Retribution
The Fugitive
By DX

Copyright 1/2024, all rights reserved.



Gently scraping the undercarriage, the Lamborghini Huracan pulled almost smoothly into the parking garage.  It revved its harsh, V-10 engine and killed anyone’s hearing in the echoy garage before it shut down in front of the attendant’s booth.
 The scissor door swung smoothly open and Zach clambered out, almost face-planting before recovering.  He stood nobly beside his beautiful car for just a moment, almost expecting someone to photograph his awesomeness.
 “Sir?”  The attendant’s voice called over the intercom system.  “You can’t park there.”
 Pretending he didn’t hear, Zach walked towards the elevator.  “Scratch it and I’ll have your hide.”  He called over his shoulder.  “That baby’s worth more than ten years your salary.”
 The attendant spilled out of the booth and shouted back.  “You know you can’t leave that there!  It’s not allowed!  It’s blocking traffic!  Gah!  We do you do this every freaking day!”
 From the elevator, Zach turned and smiled as the doors closed.
 When they opened again, Zach stepped out into the grand, bustling, open space of the Trulow lobby.  White and steel and expansive windows that looked out over the cityscape created the back ground, while in the foreground, executives wearing Italian Wool power-suits dashed frantically about with the ordered chaos of a kicked over ant’s nest.
 Zach let the wealth of his suit fan his aura of calm confidence as he made his way to the head of the line at security, ignoring the eyes of annoyance as he did.
 “I’m sorry sir,”  The guard stopped him as he reached for the ISO-pad.  “These people are ahead of you.”  He motioned to the line.
 Zach nodded, almost apologetically, and he pulled his hand back before suddenly thrusting it forward and touching the sensor.  His name, Zach T. popped up and the light flashed green.  “Oops!  Sorry.  I guess it will take longer to reset than to just let me by.”  He slipped past the guard, gesturing to the people behind him that the guard just made an error and was incompetent, and he was just as much a victim as they were.
 He took the escalator to the second tier, riding as if he manned the helm of a Spanish man-o-war.  At the crest, he turned and waved to crowds below and blew them a kiss, even though no one was watching.
 In his office, Zach poised to behold the spectacle of the city streets so far below.  Through the wide, expanse of tempered glass window, he watched them like bugs as they crawled their way through their lives.  He had once been like them, he mused, earning just enough to avoid being utterly crushed by his amassing debt, before he made a choice not to be poor.  That one decision sparked his meteoric rise.
 He wondered why those wretched, pathetic souls down below didn’t make the same choice.  
 Just don’t be poor, he thought to them.  Make that choice!  Until then, you deserve poverty.
 His computer powered up as he sat down in his ergonomic, custom chair.  Using just his eyes, he flashed through a myriad of e-mails and quickly assigned them priority according to his list: 

 1. Forward
 2. Re-direct 
 3. Ignore
 4. Place blame on others
 5. Fabricate evidence to make the blame on others solid
 6. Although not his direct mill-house he’d look into it while blaming others
 7. Blame others but willing to bail them out while re-directing it to others
 8. And delete.

 He glanced at the clock.  9:17 am.  A new record.
 He was done for the day.  All he needed now was to decide which of his many excuses he would use to spend the rest of the day playing golf.
 His door chime sounded sub-audibly, but his advanced auditory enhancement picked it up.  His eyes flashed towards the door and the heavy and aged oak became transparent to his enhanced sight.
 She was a delight.
 She was tall, and taller in her lovely heels.  Her calves hinted at muscle and long sessions on the stationary bike.  Her tight skirt did nothing to hide the magnificent sweep of her thighs and her masterful callipygian hips.  Her waist was neatly pinched, and her breasts swelled overflowing with life.  Her swan like neck went on for days.
 She had an aquiline face, a roguish cleft in her chin, and cheeks like candy apples.  Her inquisitive eyes were brown, like a slow moving deep river of chocolate, and her lips…
 He longed to kiss them and feel their soft warmth against him.
 He watched enrapt as she reached up and touched the door chime again.
 The door became solid.  “Come.”  He said sharply as he began to type on his desk top.
 He could feel her pull into the room as the air filled with the faint aura of apple blossoms.  “Is your keyboard not working?”  She asked with a handsome, alto-tenor voice.
 When he looked up bewildered, she leaned over, almost giving him a view into her lost mountain expedition cleavage, and waved her hand over a sensor on his desk.  The image of a keyboard materialized a few inches over its surface.
 He looked at it, never having seen that before.  He looked at his fingers resting on the desk.  “Oh, uh, no.  I was, uh, just composing in my head.  Sort of visualizing what it would look like when I actually began to type.  I sort of, rehearse, uh, rough draft all my important memos to the board of director’s this way, a first run through, they get so befuddled with tech talk, you know how they are.”  He realized he was babbling and set his hands in his lap.  “Can I help you with something?”
 She smiled and the whole room brightened.  “Actually, yes.  I really need your help.”
 He dreaded helping people because it meant doing more work, but he couldn’t help how wonderful she looked standing in the perfect light.  “Ah, well, of course, certainly, I just have this, uh, thing, priority one for Gary, you know how he is, everything is ASAP.”
 “That’s just it.  He’s out today and I’m a little desperate.  It will only take ten, fifteen minutes tops.  Five, if you’re pressed for time.  We can do it right here.”  She glanced around to verify their privacy.  “Or my office.  It’s just down the hall.  It’s private too.”  Her eyes lidded imperceptibly.  “Very private.”
 Zach felt the gears in his head try to re-shift as he watched the tiniest blush wash over her as her breathing deepened.  For a moment, it was as if a vampire had just been offered a bloody steak. 
 “Five minutes?”  He glanced at his watch and grimaced.  Five minutes work was still five minutes, but she was pretty, and it might be a favor returned in the near future.  “I think I can spare five minutes.”  He meshed his fingers together to keep them from flittering nervously.  “What is this all about?”
 “I need your male protein.”  She said, breathlessly.
 Although his augmented hearing heard her perfectly, he still said, “What?”
 “You’re an intact male, right?”  She said, slowly sliding around his desk.  “That’s the rumor.  If not, I totally understand and I’m cool with it.”  Her voice twittered, trying to remain calm and not sound desperate.  “You are… intact, right?”
 Zach felt his whole face slacken as it couldn’t decide what expression to have. 
 She leaned and sat on the edge of his desk.  Her fingers softly glided across its polished surface.  “I’m newly transferred, and when I heard about you I figured you’d understand.  See, Gary is out and Steve is stuck on the train and long story short, I need to make quota.”  She peered at him like a cat eyeing a low hanging Christmas ornament.  “You know now how it is.”
 Zach calmly reached for a glass of water.  He picked it up and brought it to his lips.  He tilted it back and discovered it was empty.  He then set it down casually.  “Quota?”
 She nodded.  “For your protein.  You used to work for Chasti-Permalock, right?  You know the score.  And you’re intact.  One hundred percent of the intact guys who allow me their protein enjoy the experience.”  She rose from the desk and stepped closer.
 Zach retreated into his chair as far as he could.  “A hundred percent?  Those are good numbers.”
 “Would you like me to beg for it?”  She slowly, smoothly lowered to her knees.  “I will beg.”
 “Ah, that won’t be necessary.”  He tensed as she reached for him.  “I think I should point out I’ve not had my coffee and the snack cart should be by any second.”
 She caressed his thigh.  “She won’t see anything she hasn’t seen before.”  She smiled.  “Please, let me have your protein?  I’m on my knees.”  Her lips pursed.  “Pretty, please?”  She gently pried his knees apart and eased into the space.  “I can do it in five minutes, or twenty-four hours.  You tell me whenever you want to blow.”

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