“He approached the perpetrator and politely asked them to refrain from that activity. He was rebuffed. It wasn’t like he could physically resolve the issue. To resolve that internal conflict – to defend his sisters but not attack a sister, he symbolically killed the problem. This allowed him to constantly and continuously forget the cause of this disruption.”
“He can’t do that,” Fabiola persisted.
“Actually, it is pure Cael,” Katrina smirked. “I personally unaware of any scripture, bylaw, or statute that forbids him from doing this. I have given you a reasonable argument that explains his actions. He is essentially working through two conflicting orders.”
“Now Fabiola, as a perspective leader, what do you suggest he do? Let you force him to be relocated when he breaks your jaw? Let you insult half of Havenstone’s staff until one day, one of them snaps and you end up in a Newark landfill? That would be wrong of him to do as he is supposed to lay his life down for us,” Katrina kept at it. “What do you suggest?”
“How do you resolve the crisis? Before you answer that, consider the fate of Leona,” Katrina gave a predatory twist of the lips that would make a Momma T-Rex proud.
“This male is making us fight amongst ourselves,” Fabiola complained.
“I’m not fighting just for the male,” Daphne growled. “I’m fighting to have offspring that are strong in both body and mind.”
“Hey,” Helena snorted, “can you imagine how much tougher the women in Acquisitions and Business Management have it? We get to talk about the New Directive without fear of weirding Cael out.”
“Please believe me,” I chuckled. “I’m still weirded out. There is simply nothing I can do about it so I get on with my day.”
“I don’t understand any of you,” Fabiola protested.
“Fabiola, will Aya die?” Katrina asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?” Katrina continued.
“She is small, weak and hyperactive,” Fabiola explained.
“Cael, will Aya die?”
“No.”
“Why?” Katrina gazed at me. “Isn’t she small, weak and hyperactive?”
“Sure, she’s small now, but she’s only nine. Look at the size of all the other women in her house. None of them are super-tall either,” I answered. “She’s not hyperactive. She is very bright with a very active imagination. Once she finds her ‘stillness’ – her center – she’ll do fine. If anything, she’s too smart. She figures out that her guardians are worried, why they are worried and has to fight against their disappointment every time she does anything.”
Fabiola snorted, proving yet again she was clueless to her surroundings.
“After all, Katrina, she’s related to you and you are one of the scariest-smart people I’ve ever had the pleasure to know,” I smiled. I could reply to Fabiola while not replying.
“Cael, go. You are unlikely to survive Buffy as it is,” Katrina directed.
Buffy was indeed apoplectic. She did manage to let me retrieve my bike before driving me home. Since I was dragging both all my business clothes, toiletries and my bike upstairs with crutches, it was painfully comical. A furious Buffy relented and took a few of my things. We had barely made it in the door when my phone rang.
Buffy dumped my belongings in the center of the living room.
“Hey,” I answered the phone.
“Hey, it’s Odette,” she greeted me happily. “Are you still in the HQ?”
“Nope Odette,” I grinned at Buffy. “I’m home. Do you want to come over?”
“Sure… it’s not going to be a problem, is it?” she asked.
“I have a good friend over, but if you can stand my illicit behavior, you are more than welcome,” I informed her.
“Cool,” she chirped. “I’ll be over in about an hour.”
“See you soon. Until then Odette,” I said.
“Now I have to watch you fuck a whore?” Buffy stared at the ground. I wasn’t going to go after for the ‘whore’ thing. She was at the end of her endurance. I knew that. I limped in front of her and pulled out her phone. She was too angry to look up at me so I knelt down.
“Buffy,” I showed her the text from Katrina about my six hour sexual exemption. She looked up and read it.
“So? What does this mean?” Buffy looked ready to explode in tears and fists.
“It means that when Constanza had her sword aimed at my throat I figured out a way to ease some of your fears,” I stated. She blinked.
“You worried that I’d be dead by the end of the month, and I did promise to try and make you the first Havenstone woman I made love to,” I explained.
“Constanza was about to kill you and you were thinking of me?” is what Buffy got out of all that.
“Yeah. I also realized that Aya was far calmer than she was last Saturday, but the major thing was how to ask Katrina for the exemption and lure you here for the weekend,” I told her.
“Weekend?” Buffy studied me intently.
“Yeah,” I grinned seductively.
“See, I figure we time everything. When we start something naughty, we cut on the timer and the moment we are done, we cut it off,” I met her gaze. “That way me squeeze as much out of the six hours as possible – if that’s what you want to do?” Buffy hugged me suddenly.
“You were about to die and I was the one you were thinking about,” Buffy wept.
By that, I meant she fell apart emotionally. I had always seen Buffy so fierce that I was caught off-guard by this open vulnerability. I hugged her back and snuggled her close. She sniffled for several seconds.
“This doesn’t count, does it?” she hiccupped.
“This is purely platonic. I’m bonding with my supervisor – team-building,” I stated firmly.
“Oh Goddess, you are crazy, you are crazy, you are crazy,” she murmured into my shoulder.
“Okay, I’m crazy. I also really want to have sex with you,” I pushed her back so we could look eye to eye. “Or, are you going to make me beg like a big baby?”
“I really want to have sex with you too,” Buffy smiled… romantically. The fiery freakiness was gone to be replaced by a deeply sensual, gentle spirit. What the hell?
“Let’s go to the bedroom,” I suggested. “We can try out the sofa later.”
“Is your leg going to be okay?” she suddenly worried.
“Which one? Two of the three are working fine,” I teased. No anger.
“I love your sense of humor,” Buffy snickered. I repeat – Huh? We stripped down then crawled under the sheets. Buffy was demure, calm and at peace.
“Buffy, I don’t want to ruin the mood,” I said as I pulled her close.
“But you are not acting normal and I don’t know what to make of it,” I completed.
“I won,” Buffy stroked my cheek lovingly. “I beat out everyone else for you. I gave it everything I had, you recognized that and came to me. This is me being happy, Cael. Would you prefer me to be combative?”
“I prefer you,” I teased. The ‘thank you’ hovered right on the other side of unspoken. It wasn’t in her. She was starting to get amorous. I pulled away to Buffy’s momentary confusion then the condom came out, I ripped open the packet, slipped on the prophylactic and returned to my lover. I was about to slip into Buffy, missionary style.
“Wait!” she stopped me. She hit two buttons on her wrist watch. “Timer,” she explained. In I went. Buffy gasped slightly then began moving her legs up along my thighs. Years of experience made this a slow, gentle screw. This wasn’t me wasting time; Buffy wanted savagery later. For her triumphal moment, she wanted to savor every second of this first time with her prize – me.
Tender kissing and nuzzling were the signs of our affection. She ran her hands over my shoulders, back and buttock. I would balance on my right arm while I coaxed delightful hums from Buffy. This was not Buffy’s first time. By the level of stimulation she was giving me, this was unlikely to even be her 100th time. She knew her stuff.
She had mentioned me physically and cerebrally engaging her being a reason she was so desperate to ‘have’ me. I had misinterpreted that. Buffy wanted a sex partner that could keep up in a way that went far beyond stamina – she hungered for matching skill and maturity. She could give me subtle clues with her body and I’d pick up on them, folding them back into my own actions and signals.
There aren’t too many that can meet me orgasm for orgasm. Buffy did. She crested to her climax first, but I was only seconds behind her. Before my final ejaculations, I rolled us over so that she was on top. I tried wiggle my cock out of her vagina. Buffy resisted.
“Don’t pull out yet,” Buffy requested.
“If I pull out, we can stop the clock,” I insisted.
“Oh,” she giggled, “me lying naked on top of you in your bed isn’t ‘inappropriate behavior’?”
“I won’t tell if you won’t,” I snickered. Buffy cut of the timer on her wristwatch. Buffy was bringing her breathing under control and getting comfortable with our sweatiness.
“If you hadn’t been as good as your hype,” Buffy whispered after a minute, “I think I would have fallen apart… and killed you… then probably myself.”
“Whoa,” I reacted. “Explain that. Girls wanting to kill me is fine. Girls killing themselves for anything remotely involving me isn’t.” She mulled that over. She wasn’t going to apologize yet felt a need to share something. I had to be patient.
I’ve been with a lot of girls and a few guys who didn’t take rejection well. That rarely had anything to do with the actual rejection. It was some festering wound much deeper and older than their encounter with me.
“In high school I discovered the wonders of sex. I loved it. Not the lover, but the carnal act. I’d screw anyone, as long as it was something new and different,” Buffy confided.
“After a few bad incidents, my parents – my stepfather and my mother – threw me out because they thought I was a bad influence for my two younger sisters. I went to a city and did the only thing I was good at. I met this guy – you know the story. He would protect me, love me, blah, blah, blah,” Buffy recalled painfully.
“Slowly the sex stopped being fun. It was money and not my money at that. One night I got sick of it. ‘He’ wanted me to perform, I told him I was leaving so he and two buddies raped me. They raped me a lot over the next two days while they smoked meth and drank,” she continued. “Finally, when they all passed out, I went to the place where he had his gun.”