Nature and Manufacture (Chapter 2 - Gates and Legalities)
Reposted: 29/06/2011
Finally got back to this. This is essentially a rewrite of the previous bit which was just... frustrating, I think this version should work better. Don't forget to drop a comment.
Nature and Manufacture (Chapter 2 - Gates and Legalities)
The clicking of the golden arms echoed in her luxurious little office; it proclaimed 3:30AM from its perch over the door. There was no overhead light, only an imported desk lamp casting its subdued rays across the immaculately polished desk.
Cigarette smoke hung like a fog in the twilight silence, her pen a ship's mast, drifting studiously through documents on a journey to discover any displeasing deviations; single mistakes were identified and circled in red then placed the 'return to sender' box to be revised.
The last document for the morning was marked 'DSS Solutions: Merger Proposal' which had needed a revision, her night-dark paws flipped through the pages to the place-holder on page five hundred and fifty; her name had been replaced with the less precise phrasing "An advisory unit's suggestions concretized the plausibility of..." Her wide jackal lips smirked; even the most anal lawyers wouldn't notice the vagueness after having waded through five hundred and forty nine arduous pages.
The silver plaque facing the door identified her as B. Rosalie Echidna while her meager paycheck identified her as Rosalie Echidna and her investor's payout documentation referred to her as Brena Echigahiji. She snagged a sheet of paper with the company's letterhead on it and wrote beneath the name and logo:
"Curtis, I found my name in the DSS Merger file. You're to find all unreleased folders on the issue and read through them very carefully. You need to open those antennae you call rabbit-ears or I swear I'll have them cut off and made into dainty little gloves which I'll smack you with in front of investors and employees."
She folded the message and slid it into an envelope then smothered the remains of her cigarette in the crystal ashtray before gathering her things. She made her way through the deserted, ill-lit hallways, it was a short journey to rabbit's office box which read: "Curtis Pohl: CEO", where she deposited the letter.
The elevator opened, mirrors all round its insides presented her with multiple images of herself, she pressed G for ground floor and was assailed by a lurch and the resulting thrill of vertigo. Her thoughts drifted to the note and the possibility that the rabbit would one day turn on her and sink them both; she doubted it. Curtis, like her father, was one of those rare individuals who accepted her; he did not love her but recognized the mutual understanding, realizing it as the closest either would ever come to real affection.
Her mother had returned to her family in Egypt many years before, screaming sacrilege and unable to process her fourteen year old daughter's refusal to accept ecclesiastical traditions, her father had seen no more need for pretense now that they weren't in Egypt, religion was not as good for business in their new homeland.
"Show me proof mother! The setting sun proves to me nothing besides that it is time for night."
Brena's father had shrugged at the departure of his wife as he had shrugged at the mutilated corpses of Brena's pets; he had been wont to shrug. She had grown to understand him during her formative years, perhaps even revere him in a distant sort of manner before the cancer had stolen him:
"Money is the music that puppets dance to my girl."
The elevator opened up on the vast marbled lobby, her claws clicking noisily as she crossed its expanse. The night-guard, at his post, squinted sleepily at an array of security monitors linked to cameras throughout the building.
He spotted her "Morning Miss."
"Morning Fred." she acknowledged without a sideways glance interrupting her march. He had told her his real name once but had come to regard her as an eccentric secretary.
Emerging from the building into the snow, her jackal lips pulled a sharp grin at her newly acquired German-Shepherd sports car; its engine was an immense beast whose throaty roar fired her lustful blood; and yet the exterior design was one of simple, elegantly subdued lines and angles. It was like a lion; deadly quiet in the careful stalk but deafening and savage on the attack. She turned the key, shivering in anticipation when it purred to life, this deceptive beast breathed fiery self-assurance which spoke to some carnal crevice in her being.
She played nice with the throttle as she navigated ice on the tarmac towards the gate where the new rottweiler guard waited. His muzzle exuded listless clouds in the icy morning air from the doorway of the tiny gate-house which served as his office.
Upon spotting the car creeping towards him he stepped outside lifting the boom-gate. This had seemed odd when he had just started, at first she had thought him lazy but had subsequently watched his behaviors from her office; as far as she knew she was the only one from whom he asked no questions. Just a week past Curtis had stormed into her office in a rage:
"Your fucking convict refuses to let me out!"
She had sniggered derisively then "Didn't you have your security card with you?"
"Forgot it in my office; the fuck does it even matter Brena? I'm the goddamned CEO! You don't question your boss if you hope to keep your job, that arrogant little prick."
She had raised a bemused eye-brow at him "Are you, questioning me right now?"
His anger had ebbed immediately and the question had been settled. The rottweiler was indeed her convict.
She remembered reading his application; it lacked a high school education. It was not his application however, that had prompted her to attach a note saying "Hire him." It had been the document from the corrections department informing his employers of the reasons that he had been incarcerated. She had deduced that the rottweiler had at one time been a small time drug lord presiding over the very area in which her company now operated. This had been an interesting novelty; males who made puppets dance fired her blood; her father had made puppets dance.
He waited by the raised gate. Over time she had watched him carefully; the way his eyes moved, the gait of his walk, the square set of his shoulders, his uncowed demeanor, she had noticed the keen glint of a sharp intellect in his eyes; there was a finitely controlled savagery to the rottweiler. She had observed his reaction towards others; an apathy which bordered on predatory disinterest. However she had never had an up close and personal look at him, having filed him in the back of her mind as a novel curiosity to be explored at some point in the future.
His chest swelled at her approach, back straight and completely at attention. It was this behaviour towards her that made him intriguing. Did he, in his mind, recognize her as his superior or had he grouped her with the other employees? This ritual with the gate made her think otherwise.
Curiosity piqued she decided that this was to be the morning when she would sate her curiosity, she stopped her car to look him over; attractive, tall and lean, yet his demeanor betrayed a crossbred Alsatian and Rottweiler heritage. His eyes reflected neither a glint of cowardice nor aggression. She felt a glimmer of lust warming her belly as she imagined thick corded muscle stretched across his lank frame under the tight blazer.
She kept his gaze and waited for a reaction but he simply seemed amused behind his crossed arms.
"Good morning Fred, are you holding the fort alright?"
"My name's not Fred lady." His answer floated on sterile white mist.
"I saw your Curriculum Vitae Fred; sadly I didn't bother to memorize the name."
He bowed his head, tail swishing narrowly to and fro"Your suggestions must carry a lot of weight lady, considering I haven't lost my job as yet." she noticed a jagged stump of a broken left canine as he spoke.
"Why would you say that?"
He winked at her; a conspiratorial claw flicking his nose. "An ex-convict normally does not have the privilege of being hired as a guard, much less keeping the post after pissing off the CEO."
"I'm sure I wouldn't know what you're referring to."
"And I'm sure you would; I can see both your offices from here lady, if you were nobody around here then you'd have lost your job several times in the past few weeks what with the way you talk to him. The rabbit is afraid of you, I just can't figure out exactly why. You're predator, he's prey."
He's pulling strings, she thought, wonderful! Arousal burned hotly in her stomach. Her eyes softened, lips pouting, she pressed her breasts against the fabric "Have you considered that I might be sleeping with him? Maybe I'm blackmailing him. Maybe, I've dirt on the humpy-bunny."
He laughed, genuinely amused "In my experience whores and sluts are what they are for simple reasons; they use their bodies to get what they're unwilling or unqualified to work for."
"How is that not consistent with what I said?"
"What's the time?" he hunched peering over her breasts at the car's clock, traces of sickly sweet male attacking her senses; she watched him like a hawk but he neither blinked nor glanced at her body "It's almost 4AM, the rabbit ain't here, he never is in the lonely hours. But I always see you up there, writing up a storm in that office, working very hard. I'm also no expert but you can't exactly be having an affair with him by your lonesome."
She took his muzzle firmly between thumb and foreclaw. Pulling his face closer, only to be disappointed that all amusement dissipated, his expression fell into a flat passivity.
"You're very perceptive Fred." she breathed into his nose, noticing a thick scar over the broken tooth; it ran a poorly healed and jagged trail from the top of his snout and into his mouth. She traced a claw along contours of the scar; he seemed supremely uncomfortable as her claw ran the length of his muzzle alongside his head, up under his ear where she hesitated to scratch absently before passing round the back of his head to caress his neck. The dark patch of fur creased his forehead in discomfort above the lighter fur under it. The increased pace of his breathing sent tiny vapor clouds drifting towards her in quick succession.
He didn't say a word as her black paw burrowed under his collar, where she halted as she connected with a thick chain. Taking hold of the chain she tugged curiously until it revealed a golden disk hanging around his neck. The Rottweiler made to stand but her grip was a vice keeping him down and she kept him there with an authoritative command:
"Sit!"
"Lady, for fuck's sake!"
"Shut up Fred, I'm having a look."
She squinted at the disk in the poor light; a scene was engraved on its face, of two embracing figures; one resembled Fred while the other was smaller. She turned it around to discover that there was writing on the back; names which she couldn't read.
"Whose names are these?" she asked intently.
"No one's, let me go." he whined.
She dropped the disk, careful not to lose her hold on him by holding onto his neck once more, making sure he felt just enough of her razor sharp claws on his tender flesh to think better of forcing himself from her grasp. His eyes were wide, almost frightened but he held her gaze. She tried to nuzzle his snout but he turned away, and flinched as she flexed her claws into his hard but yielding neck muscles.
She licked her seductively smiling lips "Whose names are those Fred?"
"None of your fucking busi... nghh" he winced as she applied pressure.
Slowly closing the distance between them she ran her tongue lustily over the hairless scar. His heavy testosterone laden scent mixed pleasantly with his defiance; the smell was intoxicating. Face to face Brena observed his sad eyes and could not contain herself anymore; she planted her lips squarely on his. When he refused to accept the kiss, locking his jaw against her advances, she flexed the rooted claws in his neck and was pleased when he visibly shrunk; both his arms dropping into the snow to support the awkward squat on his fists. He submitted reluctantly. She playfully chased his disgusted tongue around with her own between his warm lips, reveling in the sensation of his powerful aroma and the rugged taste of his saliva mixing with her own.
She broke the kiss, a strand of thick saliva connecting them; huskily she whispered "Am I not beautiful?"
"As beautiful..." he grunted through heavy breathing, "as a doll - nghh! - stop that!"
"What's the other name on that pendant of yours?"she asked head cocking to one side with a sly, flushed smile decorating her features. She wanted to tear off his clothes and ravage him in the snow.
"The other name is Nicholas... Nikolai..."
She laughed, understanding his reticence at last "You must have loved him deeply Fred."
"The best lay of my life lady."He placed sarcastic emphasis on the last word.
"Before I let you go puppy, I have... needs. And you have stirred them. I find you delicious, even more so now."
"Fuck you."
She retracted her claws, placing her paw over the scar and rubbing it with her thumb "I know you're still on parole Fred. I know you can't go far without violating it. Perhaps you're eager to find your Nikolai, perhaps there's a tragic story behind that piece of jewelry. Perhaps, I could help you throw off your shackles."
He stood now. She noticed his clenched paws and the way they shook in suppressed fury. He grunted through clenched teeth but his wide shoulders dropped in humiliation, his defeated pride made her lust surge in triumph
"I don't think it's a price that I would want to pay." his breath huffed short ragged bursts of white cloud into the dark morning air. They weren't ponderous now; they hurriedly drifted away, one by one, into the darkness as if in haste to escape the tension between jackal and dog
"I know Fred, but that's what makes it worthwhile don't you see?"
"There were many just like you in prison; sadistic fucks that couldn't get off otherwise."
She laughed long and loud "That's a little unfair."
"What's your name?"
Still smiling she answered considering that he had deserved an honest answer at least "Brena. Think about the proposal my lovely guard."
The car's engine revved a load throaty roar. Without a further word she pulled away into the empty road. She left the Rottweiler standing in the cold by the little square gate-house. His neck stung and he remembered how she had wounded him. He reached for his neck feeling a wetness running over his paw, it came away bloody and sticky.
He turned towards the office building reading the company's name arched over the front door; suddenly the puzzle that was the jackal became more focused "Brentek Incorporated"
He whispered sorrowfully into the night "My name's not Fred, lady."