by Carol Caiton
Almost in unison each member of the board pushed away from the table and stood. But Ethan skewered everyone with a glare. Then he turned back to Dalton, the glitter in his eyes a dangerous warning. "Your sister is an employee and an active member of RUSH. If not me, then it'll be the next man in line." He nodded toward the other side of the table. "Elliott, maybe. Or someone you don't even know. Because someone is going to be fucking your sister. This just happens to be my turn."
A soft gasp sounded from the open doorway, distracting Ethan at the same moment Dalton drew back his arm and slammed a punch against the side of his face.
Ethan stumbled back a step, reflexively raising his own fist in retaliation as Michael caught Dalton's arm in a tight snare. Prepared to strike back, Ethan's angry eyes jumped to the horrified face of his green link, poised in the open doorway.
"Simon!" he barked, communicating what he wanted without words.
Simon turned, took in the girl's stricken expression and shifted his body to block her view of the room. He filled her vision as he approached, then slid a hand around her elbow and waited as she blinked, then refocused. "Come with me," he ordered softly, exerting enough pressure on her arm to override the shock.
He guided her back into the corridor as Ethan growled, "It's a status-- green, Dalton. That's why—"
Simon closed the door.
Easing the pressure on her arm, he led the girl away from the conference room toward the opposite side of the building. "I gather you didn't tell Dalton your link with Ethan is high-ranking and monogamous."
Her shoulders drooped. "No."
"Mind if I ask why?" If she had, that scene in the conference room might not have taken place.
"I didn't tell him because he was being a tyrant. He wanted answers to questions that were personal. Then he ordered me to quit my job." She sighed. "It was juvenile, I know. I purposely let him think it was amber because I wanted to aggravate him as much as he was aggravating me."
As a man without siblings, Simon had never experienced the familial bond that drove brothers and sisters to provoke one another. And Ethan had stoked the fire by implying he was only one of many in line.
"What's going to happen in there?" Denny asked. She looked up through greenish-blue eyes as he steered her along the corridor. "Are they going to fight?"
"No."
"But Ethan was about to punch Dalton."
"That was spontaneous reaction, nothing more."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because he pulled it."
"But—"
He brought her to a stop and looked down at her. She was young and pretty with honey-blonde hair and bluish-green eyes. There was an all-American-girl look about her and she held herself with the confidence of a young woman who knew she was attractive. The few times he'd nodded a greeting to her at the reception desk, she'd responded with a ready, easy smile. And when he'd seen her laughing with one of the secretaries, there had been a lively sparkle in her eyes—the kind of sparkle that could throw a man off balance. Looking at her now, he decided she had a fair amount of spirit, standing up to Dalton, then pressing his buttons, as well. Taken in combination, that sparkle and spirit were going to give Ethan's devil-may-care charm a lot of skidding stops and starts.
"Ethan knew—"
He broke off as movement in the office beside them caught his eye. "Let's have the conversation somewhere else," he said. And once again he applied pressure to her elbow and guided her along the corridor. "Who's covering the front desk for you?"
"One of the floaters."
They passed the bisecting hallway she would have taken to resume her station at the reception desk.
"Where are we going?"
"To Ethan's office."
"But—"
"That's where he'll come to find you."
In fact, Ethan would probably go to Simon's office first. But if Dalton came looking for her, he'd go there as well, and Simon didn't intend to turn her over to her brother. So he maneuvered her along yet another corridor and at its end, safely into Ethan's domain. Then he released her to close the door.
"I'm supposed to be in class," the receptionist told him, wrapping both arms around her middle. "At least that's what Dalton thinks." She glanced at Simon over her shoulder. "I didn't drop out. I still qualify for membership here." Sighing, she turned back around and looked out the windows again. "I just cut back a little. I CLEPped out of a couple of courses, is all, and the other two I take at night."
Which didn't leave much time to pursue a relationship, he thought. "Were you going to tell Dalton?" he asked out of curiosity. She was easy to talk to and he was glad of that because he'd be seeing a lot of her now, both in and out of the office.
"I would have told him eventually. As the front desk receptionist I'm visible to everyone walking into the building, so I knew I'd have to say something. I just hadn't figured out how. But I wish I could have picked my own time. I didn't think it would happen so . . . abruptly."
When the door opened and Ethan walked in, she remained where she stood, looking out at the landscaping. But the tension in her posture told Simon she knew Ethan was there and that she hadn't forgotten his crude, flippant remark.
"Everything settled?" Simon asked, eyeing the dark, reddened area high on the left side of Ethan's jaw.
Ethan looked over at the pretty young blonde and gave a single nod. "Almost. I owe you."
"Hmmph. I'll let you know when I'm ready to collect." He glanced once more at Denny Cooper before turning toward the door. He wasn't the only one confronting obstacles today. Ethan had a few of his own to overcome. After reducing his green link to a dispensable body for the system to pass around, it was going to take all that smooth-talking charm of his to convince her he hadn't meant it. Simon wouldn't be surprised if she now thought the entire male population at RUSH regarded the female population in just that light. She wouldn't remember that it was the women who set the rules of play and chose the entertainment level at which they wanted to participate. Nor would it occur to her that the men with whom they were linked were only selected because they met specific standards of compatibility, or that the rest stood by, waiting. And every one of those men was aware of the competition he faced. She probably had no idea how full the classrooms were as each of them sought to improve his technique, hoping the next woman with whom he was paired would apply for an extension of their three-month link period. And right now, she wouldn't care that the cost of a woman's membership was substantially lower than the rates incurred by the male clients. If the linking system was the heart of RUSH, then the women were its soul. But all that mattered to Denise Cooper right now were the words, This just happens to be my turn.
Nevertheless, Simon gave her points for remaining calm. She was young, but instead of venting her anger, she'd quietly accompanied him to Ethan's office. She'd answered his questions then waited patiently, giving Ethan the chance to explain himself.
Midway along the corridor Simon thought of Nina Millering and wondered if she would have exercised the same restraint. She was young, as well. Twenty-two. Why was she still a virgin at twenty-two? It couldn't be for lack of opportunity.
Nearing the conference room, it didn't surprise him to see the remaining board members engaged in active discussion. No one was smiling, but that wasn't surprising, either. After dealing with the announcement of two high-level links, then learning they had a virginal woman on board, Ethan had incited a valued employee to violence. Between the two of them, he and Ethan had turned a corporate board meeting into a daytime drama.
All eyes turned toward the door as he opened it. Malcolm rested his pen on the table and said, "Perhaps Simon can enlighten us."
Adjusting his chair, Simon resumed his seat and said, "I doubt it, but go ahead."
"We're discussing Dalton."
"In that case, I can't bring much to the table."
"Did you know the green link belonged to Ethan?" Mason asked.
"He told me last nigh
t."
Simon related what he knew, explaining how Ethan had happened upon the relationship between Dalton and their new receptionist and his concern for the fact that no security flag had been raised.
"I'm on it," Michael said, scratching another note to himself on his mangled spiral pad.
"I'm surprised he didn't tell all of you himself before the meeting," Simon said.
"No time. He walked into the conference room just before you did."
Michael looked up and asked, "Who should the system notify about relatives on property? Psych or Security?"
"Both," Mason told him. "And attach it to the linking download file, as well. That's not the sort of surprise any of us needs."
"Got it."
"Good," Malcolm said. He made a note on his own pad then looked up. "Now that we know this is an issue, Security should be sent a current list of related clients, whether or not their files are active. Michael?"
"As long as they clicked on the box and typed the name on the app, no problem."
"All right then. Forward a copy to each of us, as well." He quietly tapped his pen on the yellow pad. "And now we need to discuss disciplinary action."
Simon looked up, only just realizing he hadn't asked about Dalton's fate. "Where is Dalton?"
"He's been escorted off property until further notice."
"Did you speak with Ethan first?"
"Ethan," Malcolm said wryly, "was too busy giving Dalton what for to apprise us of anything. He did, however, bark out an order, telling the lot of us to back off—just before he followed after you . . . and the new receptionist."
Michael grinned. "Must be something about the job description."
"Did Ethan intentionally provoke Dalton?" Mason asked.
Once again, Simon found himself explaining things in Ethan's absence. "He couldn't have known Dalton would track him down in the middle of a meeting."
"Well, we can't excuse what happened. Even if it's only a warning, we need to do something."
"Agreed," Malcolm said. "But violence warrants more than a warning."
"How about a probationary period?" Mason suggested. "Say, sixty days?"
Malcolm glanced around the table. "Anyone?"
Silence.
"All right then. Sixty days. But since there's a conflict with Security, I want Legal to handle it. Mason?"
"I'll take care of it."
"Good." He added another quick note to the rest, then flipped the page. "The others will be along in a minute, so let's return to Simon's request for the area above Checkpoint 2."
"Uhhh . . . ."
"What is it, Michael?"
"Well, it seems like it would be easier if Simon just rented an apartment somewhere off property. There are plenty of nice places around."
"You're right," Simon agreed. "It would be easier. But I can't introduce myself to the woman for the first time, then tell her I've picked out an apartment, paid for it, and want her to live in it."
Mason gestured with his pen. "Are you open to a suggestion?"
"Sure. Go ahead."
"I don't know why a young woman with no sexual experience would join RUSH and choose an R-link membership. But that lack of experience changes things. It puts us in a strong legal position to manage her schedule."
"You've got my attention."
Mason smiled. "She'll have to sign it, but an addendum, giving the board control over the pace of her training, could be used to safeguard RUSH against her . . . unusual circumstances."
A slow smile spread across Simon's mouth.
"And it's my guess," Mason went on, "that Dan Zeman will support the blue link, even if it's just to recommend you as her first encounter. So I suggest you leave things as they are."
"What am I looking at for time?"
Mason considered that for a minute. "I'd say we can stretch this out anywhere from three weeks to a month."
For the first time, the muscles that corded the back of Simon's neck began to relax. A month. He'd gone from two days to one week, then a full month. She'd be living in the R-link complex, but he'd have complete control over her schedule . . . which meant no Pleasure Points classes and no sexual contact with the instructors. All things considered, he'd be walking away from this meeting with a lot more than he'd hoped for.
"Yes," he said. "Do it."
"All right." Mason wrote another note to himself then turned to Michael. "We'll need another flag attached to the application form."
"Okay. Where do you want it?"
"Sexual Experience," Mason said. "If we get any other applicants who click on None, the same addendum Nina Millering signs should be attached to their contracts."
"Okay."
Mason looked toward the head of the table. "When Dan gets back from vacation, we should ask him to draw up a schedule that will accommodate a woman with no sexual experience . . . as a recommendation to the board."
"That could take a while," Oliver advised. "He's going to have a full calendar."
Mason nodded. "Yes, I know." A flicker of amusement came into his eyes. "In the meantime, Simon is probably best qualified from among us to draw up an approach for Nina to follow. Chances are, Dan's recommendation will follow the same guidelines."
"So Simon gets exactly what he wants, along with everything he doesn't want," Oliver said.
Michael turned in his seat. "Geez, Mason, that was slick."
"Thank you, Michael."
Elliott leaned forward. "Realistically, though, what are the odds of another virginal woman applying for membership?"
"I'd say close to zero."
"Maybe," Michael agreed. "But if we get any more, there should be some conditions she has to follow."
"What kind of conditions?"
"A mandatory body prep before her first encounter for one thing." Michael drummed the eraser of his pencil on the table. "I'd damn well want her aching for it before I took some woman's virginity. And who's to say we don't have a few other inexperienced women walking around here already? —Maybe some of the women who haven't activated their files yet."
For a minute no one spoke. Michael was right. If one inexperienced woman had joined RUSH, there could be others.
"Michael." Malcolm looked pointedly down the table. "See to it that Simon has access to all of these flags when he reviews the statistics. When we meet again next week I want to know if there are any other inexperienced women at RUSH and how many."
"Done."
"In the meantime, I suggest we treat Simon's blue as we would any other link. Word is bound to get out, so don't deny it, just keep it low-key."
"Agreed."
"Agreed."
"All right." A meaningful glance toward the corridor suggested they were about to be joined by RUSH's management personnel. "Anything else will have to wait," Malcolm concluded.
The door opened with a barrage of conversation and soft laughter. Simon watched as the management team selected places at the table and thought, not for the first time, that he and the others had chosen well.
"Good morning," Malcolm greeted them. He waited for everyone to get comfortable then said, "First, some good news. It seems our shopping plaza will be completed two weeks ahead of schedule. Elliott?"
The small shopping mall was Malcolm's pet project but Elliott, RUSH's resident architect, had designed it and oversaw its construction. "As we speak," he told everyone, "the site is being cleared of debris for landscaping. So it looks as though employee membership will increase shortly before Thanksgiving instead of after."
Since it benefitted everyone when membership increased, new energy infused the group. Simon and the others listened to the spark of comments and questions before each supervisor was asked to report on his or her department.
"We're going to try something a bit different," Malcolm said sometime later. "To assist with our ongoing ambition to attract more women to RUSH, Vanessa has a proposal. Vanessa?"
"Thank you, Malcolm." The public relations specialist took the floor. "
It's certainly not a new idea, but it's been proven successful," she said. "We're going to place a suggestion box in the lobby of each facility. We're open to ideas for improvement, of course, but as Malcolm said, we're particularly interested in suggestions that will draw more women. If anyone has an idea, have them jot it down. Sign it or not. But if it's signed and we put it to use, there will be a bonus check in it for him or her. Any questions?"
No one spoke.
"Thank you, Vanessa," Malcolm concluded. "We'll be sending round a memo to that effect—"
A knock sounded on the door and Elliott's secretary opened it. "Sorry to interrupt," she said, taking a step inside. She brushed a length of pale blonde hair over her shoulder and looked down the table toward Malcolm. "Ethan asked me to tell you he won't be back until this afternoon."
"Thank you, Hannah."
She started to back out.
"Wait a minute Hannah," Oliver called out. "Do we still have a receptionist?"
Hannah paused, her expression bewildered. "You mean Denny? Do you want me to send her in?"
"No. No, I was just wondering if she was at the front desk. Thanks."
Still looking perplexed, she nodded and took another step back.
"Just a minute, Hannah." It was Malcolm who detained her this time.
Hand on the doorknob, she waited and raised a questioning brow.
Malcolm leaned back in his seat and eyed her thoughtfully. "If I asked you to give us a suggestion that would attract more women to RUSH, what would be your answer?"
Hannah scanned the room's occupants before she spoke. As soon as her eyes landed on Simon, however, she looked away. It was her usual reaction whenever they shared the same space. He made her uncomfortable. He knew that. Sometimes he did it intentionally, training a daunting gaze on her. He did it because Hannah made him uncomfortable, as well.
Remarkably pretty, softly feminine, she had a flair for style that jarred his analytical mind to attention every time he saw her. It was the wispy feathers . . . or the zebra stripes—all the odd little doodads that embellished every pair of high heels she owned. It was the array of bracelets that quietly clinked and jingled with every movement of her arm. It was the combination of colors she wore that shouldn't complement one another, but did. And, annoyingly, it was those full, ripe breasts he'd wanted to get his hands on for two and a half years.
