Chapter 45: Stalker Identified. Office Sex. Finding Land

Mark

Veronica Baldwin, the head of human resources for all of Worthington Industries, sat on the edge of the cushion on the sofa in my office early on Monday morning. Under other conditions I might have entertained a really subtle seduction, but that day I had something else on my mind.

“Veronica, every employee has had their picture taken, right?”

“Right. Even you, sir.”

“Are they digitized?”

“Yes, in each employee’s record.”

“And previous employees?”

“Yeeeessss. What do you need, sir.”

“I need to find who this individual is.” I pushed two pictures across the table. One was the artist’s sketch the police did based on input from Elsa. The other was a nice clear photograph in three-quarter view from one of the security cameras in KC’s gallery; unfortunately, the man wore a disguise.

“In the past five years we’ve had almost four-hundred-thousand employees, and that’s in this country alone.”

“Well, can’t you just tell the computer to do the comparing?”

“I’ll have to talk to our HRIS manager and see if he can do that on the computer. I don’t think the system will work that way. It’s old and needs replacement.”

“Why?”

“You put out an edict that you didn’t want money spent on staff functions unless it was critical in some way. At the time, a new system wasn’t critical and by your standards hasn’t been since then. I’m sorry, sir, but we’re only one small step up from manila folders and a lot of paper. The current system was created in 1989 and has been patched and glued together since then. It belonged to a company you bought in 2000. It’s over twenty-five years old.”

I nodded, acknowledging that I was hoisted on my own petard in this case.

Veronica offered, “It might be easier to send an email out to all managers asking if they remember this person.”

I paused and added, “Do it. There’s a lot riding on finding out who this person is. He’s dangerous, and we need to stop him before he really hurts someone. The police are involved.” I briefly explained what had been going on.

Veronica left with the pages in hand. I made a mental note to get her a new HRIS.

Wednesday morning, I took the limousine to city airport for a flight in the smaller jet to New York. I had a meeting with some Wall Street analysts about the company’s growth and whether we could sustain more quarters of good earnings. Muhammad had to go to the mountain.

When I got out of the car at the airport, I found an ongoing commotion of my two pilots and several mechanics and linemen from the FBO where we kept the two planes.

John Morris, the senior pilot, came over to me. “Sir, we can’t take this plane. It’s been damaged.”

“Damaged?” I asked.

John said, “We’ve found two bullet holes through the fuselage. Repairs have been ordered up, but we couldn’t take the plane over ten thousand feet or pressurize. Even if we did that, we’re not sure whether any of the systems or controls were compromised by the bullets. We have to pull things apart, inspect everything, and patch the holes. It’ll take a day or so.”

Lucas was with me. He was already on his cellphone calling the police. Like me, he’d made the connection to our stalker.

I asked, “What about the 737?”

“We haven’t checked it out yet. We’ll get right on it.”

We waited about twenty minutes to discover that N1MW, my large Boeing 737, also had several bullet holes through the fuselage and one shot right through the pilot’s windscreen.

I asked, “What would happen if we flew one of the damaged planes?”

The pilot answered, “Assuming we made altitude without noticing, a sudden blowout could have occurred. Depressurization. Very dangerous. Deadly, in fact. There have been planes it’s happened to and people died. One famous situation about two decades ago was when pro golfer Paine Stewart’s Learjet depressurized; it kept flying until it eventually ran out of fuel and then crashed. The investigation believed those onboard had already asphyxiated. Six dead.”

I turned to Lucas who had been racing around the area. “Any other planes hit?”

“Apparently not. You were the target ... or the planes were. Detective Sam Gunthrie is on his way here. What would you like to do?”

“Can we use one of the other planes?” I gestured around at the other expensive corporate jets nearby.

The pilot responded, “Yes. We’ve got one flying in right now. It should be here within a half-hour. I’m sorry for the wait. We should still be able to make your meetings on time, if I properly understand your schedule in New York. I’ll alert the limousine service and security on that end.”

I waited in the limousine, taking time to call Brita and give her an update on our stalker’s activities. I warned her that she also might be rising on his agenda of people to harass. I also let the girls know what had happened.

Eventually, we had an older Cessna Citation fly us into Teterboro Airport. By the time we got there, a large contingent of security personnel were waiting along with a caravan of war wagons and limousines. I made my meetings on time, and was back at the condo in time for a late dinner with the girls.

That night, I realized that the stalker and the various mischief he’d done occupied an inordinate share of everyone’s thinking, so much that we didn’t engage in sex. While the thought occurred to me, I didn’t miss the activity because I was worried about the girls and what would happen next.

Friday, in the office, Veronica Baldwin came into my office at noon. She hadn’t been on my schedule. Melanie, Izzy, and Sheila followed her in, but stood behind her. I’d been reviewing the strategic plan for our commercial electronics division.

“What’s going on?” I asked. Because they were calm, I knew no great calamity had occurred. Melanie would be broadcasting trouble if there were any.

Veronica looked pleased, “We’ve got your stalker. His name is Myron Tanner. He was laid off for performance problems six months ago.”

I looked to Melanie. “We should let Detective Gunthrie know.”

She smiled at having anticipated my request, “He’ll be here to meet with us any minute. Do you want to sit in?”

“Hell, yes. This is the most important thing I’ve got going on.”

Gunthrie arrived thirty minutes later. He, Veronica, Sheila, Melanie, and I sat with him in the conference room. Izzy took over the phones, but since it was lunch hour things were a little on the slow side. He was given a complete copy of Tanner’s personnel file, including performance evaluations and supervisory letters and comments.

Gunthrie asked, “Could I talk to his supervisor?”

Five minutes later, David Evans, a middle manager and aerospace engineer in the avionics division joined us. He summarized what he’d written about Tanner. “He was unstable, and I suspect he was bipolar and not under treatment. He’d go along for a week or two and be fine and productive, and then fall off the cart. His work would become erratic and prone to major errors; he’d have tantrums and almost assault someone he worked with. More than once he threw things around the office in a tantrum. We couldn’t count on him to do even simple tasks. We worked with HR to turn the situation around, but he refused to go to counseling or see a doctor; the company even volunteered to pay for it all and give him time off to go to sessions. Ultimately, we documented a case and had to let him go for performance issues. We all worried about retribution in some way. This is the first we’ve known that he was doing something to get back at us.”

Gunthrie stayed another hour, asking a wide variety of questions to each of us. I made sure that David Evans and family had some security around them as well.

An hour after he left, I got a call from the Detective. “Mr. Worthington, I just thought I’d let you know that we went to talk to Mr. Tanner, and he left the last address you had for him about the time he got dismissed. We are working on tracking him down now. Be vigilant.”

Elsa

Greg, Sean, and I worked late, ostensibly to start on some rough designs for a new town house project out in Osage County. We had a relaxed timeline on this one, so the project had become one that we spent the odd few minutes on here and there during the week.

When we were the last ones in the building, except for my security detail, I turned to Sean and Greg, “All right. Enough with work, I need to get fucked right here, right now.” I looked at the two men with my hands on my hips and a sexy stance I was sure attracted attention and started the development of some serious hard wood.

Greg smiled broadly and instantly got in tune with my agenda. “On my desk and office sofa, please. I want to create some memories in my office, and I’ve had this fantasy about you since you mentioned the idea. Hell, I’ve had fantasies about you since you started work here and I was a junior architect.”

We trooped into Greg’s office and shut and locked the door just in case somebody came back into the building for any reason. A few seconds later, I was naked and holding the cocks of two nearly naked men as they fondled, rubbed, and kissed me all over, paying particular attention to my needy breasts. Both cocks were the consistency of rebar steel, even feeling of the ridges and bumps that were about to bring me a lot of pleasure.

I don’t remember who ate my pussy first, maybe it was both men vying for my taste sensations. It didn’t matter; they were good and I came several times as I lay moaning atop Greg’s large desk; lots of fingers got involved deep inside me along with their tongues. I think at one time I had four fingers sawing away at my pleasure; two from each man. Eventually, I was sucking on two meaty cocks, as I lay back excited about the prospect of having them feeding my sexual appetite. I’d been horny all day.

The men worked well as a team. One would fuck me while I’d suck on the other. We had a pretty gross application of ‘dirty talk’ too, a point that I loved in prurient terms. At one point Greg said, “I will never work at this desk again without imagining this beautiful woman stretched out here with my cock inside her and my colleague’s dick down her throat as she tries to suck his insides out. Elsa you are spectacular.”

In the spirit of openness and eroticism, both men had the other take a photograph of them fucking me, and they immediately texted it to their wives. I had them add Cindy to the text destination.

Sean took over for a while, and then we moved to the sofa where I straddled one man while I sucked on the other. I got DPed for a while, but then we want back to single-man fucking. Greg took first honors, filling my pussy with a boatload of cum. Sean followed that performance up less than ten minutes later with another generous contribution to the cause of sexual goodness. I insisted that both men take turns cleaning up their combined mess.