Complementing Morgan Pt. 01

"We find it prudent to show proper respect to our important guests," Arnold explained carefully.

"Nonsense, no need for Victorian sensibilities here. As you say, we eat in the garden because natural beauty is impressive. Less is more, eh?"

Arnold turned to Soo-Jung. "Our guest would like to see your uniform. Why don't you take off that dress now?"

"She speaks English." Boone commented, as his beautiful assistant removed her dress, folding it carefully and placing it on the table.

"She's mostly fluent," said Arnold, "but she doesn't understand certain, oh, what do you call them? Figures of speech? Idioms. She's not good with idioms, and it's pretty obvious English isn't her first language."

He took hold of his assistant's wrist as she moved to sit down beside him again. "No. Stand."

Soo-Jung did as she was instructed, offering the men an exceptional view of her lithe body. Her uniform consisted of a one piece leotard, the same shade of forest green as the dress she wore earlier. It was entirely opaque but thin and very tight. The uniform clung to her body like a second skin, revealing every fascinating contour beneath the fabric.

"Exquisite" remarked Boone, as he devoured a piece of his orange. "But I have to ask, why even bother? Why not just keep them naked? In the middle of the ocean, who cares?"

"What's the purpose of any uniform? It conveys status. Our subordinates dress according to who they report to. Mine wear this shade of solid green. Additionally, as flimsy as they are, the uniforms do cover the important parts. When they're wearing the uniform they're covered, and when they're covered they're working. It's psychological."

"Covered, maybe, but it's not like it hides anything. Those nipples could cut glass! Is that bump there her Complement?" He pointed at Soo-Jung's crotch with an orange slice. The thin fabric of her uniform bulged out ever so slightly around the hard metal of her focus before sweeping back over her labia, forming a prominent camel-toe.

Arnold forced himself not to roll his eyes. Was this asshole raised in a barn? Boone might be a shrewd investor, but he seemed to lack the finesse he'd come to expect from most power-brokers. These situations called for a wink and a nudge, not a wolf-whistle.

To think, he had initially been worried he might offend Boone's sensibilities with what went on on this ship.

"Yes, that's the focus, the metal part of her Complement. Fun fact, those uniforms aren't off-the-shelf, or even a designer brand. Would you believe that the Chairman designed the uniforms personally, while he still worked on the ship?" Arnold hoped that he could steer the conversation back to business by bringing up the cancer-ridden architect of this enterprise.

"Really?" said Boone. "I knew David was personally involved in all the bio-engineering, but I didn't realize his expertise extended to fashion design."

Naturally, Boone would refer to the Chairman by his first name. The man held something like a god-like status around here. Everyone usually referred to him as "the Chairman," because he founded and chaired the board of directors for both companies with employees aboard the Franklin.

The first company owned the ship itself. The Chairman created the second company based on the results of the covert research taking place here. By creating two separate legal entities, the results of the research could more easily be distanced from where and how the initial breakthroughs were achieved.

"Like the rest of him, David's expertise extends wherever he wants it to go," said Arnold. If Boone wanted to casually refer to the Chairman by his first name, he could too. "He started reading the manual for the clothing design software on a Tuesday, and the orders for the uniforms went out to the robo-factories that Friday."

Boone chuckled. "That certainly fits with what I've heard. Such a shame, about the cancer. But that leaves you as third in line for the CY throne, so to speak, doesn't it?"

Ah, yes. Another topic that was best avoided. Boone was shrewd, though. He may have already worked it out.

"Second," Arthur corrected him. "Lee got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. David and he go way back, so we didn't press charges, but after the incident Lee was forced into early retirement."

"Well then, congratulations on the promotion."

Arnold shrugged. "If David knocks up one of his women before he goes it won't really matter. Sure, he made this big deal about his employees retaining control of his companies after he's gone, and how we're going to inherit, since he has no children. The reality is that he's trying to have a kid right now. They're not sure if the IVF is going to work given the cancer, but the odds aren't bad. As soon as there's a child, we get nothing."

"Not quite the way I heard it," said Boone. "My understanding is that in the case of a child it goes into a trust, which the kid only gets after turning eighteen. The way it's worded, those shares function as non-voting shares until the kid grows up. Control is allocated in the same way it would be if there is no kid, with you still up there at the top for the next eighteen years."

"Second from the top."

"Mmm. Well, it really comes down to seats on the Board, doesn't it? Or should I say Boards?"

He'd figured it out. Crass but shrewd. "Does it?" Arnold asked, playing dumb.

"The way I see it, the prize is CY, not BPS. Both held privately, but David holds eighty percent of the equity in CY all by himself, the other twenty held as an investment by BPS. You can't buy CY shares at any price, because no one has any. I've tried, and David wouldn't budge. He pretty much has a stranglehold on BPS as well. By the way, does it seem weird that we're using acronyms here? I don't want to sound like a lunatic."

"What, you think talking about 'Banana Powered Shipping', or 'Complementing You' out loud sounds ridiculous? David may be brilliant, but his naming schemes leave something to be desired. The variable names he uses in his code drive the tech geeks up the wall, or so they tell me. Do you have any idea how close this ship came to being called The Banana Boat?"

"I'm going to assume you're joking," said Boone, "because I can't imagine anyone that smart being that dumb. I realize he made his first fortune curing Panama Disease, or as he likes to put it, giving the banana back to the world. Still, that's crazy."

"That's David for you," Arnold said. "Brilliant, but eccentric."

It was Boone's turn to shrug. "Anyway, whatever you want to call it, and in spite of what I was saying earlier, the prize is CY. BPS owns the boat and the oil patent, but the patents CY holds are priceless. The financials are shit right now, but that doesn't matter. Once CY is properly monetizing what they have — or should I say, what you have? — the money will pour in. Right now, the only way to hold CY is to invest indirectly by buying BPS, and I'm the only one selling. Does that sound about right?"

"You seem to be saying that you're a fool," Arnold observed. "Either you flew all the way out here only to change your mind and make your apologies in person, or I'm not following you."

"Oh? Tell me when this starts to sound familiar. Instead of thinking about ownership in terms of how much each person controls, the key here is to consider the voting blocs. There are going to be at least two, and one of them will be the share-holders on this ship. All the way out in the middle Pacific, I bet you have a tight little family, and none of you wants to share. I checked, not quite half of all BPS shares are held by people here."

Boone continued with a lack of decorum that Arnold tried his best to ignore. "When dear old Dave bites the big one, about half of his shares of both CY and BPS go to members of your research team. That leaves us with forty percent of CY on the Franklin, forty percent elsewhere, and twenty percent in the hands of BPS. Now, here you are, buying just enough of BPS to guarantee the crew on this vessel holds a clear majority of the BPS equity. Third or second in the company, you're the big cheese here, on-board the Franklin. See where I'm going with this?"

"If you're asking for a higher price, you're going to go home empty handed," Arnold told him. "I could only scrounge up so much spare change under the sofa cushions."

"You misunderstand. No need to update the paperwork, but if I'm going to play kingmaker, I'm going to need something extra. I'm offering you something that can't be had for any price, and I only ask that you return the favor." Boone raised the last slice of his orange to his lips and bit down very slowly, staring pointedly at Soo-Jung.

Oh boy. What he was asking could be problematic. "I think we may be able to come to some sort of accommodation, but I need to understand: Are you asking to spend a quiet afternoon with my assistant, or were you thinking of something a bit more long-term?"

"Not her," said Boone. "I wouldn't dream of moving in on your territory. I want to go downstairs and pick a few out for myself. I have some good friends in Customs and Immigration back home, and made the appropriate arrangements. There shouldn't be any legal complications."

Arnold frowned and slowly shook his head. "I'm not saying no. I think we can work something out, but I can't make it happen quite the way you're thinking."

Boone folded his arms across his chest. "I'm listening."

"The assistants on this ship don't leave here. Ever. If cargo that's supposed to be lost starts turning up where it shouldn't, certain people will start asking questions, which could put our whole research program in jeopardy."

"I'm not hearing the part where we can work something out," said Boone.

"You're thinking about this all wrong. Complements are legal in the United States. There are plenty of doctors who would be more than happy to prescribe a Complement if a woman walks in concerned about her chronic problem with bacterial infections. There's no reason you can't find a few lovely ladies who are already there. There are plenty that are desperate enough to accept a Complement in exchange for employment or, in many cases, a green card. You can't put this sort of thing in an employment contract, sure, but it shouldn't be hard to have a quiet word with your prospective employee to make it clear what she has to do to make the cut."

Boone did not seem convinced. "That sounds tedious."

"I can help with the legwork. You aren't the first person to make such a request. There's a firm that specializes in employment law that has coordinated similar arrangements for our clients before. They work with several recruiters and make sure to dot the 'i's and cross the 't's, legally speaking. We've been quite happy with their work. I'll have a word with them, and they can send you a list of dossiers for your consideration."

"That's starting to sound better," said Boone. "So long as the selection of candidates is appropriate, and I can choose the ones I want, that may be acceptable."

"Then we have a deal?" Arnold asked. The services of the lawyers weren't cheap, and typically the client was the one who paid. Boone was expecting a favor, so that meant Arnold was going to have to pony up. Luckily, he had left about seven hundred thousand dollars in wiggle-room, in case Boone had really tried to push him on the price. That should be more than sufficient to cover the extra expense.

"We do," Boone hesitated briefly, then held up his index finger before finishing the thought. "Just as soon as you make good on your end. I'll have a chat with these lawyers and if everything checks out, we can finish this next week. I was hoping to get it done today, but if you insist on taking your time I won't object."

"Good." Arnold breathed a sigh of relief.

"Now that that we're done with business, how about some entertainment?" said Boone. "She's all yours, but I'd love to see that assistant of yours put on a show for us. What do you say?"

"When you say put on a show. . .?" Arnold let the sentence trail off, encouraging his guest to elaborate. Soo-Jung, standing next to them had hardly moved a muscle this whole time, but he could see her tense up even further at the direction things were headed.

"The way I hear it, if you get one of these girls to start trying to rub one out, they just go nuts. I'd love to see that."

"Huh," Arnold grunted. "The first thing we do is teach them not to do that. You wouldn't believe what a pain in the ass it is to stop them once they start. You'll see. Luckily, they learn pretty quick that touching is a bad idea, no matter how good it feels at first. I've never really considered deliberately encouraging that."

"Well, think about it. Your assistant there has been the perfect servant this whole afternoon, so quiet. Demure. That hardly fits what I've heard about what these Complements do. I want to see her let loose." Boone smiled a predatory grin. "Call it a product demonstration for a prospective client."

Soo-Jung was visibly trembling now. Well, too bad. If Boone wanted a show, Arnold wasn't going to say no. This deal was too important, and it wasn't technically finalized yet. Besides, after two months Soo-Jung still hadn't figured out how to give a proper blow-job. She'd earned a little punishment.

"Alright. Watch." Arnold stood up, took his assistant's hand and led her out onto the grass a few paces away from the table.

"Please, sir," she said, "that will feel too good. Too much, unless you finish. Please."

"Quiet, now." He put a finger to her lips to hush her.

Arnold stood behind her, positioning her so they both faced back towards the table. He put his left arm around her, then leaned down and began gently kissing the nape of her neck. He ran his other hand lightly over the skin of her back.

It wasn't an overtly sexual touch, although every touch would be interpreted as somewhat sexual by a woman with a Complement. It would feel pleasurable to her, but in a way that wasn't immediately overwhelming.

He felt the tension in her body lessen. A high pitched sigh escaped her lips.

As he continued to kiss her, Arnold moved his right arm directly behind hers, grasped her right hand with his. His palm covered the back of her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers. Soo-Jung sighed loudly again.

Then, holding her hand, he began guiding it down towards where he wanted it to go.

She noticed. "Touching there will be too much. Please, sir." It was barely a whisper. She was applying just enough pressure to his hand to stop his downward movement.

Damn. He had hoped his more delicate initial touch would be enough to entice her to continue on her own. If Soo-Jung made a scene, forced him to shock her into obedience, that could be a problem. If she caused trouble now, he'd have her ass.

She should know better than to resist, know that he would zap her if necessary, yet she was resisting anyway. Maybe the carrot would work better than the stick.

"Do what I ask," he whispered into her ear, "and tonight it will be your turn. Not now, but tonight. And not your mouth. All the way. I promise."

From this angle, he couldn't see her face or eyes, but he knew his assistant well enough to recognize that reaction. He saw her nod, felt her stop resisting.

He guided her hand to where her uniform narrowed as his other hand reached up to caress her left breast. Soo-Jung knew what was expected of her. She uncurled her fingers from his and began rubbing herself through the thin cloth of the uniform. This time, the noise that escaped her lips was a deeper, throaty moan.

She picked up speed and her moaning became louder. Arnold felt her knees buckle. He caught her and gently lowered her to the grass, then rejoined Boone at the picnic table.

Soo-Jung was obviously past the point of no return.

She had pushed aside the strip of fabric that covered her groin to reveal her sopping-wet sex. Her right hand was a blur, vigorously, desperately rubbing herself. At the same time, she fervently ran her other hand over her breasts, pinching her nipples. Her moans had given way to loud, piercing cries in her native Korean.

"This what you wanted?" Arnold asked his guest. "Her Complement amplifies the effect of stimulation way beyond anything natural. She knows she can't get off, she knows she needs to stop, but it feels so overwhelmingly pleasurable she can't help herself."

Arnold called to Soo-Jung. "You can stop now if you want. Feel free to come back over here and rejoin me on the bench."

Unsurprisingly, his assistant ignored him and continued what she was doing.

"She really can't come?" asked Boone. His eyes were glued to Soo-Jung.

"That's what it says on the label. Look at her. Listen to her. What do you think? Does that look normal? You ever been with a girl that couldn't stop like that?"

Boone seemed to acknowledge the rhetorical questions for what they were and said nothing. For the next few minutes the young Asian woman's cries of pleasure mixed with desperation were the only sound in the garden.

It felt wrong to Arnold. An assistant going into melt-down like this was a problem to be corrected. Beyond that, this was supposed to be a business meeting. Boone was an outsider. Watching this out-of-control display, doing nothing to stop it, felt especially awkward with him sitting there.

"So," Boone finally said. "How do you get her to stop?"

Arnold snorted. "Did I mention it's a pain in the ass?"

"You seem like a big guy, how hard is it to hold her arms?"

Arnold looked at him. "Tell you what," he said. "I'll bet you a million dollars cash that you can't go over there and hold her down until she stops trying to frig herself."

"Hmph," Boone grunted disdainfully. "I'm guessing that involves a few broken bones and an ear full of cider. No thanks. But seriously, how do you get her to stop?"

"Smart man," Arnold said. "The most straightforward way to calm her down would be if I went ahead and had sex with her, but this isn't the time or place. Barring that, there's the really easy way, the easy way, and the hard way. The really easy way involves waiting for her to pass out, and that can take a while, not to mention she might hurt herself. The problem with the easy way is that it hardly ever works, but it's worth a shot."

He got up and walked closer, standing over her. He spoke in a loud, clear voice: "I told you earlier that I would reward you tonight if you do what I ask, and now I'm asking that you stop. If you don't stop right now, it will be Nadia's turn tonight."

Arnold had worded his initial promise that way, conditional upon Soo-Jung "doing what he asked" just so he could pull this trick. He really had his heart set on a blow-job from Nadia that evening.

Besides, did that bitch really think he would let her come after disobeying him like that? Orgasms were for special occasions. He made a point of rewarding the assistant who had pleased him most each week by allowing her an orgasm. Otherwise he would restrict his assistants to giving him oral pleasure unless they performed some special service above and beyond the call of duty. His policy was especially hard on Soo-Jung, but that was her problem, not his. She needed to get with the program and learn to give head properly.

Except that tonight, maybe she wouldn't. To his surprise, she reacted to his words.

Soo-Jung's eyes were unusually expressive, and now they were wide open and full of liquid fire. Her hands slowed, then stopped as she moved them to grab her legs just above the knees. Her cries morphed into a louder, lower-pitched growl of anguish.

She was gripping herself so tightly, she might have been cutting off circulation. Her fingernails cut into her bare skin, drawing blood. She rocked back and forth on the grass, as she wailed in frustration.