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

*There is nothing wrong being a Lucky Bastard. It is wrong to rely on it*

(Monday later)

Buffy had finally dismissed me when Katrina summoned me to her office. Ignoring me getting into an altercation...in the Full-Blood gym...yet again, I had a good day. No property damage, lost items, or physically damaged employees. Ragged by most people's standards, but a good day for me at Havenstone. I still had a chance to walk out under my own power.

Katrina motioned me to come to her desk. Upon my arrival, she slid a tablet over to me with a single icon on the screen. I tapped it. Aya's face appeared as the vid-mail began. She was glowing. There was tent fabric in the background so I had no idea of her geographic location. I didn't care.

"Hey!" she squeaked. "I'm doing great at camp. I met three girls who are as small as me and we've formed our own squad -- the Fatal Squirts." I chuckled.

I had encouraged her to steal strength from her perceived weaknesses. She had to believe in herself then take that as she built up her skills. I had faith in her when no one else did.

"I showed some of my councilors a picture of you. I think you would get into trouble if you came here. I want you to come, but I thought it was only fair to warn my favorite bed-buddy," she giggled.

"Send me a message when you can. I understand there will be a delay as the messages have to be physically delivered. I know you are doing okay. If not, hold off your vengeance until I can return and guard your back. I love you, Cáel. Be well," she smiled as her picture faded into darkness.

"Ah damn," I whispered. Aya looked good -- confident, upbeat and spirited. "Katrina, can I make a message for her right now?" I begged.

"Of course," she gave me an approving tilt of the head. "I think the courier is still in the building."

"Cool. What do I do?" I urged.

"Use the webcam -- make a message and forward it to my computer," Katrina told me. "I'll take it from there." I made the message, pretty much updating her on my latest exploits with limited editing. Aya was a surprisingly innocent yet worldly 9 year old.

Much of that came from being Katrina's and Desiree's niece -- mainly Katrina's. It gave her access to tidbits of sensitive data from time to time. Not so much she was a real security threat. Enough so that she got some things confused -- like what sex was truly about. I felt in my soul she'd be a great Amazon one day. I didn't remind her of that much. She had enough pressure for a kid her age.

"You are seeing Oneida now?" a frosty voice unnerved me. It was Buffy.

"Fuck," I jumped up. "Damn Buffy, stop sneaking up on me like that, or I'm going to start thinking you are a stalker."

"I am stalking you, Einstein," Buffy menaced.

"I'm glad we got that out of the way," I rolled my eyes. "Oh look! It's Daphne coming to my rescue. I am so out of here," I exulted. I edged passed Buffy, slipped her attempt to grab my arm and raced for the 'new hires' at the elevator.

"Get back here, you Cock-sucker!" Buffy howled as she chased me down.

May miracles never cease. Daphne, Violet and Tigger formed an Amazon (I wasn't sure if I could consider them 'human' yet) shield between my frail form and the hulking brute that was Buffy.

"Calm down, Buffy," Daphne pleaded. "He fought Elsa today -- again."

"Get out of my way," Buffy snarled.

"Thank God you stopped her," I huffed to Dora. "I hope to she never finds out that I soaped up Elsa's entire body while we were sharing a shower together." Daphne turned and gave me an incredulous look.

"Cáel, you are a Dumb-ass," Daphne sighed. Looking to Buffy as she stood aside. "Have at."

"Are you mental?" Fabiola chimed in. The elevator doors finally opened, Buffy shoved me in and the rest of the posse followed. Helena joined us at the last second.

"He's taunting me," Buffy responded to Fabiola while using her middle finger to poke my chest. "At this rate I am going to have to devastate a dozen male escorts so I can make it the remaining the 69 more days until he's mine again."

"Is he really that good?" Paula wondered. Buffy twisted around to confront her.

"He hammered me so hard, I thought he'd dislocate my hips. Later, we spent an entire hour, naked, wrapped up in each other's bodies with no actual penetration -- touching, tasting and whispered affections," Buffy curled her lip. "He's better than you could possibly imagine."

"You realize we have 27 seconds left, right?" I reminded Buffy.

"Really?" Buffy's head snapped back to me. I nodded and she jumped my bones. She had her hand down my pants, pulling on my rod, and the other grabbing the back of my head to deepen our kiss.

For my part, I had my left hand on her breast and the right down the back of her pants, fondling a panty-covered ass cheek. In a culture where you summoned a male, ordered him to perform and he did so the same exact way he'd done a dozen times before, what Buffy and I were doing didn't make sense.

The two of us didn't give up an ounce of control yet meshed perfectly. Our pleasure was obvious, vocal and we didn't give a damn about the crowd around us. Buffy and I had created our own little lust-bubble. The chimer went off. We settled down and straightened up our clothes.

"Fuck it all -- that's some good dicking," Buffy mumbled. That was an inside joke between me, Timothy, my big, gay, buff tattoo-artist roommate, and the few women he chose to share that descriptive with -- 'a good dicking'. We tumbled out of the elevator.

"Is he always like that?" Fabiola mumbled.

"He's a whole lot better with his clothes off," Buffy sneered at Fabiola. Sometimes I'm a super-selfish bastard; I want life to cut me some slack. Waiting for us was Oneida...in biker clothing. That would have merely been bad, dangerous and creepy except I was dressed in work clothes.

I was planning to meet some of the guys (all two of them) for some after-work drinks. The encounter went from not-good to horribly awkward. Oneida had checked up on me, been told how I got to and from work as well as when I left. Unfortunately, she hadn't checked my social calendar -- mainly because I didn't keep one -- sophomore year mistake.

If a girl is in your apartment, she will find the thing you don't want her to find...every single time. I burned my diary and unfriended everybody after that final, hospital-resulting episode.

"Hi," I greeted Oneida. She'd figured out she'd screwed up something fierce. "What bike do you use? I have a Specialized STSE hybrid. Maybe we can use some paths one weekend."

I was trying to diffuse her embarrassment. We were two bikers talking about bikes. Nothing wrong with that.

"I have a Specialized Source..." she got out then realized how BAD that sounded. She had the exact same bike as me...how bizarre? Unless you had somebody come down and take a look at what I bicycle I used.

Time to save the day.

"Do you want to make a date for 6:30 am on Saturday?" I suggested. "Provided this wacky place hasn't offed, or misplaced me by then."

"Ah -- that would be nice," Oneida rebounded happily. "The date, that is."

"Whoa Oneida, what are you doing with this guy?" Brian derided me as he walked up. I wanted to say, 'Brian, you've insulted a princess of the Amazon people. Please continue making an ass of yourself and give Trent and Khalid my regards'. I didn't.

"This is Cáel Nyilas. He's a real player," Brian smirked. "You can do better than him."

Oh yeah, Oneida and Brian were co-workers -- 'new hires' in Acquisitions.

"Brian, it took you three days to even use my name," Oneida gave Brian a neutral stare. "I love Cáel. He saved my life and he sees the real me." For the love of all that's holy, someone shoot me in the head right now. I could hear the nearly subsonic growls emanating from Buffy.

Brian looked at me, laughed and went to put an arm around Oneida's shoulder. After all, if I could pick her up, it should be effortless for him to take her away, right? Dumb-shit. Laughing at me was okay. Laughing at...then I noticed the two chicks in black leather standing about doing their best (until a second ago) to go unnoticed.

Cáel had gotten away with such familiarity because Cáel had risked his life to save their Princess. Brian Fung? He barely knew her name and they worked together. These weren't even SD chicks -- they were something else. My guess was Arinniti House Guard. Did Katrina's House Epona have a house guard?

Sure, I imagine they did. They were probably with the rest of House Epona where ever they lived. It wasn't like the whole kit and caboodle was here in NYC. That would have been foolish. If Caitlyn, Aya's mom, had a security issue, she called us at Havenstone HQ, less than four kilometers away. Without a doubt, Elsa would stop by and kick ass for her.

I gave Brian this much -- he had a working set of eyes. The second those two harbingers of death began closing in, Brian back-pedaled.

"Hey Brian, let's go grab some drinks," I offered him a graceful exit.

"Sounds good," Brian tried to sound cool.

"Oneida, take care," I nodded to my new romantic stalker. "Ladies," to my 'new hire' crew. "Buffy," to my sometimes boss, "remember you are still hot for a...mature chick."

"You are going die a long, torturous and extremely painful death," Buffy sizzled.

"What? Are you going to make me eat your cooking?" I laughed.

Buffy didn't articulate a counter before Brian and I slipped outside.

"Cáel, who was that woman?" Brian whispered.

"Which one? You need to be more specific. My erotic malfeasances are terribly confusing."

"The one you insulted," Brian said. "The last one you insulted," he clarified.

"Buffy. She's one of my bosses," I grinned. "She loves me. She's even promised to play the bagpipes at my funeral. Personally I think that's because she doesn't want to risk anyone hearing me pounding on the coffin lid, trying to get out."

"You are not going to make it the full 84 days with that attitude," Brian lectured me.

"Trent has already been promoted," Brian continued. "I am regularly referred to as indispensable in my work reviews. Felix works closely with Ms. Pharos at all times. You seem to be the only one of us having...issues with Havenstone. Hell, they even shot you and you sat back and took it. I doubt your complacent attitude impressed anyone much."

No mention of poor Khalid. How quickly they forget. Trent had been 'promoted' to Southeast Asia alright. I looked it up; there are around 10,000 islands between Indonesia and the Philippines. Sure some were small spits of land with a few trees. I had little doubt one of the good-sized one was a jungle of a different sort.

Certainly Executive Services sent Trent's belongings somewhere. I'd never tried to find out. What would I have done with the knowledge? Brooke didn't care and I didn't know his family. Brian and I went to the same yuppie bar as last time. I was with Brian this time, so I abandoned him as quick as I could.

Why? At the far end of the bar, talking the bar-back was my Delivery Girl -- aka the person who did the home liquor delivery to Libra's place. Half way down the bar, she sensed me looking at her. The bar-back followed her gaze. He wasn't happy with me. DG simply didn't recognize me so I held up my valise over my groin.

Confusion -- surprise -- acknowledgment that despite our surroundings, I wasn't worried about being seen with her. She had her hand truck -- she had to make a front door delivery this time.

"Remember me?" I smiled.

"Cáel Nyilas -- the Pillow Guy," she snickered. "How did that work out for you?"

The bar-back was broadcasting his displeasure at some upper class smuck cutting in on his action. DG caught that.

"Jason, this is Cáel," she introduced me. "We last met under unusual circumstances."

"What kind of name is Cáel?" Jason remarked.

"An unfortunate one," I snorted. "You try explaining to your kindergarten teacher that it is 'c-a (acute accent)-e-l'. Of course, I wasn't 'Bomophoto' either. She had it worse than I did."

Jason searched me out to see if I was pulling one over on him. I wasn't. Bomo and I bonded over our linguistic misfortune. She moved to Santa Fe in the third grade. I wonder if she grew up to be hot looking. Oink.

"I'll give you that," he chuckled. "Why did you get branded?"

"Mom was Irish, my Dad was in love with her so I got the cultural emersion, minus the Guinness," I shrugged. "By the way..." I looked back to the lady.

"Katy Lee Baker," she batted her eyelashes. We shook hands.

"How did it go?" I picked up her question. "Sex, chopped fruit, your drinks, more sex and back to the clinic before eleven."

"Have you talked to them since?" Katy inquired somewhat seductively.

"Perhaps. I don't like to kiss and tell," I evaded.

"I'm curious because two of the three arrived five minutes before you did and they appear somewhat unhappy with you right now," she smirked. "You can look over your shoulder if you don't believe me." Sure enough, there was Felix, Brian, Brooke, Libra and...I think her name was Gene. I waved then turned back to my current two conversationalists.

"So Jason, what do you like to do?" I asked the guy.

"Huh -- what? I work," he replied.

"I mean bike, try ethnic food, go to the gym -- stuff like that," I teased him.

"I work six days a week...but usually one or two are afternoon shifts. Me and some buddies play some pick-up basketball," Jason told me.

"Great. You'd pick a sport I suck at," I set the bait. If Jason thought I sucked, he'd invite me to play. That's how it worked. I was pretty good at basketball considering I'd spent the last four years playing with girls -- on the court. Girls play some mean ball. They also didn't shy away from putting an elbow into my nuts if they felt like it.

"I'm not sure I live in a neighborhood you'd be comfortable visiting," Jason threw up a roadblock. I had him on this one. I showed him my ID. It had the right address -- wrong apartment number. "Shit dude, that place is about as rough as my home turf."

"I get paid a quarter million a year to taste test for hexafluoride in Chinese imports," I joked.

"Really?" Katy chuckled.

"It's a growth industry -- if you consider tumors to be growth," I was faux-serious.

"Mr. - Cáel," Jason looked over my shoulder. "I think one of those chicks is about to come over here and kill you. You best hop to it."

"Which one? The brunette, or the russet-colored (Libra)?" I inquired.

"The brunette wants attention and the russet wants to push a red hot poker up your ass," Jason gave me his experienced opinion. Heading over there was going to be 'fun'.

"Give me a call some time, Jason. Nice to see you again, Katy Lee," I waved good-bye.

"You know the staff here?" Libra spat.

"That was the girl who delivered the liquor to your place, Libra," I sighed. "I said 'hi'."

"It takes you an awful lot of words to say 'hello'," Brian gave a false smile. Libra was positioned next to Brian. Her anger with me plus his 'sexy' put her there.

Brooke shifted as I joined their chair-less center table. She was putting enough distance between us to show everyone she was independent yet close enough to give warning signs to other woman that I was in her sights, if not her outright possession. I was better looking than Brooke had counted on. More 'fun' was coming down the pipeline.

Gene was here on another date with Felix, or so she thought. Poor Gene. Felix was most likely an excellent fuck. What she didn't appreciate was that Felix was not only a competitor, he was the kind of athlete who had to win. Second place was what you called the first loser. Gene was about to be educated in this personal idiocentricity.

Now that I was on stage, Felix made his move on Brooke. Gene? He'd let her in on a three-way if he was feeling personally Hernán Cortés-like. Felix had to have Brooke. I hadn't dumped Brooke, according to Gene, so he wasn't getting my castoffs -- he was stealing my prize. The flaw in this plan was my whole viewpoint on monogamy. I didn't much care for it. Brooke was a grown woman and could make her own choices.

Felix made his move. Damn, he was smooth. He had Brooke wrapped up and pulled tight without Gene even being aware she'd been dumped. Enter the train wreck named Nicole. She was the criminal defense attorney who I'd fucked in a stall in the women's bathroom of this place. She hadn't tried to contact me and I hadn't worried about her. Hook-ups were like that.

She'd been close by, respecting Brooke's signs and not stopping by to say hello. Then Felix launched his master plan and I was suddenly freed up. Nicole had gotten a rough fucking and liked it, I could tell.

"Cáel Nyilas," Nicole swooped in. "How have you been?"

"The normal. Menace to society, disrespectful of authority and being annoying to random strangers," I teased. "You?"

"I'm a lawyer fighting the irresistible lure of evil. The usual," she joked back. "What have you been doing wrong? As I recall, last time you were doing everything right?"

Yes, a good dicking indeed. I was going to relate this encounter to Timothy just so he could shoot me with his Nerf gun. He'd shoot me anyway, but it was nice of me to give him an excuse from time to time.

"I've been sending sexually suggestive letters to ADA Feinstein," I offered. "Does that count?"

"Oh really?" she seemed surprised. "Why don't you come by my table real quick and let me introduce you to some of my colleagues." I wasn't going to be rude.

"Gang, this is Nicole," I introduced her to my table. "She's an attorney at a prestigious law firm that probably has more dead partners than living ones and offices in Papua New Guinea and a few dozen other places you've never heard of. I'll be right back."

"You are a nut," Nicole bumped me as we weaved our way to her buddies. "Ladies, this is Cáel Nyilas. I think I mentioned him once." By the looks on their faces, once had been enough. "This is Zelda, Marsha, Phyllis, and Rivka -- Rivka Feinstein, ADA for New York County," (that's Manhattan for us hicks).

"Ah crap," I exclaimed. That wasn't what they expected.

"I confess," I looked at Nicole, "I saw the name in an article on the back of the Village Voice. Sadly, they had R. Feinstein and I stupidly assumed it was a guy."

"Oh my God! You're gay?" Zelda and Phyllis despaired.

"While my life would a whole lot easier if I was, I'm straight -- not even bi-curious. My roommate, Timothy -- never Tim -- is and he was reading it while I was working out. It sort of stuck in my mind," I admitted.

"How did my name come up in conversation?" Rivka inquired.

"Cáel is a pathological liar," Nicole teased me.

"Not true," I protested. "I'm allergic to excessive honesty. That's totally different."

"I'd like to put you on the witness stand," Zelda gave me those bedroom eyes.

"You and about a 150 other women," I groaned.

"150?" Rivka choked.

"Yep. The rest already know I'm guilty," I muttered.

"Are you of weak moral fiber?" Phyllis joined the game. We were all having a blast.

"Sorry, but no. I'm saving up for some. Currently I'm without morals...or scruples. Any suggestion which one I should purchase first?"

"You are a great guy," Rivka snickered. "Why aren't you dating somebody?"

"Shall we revisit my lack of morals and scruples?" I answered.

"So you are a player?" Nicole nudged me. She wanted to play alright.

"How to put this...I'm a wonderful lover and a lousy boyfriend," I told them.

"I was an eighteen year old virgin. In the past four years, I have betrayed every woman I've ever dated, save one -- my first love," I explained.

"Why didn't you betray her?" Phyllis prodded. "Don't tell me she's dead."

"No, she's fine," I replied. "She was the one who told me to date other women."

"That's harsh," Zelda commiserated. She thought Kimberly had dumped me.

"Oh no," I corrected her. "We stayed together until I graduated last month. Four of the best years of my life. When she told me to date other women it was because I was killing her. I have a voracious sexual appetite and she was desperate for a full night's sleep."

"Do you ever go home alone?" Marsha joined in.

"Does leaving a woman's house at 1 a.m. count?" I requested.

"Did she throw you out?" Rivka interrogated.

"No. She and her sister were exhausted so I picked up my roommate and left," I exaggerated.

"Wait!" Nicole held up her hand. "Sisters...and you told us your roommate was gay?"

"Morals and scruples," I repeated. "See, I was dating one sister and the other sister wanted a date so I talked my gay roommate into being my wingman so I wouldn't end up sleeping with them both. It didn't work out so well. The second, older sister was horny, so my guy pretended to pass out."

"Have you ever considered you are a horrible person?" Marsha studied me.

"Yes. Not only have I thought about, I've been told that a few dozen times. It usually is accompanied by 'I'm going to kill you', or 'you had better make it up to me'."

"Have you ever been hurt?" Phyllis appeared concerned.

"My body is a roadmap of poor decision making," I responded.

"What was the worst thing to ever happen to you?" Rivka grinned. Her ability to be deceptively pretty had to have made her a frightening lawyer.

"When they were happening, I was a bit more concerned with what might happen to me as opposed to rating them," I informed her.

"Except for being shot with an arrow, being chased around naked with a hot poker and having my bed dowsed with lighter fluid while I was still in it were probably the worst," I nodded. "I've been stabbed a few times, tasered, occasionally thrown out of a window not on the first floor and had bookcase dropped on me once, so I consider myself a connoisseur of ex-girlfriend vengeance."

"Have you ever been involved with a police proceeding?" Rivka became a tad bit more intense.

"Nah," shook my head. "I had it coming. As you said, I'm kind of a horrible guy."

"Domestic violence is no joking matter," Nicole also became serious.

"That's unfair," I countered. "I'm not so slavishly devoted to the law that I'd ruin some girl's life because I was a total bastard."

"Domestic Violence laws are supposed to protect the innocent from the abusive," I added. "I haven't lied to you about my misadventures, but you should understand I chose to handle most of my problems myself. By the looks on your faces, you are about as disappointed in me as the policewoman I am currently seeing. This is who I am and I'm not going to apologize for it."

"Mind you, I'm not some gun-toting, roughneck Libertarian," I clarified. "I believe in law, order and the justice system. If someone pulls out an AK-47 on me at a corner bodega, I'm making 9-1-1 my bitch on speed-dial. I don't want to be a hero, or fulfill my organ donor card. I just don't equate that to a girl kneeing me in the nuts because I slept with her best friend in her lingerie."

There was a pause as the ladies looked around. They were making an assessment of how much trouble I'd cause versus how much fun I would be. They all smiled at me. They always do.

"Who was wearing the lingerie?" Zelda smirked.

"I've worn women's lingerie before, but it really wasn't my thing," I mused.

"I'll go through a lot for good sex," I winked. "It was my girlfriend's lingerie on her best friend."

"Wait," Rivka noted. "Didn't the best friend know you were dating the first girl?"

"Yeah. I'm not sure why that never stops them," I shrugged. "Around the fifth time I stopped worrying about it."

"Wow, do you have any idea how many women you've been with?" Rivka asked.

"Do you always use protection?" Phyllis piled on.

"Yes -- 223 as of Friday. I'm hoping to break 300 before work replaces me with those guys from 'Hamster Dance'," I told them. "And yes, I always use protection."

"I may not know where my partner has been, but I know where I've been and it scares me," I snickered. "That's why I always carry ten."

"Ten?" Nicole snorted. "Do you regularly check the expiration date, or are you that ambitious?"

"Ambitious? I'd carry more except it's hard to hide more than ten in a wallet -- I've tried," I sighed.

"Have you ever run out?" Marsha snickered. Our snickering, chuckling and laughter were drawing stares.

"Run out? Hell, I've gone door to door in a women's dormitory at 2 a.m. trying to find some," I related. "Ran into an old girlfriend doing that." I slipped into a dreamy smile.

"Why do I think that despite it being 2 a.m. in her dorm with you seeking a condom for use with a different woman, she wasn't pissed?" Rivka giggled.

"Oh God no," I waved off. "She was freaking furious. That was some of the most intense 'I'm lonely and it's all your fault' sex I have ever been through."

"You have names for different kinds of sex?" Nicole was almost crying from laughing so hard.

"Oh yeah. The first time I run across a different sexual experience, I slap a name on it so when it happens again, I know what to do," I explained.

"Isn't every woman unique?" Zelda sniffled.

"That sounds nice in a love song, but 'no'," I smiled. "Women, and men, have a finite number things -- needs and responses. Women can have different erogenous zones, but there all on the human body. Admittedly, it can be a bit like predicting the weather at times. It is not a perfect system by any means."

"What's my 'thing' then?" Nicole taunted. She didn't think I could do it.

"Sex has to be an accomplishment with you, Nicole," I informed her. "You need to be engaged mentally as much as anything else. You need a poet who runs marathons. Otherwise you end up staring at the ceiling after sex wondering what better use you could have made of your time."

Silence. That was the norm for that kind of revelation. Women hated to be laid bare. They hated being misunderstood even more.

"Nicole?" Rivka prodded her friend. Nicole remained silent. I knew that look.

"Nicole, I'm bad news. Wouldn't you prefer to keeps thing simple?" I hoped.

I was wrong to hope. I kept praying they would go 'hey, great, mindless sex -- let's not blow it', but they never did. I hated giving lame erotic encounters, despite the guarantee of anguish that always followed.

"We could go out on a date and see how that works?" Nicole offered. Doom.

"Cáel Nyilas; I'm in the book and I work for Havenstone Commercial Investments," I stupidly replied. "You probably have a killer workload were as I spot-check children's toys for WMDs. Give me a call when you have a night free." How was it going to turn out? Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex -- let's make a commitment -- you cheating fuck-nut! I hate you.

Girls weren't predictable -- I was.

"Cáel, we are going out to dinner, if you remember who you are supposed to be with," Libra seethed as she and the others passed Nicole's table.

"Yup, gotta go where I'm not wanted. Nice seeing you again, Nicole," I grinned. "Ladies, I hope it was a pleasure. It was for me. Good night."

Dinner -- was -- bad. Felix, hemorrhoid that he was, squashed Gene's feeble attempts to draw him back to her as he made crystal clear that he was taking Brooke home -- to fuck her into Paradise...instead of letting her go home with me. Problem being -- Brooke wasn't mine to take -- never had been.

For the first time in his life, I thought Brian was about to be screwed. Libra was past uber-bitchy by the fifth glass of wine. Brian held a pair of Jokers and thought he was the boss, like always. Libra had four Queens and would be screaming my name when she orgasmed -- Brian was sexually proficient. He was also a misogynist, I was now sure, and Libra was going to make him squeal.

Then she was going to grab up her clothes, storm out of Brian's place and never want to talk with him again. It wasn't that I was that unforgettable. I was that I knew what she wanted and had given it to her and not getting it Saturday afternoon while Brooke did was frosting her ass. What did that mean for me?

For the first time in a long, long time, I was pissed with another guy. Trent really wasn't worth my time, but Felix was about to cross my here-until-now unforeseen line of what guys did to girls. It was dawning on me that this was the result of me. Someone was doing something wrong to a girl because of me. It wasn't my fault. Felix was being a jerk.

That would be of cold comfort for Brooke. We split up after dinner. I didn't have the heart to pick up Gene, who was easy prey right then. It was too much like what Felix thought he was doing to me. I took a cab to Havenstone, changed clothing and biked home. I barely had dinner ready for Timothy when he came through the door.

"That's not a look I'm used to seeing," he remarked.

"I should have beaten someone up," I frowned, "but I didn't and now some girl -- Brooke -- is going to have her heart kicked because of it."

"Was it something you did?" Timothy asked.

"No. There is this guy at work who is using her to alpha-dog me," I muttered.

"Brooke?" Timothy was confused. "You hardly like her. What a sleaze (Felix). If it was Odette, first I'd slap you around for still being here. Then we'd go get him."

"I'm not even sure why I feel bad about this," I grunted. "As you said, I hardly like her."

"It is called a conscience, Dimwit," Timothy snorted. That didn't help much. Conscience? Man, I'd stop my bike to run across a highway to move a tortoise off the road. I used to feed some of the Bolingbrook wild hares during the winter. I did humiliating crap for charity. I was never mean to a girl -- only dishonest and unfaithful.

Introspection got me nowhere. I was a cad. I'd been happy to be a cad for four years. I was going to be damned if my post-college life was going to be any different -- all 68 remaining days of it. In my bedroom I discovered Odette had moved in during my absence. I doubted Timothy had been ignorant of all the stuff she deposited. What was going on with my life?

I woke up when I heard keys in the door. It was a bit past eleven. I got up to check and sure enough, it was Odette. Timothy had given her a key. Odette had lived through a harrowing night, her boss was a dick and some of the customers were pure hell. I cuddled with her on the sofa while she unwound then we went to bed together. We didn't have sex...

(Tuesday)

Around 1 a.m. I miraculously found myself awake and alert in bed. Odette was happily dreaming away. Something was gnawing at the back of my mind. I put a name to the emotion and a face to the fear. I called Brooke.

"Hey Brooke," I greeted her eight tries later. She was tired of sending me to voice mail.

"What do you want?" she answered in a voice devoid of soul.

"Fuck if I know," I replied. "I suddenly woke up from a sound sleep thinking of you."

"I'm not interested," she sighed.

"I'm going to go out on a limb here. You don't want to talk to anyone yet you want someone to help you understand what you are going through," I gambled.

That created a tiny tear in her shroud of depression. After five minutes, I got her to give me her address. She told me she wouldn't answer the door. I told her I at least had to try. That got me to her place, 90 seconds of knocking got me inside and four minutes later, we were lying in bed with her sobbing on my chest.

Half an hour later, she offered me sex. I told her to stop tempting me and if she only wanted me for sex, I wanted to be paid in chocolate. She giggled, took a few deep breaths and fell to sleep. Wow, I was in two different women's beds in one night and not having sex in either. My watch alarm went off at 4:50 a.m. That meant no 'Marilyn' call tonight.

"Mmmm..." Brooke moved toward wakefulness. "Work?"

"Afraid so," I yawned.

"We haven't had sex," he reminded me. I couldn't stop being me.

"That's not why I came over here, Brooke," I rolled onto my side so that our bodies were very close.

"Never think I don't want to have sex with you, but that's not why I showed up last night," I continued.

"Why did you show up then?" she worried.

"I have no clue. I'm like Felix -- a player. Listen Brooke, I don't consider you my woman," I stated.

"We had sex -- we are lovers, but we've been thrown together by dire misfortune, not out of any common thread," I reminded her. "I don't expect you to have any sense of loyalty to me." That phrase freed her up philosophically. That meant she could fuck me and not feel obliged to consider and discard any future for us because there was no realistic future that socially glued us into any acceptable form.

"So I needed a shoulder to cry on and you showed up," she mused.

"Brooke, you are independent and strong-willed. The next guy you chose will be your choice," I led her along. "Felix though -- Felix is a serious player and he felt the need to add you to his list of conquests. I saw it happening and did nothing. Now I feel like crap for sitting back and ignoring the consequences."

"You knew Felix would turn me into a hash mark?" Brooke seemed depressed, not angry.

"I knew he was trying to get at me," I confessed. "He didn't accept that you and I aren't an item. A blonde co-worker -- a high ranking supervisor actually -- treated him like a bug in the communal showers yesterday while keeping close contact with me. Felix had to win. He had to show me he is the top dog."

"And I was the prize?" Brooke moped.

"Not to me," I whispered. Brooke looked hurt. "You are a woman. While you would look delectable in a big red ribbon, that's not who you are. I don't keep hash marks. I have a thing called a heart cord and it is solely for my use. Each binding represents a liaison -- like a Quipus; an Incan memory knot."

Brooke really didn't care. It sounded neat, it was romantic and the act was not demeaning to her. I could savor the memory of our encounter as long as I didn't share it with my buddies. She wasn't one of 'those' girls.

"You are very intelligent," she murmured seductively.

She didn't care if I was the reincarnation of Benjamin Franklin, or some schmo in Afghanistan who made his living digging up (hopefully) spent ordinance of battlefields. Smoking hot, sexy, well-educated debutantes like Brooke could fuck finely-sculpted, 'smart' guys like me. She could delude herself that I was rapidly upwardly mobile. My turn.

"Brooke, I don't want to get mixed up about us," I evaded. 'Us'? There was no 'us' and we both knew it. "If I caved in right now, I'm not sure I could forgive myself." Yes I could.

"I just want to feel like someone gives a damn about me," Brooke whimpered. Good acting. We wrestled around -- me trying to leave, but clearly not wanting to, while she physically enticed me.

We ended up, me on top, pinning her wrists to either side of her head. Her legs were trapped between mine.

"Make it up to me...please," she pouted. She humped her pelvic bone playfully against my cock. "I know you want to help me out." Good word usage on her part.

"Brooke, this isn't going to happen," I gritted my teeth in frustration. Yes, it was going to happen. Her right leg began exerting steady pressure against my 'weak' left leg. It slowly 'surrendered' to her advance. Now she had on leg on the outside. My right leg held out a little longer yet Brooke was persistent.

Now she could ground her finely groomed landing strip against my pulsating rod. I really, really wanted to fuck her now. I took my hands off her wrists, turned them into fists and placed the beneath each of her underarms.

"Damn you," I cursed her. Brooke was gyrating her crotch all over mine.

With her hands released, Brooke could leverage her body up and trap my cockhead between her labia. They were thoroughly soaked with her honey so after my 'capture' she drew more and more of my length in until I was completely incased. Brooke had won! She knew she'd won. Fuck Felix and his hash marks. I didn't care so why should she?

I made on last energetic yet futile effort to get away. Oddly, Brooke somehow end on top at the end of my exertion. I must be an awful wrestler...

"No you don't," Brooke purred only millimeters from my lips. "You are not getting away." That was Brooke tossing good ole Felix under the emotional bus.

Felix the Player? She'd chalk it up to too much to drink and the hype being more than the man. How was this possible? Look at her. She'd thrown a known sexual dynamo down on her bed and was working his shaft over every G-spot in her vagina. Brooke still preferred a long, rough fucking to get her off. At the moment, she need reassurance more.

Felix most assuredly made Brooke ride him. He kept her perpendicular to his hips and came up to suckle her teats when he wanted to, or watch them bounce as he lay back. He was great at sex, no doubt. The girl had to scream and howl -- forgetting every other male she was ever with and making every other guy she'd be with later an automatic failure. To him, that was how he rated success.

This resulted in me keeping Brooke close so I could make quick kisses to her very close lips. She'd playfully pull away -- to put me in my place and remind me she was in charge -- then she'd initiate the kiss. Our love-making was more rhythmic; less frantic. She was getting close.

"Next...next time you fuck Felix," I gasped. "Tell him..."

"What makes -- makes you think I'd -- every sleep with him -- again?" Brooke got feisty.

"I bet he was good in bed and now that you have his measure," I assured her. "You can take what pleasure you want and leave." Brooke liked that. It was the whole independent woman thing.

"Won't you be jealous?" she panted.

"I cannot constantly keep up with your sexual desires, Brooke," I grunted. "I've been neglecting Libra." Oh yeah, Libra. The girl she, Brooke, initially set me up with. Her Vassar classmate.

"What about Felix," she huffed and huffed. She was real close.

"Off-handedly comment that he's developing male pattern baldness," I grinned. "Just to fuck with his head." Felix was gorgeous. Better yet, Felix knew he was gorgeous. Hit him where it hurts. Brooke tried to giggle, but the surge of triumph overcame her and off she went. The problem was I was getting close and I didn't have a condom on.

"Brooke," I inhaled deeply. She'd come to rest on my chest. "I'm about to..."

"Oh," she sighed happily. She reversed to the side as she slithered down my body. My cock went down her throat and I started petting her flank. Brooke wasn't the very best, but, man o man, she was going to town on my dick.

There was no doubt in my mind that her vaginal secretions didn't bother her. I had to rush the experience because if I was late to work, Constanza make me stand beside the targets while she shot at them. If she was really pissed, she'd have me hold up targets in front me instead. I shot off, Brooke caught it all in her mouth then spit it into two tissues before tossing them in the trash.

I caught her look. Trent and now Felix made her swallow. I didn't care; which was yet another choice Brooke was free to make when making love to me. I jumped her. We had a little, tickle-nibble fight that ended in some kisses. I had to leave and Brooke made sure she was poised extra-sexy the last time I turned around to say goodnight and cut off the lights.

"Ah damn," I moaned before I left. I didn't really like Brooke yet, by choosing to engage her in sex, I had accepted the task of making her happy. That was the reason Felix and I were going to fight. He'd use another human being to strike at me instead striking at me directly. To me, this was more than low character, it was an insult to my lifestyle.

Felix should have checked his baggage at the door. Competing for the same lady was fine -- even fun. Picking one to punish another...not cool. I had to think about my response as I barely made it in for my Constanza time. Wisely, I left my baggage at the door. These were firearms we were dealing with -- a danger to me and the people around me.

I was in my biking outfit today. More looks. The decision was that I'd go for my Glock-22, a .38 Ruger LCR back-up, a South Korean-made shotgun that looked like an M-16 and a very unhealthy looking device called a Heckler & Koch UMP 40 (which I had never even heard of). Wait...it got worse. I was scheduled for knife fighting training at 3 p.m. -- every day for the foreseeable future.

Constanza didn't want to help me breath, much less train. That was okay. I left my shirt in the weapons' room so the second I hit the shooting booth Magical Amazon Fey appeared to impart their wisdom, and body shapes to me. Oh God! I dropped a clip between my feet. The two ladies nearly head-butted in a race to get.

The loser frowned. The winner was able to determine my ankles were strong, my calves were implant free -- guys do that occasionally, and my thigh was definitely recovering. Without a doubt, my rod was happy to feel her hand. I retrieved my magazine from her unresisting hand. Then I did some shooting. With three clips I proved to be faster yet less accurate, more accurate yet slower and lastly a balance between the two.

I wasn't better than yesterday. It was yesterday. I did marginally worse with the .38 Ruger, better with the shotgun and I had a blast with the H&K. Was I accurate? NO...but this killing machine was loads of fun to fire off a clip at full-auto. According to 'my' Amazons I looked so adorable pouting when I was told I'd fired off the last magazine. I repeat -- loads of fun.

Amazons are a dedicated martial culture, I was definitely a delicious male bouncing up and down gleefully while begging 'Fuck Me! Fuck Me!' Not actually. I was enthusiastically asking for another clip, but I could tell how my words were being echoed inside their brains.

"Behave yourself, Male!" Constanza snapped angrily. I fell on my knees, hands presented in supplication.

"Please, please, please, please," I begged.

"Oh, give him another magazine," two of my shooting companions requested.

"I can't believe we are in the same unit," Constanza sneered, "rubbing against him like over-drunk un-casted." Hmmm, that probably meant teenagers -- before they chose a profession.

"Constanza, they are all aggressive, dominant members of the Host," I rose (verbally) to their defense. "They are not afraid of their sexuality and they are certainly not afraid of me. What are they doing wrong? They are helping me concentrate (totally false) on the task at hand. I would think you would be pleased that I'm receiving such encouragement, meaning you are more likely to succeed at your task."

"You don't even know why you are here," she glared.

"I imagine you are here for the same reason I am -- to serve our superiors," I replied. "Do you think that I don't want to sleep in an extra hour...," I looked to my new buddies, "Okay, I used to want to sleep in that extra hour, but the point is the same."

"These are our hours. Why not make the most of it as opposed to letting the circumstances make us miserable?" I reasoned.

"Constanza," Naomi, the only shooting buddy to give me a name so far, "you are out of line. He is on our side now and he has the battle scars to prove it."

"Never," Constanza growled out her challenge.

"That is not your decision to make," Naomi met that challenge. "He is down here. He is courageous, loyal and undaunted."

"Besides, if you hate him that much, getting a hunting license for him like the rest of us."

Fantastic (sarcasm), I was popular with Amazonia's professional military.

"Just remember, I get to hunt you ladies right back," I grinned. They thought that was funny. "If I capture you, you are mine all-weekend long -- yummy. Then, on Monday, it's back to normality and me running for my life."

"Do you really think you can take any of us?" Naomi chuckled. The others laugh. Even Constanza was darkly amused.

"Let me see...I was never a Boy Scout, I'm not ex-military, or even a backwoodsman," I mused. "Still, I never thought I'd be shot with an arrow, or stabbed with a spear either, so I'm actually upbeat about my chances."

"Besides, I'm going to wear a black bear suit as camouflage." Pause. "Damn it. I probably shouldn't have told you that," I grimaced. More chuckles.

"I've watched ummm...Dual Survival...most of one episode...I've been so lost in the wilderness to the point I couldn't see the road...I've made love to a Park Ranger...I've been so drunk that I hunted a grown moose with a ballpeen hammer...that's about it for me."

"I am going to enjoy being the first one to catch you," Naomi purred.

"Be careful, Naomi," I cautioned her. "I'm part lemur. It was the same experiment that made Constanza part Tasmanian Devil -- those are some cranky-ass bitches."

"Are you really going to run fast?" another Amazon teased me.

"Hell yeah," I nodded as I stood. No extra magazines for me today. "I'm going to pick some compass point and run at it with everything I have."

"You are lying," Naomi nudged me. They weren't pissed; this was 'warfare' thus deception was not only allowed, it was expected.

"Without a hint of regret," smiled at her. We were suddenly really close again. "I may run, I may hide, or I may double back. That is the prey's advantage." This was fine to the ladies around me. I was prey. I was fine with being prey. I was having fun being prey which made the promised encounter to be new and exciting.

Amazons didn't hunt turtles -- they hunted dangerous things that hunted other things. Was I dangerous? Constanza was a living testimonial of that -- the scar just above her left elbow. This didn't imply respect and acceptance -- no way, no how. It was impossible to believe I would ever replace one of...craptastic. Katrina was too damn smart -- far smarter than me for sure.

I wouldn't have figured it out this soon except for something Oneida said -- 'The Ash Men'. Who were they and why was calling someone that a good thing? A few more live-fires with a bit of instruction. With all the 'sisters' willing to show me improved stance and firing techniques, Constanza felt the desire to be in another room.

As I was finally departing for my real job, an Amazon with clear Amerindian blood, put a hand to my chest before I could exit out the hallway door.

"How much of disaster is he?" she asked Naomi. I seriously thought about doing a takedown then I reasoned I really didn't want to see Traska's teary-eyed face looking down at my shattered form.

"He's passable for a beginner," Naomi answered.

"What are you talking about?" I protested. "I'm freaking awesome. I point the boom-stick at...whatever you call them...pull that trigger-thingy and the bullets go in a direction that doesn't hurt me. Honestly, this crap is easy." The copper chick grabbed my chin quick as a snake.

"Your opinion was not solicited," she menaced, "you ignorant toad-turd." On second thought -- I hit her. I'm pretty quick too. My fist connected with her diaphragm because she was not only not expecting me to lash out, she masked my movements by having her right limb holding my chin. She recoiled, I assumed my boxing stance and Naomi clubbed me down from behind.

Let's not forget who, what and where I was. I was dogpiled, yanked up then had Bitchy Amerindian chick pop me twice in the gut.

"You are going to be caned for that," she hissed.

"Fuck you!" I shouted back. Fist to the head. That was going to leave a mark.

"I look forward to hearing you scream," she threatened.

"Huh? What? You are still here? Something swished past me and I thought it was you leaving," I joked.

"Do you want to die?" Naomi hissed in my ear.

"Let me go and we'll all find out," I replied.

"Let him go," Bitchy chick ordered. They let me go. That was not a good sign.

"I'm Cáel Nyilas. I -- ah...I'm from the Magyars," I introduced myself.

"I don't care," she glared.

"Fine. Do you want to take this to the mats upstairs, or do you prefer we fight in a room full of firearms?" I asked.

"This won't take long," she assumed a stance I'd never seen before. I didn't know its official name, but it had 'pain' written all over it.

"A little room here?" I prodded the five Amazons standing behind me. My important unknown assailant waved them back to the walls. Constanza was livid, so I could already count this as a victory of sorts. My opponent swiveled on the ball of her left foot. It was a feint. I feinted too -- I acted like I was going to fight. I ran away as she made her low, sweeping kick.

I vaulted the table before she could catch me. Now she had a dilemma. If she came over the top, she'd be limiting her mobility and I was gambling hers was a very fluid style. If she moved around the table...as she did, it gave me time to grab my Glock and some ammo and keep running. I put a bullet in the chamber right as Constanza and her two feminazis drew there 9mms.

I was staring down the sight of my .40 S&W Glock at copper chick. Oh, she wasn't afraid in the least. She was pissed.

"Right, or left?" I inquired.

"Put the gun down, or you are dead!" Constanza commanded.

"I'm confused," I stated calmly. "Do I do what she says (copper chick) -- she is clearly someone important, or do I do what you say, Constanza?"

"PUT IT DOWN!" Constanza screamed. Copper chick waved the guns down slowly.

"Right, or left?" Copper chick inquired. "**** St. Marie," she gave me her name.

Mistress of the Golden Mare had to be something so not good.

"Right, or left earlobe," I explained. "You wanted to see how accurate I am. Here is your chance."

"If you miss, you could kill me," she gave the slightest hint of amusement. Psycho.

"Life is full of tragedies," I sighed. "If it is any consolation, I'd have less than a second to appreciate my many failings."

"Gun," she ordered. I chambered the round out, caught it and handed them both to St. Marie.

"Glock -- 22?" she questioned.

"Mmmm...the woman who taught me to shoot always felt the 9 mm was underpowered and I never felt truly at ease with the .45," I enlightened her.

"You were trained by an outsider woman?" St. Marie asked as she put the gun and bullet on the table.

"Yes. See she was short with this tight gymnast's body and found me inherently untrustworthy, so I used a fake fascination with firearms to seduce her," I related. "It turns out we both received an education."

"Is that why you are here?" she tilted her head to examine me from an owl's angle. "Seduction?"

"Oh God no!" I swore. "This place scares the crap out of me. You are all professional man-killers and I just happen to be a man. Putting a gun in my hand doesn't make me feel safe. No place in this building is safe, but this section is especially lethal."

"Are you brave, or cowardly?" she mused.

"Those are words taken out of context of any given situation. If given an exit from a hopeless fight, I'm out of there. You come between me and someone I really care about, I'll rip out your eyes and skull-fuck you," I grinned. "I am brave and cowardly on my own terms." She punched me in the stomach again.

"I owed you that," she commented serenely. She blocked my left jab, but missed my right upper-cut. Then it was all her. I really couldn't keep track of everything she did to me, but it was over quickly. I was left staring up at the ceiling with St. Marie standing to my side. She offered me a hand up.

"What? Had enough already?" I groaned.

"I have been told you don't have much 'quit' in you," she commented then motioned with her hand once more. I took it and let her pull me to a standing positon.

"Quit? Quitting is something you do at five o'clock," I mumbled.

"Speaking of which -- this had been a blast. Feel free to come down here and kick my ass tomorrow morning. Right now, I'm Katrina's bitch and I need to get going," I weakly joked.

"I'll come with you," St. Marie stated.

"Honestly, I'm already terrified of you. You don't need to rub it in," I declared.

"I am going to see Katrina, where you are is irrelevant to me," St. Marie informed me.

"Oh, in that case, let me slink along in your shadow. By the way, my Christian name is Renfield," I noted seriously. She looked at me as we walked down the hallway.

"I have read Dracula before," she studied me.

"Amazons read!" I gasped. "With all of this colored-coded crap around here, I assumed you were all illiterate."

"You are interesting," she nodded. AH SHIT! Not interesting again. The Amory guards didn't notice either of us. We took the elevator up, stopped at the ground floor to pick Brielle and her companion.

"Hey Cáel," Brielle chuckled. "Where is Naomi?" Turning to St. Marie. "Hi, I'm Brielle. I haven't seen you around here before." St. Marie blinked.

"You are popular," St. Marie mocked at me. Wasn't she kicking my ass three minutes ago?

"I'm the corporate clown. It is a position of great significance here," I grimaced.

"Ladies, this is a recent transfer from the boonies -- Moose Jaw, or someplace like that," I said. "Here name is St. Marie. She'd got some impressive sounding stuff in front of her name. Something about horses." Now the two other girls blinking in surprise.

"We apologize," Brielle and her buddy bowed slightly. "We didn't realize."

"I am sure Cáel's deep reverence was the source of your mistake," St. Marie nodded then, "His wounds don't bother you?"

"Cáel is always getting into a fight with somebody. If it wasn't for our advanced healing arts, he wouldn't be able to stand," Brielle replied.

"Why do you keep getting in fights?" St. Marie looked at me. I was sure she had reports of every altercation I'd been in since starting.

"Life on my knees is hard," I shrugged. "I prefer to stand whenever I can and only bow to the Worthy."

"Me?" St. Marie mused. She wasn't really asking my opinion. That was fantasy.

"Yeah, you qualify. After that upper cut...I'm not sure what you did to me. My eyes don't track that fast. The next thing I was sure of, I was lying on my back and you were staring down at me with the expression of 'do I have a hangnail'," I related.

"You don't have my respect for kicking my ass though," I grinned. "You have my respect because after you administered your lesson, you stopped. Restraint is an undervalued commodity." The door opened. I gave a quick good-bye wave to Brielle and friend.

"Do you think your opinion matters to me," St. Marie posed. I had to think about that.

"Yes," I answered. She studied me. "You are smarter than most, meaning you are far more likely to kill me than your garden variety murderer who works here. You don't respect me, but you acknowledge me. Honestly, it is the best I can hope for right now."

"Does it occur to you that you are too bright?" St. Marie inquired.

"There is no such thing," I replied. "The failing is letting people know how bright you are. Can I ask you something?"

"No."

"I'm asking anyway. Is Elsa okay?" I pressed it. She looked at me again.

"Why do you ask?" St. Marie stopped us outside Katrina's door. I wanted to be smarmy, but I wasn't. Katrina and Elsa deserved better.

"Me being downstairs, you opposed to that and you having a mean, vindictive streak," I answered. "That worries me. Elsa annoys the crap out of me, but I don't want to be the source of any trouble for her."

"You put a hand on Katrina and I don't care which of the 31 Flavors your pony is; we are going at it again," I promised.

"Interesting," she kept studying. "At the Archery range, when the child ran at you, you ran the other way -- why?"

"I draw strength from kindness and love -- something you ladies are sorely lacking in," I expressed. "I owe Katrina my life and I owe Aya my heart. The rest of you are monsters and can burn in hell for all I care."

"Do you consider yourself adopted into House Epona?" she kept quizzing me.

"I have an actually job to do here," I reminded St. Marie. Sigh. "I am not a member of House Epona, the Host, or even a 'Runner'," I said. "I'm a male. I'm one too many flippant remarks, one lady having a bad day, or one political expediency away from death. A few women might speak in my defense, but none of them would stop my execution. That is my reality."

"You should be running away from Havenstone as fast as you can. You are brave, resourceful and have a minute chance of dying a masculine death," she advised me. I laughed.

"When you grow a set of testes we can revisit the issue of male priorities and motivations," I grinned. "Until then, you have your version of loyalty and I have mine."

St. Marie opened the door and went in with me following along. The meeting was in process. We were flashed concerned looks for multiple reasons -- Pony-Goddess St. Marie in her sports bra and boy shorts, me in biker pants, biking shoes and nothing else, and me being late. Katrina gave the two of us a momentary notice then proceeded with her meeting.

"Katrina," St. Marie interrupted. Katrina responded with an icy stare.

"You are interrupting -- make it quick," Katrina stated calmly.

"Then I'll wait until you finish," St. Marie responded with her own false politeness. She randomly meandered around Katrina's office making a nuisance of herself.

I resumed my place in the line-up in time to get my work-review from Katrina. I rocked at my job. Apparently I was purloining corporate resources for a prototype gravity device that would crash the Moon into the Earth. My crime was that my project was over-budget...oh yeah, and I'd end all life on Earth.

"Cáel, I am unsure if I should order you to work harder, or not to try so hard," Katrina worried.

"First off, I apologize for being late and under-dressed today. I meant no disrespect and I have no excuse. I'm being stabbed repeatedly with a knife at three o'clock if that helps?" I offered.

"Really?" Katrina arched an eyebrow.

"Really," I confirmed. "Then I get to carry around one of those cool knives like the rest of this merry band here."

"My breast implants -- I'm going for a respectable 'B' -- go in next Wednesday. Two weeks later and I'm off to Denmark to get my 'franks and beans' cut-off and tucked," I tried to sound serious.

"A few hair extensions and I'll be one of the team for real," I grinned.

"Katrina, why do you put up with this?" St. Marie seethed.

"St. Marie, it is not your station to question me, or my orders," Katrina countered. "Still, a lesson is in order."

"Daphne, do you like working with Cáel?" Katrina regarded her female 'new hire'.

"He is more than funny -- and very attractive," Daphne responded. "He provides insight into life that a normal Amazon wouldn't have access to. He instructs with humor and bravery in equal measure."

"Fabiola?"

"He is a waste of resources best put elsewhere," Fabiola insisted. "He is a source of dissension. We would be better training him and others like him to replace our diseased stock." I took some small level of comfort that the other 'new' hires were almost as offended as I was, though I couldn't show it.

"Tigger?"

"He was a vessel for the will of our ancestors," she replied. "What more proof do we need that he is necessary around here?"

"Does anyone have anything different to add?" Katrina gazed over the others. No one spoke.

"That's why '****' St. Marie," Katrina assumed a dark goddess-like aura. "Now apologize."

"Apologize for questioning you?" St. Marie snorted. "Hardly. You are using my people and my facilities to train a male in a manner not approved of by the Council."

"I have Hayden's permission, but feel free to follow your convictions," Katrina nodded.

"You have a daughter in outdoor training right now, St. Marie. It would be utterly tragic if she experienced a crippling injury," Katrina sighed.

"You wouldn't dare," St. Marie took a few steps toward Katrina who stood up from her desk.

"Dare? Hayden and I have tolerated your intransigence until now," Katrina glared.

"Keep to your beliefs. Now you know the cost of standing in the way of progress," Katrina continued. "We cannot afford to remove you, but we can end your counter-productive thinking at this generation."

"When the Council finds out you've overstepped your bounds it will be the end of you," St. Marie kept coming.

"We are a dying people, St. Marie. Hayden and I are willing to kill as many of you as necessary so that our daughters will have daughters of their own," Katrina stated. "If you want to see who is truly overstepping, recall our oaths. We obey the High Priestess, the Council, our Houses and our duties. I am the Spear in Night and Death. You are the Golden Mare."

"You wage war upon our many enemies. I ferret them out, within and beyond our society," Katrina educated us. "If I determine an Amazon is an enemy, I bring their name to Hayden for a final adjudication of the Ancestors. If the Ancestors deny you, then I must remove the enemy. You know how that goes."

"My daughter is not the enemy," St. Marie spat.

"That is not our place to decide," Katrina gave a feral grin. "You should have been an Augur if you wanted that kind of knowledge. Besides, neither you nor your daughter are under sentence of death. She can live a long full life without an eye...or an arm."

St. Marie fidgeted, contemplating violence.

"Everyone, but Cáel leave," Katrina ordered. St. Marie was staying as clearly intended. After Dora shut the door, Katrina added, "Touch my male again, and I'll do something worse to you."

"What I do to a male shouldn't matter," St. Marie growled.

"The New Directive matters to us all and I think Cáel Nyilas will be the only one to pass the first round of the program, so Hayden thinks he matters -- as do I," Katrina glared right back.

"He hit me," St. Marie grumbled.

"After you grabbed his jaw like you would an unruly child," Katrina countered.

"He was a rebellious male," Copper Horse chick kept coming.

"St. Marie, where did you confront him? It wasn't a basket weaving class -- it was a firing range," Katrina sighed in exasperation. "Cáel being on the range was the reason you came here. Why did you manhandle him?" A pregnant pause followed.

"I was an hour late so I missed his practice time," St. Marie admitted.

"Cáel, I blame you," Katrina looked my way.

"Yes Ma'am -- Katrina," I nodded. What did I do now?

"Cáel's presence makes normally controlled, rational women act in an abnormal fashion," Katrina informed St. Marie.

"I prefer to believe that than think we are incapable of accepting a lone outsider male amongst us," Katrina added. "If we treat him the way we treated our old male population we would be perpetuating our mistakes. He doesn't submit because that was the type of male we selected. Why is he learning how to fight? That should be obvious to you."

"Care to enlighten me?" I requested.

"No," the two women replied. Ah, what the fuck.

"That's okay. I figured it out," I shrugged. "I was checking to see if I warranted the truth." Katrina put her face into her upraised hands. She may have wept a single tear.

"You know nothing," St. Marie stated dismissively.

"He knows enough," Katrina shook her head.

"Who would have told him?" St. Marie looked back to Katrina suspiciously.

"Why don't you ask him?" Katrina chuckled. St. Marie turned back to me.

"Was it Katrina?" St. Marie threatened.

"No and no 'one' person. It was two unrelated slip-ups by two unrelated Amazons," I said. "One referenced a previous time when the Amazons let men bear arms, which led to disaster. The other was the use of the term 'Ash Men' as a positive moniker."

"That's all I know. I suspect there was a time when the Amazons let down their guard and allowed men to be equals, or semi-equals, in their society. There was a rebellion that left a bitter taste on the Amazon racial psyche. Somehow the Ash Men played a positive role in Amazon society. For some reason, you exterminated them," I concluded. St. Marie flinched.

"Why do you say that?" she studied me.

"They are not around today and you are all hateful psychopaths," I explained.

"Again, you know nothing," St. Marie insisted.

"Katrina, unless you are not finished insulting my intelligence, can I use your bathroom so that I can get dressed and go to work?" I looked at my boss.

"Insult to your intelligence duly noted. When you are finished, report to Medical. They want to test a variety of gene-therapies on you," Katrina told me. I stumbled and stared. Katrina laughed. "Get to work." From the bathroom, I heard St. Marie question Katrina.

"Is he afraid of Medical, or is he worried about being a test subject?" she posed.

"Neither; he's surprised that he had his job explained to him before he actually got there. It has never happened before," Katrina replied.

"You send him on missions without him knowing what he's going to be doing?" St. Marie grunted.

"Yes. It makes him think on his feet," Katrina noted.

"That is probably why his work is so substandard," St. Marie remarked.

"Cáel's work is not substandard. He may be the best new hire in the batch. I give him crappy reviews to keep him on his toes," Katrina snickered.

"He knows what I'm doing, but he still keeps trying harder despite that," Katrina sounded amused. "Cáel is one of the few joys in my life...and if he doesn't finish getting dressed in the next 30 seconds I'm going to assign him to babysitting Marilynn at the hospital next." I hoped out of Katrina's bathroom -- mostly dressed.

"Is Marilynn okay?" I worried. "I didn't get the call last night, but I never imagined anything bad happened to her." St. Marie appeared confused.

"Someone gave her a bad drugs and she nearly overdosed," Katrina brought me up to date. "That is where Desiree is. Now go to work." Off I went.

"He is enamored of Marilynn St. James?" I caught St. Marie inquiring.

"Oh no," Katrina answered. "He has rather a low opinion of her, but Cáel would run into a burning ammo dump to save Constanza. He is stupidly enchanting that way." I had one last hurdle.

There were the 'new' hires talking with Felix. They were captured in his orbit and he was having a blast soaking up the attention. He was making real inroads with the ladies but he missed a fundamental aspect of his environment -- who hunted who.

"Cáel," Felix parted the women as he came my way.

"How did you do last night? Didn't you and Gene hook-up? I'm done with her, so it isn't like you'd be poaching," he grinned. I sensed the emotional tidal shift.

"Nah, both Gene and I were of the opinion you dumped her to have a one-night stand with Brooke, break her heart then toss her back to me," I shrugged.

Felix glared. This wasn't how the 'game' was played. Where was my outrage?

"Are you going to take her back?" Felix went all alpha-predator on me. Bad move. The only predators around here had to have tits -- bulging pectorals didn't count. "If you do, go easy on her. She's sore," he kept grinning like the wolf he was.

"Besides," he fished something flimsy and back out of his pocket, "he can return these to her." He tossed me Brooke's panties from last night. In Havenstone, Brooke was a 'nobody' -- an outsider. She didn't matter. Felix taking a trophy from a woman did matter. I was different because I knew the score. Felix didn't have that luxury.

I actually held them up, displaying Brooke's rather daring choice in evening lingerie. A little bit of education was in order.

"Pretty clever -- the old hiding the panties trick so you can exhibit them later," I chuckled. "I use it to get a call back. You clearly get off on mailing them to her parents, boyfriend, or husband as if having sex with you wasn't humiliation enough."

Felix moved to the very edge of my personal space.

"Now you are being a poor sport," he sneered.

"What do you mean?" I remained cool. "I went over to Brooke's this morning. We critiqued your sexual performance. She found you truly impressive -- just a little weak down the closing stretch."

"She said that to make you feel less inadequate," Felix reposed.

"Nah; she said that so she could have sex with me," I sighed. "I fought her off as long as I could, but she wrestled me down and rode me like the pony express. If you wore her out...well...ah, she recovers quickly and vigorously."

"You are so full of shit," he laughed. "You got a pity fuck. Accept it."

"Think what you will," I smirked. "I left her smiling. You left her in tears and isn't the woman's pleasure what it is all about?" Pandering to my audience.

"I agree," Felix took back in his surroundings. Nice recovery except for...

"So that's why you stole Brooke's panties and chose to publicly hurl them at me," I met his gaze, the bastard, "because she matters...most?" Felix could feel the room temperature dropping by the Kelvin.

"It is how the game is played," he snarled. He was starting to clue in that things had gone wrong.

How had they gone wrong? For starters, the only Alphas allowed in Havenstone didn't have dicks. Treating women, even outsider women, as if they were game pieces on a male's only board wouldn't wash here. I had coughed up the name of every woman I'd ever had intercourse with -- but that was for the job, not for general consumption.

Felix, by idiotically seducing all the new hires in Executive Services had showed them EXACTLY what he thought of them -- outsider women to be taken as prizes. Reference the Greeks in the Trojan War for how the Amazons felt about that. This was not sympathy for world-wide femininity.

This was terrorists attacking a school. When the Amazons found those terrorists, they killed them; not to save outsider children, but because the terrorist were fucking dangerous. Since Felix treated all women like trophies and conquest, he, by definition, would treat Amazon women the same way. Good job, Pinhead.

Felix was a pretty smart guy. He finally realized I'd kicked his ass without lifting a finger. Felix couldn't figure out why he'd lost, only that he'd lost. Then we were back to Felix being the man who always has to win. He couldn't let go. He couldn't let me have my moment and depart in peace. This was made all the worse for I was the Bumpkin -- the guy he'd dissed from Day One.

"I guess I need to have another go at Brooke to set the record straight," Felix hissed quietly.

"I'll make it easy on you," I laughed loudly. "I am tired of you hiding behind my acquaintances to get at me. I have a friend coming over at 5:10 pm, so give me an hour and I'll meet you on the mats."

"Why should I?" he sneered. "What's on the line?"

"Normally I fight for a cause, even if it is my own self-respect. I'm making an exception in your case -- I'll fight you solely to kick your ass. Just cause you are a lousy human being. I know you are because I'm one too. Fight, or cluck -- your choice."

"I'll fight you," he smiled confidently. "I'll break you for everyone to see and then I'll take that luscious blonde." I had to laugh.

"Good luck with that," I chuckled. I could see it now. Felix: 'You are now my prize'; Elsa: 'You are now in Intensive Care'. Woot! I couldn't lose.