Best Served Cold Aidan Clay unconsciously rubbed the rigid muscles at the back of his neck and leaned closer to the glowing green numbers on his computer screen. The figures swam and blurred before his bloodshot green eyes, sending another wave of tension surging up his spine to wind the muscles into a spasming knot. He sucked in a sharp breath, grimacing at the pain, but his eyes never left the eerie glowing screen. He reached for his half-empty coffee cup with fingers that shook from a combination of too much caffeine and too little sleep, and took a quick sip of the cold liquid, unaware that his hair stood on end, his tie was askew, and his shirt was stained with nervous sweat. He wouldn't have cared if he had known. The audit started on Monday and unless he wanted to wind up residing in the state pen, he had to have this stuff fixed by that time. Aidan worked in the accounts payable department at a respectable pet food company and had embezzled something over fifty thousand dollars in the past year. He thought his plan was foolproof. He created dummy corporations, then placed modest orders for common supplies. When the checks were cut, they came to him and he cashed them into a holding account. It wasn't a lot of extra money, not enough to be missed, especially not by a company as big as Happy Pets. Only problem was, he hadn't factored in year-end inventory. Fifty thousand wasn't much money, but it would sure as hell buy a lot of pencils. Pencils that couldn't be accounted for. Aidan felt a rivulet of sweat trickle down his back, accompanied by a crippling pain that gripped the back of his skull. He had to fix this, but how? He'd been trying to come up with a plan all day long and still didn't know what he would do. Jesus, what had he been thinking? He'd traded his future for a measly fifty grand and he had nothing to show for it. Nothing. The screen blurred as unaccustomed tears of pure frustration pooled in his eyes. He dropped his head into his hands, tasting the bitter tang of panic flooding his mouth. A blinding flash of lightening followed by a deafening crack of thunder jolted him upright with a hissed curse of surprise. Fuck! Periodic bursts of light into the darkness drove home the fact that night had fallen and all his coworkers had all left for the weekend. He hadn't realized he had been working for so long. He sighed, rubbed fatigue gritted eyes wearily with the heels of his hands and blearily returned his attention to the computer screen. It only took a moment or two for him to understand that he wasn't going to get anywhere until he'd taken a break. Maybe not even then. He stood and stretched his cramped muscles, uncomfortably aware of the sweat dampened fabric of his fine wool pants against the skin of his thighs and between his legs. He generally preferred to wear boxer shorts because they were less confining, but today he'd been in too much of a hurry to hunt a clean pair down and had been forced to forego such amenities. The unusual sensation of the wool brushing against his testicles and caressing his dick would ordinarily have been most distracting, but today hardly qualified as ordinary. He rolled his shoulders restlessly, grimacing at the feel of his limp, wrinkled dress shirt clinging to his broad back. God had he been sweating today! He would have to have his suit dry cleaned for sure. That is, providing he still had a job after tomorrow. He sighed and walked out into the dark hallway, carefully withdrawing a cigarette from an ornate silver case. He lit it while standing directly beneath a no smoking sign, amused as always by the irony of the act. He would flick the ashes on the floor too, and probably grind the butt out on the side of the sign. It was a small act of defiance but no less important. The acrid taste of smoke overwhelmed the sourness of the fear that had taken up residence on his in his mouth and a wave of sedating relief rushed through his limbs, carried by tiny molecules of nicotine transmitted through his bloodstream. He crossed to the door and watched flickering tongues of lightening stretch greedily toward the earth in amazingly intricate patterns before dissolving into the darkness without a trace. Another clap of thunder as loud as a gunshot startled him, though he'd been expecting something of the sort. It was going to be a pretty intense storm. He took another deep drag off his cigarette, held the smoke deep in his lungs for a moment, then released it on a long exhale. Yeah, having a smoke was a good idea. He could feel tightly clenched muscles all over his body responding to the familiar soothing ritual and the dagger sharp pain behind his eyes was slowly easing. He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes to better appreciate the relaxation. A side benefit to walking away from his problem for a moment was that he was beginning to enjoy his current state of partial undress. His mother would be shocked. Aidan grinned at the thought, shifting his hips to generate a tiny bit of friction against his swelling sex. She was a lady in the truest sense and would have beaten him bloody for daring to walk out the door with no underwear on. Ah fuck her anyway. She wasn't here to see. No one was. A tantalizing thought stole into his over tired brain, something that never would have occurred to him had he been in his right mind but he really did need to relieve some stress, right? If he didn't relax, he was never going to figure out the solution to his problem and what better way to do it than to blow off some sexual energy? His hand shook a bit as he lifted the cigarette to his lips and took another quick, nervous drag. Too bad the security guard was a guy. They'd had a female here for a while but she'd been raped one night and quit. Well, what good was the bitch to the company if she couldn't even protect herself? No, this would be a solo operation, not as good as sharing the pleasure, but it would have to do. He dropped the cigarette to the gleaming white tile floor and crushed it out with the toe of his polished oxblood loafers, heart racing with the excitement of the forbidden. He made his way back to his office through dimly lit corridors, gliding past walls lined with showcases of various pet foods and awards, advertising literature and more. No one was permitted a locked office in these days of camaraderie and teamwork so he was able to slip into his boss' office without any trouble at all. She was a royal bitch, showering the entire accounting group with smiles and soft assurances while planning which worthless sack of shit to fire next. He hated working for her, though it wouldn't have been so bad had she been a decent human being. Not to mention the fact that everyone knew she'd sucked and fucked her way to the top. Rumor had it she'd started off in the accounts payable department as a clerk, something that might have given him cause to hope, but he hadn't been blessed with the right equipment to take that route to the top. He settled into her plush, ergonomically designed chair, his cock as hard as he could ever remember it being. His eyeballs felt hot and his palms itched, a throb of longing stabbing him in the belly. Christ he needed this! He swallowed hard, trying to slow his breathing down, and carefully lowered his zipper, allowing his stiff prick to spring free. He stifled a groan and touched himself, just the barest brush of his fingertips, imagining what he would do if Isabelle were to walk in here right now, her shoulder length blond hair swept up in its usual twist, her slim, lithe body clad in a fancy velvet evening gown. "Aidan!" She would be shocked, outraged. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" And he would open his eyes slowly and take a nice, slow inventory of her assets, lingering on those firm, round tits. It would be a low cut number with half her breasts exposed, slashed down nearly to her navel. He'd know she wasn't wearing a bra because she couldn't and that the firmness of her flesh was due to the care she took with her body. She had three kids but it was perfectly clear none of those snot nosed little brats ever sucked on her tits. He would smile slowly, lick his lips and lean back in her chair. "I'm jerking off all over your desk, bitch. What does it look like?" She would flinch with surprise at the insolent drawl, that thin mouth drawing tight with displeasure, her fingers clenching on her tiny, useless evening bag. "That's it, Mr. Clay. You are fired. Now, you can leave now or I can call security. Don't bother stopping at your desk to clean it out. I'll have someone clean it for you." He'd let his smile stretch across his face and stroke his hand over his prick again....ah, shit that was good! He groaned softly, running his fingers over the taut, velvety surface of his balls and back up the shaft, imagining how her lightly tanned face would turn a dull shade of red and she would stalk over to the desk, push his feet off the edge, reach for the phone. He would grab her wrist so hard she'd have bruises and shove her backward, make her stumble on those worthless three inch strappy sandals she worth and fall flat on her ass. "No, Isabelle, you fucking whore, it's not going to work like that this time." He would be out of the chair and around the desk before she understood what was happening, towering over her delicate body, crumpled on the floor like a rag doll, mouth open in surprise. "How dare you - " She would gasp, one hand pressed to her bruised wrist, still deluded into thinking that she had some power in this situation. "Shut up." That's all he would say. Just that. Then he would dig his fingers in her stiff, moussed hair, drag her head back and present her with his cock. He wasn't overly endowed, but he'd never had any complaints. It measured seven and a half inches and was nearly three inches in diameter. It was the width that usually took women off guard and it would be no different with dear Isabelle. Her eyes would get all teary from the pain of his fingers twisting in her hair and would go wide with understanding and terror. She'd clamp her mouth shut fast, trying to plead with her expression, trying to shake her head in denial. He gasped, pressing down on the base of his cock to keep from losing it at the image of her classically beautiful features all twisted up with fear. //Oh yeah, you will suck my dick, Izzy, baby.// He would shake his head sorrowfully and smack the bitch across the face with an open palm, leaving behind angry red imprints of each individual digit. "Open your mouth, Izzy," he would whisper. She would shake her head, sobbing softly and he would drag her head back around so she could look into his eyes. But she would clench her eyes shut and tears would squeeze out from beneath her thick, mascara coated lashes, trickling down her smooth cheeks, to leave black smears across her face. "Don't make me hurt you, Izzy. Open up like a good little girl because if you make me damage you, you won't ever be able to look in the mirror again without gagging." He grinned and chuckled breathlessly, panting with the effort of retaining control of his body. He could almost feel her slender body shuddering against him, could just about hear the wracking sobs... "Please don't hurt me," she would whimper. "Whatever you want. I'll do whatever you want, just don't hurt me." He would roll his eyes, exasperated with her stupidity. How had she ever wound up as the division head? He would keep one hand wrapped in her hair and drop the other to one of her magnificent tits, ripping the fabric away so he could squeeze the ample flesh, pinch the half dollar sized nipple between his manicured fingernails. She would scream, of course; she was so bloody predictable, and he would backhand her again. "I said shut up. And open your mouth. I don't want to have to repeat myself, bitch." By now, she would be nearly incoherent and he would be aroused to the point of pain. She would open that bow shaped mouth and he would press his hot flesh inside.... Nothing could stop him from spewing like a fountain at that image. Isabelle, red faced, bawling and shaking with terror, her tiny mouth stretched wide to accommodate his swollen dick...he groaned and curled into the orgasm, heedless of where the thick, creamy fluid landed, his entire being overwhelmed by pleasure. When the shudders finally ceased wracking his body, he sighed and opened his eyes, pissed off that he hadn't been able to hold out until he'd gotten to fucking her tight little ass. Ah well. He snatched a couple of tissues from a gold gilt box at the edge of Isabelle's desk and roughly wiped the semen off his hand and her desk, brushing ineffectually at the white streaks that decorated the front of his trousers. There was no hope for it now, he would definitely have to get these pants dry cleaned, he thought with a reflective smile. Didn't really matter tonight though. He was the only one left in the building save the security guard who might or might not come by and he could always stay seated to hide the telltale stains. He stood and stretched, surprised at how loose and limber his body felt. Sex always had that kind of an effect on him though, which was why he'd done it. His mind felt cool and clear, the solution to his dilemma suddenly so apparent he wondered that he'd ever missed it. He tucked himself back into his pants and strolled back to his office, whistling Jingle Bells as he went. Twenty minutes later, he'd finished hiding his tracks and was about to hit the enter key to lock in his changes when his screen flashed and turned black. "What the hell..." Aidan frowned and flipped the power switch on the front of his monitor a couple of times. His file returned after a few seconds, but his relief was short lived. Random numbers and letters began to flash, appearing over the top of his data. Aidan felt a surge of panic. The images on the screen dissolved as though it had been dipped in acid and a message began to scroll. "Thought you were safe didn't you? Not safe enough. Now proceeding to reformat drive C." It took several moments for him to comprehend what was happening. "I got a virus?" he muttered, dazed. "How the hell did that happen?" He dragged a hand through his hair, wasting critical seconds while he struggled through a thick confusion. What was he supposed to do? Stop it? If he didn't, then there would be hell to pay come Monday. The auditors would never believe it was an accident and they'd be crawling up his ass with a microscope. So yeah, he had to stop it. The message was flashing now, 'reformat of drive C 20% complete'. "Fuck. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..." he chanted, scrambling for the power switch. He finally found it, pressed it in, and listened to the whining sound of the machine as it slowly died. For a long time, he sat staring in shocked horror at the blank screen, mind spinning uselessly. He couldn't turn it back on, he couldn't fix it himself and he didn't know what to do next. He hadn't gotten the chance to tweak the numbers the way he needed to which meant he was back in the same pot of shit only way worse because he had a virally infected machine. He lit a cigarette with violently trembling hands while he considered his options, flinching violently when he heard the soft spinning sound of the machine powering back up. "What the fuck - ?" he yelped, stabbing frantically at the power button. Again the machine powered down and wound back up a moment later, as if possessed by some vindictive demon. Panicked, Aidan dove under the desk and tore the power cords out of the wall then sat, back pressed against the cold metal surface of his desk, and panted, fingers pressed to his temples while he tried not to hyperventilate. He didn't know how long he'd been huddled under the table when the security guard came lumbering into the office. "Aidan?" He called. "You still here?" "Yeah, I'm here," Aidan replied, rousing himself only slightly from his numb stupor. "What the hell are you doing on the floor?" the guard asked puzzled, folding his hefty bulk with some difficulty so he could peer under the desk. Jack Elliot, the weekend security guard, was a morbidly obese man with sparse dark hair and a florid complexion. He'd worked for the company since the female guard quit and was passing friends with Aidan. Aidan had found it useful to cultivate the fat backwoods moron simply because it netted him certain privileges he otherwise wouldn't have, like access to his office on the weekend. In exchange, however, he was periodically subjected to long, wandering, pointless conversations he would just as soon passed on. Still, the reward was worth the price. "My computer went ape-shit on me," Aidan explained in a hollow voice, without glancing up. "I had to unplug it." "Tough luck huh? Hope it didn't mess up anything important." The desk creaked under Jack's weight as the uniformed man settled in for a nice long chat. Aidan laughed bitterly, shoving both hands into his hair. "You have no idea." "Well now, my wife, she works with computers, and I tell you what, I wouldn't have her job for nothing in the world." Jack commented sympathetically. "That shit is a real mystery to me." "Me too," Aidan sighed, though at the moment, he wished it weren't true. He would give anything to have a clue about how to clean a virus off a machine. Jack sniffed audibly and began to cough. "Hey, you haven't been smoking in here, have you? It's against the rules you know." "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry," Aidan apologized insincerely. He couldn't have cared any less about the fucking rules. "I was just so frustrated with this bloody machine. Her majesty asked me to have some accounting reports for her first thing Monday and I might as well look for another job if I don't get it done." Jack nodded his understanding, having been on the receiving end of Isabelle's wrath a time or two himself. "Well, if it's that important, maybe you ought to go talk to the guy down in processing," Jack suggested. "I just saw him a little bit ago. Those guys are even weirder than you all are, no offense intended." "What?" Aidan tilted his head back so fast he cracked it against the bottom of his desk, afraid he'd misunderstood what Jack had said. "The guys from processing are here?" "Just one. I seen him around here before, but I can't remember his name. You might want to give him a call. Couldn't hurt." Aidan swallowed hard and took a deep breath to steady his nerves. There was no guarantee that the guy down in processing was one of the computer geeks but there was hope again. "Thanks, Jack. Thanks a lot," Aidan smiled for the first time as he crawled out from beneath his desk and stood on shaky legs. "Maybe I'll do that." Jack, dense fuck that he was, didn't take the cue. He sat, smiling like the village idiot, and babbled about the thunderstorm and his bitch of a wife and how she wasn't spreading her legs for him anymore and what he'd had for dinner. Aidan listened with a tight smile on his face, feeling the tension crawling down his spine. //Come on....come on.// And finally Jack broke off in the middle of a graphic story about the tits on some stripper down at the juice bar with more tattoos than teeth, glanced at the clock and hefted his bulk off the desk with great reluctance. "Guess I better get going. I'll have to hustle to make my next check point now already. Good luck with your report." Aidan nodded, scarcely able to wait until he'd passed through the door before he was scrambling for the phone and the directory. He punched the numbers with trembling fingers, then wiped his suddenly sweaty palms on his slacks and listened to the phone ring. And ring and ring and ring. Fuck! He rubbed the back of his neck, cramming the panic that choked him back down into a tight ball in his abdomen. If Jack had made him miss this guy, Aidan swore he would gut the fat bastard like a fish. Then, miraculously, a click followed by a soft voice and Aidan's knees went weak. "Processing, this is Nicholas speaking." The man sounded curious, apparently surprised to be getting a call after hours. "Nick," Aidan sighed with relief, struggling to place a face with the name but coming up blank. "This is Aidan Clay in accounts payable and I was working on some reports for our fearless leader when my machine started acting possessed. I guess it has a virus or something. Is there any chance you would know how to take care of a problem like that?" "A virus?" Nicholas again sounded surprised. "That's odd. Do you have Internet access?" "Yes, of course," Aidan snapped impatiently, then, realizing how he was coming across he apologized. "I'm sorry, Nick. I didn't mean to be short with you. I just - it is just very, very important that I get these reports done for Isabelle." A short silence on the other end sent a shiver of dismay into his gut. Then, "Well, I'll come take a look. I can't promise anything though." "Thank you." Aidan breathed. "Bless you." He paced restlessly while he waited for the geek to show up and thought about going out to have a smoke. Just as quickly, the thought dissolved and he dug his hands deep into his pockets. Where the fuck was that little creep? When Nicholas finally did show up, Aidan smiled broadly. The geek was tall and lanky, taller than Aidan by several inches but slimmer and very, very pale. He had a thick shock of sandy brown hair that hung in limp, greasy strands around his face and a pair of tortoiseshell glasses sliding down his nose. He looked like a typical geek, with faded, rumpled dockers and a light blue shirt stained with whatever he'd eaten for lunch half tucked in. The pocket protector really did it for Aidan though. That and the calculator that stuck out of his back pocket and looked bigger than Aidan's cell phone. "Thank God you were here!" he gushed, ushering the man toward his desk. "I can't tell you how important this is." "I told you, I don't make any promises," Nicholas warned. "It might be too late." "Right, right. All I ask is that you try. I mean, you've got to know better than I do what's going on." Nicholas nodded and surveyed the machine for a moment before crawling under to restore power to it. "Looks like you made a pretty big mess here. What were you trying to do? Kill it?" Aidan laughed a little too loudly. "Kill it, right. Well, it kept turning itself on and I couldn't keep it shut off." Nicholas slanted him an odd look but didn't comment. Several moments later, the sound of the machine booting up whirled through the quiet room. "You don't remember me, do you?" Nicholas asked mildly, fingers lightly tapping on the keyboard. Aidan's heart sank. "Uh, no, I don't. I take it I should?" Nicholas shrugged. "I dunno. I sure remember you though." "Oh." Aidan digested that tidbit, trying to decide if it was a good memory or a bad one. Given the way he normally treated geeks, it was probably bad. "I take it it's not a fond memory?" Nicholas snorted. "You might say that," he concurred, clucking with dismay. "Hmm, it started wiping your hard drive. That's bad." "Can you fix it?" Aidan asked anxiously, leaning in close. "I don't know yet." Another short silence and then, "I'm sorry about - whatever. I hope we can both be professional about our differences and not let it affect our jobs." Aidan winced at the formal tone of his words, wishing he could recall them. "Oh I'm sure you do," Nicholas nodded, obviously amused. "You're pretty much screwed without me now, aren't you?" Aidan drew back, eyes narrowing. Smug little bastard, but what he said was true. Well, if all he had to do was swallow a little crow, it was a small enough price to pay. "Yeah, I would be. I really appreciate you being so - open minded about our history." Nicholas laughed, a short bitter sound. "I wouldn't call it being open minded, Mr. Clay," he murmured and spun around in the chair so that he was facing Aidan. "In fact, I think I would classify myself as being pretty vindictive in this case." Aidan began to sweat all over again. "What - what do you mean?" He asked cautiously, stepping backward as Nicholas rose from the chair. "I mean that there is a price for my assistance tonight," Nicholas explained gently. "You can either pay it, or I'll let the virus finish wiping your machine. And I'll make sure there is a nice trail of breadcrumbs that leads right to your door so that the auditors know just who ripped the company off. So what will it be, Clay? You up for twenty or thirty years in jail?" The entire room tilted and spun crazily around him, his heart lurched and his vision began to go dark around the edges. Aidan stared, dry mouthed and panicked at the slovenly geek who held his entire future in the palm of his soft, smooth palms and wondered how he'd lost control of his life. And Nicholas stared back, slipping his hands into his pockets, face cold and implacable. "What - what do you want?" Aidan whispered. "I don't have any of the money left - " Nicholas waved his hand in dismissal. "I don't give a fuck about the money. What you siphoned off is pocket change and you're a fucking idiot for risking everything over a paltry $50,000. What I want is more...personal." Personal? Aidan shook his head. "I don't understand. What do you mean?" "You will." The geek smiled, but it was hardly a reassuring sight. "It's very simple. I want to fuck you. You give me your body tonight and I'll straighten your little mess out for you." Aidan recoiled, stunned. "You're a queer?" He said incredulously then winced and wished he could recall his words. Calling the other man a 'queer' wasn't likely to help his case, true or not. "Doesn't matter whether I am or not." Nicholas replied with a negligent shrug, his eyes glittering. "Do we have a deal?" "I - I don't know." Aidan crossed his arms over his chest, and dropped his dazed gaze to the floor. Ultimately, he didn't have a choice. He needed the little freak and his expertise but Christ what a price! He shuffled, shifting his weight from foot to foot, stalling for extra time, but Nicholas wasn't inclined to be terribly patient. "I don't have all night, Clay. Yes or no?" "I - ah come on, man. I'm not a fag or anything," Aidan begged, face suffused with hot color. "Then that would be a no," Nicholas stated flatly, turning to shut the computer off. "No! I mean yes! I mean - wait." Aidan yelped, then sagged under the weight of his responsibility. "All right. You can - fuck me," he forced the words out, tucking his hands into his armpits to warm the suddenly cold flesh. Nicholas nodded but his expression never wavered. "Good. Let's go then." "Go?" Aidan protested. "Go where?" "Downstairs, of course. What you think I'm going to bend you over your desk?" Nicholas snorted. "That stupid security guard will be back eventually and I'm not going to get caught screwing on company property. Look, it's up to you, but I'm getting tired of having to explain myself. You either come with me and do as I ask, or you fry. I'll be in my lab if you decide you'd rather not become intimately acquainted with a bunch of felons." With that, the gaunt figure spun and stalked off into the dark corridor. Shit. Aidan didn't allow himself much time to actually think about what he was doing; he sucked in a deep breath and followed. Might as well get it over with. He'd never been in the basement of the building and was uneasily conscious of the way his footsteps echoed in the deserted corridor. The cinderblock walls were eerily blank and featureless, adorned only by door after metal door, completely unlabeled. What could they possibly need this much space for? He made a mental note to find out on Monday as he hurried along, trying to keep Nicholas in sight. It was such a rat maze down here if he lost sight of his guide, he might never get out of here. Nicholas shoved open a door halfway down the hall and ducked inside, briefly lit by the bluish tint of fluorescent tubes, a hue that was most unattractive on his pale skin. Aidan followed him into the room a moment later and received a vague impression of a multitude of flashing lights, huge spools of magnetic tapes, floor to ceiling shelves full of neatly labeled reels and tall computers from one end of the white floored room to the other. "Strip," Nicholas commanded, in the process of digging through a nylon backpack on the floor. Aidan hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and began unbuttoning his shirt. By the time he had his pants off, Nicholas had produced a length of rope and was waiting impatiently for him to finish. "Hey, that wasn't part of our deal," Aidan protested, shivering in the cool basement air. Nicholas smiled and cocked his head playfully. "True. But I'll tell you what, how about double or nothing? You let me tie you up and the minute you remember me, you go free and I fix your little problem. Deal?" Aidan felt his heart skip a beat. He *really* didn't like the idea of turning so much control over to someone who clearly hated him, but the possibility of a choice was no more than an illusion. Nicholas was just toying with him, pretending he had any power here. Aidan was the supplicant in these circumstances and the knowledge that Nicholas could change his mind at any moment preyed on him unmercifully. So he nodded, mouth set in a grim line. He'd already signed his ass over to the man, what more could he do? By the time Nicholas had finished, Aidan was secured by his wrists to a hook in the ceiling and he felt uneasily like a side of meat ready for inspection. Nicholas circled his naked form twice, nodding in enthusiastic approval. He reached out and smoothed his hand over various parts of Aidan's body, a brief caress to his thigh slid into a delicate brush against his nipples which led to the back of his fingers on Aidan's cheek. Aidan flinched from the gentle touch and swallowed convulsively, frantically searching his memory for some trace of the tall, greasy looking geek to no avail. It wasn't really that he thought Nicholas would honor their agreement and release him; he just wondered how bad he could expect it to be. What had he done to the man? Finally, Nicholas stepped back and fiddled with a careless array of tools scattered across the work table. "I saw what you did to that security guard," he murmured. "The woman, I mean." Aidan stiffened, eyes widening. How had the little creep known? No one knew about her. "I - don't know what you're talking about," he prevaricated. Nicholas laughed softly and held a pair of wire cutters up to the light. "I watched the security tapes," he explained. Aidan jerked in surprise. Fucking hell - security tapes? When had the company installed security cameras? "Yeah, I know," Nicholas nodded sympathetically. "No one knew they were going to put them in. Funny thing though. The cops looked for that tape for a long time but it seemed to have disappeared. Theory was that whoever raped her took the tape too." Aidan's eyes closed briefly. Oh Christ. "It was really hot. You know, I particularly liked the way you broke her legs with the tire iron first so she couldn't get away. Inspired idea." "Look, man, I don't know what you want - " Aidan began desperately, but Nicholas cut him off with a wave of his hand. "I don't want anything from you. Hey, I admire your style. You really know how to fuck a woman up." Aidan wasn't reassured. Especially with Nicholas comparing two different sized pair of dykes. His arms ached from being pulled taut over his head for so long and his ass was already prickling with awareness. He wished like hell Nicholas would just get it over with. "Yeah, I like that crowbar bit. You think she'll ever walk again? I mean you really let her have it, didn't you?" He shook his head in wonder and laid the tools down on the table. "It's fucking hot. I jerk off to it at least once a day. Oh, and the shot of you pissing on her face is a classic. A porn director couldn't have planned it any better." "Are you going to get on with this or are you going to talk all night?" Aidan demanded, finally losing his patience. His muscles were trembling with a combination of fatigue and fear and he thought he might have to take a piss soon. "Anxious, are you?" Nicholas nodded and grinned. "All right, let's get started." Aidan closed his eyes in relief, short-lived though it was. He certainly wasn't expecting what came next, the white hot, searing pain that screamed through him, centering on his nipple. He bucked reflexively, the sensation such an enormous shock his entire body clenched against it. He couldn't draw in enough air to manage anything louder than a wheeze in response and the stench of burning flesh threatened to send the contents of his stomach all over the floor. That was his flesh burning, he had no doubt of that somewhere in the clear, coherent part of his brain, a portion that was becoming smaller by the moment. He rolled his eyes down out of his head and looked to see what could possibly hurt so badly. Nicholas stood in front of him, face set in lines of intense concentration, dabbing something that resembled a pen against his nipple. Each time the tip contacted bare flesh, the skin hissed and sizzled and a small plume of smoke curled away from his chest. "Wha - wha - " Aidan squeezed his head back as far has he could, rolling it from side to side in mute denial, coherent sentences totally beyond him. "Cool!" Nicholas stood back, grinning, admiring his handiwork. "I always wondered what kind of damage a soldering iron could do to human flesh. Nice of you to volunteer to be my guinea pig, Mr. Clay. You haven't by chance remembered me yet, have you?" He cocked his head to one side and waited, but Aidan was beyond words at the moment. He'd never experienced pain on that level before and had no idea how to handle it though the worst of it seemed to be subsiding very, very slowly. It wasn't fast enough for him. "I'll take that as a no then," Nicholas sighed, reaching for a large alligator clamp with wide spaced teeth. He opened it and allowed it to shut with a loud snap to demonstrate the possibilities. "No..." Aidan moaned, terrified. "Please...don't." His legs were beginning to shake and he felt a warm liquid rolling down his thigh. "You're a real tough guy, aren't you, Aidan," Nicholas chided sardonically, eyeing him with contempt. "Pissing yourself over a little pain. I thought you were the professional here." "Oh God, please, please let me go." Aidan babbled. "I'll do whatever you want, just don't hurt me anymore." "It's not really up to me, at this point. It's up to you; remember our deal?" Aidan swallowed hard. "Whatever I did to you, I'm sorry. I'm an asshole and I'll do anything you ask to make it up to you. "You're already doing what I asked," Nicholas pointed out reasonably as he picked up two smaller alligator clips and attached them carefully to the soft skin of Aidan's testicles. Aidan was only half-conscious of Nicholas' calm, steady voice, most of his attention centered on the clips between his legs, which were cold and slightly uncomfortable but not really painful. He understood that the large, tightly sprung clip was to be clamped onto his other nipple but he couldn't figure out what the small ones were for. "But that's what I'm saying....look, I'll split the money with you. I'll get more somehow and - " "I told you before I don't give a fuck about the money. Believe me, when you remember me, you'll understand," Nicholas finished with a bright gleam in his eyes, reaching around to the workbench behind him. "No, please! Oh God, please listen to me - " Aidan's body jerked like a marionette being controlled by a palsied master and he howled with the agony. Electric jolts of varying degrees sizzled up through the wires attached to alligator clips on his testicles. Now he knew what the small ones did. It lasted for an eternity, longer than he would ever have thought he could withstand, before Nicholas ripped the little clips off without bothering to open them first. Aidan felt dizzy and sick, his brain short circuited by the prolonged and sporadic electric shock, vaguely conscious of a warm trickle of liquid lazily running down the inside of his thigh. "That's how they treat mental patients, you know, the more violent and recalcitrant ones. They give them a healthy dose of electricity to reset their mental pathways and try to guide them into forming new thought paths that are more appropriate," Nicholas explained in a conversational tone. "I think you qualify as violent for sure, and I'm going to show you the error of your ways. Are you ready to begin, Aidan?" Aidan lifted bleary eyes that refused to focus and tried to shake his head but his quivering muscles seemed to no longer answer to him. "N - N- N -" Even the tiny word 'no' would not emerge and he dropped his too heavy head, allowing it to loll bonelessly between his shoulders. "Good." Nicholas brushed a gentle hand over his sweaty hair then popped both hands over his ears hard enough to temporarily deafen him. A disorienting sensation rippled thorough him, centered in his stomach and finally tipped the balance. He shuddered and began to heave, vomiting up mostly coffee mixed with stomach acid. It burned the sensitive skin on the inside of his nose as it came up and spattered Nicholas' battered tennis shoes. He couldn't hear what was being said over the ringing whine in his ears, but he understood the physical commands of the rough hands on his body well enough. An open palm cracked against first one cheek and then the other and he moaned, the sound overwhelming inside his deaf skull. Nicholas jerked his bound wrists off the hook and shoved him to the floor, grinding one knee into his kidney as he was forced facedown into mess he'd made. Aidan choked and gagged, trying to lever himself off the floor with the strength of his bound wrists stretched full length over his head but wasn't allowed. The heel of a surprisingly heavy sneakered foot crushed his fingers and pressed warningly against his forearm. He collapsed and tried to turn his head but the presence towering over him was relentless. Nicholas rubbed Aidan's nose into the mixture of urine and vomit, then scooped some up and wiped it across his lips. His head still spun but Aidan understood what the man wanted. Understood but wasn't sure he could do it nor could he quite remember why it was so important that he comply. But it was...it was...so blindly, painfully, he bent to the floor and began to lick the mess up. While he was immersed in the dizzy process of cleaning his own fluids off the floor, he felt his legs forced apart. It was a distant, automatic awareness, a world apart from the concentrated effort he was making to not heave and retch the coffee flavored piss back onto the floor. It wasn't something he was conscious of, that he was licking up urine or vomit; those particular concepts were too involved for his muzzy mind to comprehend. His entire being was focused completely on obedience. The voice commanded, he obeyed, the hands positioned him, he obeyed. Nothing could have prepared him for the way it felt to have something akin to a baseball bat shoved up his ass, in any case. A strangled yelp of surprise left his lips, muffled by the floor, and he scrabbled uselessly on the cold, slick tile with both his bound hands and his widespread feet in an attempt to escape the tearing agony. Fingers twisted in his hair, a hand dug into his shoulder and the fire ripped up his gut, searing him, scorching him, destroying him. Tears pricked his eyes from the pressure of his hair being torn out of his scalp, one rocking lunge at a time. He arched his back, trying desperately to move his ass away from the blunt heat but strong, boney fingers dug cruelly into his hipbones to hold him steady. His throat burned from screaming though he literally had no idea what words were streaming forth. His entire world had been narrowed down to wave upon wave of wrenching agony, from the fire raging in his ass to the throbbing agony of his torn testicles to the insistent pain in his destroyed nipple, though the distinctions were nowhere near so clear and true. He knew only that he hurt, comprehensively, in ways that were wholly unnatural. Gradually, the sensations began to solidify into separate, discrete impressions and became things he could handle in a singular fashion, one at a time. His head began to clear and his hearing sharpened to the point that he could discern more than the throbbing of his own blood through his veins and the ragged, sobbing catch of his own breath rushing in and out of his lungs. He became aware of the warm flow of liquid down the inside of his thighs - blood probably - and of the distinct feel of each of Nick's fingers pressing hard against the bony points of his hips. With the renewal of awareness came the nagging thought that he *did* know this man somehow...somehow, yes, but how? His mind wander lazily through the past, picking random images to serve up for his inspection but nothing solid clicked, no single memory surfaced that he could latch onto as an explanation for this brutal torment. After the first sizzling pop of his nipple frying under the heat of the soldering iron, Aidan never once believed that if he remembered Nick it would all be over. In fact, he was beginning to believe that it would never be over because Nicky couldn't possibly let him go after all this. A simple rape would have allowed them to shake hands and part company, but this went beyond rape. It was something Aidan understood with ferocious clarity, the nauseating, terrifying knowledge that he was going to die tonight and that it wouldn't be an easy death. But if he were going to die, he at least wanted to understand why. He could hear Nicholas' ragged breathing above the soft ringing that still sang in his ears, along with the hint of a sob and it sparked a flare of resentment in his gut. What the hell did that little freak have to cry about? He wasn't the one being spitted and ripped open. The thrusts became more frenzied, harder, each stroke as harsh as a blow. He felt the slender, lanky limbs tremble against him, felt the muscles coil tight. Almost there then, a few more strokes...he wasn't sure whether to be afraid of what might come next or thrilled that he was about to be allowed to expel the intruding flesh. "That's right..." Nicholas panted, smacking his open palm against Aidan's hip. "Take it, you bitch!" And Aidan did, repeatedly. Then unbelievably, between a gasp and a groan, he heard it - the unmistakable sound of lumbering footsteps coming down the hall. Nicholas must have heard it too because the slim body paused mid-thrust then continued the motion until the stiff rod was buried deep where he remained for a long moment without moving. "Fuck..." Nicholas murmured without heat. The battering cock slid out of Aidan's ripped anus, the fingers fell away from his hips, and the heat of the geek's body disappeared but he scarcely noticed. He was grappling with the wild surge of joy that shimmered through him; another person, a witness, someone to prevent this psychotic asshole from killing him. He shook with relief at the realization that he didn't have to die tonight after all. It was a minor miracle, one he probably didn't deserve but didn't plan to argue about. He was just opening his mouth to cry out when brutal fingers twisted in his hair with surprising strength and dragged his head back at an impossible angle. "You shut the *fuck* up, bitch. Don't forget I can destroy you with a single word," Nicholas hissed, his breath hot against Aidan's neck. For an instant, despair nearly overwhelmed him but then he realized that no one in his right mind would be able to overlook the fact that this was rape. His hands were tied, there was blood on the floor and he was kneeling in his own vomit, not to mention the ruined flesh that was once his nipple. Whoever it was would help. He repeated the words over and over as if the mantra would afford him some protection until the clicking stopped outside and the door swung open. "What the *hell* is going on here?" Jack demanded, his county shit kicker drawl booming too loud in the small space. Aidan opened his eyes and slowly raised his head to see the fat security guard standing in the doorway, a half eaten jelly donut in one hand, his drawn gun in the other. Thank God. A keystone cop was still better than no cop and at least Jack had the presence of mind to draw his gun. "You'd better have one god damn good explanation for this," Jack blustered, unaware that the smear of red jam at the corner of his mouth gave him the appearance of a naughty child. "What do you know, Aidan, look there's Jack. Hey there Jack," Nicholas said warmly. "We were just talking about you. How's your night been?" "Back away real slow now," Jack warned without acknowledging the question. "Hey, take it easy man. Me and Aidan are just having a little fun here, aren't we?" Nicholas prompted with an easy laugh, one obscenely gentle hand tracing the vulnerable bones of his spine. Aidan swallowed hard, his breath coming in shuddering gasps. He couldn't say anything, not without throwing the rest of his life away, so he had to communicate everything with the desperation in his eyes. //Help me, Jack -- Do your job for once. Don't listen to him!// "That right, Aidan? You havin' a little fun here?" Jack asked, dropping his gaze warily to Aidan's face. Aidan forced himself to nod, choking on the tiny unspeakable act of self-betrayal. "We go way back, me and Aidan," Nicholas continued. "I ran into him at the club last night and - " the soft, dark voice hesitated and Aidan could almost imagine the subtle tide of color rushing into the pasty face. Goddamn, the little geek was good and that was bad for Aidan. //Please don't believe it...come on, Jack, you know me. Help me you fat freak!// All his mental implorations came to nothing. Tears flooded into Aidan's eyes as Jack's lips compressed into a tight line and his gun arm dropped to his side. "Well, shit, you could have told me," the guard complained, shoving his gun into his holster while he tore another savage bite out of the donut. The dark red jam looked like congealed blood against the powdery white sugar and the image turned Aidan's stomach upside down. "I was going to," Nicholas protested, shoving Aidan back down onto his knees. "It's just that Aidan didn't tell me until tonight how much he's been wanting to suck your cock, Jack." "What?" Jack recoiled and nearly dropped the donut in surprise. "What do you mean?" "I mean," Nicholas purred, "he told me he thinks you're really sexy in that uniform and it's all he can do to keep from dropping to his knees, opening your pants up and begging you to fuck his face every time he sees you." Jack's face turned a bright, ugly shade of red before all the color drained and left his cheeks a pasty white. He took a quick, hesitant step backward, thwarted in his effort to escape by the closed door. "But I'm married!" he squeaked, fumbling for the knob with panicked movements. "And I don't - I never - I mean, he's a *guy*!" "Relax, Jack, it's all right," Nicholas soothed. "The bitch is all tied up at the moment. He couldn't jump you if he wanted to...though he does want to. You know, he was telling me tonight what an idiot he thinks your wife is for letting such a fine specimen of manhood go to waste." Oh man...Aidan shuddered; things were about to go from bad to worse. He wished for a moment that Jack had stayed the hell away. Maybe then Nicholas would have just finished fucking him and turned him loose. It was a reach, yeah, but at least he wouldn't be facing the prospect of having his face rammed into Jack Elliot's flabby gut. "He did?" Jack quit hunting for the door knob and looked startled again, his eyes returning to Aidan's face for a more careful perusal. He frowned but his slack features reflected more than a little reluctant interest. "Yeah, he did but you know what he wants more than anything?" Nicholas dropped his voice to a low, confidential murmur that made Aidan's breath catch. "He wants you to fuck him with your gun. It makes him so hot when you pull it out he almost can't control himself." That did it. Everyone had their breaking point and Aidan had just reached his. His eyes went wide, panic bloomed, and his poise deserted him with resounding finality. "No, please, not the gun. Fucking Christ, not the gun. Anything else, I'll do anything, but I don't want to die - " Nicholas cut off the hysterical babble with a powerful slap to the side of his head. "Shut up stupid. You'll do what I want anyway, won't you?" The silky, compelling voice demanded an answer, the right answer but Aidan could only whimper and snuffle softly, which earned him another smack, this time on the other side of his head. "Won't you?" Gritted out from between clenched teeth this time. "Ye - yes." Aidan gasped miserably. He caught sight of the look of horrified fascination on Jack's face and recognized it immediately. How many times had his own cock twitched into painful fullness at the stark terror on some stupid bitch's face? How many times had he been forced to throttle his erection to keep from spilling prematurely when he found just the right button to press to emotionally dismantle his victim? How many times had that note of raw panic laced through a trembling plea driven him into a frenzy of excitement? Oh yes, he understood the game with an insider's intimate awareness and that might just be worse than ignorance. Jack's watery eyes glittered and he took a step closer. "You mean you really can pick someone up at that club who will be your slave? He'll do anything you ask him to?" "Anything," Nicholas confirmed. "Care to have a go?" Jack dropped his hand to the straining button on his uniform slacks and toyed with it for a moment, his expression clearly indecisive. "I - uh - I don't know." "Come on, Jack! Do it. Fuck him with your gun - you know you want to. And believe me, he wants you too." Aidan swallowed convulsively, his eyes caught by the pulsing bulge in Jack's trousers. Jack did want to. He saw the straining cock leap at the suggestion and a mottled flush crept across the thick neck. "But - " Jack started then stopped, fingers clenching on his waistband. "Come on," Nicholas coaxed, then stepped forward, took his hand and led him back to a spot just out of Aidan's sight. "That's right, Jack. Here, let me get it wet for you." The barrel pressed against Aidan's lips and he opened his mouth to accept the hard, metallic shaft without protest. There wasn't any point in it now, though he couldn't prevent the soft, snuffling whimpers of terror from escaping him. He heard Nicholas' breathing quicken, caught the soft, helpless curse that escaped from Jack, gagged on the oily taste. As abruptly as it had appeared, it was gone. "Here you go. Should go up nice and easy now," Nicholas said breathlessly. Aidan felt rough hands on his ass and shuddered at the feel of the cold metal sliding home. The pressure behind his eyeballs seemed suddenly terribly intense, his mind teetering with horror. "Fuck yeah. That's it," Nicholas again, reverent now, awed. Aidan shifted uneasily under Jack's clumsy attentions biting back a wild sob. The barrel warmed quickly, the gun more slender than Nicholas' cock and the passage was well lubricated. Though his ass burned where the skin had torn, tingles of pleasure were rippling through his abdomen and his dick was starting to revive. Jesus... "See? Look how much he likes that." A hand slid over his balls, Nicholas he assumed, and he jerked in response. "Harder, man. Fuck him harder." "God," Jack whispered. "This is so - twisted...." It was that to be sure, and Jack obviously hadn't realized he had the capacity to enjoy such perversion. It wasn't long before the gun was withdrawn and replaced by Jack's dick. No surprise there, though it was something of a relief, both because the insidious pleasure vanished along with the fear for his life. However he went, at least it wouldn't be from a bullet up the ass. He braced himself gritting his teeth at the pain of the violent thrusts but it didn't take Jack long to lose it. He felt the hot jets of semen burn the torn flesh followed by a huge sigh as Jack pulled free. "You know you gotta clean all this crap up before you leave, don't you? I don't get paid - " Jack began in a weird, gruff little whine but Nicholas cut him off, his voice traveling from somewhere far across the room. "Don't worry about it, Jack. Aidan and I will take care of it. You just head on out and finish your rounds. You have about enough time to make the next check point if you hustle a little." Jack cleared his throat, his pants rattling as he struggled to get them fastened. "You - uh - you won't tell anyone about this, will you? I'm a married man and all...." "I know, Jack and it's just between you and me," Nicholas murmured softly, stepping back into Aidan's line of sight. A chill rippled up Aidan's spine. Jack might not know it, but that tone meant nothing good for him....and oh *shit* what now? Jack lumbered toward the door, a hot, mottled flush creeping up the back of his neck. "Well, all right then." Nicholas smiled, a gentle, even, terrifying thing. "Have a good weekend, Jack." All the strength drained out of Aidan's limbs at the soft snick of the door shutting. He sagged onto the floor, overwhelmed by despair. Alone again...oh Christ. Nicholas watched the door with a strange smile for several long moments then turned back, eyes hidden by the light glinting off his glasses. "Well, Aidan, buddy, I think you and I are about through here tonight too. Are you ready to go home?" He laughed a little. "Well, of course you are, silly question." Aidan blinked, unable to believe what he was hearing. Nicholas hadn't even gotten his rocks off yet. "But aren't you going to - " He bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood. What, was he a fucking idiot? The last thing he wanted was for Nicholas to ram that cock back up his ass, right? But...something didn't feel right. "I think you've suffered enough tonight, don't you?" Nicholas asked, squatting in front of him with a knife in hand. He sawed through the thick rope and sat back on his heels, wearing a sober expression on his thin features. "You're just going to let me go? Just like that?" Aidan asked tentatively, not moving from his half crouch. "That was our deal, right? You let me fuck you, I fix your problem. End of association. Unless, of course, you want to make this a regular thing..." Nicholas' voice trailed off suggestively, but he sounded like he was already far away. Aidan didn't like it at all. It didn't feel right. "No thanks. It's just...how can you be sure I won't tell anyone what happened?" "I suppose it comes down to honor among thieves. Or rapists as it were. And you've got too much to lose to open your mouth." Nicholas shoved a hand through his hair, his tone matching the weary irritation written on his face. "Look, just get the hell out of here." "But who are you?" Aidan asked bewildered as he sat up with ginger care. His shoulder muscles hurt so bad tears swelled in his eyes. "What the fuck is this all about? I thought you wanted me to remember something." Nicholas shrugged and stood up, tone brusque. "Yeah, well, I'm sure it will come to you. Now get dressed and get out before I change my mind." Aidan scrambled to his feet as fast as he could manage, though he was scarcely able to stand, gathered his clothing, and limped toward the door. He couldn't make himself really understand that he was free. He kept one eye trained on Nicholas' stiff back, expecting the kid to turn around and shoot him or something. But he didn't. He just stood there in the middle of the room, hands resting on his hips. Truth was, Aidan didn't really give a fuck who the little creep was at this point anyway. All he cared about, all he could focus on was that he wouldn't be dying tonight and that he was free. Relief mingled with anger pulsed through him in powerful waves, weakening his knees and making him lightheaded and giddy. He'd heard of people who had their lives flash before their eyes and how it made them appreciate life all the more, blah blah blah....but the first thing to come to his mind was retribution. It was too early to be thinking about vengeance; he wasn't even out of the building yet, but he couldn't help it. It was his nature. He clutched his clothes to his chest, imagining the sweet taste of having Nicholas strung up naked, twitching under the tender mercies of a cattle prod. He wondered briefly what effect it would have if he rammed it up the geek's ass....and held it there. He was making a big mistake letting Aidan go after this shit and Aidan was lucky he didn't realize it. The thought sent a thrill through his gut and his cock twitched. But first..."What about my computer?" He asked hesitantly. He didn't want to ask, but he had to. He had to be sure. "Our deal - ?" "I'll keep my part." Aidan waited for something more, anything more, but Nicholas just stood there, silent and still, a tendril of smoke curling up from a cigarette he held cupped in one hand. Fucking freak. He shook his head in disgust, suddenly feeling dizzy and weak. Christ, he wanted to be at home! He wanted it so bad he shook with the desire. He took one last look at the hateful silhouette and yanked the door open. Cyanara, you bastard. He didn't really know how he made it home with shock setting in, but somehow he did. It wasn't until he was safely ensconced inside his three bedroom apartment that the fact of his freedom really sank in. He threw the four locks on his door and his knees gave way utterly without warning leaving him sprawled on the cold, hardwood floor, shivering with cold and adrenaline, for a long time. His ruined nipples throbbed and burned, his ass felt thoroughly lacerated and his balls were swollen and tender. His eyes flooded with tears and he squeezed them shut, clenching his chattering teeth against the wrenching sobs that tore at his chest and demanded to be set free. Everything had been stripped from him tonight, everything. Nicholas had stolen his pride, his dignity, his very control. And that was something that could not be forgiven, no matter what he'd done in return. Aidan spent most of the remainder of the weekend soaking his sore ass in the tub and rubbing ice cubes on his ruined nipples. He jerked off in a desultory fashion a few times to various fantasy images of Nicholas' body arching and twisting in agony. He hadn't consciously made the decision, but he was fairly certain Nicholas wouldn't leave their next encounter alive. The moment he finally allowed himself to take that final step, to imagine plunging a knife repeatedly into that skinny body, to dream of how it would feel to draw the blade in and out as it pierced that pale resilient skin, his cock leapt to life, harder than he could ever remember it being. He opened his eyes and stared at the pristine white bathroom ceiling. That was the only solution really. If he wanted his pride returned, he had to kill the bloody bastard. A shiver rippled across his skin and he drew his fingertips lightly down the underside of his cock. Blood pumping, artery red and garish against that narrow, heaving chest, the gleaming knife piercing vital organs....he gasped, hips thrusting involuntarily, driving his cock into his hand. The blade tearing through the sheath of muscles across that white abdomen, grinding around and around in a circle, making a home for his aching flesh...a warm, pulsing home, slick, vital, soft...and Nicholas screaming incoherently....Aidan clutched his throbbing prick, his entire body arching like an overdrawn bow, and shot his load halfway up the wall. When his breathing returned to normal and he could think clearly again, he smiled. He felt better already. Imagine how he would feel when he actually had Nicholas in hand. *** When he walked into the office on Monday morning, the place was alive with panicky people rushing around for no widely apparent reason. He caught the dumpy receptionist by the arm and drew her aside to find out what was going on. "Hey, Marcia. What's all the excitement about?" He asked, flashing a charming, intimate smile. She flushed a particularly unattractive shade of beet red and stammered for a while before she finally managed to spit out, "The CEO is coming. A surprise visit. The audit, he wants to be here for the audit." Aidan recoiled, then relaxed. Nicholas said he would fix things...they had a deal. Not to mention Aidan had logged in from home to make sure the fucking bastard did what he said he would. He had, lucky for him. Aidan smiled and leaned in close, put his lips against Marcia's ear. "Thanks for the info, darlin'. I'll remember you." Her hands fluttered uselessly and she swayed a bit. He had a bad moment thinking she might just pass out and expect him to catch her but then she flushed again, ducked her head and scurried off. He headed directly for his desk, whistling softly. He had Nicholas figured for a queer and he wondered if the guy had ever been fisted before. His mind obligingly supplied an image of the lanky figure, knees spread as wide as possible, jerking as Aidan's entire arm, covered in blood, rhythmically slammed in and out of his grotesquely stretched anus. Man...he nearly groaned, glad for the protection of his camel hair trench coat. He had a hard on that wouldn't go away now. He slid into his chair and flipped his computer on, relieved when it booted up straight away. He logged on and began shuffling through the papers in his in basket while waiting for his email to open. When he turned to his computer, the first message to come up was an imperative summons to the queen bitch's office. "Great..." he muttered. She probably wanted to chew his ass for the overtime he'd been putting in. Well, whatever. He took a sip of latte to brace himself and headed to Isabelle's office. Aidan knocked softly at the door. "Ms. Moreaux? You wanted to see me?" "Yes, come in, Mr. Clay," Isabelle beckoned to him with one imperious hand, her perfectly coifed head bent over a stack of papers on the desk. Aidan obeyed and was past the threshold before he realized she wasn't alone. A man sat sprawled in one chair, his features obscured by shadows. "Mr. Clay, I would like you to meet Garrett Winter, CEO of our little company - and a few others, of course. Mr. Winter would like to speak with you." Isabelle rose to her feet, her tone making it perfectly clear that she couldn't understand why Garrett Winter would want to talk to a lowly accounting clerk, but it was not hers to question. "Please answer whatever questions Mr. Winter has to the best of your ability." With that, she floated out of the office on a cloud of expensive perfume and Aidan wrinkled his nose. Then he turned to the shadowed figure in the chair, hand extended, a charming smile on his lips. "It's a very great honor to meet you, Mr. Winter," he said with an easy, formality, not wanting to come off as obsequious. "Sit down, Aidan," Garrett Winter ordered, ignoring the extended hand and Aidan felt a thrill of ice zip up his spine. It couldn't be...oh God, it couldn't possibly be...he sat abruptly, his knees too weak to support him any longer. "When I first heard we were having problems in this division of my company, I assumed it was all a big mistake. A misunderstanding of sorts. I mean, I pay my employees well - none of them could want to steal from me, right?" There was no mistake, it was Nicholas' soft voice coming from the shadows and Aidan felt sick. "So I came to find out for myself. Who would do such a thing? And you know what I found?" Nicholas/Garret Winter laughed softly. "Of course you do...I found you, a rising star in the company hierarchy, still far too low on the corporate ladder to be satisfied, unwilling to wait for success and not wanting to work for it." Nicholas leaned forward, forearms braced on his thighs, hands dangling from his wrists. "If that had been all, it wouldn't have been so bad, you know? I mean, I could have let you go with a slap on the wrist for that, but then you fucked up my security guard." He shook his head and wrinkled his nose. "Do you have any idea how much money that little fiasco cost me? No, of course you don't. You're a fucking idiot with about as much vision as a mushroom." Nicholas shot to his feet and crossed to the window where the light streamed in and outlined his spare, gaunt frame encased in faded jeans that had likely cost as much as Aidan's rent for a month and a white Henley. "So I wondered what I could do that would impress upon you how seriously stupid you really are. I mean, come on, fifty grand?" He snorted and shook his head again. "A child could make off with that and not get caught, but not you. You left little footprints everywhere. It took for fucking ever to find them all...." "Sir, I - please, I - I don't know what to say." "Then shut up and don't say anything," Nicholas advised acidly. "Because I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses." Panic held him immobile. Aidan felt his face burn with humiliation and a bead of sweat ran down his spine. //Oh fuck...oh fuck, fuck, fuck....// His mind spun a million directions, none of which were constructive. All thoughts of retribution had fled in the cold light of this revelation. He couldn't think how this had happened or what to do now. Jesus, what was he going to *do*? "Ever heard that old expression 'revenge is a dish best served cold'?" Nicholas asked, slanting a cold glance across the room. The dark, glittery glance lacerated him and Aidan began to tremble. He nodded, though the question was obviously rhetorical. "You ever find that to be true? That it's more satisfying to strike back at someone when you've had time to cool off?" Aidan frowned. It wasn't a question he'd ever pondered before. He simply planned and acted. He never thought about what would be more satisfying. Nicholas was waiting though, waiting for an answer. "I - don't know. I never thought about it." Nicholas sighed and ran his hand through the soft, stylish waves of an expensive haircut. Damn, he was good. Aidan thought of how he'd looked Friday night, food stained shirt, greasy hair, pocket protector...all an act. Jesus, how he must have been laughing at Aidan's attempts to bribe him. The piddling amount Aidan had stolen wouldn't even pay for a week in his decadent world. And now he remembered where he'd seen the man before - he'd been on the cover of no less than five different magazines in the past year. That he hadn't remembered so major a figure in the business world stunned him. "Yeah, well, that's been your trouble all along, Aidan. You don't think. Now me, I thought this out. I've been thinking about it for a while now, what to do and what would make me feel better. I thought if I fucked you the way you've been fucking me, it would be at least minor compensation. I could fuck you and fire you and move on. But it didn't make me feel any better. Halfway through, I knew that wasn't going to be enough. So now I'm stuck with a little dilemma and I have to wonder, would it have been better if I'd just called the police and let them deal with you?" Nicholas shook his head sadly and Aidan felt his heart seize with sudden excitement. Oh Christ, that was it...he had the sanctimonious little fuck by the balls, didn't he? He relaxed in his chair and smiled just slightly. "So tell me, Aidan, what sort of consequence do you think is fair? Hmm? You think what happened to you last night is enough recompense for all the trouble you've cost me this year? Or do you still owe me?" Nicholas turned to face him again, settled one hip on the windowsill and lit a cigarette, brows arched in inquiry. "Well, sir, I think whatever you think I owe you will be forgotten. I think we're even now," Aidan's smile widened a bit more. "Is that right? How do you figure that, Aidan?" Nicholas asked mildly, blue smoke curling into a halo around his head. "You raped me and if you keep pushing this, I'll tell everyone about it." Aidan hissed. He couldn't believe how easy this was going to be. Nicholas was a prominent man with a lot to lose, far more than Aidan in fact. He wouldn't place his position in jeopardy over a few bucks. Nicholas looked at him with a narrowed gaze, then nodded gravely, stood and crossed to the desk. He stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray with slow, careful movements and lifted the phone. "Marcia, send our guests in, please." When he'd hung up, he smiled. "What proof do you plan offer, Aidan? You've got nothing. I've got a video of you assaulting and raping a woman. Plus I have reams of evidence that you've been embezzling from the company. I think that your position is considerably less tenable than you think it is." "I've got an eye witness," Aidan pointed out, leaning forward, eyes glittering. "Jack will testify about what he saw. Think about it, Nick, you've got a lot to lose." "Jack?" Nicholas snorted. "Who's going to believe a broken down, blithering idiot like that? He's in the midst of a messy divorce right now. Seems his wife got some pictures of him fucking another guy...with his gun. It was really a sad situation." Aidan blinked and suddenly began having trouble breathing again, the connection immediately apparent. "But - but why did you do that? What did Jack do?" "Jack...Jack is a lazy, worthless piece of shit who found that security guard you raped and fucked her himself, just for good measure. By that time, she was unconscious and really had no idea what was going on and that's why Jack got off easy. He was just opportunistically stupid. I can't have him protecting my property though, not with that kind of poor decision making." "Mr. Winter?" A deep voice spoke from the door. Aidan didn't want to turn around. He didn't want to know. "This is the one," Nicholas waved his hand dismissively at Aidan. "You know what will give me the greatest pleasure, Aidan? It will be thinking of you getting your ass plugged every goddamn night." "You can't do this," Aidan protested, half rising in his seat. "Settle down, son," the uniformed officer advised. "It's too late for regrets now. You have the right to remain silent...." "You don't understand - we had a deal. We had a deal, God damn you!" Aidan shouted over the gruff recitation of his Miranda rights. Rough hands dragged his still sore arms back behind him and cold steel snapped around his wrists. "He told me if I let him rape me, he would let me go!" Aidan howled. "He fucking raped me!" "Are you waiving your right to have an attorney present?" A female cop asked as she stepped into the room, her delicate features impassive. Aidan stared at Nicholas, chest heaving, eyes wild, and shook his head. "No. I'm not. But this isn't over, Winter. Not by a fucking long shot." Nicholas smiled gently. "It is for you, Aidan. It is for you."
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