Michael Williamson: When Diplomacy Fails…

Aramis Anderson had a life most men his age would kill for, and he knew it. That didn’t make it easier to juggle.

In the recent past, he’d been contracted to protect Caron Prescot, heiress and now, tragically, the richest person in the universe, who personally owned a controlling interest in an entire star system of mineral wealth and the intellectual property on all modern space mining gear.

It was impossible for her to have a normal life. As a rebellious young principal, denied any real social interaction, she’d drunkenly propositioned him while he was on duty alone. Against every fiber of his hormones he’d refused, and been the ultimate professional. He’d helped her sprawl into bed, folded her clothes, and sat on the couch until his relief showed up.

Any typical relationship she might have would be tainted by distrust. She had trillions of dollars of personal wealth, substantial industrial knowledge worth stealing, and of course, there were major bragging rights to bagging her. She knew for certain she could trust him, that he wasn’t after the money, and not an industrial spy. He was also a very effective bodyguard, even if not contracted to her, and she found him “decently attractive.” By turning her down when she was stressed and drunk, he’d won gentleman points. All he had to do now was keep it than.

There were unspoken but ironclad rules to their relationship. Eventually, he thought yhose rules might cause it to fail. For now, they added tension.

First, he could never, ever tell even his closest friends, “I’m banging the trillionaire.” It would be disastrous for his career to be identified, because the public perception would be that he’d used his contracted position to go after her. The company wouldn’t risk it, nor would any future employers. Career ending mistake. If he said such a thing publicly, Caron would believe she was just a prize to him, as she was to everyone else. Relationship ending mistake.

When out with her, he wore a suit and shades like her current security detail. He was just part of the entourage as far as anyone with a camera was concerned. The same rule applied when he was outside on her mansion grounds. No one must identify him.

To that end, he appreciated his own company’s professionalism. The current security detail knew who he was, of course, as did Caron’s own staff, and neither would ever comment.

Nor could he ask for money. That wasn’t really a problem. His income was quite impressive for what he did. She treated him to numerous meals and events and occasional gifts. He was grateful once per treat, and appreciative on the rare occasions she asked if he was happy. He didn’t make a big deal out of it, and that kept things safe in that arena.

He understood he was with her at her sufferance. She ran, and owned, the largest corporation in history. When she was busy, he stayed out of the way. He was part of her life, she not part of his. His job was to provide her release, whether she wanted to bitch and scream, drink and have her back rubbed, go out for dinner, or have screaming, orgiastic sex.

Most men might think they’d kill for such a deal, but it was work. Challenging and rewarding work, but very much work, beyond that of a normal relationship. He was part friend, part assistant and part gigolo. If he tired of that, he could leave. For now, he thought he could handle it.

The only part he really had trouble with was the stress relief. Sex he was fine with, and quite a few variations. However, sometimes she wanted someone to consensually abuse. That wasn’t particularly his thing, but if it involved her, he wasn’t un willing. He could handle quite a bit without suffering.

Sometimes, though, she wanted to be the one abused. Nothing life threatening, but she liked being forced, choked, bruised. He’d had to do some reading on that subject to wrap his brain around it. A person with a lot of responsibilities might like to create a fantasy of being utterly controlled, to de-stress. The ironic counterpoint was that she dictated how it was to happen, so she was still very much in control. It was merely fantasy, but it kept her sane. He just had a hell of a hard time choking or causing pain even when he knew she wanted, craved, needed it. It was worse that she was a devastating actress who really got into the role, and he had to constantly remind himself she had safewords if he went too far, except she insisted he was just starting to get to where she really got the release she needed. Then, of course, his comrades on contract as her current security detail knew most of the details and monitored that, for her safety. He knew intellectually they’d never share that information in public, but he was now in the position he’d had her in last year, of being repressed by the presence of bodyguards.

The rules. They’d actually had to discuss the intimate details with the Agent In Charge. She had to tell them ahead of time she would be engaging in that kind of activity, so they’d know it wasn’t a threat. They got more details than he did, and other safewords or unsafewords, because it just might turn out to be an assassination attempt. Then there were the cameras. It was like being a fucking porn star.

With all that, it was still worth it. She was a hell of a woman in every way, and he still felt sorry for her, because her wealth, looks and brilliance were a prison she could never escape from. He just hoped they could remain friends regardless of what turns life took.

Which bemused him that he was actually becoming a gentleman, not just faking it.

Well, sort of. He wasn’t Caron’s full time, and he made a point not to lurk too much. He had his own place, his own bills, and sometimes dates. Like Ayisha. And if he intended to go out with her this weekend, he should be thinking about her, and that. Then he needed to get in some exercise to keep his fitness up.

When his phone chirped, he wasn’t too surprised to see Alex on screen, but even more than usual it caused him to tense up. It was hard not to feel guilty when one was in fact guilty.

Alex asked at once, “Are you being discreet?”

That caused a flush. Had something come out?

“As discreet as I can be.”

“Then are you available for assignment?”

Damn. Work called. Still, disappointing as it was, he did enjoy his job, and that’s what paid the bills. Being a kept man could only be a hobby.

“I am. Do I have transport?”

“You do now. Monday at oh six hundred.”

He glanced at the itinerary that flashed on one side of the screen. He’d meet most of them in orbit. Where was Jason? Oh, right. And Cady was along again. Just like old times.

“I’ll be there,” he said.

“Later.”

He closed the screen but kept the hush field on. He brought another other screen up.

To Caron’s inquisitive look he said, “Work calls. Scheduling trouble, too.”

“So you can’t make it next week,” she said. She sounded understanding, but a bit disappointed and frustrated.

“Right.”

“Well, what about the weekend? I can clear a couple of things.”

Clearing a couple of things would probably cost her several million dollars, and she could easily make that decision. He always kept that in mind. It was even more complicated this time.

“I don’t know. I’ll have to try.”

“Is there a problem?”

“No, I’ll have to adjust my schedule. I knew something was coming, but I figured on having that extra week. I actually had something planned this weekend.”

“Family?”

“Uh, no. A girl, actually.” He wasn’t sure if he should discuss it, but he tried to be scrupulously honest with her.

“Oh. There’s plenty of room. Bring her along and we’ll find a place for her.”

“Oookay,” he agreed. He thought Caron liked keeping a low profile. She was apparently willing to trust his judgment. Still, no reason she shouldn’t, after…