Lactation Support Protocol 3

Lactation Support Protocol 3: Islands In The Stream

♫ "Islands in the stream

That is what we are

No one in between

How can we be wrong?

Sail away with me

To another world

And we rely on each other, ah-ah

From one lover to another, ah-ah" ♫

- "Islands in the Stream". Recorded by Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton. Written by the Bee Gees, ah-ah (1983).

New York Times | October 31, 2030

OmniCore's Unlikely Rally: How a Midsize Contractor Became a Talent Magnet Overnight

For most of the past decade, OmniCore Holdings (OMCR) occupied a familiar niche on the industrial side of the space economy: reliable, unglamorous, and rarely mentioned outside specialist conferences. That changed this month.

The company's shares have jumped more than 40 percent since the beginning of the third quarter, adding billions in market value and drawing the kind of attention usually reserved for consumer tech names. The catalyst was not a new launch contract or a breakthrough in atmospheric processing. It was hiring.

People familiar with the firm's recruiting data say applications from elite engineering programs spiked sharply after a recent OmniCore campus recruiting event at its Midtown headquarters. The gathering, intended as a modest pipeline exercise for the sons of employees and contractors, instead produced a burst of campus conversation nationwide that recruiters at peer firms are now trying to decode.

"What we are seeing is a narrative premium," said Priya Patel, an industrial technology analyst at Cornelius & Co. "Investors have decided OmniCore's progressive corporate culture can attract the exact kind of top-tier talent that every terraforming bid theoretically requires and almost none of them can actually lock down. That is a scarce asset. The market is pricing it."

OmniCore's implied valuation now sits closer to a growth platform than to the equipment vendor it was priced as last month, but skeptics note that viral recruiting stories often fade. "A one month surge in résumés is not a durable moat," said David Cho of Green River Research. "The question is whether the people who applied recently still want to work there in six months, and whether the company can absorb them without breaking the culture that supposedly attracted them."

♫ "Tumble out of bed and I stumble to the kitchen

Pour myself a cup of ambition

And yawn and stretch and try to come to life

Jump in the shower and the blood starts pumpin'

Out on the street, the traffic starts jumpin'

With folks like me on the job from 9 to 5 ♫

♫ Working 9 to 5! What a way to make a livin'

Barely gettin' by, it's all takin' and no givin'

They just use your mind and they never give you credit

It's enough to drive you crazy if you let it! " ♫

- "9 to 5". Written and recorded by Dolly Parton (1980).

The COO suite looked like a hostage situation.

Two nameplates on one desk. Four monitors. One view of Midtown Manhattan that Kessler had pointedly not assigned to either of us. The door stood wide open, of course, per her explicit instructions. She was in Seoul this week meeting with potential investors, so anyone walking the floor and peering into our office at this precise moment would only see Dr. Julian Cross... sitting in my goddamn chair like he'd been born there.

He had not been born there. In fact, at this precise moment, he looked like he might throw up in it.

Julian was uncharacteristically nervous this morning. Five minutes to Squawk Box. Live. National. The kind of hit I used to get offered after a decent quarter, but never on a morning show that actually moved a stock. There was no denying this was Julian's shot at the big leagues. The fucking show. A good first impression here before a national audience could launch his career directly into the stratosphere. Kessler's very own Nakamura show pony. Forgot the COO spot. If this goes well for him, we could very well be looking at a future CEO right here. Julian's knee bounced once under the glass desk and then stopped, as if he'd caught himself committing a human error.

I uncrossed my legs, rose from the sofa and closed the distance between us with the sugary sweetness I typically reserved only for board spouses and small children.

"Hey," I said, soft. Motherly. "Breathe."

He looked up. That sharp, unfair face of his already starting to pink at the ears.

"I'm breathing."

"You're vibrating. I get it. I've been in the hot seat before myself, but never quite like this. This is a really big deal." I stepped between his knees and reached for his tie. The silk was already perfect. I straightened it anyway, nice and slow. "There. Now you look like a man who actually belongs on television instead of some kid who looks like a fucking nervous wreck."

"Comforting."

"Hey, be patient with me. I'm at least trying to play nice here." I smoothed the knot with my thumb. "How does a wunderkind like you even end up here, Julian? I mean... seriously. You worked alongside Nakamura, for fuck's sake. You could have gone anywhere. SpaceX. Blue. A chair at Caltech with your name already engraved. Why OmniCore?"

He smiled. Small. Uncharacteristically unguarded.

"I dreamed of this place."

What a fucking weirdo. Of course he did. This little fucker had probably been dreaming of swooping in and taking my office for quite some time now.

I let the smile I gave him be real enough to pass. "Well... good luck, Julian. Really. Our little rivalry aside... a win for OmniCore is a win for us all, right?" I tipped my head toward the open door. "I'll leave you to it, sir. By the way, I know Kessler said it's against the rules now, but make sure to lock the door behind me so you can focus. This is a very important interview for you, after all..."

His eyes narrowed a fraction.

"Wait. W-Why are you being so nice to me?"

I was already walking.

"Oh fuck. Rebecca? What is happening...?"

In my head, I could hear the beginning of Trick Daddy's old hit "Let's Go" start playing. One of my personal favorites. Who doesn't love Lil Jon?

If you want it, you can get it, let me know.

I'm 'bout to fuck a bitch up.

Let's go.

I then locked the door from the inside and gave Julian a wicked grin. The lock seated in place with a clean, expensive click.

Fuck you, Dana.

And especially fuck you, Julian. Happy Halloween, lover.

Half a second of silence. Then his laptop chimed, the CNBC slate bloomed on his screen, and a producer's voice began counting him down. I had timed that perfectly. For a supposed genius, Julian did the math a beat too late on this one. Bewilderment at first. Then the dawning, delicious horror of a man who had just been outplayed by the same woman whose goddamn chair he was sitting in.

Live.

The male anchor's authoritative voice filled the room, bright and breakfast hour polished.

"Joining us now from OmniCore Tower in New York is Dr. Julian Cross, the 22 year old atmospheric systems prodigy whose revolutionary work alongside Dr. Hikaru Nakamura helped put this once quiet contractor at the center of Wall Street's sudden love affair with terraforming. Dr. Cross, welcome. OMCR is up another 6% in the premarket. Your CEO, Dana Kessler, is jet setting around the world meeting with potential new investors as we speak. You yourself recently served a short stint as her Acting Chief Operating Officer. Which is both impressive and a little stunning considering how young you are, sir. Walk us through what's actually been happening inside your organization, doctor."

Julian sat up straight. Professional. Hands folded. Camera framed tight on his face with only tasteful abstract art behind him.

I walked back into his line of sight and stopped directly in front of the desk.

My old desk.

Invisible. Except to him, of course. I was entirely his problem now.

'Cause me and my clique, we don't give a fuck.

I held up the card I'd written in the lactation room twenty minutes earlier:

// FUCK YOU, INTERN. I'm straight out the county of Dade. //

His eye twitched. His throat moved.

I seductively tossed the card off to the side and started to move myself.

Let's go.

If you want it, you can get it, let me know.

My body does not ask permission. It occupies. I was tall enough to make today's short black skirt a real threat. My hips turned each step into a decision. My waist cinched and then gave way to the full, heavy swell of breasts a silk dark green blouse like mine had no earthly business trying to contain. The Louis Vuittons put a slow, expensive click under every shift of my weight. I rolled my shoulders first, lazy, like Trick Daddy's song was already playing somewhere only I could hear. That wet, filthy bounce. I let my ass follow my hips in a tight circle, then a deeper one, the kind that made the skirt climb the underside of my thighs and stay there.

Julian's mouth opened to answer the question.

"I--yes. What's happening is... talent. We've seen recent inbound interest from--from programs we historically--"

I popped the first button of my blouse.

His eyes dropped and snapped back up so fast the audience probably thought he had a facial tic.

"--historically under-indexed," he finished, voice a half tone too high.

"But let's get real here. How much of that is culture versus capability, Dr. Cross?" the anchor asked, cheerful yet lethal. "Because the Street is treating OmniCore like a platform now, not a vendor."

Second button. The silk parted. The lace underneath was the color of champagne and already losing the fight. I turned, planted my palms on the edge of the glass desk, and dropped it low, as the kids like to say... slow squat, knees out, my short skirt riding up until there was nothing left to the imagination except for the fact that I had decided not to wear panties to work today. I rose the same way I'd gone down, ass first, a roll through the lower back that made my breasts shift heavy against the remaining buttons.

Julian swallowed.

"C-Capability," he stammered. "Obviously, capability. The... culture here is... supportive. Of returning... new parents, for example. And high performers."

I laughed without sound and took off my blouse.

It slid down my arms like it had been waiting. I let it hit the carpet. The bra was a technicality at this point. Full and swollen, my big tits made poor Julian Cross forget he was on live television. I reached back, unhooked, and let the weight of them spill forward. Cool air. Immediate ache. A faint gleam already gathering at my left nipple.

Gotta spit it for the murderers. And the killers and the thugsters. That be fuckin' up the ballers. And the dealers and the hustlers.

Julian's gaze went dark and stupid.

"Dr. Cross?" A different voice now. Female. Second chair. "You still with us, young man? We asked about Kessler's recent comments on the COO re-structuring. Frankly, you seem very distracted. Very flustered. If this is a bad time for you, sir, we can always reschedule..."

"Yes." He blinked hard. "I mean no! The new COO structure is... collaborative. Temporary. But... D-Dana has been perfectly clear that no matter which teammate may wear this hat or that hat on any given day... our organization as a whole is one in which our corporate culture openly and enthusiastically acknowledges the fact that great talent is hard to find... and so it must be nurtured and rewarded. Based on key performance indicators, of course..."

I unzipped my skirt.

It dropped. One step out. Nothing left now but my Louis Vuittons and the body he'd already had twice now... and yet... I couldn't help but notice... even now... the way he still looked at me... like he'd starve if he didn't have just one more taste.

Fuck. His obvious yearning was making me wet. But I was also reasonably confident that his big, swinging dick was completely short-circuiting his own brain right now... which made me smile.

I ran both hands up my own thighs, over the soft give of my stomach, up to cup my breasts and lift them, thumbs circling my tight, leaking nipples.

Much like me, Julian's cock was a problem he could not adjust on live television. I could see the line of it aggressively trying to escape his pants under the desk. Thick. Desperate. The same one that he had buried deep inside me in both an elevator and then a broom closet... and now here he was... trapped in his own stupid Armani suit while I danced like all of OmniCore Tower belonged to me.

Which it fucking did. Let's go.

I hooked a finger in my mouth, wet it, and drew it down between my breasts, over the curve of my belly. Lower. I turned in a slow circle so he got the back of me... wide hips, the heavy hang of my ass, the wet shine already starting at the tops of my inner thighs... then faced him again and walked back to the sofa.

I laid down.

On my back. Knees softly falling open. Thighs spread. One hand on my breast, the other sliding between my legs. I was soaked. But... like that CNBC dork just said... let's get real: I'd already thought about his lips and his girth a million times since the janitorial closet... and the way he'd said "that's my job"... while my body had taken every inch of him.

While Owen had watched.

Jesus, my fucking hair...

I hated Julian. And I hated myself for wanting him. For dreaming about him. I worked my clit in tight, mean circles and watched his handsome face come apart by millimeters.

I squeezed my tit.

Milk arced into the air. A clean, obscene spurt that caught the morning light and painted my fingers, my chest, the inside of my forearm. I did it again, only a little slower this time, milking myself for him while CNBC asked about Mars-adjacent capital. Julian said something in response that might have been English.

"Oh, Owen," I moaned in a whisper, loud enough for Julian but no one else, obviously. I tipped my head back, one arm flung over my eyes dramatically like I couldn't bear the sight of this oh-so-incredible boy wonder suddenly claiming my tight, supple desk.

"God--Owen--what are you doing to me?... oh yes, pound my little pink pussy... you're so young and eager for me... oh my... that's a good boy..."

Julian made a sound that was not appropriate for Squawk Box. He covered it with a cough.

"Sorry. Umm... could you... please repeat the last part."

I came.

Hard. Slightly helpless. I squirted. A bright, humiliating gush that wet my wrist and the leather and then dripped down onto the rug while my thighs shook and I bit my own lip to keep the rest of it in. Squirter. Always had been... particularly when I could finally just let myself go and get mean like this. I was a Rivers, after all. I giggled a little to myself. This fucking intern on national television watching me ruin the office furniture.

Kessler mentioned it was expensive. Oops.

Don't get it twisted with that "Overnight Celebrity". You better be scared of me.

The wrap came fast. "Uh... okay... yeah. Thanks, Dr. Cross. Fascinating stuff. OmniCore... keep an eye on it, folks. I guess?"

The red light on the laptop died.

Julian stared at me like he was choosing between a) murder and b) bending me over the glass desk and fucking me silly.

Truth be told, I do tend to provoke that sort of reaction in men, I suppose. Fuck 'em.

I was already dressing. Bra. Blouse. Skirt. Hair twisted right back up as if nothing in the COO suite had ever been wet in the first place.

But before either one of us could say anything.... the door handle suddenly came to life and rattled.

We both froze.

Hmm. This... wasn't part of my plan. No matter. Improvise, adapt, overcome.

I crossed the carpet, unlocked the door, and opened it with the same smile I'd used on Julian while adjusting his tie.

Liz Healy. Kessler's bubbly, admittedly rather sexy 30-something executive assistant. My longtime friend. Her pretty blue eyes missed nothing and her Outlook calendar essentially ran the building. Her warm brown hair fell in playful, bouncy waves just past her shoulders, catching the light with subtle golden highlights.

She took in the open laptop. Julian's color. My composure... which was a performance and she clearly knew it.

"Um... didn't Dana tell you two to keep this door open?"

"Sorry, my fault!" I said, bright, a little breathless on purpose. "Julian's big CNBC interview just wrapped up. Honestly, Liz... you know me. I'm just so used to reflexively locking this door for these sorts of calls... in order to better focus and concentrate... that I just completely forgot about Kessler's recent little rule change, you know? It won't happen again."

Liz's eyes did not believe me. Her job did not require her to say so.

"Anyway. Don't sweat it, Dr. Cross. Everyone shits the bed on live TV at least once or twice in their career, am I right? It's not like it's the end of the world. But that's not why I'm here. Listen. Are you two planning on heading downstairs to the courtyard in the lobby for the big Halloween party anytime soon? In her absence, Dana expects all of her direct reports to at least make an appearance. And hey... since the stock is doing so well these days... I hear they've even brought in a fortune teller this year. Fun!"

Julian and I smiled politely. Liz's smile stayed on just long enough to be professionally useful.

"Great. Courtyard. Ten minutes would be lovely. Dana will ask."

Then she was gone, heels already ticking toward the next action item on her mental to-do list. The door stayed open this time. I left it that way.

Julian hadn't moved from my chair. The laptop was dark. His color had not quite returned to something a camera would forgive.

He cleared his throat. "That was quite a performance, Rivers." His voice was low, scraped. "But shouldn't you be saving that sort of physical intimacy for your mysterious baby daddy?"

This motherfucker. His words landed somewhere I did not like to think about.

Henry.

Good hands. A quiet laugh. Too kind and too decent for the version of me that locked doors and ruined office furniture.

She has your dumb, adorable little nose, Henry. Our baby girl. Our Grace.

I let none of that reach my face.

"All you need to know about my so-called baby daddy," I said, "is that he is a good man. A real man. Unlike you, Cross."

He stood. Adjusted his cuffs like the interview had been a mild inconvenience and not a public near-death experience.

"Ouch. And what kind of man do you think I am, Rivers?"

"The absurd kind."

"Interesting," he replied. "And what does that say about you?"

Fucker.

We walked.

The shared suite spat us out into the hallway. I kept half a step ahead on purpose. He matched it anyway. Before the elevator bank, his hand found my elbow. Not hard. Just enough to stop the performance of leaving.

"Wait a minute." He was close enough that I could smell his cologne. Roja Haute Luxe. God, he smelled fantastic. "Are you absolutely sure you can control yourself in there around me this time?" He smiled playfully.

I looked at his hand until he removed it.

"I'll... uh... take that as a yes," he said.

The elevator arrived with a polite chime. We stepped in. No one else. I stood on the opposite wall and watched the numbers drop like I was praying they would simply skip the lobby entirely.

Ding.

Yikes. The courtyard had been converted into a seasonal extravaganza.

The atrium had been fogged to a board-approved opacity ("atmospheric, not hazardous") so the indoor palms looked like they were growing on a haunted exoplanet. Black and copper bunting ran the full height of the mezzanine in OmniCore-branded chevrons. Every other pendant light had been swapped for a flickering Edison bulb inside a glass orb etched with the OmniCore logo, so the whole lobby twinkled like a very expensive séance.

The reception robot wore a tiny velvet witch hat secured with a branded lanyard and a laminated card that read "Please do not offer candy to autonomous assets." It kept trying to shake the hat off and then thank people for their patience.

A twenty-foot inflatable "habitat dome" crouched near Larry over at the security desk, printed with a smiling cartoon astronaut and the slogan SCARE THE FUTURE INTO SHAPE. Someone from Marketing had put a tasteful drip of fake blood on the visor and then had to send three emails clarifying that it was only ketchup. Laser-etched pumpkins lined the marble in two perfect rows, each face a geometric abstraction of the OmniCore logo, each one sitting on a black acrylic slab with a QR code linking it to the employee giving portal. A string quartet played "Monster Mash". At the far end, a chocolate fountain shaped like a launch gantry poured dark ganache into a basin of branded marshmallows stamped OMCR.

Costume policy was "business festive," which in practice meant senior vice presidents wore little devil-horn headbands that still showed the price sticker if you looked, Legal in cat ears and a look of deep professional regret, and a group of interns in matching black turtlenecks who had printed "Analyst Coven" on their badges. A photo booth framed people against a green screen Mars horizon. But the backdrop itself kept glitching to last year's all-hands slide about safety metrics. A bartender in a tasteful cape was pouring something called a "Kessler Old Fashioned" into glasses etched with little gravestones that said R. I. P. REGULATORY GUIDANCE.

The fortune teller's tent sat under the indoor palms. Purple drapes. Gold stars. A folding table with a velvet runner and a small sign: COMPLIMENTARY 3-MINUTE INSIGHTS: (NOT A SUBSTITUTE FOR LEGAL ADVICE). A line of three people waited as if it were open enrollment.

An annoyingly festive Owen Briggs found us before the fog machine even finished a cycle.

"Hey guys! Glad you finally made it. Happy Halloween!" He was wearing a black OmniCore polo and a pair of plastic vampire fangs. "It's not a party until OmniCore's favorite power couple arrives!"

"We're not a couple," I sternly reminded him.

Owen looked at me, confused. Then he looked to Julian.

"Dr. Rivers and I... we're not really interested to putting labels on anything right now, you know?" Julian stated calmly with his half smile.

"I will snap you like a fucking twig, Cross," I growled.

"Promises, promises."

I caught Owen staring at my tits. "Listen... uh... are you two planning on possibly swinging by the janitorial closet later... maybe? Because... uh... last time was fucking amazing..."

"Ew," I said. "Fuck off, Owen."

He looked at Julian for confirmation instead. Of course he did.

I rolled my eyes so hard they almost popped out of my skull.

"Stand down, soldier," Julian said. Mild. Absolute. "And await further instructions."

"Yes sir, Dr. Cross." Owen actually straightened. "And might I add how handsome you looked on Squawk Box this morning, sir. New Armani? And, hey, don't listen to the haters, my man... or all those people on TikTok and Instagram... who... you know... immediately sliced and diced your interview into a series of viral memes that will now mock you relentlessly for the foreseeable future."

Julian's head turned toward me.

I grinned. Slow. Wicked.

Owen, apparently committed to being murdered in public, kept going.

"And hey, Dr. Rivers, I meant to tell you.... your hair is looking especially beautiful today. It's so bouncy and luscious. New shampoo?"

"Run along now, Owen," I said.

He did. Fangs in his hand. Pride intact in the only direction that mattered to him, I suppose.

I made eye contact with one of my 40-ish direct reports, Herb, who was at the fortune teller's table. He had been drinking me in since before I even noticed his presence. He was currently looking at me and wearing the expression of a man who had clearly not forgotten "Take Your Son to Work Day". I remembered his hand in his trousers... tugging on his dick in that hallway. The look he gave me. The hunger he had not even tried to hide while Julian was still inside me.

For some reason, Julian followed as I walked over to Herb. That annoyed me more than Owen had.

"Oh, hey, boss!" Herb's smile was too wide. "You look outstanding today! Love the skirt."

"Cut the shit, Herb. Where are we on that atmospheric pre-conditioning report? I want the revised thermal load numbers and I want them before Kessler lands."

Herb opened his mouth.

But the fortune teller spoke first.

"You should not be so bossy... Aurora."

All the courtyard noise dropped out for a second.

Aurora. My middle name.

My father had been the only person to ever use it. Rory, he used to call me... when I was small enough that the world still fit inside our Miami kitchen. My middle name was not common knowledge. It was not on my badge. It was not in the employee directory.

I stared at the woman.

She was short... maybe thirty, relatively attractive, long black hair under a cheap gold scarf, too much eyeliner, a deck of tarot cards she clearly had not touched. For a moment she looked just like any other basic corporate party psychic who had ever been paid in catering. But then her green eyes found Julian standing nearby... and the entire act fell off her face like a cheap mask.

"Oh my god," she said. "Holy fucking shit! It's you!"

Julian exhaled through his nose. Tired. Infamous for one morning.

"Yes. It's me. I was that guy on CNBC this morning. In retrospect, I suppose my performance wasn't exactly... ideal."

The fortune teller blinked. Genuinely lost.

"What? No. You're the old man from my dreams. The one who is going to try to save us."

Julian went still in a way I had never seen before. His eyes locked onto hers.

"Who are you?" he asked, almost solemnly.

"Me?" A small, almost embarrassed laugh escaped her lips. "I'm just like you, brother. A seer. And you've seen it, too, man. I know you have. I can tell just by looking into your eyes. The bullet. In your dreams. You've seen it. Haven't you? The supernova..."

I absolutely did not have time for... whatever the fuck this was. I had already reached my limit.

"Okie dokie, smokie. This so-called psychic here is clearly coo coo for Coco Puffs. Herb... I expect that report on my desk by end of day. Julian... as always... go fuck yourself. I'll see you boys later."

I turned.

I did not leave, though.

In my line of work, morbid curiosity is an occupational hazard, unfortunately.

Julian and his new weird little gal pal found a quiet corner behind the indoor palms, far enough from the chocolate fountain that the intern coven couldn't read their lips. I quietly and discreetly took the long way around the atrium sculpture... keeping myself out of sight. I stopped a short distance away from them with my Kessler Old Fashioned firmly in hand, and listened intently.

What the fuck were these two on about.

"That's why you're here, isn't it?" the fortune teller said excitedly.

Julian's voice was quieter now than it had been on television. Sharper.

"Look, lady... I've met people like you before. Like us. And the truth is... we don't know what we're seeing in these dreams of ours. These... visions. Of the future. They're too disjointed. Too... open to interpretation. Just because it's a supernova we're seeing, for example, doesn't necessarily mean it's our sun..."

"You know it is. It must be. Why else would you be here? The visions. They're so clear. Most of them anyway. The bullet. Then the bridge to our new home. You... I mean... you're so much older in my dreams... but it's definitely you, man... I'd recognize you anywhere... fuck... armed with your flaming, scarlet red sword... leading us all to a new world... lighting humanity's way forward in the dark. That's gotta be why you're here. Oh my god. At a fucking terraforming company, man! It's brilliant!"

I drank my Kessler Old Fashioned. It was terrible. But it had this little paper umbrella in it that was shaped like a tiny habitat dome. Super cute.

"Whether my strategy is brilliant or not remains to be seen," Julian replied quietly. He regarded her. Like he was taking the measure of her. "Besides... we have no idea which direction the bullet is even coming from. None. How can I stop a bullet if..."

"You can't stop it, man," she replied calmly, gazing into his brown eyes. "You know that. Don't you? That bullet was fired a long time ago. By an ancient, unseen enemy. They fired it before we were even born. But it'll be here soon."

"There must be a way to stop it," Julian shot back, visibly shaken. "How soon will it be here? How do I stop it? I have finally found my scarlet red sword. It's this place. It's OmniCore..."

"It's not," she interrupted. "Your scarlet red sword isn't a place. Or even a thing. It's a woman. That much I'm sure of. You need her somehow. We all do. But it's so frustrating because... I can't see her. I can't even sense her physical presence. But time is a funny thing. I mean... I guess it's entirely possible... like... she hasn't even been born yet?"

"A woman?" Julian asked, confused. But he wasn't mocking her. He seemed genuinely intrigued. "My supposed flaming red sword in the darkness... the one the visions say I alone must find and wield in order to save all humanity... is a... woman?" He considered her words for a moment. "An unborn child. That's an interesting interpretation. I hadn't even thought of that. I mean... time is relative to the observer... as you yourself somewhat accurately just touched upon..."

She arched her eyebrow in response to him, not sure whether to be offended or not. I hear you loud and clear on that one, sister. What a prick.

He continued. "A woman as my sword... and OmniCore as my shield? Extraordinary. It would explain a lot. Like why my dreams keep telling me the scarlet red sword alone is not enough. That it needs something else to make it work... something... I don't know... wilder...? That part is so unclear to me these days..."

"That's because your red sword is only one part of this whole prophecy," the fortune teller replied. "It's one piece of the puzzle. But it's not everything. Don't forget about the trinity... the dragonfly, the captain, and the machine made of rainbows. Those three are our true salvation, Julian Cross. Your red sword may light our way, man... but unless you can bring the trinity together as one... the visions... well... they are extraordinarily clear on what happens to us next..."

Julian sighed. Defeated. "The enemy's bullet pierces our sun... which somehow forces it to go full supernova. All the inner planets... gone. Earth... annihilated. Just like that. In the blink of an eye. Like we were never even here."

A dark silence hung in the air. This all sounded like some real spooky shit. Very on-brand for an OmniCore Halloween party...

Listen. Knowing my middle name is one thing. I'm not sure how she knew it. That's what makes it a neat party trick. But... come on... a cosmic bullet, a supernova, a mysterious red sword lady... plus some sort of quasi-holy trinity... and Dr. Julian Cross of all fucking people... leading and coordinating what would surely need to be an unprecedented international effort to save all life on Earth from what sounds like certain doom?

You know... I just figured Julian had that big dick energy (earned), but his primary malfunction as a human being was the fact that he was a little too cocky for his own good (unearned). I'd seen it a million times. Young corporate sharks like Julian Cross were a dime a dozen.

Weren't they?

What the fuck is even happening right now.

Julian had been deep inside me. Enthusiastically deep. Twice. And... unlike any other man I had ever been with in my life... including Grace's father... Julian alone had been the one who brought me to orgasms so Earth-shattering that I could barely think straight. But... in this moment... he felt like a stranger to me.

Who was this guy?

Julian continued. "Listen. I don't know who you are or where you came from. But... I'm a scientist, not a soothsayer. Do you understand what I'm saying? My world is facts... data... experimentation. The scientific method. Peer review. I never asked for any of this. I'm no... leader. Certainly no hero. Not even in the slightest. I really am an absurd kind of man. But... be that as it may... these visons I've seen... these goddamn dreams... over and over... the same ones that I know people like you have also seen and experienced these past few years... I don't know why we're seeing this shit or how... but that vision of our future... humanity's shared future... that fucking nightmare... it cannot be allowed to come to pass."

The fortune teller softly smiled as her green eyes looked up at Julian almost reverently. She clasped his hands.

"Hey," she said, soft. Motherly. "Breathe."

He eyed her wearily after that statement. Guess you're not a dumb as you look, Dr. Cross.

She continued. "None of that matters now. You're here. In the flesh. Right where you are supposed to be. When you're supposed to be here. I still can't believe you're actually real, man. The visions... my goddamn dreams are playing out for me in real time. At fucking work! I can see it all so clearly standing here in front of you now."

She looked him up and down, and then slowly returned to his eyes. "On behalf of a planet you yourself can barely even relate to... you have still bravely chosen to be here... trolling Atlantis... and, despite having absolutely no earthly idea what you're supposed to do next... you have still got your hands on the wheel. That's beautiful. It's poetic even. An obviously deeply flawed young man is making humanity's last stand here... at a fucking terraforming company, no less. I mean... I seriously haven't felt hope like this in a long time. You must have a strategy. A plan of some sort. Right? What's your plan??"

Wait a minute. Did this wacky bitch just hit us with a Billy Joel reference...? Nice.

Julian met her gaze. "Hey now. What do you mean 'obviously deeply flawed'?" he asked her teasingly with that little half smile of his. Ugh. He was so charming, it was gross. She giggled and played with her black hair.

But instead of answering her question directly, he pivoted. "Hey. Have you heard them singing to each other yet? In your dreams... the dragonfly and the captain, I mean? With the machine made of rainbows cheering them on?"

The fortune teller's face completely dropped. Her bottom lip began to quiver. She suddenly looked like she was going to cry. Not out of sadness, though. Or hopelessness. It was like she was overwhelmed by the beauty of it all.

"Islands in the stream", she whispered to him. Barely audible. "That is what we are."

A goddamn tear then rolled down Julian's cheek. He smiled. "No one in between. How can we be wrong?"

Even though she was nearly a decade older than him, she still openly looked at Julian like she was falling in love with him. I furrowed my brow.

Not a fan of that particular data point.

The clearly smitten fortune teller softly sang back her reply to him: "Sail away with me. To another world. And we rely on each other, ah-ah..."

Julian leaned forward ever so slightly to allow the fortune teller to wipe away his tear. He then straightened. His eyes turned resolute.

"From one lover to another," Julian finished. "Ah-ah."

And you thought your workplace was strange. I clearly work in the weirdest fucking office in America. I mean... what the actual fuck? What the fuck is going to happen next? Are these two actually going to--

"Hey, girl."

I jumped like a scared cat.

Liz Healy's whisper to me while sidling up directly beside me suddenly derailed my train of thought. "What are we doing, queen? Spying on your sexy new boyfriend?"

"Liz!! You scared the shit out of me! Shhhh!" I whispered back. "And he's not my boyfriend, for fuck's sake. He's the enemy. And I'll tell you something else, too... after that cunt Kessler lands and hears all about how her Nakamura golden boy is actually - spoiler alert! - a stone cold nutjob with an affinity for duets and an apparent full-on messiah complex... the COO gig is as good as mine again."

"Yay!" Liz smiled warmly and quietly clapped her hands. "So proud of you, Rebecca! You know, I knew it was just a matter of time before you found a way to crush this highly intelligent, unusually competent and surprisingly accomplished young man! By the way... does this mean we don't care that the hot fortune teller over yonder is about to kiss him?..."

"WHAT?" I damn near shouted as I turned. The sound echoed through the lobby. The coven of interns perked up.

But there was no sign of Julian or the fortune teller. They were gone.

Liz could barely contain her laughter. "Just fucking with you, bitch." Her voice returned to its normal level. "Those two scurried away together while you were issuing me your spoiler alert."

"Oh." I said. "Right. Well, come on. We better go find them..."

Liz gently put her hands on mine. "Rebecca. Doll. You know I love you to Reese's Pieces, right? But, as your friend, I need you to take a big step back here and ask yourself some tough questions. Questions like, "why do I, the one and only Rebecca Rivers, even care if a much younger male colleague of mine who is... a) not my boyfriend... and b) apparently not even my love interest... happens to get his dick wet with a fortune teller every now and again?"

I glared at my friend... and then smiled at her playfully. "Because, Liz. Julian Cross and his big, beautiful dick are mine and mine alone to play with right now until I decide what to do with him next."

A small, excited moan escaped Liz's mouth. "Oh, goodness. Rebecca. You know it makes me wet when you talk like that, girl..."

I rolled my eyes and gave her a grin. "Did you need something, by the way, darling? Or do you make it a point to block off time on your calendar every day just so you can fuck with me?"

She didn't miss a beat. "I do actually keep a recuring meeting on my calendar just for the two of us, Dr. Rivers," she cooed. "But at this point... my need to achieve stakeholder alignment with you remains... shall we say... purely aspirational?"

Liz's beautiful face was open and expressive. She had big, bright blue eyes overflowing with mischief, full red lips curved in a perpetual smile. She looked both completely innocent and dangerously clever at the same time.

Her body was a celebration. Curvy and soft in all the right places, with full, generous breasts that strained beautifully against the fabric of her sparkling black dress. The dress itself was sweet, festive and flirty... a soft, flowing number that hugged her waist before flaring out into a skirt that ended just above her knees. Every time she moved in her silver heels, the hem swished and swayed, offering tantalizing glimpses of her smooth, toned thighs underneath. The neckline dipped just enough to hint at the soft valley between her breasts without trying too hard.

She always looked so approachable, bubbly, and incredibly fuckable all at once.

I shrugged. "Don't take it personally, love." I kissed her forehead.

"Hey." Liz suddenly snapped back to reality. "Now I remember why I came to find you. Your boy Herb is over in Lab 4 trying to demonstrate your new atmospheric harvester prototype to a few high profile engineering students visiting us today from Tsinghua. He's failing miserably, of course. Since this prototype is your baby... so the speak... I figured you could swing by the lab and show 'em how it's done? Maybe save Herb from embarrassing both himself and the company in front of these super smart dudes from Beijing..."

I finished my drink, tossed the cup at the reception robot, and knocked off its dumb little witch hat.

"If you want it, you can get it, let me know," I said.

"Nice shot," Liz commented.

Then we started briskly walking to Lab 4 together.

Julian and his crazy Halloween nonsense was just going to have to wait for now. I paused on that for a moment, though. How could I not?

That was... straight up... the most insane conversation I'd ever heard in my entire life.

Julian Cross was a lot of things. Annoying. Arrogant. Entitled. Gorgeous. A little weird, sure. Who is the fuck isn't? But he wasn't crazy. At least... not that kind of crazy. Right? Like why would he even bother to play along with her bullshit?

I don't know. Julian is a fucking weirdo. And it was a Halloween party, after all. Right? Maybe he was just having some fun with her... and saying whatever... but in like a spooky improv sort of way... in the hopes he might be able to turn what was clearly a very odd situation into yet another opportunity to fuck some hot older woman he met at work?

Yep. Now I see it.

Do I, though? I mean... is this basic pattern recognition plausible? Sure. Does Dr. Cross have a MILF kink? You betcha. But still... even though it looked pretty clear to me that Little Miss Fortune Teller back there was indeed DTF... that honestly just wasn't the vibe I was picking up from Julian during their bizarre little exchange.

Sail away with me. To another world...

Herb was already losing them in Lab 4.

My prototype... the AH-7... was built to strip a planet. Its purpose was simple enough: to yank dust, grit, and loose fiber out of raw alien air so the processors downstream could, hopefully, turn it into something a human could actually breathe. It was a loud, somewhat confusing machine to try to operate for a demonstration like this. The trick was the pre-ionization. One must give the field 5 seconds first so the AH-7 and its cone can differentiate between something like Martian dirt and, say, clothing. Without those 5 seconds, the machine can't tell the difference between which molecule is which. It'll see it all it as the same thing. One field. So if you're not careful, whatever you're wearing can and will get sucked in with the sample.

The thought of my machine eating Herb's pants in front of our foreign visitors made me giggle.

The AH-7 was shaking pretty violently by the time Liz and I entered the lab... and the three Tsinghua boys on the other side of the observation glass were obviously being polite to Herb... despite the fact that a mid-level American engineer was currently bullshitting them about a machine he didn't fully understand. Clearly skeptical, the three young men were physically separated from the three of us by a wall and stood in the lab's adjacent observation bay, which OmniCore used for visiting talent. Lab coats buttoned. Hands behind their backs. Eyes on the housing, not on us.

I shot Herb my best "step aside" look. Then I fixed it.

Of course I fixed it. Women run this shit.

I put my hand on the prototype like it belonged to me... which it did... because the intake geometry was my design. I then calmly walked everyone through the vortex, the electrostatic curtain, and the crucial 5 second pre-ionization process that keeps the field from treating the natural fibers of our clothing like Martian dust. My voice was professional. Corporate. Competent. The tallest one of the Tsinghua boys... the one with the sharp cheekbones... finally started nodding. The one on the left asked about charge differential and fabric in very careful, but still very broken English. Liz stood proudly at my shoulder in that flirty black dress of hers, tablet against her hip... the very picture of Dana Kessler's eyes and ears here in OmniCore Tower.

We had them.

Then... Herb must have accidentally touched the wrong fucking button.

Goddamn it, Herb. God fucking damn it.

The machine didn't warn any of us. It simply inhaled.

The sound was not a whoosh, per se. It was more like a hard, wet, sucking sound. The electrostatic curtain must have dumped its full charge a half second too early... and the intake vortex must have opened at the same time.

My dark green blouse was the first thing to go.

I felt the buttons go in a line... pop-pop-pop-pop... and then the silk was gone, yanked forward so fast the air slapped my skin. My bra followed. One strap bit my shoulder and then it was just... gone... a pale scrap spinning into the AH-7's intake grate. My skirt peeled down my hips like someone had hooked it from the inside. I grabbed. Desperately. My fingers closed on nothing. Cool lab air hit me everywhere all at once.

I clutched. My hands closed on nothing but skin. Cool air found the trimmed hair between my legs, my pussy, and the heavy undersides of my tits as they settled, bare, into the open.

Liz squealed as her little black dress, bra and thong panties were suddenly ripped away.

I turned and saw her then the way the Tsinghua boys and Herb saw her. Jesus. What a body. Maybe I should rethink Liz's standing meeting invite to achieve stakeholder alignment...

Like me in my Louis Vuittons, my friend was standing in nothing but her silver heels now... arms already crossed over an ample chest that was simply too much for her two forearms. Her nipples were pink and tight. The neat little landing strip right above her pussy was impossible to miss. The wreckage of her clothes was crudely plastered to the intake grate right next to mine.

Pretty sure my phone was in there somewhere, too. Fuck.

After most of Herb's clothes were similarly ripped away from his dad bod and into the eager mouth of my prototype, he was left standing naked from the ankles up. So... you know... not nearly quite as humiliating. But honestly just as funny as I thought it might be. His pants appeared to be caught around his ankles in a haphazard sort of way... probably because, unlike Liz and I, he was standing a little too far away from the cone when the machine activated. His cock was already rising at the sight of us, though... his female co-workers. A tight, angry little curve, dark at the head... lifting up-up-up as he breathed heavily and stared at us instead of the machine.

The three young men from Beijing had not moved.

Not a step. Not a blink.

Their eyes went to Liz first... then to me... then they stayed.

I slapped one arm across my breasts. The other hand dropped between my thighs and still left way too much showing... the outer swell, the crease, the fact that I was shaved enough for them to see the very shape of me. Liz was clearly doing the same doomed arithmetic in her own mind. Her left arm smashed her tits into a line. Her right hand cupped low. It didn't matter. For either of us. Between the two of us, there was just way too much flesh and not nearly enough hands... and, based on the look in their eyes, the boys from Beijing were enthusiastically cataloguing every inch we failed to hide.

So was Herb.

"Herb," I said. My voice cracked on his name. "Kill it."

For an older man, he moved pretty quickly. He diligently hopped toward the panel, hard cock bobbing up and down, pants only around one ankle now. "It's in lockout--"

Mandarin suddenly exploded across the lab's internal comms. We could hear our foreign visitors speaking over on their side. Fast. Overlapping. The tallest one pointed at my tits, then at Liz's... and said something that made the shortest one laugh once... kind of sharp... and then go silent again like he'd just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

I didn't need the translation. I could feel it on my skin.

Liz whispered, "Rebecca? These high profile engineering boys from Tsinghua can definitely see my pussy right now."

"Correct. They can see everything, Liz. So can Herb."

"What the fuck, dude. Why is there absolutely nothing in this fucking lab to cover up with?!?!..."

She was right. Metal benches. Cable trays. A roll of caution tape that might cover our wrists, I suppose (bet these boys would love see that, actually). No extra lab coats on the hooks. No blankets. No quick or easy way for the students to access our side of the lab directly, even if they wanted to offer their assistance, which I seriously doubt they did. Just one international imbecile, three fully dressed young men from Beijing, and two completely naked and flustered American women trying desperately not to give all these men a show and failing in the most spectacular way imaginable.

Walking to the intake grate meant turning around. Turning around meant giving them our asses (and most likely our pussies)... which only Herb had a clear, unobstructed view of at the moment... the hanging weight of our tits from the side... the whole humiliating scene of two naked women in their heels in a lab that was suddenly and completely overwhelmed by a raw, almost electric sense of sexual excitement and professional panic.

I sidestepped, trying to put the warm housing against my hip. It hid nothing useful. My breasts shifted when I moved. I felt them. I knew they saw them. The tall student's throat looked like he was gulping... a lot. He adjusted his stance the smallest possible amount... and then, behind that glass, the front of his pants told the truth of it: a thick, rather obvious ridge running down his left thigh, trapped and getting worse by the second.

It was the same with the other two.

Jesus Christ.

Lab 4 had a surprisingly accurate name, as it turns out. Because this lab was currently home to 4 separate erections. And they were each ravenous. For us. I could feel it. I could feel the intense energy of the male gaze pulsating through the lab and through my own traitorous body.

God, I fucking loved it.

I knew any one of these 4 cocks would have absolutely moved heaven and Earth to have found a way... any way... inside either myself or Liz or both if they could. I hated how much that turned me on. After successfully derailing Julian's big interview earlier with my little dance... and then seeing that bonkers fortune teller from the Halloween party downstairs flirt with him... comfort him... in a way I myself secretly wished I could... then Liz flirting with me... there was simply no denying that my own sexual engine had been humming along quite nicely even before I entered this godforsaken lab.

Herb's little cock was standing straight up and was now proudly at full attention... wet at the tip... pointed at the space between Liz and me. The shortest student's lab coat could not hide the shape under it. The one on the left had given up pretending; his bulge was blunt and heavy, tenting the dark fabric of his pants. The tallest one... Cheekbones... had both hands in his coat pockets now... and I was reasonably confident that he was already pleasuring himself underneath.

Cheekbones then found enough bits and pieces of the English language to state what had become glaringly obvious, at least to me.

"Doctor Rivers." His voice was lower than before. A small moan escaped his lips. Yep. He was definitely masturbating. "The... pre-ionize. Herb... he used... zero seconds."

I shot Herb a look designed to make him wither as a man. But he was too busy staring at my ass and licking his lips. This fucking asshole.

"Um... yes, thank you... in there... that's an... astute observation. Herb used zero," I said. My arm slipped a little. My left nipple popped into full view, tight and pale pink against the older skin around it. I yanked the arm back. Too late. All three of them had now seen my tits. The shortest one then helplessly yelped a word I actually knew.

Nǎi.

Milk.

Liz heard it too. Color flooded her throat, down onto the slopes of her breasts. "Did he just--"

"He sure did."

The middle one added something softer... almost respectful... and the tallest answered without looking away from where my hand was losing the fight between my legs. Then I caught a second word from him: āyí.

Auntie.

Charming.

And yet... his word landed in my pussy like he himself was inserting his own finger down there.

I was wet. I could feel it cooling on my inner thigh. Standing there... still trying so hard to be the powerful Chief Operating Officer of this firm that I once was... before Julian Cross... all while my tits and pussy were on full display for three apparently very lucky young Chinese men who didn't speak my language and, quite honestly, didn't need to.

Herb made a noise. I looked back over at him before I could stop myself. Now he was staring at Liz's ass... at the way her silver heels made it lift... at the dark cleft she couldn't hide unless she turned and gave him her tits instead. His cock jerked. A bead welled and dropped onto the tile.

"Stop looking at her," I snapped.

"I'm not--"

"You are. They are. Everyone in this lab is looking, Herb, and you are fucking hard. And dripping on my goddamn lab floor, I might add."

He smiled sheepishly. Then he gulped hard. Herb maintained direct eye contact with me as he slowly reached his hand down and began stroking his own cock.

I looked at him with a sense of exhaustion. "Come on, dude! You cannot be fucking serious right now." I stated plainly.

For a guy a few years my senior, he started jerking himself pretty fast and quick after I said that. There was a certain passion, intensity and even physical athleticism in just how quickly ol' Herb was able to get himself from zero to sixty. It was honestly kind of impressive. Wish he brought even a quarter of that same determination to his fucking job.

"You come on," he replied, almost defiantly at me. "Unnnhhh. Please. Fuck, yes. I've worked under you for years and years now, you fucking goddess. We both know you can put on one hell of a show, Rebecca."

True.

Herb seemed pretty intent on finishing what I knew he had started on "Take Your Son to Work Day". Except now... instead of having to look at Julian... he got to feast his eyes on me and Liz.

Speaking of... I watched as Herb's eyes started darting back and forth between Liz and myself. Pathetic. Like a kid in a candy store, poor old Herb couldn't decide which one of us he wanted to taste first.

The shortest student slowly lifted his phone.

"No." I quickly and emphatically stated as calmly as I possibly could... given the rather unique set of circumstances we all found ourselves in at the present moment. I pointed with the arm that was supposed to be saving my dignity... at least on this one front. Both breasts swung free for a full second... heavy... my aching nipples aimed directly at three pairs of very hungry black eyes. I covered again, panting. "不许拍照. I sincerely hope I said that correctly, fellas. My Mandarin is a little rusty. No pictures, gentlemen. Please. Look with your eyes if you have to. You do not, however, get to memorialize today's OmniCore AH-7 demonstration. My sincerest apologies if we have offended you or your culture in any way."

He frowned... but he did as he was told and lowered the phone. He did not look away, though. None of them did. All 4 men were clearly seizing this golden opportunity and drinking us in. With at least 2 cocks actively being serviced by their owners at this very moment by the visual stimulation that was unwillingly being provided by both Miss Healy and myself... I kept imagining what these men must all be seeing right now... Liz and I... very quickly and suddenly stripped bare and left wearing only our heels... arms shaking slightly... thighs and ass and pubic hair and tits everywhere... not to mention the obvious fact that we could not close our legs entirely or really even move in the slightest without inadvertently flashing something else.

Liz tried to laugh, but it came out wrecked. "Seems like we have ourselves a bit of a containment issue here, Dr. Rivers."

"At the moment, Miss Healy... this is a staring issue."

"Your ass looks absolutely incredible, by the way," Liz remarked casually. "I'd literally kill to have your legs. Didn't you just have a kid?? I mean... seriously. Rebecca. You have got to tell me your workout regimen, girl."

The tallest one unbuttoned his lab coat.

For one incredibly stupid and hopeful second I thought he was going to come on in and hand it over like a gentleman.

He took it off. Folded it over his arm. Underneath, his shirt was pulled tight across a flat stomach... with a rock hard cock that was utterly shameless now. He held the coat. He did not offer it.

He looked from my face to my breasts to my hand... the one currently trying its very best to hide my pussy... and he asked, very politely:

"The field... cone... it prefers... natural fiber?"

"Believe it or not... cotton is worse," I said. My mouth was dry and I was trying to maintain as much professional dignity as I could possibly muster. "It holds the charge. Comes off like dust."

"Your... blouse... was not... cotton."

"No. You're right. It wasn't. It was silk. Silk just... you know... leaves."

Liz made a tiny sound. Her right hand slipped. They all saw the full dark thatch of her then. She quickly grabbed herself to cover up again... hard enough to slap the flesh of her own thigh.

The student on the left said something that made the other two nod... slow... like they were agreeing on a measurement. Then he tried English.

"You are... cold?"

My nipples could have cut glass... and it was not just the air.

He nodded as if that explained to his satisfaction the scientific reason why my nipples were standing up, the way my areolas had crinkled, the way Liz's big tits had essentially done the same. He shifted again. The outline of him was obscene. Young. Thick. And aimed directly at us.

4 cocks. 2 women. No language in common except the one our bodies were speaking.

Herb managed to stop jacking off long enough to finally flip the kill switch. The AH-7 died with a shudder. My ruined blouse and Liz's fun little Halloween dress hung from the intake grate like trophies. Nobody moved to get them.

I stayed where I was.

So did Liz.

So did Cheekbones and the Beijing Boys.

Herb grunted, bit his lower lip and resumed masturbating. Herb seemed like he was regressing into a caveman or something... and I kind of liked it. I tossed my luscious hair, as Owen had called it, and then rolled my hips for him. Just a little.

Cheekbones spoke in Mandarin... quiet... almost to himself... and the shortest one answered without blinking. I didn't know the words. I knew the tone. I knew where their eyes were focused: on the place my fingers couldn't fully close... on the wetness I could feel and they could probably see... on Liz's nipples peeking up over her arm every time she breathed.

Liz looked at the Beijing boys behind the glass. Then over at Herb who was going to town on himself. Then back at me.

Some sort of dam broke behind her blue eyes... and then she very gently started playing with herself, too.

"Rebecca," Liz whispered. "I think I'm going to come. Especially if they all keep looking at me like this. Fuck. They are yearning. For us. I can feel it. It's too much..."

"Don't you fucking dare."

"I'm serious. I can feel it. Look in their eyes. I can feel what they want to do to me."

I could feel it too. The heat. The shame that wasn't stopping it. The knowledge that these three young men from Beijing had flown halfway across the world... walked into a New York lab this morning to see a new terraforming machine... and were instead invited to watch Liz and I try and fail to cover our tits and our pussies while Herb admired our bodies from behind and jacked off.

I turned back to Herb to check on his... progress? We locked eyes again. A little haughty, I arched my eyebrow at him in disgust and disapproval. He came almost immediately.

"Oh, god... please... I need to be inside of you, Aurora!!"

Hold the fucking phone.

"Wait a minute! Herb! You piece of shit. You've known me forever. Did you tell that fucking fortune teller in the lobby my middle name??"

He was wrecked. Panting heavily. "I don't know. She and I were discussing all sorts of things right before you walked up and interrupted my complimentary session with her. My hopes. My dreams. My ex-wife. My... intense and recurring sexual fantasies... about my longtime boss... that may or may not have been the leading cause of my divorce. The shrine I have dedicated to the one and only Dr. Rebecca Aurora Rivers in my bedroom. So... your full name and bio... you know... it could have been... I don't know... it may have been mentioned... in passing..."

Wow. Well... that solves one spooky mystery at least.

Just then, Owen Briggs and Larry from Security strolled into the lab.

Of course they did.

"Knock, knock! Hey gang, heard there was some kind of mechanical commotion up in here...." Owen cheerfully began before quickly trailing off. His mouth dropped at the sight of me. Of Herb aggressively jacking off while watching both me and Liz. Of the Tsinghua boys watching us all from behind the glass, clearly touching themselves. But then he and Larry both quickly turned their attention to Liz... who was at this point now openly masturbating as well.

In addition to all the attention she was getting from Herb and the Beijing boys, the sudden and newly added attention from Owen and Larry seemed to be the thing that finally drove Liz completely over the edge.

"Oh god... Rebecca... it's happening... I'm coming!" Liz suddenly exclaimed as she worked her clit.

As my friend very publicly crumbled in front of all of us, two separate spurts of thick cum suddenly hit the glass divider almost instantaneously. One heavy plop against the glass, followed almost immediately by the next. Liz had just made two of those boys behind the glass come.

I sighed. Guess she couldn't quite nail the trifecta in there. Might as well finish them all off, right? After all, they came such a long way.

I looked seductively into the glass. Into the souls of the three young men behind the glass. This was fucking ridiculous. Not necessarily the "machine made of rainbows" type of ridiculous I endured earlier, mind you... but it was still pretty close. I stopped the fool's errand of trying to cover myself up and instead simply held their gaze as I placed my hands confidently on my hips.

Their view was completely unobstructed now.

"Didn't one of you guys mention 'aunties' earlier?" I smiled as I playfully bit my bottom lip. Then I flipped to my most desperate tone of voice.

"Oh fuck... you boys are so far from home. So smart. So handsome. Who will take care of you and tend to you this evening at your hotel? I know... maybe I'll be your auntie tonight... but you have to promise to be good to your sweet American auntie... and you have promise to give me all of it..."

A third and final plop of jizz hit sloppily against the glass.

There it is. That was easy.

"It's like I always try to tell you," Owen said to Larry as he gently elbowed him in the side. "The pay sucks... no doubt... but the perks and benefits around here are truly elite, brother. Unmatched."

Larry looked stunned. And, much like Owen, very aroused. "Is... is this a dream...?"

Owen laughed and slapped Larry on the back. "Buddy... if it is... please don't wake me up."

I could see their pants already getting tight. I could feel the energy of their hungry cocks blooming rapidly underneath.

All right. Enough fun. In addition to Liz's orgasm, we had just made 4 cocks explode. We didn't have time for another 2.

I lifted my chin. Improvise, adapt, overcome.

My voice came out slightly more wrecked than I intended... like I was still trying to lead a standard prototype demonstration.

"Owen and Larry. Front and center, boys. Okay. Here's what is going to happen next. You two are going to walk over to Lab 1, which I know for a fact is fully stocked, and find two extra lab coats for Liz and I. Until then... you three behind the glass... you guys will keep your phones in your pockets and your mouths in Mandarin if you can't make yourselves useful. Herb... clean yourself up, for fuck's sake. And, hey, if any of you boys say āyí again while you're ogling my tits... your auntie here will have this prototype of hers certified as a workplace hazard... and then you three can go home and try to explain your role in my incident report to Tsinghua yourselves."

The tallest one's mouth twitched.

He did not look away from my breasts.

Neither did the other two.

Herb's cock jumped again, helpless.

Liz's hand trembled over her pussy.

Owen and Larry seemed quite disappointed at the task they'd just been assigned, but they nevertheless slowly left Lab 4 and started making their way towards Lab 1 as they were told.

See? I've regained control of the situation. Everything is fine. Right?

"Doctor Rivers," Cheekbones began. His English was painfully broken over the comms system. "... and... Miss Healy. Your... wisdom... your... beauty... make me... no... inspire... us... all... to reach... the stars."

Oh my god.

That was the single most romantic thing any man had ever said to me in my entire fucking life.

Owen and Larry, both looking incredibly crestfallen, returned with the extra lab coats. Liz and I quickly took them from their somewhat hesitant hands. We put on the coats, and quickly covered ourselves. Herb was busy putting his pants back on.

I looked into the glass and smiled at all three of those young men warmly. "Thank you. That's a... um... a truly beautiful sentiment. Gentlemen... that concludes today's demonstration of the AH-7. Should any of you or your professors at Tsinghua have any questions or concerns... about any of the new and exciting terraforming products and initiatives here at OmniCore... please don't hesitate to reach out to me directly."

I looked into the glass and caught my own reflection there for a moment.

That one young man's words about reaching the stars had moved me. Which isn't an easy thing to accomplish. Despite my prototype unceremoniously ripping off my clothes in front of an entire group of strange men, I still felt a certain sense of professional pride that I had not felt since I returned from my recent maternity leave.

"My name is Dr. Rebecca Aurora Rivers, gentlemen. And I'm straight out the county of Dade."

"Jesus, Rebecca," Liz whispered, low enough so that only I could hear. "If you keep talking like that... you're going to make me come again."

"Don't tempt me, Miss Healy," I smiled at her wryly. "I'm on a roll today."

Cheekbones' eyes immediately lit up in recognition of my reference. "Trick Daddy!" he exclaimed. "Doctor Rivers... uh... strictly for the thugs!!"

I winked at him. "Goddamn right. If you want it, you can get it, let me know."

Let's go.

But first... mama needs a break.

I said goodbye to Liz and the gang, and then took the elevator up by myself. Alone.

Conference Room C was dark enough that the Midtown grid outside the glass looked like a circuit board. The 77th floor smelled like primer and fresh carpet. Empty for now. I figured it was as good a place as any to get a few minutes alone with my thoughts. Most of the furniture was still in plastic. I took the nearest chair to the door, sat, and then let out a long, deep sigh.

What the fuck. To be fair, I suppose one might--

"Hey, girl."

I jumped like a scared cat.

Julian Cross was at the far end of the table, draped in the leftover shadow the renovation lights hadn't found yet. One leg crossed over the other.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Cross. Announce yourself like a goddamn person."

I hit the wall switch. The fluorescent lights stuttered a little, then held. He squinted. Then he looked at me properly.

"Rough day?" He looked me up and down. "Um... quick question... and I'm certainly not complaining.... but why are you wearing a lab coat and only a lab coat?"

"There was a situation in Lab 4." I sat back down and crossed my legs like I still had both a) authority and b) underwear. The coat rode up my thighs a little. Ok, a lot. I let it. "The situation called for a seasoned executive with hands-on experience and practical leadership skills. So, naturally, no one bothered to reach out to you for assistance."

He listened. Nodded once, like I'd briefed him on a delayed shipment.

"I see. And how exactly did you handle this... situation? Because on my way up here... I could have sworn I overheard Larry tell Owen this Halloween was the single greatest day of his entire life. Specifically because of the events in Lab 4."

I did not take the bait.

"What are you doing up here bothering me anyway, Julian? This floor is empty. Besides... isn't there a slutty little fortune teller fluttering around this building somewhere who wants to suck your cock?"

"Oh. Her." His eyes sharpened. "Were you spying on us, Rivers?"

"Oh my god, can you stop flattering yourself for 2 goddamn seconds. It's infuriating. Trust me. I have far better things to do with my time than micromanage the likes of you... or keep tabs on your various comings and goings."

"That's funny," he said. "Because all I want to do is keep tabs on you."

I rolled my eyes and recrossed my legs the other way. The lab coat split along my thigh. His gaze dropped and stayed there a beat too long... mapping the muscle, the length... the fact that there was nothing under the hem but me and he knew it.

"Well," he said, quieter, "whatever happened in Lab 4, I'm sorry I missed all the excitement. No doubt it was quite the command performance on your part. But I really shouldn't be so greedy. After all, I was given my very own special, private Rebecca Rivers performance this morning."

I smiled. Sweet. Mean.

"I don't expect they'll be booking you on Squawk Box again anytime soon."

His eyes had already left my legs. They were on the open V of the lab coat now, on the heavy spill of my breasts and the cleavage the cheap snap couldn't contain. He swallowed.

"You look so... full. Again."

He paused. He was searching my eyes. But I wasn't going to give him anything.

"We're all alone up here, Rivers. Like you said."

The look in his eyes was distant and hungry all at the same time. After his interview... after Lab 4... my body was already a live wire. I fucking hated how fast it answered to him.

"Hard pass. Absolutely not." I stated. "And, honestly, fuck you for even trying. I don't play second fiddle or sloppy seconds to anyone, you motherfucker... especially not some cheap corporate fortune teller floozy."

He locked on. No smirk this time. No half smile.

"She asked me out. I said no."

I laughed. "Oh, is that a fact? Because you two looked pretty fucking cozy down in the lobby from what I could see. I know you, Julian. I know what kind of man you are. You took that poor, delusional woman to some dark, hidden corner of OmniCore Tower and you fucked her, didn't you?"

A pause. Honest enough to sting.

"I wanted to, sure. But I didn't."

"Liar. Why not? We both know you have a type. I saw the way she was looking at you."

"I just... told her the truth. That I was seeing someone."

I laughed again. But it came out thinner than I wanted.

"Who? Me? If you think that's the case, Julian... then you're just as fucking nuts as your fortune teller."

He smiled. Small. Unarmored.

"I don't know. Maybe I am fucking nuts. But... maybe... the world needs absurd men, too, you know? From time to time."

I rolled my eyes. "Well," I said, "I for one sincerely hope there never comes a time when this world suddenly needs you or your services."

His face changed. The cocky version of him left the room.

"Me too."

His little "me too" was sort of sweet and vulnerable. Jesus. I was so wet for him it was fucking embarrassing.

We regarded one another for a moment from across the table. Then I pointed at the carpet.

"Crawl."

He blinked.

"Rebecca--"

"I said crawl, Cross. Don't fucking make me say it twice. Hands and knees. Now. Slow. I want to watch you."

Surprise first. Then that dark focus I already knew. He stood... undid his tie like it was a choice, not a costume change, and let it drop. Jacket off. He folded it over the nearest chair with irritating precision, dropped to the floor, and then started toward me.

God help me.

Dr. Julian Cross on his hands and knees... Armani trousers pulling tight across his ass, dress shirt stretching over his shoulders every time he planted a palm. The renovation dust clung to his cuffs. His dark hair fell forward helplessly. That unfair face of his tilted up at me between steps. His jaw was tight, but his eyes never left mine. The line of his cock was already obvious... heavy against the fabric... swinging a little with each advance. Fuck yeah. I watched the flex of his forearms. The way his throat worked. The expensive Richard Mille watch of his catching the cheap fluorescent lighting every time his wrist came back down. By the time he reached my chair I could hear him breathing.

"Stay."

He stayed. On his hands and knees. Waiting.

I opened the lab coat and hooked one heel on the edge of my chair. I put my hand in his hair and pulled his mouth to me.

"Eat."

His mouth was hot. Immediate. He licked through me like he'd been thinking about it all day... slow at first, then greedy... tongue flat, then pointed... sucking my clit with a focus that made my head tip back. I held him there. Watched his shoulders work. Watched that pretty prodigy face of his disappear between my thighs. He groaned into me when he tasted how wet I already was for him. Two fingers found me... crooked... and I gasped.

He sucked harder. I came so fast my body didn't even try to be polite about it. Here comes Rivers. The squirt from my pussy hit Julian's mouth, his cheek, and the bridge of his nose. He jerked back in shock, then made a hungry noise and licked what he could reach... dripping, stunned and very hard.

The dark look settled over his eyes like a storm cloud.

He stood... scooped me out of the chair like I weighed nothing... and then put me on my back on the conference table. The laminate was cold through the lab coat. He unbuttoned it slowly. One snap. Two. Three. My breasts spilled out heavy. Milk already threatening. Bare hips. Bare everything.

He looked at me then the same way he had in the elevator... right before he stopped asking... and started taking.

Then he got on top of me.

I wrapped my thighs around him. He found me fast and pushed himself into my pussy in one long, stretching slide. Full. So full. God, I loved every inch.

My body remembered him and opened fully.

He didn't look away.

Neither did I.

"Fuck--Julian--"

"I've got you." His voice was rough and low. Forehead almost to mine. "Look at me."

He fucked me like he meant it this time. Hard, deep, and completely unhurried. Each stroke bottomed out and stayed a second too long. The table creaked and complained as he had his way with me. My Louis Vuittons hooked the small of his back. I could feel the small things only a lover gets... the hitch in his breath when I clenched... the faint scar at his temple... the way his left hand shook once before it steadied on my hip... the heat of his stomach against mine.

"Lab 4," I said against his mouth, as he pounded my pussy relentlessly. "Herb hit the wrong button. Oh fuck. The AH-7 ate all my clothes. Liz's too. Three Tsinghua boys behind the glass. Oh my god... it's so thick. They were rock hard, Julian. YES! Staring at us. Yearning. One of them said nǎi. One of them said auntie. Herb jerked off looking at us. He came. Liz came. The boys came. I made the last one finish on the glass just by standing there..."

Julian's steady rhythm broke... then it roared back to life and got wild and even more intense. Better. His eyes went black.

"Christ, Rebecca--"

"They saw everything. My tits. My pussy. I couldn't cover it. I didn't want to. And I thought about you the whole time, you arrogant little shit. I thought about this cock... while they fucking watched me..."

"No one compares to you." He thrust harder, teeth at my jaw. "Not her. Not anyone. I didn't touch her because... she isn't you. She doesn't sound like you. She doesn't look like you. This pussy is mine, Rebecca. You're mine. Say it..."

"Fuck you."

"Say it while I'm in you..."

"You're mine," I suddenly gasped, furious and more honest than I cared to admit. "This dick is mine. Do you understand? And don't you ever fucking crawl for anyone else."

"Yes, ma'am." He smiled against my mouth, breathing heavily. "Now come with me. I want it. With you. Together. I want to feel you come on my dick while I fill you..."

"Julian--oh god, baby... don't stop--fuck, I'm--"

"I've got you. Come for me. Give it to me, Rebecca. All of it..."

I came with my eyes open. So did he. We came together at the exact same second. My pussy locked down on him... I heard a broken sound I didn't recognize as mine... his hips slamming through it... ropes and ropes of his hot cum spilling deep inside me... his forehead crushed to mine... both of us shaking on a cheap conference room table. Milk wet his shirt. His cum wet my thighs. I held his face and didn't look away until the last pulse had left him.

After, he pulled out slow, gathered me up, and wrapped his arms around me. We used my lab coat like a little blanket. It was doing a terrible job. His lips found my temple. My hand found him... lazy... and I squeezed once.

"Still absurd," I murmured. "And still huge. It's unreasonable, Julian, honestly."

He laughed. "You lost your clothes today to a vacuum cleaner that you invented, Rivers. So... no, I'm not taking notes on what is and what is not reasonable from you."

I laughed. He leaned in for another kiss...

The door to Conference Room C swung wide open.

Liz?

I shoved Julian off the table so hard he hit the floor with a thud that was definitely going to leave a mark. I sat up and swung the lab coat back on. My heart was already sinking fast because of the look on Liz's face.

Still in her lab coat, she was holding my phone.

"What's wrong?" My voice went very thin. "What happened?"

"Everything is okay, Rebecca." Liz came in fast... worried, but kind. "Your nanny Rosalita has been trying to reach you for the past 45 minutes. We just pulled your phone out of the AH-7's intake grate. Grace is sick, honey. Rosalita had to take her to St. Joseph's Children's Hospital in Paterson..."

The room tilted.

I was moving for the door before she even finished her sentence. Liz caught my arm.

"Stop, babe. Think. Midtown to Paterson at this time of day is a nightmare. You will sit in traffic for hours. You will not get to her any faster by running downstairs and..."

"Then find me a route that works. Quickly."

We argued three of them for about twenty seconds. All of them were bad. Tunnel. Bridge. PATH. I could feel myself failing her in real time.

I'm a horrible mother.

Just then, Julian sat up from the floor. His hair disheveled, shirt ruined.

"Hey. Uh... so I've got a helicopter. It's on top of OmniCore Tower as we speak."

Liz and I both stared at him.

"Dude. Are you rich?" Liz asked.

"I'm not," he said. "But my family is. I mean... let's get real, guys. Commuting into this city every day for work sucks. Why not fly a helicopter to the office? Come on, Rivers. Easy peas-y, lemon squeezy. I'll get you to your daughter in no time..."

"No, Julian." It came out raw. Mean. Almost cruel. "This isn't funny. This is not a fucking game. It's not part of... whatever it is that you and I are doing. This is my daughter. She is my whole world. My whole fucking heart. Can you understand that? So... no. I don't want to ride in your parent's goddamn helicopter. And just to be painfully clear... when it comes to absolutely anything having to do with my daughter... from this moment until my last moment... the answer for you will always be no. A thousand times no. Not you, Julian. Never you."

He didn't flinch the way I wanted him to. He sighed. But then he stayed in it.

"I know I'm not your first choice on this one, Rebecca. I get it. I really do. But right now, in this moment, there is no one who can get you to Grace faster than me. That's just a fact. And you and I both know you're not the kind of woman who ignores facts. So please. Just this once. Let me help you, Rebecca. Please."

A tear hit my cheek before I could stop it.

This motherfucker.

I looked at Liz. She nodded. I looked at my phone. Then I looked at the man on the floor who had just been inside me and was now offering me the sky.

We went. The three of us. Toward the roof, toward Julian's helicopter, toward my girl.

Let's go.

♫ "I got bills to pay and children who need clothes

I know there's fish out there, but where God only knows

They say these waters aren't what they used to be

But I got people back on land who count on me ♫

♫ So if you see my downeaster 'Alexa'

And if you work with the rod and the reel

Tell my wife I am trolling Atlantis

And I still have my hands on the wheel " ♫

- "The Downeaster 'Alexa'". Written and recorded by Billy Joel (1990).