Member 13231

The messenger came while I was eating breakfast the next morning. I went to the door and pulled it open, revealing a smiling young man of about twenty. "Jack Greene?"

"That's me," I shrugged.

"This is for you," he handed over a message box with a clipboard on the top. "Sign on line 48."

I put my signature on the line, catching a brief glimpse of the other names he had delivered to. Most of the names belonged to people I worked with. I handed the clipboard back to him, and he sprinted back to his delivery van. I contemplated the box as I walked into the living room. The return address was that of the plant, meaning that there was nothing but bad news in the box.

I pulled out my pocket knife before I sat down, slicing the top of the box open in three quick cuts. The box held a manila envelope, which

only took one cut to open. The contents of the envelope were stapled together, on top was a cover letter from the owner of the plant.

Jack Greene. You probably are aware of the fire at the plant yesterday, what you are unaware of was the extent of the damage. Despite the design of the fire suppression system and the heroics of the Wavecrest Fire Department, the plant is a total loss.

Don't take this as bad news, Jack. This isn't a termination notice, just a reassignment letter. Our parent company, Scarlett Industries, owns several other facilities in the general vicinity of Wavecrest, and they need some positions filled. You were one of the lucky ones, Jack, not everybody who worked at SRM Fabrication is getting a letter like this.

As a contract employee rather than an hourly employee, you were required to supply your own tools. You filed a list of those tools with the plant office, and we insured them accordingly. You shouldn't have to wait for a check from the insurance company, Jack, you might need them sometime soon.

Enclosed is a check for $14,281 for the loss of your tools. If this amount is not satisfactory, please submit an itemized list to the address on the letterhead, and we'll file the additional amount in our claim.

Attached to this letter is your reassignment request. If you choose not to take the position within ten business days, I will send a severance package to you in fourteen. You may not have expected a severance package, Jack, but I think you earned it. You were one of the best quota welders we ever had.

Sincerely,

Harris Graham.

I flipped through the pages until I found the list. They had all my tools on there, including my welder. What surprised me was the values, until I figured in sales tax, and the cost to travel to replace the tools. I also found my reassignment request, it was a bright yellow sheet of paper, which also had a picture of me stapled to the page.

The address they wanted me to report to was less than fifteen minutes from my house, and it was also a scrap yard where I was going to anyway. I met with some resistance putting the papers back in the envelope, forcing me to pull them back out. There was a sticker at the bottom, which looked something like a parking permit with an RFID tag in it.

I detached the check , putting it and the sticker on the table, the rest of the papers back into the envelope. I leaned back with a sigh. Yesterday, I had lost my job, my girlfriend, and a woman who was pursuing me for some unknown reason. Today, I had fifteen thousand dollars, and a new start, it was almost too much for me.

What should I do? I got up off the sofa and went out to my car. When I got inside, the stale beer smell reminded me of what I was going to do yesterday. A small step with which to begin my day, waste not, want not. I peeled the sticker off and put it on my windshield, then proceeded to stuff all the cans I could in the back seat and passenger seats of the car. The reason I had not done that the previous day was because I was afraid somebody would see the cans and steal them again.

When I was going down the road, I noticed the ominous-looking Suburban again. A couple of turns revealed that it was following me, then it vanished. If there was another vehicle that took its place, I couldn't find it. Twenty-five minutes later, I pulled up to the gate of the salvage yard. A surprised security guard came out to examine the sticker. "You Jack Greene?" he asked.

"That's me," I started to reach for my wallet, but he waved me through the gate. I unloaded my cans at the usual place, and was told to pick up my check at the front office.

I went to the front office and waited patiently for the receptionist to type out my check. They usually didn't make you go to the front office unless you exceeded five hundred dollars worth of metal, so I wondered what I was doing here.

"Mister Morris will see you now, Jack," the receptionist indicated the hallway with her finger. "The door at the end."

"Thanks," I waved to her.

"No problem."

The door was pulled open before I even put my hand on the knob. "Morning, Jack."

"Good morning Mister Morris."

"Call me Hal. Have a seat Jack." Hal pushed the door shut, turning the lock as he did so. Instead of going behind his desk, he took the chair beside me. "I see you brought some aluminum cans in this morning, Jack."

"Sure. I've been saving them for a while."

"Tell me what you know about the price of scrap metals, Jack."

"Not too much. I know that aluminum was fifty-three cents a pound two days ago."

"What I am going to tell you doesn't leave this room, Jack."

"Sure," I shrugged.

Hal reached over to his desk and pulled a sheet of paper off of it.

"Take a look."

I did a quick scan of the numbers on the paper. Thin aluminum retail was fifty-five cents a pound, wholesale was, "Two dollars a pound?"

"Things have been a little unusual in the business the last few months. Scrap metals, especially the metals that are easily re-smelted

are gaining in value faster than the market can support them. Can you imagine what would happen if the public knew what was on that paper?"

I did know what would happen, things made of any salvageable metal would start vanishing overnight. "I'm the public, Hal."

"You're an employee of Scarlett Industries now, Jack."

"I didn't agree to the position yet. What would my position be, anyway?"

"That one," Hal pointed to the chair behind his desk.

"You're joking."

"I'm not," Hal shook his head.

"The company can't expect for some part-time metals welder to take over a major scrap yard, Hal. I'm not stupid."

"Nobody said you were stupid, that's why the people at the top are offering you the job," Hal leaned back in his chair. "You don't remember it, do you?"

"Remember what?" I asked in confusion.

"Five years ago, you were still in college, Jack. You submitted an thesis paper to your solar dynamics professor about a way to remodulate solar energy into microwave energy bursts."

"I'm sorry, Hal. I don't remember much from that time." Five years ago, I had my legs run over by a drunken driver. He had never been caught, so I went through three years of painful rehabilitation without much hope to pay the medical bills.

"Yes, I know. Back to the paper, Jack, you don't remember doing it?"

"Not much of it."

"Let's take a walk, shall we?"

I followed Hal through a corridor. We ended up outside, near the tower that jutted up from the middle of the yard. "What's out here?" I asked.

"Wait for it, Jack."

There was a humming noise in the tower, then a flash of light. "What was that?"

"That was collected solar energy, remodulated to a near microwave frequency. The microwaves are then beamed at the top of the tower, where they are used to superheat the metal conveyed up there, turning it into a molten sludge of sorts. It currently only works with aluminum and its respective alloys, so far. We can't use a higher energy burst in this area, the FCC won't allow it."

The memory unlocked itself when Hal described the process to me. They had taken some half-baked idea and turned it into a working model. "Too bad I didn't get the patent rights on it," I muttered.

"Sorry, Jack," Hal clapped me on the back. "We will try and make it up to you, though."

"How?'

"Eighty-five thousand a year to start. Bonuses if you come up with a good idea for the company or increase productivity in the yard."

"I'm a grunt Hal, not management," I said.

"Give me a week to prove you wrong, Jack," Hal countered.

I was tempted to take his offer. Eighty-five thousand a year might help with a lot of things, like paying the enormous medical bills I still had. "All right, Hal. One week."

"I thought you would see it my way. Let's go back inside, Jack."

When we got back to his office, Hal pointed to the chair behind the desk. "Have a seat, it's the best chair on the market."

"Pardon me asking, but what are you going to do, Hal?"

"Nevada. I am going to be overseeing a larger operation based on the SMR system you came up with."

"SMR?"

"Solar Microwave Remodulation. Take a peek in the folder on the top, Jack."

Inside the folder was a letter from Robson Scarlett, the head of Scarlett Industries. As thanks for coming up with the base theories for the SMR System, Scarlett Industries was paying me a licensing fee based on a patent they had acquired for that system. Robson also apologized

for not paying me sooner, but he had just recently tracked me down, and it was with great surprise that he found me working for him.

"Is this some kind of bribe?"

"Think of it more as restitution, Jack. For years, everybody at the top thought you were dead. The job is real, just because they want to see what you are made of. Not stupid, Jack, remember what you said earlier?"

"And if I refuse the job?"

"The next page is real enough, Jack," Hal shrugged. "There are certain terms you have to agree to if you take the check."

"Like signing away any challenges I might have at the patent? I wouldn't dream of that, but I'm not going to take payment for it either, Hal."

"You what?"

"The patent system in this country was established to help inventors profit from their inventions, Hal. I didn't invent anything, I just

came up with a theory that somebody else made reality." I flipped the letter over to the check, and nearly shit my pants. "What the hell?"

"You were saying something about not taking the check, Jack?" Hal was hiding a smile.

"I can't take this, Hal." I pulled the check out of the folder and slowly ripped it up. "And I won't."

"Are you nuts?" Hal asked.

"Seven hundred thousand dollars for something I didn't even do? Sure, if I won the lottery or something, I would take it, but not this Hal, no." I dropped the shreds onto the desk.

"You've got balls of steel, Jack," Hal chuckled.

"They're the same as any other mans," I chuckled with him. "When do I start?"

"Let's start on Monday, good enough?" Hal asked.

"Monday is good," I got up from the very comfortable chair, shaking Hal's hand before I left the office. On the way out, the receptionist handed me a check for two hundred thirteen dollars for the cans that I had brought in for recycling.

I took that check and the insurance check to the bank , I didn't feel comfortable having that much money on me, about six months' pay. It was out of my way to visit the plant, but I did it anyway. When the letter said it was a total loss, it was an understatement, the building was leveled.

What I didn't understand was what had happened. When the alarm had first went off, it didn't seem like there was much of a problem. A beep from behind reminded me that I was stopped in the middle of the street, so I let my foot off the brake and finished my trip home.

The red Pontiac G6 in my driveway let me know who my visitor was before I even saw her. Julie opened her door at my approach, dressed from head to toe in purple. The sash was gone, letting her long blond hair flow out behind her. When I got out of my car, she rushed to greet me, wrapping her arms around me in a rib-cracking embrace. "Hello, Jack."

"Hello, Julie."

"I heard you got promoted," Julie beamed up at me. "I guess that means you can take me out to dinner now."

I gently pushed her arms down, and took a step away from her. "Where did you hear that?"

"Somebody at the office," Julie shrugged.

"Good news travels fast," I mumbled. "So why are you here?"

"I'm just here to drop off your car. You can't be an executive without a nice flashy sports car," Julie indicated the G6 with her hand.

"That's your car," I protested.

"No, that's my car," Julie pointed to a car creeping up the driveway. "Hold out your hand, Jack."

I held out my hand and Julie dropped a set of keys into it. "The spare set is in the car."

"Why?"

"Because, from what I hear, you earned it," Julie closed my hand with hers. "Say thank you, Jack."

"Thank you, Jack," I said.

"Funny," Julie gave me an appraising look. "What's on your agenda for today?"

"I don't know."

"Why don't you take your new sports car out for a spin?" Julie offered. "I could give you some pointers, providing you want to bring me along."

"What about your car?" I looked at the second G6 that had stopped behind my car.

"If you want to invite Roberta, I am sure that she wouldn't say no," Julie waved at her car, and the driver stepped out. She could have been Julie's twin, except that her hair was jet-black.

She walked up the driveway to where Julie and I were standing. "Hi Jack, I'm Roberta."

"Hi, Roberta. Can I call you Bobbi?"

"You certainly can," Roberta answered with a smile.

"Shall we?" Julie started walking toward 'my' car.

I wasn't sure what to do, or even what was going on, but I was going to go along with it, what else was I going to do? I let Julie and

Roberta into the car, then went around to get into the driver's seat. Julie was fiddling with a control on the dash, and the roof of the car started to move. This car was a hard-top convertible. "That's cool," I slid into the driver's seat.

"It is, isn't it?" Julie beamed at me.

"Buckle in," I started the car up, hearing the rumble of the engine. I put the car into reverse and turned so that I could back out of my driveway between the two cars behind me. I stole a glance at Roberta before I turned around, she looked very comfortable.

After an hour of driving around and getting used to my car, Julie directed me to stop at a mall. Both of them clung to my arms as we walked through, catching some semi-angry glances from the other men I saw. Julie pulled me into a men's clothing store on the pretext of looking

for suits.

I tried a few suits on, Roberta throwing comments at me like 'dashing' and 'handsome.' Then Julie came up with a tailor, who started taking my measurements. I tried to protest, but it didn't work. An hour later, we walked out with four suits slung over my shoulder.

After we were through at the mall, I took both of them out to dinner. I should have expected the effect the wine would have on me, and I knew I couldn't drive us back to my house. Roberta didn't have any alcohol with her dinner, so Julie and I piled into the back seats and Roberta drove us home.

The wine had also removed some of the apprehensions I had previously felt about intimately touching Julie. Our first kiss was tentative, the second was a full-on invasion of her mouth with my tongue.

When my hand first touched her breast, she gasped, and held my hand in place with her hand.

I could have sworn that the ride home took longer than it should have, but I didn't care. I had this angel in my arms, and I didn't want to let her go. When we finally reached my home, Roberta raced up the steps and opened the door so that I could carry Julie into the house. I didn't

stop touching either of them until my body succumbed to sleep.

The next morning I awoke to an empty bed and the smell of coffee. I walked into the bathroom, and took the best piss I could with the early-morning hard-on that I had. "You've got good aim," Roberta chuckled from the doorway.

I turned to face her, my eyes roaming over her naked form. The memory of my hands on her body was crystal clear. "Thank you. I do the best I can."

"Come here, Jack," she cocked a finger at me and started making a beckoning motion with it.

I took a step forward, and she took a step back. We did this until she fell back on the bed. "I would prefer that you stand, Bobbie."

She slid off the bed and stood in front of me. "Why?"

"Turn around."

She turned around, and I pulled her body toward mine, my erection nestling between her butt cheeks. In an unexpected maneuver, she clenched her cheeks around my cock, then relaxed, then clenched them again. I wrapped my arms around her, and she leaned her head back, still alternating the clenching and relaxing of her butt. "You like that?"

"Yes, I do," I stuck my tongue in her ear while I put my hands on her breasts. "You like that?"

Her answer to that was to arch her back slightly, moving forward so that my cock was between her legs. She closed her legs and started moving her hips back and forth. The friction from her movements caused me to ejaculate within a minute, making my knees to buckle a little. Roberta used that moment to turn us around and push me onto the bed. "I like you, Jack."

"I like you too, Roberta."

"Good," she leaned down and gave me a kiss. "Breakfast is ready."

"You didn't have to make me breakfast," I protested.

"I wasn't going to make breakfast for just me." She stood back up and strutted out of the bedroom.

I stayed on the bed for a moment, then got off the bed and went into the kitchen. Julie was at the table, sipping on a cup of coffee. "Good morning, Jack."

"Something like that," I countered. "What's with the naked breakfast here?"

"Not much left of our clothes, Jack," Julie teased. "You were an animal last night."

"I got lucky. You want a repeat, you're going to have to wait a few weeks for me to recharge," I sat down at the table.

Roberta poured me a cup of coffee and joined us. "I don't think that's true. You were very good to both of us last night, Jack."

"I tried my best," I admitted.

"You succeeded," Julie set her cup down and took my hand.

Roberta reached out and took my other hand. "Yes, you did."

"I barely lasted a minute with you this morning, Bobbie."

"That means you will last longer the next time," Roberta squeezed my hand.

I took a deep breath and let it out. "Why me?"

"You shouldn't ask that question, it will only make you doubt yourself," Julie said.

"Okay, how about this question. Where do we go from here?"

"That's a good question, Jack. Why don't you answer it for him, Bobbie?"

"I'd like to stay here," Roberta said.

"What about you?" I looked at Julie.

"As much as I would like to stay here, Jack, I've been reassigned to the home office."

"Where is that at?"

"Los Angeles," Julie admitted. "That won't stop me from coming to visit you as often as I can."

I gripped Julie's hand. "You've been reassigned to Los Angeles, or you are going back to Los Angeles?"

"I should have known you would figure it out, Jack. Before you voice your next thought, they only sent me to check you out, not to sleep with you."

"Why did you, then?" I loosened the grip I had on her hand.

"I guess I fell in love with the idea of you, Jack," Julie shrugged. "Maybe I was trying too hard."

"So you knew about Megan."

"Your file didn't mention a significant other. I was honestly surprised when we pulled into your driveway that day."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" Julie asked.

I told them about the ominous-looking Suburban truck that I thought was following me. Neither of them looked happy to hear about me being followed. "Do you know who they are?"

"It may be a competitor," Julie admitted. "I will have to call the office and let them know. Unfortunately, our cell-phones are still in the cars, and I don't know if I can trust your land line."