of my previous partners, a unique-to-Carrie treat that sped my pulse. She started working her fingers through my hair and it was my turn to murmur contentedly.

I felt my orgasm approaching well before it arrived, a steady build that I had no intention of fighting. Juice spilled into her pussy, then out again, displaced as I shook with the power of my release.

Deep breath, then a long, steady exhale.

Carrie looked up at me, relaxed, tired, at peace. "Thanks, Joe, for everything." Just a little slur. "I can't tell you how much it means that you were willing to come back." She squeezed her kegels, sending a thrill up my slowly softening penis.

I nodded. "Sorry about this," I said as guilt crept back, glancing down at our joining.

She gave a little shake of her head and grinned. "Do you really think I'm so daft I didn't know what would happen if I put on your sweatshirt? I'm keeping it, by the way." Then she pulled me back down into another soft kiss.

- - -

As one might expect, I had butterflies entering the building again. It'd been less than a month since my abrupt departure, but anxiety bubbled up anyway. What would people think? Say?

"Mr. Keller."

I turned, finding a sharply dressed middle aged man just inside the main entrance. "Yes?"

"This way, please." He held out a hand, palm up, indicating a direction perpendicular to where a small queue had formed in front of the elevator.

A moment's indecision, then I nodded. "I'm Joe."

"Steve," he replied easily as we walked. With the introduction, his formality dropped several degrees. "Ms. Peoples has engaged me to act as your valet." He saw my confusion and smiled. "I'll take care of your little details so you can take care of your big details." I stopped.

"Really?"

He grinned. "Of course. And if you'll allow me a moment of arrogance..." I chuckled and nodded. "I'm very good at what I do."

"Okay, sure. Let's pretend for a moment that I'm so important I need my own assistant. What is it -- in particular, I mean -- that my new valet does?" I asked as we resumed walking.

"Manage all aspects of your schedule, for one. I'll set up appointments, book reservations, make sure you're informed about commitments, deadlines, and the like. I will also handle communication for anything you don't want to handle personally. Emails, calls, even in-person meetings.

"You might also call me a... fixer."

We turned a corner and arrived at a private elevator I hadn't known existed. Steve was wearing a self-satisfied smile, with just a hint of mischief -- or perhaps something darker -- around the edges. He was a bit bulky under his suit, not particularly tall, but something about his movements screamed contained aggression. "Sounds ominous."

"Hopefully not." The words hung for a long moment until I finally sighed in resignation.

"I guess we'll find out."

He chuckled and nodded. "Good attitude." The elevator arrived and we stepped into the small car, which had mirrored walls and a narrow bench with a padded top in black leather to one side, leaving just enough room for the two of us to stand shoulder to shoulder. "Ms. Peoples expects you here Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday every week. Each morning, one of the firm's employees will meet you on the ground floor at nine o'clock and ride up to the twelfth floor with you. Should you decide that the one-hundred forty seconds the trip usually takes is too short, there is a button that will pause the ascent." He demonstrated and I arched a brow, my question unspoken, but obvious; he nodded. "However long it takes, I will be waiting for you and your companion when you arrive."

He hit the button a second time and our rise resumed.

"Ms. Welles' assistant will provide you with the name of your companion the preceding day by Noon, along with her HR file. You have until close of business to decline the offer."

"Unbelievable."

Steve smirked at me, but held his peace. The arrival chime sounded and we stepped through the parting doors and into an anteroom staffed by a professionally dressed woman with cashew colored skin, almond shaped eyes, and a few streaks of gray in her otherwise black hair. "Good morning, Mr. Keller, Mr. Pascal." Her voice screamed Oxford, but her ethnicity argued much further east.

"Ms. Li," Steve answered with a nod.

I waited for a five count, and when nobody said anything else, I approached the mahogany desk. "I'm Joe." The woman rose and extended her hand.

"Lena. I'm Ms. Peoples' executive assistant."

"Nice to me you."

She nodded, offered a smile, and indicated the door on my left.

"Ms. Peoples?"

Lena nodded a second time and her smile tightened to more of a smirk. I looked back to Steve and he was wearing the same mischievous expression he'd had earlier.

I looked down at myself: gray suit, white shirt, solid crimson tie and matching pocket square. At least I was dressed professionally.

"You'll be fine," offered Lena. "She's not nearly so scary as the stories make her out to be."

"Not helpful," I retorted, giving her a faux side eye, which made her laugh. The doors opened automatically at a button push and I stepped into the firm's innermost sanctum.

More floor to ceiling glass, this time in front and on the right; the left wall was covered in deep brown leather. The room itself spanned the entirety of this part of the building, meaning it was more than twice as wide as my huge office was deep -- the enormity of the space was confounding.

"Good morning, Joe." Her voice had a sultry edge to it that hadn't been there the night before.

"Ma'am," I replied automatically, turning to the sound.

She was probably in her mid-fifties, fairly tall, with blonde highlights in bourbon hued hair, but the most striking thing was her body, which had the alluring curves of a beautiful woman who had matured wonderfully. She was dressed much more casually than myself, wearing expensive leggings and an oversized sweater than fell to mid-thigh. It was only when she started walking toward me that I noticed her cane, a heavy piece of ebony wood upon which she leaned heavily with each step.

I took two steps to close the distance before she held up her hand, freezing my feet in-place. She pointed over my shoulder to a large bar set in the near wall. "An espresso, please, and whatever you would like, then join me."

Nodding, I turned toward the coffee machine, relieved that it was just a fancier version of what was in the employees' lounge. I didn't want to get jittery from a second cup of coffee, so I pulled an orange juice from a small refrigerator under the counter and was soon heading toward her with the drinks.