Life as a New Hire

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

Thanks to Chopperfan327 for the edit and the regular and updated bullpen for keeping me on track.

The words 'I love you' inspires joy, relief and terror.

*****

I missed my entry to the infirmary. I was returned to clarity by the two female attendants. The younger went straight to cutting my left pants leg off while the oldest Amazon I'd seen to date began an excellent rendition of 'beef' inspector while pretending to be a physician. It was almost hilarious when she looked to Sydney, addressing her in Old Kingdom Hittite.

"Was he being disciplined, or did he do something stupid?"

"I did something stupid," I griped. "I showed up to work today." Since it was their native tongue, both of the medical attendants' eyes bugged out.

"He volunteered to help Aya of Epona with her archery lessons by letting her shoot at a fruit out of his hand," Sydney related.

"This...this isn't a wound caused by a practice arrow," the physician observed.

"No, that was from Leona of Marda. She attempted to kill him. When Leona threatened his controller, he presented himself for slaughter," Sydney clarified. "Hayden stopped Leona, Leona disobeyed and we need to plan Leona's funerary arrangements now."

"How did you come to speak our language?" the junior attendant asked. The tone of her voice and the look in her eyes was chilling and sensual at the same time. It was chilling because of the transformation she went through as I went from a piece of equipment to a close approximation of a human being in her eyes. I was getting tired.

"Erotic poetry," I humored her. "I had a lover some time ago - a scholar - who wanted to share Old King...Amazon love poetry and songs in the voices of their creators. I know multiple languages no longer spoken."

#Your eyes are stolen from the waterfalls descending from the highest mountains#

#Your hair robbed from the threads of the night sky#

#Your body is shaped by the Mother Rivers#

#Your beauty is the gift of the Goddess who knows both tears and love#

I recited it in the original Chaldean Babylonian. They were all staring at me, so I translated it into Hittite. It didn't flow as smoothly.

"What language was that in?" the security guard inquired.

"Chaldean Babylonian. It is a love poem from a prince to his dead wife," I answered.

"It was nice, even eloquent," Sydney remarked.

"Wow," I sighed. "It is tragic to think not a single woman in this room has ever been romanced."

"I am pretty sure every woman in this room has been with a man before," the security guard countered.

"After sex, what did the two of you talk about?" I regarded her.

"That's not what we use men for," the doctor spoke up while she began examining my wound. Pain. "We use artificial insemination and surrogates for procreation. Beyond directing them in our physical stimulation, there is no need to talk to men."

"Oh," I mused sadly. "That makes sense and is richly rewarding to know. If I was more like the rest of you, I'd be laughing. Unfortunately, I have a heart and compassion, so I'll pity you all instead." The doctor didn't take my honestly well. "Ow! Good bedside - Ow! - manner there, Doc."

"We don't need your pity," the security guard threatened.

"Sure, but then I've not bred myself into extinction out of fear of cuddling either," I grinned. "Treating men like livestock makes sense - if you are evil. You refused to allow yourselves to get attached to any male so it would be easier to kill us when our time came."

"Tread carefully," Sydney cautioned me.

"Okay Sydney. Since you are the only female present capable of having offspring, I'll be good," I got in my parting shot. By the silence in the room, I had hit the nail on the head. "I apologize for disturbing you ladies. I'll be a good male and keep my mouth shut."

That declaration didn't last long. Apparently pain-killers were not part of their medical credo. When I asked, the doctor implied I wasn't hurt nearly enough - in other words, not being amputated or decapitated. I asked if being castrated would earn me a hammer to the head. They smiled. They thought I was a funny guy once more. It was the whole 'laugh at death' mystique again.

This tender, motherly moment was punctuated by the doctor's application of the staple gun (instead of stitches) to both entry and exit wounds. Sydney offered to give me something to bite down on. I insisted on sharing my pain as I screamed my lungs out during the torturous procedure.

"I thought you were a tough guy," the security guard sneered.

"And not screaming would have made me tough? Bitch, those are some fucked-up priorities. Screaming meant I didn't jolt when she was stapling my wounds shut. I've been stabbed and stitched enough to know that much," I glared.

The assistant had been walking her hands over my body during the process.

"You have been stabbed fourteen times," she muttered.

"You missed the one on the right foot," I corrected.

"You've been stabbed fifteen times? What do you do?" Sydney wondered.

"I date women. You are a surprisingly dangerous breed, even without the extreme training you ladies possess," I confessed. "To be concise, I have the bad habit of dating women and their friends, acquaintances, and even family members - usually without their knowledge. It always ends badly - thus the wounds."

"You betray the women you sleep with?" the doctor stared.

"We could banter terms and expectations about, but essentially 'yes', I do," I sighed.

"You seemed like such a well-behaved male," the security guard looked confused.

"Huh? What does my love of sex have to do with my demeanor?" I mused.

"I've never beat a lover, or forced myself on a woman. If you want to hold my lack of forthrightness against me, please remember you are part of a secret society that embraces kidnapping, rape and slaughter as daily practices," I smiled. "Comparatively, me not telling one woman that I'm dating her neighbor is small potatoes."

"We do what we do out of necessity," the doctor insisted.

"That flimsy excuse is about as useful as 'you wouldn't understand; you aren't a woman/amazon/nutty-nut bar," I shook my head. "I give up. Your society has equaled, if not exceeded, every inhuman deed men have ever committed."

"Congratulations; you have become crueler and more depraved than your enemies," I lauded them.

"Because of your ignorance, I will let that outburst go unpunished," Sydney stated. I wised up and shut up.

My shirt was returned and they had to synch a large towel around my waist because my jeans were ruined and they didn't have scrubs in my size. They gave me my bloody dockers too. Sydney walked me to the front entrance. By the looks of the women we passed they knew something had happened, if not the precise nature.

Security's opportunity to 'get me' on the way out was stymied by Caitlyn & family, Desiree, Tigger, and Buffy hanging around. The moment Aya saw me, she called out my name and came running. The only thing worse than the pain of her impacting me would have been the look on her face if I warded her off. I caught her in my arms and lifted her up.

"Cáel," she exclaimed. "Does it hurt?" I kept lifting her until I blew loudly on her belly.

"Does that hurt?" I teased her.

"No," she giggled.

"Then I'm fine. Really now, I've been hurt worse by a splinter from a toothpick," I exaggerated for her.

"You are lying to me," Aya shook her finger in my face.

"The lesson being 'don't lie to winners'," I sighed.

"Yep," Aya mimicked me. "Is our date for tonight still going to happen?"

"Oh...Aya, I can't," I groaned. "I've got three smoking hot babes coming over tonight."

"Don't make me punch you," Europa play-threatened. She and Loraine had sneaked up on me while I was entertaining Aya.

"I don't know," Loraine gave a cautious laugh. "I like being called a smoking hot babe."

"Aya, I really like you, but do you always have to drag those two around with you?" I wiggled Aya up in the air. "It's kind of creepy." She giggled.

"Those are my sisters, Silly," she snickered. "They will be your daughters one day too."

"Time for us to go," Caitlyn intervened. As she ushered her children away, she shot me a look over my shoulder that strongly suggested she wanted to play house. Desiree moved to within a meter of me and looked me up and down.

"You are an idiot," she remarked, turned and left. I looked to Buffy.

"I'm your ride," Buffy snorted. I hobbled to her.

"I'm glad you are okay," Tigger waved then followed Desiree out.

"Thanks for a great time," I looked over my shoulder at the Amazons. "As soon as my blood supply has replenished, I'll be sure to come back and play some more."

We were in the car, exiting Doebridge when Buffy finally spoke.

"Why do you keep thinking you can keep getting away with talking like..." she was glaring at me. "Oh Goddess...you really are laughing at death. You really believe you are going to die, don't you?"

"Absolutely. The moment they started chanting I realized it was unlikely I'd get out of this experience alive," I admitted.

"Why are you holding us to the 78 day rule?" she asked.

"Recall what I said about backbone, Buffy?" I reminded her.

"I am attached to the lifestyle I've created and I'm not going to change it to scrape out a few more days of existence," I grinned. "I hold Havenstone to that countdown because I would do it if I thought I was going to be okay." A few more minutes passed. I tried to cut the radio on. Buffy kept cutting it off. I was getting sick of it and my annoyance was showing.

"Did you really tell the whole dome that you would sleep with me first?" she whispered.

"Of course," I replied. "I said that was my intention at work and I mean to keep to it."

"What about Hayden?" she asked.

"Well, unless you agree to a three-way, I think this is going to be an issue we'll have to work around," I shrugged.

"I'm not even sure I like you," Buffy mumbled. "I want you. I am not sure I like you, though."

"Buffy, that's fine," I murmured. I unbuckled my seatbelt and began twisting around in my seat. My thigh was killing me, but I was a man on a mission. I put my head in Buffy's lap, gazing up at her.

"What are you doing?" she grinned.

"Annoying you - taking advantage of you - take your pick," I smiled. We drove for a while.

"What are you thinking about?" Buffy gazed upon me warmly.

"Picturing you in different colors and cuts of panties," I told her. Buffy frowned then returned her focus to the road.

"What is your favorite?" she inquired a few seconds later.

"I'm torn," I confessed. "I never seen you semi-nude so I have to do some imagining. How do black hipster lace panties sound?"

"Not a thong?" I had her attention again.

"Nah. You are like a chocolate covered cherry, Buffy," I explained. "Those panties would be like the sweet sugar before you bite into the cherry. It tantalizes with the promise of something even better." Silence for over ten minutes.

"I hate you," she gulped. She expressed that by tenderly stroking my face and hair.

I drifted off to sleep shortly afterwards. It was the combination of lack of movement and the city's static that brought me back. We were parked somewhere, Buffy gazing down at me with something that might have been confused with affection.

"We are home," she whispered. "Your home. I need to take you to your apartment."

On the third landing we took a breather. Being wrapped up by Buffy, I took a moment to whisper in her hear.

#Your eyes are a molten river of gold, promising riches and a fiery death# I sang to her softly in Old Kingdom Hittite. It was original poetry.

"What was that?" she smiled.

"I'm not sure I can tell you," I stifled a yawn. "This whole translation thing wasn't explained to me. I can tell you it was a line of a love poem I created only for you."

"Oh...could you repeat it?" So I repeated it, quietly - this was still a secret language - on each landing until Buffy felt she got it right.

Odette answered the door - oh joy. Buffy turned brittle angry while Odette drank in the whole scene.

"Who is this?" Buffy snapped.

"This is Odette. Odette, this if Buffy, one of my bosses."

"Buffy, Odette is the woman who brings solace to my nights, drives off the pains of the day and comforts me in the first lights of the morning with a smile and a word," I said by way of introductions. I didn't call her my girlfriend and still kept her happy.

"Oh God, Cáel, what happened to you?" Odette worried.

"An important life lesson," I frowned. "Lawn darts and jello shots don't mix." I knew this to be true as I had something similar to this happen to a good friend. Since he was hit by a woman neither one of us 'was sleeping/had been sleeping' with, we assumed she was intoxicated. We took him to the hospital then I fucked her in the parking lot.

Later she, me and the victim had a three-way to ease her regrets. The next four three-ways were just because. Unfortunately, his girlfriend wasn't as forgiving. Back in the hospital parking lot, once we knew he'd be okay, I fucked his girlfriend too. Yes, I am morally irreprehensible.

"What really happened?" Odette fretted as she helped Buffy get me to the sofa.

"He cheated on me so I marked him as my territory," Buffy snarled.

"But he's your employee," Odette gasped. "Isn't that immoral?"

"Immoral? Child, men exist solely to pleasure women and carry heavy things," Buffy grumbled.

"Carry heavy things..." Odette mused. "He's carrying something heavy all the time," she snickered.

"I hate you," Buffy snapped. I wasn't sure who that was aimed at.

"Why - wait, he's not having sex with you, is he?" Odette sounded surprised. "Wow, you are really missing out." Buffy gave off her nearly subsonic jaguar growl. "I haven't had too much experience," Odette blithely continued on, "but - Wow - I'm having orgasmic tremors up to eight hours after every nightlong sex session with Cáel. It's wild."

Buffy grabbed my hair and twisted things until I was looking into her blazing hate/lust-filled eyes.

"Monday morning - seven o'clock - you're mine," she growled. She turned to leave.

"What? No good-bye hug?" I pleaded hopefully. I received a deep animalistic noise and a door slammed in our faces.

"Odette, is there any way I could convince you for some 'intensive care' sex?" I gave her puppy-dog eyes. Odette responded by helping me off the sofa and aiming us toward the bedroom. There was a loud pounding on the door.

"Odette, stay here. She's violently unstable," I cautioned my buddy. I hobbled to the portal.

"I want my hug," Buffy glared as I opened the door.

"Fine. Remember, this is purely platonic," I kept it cool. "Now put your hands behind your back."

"What? No, I won't," she snarled.

"Buffy, I'm sort of fragile right now and you are a big bully," I cautioned her. Buffy's whole body trembled. Had she spontaneously developed heat ray vision, my brain would have been incinerated on the spot. Buffy finally linked her hand behind her back. I gently pressed my body against hers, brushing her hair behind her shoulders then tilting her jaw up.

"I don't like making you unhappy, or disappointing you, Buffy," I whispered. "I apologize." I didn't kiss her. That was technically against the rules. Slow, persistent puffs of breath played along her shoulder, neck ears, cheeks and forehead in lieu of my forbidden kiss. Buffy's vexation at the lack of oral contact faded as the hot, moist sensations of my exhalations upon her flesh played out.

She quickly caught on that she could tilt her neck around to offer up places she found especially enticing, eventually leading me to her cleavage.

"Have a nice weekend," I told her when I was done.

"78 days...Cáel. 78 days," Buffy's eyes shone like solar flares of lust. She left.

The door shut, I turned around and Odette gave me a horny, beseeching lament. She'd been masturbating while I had been not-kissing Buffy.

"I need you," she moaned. I limped her way.

"I'm not sure..." I got out before she overwhelmed me.

"I'll help," she squealed. She dragged me across the room before tossing me on my new bed. Hmmm...new sheets...and the room looked really clean...sex. Odette would hurt me, make amends then try even harder to make me happy. It wasn't my best experience with sex, but far from my worst.

For example: don't let yourself get tied down when you suspect your bedmate is unhappy with you because she's found out you've also been doing her friend. At least make sure her friend isn't at home and in on the revenge too. Don't apologize, beg for mercy, or say you love them. No, take your lumps like a man, admit you are lower than low, and that you deserve whatever they deem appropriate.

A terrifying first night. The next two were among the best I ever had...until the next weekend.

Odette helped me clean up and changed the sheets all by herself. She was a wonderful girl and I hoped she'd meet somebody who appreciated her and wasn't like me. Odette informed me that Timothy and Nikita would be showing up around 4 pm.

Timothy had also told her he and I had a double date tomorrow night so she promised to call me Monday to see how I was doing...and whatever. With a wink, Odette also passed along that Timothy claimed all the toys in my room were his, except for the bondage suspension gear - which was untried - hint, hint.

Wait a second - wasn't this the same girl who thought a lone dildo was pressing the sexual envelope on Thursday? I kissed Odette and sent her on her way. I noticed the Nerf gun. I contemplated hiding the damn annoyance then I realized he'd only shoot/throw something harder. I decided to wear my Havenstone t-shirt (one size too small) that came with my recruitment packet and some gym shorts because jeans and the wrapping on my thigh didn't mesh.

Nikita showed up first and a bit early. Maybe she was trying to catch me shooing another girl out the door. I didn't ask.

"Hey Nikita," I greeted her with a kiss.

"Hey Cáel - what happened!" she gasped, taking in my bandaging. I had thought about my response.

"I was at an archery range this morning and was shot," I related.

"Did you report this?" she began her interrogation.

"My insurance will cover this and 'no', there is no police incident report," I answered.

"Why not?" she glared.

"I work for the Amish Mafia, Nikita. If I talk to the cops, you are going to be looking for me under the next barn raising," I joked. Nikita was not amused in the slightest.

"We need to take care of this," she demanded.

"How about this - someone tried to murder me this morning. Not a single person I was with raised a finger to save me," I exhaled.

"I didn't die for a few reasons. One is the three girls coming over here tonight. Another is that a few women find me charming enough to keep me around. Lastly, they know that I know I'm a corpse if I make a break for it," I explained. "Now, I'd truly prefer you think I'm making this shit up to sound insane, or trying to impress you."

"You are not...insane, or making that shit up," she muttered. "I still can't date a criminal."

"Barring carrying an unauthorized firearm loaded with blanks, I've been good," I grinned.

"That's a crime," Nikita groaned then pressed into me. "Why do I put up with you?"

"You are most likely the best woman I'll ever meet?" I offered. She hugged me.

"I'd say that you are only saying that to get into my pants except you're desperately trying to not get into my pants," she sighed. "How do I fix this?"

"Fix? I'm not sure this can be fixed. If you want to help, remind me love is stronger than hate, no one is irredeemable, and people can change for the better," I murmured.