by Raine Miller
The prince poured on the charm thick and syrupy. “I’m very pleased to meet you. I’ve heard so many good things about you from Emilio.”
“Your Highness, I hope you didn’t believe everything. Emilio tends to exaggerate.” Enrique chuckled, but I could tell he was concerned about what Emilio had said. I felt so in tune with Enrique, it seemed like I could read his emotions. But I still couldn’t read a damn thing from his mind.
“Please feel free to address me as Rahim. We are among friends here. I don’t like to use royal titles when I can avoid it, seems too pretentious.” Pretentious was exactly the word for him. Pretentious, pompous, imperious, affected. He was short like Emilio, but much darker in color, swarthy, with a head of tight, reddish brown curls. Rahim spoke with an ever-so-slight Middle Eastern accent in articulate English. He sounded worldly and highly educated. It was easy to believe the pretentious ass had relations with the Saudi Royal family, even though he didn’t.
The alarms started going off right out the gate. He had lied about his supposed connection to the Saudi King. Rahim was so smooth he didn’t even have to propagate his lies, he conned Emilio into doing it for him. Emilio bragged about Rahim’s nonexistent banking relationships in Dubai and imaginary cousins in the Saudi Royal family. Emilio was such a sucker, blathering excitedly about this phenomenal new buy–sell investment program, which he also called a trade platform.
It was all bullshit, starting with Rahim himself, or more accurately, Jaleel Ahmet, from Chicago, Illinois, born and raised right here in the good ‘ole US of A. Rahim’s only knowledge of the Saudi Royal family came from world news, magazines, and Google. He’d never been to Saudi Arabia or Dubai, but could expound for hours with seemingly educated opinions on the problems of Saudi society, politics, law, customs, and of course, oil. He had a library of written material on the Saudi’s, and he spoke just enough Arabic to convince idiot American investors of his authenticity.
Rahim had several clients he’d conned into his trade platform totaling three million so far. He paid generous commissions to Emilio for another sucker he’d brought in. Needless to say, Emilio was hyped up – well motivated, doing his damnedest to convince Enrique to invest. It seemed Emilio’s problem was greed. He didn’t attempt to verify Rahim’s claims – he hadn’t even run a standard background check on Rahim.
Each comment from Emilio sparked little nuggets of truth in Rahim’s mind. I found liars always focus intently on both the lie and the truth simultaneously as the falsehood is weaved into a tapestry of creative bullshit.
Emilio rambled on and on with diarrhea of the mouth. “The Prince has an exclusive invitation-only buy-sell platform. Although it’s impossible to make any guarantees, historically the platform has profit returns in the neighborhood of thirty percent monthly or more per month.”
Pure fantasy. Platform didn’t exist. No returns were paid to anyone apart from a few initial payments coming from new investors funds used to pay earlier investors. I think it’s called robbing Peter to pay Paul.
The one investor Emilio referred hadn’t received a single payout from the fantasy platform, but Emilio was okay, he’d collected his broker’s commission up front. Emilio had no proof the imaginary platform had ever paid out, and yet he promoted it.
I dived right into the role Enrique wished me to play. “Thirty percent monthly, why so high? I thought the stock market only produced like ten percent a year if you’re lucky.”
I didn’t know a thing about the stock market, but I’d recently read a spam email that complained about the ten percent average yield of the stock market. Enrique’s eyebrows rose up at my question. He held my hand and smiled warmly as we waited for Emilio’s answer.
“That’s so true, so true. Lucky for us the platform isn’t a function of the stock market, it’s a series of private contracts to buy medium-term notes at a discount and sell at a profit instantaneously. The trader already knows his profit in advance.”
What a mouthful. Emilio believed every word of it, which didn’t change the fact it was all bullshit.
“How fascinating.” I could do the dumb blonde role all night long. I felt like a child playing in a pool of sharks – does the big mean fish with all those teeth bite? Of course it does.
Emilio bit into my dumb blonde act. “The trader managing the platform has a special banking arrangement. Accounts are blocked, monies are never at risk. The best part, the trader offers a tax treaty to the investor. All proceeds are tax-free.”
“Oh my.”
I gave him my earnest look of admiration. The same look I give a client after unsatisfying sex when he asks, “was it good for you?”
The whole thing was artfully elaborated crap – all of it – every single word. In the background, Rahim had a man who pretended to be a trader, Gregory Cranston. But Cranston was not what he seemed. The funds invested in this fantasy platform were not blocked at all.
I caught a thread of thought coming from Rahim that turned my guts cold. Without thinking I opened my mouth to ask Rahim a direct question. “Who is the trader?”
A small slip up on my part, Rahim hadn’t been speaking at all. I’d asked Rahim because of his thoughts. I hoped he didn’t notice how eager I was. My instincts hit home when Rahim leaned toward me, sloshing his syrupy charm all over.
“Ah, we’ve truly caught Hope’s interest. I had worried the conversation would bore you to tears. You must be an exceptionally intelligent woman to hit the heart of the matter so soon.”
As I’d worried, Rahim had noticed my unusual eagerness. He wasn’t alarmed, but he put the brakes on Emilio’s free-flowing mouth.
“The trader, my dear, cannot be divulged without undergoing certain formalities. We must have documented history and proof of funds for legal compliance. I assume Emilio sent you the file with the sample documents?”
Emilio chimed in, “I confirmed Senor Reguera’s receipt of my email yesterday evening.”
Enrique came back smoothly, “My secretary will have them ready soon.”
Rahim took my hand in his. He pulled me close to kiss my hand with regal charm, and then patted the back of my hand as if that made it all better.
“I regret to disappoint a beautiful woman, but we must adhere to the rules of private placement. The SEC is very strict about these things.”
He didn’t disappoint me at all. I was livid with rage at what I learned when he foolishly grabbed my hand. The close contact brought an avalanche of details. I learned far more than I ever would have if the prick hadn’t kissed my hand.
I could barely restrain myself from clawing his beady little eyes out. The bastard trader was no trader at all. He was an FBI agent paying Rahim as a federal confidential informant. They used Rahim’s scam to fish for investors whose source of funds were questionable. They investigated everyone’s bank accounts and assets, searching for money launderers. They had identified several. Money launderers are attracted to this kind of investment, it helps legitimize their funds for tax filings. That’s why they dangled the tax treaty bait. Money launderers are drawn to that immediately.
Rahim sat back to watch me as I struggled to keep my emotions in check. I caught his interest. He had a hard-on for me.
“Do I detect a hint of an accent? What is your heritage Hope?”
He wanted to know more about me. Wanted me bent over the dining table. Wanted to take me in the bathroom and bang me up against the wall. I didn’t want that nasty son-of-a-bitch to know anything more than he already knew. I wished I’d never met him. Then Enrique jumped in and volunteered the answer.
“She’s visiting from Colombia. She’s acquired a scholarship and wishes to attend NYU.”
Oh how I regretted Enrique’s input. He divulged way too much information. Rahim’s mind raced with the potential opportunities to take advantage of me. As he sat there with his creepy little charming half smile, Rahim schemed a twisted plot. He wanted to steal Enrique’s money, have him indicted, and then blackmail me into having se
x with him in exchange for immunity from prosecution as a minor party on the indictment.
All my life I had believed the cartels and Traquetos were the most evil, predatory people in the world. Rahim and the undercover FBI agent Cranston were the real predators. They siphoned millions off the economy, and destroyed whole families with indictments and ruined reputations.
It made me physically sick to sit at the table so near to him. He was the vilest, most despicable, most corruptly powerful man I’d ever encountered. And I definitely didn’t like the idea that he knew so much about me. He could have me thrown in federal detention and deported with a phone call.
I tried my best to retain composure in the midst of the shocking revelations, but something must have shown in my face. A small glimpse of my shock slipped past the mask. Rahim thought I’d somehow misinterpreted his words. He moved in close to apologize. I shied away from him, instinctively sliding towards Enrique who was already up out of his seat, taking me under his arm to comfort me.
Enrique interrupted Rahim. “Hope, what’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?”
When I nodded yes, not trusting myself to speak, he reacted immediately, pulling my chair out and helping me to my feet.
“Let’s get you to the restroom.” He ushered me away from the table where they sat looking puzzled by my sudden illness.
As we neared the restrooms he whispered low at my ear. “What happened?”
“I don’t want to be near that man anymore. Don’t give him your information. Don’t give him any money!”
I calmed in Enrique’s embrace. My earlier anxiety shifted gears to anger. I explained the scam, that Rahim was nothing more than a con artist. And then I did something totally out of character. I got some weird idea about truth, justice, right and wrong.
“You have to stop him! He can’t be allowed to destroy people’s lives like this!” Where did I come off acting all holier-than-thou?
Something about Rahim’s scam aroused a powerfully righteous anger. I wanted God to smite him right there at the dinner table. Rahim needed to be struck down by lightning, washed away in a flood, decapitated in a subway accident like a teenager in a horror film. I’m not usually hateful and vindictive. Rahim found a way to bring out all the worst in me.
“I’ll tell them you’re not feeling well and the meeting will have to be rescheduled. Ahht!” He interrupted my protests. “Not here, not now. We’ll talk at home in private.” He shut me down for the moment.
We arrived home an hour later. By then I’d relaxed and had time to think clearly about the situation. Enrique took care of business first. He took me straight to bed, made mad passionate love to me, and bit me good and hard just the way I like it. That stole some thunder from my righteous anger. It’s hard to focus on bringing the wrath of God down on your enemy’s head in the middle of mind blowing sex.
“Are you feeling better now?” I snuggled up into his arms and sighed with pleasure. “Do you feel up to talking about it?”
“Sure.” I wiggled my butt playfully up against him.
“Tell me what had you so upset.”
I explained everything, the fake name, scam investments, the federal agent behind it all, and even Rahim’s designs on me. Enrique listened intently without interruption. His features were well schooled, showing very little surprise or reaction. When he finally commented, it wasn’t what I expected.
“It looks like we’ve found your calling. You’re hired, permanently. I want you present at all my major business functions. I want detailed written reports of what my associate’s thoughts are versus what they have to say.”
I was shocked to say the least, happily shocked. I had a career now, with real prospects for a bright shiny future, if only I could survive long enough to reap the benefits. This far exceeded any of my expectations. But there was still some unfinished business.
“What are you gonna do about Rahim?”
“Nothing. I’ll respectfully decline his offer to invest and that’s the end of it. I don’t think I’ll ever work with Emilio again. His greed blinds him. He can’t be trusted.”
“You have to put a stop to it. He’s a horribly dangerous man. He’s gonna continue to destroy people and steal their money!”
“What would you suggest I do?”
That threw me for a loop. No one ever cared about my opinions before. No one ever sought my counsel for anything, except to play lie detector.
“I don’t know … Isn’t there some government agency that would arrest him? Maybe the SEC?”
“And his federal agent buddy would immediately step forward to have all charges dropped based on his ongoing cooperation and efforts in other government investigations. There’s nothing we can do legally.”
“But he must be stopped! He’s the worst kind of predator – worse than any drug dealer!”
“Let me think on it a while. But for now we simply avoid him and count ourselves lucky for doing so.”
***
CHAPTER 13
The next afternoon I awoke at five p.m. to a wonderfully pleasant surprise. There on my nightly tray, right beside my dinner, cans of Ensure, and syringe loaded with venom, was a four page document and a note attached.
Dear Hope:
Take some time to review this employment contract. If satisfactory, please sign and make yourself a copy.
Love,
Enrique
I took care of my needs first of course. I had quickly become proficient at tying off my arm, finding the vein in the crook of my elbow, and injecting myself with Enrique’s personal brand of liquid euphoria. First things first.
After wiping the slobber off my jaw and cleaning up from the mind-altering orgasm, I sat down to review the best job offer of my life. Nothing short of a miracle. A blessing from God. The best thing that ever happened to me. A hundred thousand dollars annual salary, three weeks paid vacation, all travel and food expenses paid on business trips along with a per diem, and any college classes I required paid in full, including classes on intercultural etiquette – to be enrolled ASAP. The sweetest part of the deal, a signing bonus of $20,000 paid immediately – for services rendered to date.
What were my duties? Attend all mandatory business meetings and provide a full detailed written report of all communications between parties and any of my thoughts, opinions, and intuitions. It didn’t outright say telepathic eavesdropping, but I read between the lines well enough to interpret the picture. I had been hired to spy on everyone Enrique does business with.
Maybe it was the venom high, or the fact I didn’t want to give him a chance to retract the offer, I signed it immediately. I didn’t wait to ask a single question. I was already in the office, typing my report on Rahim and Emilio, by the time Enrique arrived a little after seven.
He walked up to my desk, watched me, looking for some hint of my reaction. I kept typing, ignoring him for about thirty seconds. Enrique had the patience of a two hundred-year old man. He waited silently until I couldn’t hold back my enthusiasm any longer. I honestly can’t recall a time I’ve ever been happier.
My vision had blurred from the tears in my eyes. Tears of joy. When I looked up at his smiling face I lost it. I leaped into his arms in delight, kissing him all over with a shower of, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“It pleases me to see you happy.”
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
I couldn’t restrain myself and didn’t even try. He kissed me back. His hands slipped inside my silk robe to find me without underwear. He played with me, working his fingers in and out, driving me crazy with anticipation. He had me grinding in time with his hand, worked to a frenzy. I tore through his belt and zipper, trying to get into his pants as fast as humanly possible. By the time I took his cock in hand I’d already come all over his fingers inside me.
I was so high on life, on Enrique, I pushed him down into my office chair and went deep throat. I sucked and stroked him at the same time. He liked it as
I cupped his balls nibbling on the very tip and then plunged down to swallow all of him. Every time I came up for air I followed with my hand pumping up and down. I rubbed the soft underside of his head with my thumb. He squirmed, his intense eyes staring at me when he came.
Then I did something I’ve never done for any man, ever. I clamped down on his cock, and sucked as hard as I could. I swallowed every last drop I could milk from him. That’s how happy he made me, how strongly I felt for him. I doubt he understood the significance of the moment, but to me it represented a pledge of devotion. That’s when the truth hit me dead on. Not only had I done something I never do, but I opened my mouth and said the words I have never uttered to any man, “I love you.”
God I was stupid. A young stupid girl who’d fallen in love. And do you think for one minute he’d return the sentiment? No.
He held me in his arms. “That was wonderful.”
Then he proceeded to bend me over the desk for round two. It was just a little too much, all that length and size, but I could take it. He pounded me silly till I came again and again as he bit me on the back of the shoulder and then released again, all the way up inside me.
I’d long since become used to him coming inside me, unprotected sex. Vampires are sterile and they cannot get or carry STDs. Enrique could screw me till sunrise, make cream pies all night long, and never get me pregnant. He was the epitome of safe sex, a sterile, squeaky clean lover.
I knew he didn’t love me, but he cared, and he’s considerate. I’m stuck with him either way. I guess it didn’t matter because I was happier than I ever thought I could be.
So it worked out after all. This whole bloodslave thing wasn’t so bad. I had a man who cared for me, treated me with respect. I had a real career, an office, and a business wardrobe. I started taking online classes – intercultural etiquette. I began attending meetings regularly with Enrique. Sometimes I played the eye candy role in a low cut revealing evening dress, hanging on his arm at a high-class lounge or restaurant. At other times I would dress in Armani charcoal gray suits to sit in on office meetings with a notepad and simply observe everything and everyone.