Chapter 8: Date Knight

Friday Afternoon and Night, May 23, 2008

“Sam, I know what you want, but I had an idea about something we could do now to stretch the night out. How would you like to go on a date? An overnight date?”

“What! A date?! How ... what ... where ... I have nothing to wear.”

“Yeah, big surprise, I figured that might be the case. Yuk Yuk Yuk ... Now, I am not objecting to you having nothing to wear, but knowing you, how about we start there? Then supper, and maybe a stop or two after. Night club dancing, comedy club, a movie ... your choice. Then we can play ... we can relax. Get naked and do it on some devices. Sleep in a bedroom without nerds molesting your privates. Are you interested?”

“Your SEX DEVICES! Oh Paulo, you say the sweetest things, I could just kiss you!” Normally I discourage kissing from employees (most of whom are men), but we were in her studio-bedroom. So I let her kiss me, all hot and romantic, the type of kiss that said she was special to me, it wasn’t just sex.

Sam knew that I would marry a woman selected by my grandfathers to be my wife, possibly an indian. I would brief her on Abril. The point was that she knew things would not go farther. Which made my time, and my kiss, that much more important for her.

We made the most of the kiss, hot and loving and fun all rolled into one. It was what I would give Gracie if she was here. But she wasn’t, so Sam enjoyed it instead.

I’m pretty sure that makes me a dog, so I’ll just add it to the list.

Then I pushed one of the buttons every LA woman has hard wired in, the type of phrase they think a man can only say if he really loves her. When I broke the kiss I asked, “Where could we go to get a dress this late on a Friday night?” From her response - loud and dramatic with dancing and carrying on - I was sure nobody had ever said a sexier line to her.

She knew a place, a small shop that was close. In a flurry she grabbed 5 shoe boxes, shoved them into my hands, and we were off. Almost.

Just as we were about to open her door my phone rang. It was my dear Aunt Mother Marta, so I answered. She was so pleased with whatever I said to Gracie, the whole house was in a better mood - the best since they arrived. She had to say I was a great son. Legendary son. A man she would love to call her own son.

I reminded her that “in the Arab world I was her son, since she raised me and fed me at her breast.”

“I didn’t think you remembered that,” she said.

“Mother, we practice every time I get your wonderful body naked,” I replied.

“An old woman like me ... You seem to be getting better at it. A legendary son!”

Then Marta asked who I was talking to and like a dummy I told my dear Aunt Mother the truth. In the past Marta licked Sam, plus Sam licked Marta, so they were special licking friends. Now I had found Sam again. I was wonderful, a great son. Of course they had to talk. And talk. And talk.

Sam glossed over some of the bad things from the past few years, she stressed how we had kept in touch (pink) then suddenly, thanks to my faith in her brain, she had a job that was wonderful for her and paid like she could not believe. She went on and on about contracts and hiring people and doing adult things she knew she could do, she just never had the chance. I gave her a chance to shine. They talked for a half hour, then Sam said we had somewhere to be. She told Marta I was taking her clothes shopping for the second time in two days! Then on a DATE!

I got the phone back. Marta was crying tears of joy at the news, which she would not share with Gracie. Marta always knew Sam was smart (they were neighbors when Sam was between 4 and 10 years old, plus Sam lived with Marta and me one sex-tacular summer when she was 20). Marta sometimes thought of Sam as a step-daughter. Now she sounded so happy and successful. Marta knew the future was unclear, but for now I had made my mother very happy.

Sam’s door opened into the offices we rented for our computer firm. I saw two people there so I had to ask about how the office was covered while she was gone. She introduced me.

First was “Red,” a girl with a brush cut to her red hair, looked mid twenties, who was missing her most of her left leg. Sam introduced us, “Red here is my #2, she is on for the next 8 hours, then will stay here for another 12, in the crash pad or in front of her computer, it is a benefit of the job, and a big draw.” She turned to the girl. “Red, this is my boss. I’m the CEO but he is the Chairman of the Board. My boss. Also a secret so we won’t say his name.”

I signaled that she did not have to get up.

Red held out her hand to shake, her first words to me were “Shark bite, surfing in Oz when I was 16. Everybody wants to know about my leg. Glad to meet you Mr. Chairman. Do you do ‘I Did It My Way’?”

“I’m still doing it my way,” I replied.

Next was Mike, who looked to be 17, was about 5 foot 8 and built like a wrestler or football player. I knew he was actually 25, he had spent 6 years in the army doing cyber things. It was too confining and regimented. He was way over-qualified, but for this job and these people, and most of all the freedom to talk to other folks about what he was doing, he was good with us. “Mike will handle any calls from the law firm that Fred can’t handle.” Fred was on-site, one of the guys I had seen before.

She said Wiretop, who I met earlier, was sleeping in the crash pad. His shift started tomorrow.

“Wiretop? The guy who complained about me?”

Sam replied, “Let us say it is a combination of my soft heart and his better than average computer skills - plus a few flaws in his judgement, which is why he is kept on a leash. Here I pay him instead of him paying to sleep, and the internet is just as fast. Win-win for us boss.”

I mentioned we might be gone more than 8 hours, likely twice that, so Red and Mike said they were happy to stay on the clock as needed. Red planned to be on-site all weekend anyways so it was no problem. With her mobility issue she still lived at home, it was plush but her parents smothered her. For Red this job was a dream come true: fast computers, geeks for company and to boss around, plus no parents.

Sam said, “Actually, Red and Wiretop should both be paying me, the job is ideal for them. But I don’t work that way, they get what they are worth for the job they are doing. I hope that is okay Boss.”

It was what I had given her as a plan.

On the way out I saw Red’s van in the Handicap spot. It was a new bright red Sprinter, the new model and I could see it was extensively customized, starting with a shortened wheelbase and increased ground clearance. Custom paint. I knew it cost more than $100K, maybe 3 times that. Sam confirmed it, she said the Red lived in a nice neighborhood, the street was not that far from my mansion. Her parents were nice but they really smothered her with attention especially during the weekends when they were home. The job gave her a welcome escape.

I really should have switched cars at this point, I was still in the Chevy pickup, and I had my Batcave vehicles in the same lot. But I did not want to show Sam, and I did not want to play games, so I stayed with pickup. Little mistakes like that can get a guy killed.

During the drive I rationalized the phone call and the time spent by thinking the the clothing store had a closing time, and that by talking to Marta for a half hour there was a half hour less time for me to say “how wonderful” different outfits looked on Sam at the clothing store. I was right, we got to the clothing store only 40 minutes before closing. Sam picked out three outfits, didn’t have time to ask my opinion, and we left with 5 minutes to spare. She wore the outfit that went with one of the five pairs of shoes she brought along. (Actually, I carried them, more proof that I loved her.) She had to buy more shoes later, that is how it works. If there had been more time I would have watched her model them.

For dinner Sam wanted Prime Rib. Shrimp was good for the closing kabuki with Barnes but for real food at night she wanted beef. I took her to “Samy Samba,” a Brazilian place that had great prime rib seasoned to perfection with all the trimmings. They also have the best french fries with this light gravy. Plus the freshest corn on the cob in the city. She had heard of the place and was excited to be actually going there.

As we were on the way she said that she loved the idea of a date and everything, but she had a problem because, more than the best beef in town, she wanted a different type of meat, “if you know what I mean.” She knew my time was limited, but she stressed that if she had to choose one or the other, she would rather have a quick hamburger and more sex-device plus bed-time with my body.

Well, that gave me an idea I filed away for later, maybe she could have a little variety during the night.

“I said this was an overnight date, I imagine it will end with you being well stuffed with both instead of having to choose one or the other. Why do you think I asked about coverage at the office? Relax and have a good time. I am doing this now, with you, because I can and because you have done so well and I want you happy with clothes on and clothes off. Plus I like the company. Okay?”

“Well, I just wanted to be sure about the ‘other meat’ you yummy man. You are too good to me.”

I did not argue with that, I have such smart employees.

Dinner was wonderful. A number of places in LA have great prime rib that is super tender, moist, and flavorful, the difference is in the seasoning. Samy gets the seasonings to permeate the meat in a unique and wonderful way. Sam could not believe how good it was.

After dinner she wondered about dancing so we went to a cocktail bar with a dance floor. “Cuba 1957” tried to capture some of the atmosphere while using modern technology. The place had a regular crowd, not too many outsiders, so it was friendly and safe. A few members of 49 were there, as both guests and employees. Per standing orders they did not acknowledge me, but I got in right away and was shown to the best seat in the house.

They had a comedian on stage entertaining between sets when we walked in and a small dance band - male and female singers plus a DJ/keyboard/iPod thing punched up with bass recordings and a drum machine. They did a very good imitation of the past era dance club mixed with some modern comedy. Slow dancing music was over 50% of the time, and we took advantage of it. Sam was in paradise, or whatever Hindu’s call it. She never expected that I would spend a night dancing with her, telling her with my time and attention how wonderful she was at the job I gave her. (She deserved it.) Plus it was the perfect warm-up for sex; Sam could turn on in an instant, but by warming her slowly it would be that much better for both of us. (I deserved that.)

The natural thing was for us to go back to her place, but from the start I was inspired for a different idea, that was why I mentioned “devices.” Just to make sure I broached the idea of some machines, I specifically mentioned the tension table. She had heard of this device and she was more than willing to get stretched inside and out. So when we left the club I bagged her, pulled the battery from her phone and drove her to my secure classified location - the Fort. She was delighted and had no problem with the restrictions. I was going to have her naked, so she did not care what the bag did to her hair.

During the drive I asked her about one other surprise I had in mind, something I did not define. She was thrilled and put herself in my hands, I was sure that she would be delighted, but it was not something she would expect, it might even shock her until she got it figured out. I did assure her there was no physical pain involved ... unless she asked very nicely.

When we got to my safe house I led her downstairs before I took her bag off in the play room. She was very excited to see all the toys; she went around the room, putting her hands on each shiny bit of sex tech that caught her eye; she was like a kid in a toy store. After going around the room she did not know where she wanted to be screwed first, so I spent a few minutes talking about each piece. The cross and the horse drew her, but she kept going back to the tension table. Finally she asked, “Please?” She could not wait.

I took her up to the bedroom to get undressed and showered. She put on the tension table binding gloves after her shower. While she was busy I had a quick call to make.

Qwit lived next door, it was his job to watch over the safe house. He also had feelings for Sam, strong affection as well as pure sexual feelings from when he knew her ten years ago. She shared those feelings but kept them hidden, since she really never expected to see the South American indian again. I outlined to him what I was thinking. He was very thankful for the chance to be a part of it. We made plans.

Ten years ago Marta had been living in LA with three indians helping her: Qwit, Cassie and Bill. Cassie and Bill were a married couple, they were both roughly 6 foot 6. However, marriage between the indians is a little different so we all had our own individual rooms and we all moved around from bed to bed at night.

The ancient Incas granted teenagers an age of “folly” when they were allowed to explore physical desires and pleasure with others, an age after the play of children but before they were allowed to consider marriage. The indians of my tribe also used this tradition with a significant difference: women controlled who they had sex with, whether they or the partner was married or not. Also, our age of “folly” was older than the Inca’s.

My indians do not have fidelity as part of their marriage, both married and single women can couple with whomever they chose so long as there is no danger of conception. (They figured out female cycles over a thousand year ago.) Nor is “love” a factor in marriage, married women and men often have others they love and spend time with, a married person was more likely to live with their lover (changing lovers was common) instead of their spouse, except for the wife’s fertile days when breeding was a duty. Marriage is strictly for breeding, when a woman is fertile she takes her husband to her bed and they breed repeatedly for the improvement of the tribe. (I think of the Victorian Brits, when they submitted to their husbands the wives were told “lie back and think of England.”) Married couples are selected by the elders, it is mandatory and mostly for genetics. This is the only marriage the tribe recognizes, a women was expected to produce babies with their husband, and only with their husband. Unless their elder ordered an exception.