Life as a New Hire

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

*After 150,000 plus words for One in Ten, I needed a mental respite so I dreamed this up. I wrote the first five chapters in six days. This is a darkly humorous tale*

*Thanks to PokingFun for her editing wizardry*

*People who forget their past are doomed to be blind-sided by it*

(Monday)

I couldn't help but notice the similarity between myself and the other four new hires. We were all clean cut men, fresh out of college, fit and masculine. The 'men' part of the equation made sense. Havenstone Commercial Investments had come out of a long legal proceeding over their accused discriminatory policies.

An undisclosed settlement had been reached plus they agreed to implement this new program to hire more men. For me that meant an employment opportunity with a Fortune 500 company despite my rather underwhelming collegiate career. Don't get me wrong; I had good grades. I also went to a college virtually no one had ever heard of – Bolingbrook College in New Hampshire.

With me was Chinese-American Brian Fung from Harvard, blue blood Trent Grant from Carnegie-Melon, African-American Khalid Adzharia from MIT and Salvadoran-American Felix Melena from the University of Michigan – Ann Arbor. For starters, they all had far better academic pedigrees them me, nicer toys, and better looking suits.

The second they found out where I was from, I was dropped out of their conversation. They were bragging about their awards and accomplishments, their families and where they vacationed, professors who knew them on a first name basis and when they planned to get their master's degrees. Given time to take in our circumstances without the distraction of being part of their little club, something occurred to me.

We were all freaking gorgeous. I don't mean cultured, handsome, or attractive to the opposite sex. I meant every one of us would be hit on in a nightclub in under five minutes unless we had a significant other hanging all over us. I was getting a sinking suspicion about what Havenstone considered 'crucial' for job performance and it didn't have anything to do with what alumni we were now part of.

Here I was with my Father's dark good looks, my genetics an ancient blend of Bulgarian and Turkish with a recent addition of Irish Gaelic. My eyes, the legacy of my Mom, were a deep emerald green. The broad shoulders, narrow waist and powerful arms and legs were part heritage with a serious application of physical activity. I exercised constantly, swam whenever I could and cycling was my religion; the tougher the terrain, the better.

Better yet, the brainiacs around me hadn't seemed to figure that out yet. Maybe they thought I was a 'legacy' hire – I had a relative on the inside. Nope. Mom died when I was seven and my Dad worked for Illinois Power and Light as a line runner. His sister, Aunt Stella, was a crab fisherwoman in Maryland and unmarried.

A series of off-handed comments in the interview process suddenly came back to haunt me. I'd been asked about who I was close to, both presently and back in college. They wanted to know about my 'moral character'. Fuck it all – I'd filled out a dating survey! I'd never used a matchmaking service, but I bet if I logged on to E-Harmony, I'd recognize the questions.

The door to the conference room opened and seven women entered. Ms. Tessa Carmichael had handled the interview process. Umami Lhasa was her Hindi assistant and all-around encyclopedia of all things Havenstone. The other five were unknown to me and, I had a feeling, unknown to my fellow new hires. We all stood. The other four smiled. I smiled too, but felt cautious.

"Gentlemen, it is time to begin. Today we begin your internship process and I'd..." Tessa got out before Fung interrupted.

"I was given the impression we were guaranteed employment, Ms. Carmichael," he spoke in a commanding voice. How stupid was this guy?

"Academia is a sheltered environment, Mr. Fung. Havenstone is very much part of the real, visceral world and you can hardly expect to gain a six-figure salary with all the benefits based on your ability to impress men who have never created an iota of wealth in their lives," Tessa smiled. I hoped she eventually give it back to the orca she'd swiped it from.

"I was entertaining offers from several other corporations as well," Trent added his voice. "We were guaranteed employment. Our contracts state so." He seemed proud of his ability to read. Trent should have boned up on reading between the lines.

"Well, if you two wish to sign 'Termination of Employment' papers," Tessa sounded disappointed, "we will conceded to your wishes."

At this point, the guys with a promising futures should have bailed. I didn't have options unless you considered 'do you want fries with that' to be a back-up plan. I was amazed the other four didn't see it.

"What we really want is a clarification of what this internship process entails," Khalid intervened.

Tessa's smile became all happy bunnies again.

"Very well," she appeared pleased, "let's start by introducing your mentors. Mr. Fung, Ms. Julian Jameson has chosen you. She is our Senior VP in charge of Acquisitions – something you excelled in, I recall." Fung looked pleased. Julian was a foxy red-head somewhere in her mid-thirties.

"Mr. Grant, you have been selected by Olympia Shore, head of our Financial Investigative unit." Greying hair yet she looked like she ran marathoners down on a regular basis; she was tall, fit and svelte. "I understand you showed a talent for forensic accounting," Tessa continued. "Mr. Adzharia, you have been chosen by Ms. Phalli Chandra VP of International Finance."

Where Khalid was patently African-American, his mentor was African – most likely central African, like Congo, or Cameroon. She was in her early thirties and sculpted in a way that made me think I wouldn't mind wrestling her even though I wasn't sure who would win. "You have an excellent grasp of linguistics as I recall."

"Mr. Melena, Ms. Tia Pharos VP of Business Management has chosen to take you on." My bet she was Lebanese, or Palestinian – more Sematic than Aramaic. Still, her hair was thick, wavy and long – all the women seemed to go for the 'long hair' look for that matter. She was also the shortest mentor, perhaps one meter - seventy.

"You have all around high marks in your education. We think you will be a perfect fit." He smiled as did Tia. I thought they were smiling for different reasons. Maybe that was paranoia. "Mr. Nyilas," that was me - Cáel Nyilas, "you have been selected by Ms. Katrina Love, VP of Executive Services."

I could hear the 'huffs' of my compatriots. Executive Services were basically gophers for the top tier of the corporation. ES was not the fast track to success. They got the limos and laundry for those who were. On the plus side, Katrina was a voluptuous blonde perhaps forty years of age, hitting all my key sexual triggers...basically, a conscious, breathing female. I didn't have low standards – I was a sexual omnivore.

Given the chance I'd seduce every woman I came across, though not here – not today.

After a short series of introductions, we split up to go to our various offices. It turned out that the mentor/internship relationship meant I would be working at her side – literally. I'd have a spot in her personal office for my work station, I would follow her to meetings and be on call 24/7 to assist her in all departmental duties.

"Thank you for the opportunity," I said when she finally gave me the impression I could speak.

"Aren't you disappointed you didn't get one of the plumb assignments; banking, or asset management?" she inquired while studying me. The gentle hum of the elevator was the only other sound.

"Hell, no," I blurted out then blushed. Katrina arched an eyebrow. "I mean, I think this is a great way to know the company. We get to go everywhere."

"I like your enthusiasm," she commented. I couldn't tell if it was a positive thing. Beyond that, she remained non-communicative until we made it to her ornate, spacious personal office.

Six young ladies followed us into the room, with the last one shutting the door.

"Ladies, this is our latest hire - Cáel Nyilas," Katrina began. "He's from some college in New Hampshire and, like the rest of you new hires, will be expected be working closely with me and each other."

Did I mention they were all hot? I was familiar with some of the looks I was getting, too. Once, in high school, I had asked out the Class president who happened to be rich, pretty and smart. Her boyfriend had cheated on her so I thought I had a chance. I was a working class nobody and the look she gave me hurt as much as her words.

"Never in a million years," she mocked loudly. I was an insect – a bug and way beneath her notice. That was the look I was getting from these girls. Four years later, my acne was gone, I'd filled out nicely and physically I had gone from caterpillar to butterfly. That led to the other half of the vibes aimed my way. It was 'he's delicious' as one of my girlfriends put it.

"Daphne Pile, Dora Cartagena, Fabiola Dobrani, Paula Wadena, Violet Maza, and Theresa 'Tigger' Castro," Katrina made rapid-fire introductions. "Now that we all know each other, time to start filling all the orders in our cue. Until Cáel figures out what is where, who wants to ride herd on him?" I had mistakenly believed I would be working with Katrina.

No one leapt at the opportunity.

"I'll do it," Fabiola Dobrani spoke up. She tried to sound upbeat for Katrina. They filed out of the office, each woman heading off in different directions, while I went to my tiny desk.

"What are you doing?" Fabiola sounded annoyed.

"I need something from my desk and to go to the bathroom," I informed her. She sighed in exasperation. I quickly retrieved a handful of rubber bands then raced to Fabiola. She pointed me at the closest bathroom...which was Katrina's personal one. In I went then I locked the door. My pants and underwear came off. I expediently made a rubber band chain then looped it around my hips and pinned my hard-on pointed up.

That had become a serious problem when dealing with all these attractive women and I didn't need the distraction. Once dressed, I quick-stepped it to Fabiola who was tapping her foot.

"Let's go," she snapped. "We are working with Buffy today. We go with her and do what she tells us to do. Got it?"

"Buffy is in charge – I have a basic command of the English language," I replied. Fabiola shot me an evil look. "What? Do I look like a five year old, or are you normally this rude?"

"I'm not being rude to you," the women with a Mediterranean cast to her features reposed. "You've put us behind the other ladies. In case you haven't figured it out, that's a bad thing on our first day."

"Am I to believe this is your first day?" I smirked. We stopped by another woman's desk. Did I mention that this corporation must raid beauty pageants for their staff? Buffy was a medium height brunette with long hair and a perfectly shaped oval face. Her eyes were the lightest shade of brown I'd ever seen – almost golden.

"I'm Buffy Dubois," she stood and extended her hand. I had a neural misfire. I took her offered hand, leaned down and kissed it. Whoops.

"Cáel Nyilas, Ms. Dubois," I gulped. Buffy weighed my gesture.

"Nice name," she grinned. "Call me Buffy. We go on a first name basis here."

"Our first assignment for the day is to go to 1802 Exeter Tower and prepare the suite for the CFO at our San Francisco office coming in for one week," she informed us. I had no idea where Exeter Tower was and what any of this had to do with my Business degree. I accepted that a fat paycheck was a fat paycheck, so I put my confusion on the back burner.

There was an amusing bit of posturing about who got to drive the company car down to the Exeter. Fabiola made a production of taking the keys and making me sit in the back – Buffy didn't want to drive.

"You aren't much of a man's man, are you?" Fabiola mocked me.

I waited a second for Buffy to say something, considering that bordered on harassment. Fabiola snickered at me while Buffy looked out the window, bored.

"Was that supposed to mean something to me?" I replied smoothly. "I don't know you, you obviously don't know me, and your assessment of my gender potential is ridiculous."

"Come on, 'New Hire', you didn't even go to a real school," Fabiola spat back.

"That's enough," Buffy coughed. Fabiola shot me a dirty look. I elected to not be childish, looking out the window instead. Driving the car turned out to be more of a disadvantage than the gem Fab thought it would be. Fabiola had to park the car while Buffy and I went up.

The Exeter suite turned out to be a fully furnished apartment. The trick was turning the normal accoutrements into the specifics the client demanded. I didn't have experience with interior design. I couldn't say I was demeaned, being reduced to a glorified furniture mover. If Buffy was impressed by my ability to move chairs about, she hid it well.

She even left me to my own devices while she went to the bedroom. I double checked the image she'd downloaded to the cellphone to make sure everything was where they wanted.

"Cáel, I need you back here," Buffy called out. Back I went – it wasn't like I had a choice. "We need to make sure the Feng Shui of the room is impeccable," she ordered.

"Yes, Ma'am - Buffy," I nodded. "Now let's assume for a second I don't have the faintest idea what you are talking about and go from there."

"For now," she chuckled, "it means moving the bed where I tell you to." As I moved to the far side of the king-sized bed, contemplating the crushing weight of my student loans, I noticed Buffy had made a wardrobe adjustment.

That was a kind way to say she had unbuttoned her blouse to her naval and her pale pink, lacy half-bra was clearly visible. I also saw the incisor of some predator hung from a silver chain around her neck. As she leaned forward, it swayed, playing ping pong between her boobs. I was carefully attentive to her instructions and even managed to ask a few questions like 'what is Feng Shui?'

"It is the art of focusing energy upon positive and negative lines so that you promote, or disrupt, the harmony of an area and its occupants," she informed me. She back-flopped down on the bed in one of the least obfuscated suggestions of 'come get me' I'd ever seen. I stayed well away, sensing a trap.

"It's jaguar," Buffy tilted her head back and leered at me. Her shirt was wide open, her bountiful mounds jiggling slightly and her eyes were inviting. She was referring to the tooth pendant that was nestled between her breasts. I backed up toward the window.

"I'm sure there is a story behind that," I tried to wiggle some more breathing room from my collar.

"There is," she rolled over, her goodies still on display. "I shot it with my bow, skinned it and pulled the tooth from its skull." How sweet and informative.

"I'm glad I'm across the room then," I grinned back. "I'd hate for there to be a misunderstanding between you and I." Now she placed herself on all fours and stalked across the bed toward me.

"I don't think you are very interested in me," she pouted. Now I was mentally mapping out the time and distance involved in me getting past her and exiting this career-killer.

"You are my boss," I exclaimed as I started edging around the room. "I imagine you are very interesting, but I'm not the kind of guy who makes advances on every beautiful woman he meets." That was a total lie. I had the bad habit of making advances on ABSOLUTELY every beautiful woman I met.

"Where is everybody?" Fabiola announced after she waltzed into the room. Forget an Oscar, she wouldn't even get a Razzie from me for that patently false performance. Buffy huffed, rolled her eyes and shifted to the edge of the bed. She fixed her blouse properly then shot a withering glance at Fabiola before getting back to business.

After sending a final video of the apartment to the CFO's personal assistant and getting her okay, we checked out our next chore and set to it. A good deal of it was getting laundry, specialty meals and even picking up kids from daycare/school. We did manage to do some actual corporate business. We ran some confidential documents, not trusted to the computer system, to the various big wigs who needed them.

In eight and a half hours I had been a furniture mover, delivery boy, nanny, chauffer and glorified postman. Had it not been for my mountain of student loans, the insane salary and limited job prospects, I would have been disheartened. As it was, I was merely paranoid and confused. I was getting the subtle sense that the women I was working with were waiting for me to fail.

I was confused because, with the bending over, strutting, lingerie model wannabes all over the place, how did they expect me to get anything done? My cock hurt – a lot. I was looking away so often I was afraid I'd get whiplash. These had to be the clumsiest women on Earth. Wherever I went, someone dropped something and had to bend over to pick it up.

No, they could not bend at the knees. They had to reach over while keeping their legs straight. These weren't the new hires either. The only one I saw before quitting time was Fabiola. Even she was pretty helpless. She kept losing her shoes and then pleading to me to help put them back on. No matter how hard she tried, I was not looking up her damn skirt.

Finally Buffy 'released' me, indicating my work day was over. That's when the jackals closed in. From out of nowhere, all six of the new hires appeared outside Katrina's office as I retrieved my valise. Had it not been for my mode of transit, I'd have left it there and made for the elevators instead of risk being cornered.

"Is there a problem?" Katrina spoke up, sensing my reticence in leaving her office. I had to think fast.

"Can I use your bathroom?" I turned and asked her. She indicated that I could. I went in and changed, ditching the rubber band nonsense – it hadn't really worked.

When I stepped out, the conspiratorial whispers among the new girls stopped. I even caught Katrina looking me over. See, I got to and from work on my bicycle. It was a really nice bike. Dad got it for me for graduation – as I said, I don't come from money. Anyway, biking in a suit in New York City was kind of stupid and hard on the dry cleaning bill.

The answer to this dilemma was biking clothes, which in June consisted of very tight shorts and a tight shirt (my helmet is with my bike in a nice secure area in front of our skyscraper). Now take into account I was in really good shape and, oh yeah, horny as hell with a 'sensational' package (fine, one girl called it sensational – I chose to run with her literary license).

1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6; yep, ab six-pack accounted for and there was the tube-snake running off to my left hip. Even my nipples on my broad pectorals were making an appearance (through the shirt). As a passing note, I have a really nice ass, or so I've been told, and these shorts don't work well with underwear so I was going without.

I mustered my courage and marched on the door.

"Ummm..." Katrina purred. "Tomorrow – seven o'clock."

"Yes, Ma'am – Katrina," I waved over my shoulder. The new hires parted for me, except for Daphne. She put a hand on my right bicep.

"Cáel, we are going out for drinks to celebrate our first day," Daphne smiled sweetly.

"Thank you, but no thank you," I shook my head. "I'm not into time travel." I moved past her.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Dora inquired. They followed me to the elevator.

"It is a riddle, Dora," I grinned. "If you six ladies celebrated your first day with the company, where and when did this celebration take place?"