Chapter 3
3
On my fifth day as Gabriel’s partner, he attends his first weekly council meeting.
All the administrators meet with the president every Monday morning at ten to go over news, updates, revised policy, and upcoming initiatives. It’s held in the main conference room in the palace, which means it’s not private and I get to attend.
Maybe a three- or four-hour meeting on a Monday morning doesn’t sound exciting to most people, but I’m thrilled. It’s better than amusing myself while Gabriel works, and I’m interested in getting a sense of President Vincent and the other administrators and hearing about what’s going on in the Central Cities.
Gabriel wakes up early as always and swims for two hours before showering and dressing. Then he works at his desk for a while before we leave. We walk up several stories of the administrative tower—the tallest structure in the entire Capital—and find the conference room.
It’s bigger than I imagined. Large polished tables are arranged in a rectangle with fancy chairs for the sixty-some palace administrators. The table at the head of the rectangle is higher than the others and only has one seat. That’s obviously where the president sits, although he hasn’t arrived yet.
Gabriel and I get to the room two minutes before ten, so most of the others are already there. There are nameplates identifying each seat, so I follow Gabriel around the room until he finds his assigned seat in the middle of the right-hand side.
Behind the chairs are large, plush lounge cushions on the floor against the walls. I immediately understand their purpose and step over and lower myself to the empty one behind Gabriel’s seat.
Other partners are already in position on their cushions. Most of them I don’t know since they were partnered up before I entered the selection group, but I give Kyra a little wave from across the room and a smile to Benji, who got chosen by the administrator hired just before Gabriel and is seated right beside me.
Gabriel has taken his seat, but he gives a couple of quick glances over his shoulder as if my presence is making him uncomfortable. It’s probably not me. It’s the whole setup. He undoubtedly believes the position of the partners on their cushions on the floor is somehow demeaning or trashy.
He hasn’t even been in the Capital a whole week. Surely he’ll get used to it eventually.
I’m pleased when the older woman seated beside him starts to chat with him. I check out her nameplate and discover she’s the Director of Farms. She’s the administrator who chose Benji as a partner, so she’s fairly new to the palace herself.
I can still see a faint aura of impatience in Gabriel’s manner, but he responds to the woman in a polite, intelligent way, so at least he’s not completely devoid of courtesy and diplomacy.
I want people to like and respect him, so he needs to step it up a bit from his normal brusque professionalism.
The butler hits the floor with his staff three times to indicate the arrival of the president. Administrators all stand. Their partners don’t.
I’m watching wide-eyed as President Vincent walks in and casually waves everyone back into their seats. He’s an attractive man in his mid-fifties with dark hair, a full beard, and an appealing smile.
He has three partners—two women and a man—and they take their seat on the fancy cushions behind him.
Forty-five years ago, the world collapsed into chaos and violence after the Fall. Back then, the Capital was just another broken city, but a military leader eventually took control, restoring order, providing food and safety, rebuilding infrastructure, and using a growing army to enforce obedience. He eventually unified all the cities in this region under his government, establishing the Central Cities as one state.
That leader was President Patterson. He did a lot of good for a lot of people, but life under him was bleak and barren. Oppressive. He set up a system of indentured servitude for those who had nothing else to offer to society, and that system led to all kinds of abuses. I only lived six years under President Patterson, so I don’t remember much, but everyone testifies to how hard life was before. My dad and my grandfather were both indentured servants. Neither one will talk about it even now.
But fifteen years ago, Vincent led a military research team that created a highly efficient solar-charge battery. The technology was so sophisticated and had uses so wide-ranging that it immediately obliterated our reliance on whatever fossil fuels remained after the Fall. One small battery can power a vehicle. A larger one can power an entire home. It changed life in the Central Cities overnight, and a year later President Vincent had taken control of the military and challenged Patterson for the presidency.
There was an election, which President Vincent won by a landslide, and because Vincent had the military on his side, Patterson had no platform for disputing the results. He died of a stroke a few weeks later anyway.
Ever since, life in the Central Cities has been transformed. Pleasure and entertainment have returned. Indentured servitude was abolished. Laborers get one day off a week. Everything is better and softer and safer, and the palace’s partner system is an important symbol of that transformation.
Surely Gabriel will see that soon.
The meeting begins with some remarks from the president. Then each administrator gives a report with updates from their department for the week. Gabriel introduces himself when it’s his turn and gives a few sentences about the project he’s been given.
It’s the first time I actually learn what he’s working on. He’s been tasked with putting a plan together to redo the entire banking and identification system in the Central Cities, and he has a year to complete it. I had no idea his role was so huge.
No wonder he’s constantly stressed with work.
About an hour after the meeting starts, waitstaff begin bringing in a fancy brunch. They fill administrators’ glasses with juice and wine, and they place large trays of chicken, ham, potatoes, vegetables, and fruit on the tables.
The food and drink are entirely ignored until President Vincent announces a half-hour break for the meal.
Most of the administrators prepare their own plates as they chat with each other. Stella, the woman beside Gabriel, is clearly a considerate person, and she makes up a small plate for Benji, getting up to hand it to him before she begins eating herself.
Gabriel has been talking to the portly man beside him as he eats, but after a few minutes I see him looking over at Stella, then glancing back at Benji, who is happily eating his meal. He gives me a few questioning looks and peers around the room at what everyone else is doing.
I know exactly what all those looks mean. He’s piecing together the expectation that partners can only eat if they’re given food.
When he turns his head in my direction again, I give a very discreet nod toward the small empty plate beside his. He picks it up, places a few pieces of ham and potato on it, and turns back toward me. I nod again, still trying to be inconspicuous so we don’t advertise the fact that Gabriel has absolutely no idea what he’s doing.
He understands now. He fills my small plate with way more food than I ever would have expected, including half the chicken breast and even one of the slices of pineapple.
He’s still making a pretense of chatting with the man beside him, but I see him frowning down at his utensils. He picks up his smaller fruit fork and slants me a quick look.
I give my head a quick shake and incline it toward Benji, who is eating with his hands.
I see the recognition on Gabriel’s face. He’s annoyed again by our practices. But he efficiently cuts the larger chunks of chicken into bite-sized pieces before he excuses himself from the conversation and gets up to hand me the plate.
Beaming at him in sincere gratitude, I accept the food, trying not to feel too proud of myself for having a partner who treats me so generously.
The reason Gabriel treats me this well is ignorance rather than genuine appreciation for what I do for him.
No one else knows that, however. The other partners all notice I’ve been given a full plate of food—including all the best stuff—when most of them haven’t gotten anything yet.
Twenty minutes later, the meeting resumes, and I listen with interest to all of it. None of it bores me, not even when a couple of the long-standing administrators drone on about how the labor class is becoming too entitled and recalcitrant and more control needs to be exerted.
It’s been nearly four hours when the meeting is finally dismissed. Unlike me, Gabriel has been getting increasingly impatient as the time passed. He’s been doing a lot of that frustrated head-rubbing.
His expression is relieved when we’re dismissed. He wastes no time chatting or hanging around afterward and makes such a quick retreat out of the room that I’m forced to jog several steps to catch up to him.
He goes to the bathroom and then immediately plants himself at his desk. I’m stimulated after the meeting and don’t feel like lying around idly in my window nook, but that’s not my choice to make. So I attempt to settle my mind as I get out my sketchbook.
I work on another sketch of Gabriel because he’s not paying any attention to me.
Things go as normal for a couple of hours until he gradually grows more and more restless. It starts with him occasionally glancing up to stare out the window. Then he shifts in his chair as if he can’t get comfortable. Then he rubs at his head in that frustrated way.
Something is definitely bothering him.
He’s staring down at a blank spot on his desk and running his fingertips along the curve of his skull when he actually gives a soft groan.
And that’s it. I can’t stand it anymore.
“Is there anything I can do for you?”
He blinks over at me. “What?”
“Is there anything I can do for you? It looks like something is bothering you this afternoon. I’d like to help if I can.”
“Oh. Yeah, no. It’s nothing. Just can’t focus today.”
“That’s something I can help with.”
His dark eyebrows pull together in a frown. “How can you help me focus?”
“It’s one of the reasons I’m here. If you’ll let me tend to you, you’ll get the release you need to relax and refocus.”
Something changes on his face, but I can’t pinpoint what it is. His tone is as dry as ever when he asks, “You really think that’s going to do it?”
“Yes, I do.” I’m getting excited but trying not to show it on my face or in my voice. “You’ve done nothing but work and sleep and swim for five days. You need to relax, and I can help you do it.”
“I’ve got too much work to do to spend all afternoon relaxing.”
“It doesn’t have to take long. I can handle it quickly. In ten minutes even.”
He stares at me for several seconds, and I wonder if he’s actually considering it.
Maybe he’ll finally let me do my job.
“Ten minutes?” he asks at last.
“Yes. I believe I can take care of matters in that amount of time.” I’m purposefully avoiding any clear reference to sex since that obviously makes him uncomfortable. He likes business, so we can treat this like business too. “It’s obviously your choice. There are social expectations of course, but there’s no pressure about what I do privately as your partner. But I believe I can improve your productivity. I can help you relax and renew your focus. Like I said, it’s up to you, but if I had my preferences, you would allow me to do that.”
There. That sounded pretty good. Quiet and composed and polite while still conveying the point I need to make.
And there’s a new expression twisting on his face. I don’t know him well enough yet to be certain, but I wonder if it might be temptation.
Like he wants to but isn’t sure he should.
“Let me think about it,” he says at last. “I hear what you’re saying, but let me think about it.”
“Of course.” I smile at him and move my sketchbook back onto my lap. “I’ll be here.”
It’s less than an hour of restless, frustrated attempts to work and increasingly frequent looks over at me when Gabriel finally blurts out, “You’re sure you want to?”
I straighten up in surprise, setting down my pen and notebook as my heart jumps in excitement. “Yes. I want to. Why would I lie?”
“Okay.”
I blink. “Okay?”
“Ten minutes.”
I stand up, having to exert some effort not to dance a little victory jig. I can’t believe he finally relented from his irrational stubbornness about this.
It’s actually a lot of pressure to get an uptight workaholic to a satisfying physical release in only ten minutes, but I’m sure I can manage it. I’m not going to fail in my one chance to prove what I can do for him.
He’s pushed his chair out from his desk, and he’s staring at me as I approach. “Should I…” He nods toward the bed.
I shake my head. “You can stay in your chair.”
He’s completely motionless now, his eyes moving from my face, down my body, and then up again.
There’s nothing overtly lustful in the look, but it makes my pulse throb anyway.
He’s so tense and stiff that I glance at the clock to mark the time and decide to take three minutes to try to loosen him up first. I move around to his back and start massaging his shoulders. His muscles are ridiculously tight, and it takes a lot of pressure to get them to soften even slightly.
His breathing deepens as I work on him. He closes his eyes when I move my hands to his neck, gently moving his hair so I can knead the nape beneath it.
When I find a particularly knotty area at the base of his neck and push into it hard, he lets out a raspy exhale that’s almost a groan.
My heart and every pulse point are throbbing excitedly at these small signs of response from him. I keep up the massage for three minutes. Then I unbutton the top few buttons of my bodice to reveal more cleavage and move back around to the front of his chair.
His eyes open as I stand before him. He stares in that same intent way. I wish I knew him better so I could interpret exactly what it means. His cheeks, however, flush visibly as I kneel on the floor in front of him, gently spreading his knees to make room for my body between his thighs.
He’s holding on to the armrests and still staring when I reach for the top button of his trousers. They’re made of soft, thick material and expensively tailored in the most recent style with four buttons to fasten them instead of a zipper.
I hear his breath hitch as I undo the other buttons quickly and move his underwear out of the way so I can pull out his cock.
He’s half aroused already, which is a deep relief. He’s got to be at least forty, and some men his age take a while to get going.
I have less than seven minutes left.
He shifts in his chair, edging closer to the front of the seat, which makes it easier for me to lift his penis into a convenient position. I stroke him a few times with my fingertips, pleased when he continues to harden at the light touch.
I glance up at his face and see that he’s still gazing down at me, breathing heavily and gripping the armrests. He’s more flushed than ever now, but he gives the slightest of nods.
I take the gesture for permission. I adjust myself on my knees and lean forward to slide my lips around the tip of his cock. I suck a few times and angle my eyes up to check his face.
He’s closed his eyes again. His lips are parted. He makes a very soft sound in his throat as he hardens the rest of the way in my mouth.
That’s faster than I hoped for. I let him slide out, reposition my lips to block my teeth, and then take him down again, deeper this time.
His whole body twitches. When I check his expression, he’s opened his eyes.
The look isn’t lustful in any way I’ve understood before, but it’s something. He doesn’t look away as I establish a rhythm of sucking and bobbing my head.
His cock is a decent size, and it fills my mouth. He swims and bathes every day, so he’s clean, but it’s been hours since he had a shower, and he smells natural. Distinct but not unpleasant. I breathe him in as I work him in my mouth.
His inhales are sharper and faster now. His exhales are louder and thicker. He’s really hanging on to the armrests, and the muscles of his thighs on either side of me are tensing up. I re-angle my neck and take him a little deeper.
“Oh fuck,” he gasps as his hips give a noticeable jerk.
That and a slight shuddering in his cock are enough to give me the sign. I let him slip out of my mouth, wrapping my hand around the base of him and squeezing a few times as I let him ejaculate on my face.
Some guys are weird about having their semen swallowed, and I don’t actually know what he prefers. In my experience, this is the safest bet with men. They often like to get their partners messy.
Gabriel’s face twists with pleasure and relief as he jerks through his climax. He makes almost no sound at all. Nothing more than those wet, raspy breaths. He spurts out more ejaculate than I expect. It’s all over my face by the time he falls back against his chair, his body warmer and softer than before.
I wipe my right eye to clear it as I carefully tuck him back into his underwear and trousers and refasten the buttons. I’ve got a minute and a half left, so I stand up and move behind him again so I can massage his shoulders with the remaining time.
He’s definitely more relaxed now. His breathing gradually slows down. His eyes are closed.
My body pulses and my cheeks are warm as I finally let my hands drop just as the clock hits the ten-minute mark.
“There,” I say, pleased that I still sound calm and composed. “Ten minutes. How do you feel?”
He opens his eyes as I walk around his chair. He takes a couple more breaths before he says, “Good. Better. That did help.”
“Oh good. I’m glad.”
“So do I… Should I do you now?”
I’m not capable of hiding my surprise. “No! Of course not.”
“Why not? Shouldn’t it be reciprocal?”
“It is reciprocal. You take care of me, and I soften your life. I make you feel good. You’re never responsible for pleasing me physically.”
“But that doesn’t seem fair. Don’t you want… something yourself?”
I shake my head and meet his eyes evenly so he can tell I’m speaking the truth. “No. I don’t. That’s not what being a partner is about.”
His mouth twists briefly before he relaxes it. “Okay. If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
“All right. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. If it helped, we can do it again. Anytime you need a break like that, just let me know.”
“I… I will. Thank you.” He blinks a few times, as if he’s trying to make his brain work again. Then he rubs his face and moves his chair back to his desk.
Since my job is clearly over, I go to the bathroom to wash my hands and face. I settle in my alcove when I return to the room and pull my sketch pad back out.
Gabriel has returned to work, and he seems much more focused than he was before. He’s not so restless and jittery.
I was right. I can help him. In a real way.
He knows it now too, so maybe he’ll let me help him again.