Chapter 6: Dinner night.
Later that night, the city lights painted long streaks across the living room floor. Martha was curled up on the opposite end of the couch, reviewing contracts on her tablet, the blue light casting sharp shadows on her face.
"Martha," I began, breaking the comfortable silence. "How about I invite the new hires for dinner tomorrow?"
Her fingers froze mid-swipe. She slowly lowered the tablet, her expression a mixture of surprise and deep suspicion. "You want to… socialize? With people? Out of your own free will?"
"Well, the employees," I clarified, ignoring her teasing tone. "We just locked them into three-to-four-year contracts. Feels like we should get to know the people we'll be spending the next few years with."
A small, almost imperceptible frown creased her brow. "...Bad idea. Mixing business with pleasure is a recipe for disaster. It blurs the lines of authority." She paused, then gave a slight shrug. "But if you insist, I won't stop you." It was a genuine answer, as always. Martha wasn't the type for the yes-sir, kiss-ass routine; she was the one person who told me when I was about to step on a landmine.
"Good," I said, pushing forward. "Because it's already decided. Put it in the mail. Tomorrow's a holiday, after all. Team dinner at the most expensive place in the city. My treat."
A ghost of a smile touched her lips. "Of course it is." She picked up her phone, her thumbs flying across the screen. "OK, I'll send it now. Seven o'clock sharp." Using our internal AI to draft a formal yet inviting email took her all of thirty seconds.
The silence returned, but it was different now. Heavier. We were at home, just the two of us, the CEO and his razor-sharp right hand.
"Martha," I said, my voice dropping a little. "You want to do the spice thing again?"
She didn't look up from her phone, but I saw the corner of her mouth twitch. "Hmm, nah. Yesterday was…" She trailed off, finally setting the phone down and stretching her legs out with a wince. "My legs are still hurting like shit. I was so… turned on by you. I don't think I'll ever get that much…" She shook her head, a faint blush rising on her cheeks.
"Nevermind. What should we do now?"
My mind, for a moment, went blank. I wasn't a guy who took women out, neither in this life nor the one I vaguely remembered before it. "Well," I managed, "we could play some console games, or… you could take me for a ride." I offered, giving her the choice.
Her eyes lit up with genuine interest. "Hmm, how about a long, short ride."
An hour later, the roar of her engine cut through the cool night air. The city blurred into a river of neon and concrete as Martha leaned into a curve, the motorcycle hugging the asphalt with a hungry growl.
She was a different person on the bike—less the calculated executive, more a force of nature, wild and unrestrained. The wind whipped away the last of the day's formalities, leaving just the thrum of the engine and the shared, silent understanding between us.
"You like it." She asked, there was sarcasm in her voice. "Well, can you feel it?" I responded, my meat stick was hard against her bubble but while my hands were around her athletic waist.
"You are such a honey dog, boi. Your energetic dick loves mommy~" Martha teased with her seductive words which made me more horny.
"Stop making me horny Martha." I muttered in a terrified tone as the bike was speeding at extremely fast speed and my hands were wandering around her tits. "Stop groping me!" She said with a laugh and we spent the whole night messing around.
***
The next evening, I stood at the entrance to "The Gilded Spoon," the kind of place where the valets looked down on you if your car wasn't a limited edition. The maître d' greeted me with a deferential bow. "Mr. Jotaro, your table is ready."
"Excellent. I'm expecting a party of 13-14. They should be arriving any moment." Right on cue, the first of them appeared.
The models—Mary Jane, Gwen, and Felicia—moved through the restaurant like they owned it. Heads turned. They were dressed to kill, a coordinated assault of silk, heels, and confidence that made the other patrons look underdressed.
"Glad you could make it," I said as they reached the table.
"Wouldn't miss it," Mary Jane replied, her smile dazzling. "A chance to see what the boss is like when he's not asking uncomfortable questions? Too good to pass up."
Felicia just gave me a sly look. "Nice place. Let's hope the food is as good as the company's benefits package."
Next came the engineers, Susan Storm and Kitty Pryde. They looked slightly less comfortable in the formal setting, their style more smart-casual than black-tie. They were deep in a technical argument about something called 'quantum entanglement in neural networks' and didn't stop until they were at the table.
"—and that's why the decoherence problem is a non-starter for practical applications!" Kitty was saying as Susan spotted me.
"Evening," Susan said, offering a small, tired smile. "Thanks for the invite. It's… nice to get out of the lab."
The last to arrive was the finance team. Nila, Yuhee, Joo-hee, and Do-hee entered together, a silent, intimidating phalanx. They were dressed in impeccably tailored dresses that probably cost more than the models' outfits showcasing their curves. They didn't so much walk into the room as they did a hostile takeover of it. They surveyed the space with cool, analytical eyes, as if calculating the restaurant's profit margin before they even sat down.
"Mr. Jotato," Nila said with a curt nod. "Thank you for the hospitality."
"The pleasure is mine," I replied, feeling like I was about to begin a very important negotiation. "Please, have a seat."
As they all settled in, a low hum of conversation filled the space between us. The models were chatting with the engineers, the finance team were speaking in quiet Korean, and I realized Martha had been right. This was a terrible, wonderful idea. The lines were already blurring, and we hadn't even ordered drinks yet.
A waiter approached the table, his posture perfect. "Good evening. Can I start you with something to drink?"
Before I could answer, Felicia leaned forward, a mischievous glint in her eye. "We'll need a bottle of your best champagne," she said, her voice carrying just enough to make the table next to us look over. "And a round of Old Fashioneds. For the table."
The waiter's eyes flickered to me for confirmation. I just smiled and gave a slight nod. And then came Jessica and April in a body con dress with irregular cuts having an expensive and sexy appearance.
"You both are late…" I muttered, not impressed. "There was too much traffic around." They passed an excuse which sounded lame. Ignoring it they settle down.