Chapter 3

As we are packing our stuff up and sticking it into backpacks, I am reminded of a rig I built back when I was in my 40s. I got this idea in my head that I wanted to be the oldest person and the first disabled person to circumnavigate the world under his own power. I built a proof of concept rig to see if I had the know-how and capability to cycle/kayak around the world.

The rig was a recumbent trike, trailer and kayak combination where the trailer had a large hopper on the back that carried the kayak. When in the water, the trailer folded into the hopper and the trike disassembled, fitting in the hopper. The loaded hopper would then be mounted on the aft deck of the kayak. The combined weight of the rig, me and supplies was over 800 lb. The only drawback was that the rig weighed more than I wanted, and there was too much of a silhouette. The wind drastically affected the kayak when in the water. I ended up building an amphibious kayak instead of continuing with the concept.

What brings this to the forefront of my mind is watching everybody cramming all their belongings into their small packs when one bike could easily carry it all if we had a trailer. Bicycle trailers are not common yet. People still have child seats on the back of their bikes. Child bike seats are deathtraps. Any time mommy gets into an accident, the child gets hurt. Towable strollers are much safer.

Before we finish the packing, I approach Alva and ask her, “Don’t you think it would be a lot easier if we had a small trailer to tow behind a bike?”

“Ya, but where would we get such a thing?

“We build one and market it.”

“Are you doing that photoshoot Wednesday?”

“Ya”

I’ll talk to Elsa and see if we can come up with something before you come in on Thursday.”

“Just don’t start on a mockup yet. There are some idiosyncrasies about bike trailers that you will not likely think of. I want to adjust your plan before you start building. No sense wasting materials and everybody’s time.”

“Sure thing.”

“If you have time, work on a second version, one that turns into a stroller. I don’t like how parents throw kids on the back of their bikes. It’s unsafe. I want a better alternative. While you are at it, you might as well make it hold two children. Few people stop at having one child.”

That night, after everybody leaves, Sam and Zlata disappear into their room. I’m working in our home office, and Dahlia knocks on the open door to get my attention. I turn to see she is standing there in nothing but a black-laced tanga-cut panty. She asks, “Is it time for my punishment?

“Mmmh, you look good enough to eat. Which pisses me off.”

She pouts and asks, “Why does it piss you off?”

“You just broke another rule. You know there is to be no fooling around while working. You may not be working, but I am.”

“I’m not breaking the rule since I’m not working, you are.”

“The spirit of a law is usually more important than the letter of the law.”

“Then, when can I be punished.”

“Since you want to be punished now and there is a rule about not playing during work. Your punishment is, there will be no playtime tonight. There will be no spankings, degradation, humiliation or anything that may excite you. You are to have no orgasms at all for the next 48 hours. If I catch you touching yourself, it will be longer.”

“WHAT? That isn’t fair. I didn’t do anything that bad.”

“Are you telling me what to do? Do you want it to be longer?”

A shiver runs down her spine, and the anger drains from her face, replaced with lust. I don’t know if I should be trying to figure out if something has warped her like this or if I should just accept the fact that she enjoys me being dominating her.

She answers, “No.”

“Then leave me, so I can finish up.”

Since tomorrow is a day off, I figure I will work late and sleep in. It is almost 2 am when I finally finish working on the bid for the Navy. I am particularly proud of the ship’s design. I often get carried away and lose track of time when working on it.

The next morning, I am having another dream about Alva, our cycle coach. She is still too young for my 70 years but is a lot more age-appropriate than my current girlfriends. I know she likes me, but does nothing about it, partially because I’m 15 and partly because I have four girlfriends already. It doesn’t stop me from dreaming of her luscious body.

In my dream, Alva is riding me, cowgirl. I reach up and am caressing her chest. The problem is, the dream seems too real, and I can feel her bouncing on my cock. I can hear her talking dirty and moaning in ecstasy, only it isn’t her voice.

The transition between dream and awake is quick. One moment I am dreaming of fucking Alva. The next, I am awake, and it is Kim riding me like there is no tomorrow. It is a good thing I have learnt not to use a girl’s name during sex. Having four girlfriends, there has been more than once I caught myself just before I screamed out the wrong girl’s name.

I reach up and pull her down for a kiss. I know she likes it when I am in control, so I roll us over, without losing a beat. I’m now on top of her looking down into her eyes as I pound into her as hard and fast as I can. She must have been riding me for a while because neither one of us lasts. She orgasms and her spasming cunny sends me over the edge. I want her orgasm to continue, so I don’t stop thrusting into her.

When she starts to come down, I roll over, pulling her with me. We are still connected, laying on our sides, looking into each other’s eyes. She leans in for a quick kiss, then says, “I love you.”

“I love you too, but I need some more sleep. Please tell me nobody else is coming over, and we can just lay here for a few more hours.”

She giggles and says, “You stayed up all night working again, didn’t you?”

My only answer is to reach down and pull the blanket over us. I need a bigger bed, but I don’t dare get one. If I do, I’m sure I would end up with multiple girls in my bed, and I wouldn’t get any sleep.

The next thing I know, Moira is standing in my doorway and has just turned my light on. When she notices me looking at the clock to see it is 9 am, she says, “You need to get up. You just missed a call from Sato. They want to meet again today.”

“I figured as much. They wouldn’t have given me Miyu otherwise.”

“She is gorgeous. You could have slept with her, and none of us would have known.”

Her statement shocks me. If she thinks that I should have done it, then there is a good chance that given the right circumstances, she would be willing to cheat on me.

Kim rolls over and asks, “Why didn’t you?”

“REALLY!!! You think four of the best looking women are not enough for me?”

She shrugs and says, “In China, you are expected to have a mistress. They attend your business functions while the wife stays at home.”

I’m not as appalled at her statement since it is a part of her culture. With Moira’s culture, people aren’t supposed to cheat. If she thinks I should cheat, what does it say about her moral compass?

“Then think of me as the man that gets his wife to ask one of her girlfriends to attend the meetings with him, so he doesn’t have to fuck other women.”

Kim kisses me again then says, “And you wonder why we all love you so much.”

I laugh then joke, “And here I thought it was because I’m so sexy.”

“You are,” Kim answers.

Moira comments, “I don’t understand how other cultures do things like that.”

“There are things we do that they consider just as bad, and they don’t understand.”

“Such as,” asks Moira.

“Censorship, we allow anybody to have uncensored porn, to read up on how to kill people without getting caught or how to make explosives. We pretend everybody is responsible enough. If we were morally upstanding, there wouldn’t be any reason to read such things, and we wouldn’t care if they were censored. In the future, it gets worse. If you even suggest censoring something, people hate you, no matter how much it needs to be censored.”

“That’s different,” states Moira.

I correct her, “Only because you were taught a value system that says so. They were taught a value system that says we are in the wrong. Morality is fluid. Not only does everybody have a different idea of what is moral, their opinion on the matter also changes with time. Ethically, allowing things to go uncensored, and sleeping with others once you have promised never to, makes us all unethical.”

She pauses to think for a moment. I tell her, “You need to learn not to judge if you want to keep being my secretary. We are going to have dealings with people from cultures far different than the Orientals. Nobody is perfect. We all have our failings. You are just comfortable with the ones in our culture. You can’t expect others to accept your failings if you are unwilling to accept theirs.”

She argues, “I wasn’t being judgmental.”

“You were, but you did it at a time and place where it is appropriate. What would happen if we were to deal with Iranians, and they assumed you were a whore because of your clothing and the fact that your face isn’t covered? If you make a scene, then you can put things at risk. Remember, we are not just trying to grow ourselves an empire. we are trying to save the world.”

“Assuming I am a whore is wrong. You can’t expect me to do nothing.”

“It is wrong, and unless they physically do something inappropriate, you are to do nothing. Expect them to assume you are unclean and inferior. Just like you will assume they are sexist pigs just because they are from a different culture ... Don’t worry. We are years away from problems like that ... What time is my appointment with Kawasaki?”

“They want a lunch meeting at the Empress.”

“Are Sam and Zlata here?”

“They are working on the car.”

“Ask Zlata to come here. I need to speak with her. Come to think of it, what are you doing here. It is your day off.”

“I’m doing what any other girl does on her day off. I’m hanging with my friends and boyfriend.”

“If that is the case, you aren’t working, so come here.”

She approaches my bed. I lean over Kim and kiss Moira, then say, “Now go. I’m running late and need to talk with Zlata.”