Don't Label Me! (3 page)

Sathi looked around at the
crew who were eying her expectantly. They seemed to have all the
exits covered too.
Goddess where are you?
Please save me.
But she knew she couldn’t
put off her answer. There was no choice after all. “I accept my
fate Captain.”

There were a few muttered
disappointed curses from the crew. Had they really thought she’d
refuse given the non-option?

“Good and Ms
Rupasinghe.”

“Yes?”

“I expect a demonstration
of your proficient skills before we make land. Consider it your
graduation exam. I will need to report to my bosses on my
assessment of your value. If you fail to please me I will hand you
over to the more sadistic members of my crew. I’ll write you off as
died at sea because that’s where what’s left of you’ll end up when
they finish with you.” He wasn’t smiling.

Sathi thought her heart
would stop beating, such were her nerves as the young sailor, who’d
escorted her aboard, stopped at the door of her designated cabin.
“Ms, if its any consolation he’s not bad to look at.” He unlocked
the door for her, locking it again behind her once she’d entered.
She turned to face what she would and was stunned speechless. The
room was little more than a large bed but what a bed. It’s burgundy
red silk sheets were turned back and liberally sprinkled with
bright pink lotus petals. The light from the sconces in the room
was not overly bright but enough to take in the full glory of the
man who waited, standing at the foot of the bed. He offered his
hand. Holding a breath she tentatively reached out and took
it.
Thank you Goddess
. She offered up her silent gratitude.

As if reading her thoughts
the man smiled. “Indeed. She was the one who sent me to you. I just
made sure I was in the right place at the right time to convince
the good captain I was the one he should hire.”

“I’m not sure good really
is the right adjective to describe the captain.”

The man laughed at that.
“Probably not but you have nothing to fear. Its my job to make sure
of that. Just don’t get too attached to me. I’m not your hero and
I’m not your mate but one day many years from now I’ll send him to
you.”

“So what should I call
you?”

“Guru will do fine and I
will call you lotus blossom.” He drew her to the bed and started to
slowly and leisurely undress her.

Sathi trembled for a
moment under his touch but if the goddess had indeed sent him she
should trust him. So she let herself relax into his
hands.

“Yes.” The man almost
purred his approval. “Trust I think will be your first lesson. Give
that to me and there are no end to the wonders I will show
you.

Thursday 11 March 2011, Japan...

Hideo looked at the pile of exam papers and
sighed. The marking was going slowly but his students deserved his
attention to their efforts. Reluctantly he picked up the phone and
called his wife. “Aiko, I’m sorry but I won’t be home for tea. I’m
snowed under with exam marking. I may not get home at all.”

Aiko felt sorry for her hard working
husband. She knew he loved his students almost as if they were
replacements for the children they’d never managed to conceive.
Neither blamed the other, they’d simply dedicated their love to
each other and those they cared about. Like his students and her
family. She looked at the calendar on the wall, it would be her
dad’s 92nd birthday tomorrow. If Hideo was busy maybe she could
make a quick trip to see her parents. “Don’t rush Hideo. Actually I
was thinking of packing tonight for a quick trip to see chichi.
Would you mind? There’s a high speed train leaving at first light.
I can be back by midday on Sunday then we can go for a walk in the
park. It’s still a bit cool but the spring bulbs should be starting
to show. We can have some green tea and mochi on the park’s
lawns.”

Hideo felt guilty, his loyalty split between
his wife and his students. He should go with her but the exam
papers weren’t going to mark themselves. He knew his students were
anxious for their results. He didn’t want any of them stressing
out. “ I feel like I’m deserting you Aiko, I’m sorry. Sure, you go
and give your parents my best regards. I’m teaching an aikido class
for sensei tomorrow night anyway. Sunday in the park sounds great.
And Aiko...”

“
Hideo?”

“
I love you.”

“
I love you too. See you when I get
back. Don’t mark your students too hard will you?”

“
You’re such a softie Aiko. I’ll try
not to.”

Having ended up sleeping at his desk after
managing to get through all the marking he felt a sense of relief
as he handed back the students their work. It was just after two
thirty in the afternoon. One more lesson to teach for the day and
then he could get home and get ready for the evening’s aikido
lesson. He might even have time to stop at his favorite little
coffee shop on the way. Life seemed pretty good...and then the
world started shaking. Not again! There’d been tremors all day but
this one was a monster compared to what had shook them earlier.
“Everybody, under the desks and doorways now! This is not a drill,
I repeat this is not a drill.” Containing his own fear he herded
the slowest of the students to safety and stayed with them.
Everyone held on to grim death as walls swayed, items shook from
shelves, cracks appeared in the walls. Hideo prayed to his
ancestors to watch over them and hoped his wife and her aging
family were faring better. Hopefully it was only another local
tremor.

As the tremor ebbed the shocked students,
stunned by the ferocity of what they had just experienced,
cautiously came out from under their desks.

“
Ichiro, turn the TV on. NHK might be
able to give us a news update.” Hideo thought some students might
be spending the night at the school if the train lines were down.
It was likely.

Fortunately the TV still worked “...reports
are starting to come in of widespread damage from what is believed
to have been a magnitude 9.0 earthquake in the sea off Japan’s main
island of Tohoku...”

Hideo’s gut clenched. A sea earthquake.
Aiko’s parent’s house in Fukushima overlooked the sea. Classroom
etiquette be damned. He fished into his back pocket for his mobile
phone and made the call. The call rang out.

The doors on the lift closed. Lewis James
Sutterfield the Third straightened his tie as he watched the
numbers ascend. He was meeting Her in the penthouse he’d rented for
them for the evening. Nerves skittered down his spine. He wasn’t
used to feeling nervous. As a prosecutor working predominantly in
the International Court of Justice in the Hague he was usually
viewed as an arrogant, cold-hearted son-of-a-bitch by the those he
cross examined.

He’d just finished a successful case against
the ex Republic of Translavia president who’d taken upon himself to
use his country’s army to do a little ethnic spring cleaning. Rabid
tribalism was rife. It seemed to be a growing counter reaction to
the global mega corporate conglomerates that had surpassed
countries as world powers. Even the economies of some of the bigger
countries were nothing compared with the budgets of the biggest
companies. Tribalism and globalism were two sides a squeeze mop
that was rapidly overwhelming the average Joe Blow who was caught
in the middle. Rising costs, taxes and regulation for the sake of
creating a false service industry selling everything from safety
gear, audit compliance, training and licences, were all milking the
last drop of blood from the average world citizen. In principle all
the regulation sounded like a good thing but constantly changing
rules and standards meant that no-one could keep up and fully
comply for long. Except, that is, the large global companies who
had massive corporate departments and budgets to handle the
paperwork and had the economy of scale. Drugs and alcohol, shopping
in all its consumerist glory, sport and entertainment had long been
the tried and true distractions to what was going on in the world.
But since the financial crisis of 2008 a lot of that had been
priced out of the reach of many. Ironically it wouldn’t be long
before the world had its first trillionaire if it didn’t already.
It was hard to tell with the world’s oligarchs, they hid so much
from the tax man.

It was like the world had a bad case of the
fleas. As one person on his own he didn’t see any way of fixing the
problem for good but he could eradicate or at least contain one or
two of those fleas, like the ex Republic of Translavia president.
That job had meant acting his part as the cold-hearted arrogant
prosecutor to the full.

Only he and a few close acquaintances knew
his professional veneer was an act. It was like another set of
attire he donned for the job. A job he greatly enjoyed not so much
for the intimidating role he played but for the satisfaction of
cleaning up the planet of the slime balls that all too often got to
lead countries and armies. But whenever he came home to Australia
he liked to let go and be himself for a bit. He still had to be
careful about it. There was still his professional persona to
maintain. Only around his dearest friends or in the safety or the
very private club he was a member of did he let his other side out
to play. He liked role play, very very much. Unfortunately it was
Monday and the club didn’t operate except on weekends.

The elevator doors opened and he exited,
casually strolling the length of the hall to an unassuming door
marked 901. A tall suited muscleman with almost no neck managed to
threat assess him without even twitching his eyebrows. Okay, the
man was really a thug but Lewis preferred to be politically correct
even when thinking. He gave the man a curt nod. “I’m here to see
the CEO, Ms Jones, about the position she advertised.”

“
Indeed.” The man smirked then turned
to open the door for him. “You’d best not keep her waiting
then.”

Inside the lavishly carpeted room was a
woman seated behind a large ornate polished walnut desk. She didn’t
look up as he entered. It seemed she was busy at her computer.
Probably checking the stock market reports. He coughed as politely
as he could to alert her to his presence. She ignored him. Ten
whole painful minutes slowly ticked away on the clock on the wall.
He stood his ground, taking in the woman’s measure.

Her hair was pulled back in a tight french
braid of ebony that trailed down her back. She wore a finely
tailored high collared suit. He wondered if she might be wearing a
silk blouse under that. Perhaps offset with the finest pearls that
Broome could provide. If not he might just have to buy her
some.

Closing the lid of her laptop she looked up,
her ebony eyes piercing him. He melted.

“
Mr Sutterfield I presume.” She
glanced at the clock on the wall. “You’re late.”

He sputtered. He’d been on time but if that
was the game she was playing he’d go with it. “My apologies Ms
Jones.”

“
Hmm.” She didn’t sound impressed.
Rising from her seat she went to sit on the front of the
desk.

Crossing her legs only served to give him a
tantalizing view of her lack of undergarments. His pulse quickened.
He watched as she picked up and opened a manila folder from her
desk, appearing to peruse the contents. “I see you can type Mr
Sutterfield, although you’ll need to improve your speed. I need
someone who can take notes and field my phone calls but you’ll have
to be at my beck and call. How can I be sure of your
commitment?”

Time to grovel perhaps. He went down on one
knee and lowered his gaze. “Please Ms Jones. I need the work. I’ll
seek to please you whatever way I can.”

She slid herself gracefully off the edge of
the desk and stood in all her glory, peering at him assessment.
“Hmph. You’ll have to do better than that. Strip for me then get
down on both knees, not one, and ask again.”

He shuddered in anticipation but his pause
only brought a reprimand.

“
I haven’t got all evening Mr
Sutterfield.”

He stood up and loosened his tie and started
unbuttoning his white shirt, only to have her grab his chin and
turn his head to hers.

“
Eyes on me, not your
clothes.”

She was a hard case this one but his blood
heated in response. “Yes Ms Jones.” By feel he managed to undress
himself without once losing eye contact. He lowered himself onto
both knees then straightened his back like he had a ruler down it,
placing his hands palm down on his thighs, waiting.

Ms Jones eyed his rigid flagpole of a cock
and smiled. “I see I have your attention Mr Sutterfield.” Her
tongue wet her lips in anticipation. “Let’s see how well you can
suck pussy.

“
Ms Jones?” Lewis tried his best to
sound shocked.

“
Now, now Mr Sutterfield. Don’t be
coy. I have no time for prudes. Come here.” She commanded him as
she resettled herself on the edge of the desk. As he started to
rise she tsked. “I didn’t tell you to get up. Crawl to me. On all
fours.”

Not even a please, god she was good. “Yes Ms
Jones.” He tried to sound exasperated but inwardly he revelled in
what she was dishing out. He pushed up her skirt and let his head
rub against her in her thighs. She was wearing suspenders. He just
loved suspenders.

She almost purred but then seemed to
remember her role. “You’re dawdling Mr Sutterfield. Get on with
it.”

His tongue flicked over her swollen clit and
she rewarded him with a murmured groan. He explored her warm inner
folds, licking deep.