The Blue Link (RUSH, Inc. Book 1)

by Carol Caiton

  Generally he avoided her, which wasn't difficult. Elliott's office, and hers as well, was located at the opposite end of the building from his own, right around the corner from the conference room. On those occasions when their paths did cross it was usually out in Reception. A curt nod fulfilled the requirements of common courtesy. But if he had reason to linger in her vicinity, he leveled an intimidating stare at her until she scurried off. Ethan might enjoy stretching the rules with his smiles and charm, but Simon preferred to keep things uncomplicated. Thus, he didn't appreciate the fact that he found Hannah interesting. He didn't like the fact that she dazzled him with her flashy style and oddly paired articles of clothing that shouldn't work. And dealing with his body's response after a few seconds in her company was both uncomfortable and irritating.

  Presently, however, after having his ego shredded in front of an audience, he had no trouble ogling her curves as a well-earned reward. He took advantage of the fact that all eyes were focused on her, waiting for her answer, and furtively lowered his lids to gaze at a pair of luscious breasts. She would overflow his palms and he wasn't a small man.

  Not for the first time, he wondered why the linking system had never paired him with her. She was everything he found desirable in a woman. Evidence of that was already stirring a familiar tension behind his zipper.

  Mentally he shook his head. Then he dropped his gaze, taking in the form-fitting dress she wore. It was a sort of Hawaiian wrap-around with splashes of deep blue and purple flowers on white silk. And the shoes of the day? A pair of purple, sky-high heels that sported a Mohawk of matching purple fringe. It stood straight out for about an inch and ran from the top of her ankle all the way down to the tip of that killer heel. Christ.

  "Nearly all the daytime jobs at RUSH are full-time positions," she began, ignoring Simon and keeping her eyes on Malcolm. "But if we offered part-time jobs instead, maybe hired extra floaters to accommodate flexible shifts, I'm pretty sure we'd attract a lot of college students."

  That got Simon's full attention. Snapping his eyes to her face, he kept them there as she continued.

  "All of the students on campus talk about RUSH," she said. "Everyone speculates. A lot of the guys intend to stay in Orlando and apply for membership when they graduate and find jobs. And several girls I know would love to work here because membership comes free with the job. But a full-time position doesn't work well with a full-time course load. During those days with only one or two classes, though . . . ." She gave a small shrug. "It works for me because I only have two evening classes per semester."

  Several seconds passed. Then Malcolm cleared his throat. "Thank you, Hannah."

  She nodded and smiled. Then she backed out into the corridor and pulled the door closed.

  Malcolm looked around the table. Everyone looked back. A moment later he began barking out orders.

  "Iris, I want to see the benefit package we offer our part-time employees along with a draft of two other possibilities that would appeal to college students. Let's make this as attractive as possible without bankrupting the company."

  Iris began scribbling on her tablet.

  "Rita, put together a list of the new job openings we're about to post and give us your recommendations as to which ones can be split into part-time positions. Include the Moon Orchid Spa in those numbers as well since we'll be hiring on over there next.

  "Oliver, meet with Rita and Iris and give us an estimated projection of the drain on our resources before there's an upswing."

  His attention shifted back to the other side of the table. "Rita, make sure Elliott gets a copy of those numbers so he can check them against OSHA regulations. And Elliott, we'll need to know as soon as possible if further expansion is in our future, so check on that other piece of property we've been talking about."

  Rapid-fire, his instructions went around the table. He scarcely finished with one department before moving on to the next, outlining the process involved to incorporate this one change.

  Finishing up, he focused again on Personnel. "Rita, while you're working on the new-hire positions, have Quinn put together a list of all the full-time jobs presently filled by female employees. I'd like you to sort through those as well. See which ones can be broken down to part-time—excluding management and administration. Later, whenever one of those employees leaves RUSH for other pursuits, we'll replace her with two or more applicants.

  "Everyone, listen up," he said over the excited murmur of conversation. "We're looking to hire double or triple the number of employees we were planning on thirty minutes ago and eventually, this has the potential to double or triple our total number of women. I want a brief summary from each of you on my desk by Monday afternoon. Tell me how such an expansion will affect your departments. Member Services, you'll be the first to feel the impact." His voice rose above the others. "Let Vanessa or Quinn know how many floaters you'll need to help with the application process." He set his pen down on the table, sat back, and said, "That's it for this morning."

  With those words the energy level soared. Simon watched as each of their managers pushed away from the table with new enthusiasm, filing out of the conference room in an onrush of discussion. If this worked out, champagne corks would be popping. And Hannah Breckenridge would be looking at one hell of a bonus in her paycheck.

  Malcolm rested his elbows on the arms of his chair. He met Mason's eyes. Then Michael's. This was going to change things. They all knew it.

  In a very male moment, smiles of smug satisfaction reflected off each face. Then Michael slapped one large palm onto the teak table, grinned his surfer grin, and growled, "Yesss!"

  CHAPTER 5

  "Have you finished packing?"

  Nina looked up from tying her shoe to find her sister's wheelchair blocking the bedroom doorway. Immediately she looked above Lydia's head to the hall beyond.

  "It's okay," Lydia said. "They're out in the backyard. And the sliding door scrapes against the track with enough noise to wake the neighbors."

  Nina met her sister's eyes and nodded. There was a time when their father would have had the old door replaced with something new. Something nicer. But that time was in the past, almost beyond memory now. These days, when stepping out to the backyard involved a tug of war with the door, then squeezing through the narrow opening, he'd sigh and spray an all-purpose lubricant along the track so the door was operable again. Until the next time.

  Reassured of their privacy, Nina went back to tying her sneaker. "I've packed as much as I can without making Mom suspicious." She nodded toward the closet. "Everything I'm taking is stuffed into about fifty Wal-Mart bags and two small boxes. Hopefully, when the people at RUSH see me moving in, they'll just think I did a lot of shopping."

  "Fifty?"

  Nina frowned. "Well, maybe thirty."

  "Are you nervous?"

  "What a question. You know I am." But nervous didn't begin to cover all that she felt. She was teetering on the brink of anxiety, scared out of her mind, excited beyond anything she had ever imagined, and guilt-ridden to the point of suffocation. The guilt she tried to ignore because dwelling on that would bring everything tumbling to a disastrous end.

  She finished making a bow and lowered her foot to the floor. "I've been going back and forth between nerves and excitement for the past two weeks. Now, I'd just like to get on with it. Know what I mean?"

  Lydia nodded. "I've been worried, too, wondering if Mom would figure it out. She looks at you with a funny expression sometimes, like she knows something's different, but she can't put her finger on it. You do know I'm living this entire experience through you."

  "Then you're going to have a pretty uneventful life. I told you I'm not supposed to talk about RUSH with anyone who isn't a member. They could probably sue me—not that I have any assets."

  Lydia ignored that. "Let me see your pictures again."

  Sighing, Nina slid off the bed and reached between the mattress and box spring for the folder she kept hidden
there. "I should be embarrassed, showing nude photos of myself to my sister."

  Lydia reached for the folder and opened it across her lap. A smile curved her lips, softening her face. "You look so beautiful."

  Beautiful? Lydia had always been the prettier of the two. Lydia had dark, almond-shaped eyes while Nina's were muddy-brown and ordinary. Lydia's hair was short and stylish, but Nina had to wear hers long so the weight of it would stop it from curling every which way. And Lydia was curvy—naturally so. Her figure had always been feminine and balanced. But now Nina's was too.

  She smiled. "I look at those pictures every night and I still can't believe it's me." She backed up against the wall beside Lydia's wheelchair and looked over her sister's shoulder. "I used to be so disproportionate. Now, with my breasts enhanced, it's like everything fits. Look at that." She leaned over to trace a finger along the curve from underarm to thigh. "I've got a waist now. I mean, I had a waist before, but it sure never looked like that."

  Lydia nudged her hand away and went on to the next photo. "You look so . . . voluptuous."

  Heat rushed into Nina's face and she changed the subject. "Did I tell you the woman who styled my hair charges two hundred twenty dollars an hour? I thought only doctors and lawyers robbed you like that."

  Lydia looked up. "No, you didn't tell me about that."

  "Well, at least I didn't have to pay for it. But can you imagine? Two hundred and twenty dollars an hour to have your hair done. When I stared at her as though she was out of her mind, she turned all starchy and told me she was a specialist. So what do you think distinguishes a specialist from a stylist at a strip mall?"

  Lydia ran her fingers over the image of frothy dark waves in the photo. "This."

  Nina plopped back onto the bed. "You're right. Who knew I could look like that? I hated stopping on the way home to pull my hair back into a ponytail. It was sort of like being caught up in a Cinderella fantasy and then watching myself change back into dowdy Nina Millering."

  "Except you aren't—dowdy, I mean. You glowed that day."

  "That was the facial."

  "No. You're different now. You've been different for a while. I think it started while you were having your breasts done . . . after the first couple of injections. But there was a new sparkle when you came back from that photo shoot. It was the sort of sparkle people have when they know they look good. Mom stared at you so hard over dinner that night, I thought for sure she'd see all the changes."

  "I remember. I thought my heart was going to jump out of my chest."

  "Then she asked how long you'd been tweezing your eyebrows."

  Nina and Lydia looked at one another and started laughing. "I'm still amazed I haven't been found out."

  "Me, too. Your breasts are pretty hard to miss now."

  Nina fingered the bulky sweatshirt she wore. "It hasn't been easy hiding them. I hide out in here whenever Mom's home. Or I have to be conscious of them all the time and slouch my shoulders. A big man-sized sweatshirt helps though."

  "It's a good thing we've had chilly weather this year."

  Nina slid her hands up to palm her breasts. "They're so . . . big, Lyd. And heavy. I didn't know they'd be so heavy."

  "God, I'm envious!"

  "Oh, Lyd—" Nina let her hands fall away.

  "Stop it, Nina. Not in a bad way, so just stop."

  It wasn't that simple, though. It would never be that simple.

  Lydia took one more look at the photos, closed the folder, and sighed. "We've talked about this so many times. Don't make me live with the guilt anymore."

  Nina shook her head and started to argue, but Lydia stretched out an arm and reached for her hand. "Don't. You've paid, I've paid, and now I just want . . . . I want you to go have a life so I can get on with mine. It's time, okay?" She picked up the folder with her other hand and held it out. Then she squeezed Nina's fingers and let go.

  With a sigh Nina took the folder, stood up, and slid it back between the mattresses. "You'll let me know when Mom and Dad have calmed down?"

  "Yes. But call me tomorrow after you're settled in so I'll know you're okay. I'll put my phone on vibrate so they don't hear it ring."

  Nina nodded. She wasn't looking forward to telling her parents she was moving out, and she especially didn't want to tell them where she was going. She'd imagined a variety of reactions from them and none were good.

  "Nina."

  She looked up.

  "Go enjoy yourself, will you? Get crazy for a while. And when you've had enough fun and you're ready to settle down, find a good man and marry him."

  Nina smiled. What the heck could she say to that? "I love you, Lyd."

  "I love you, too. And I'm counting on you to forget about all this for a while." She swept out a hand. "You have to."

  Again, easier said than done.

  Had circumstances been different, Lydia was the one who would have jumped at the chance to get crazy for a while. As soon as RUSH, Inc. had opened its gates for business, Lydia would have been first in line to apply for membership, no urging required.

  "You aren't having doubts about the place, are you?" her sister asked.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well I know it's been in the news lately. But you can't believe everything they're reporting. So much of it's just speculation—other than the people out on I-Drive protesting, I mean."

  "No, no second thoughts. Not about that, anyway. I actually feel pretty safe while I'm there."

  In fact, she could hardly turn a corner without seeing one of RUSH's security guards. As well, she'd been told there were cameras mounted throughout the property, excepting the restrooms and those areas designated for encounters. She'd have her own apartment in a self-contained annex that was off limits to the rest of RUSH's clients, and she could come and go as she pleased.

  "No," she said again. "I'm not worried about my safety. Besides, the police would have closed RUSH down a long time ago if there had been any hint of something illegal. There's no sex for sale . . . I picked out the membership package I wanted, and now I'll start paying fees for the linking system to match me with compatible partners."

  Lydia watched her for a long minute then nodded. "Okay. So when do you start modeling for Intimate Underthings?"

  "As soon as the scar heals."

  "What scar?"

  "From the security chip, remember? They're going to implant it in my wrist first thing tomorrow."

  "I didn't realize you'd have a scar."

  "Bad choice of words." Nina lifted one knee and wrapped her arms around it. Immediately she became aware of her breasts pressing against it. Ironically, they often got in the way, but that was because she wasn't used to having them. "I shouldn't have called it a scar. It'll just be a small incision, but they said it would show up on camera."

  "You know," Lydia said, "it would go a lot easier if you told Mom and Dad that you were moving in with a friend from work."

  Nina gave a short laugh. "I actually thought of that. But it wouldn't work. You know Dad. He'd want to help me move so he could check out my new address." She released her leg, sighed, and flopped back on the bed. "I can't tell them I don't want them to know where I'm going to live. I'd end up telling lies on top of more lies, and I'm really not good at that." She made a face at the ceiling. "I'd rather just get it over with and wait for them to calm down."

  She slept badly that night. It wasn't excitement or nervous tension that woke her at odd intervals, though. It was the grim prospect of facing her parents.

  At twenty-two she was the baby of the family and the child of conservative parents who had raised her with a firm hand. Lydia would use a different adjective to describe their parents—something like rigid, old-fashioned, or strict.

  Lydia was nearly four years older than Nina. As the oldest child it had been up to her to pave the way. The problem was, Lydia had been born with a wild streak that matured and grew right along with her age and newfound abilities. Instead of avoiding uncertainty or
frightening situations, Lydia created those situations, then fought anyone who tried to rescue her or steer her in another direction.

  Nina had had a front-row seat from birth, watching her sister in action, then observing the consequences of those daring adventures. She'd learned early the difference between acceptable and unacceptable behavior and she'd never been tempted to test the waters because she already knew the consequences. As a result, Nina had been the good-natured, obedient child. She'd grown up to become a responsible teenager and later, a conscientious adult with a firmly rooted sense of duty that pretty much guided her life.

  Until now. Until this one, perfectly radical, uncharacteristic leap across the line that probably cancelled out all those years of good behavior. Because this was a big leap. A giant leap.

  For six months she'd been planning to move out. Six whole months. Yet she hadn't told her parents. Instead, she wasn't going to say anything until the last minute, even knowing the hardship it would cause them. She'd waited because she knew herself well enough to know they would talk her out of it and she couldn't let that happen. She was moving out as much for her sister as she was for herself. At least it started out that way. Because Lydia was sick of eating sacrificial Nina every day of her life.

  She'd shouted those words at Nina in a burst of anger. It was an anger filled with such a depth of emotion, Nina knew her sister had buried it for a long, long time.

  The decision to leave hadn't been made overnight, however. It had been gradual . . . a slow sort of easing into the thought of it, with Lydia's prompting, of course. Then Nina would catch herself wondering what it would be like. She'd daydreamed a variety of scenarios until eventually, it became a quiet yearning to break free, to discover life beyond the rules of living under her parents' roof.

  Yes, there had been times when she'd wanted to abandon the whole idea, but by then she'd been committed. Not because of a membership contract—not yet—but financially. She'd begun receiving injections to enhance the size of her breasts. She'd grown up with a child's chest. Her breasts had stopped developing at the age of twelve and ten years later she could still only fill a training bra. Then, watching the gradual swell and experiencing the surprising, exhilarating boost to her pride and self-confidence, she didn't want to deny herself this one horrendously selfish act. So Lydia's encouragement hadn't been the only force at work.