Complementing Morgan Pt. 01

Not that Morgan had ever tried or wanted to get married, but she would have had to stick her head pretty deep in the sand to ignore how commitment-phobic men were these days.

Derek raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Okay, I get it. I want to help, if I can. What do you need from me?"

"I need. . .", she began, and then trailed off, thinking. She needed to get out of here. She needed someone to tell her the whole Complement thing was some sort of sick joke. She needed for the last few months to simply not have happened. She needed to know who was responsible, and make that person bleed. She needed to take a long, hot shower in the privacy of her own home, spending some quality time with her detachable shower head.

"I need to be able to trust you."

"And what can I do to prove that you can trust me?"

He could believe her when she claimed to be innocent, that's what he could do. Actually believe her, not just nod his head and patronize her. That, however, wasn't going to happen. She wasn't going to give Derek the chance to call her a liar.

On the other hand, if he was offering, there might be something he could do. She didn't really expect him to follow through, but it was worth mentioning.

"This is going to sound a bit odd," she warned him.

"Try me."

"Remember the desk you delivered to my office when we met? I paid for it with my own money, not company money, so it's mine. I know it's a long shot given that everyone at Konnor hates my guts and I can't exactly use it until I get out, but it would mean a lot to me if you could get it back."

Derek's eyebrows shot up and his mouth fell open. He seemed surprised, shocked at the request. "The desk, it means that much to you?"

"Yes, I would really appreciate it." No, the desk didn't matter. The backup copy of her division's financial records she kept in the secret compartment meant that much to her. There might be a clue as to how she was framed, and who did it.

She could have had her lawyer go through official, legal channels to get that drive. However, doing that might have given whoever was framing her a chance to erase the data. Konnor already produced the official copy of the data for the grand jury, which made her look guilty as hell. What if someone switched the data in order to set her up, left out something important?

Unlike her lawyer, Derek actually delivered that desk and was unlikely to raise any red flags at Konnor. Maybe he could use his connection with the company that built the desk to retrieve the desk itself, never even knowing about the drive. It was something he could do that didn't require her to convince him that she'd been framed.

He nodded, seemed to accept her request. "I'll try. Is there anything else?"

"Aside from the obvious, you mean?" she asked.

"The obvious?"

"Why do you think you're here in the first place? Do I have to spell this out for you?"

Derek looked uncomfortable, his brow furrowing as he shifted in his chair. "I read the Complement manual cover-to-cover, so yeah, I understand. But we kissed once, and that's about it, you know? I'm just a little worried I might be taking advantage of you."

He was looking at her with those same puppy-dog eyes she remembered from their dinner so long ago. She looked into those green eyes, at his concerned expression and for the first time in a long while that nagging, cynical voice in the back of her head was quiet.

It occurred to her then that Derek was the only one to visit her since she'd been in jail. Kevin Rollins certainly hadn't shown up. She imagined Derek wrapping his arms around her, feeling the stubble on his face pressed against her cheek, feeling those beautiful eyes boring into her, breathing in his masculine scent.

Morgan breathed a little deeper, her heart pounding. "I've met women in here that already have one of those things," she told him. "They're so worked up you can even see it in the way their hips sway when they walk. That's going to be me, and you better believe that it scares the hell out of me. You're going to be the only one who can help, so don't you dare think you're taking advantage of me when you fuck me. It's only going to be a problem if you don't."

Morgan squeezed her legs together under the table, aroused by the thought of what Derek would soon be doing with her, of saying the words out loud. He didn't have Kevin's muscles, and she didn't know him very well but there was something reassuring about him. Derek seemed. . . genuine. He was the only thing that had happened to her in the last three months that hadn't gone horribly wrong.

She wanted him. Maybe it was because of how horny she'd been, maybe it was because he was the only man who had visited other than her lawyer, but she wanted him. Even without the Complement she had to fight the instinct to lean over and kiss him, touch him, let him take her. The watchful guard was the only thing that stopped her. As it was, all she could do was try to convince him to be there later when it was allowed, to explain how important it was.

"They allow monthly conjugal visits where they're sending me," she told him. "I'm going to need you there every single month. Every. Single. Month. Not just you, specifically I'm going to really need you to bring your cock, your nice hard cock, ready to go."

In Morgan's experience, men liked hearing how important their equipment was, though it wasn't just flattery. If Derek couldn't get hard when he showed up, he would be rather useless.

"From what they tell me, it's a forty five minute drive to the prison from Columbus," Morgan continued, "and I hear they schedule these things really early, so you don't get to sleep in. I don't care if you go out partying the night before and are hungover the next morning. I don't care if you have to work a graveyard shift the night before. I don't care if you somehow end up high on acid, and you're seeing purple polar bears. You still need to get up, and get it up. Every. Single. Month. No exceptions. You understand?"

He smiled. "Yes, I think I can manage that, and I'll try to get your desk back. There is one thing I'd like you to do for me, though. If I write to you, can you please write back? Since you don't get the internet in here, and from what the guards told me phone calls are iffy, it has to be old fashioned paper letters. No more radio silence, like the last three months. Okay?"

"You mean, like, erotic letters? You want to hear how desperate I am, is that it? I can do that, sure."

"That's, no—" Derek shook his head. "If I'm going to do this, I'd like to know a little bit more about you. That's all. Though if you want to talk about it, that's fine too. Whatever you want to say, I just want to hear from you."

"If you send me a letter, I promise I'll respond, but—"

A buzzer rang. Visiting hours were over, and the guard moved forward to escort her away.

"Just be there every month," she called over her shoulder, as she was led away.

Five days later, two days before her transfer to Marysville, she got a letter from Derek. It was one sentence:

=================

Morgan,

As promised, I retrieved your desk.

Derek

=================

She had no idea how he'd managed it, let alone so quickly. Derek was either a miracle worker or a liar. He included a picture of the desk with the letter, so she was leaning towards believing him a miracle worker.

As she had promised him, she wrote back immediately. She thanked him profusely, asking how he had managed such a feat. All that day she couldn't stop thinking about him. He would be there for her.

That night, lying in her bunk, she thought about Derek's deep, soothing voice, his piercing eyes, his smell. She'd never seen him naked and she tried to picture it. It had been over a month since her last orgasm at this point. She let her fingers glide across her body. A rivulet of moisture ran down her thigh from between her legs. It took every ounce of willpower she had to force herself to stop before causing another scene.

The next day she got another letter:

=================

Morgan,

You never cared about the desk did you? I found the encrypted drive in the secret compartment.

That is where you hid the money you stole, isn't it? I checked with the police, they say the stolen funds were converted into cryptocurrency and never recovered. From what I gather, it can be stored on a small storage device exactly like what I found.

Let me guess: I have it wrong. You have the password for the drive, and when I decrypt it there will not be anything of value. As I'm sure you are aware, modern encryption is designed so that there may be multiple passwords. Each password can decrypt a different set of data. Don't even bother trying to give me the bogus password to decrypt the bogus data, I'm not falling for your manipulative bullshit a second time.

By the way, I turned the drive over to the police. I'm sure they are reading your mail, so they would have found out about the drive from this letter anyway. I don't have it anymore. Maybe if you tell them the real password so they can recover the money, they will reduce your sentence.

Derek

=================

Oh god.

Of course Derek was too good to be true, and naturally there was nothing she could say or do to convince him the drive had no stolen money on it. What sort of fairy tale did she think she was living in? This was her life, after all, and she should have been used to how things were by now. Anything good that ever came her way was ripped out from under her before she could enjoy it.

She wrote back with the real password for the financial data, begged him to believe that there was no secondary password to reveal stolen cryptocurrency. She invited him, even encouraged him to show the drive and the financial data to the police.

She mailed the letter, but knew it was useless. He was angry, and it was over, as bad as if he had never existed. Derek would ignore her, let the Complement drive her to madness without a second thought.

Morgan skipped dinner, unable to eat, dreading the inevitable. At five the next morning they came to take her to Marysville and put in the Complement. She was so angry and scared she didn't notice that Amato was on the same prisoner transport until they were half way to Marysville.

— 03 — Derek —

How could he have been so stupid? Stupid, stupid, stupid, he berated himself.

He had been worried he was going to be taking advantage of Morgan. Oh, the irony.

No wonder she wanted someone outside her company. Her plan had been to put up with him for the next few years while she was in jail in exchange for getting her twenty million back. There had never been any attraction to him, just cold calculation. Who better to get the desk back than the delivery guy who dropped it off?

After going to the trouble of retrieving the desk, it felt like a kick to the balls.

He told Konnor Interactive the desk was defective, that there was a recall from the manufacturer for this particular item. His offer to refund them twice what Morgan paid for the desk, "for their trouble", prevented anyone from asking too many questions. That had taken a whole afternoon on the phone. Those were four hours of his life he had pissed down the drain for that manipulative bitch.

When he got the desk, opened up the secret compartment and saw the drive everything fell into place. It was now obvious why she ordered this desk and didn't want to talk about it. She was using it, using him, to hide her crimes.

There was nothing Derek hated more than the feeling that someone had taken advantage of him.

He sent the drive to the police, just as he'd promised in his letter to Morgan, but not before making a copy. It was out of force of habit, really. He backed up all potentially valuable data that crossed his path just in case he found a use for it later. Of course, now that the police had the original, he was back to just one copy.

Naturally, Morgan had written to say there was nothing worthwhile on the drive. Her bogus password unlocked boring financial data. Lies on top of lies.

What should he do? What could he do? Well, he could just ignore her. Ignoring her would really, really hurt her.

Could he really pass up that opportunity? His visit with Morgan had reminded him just how incredibly gorgeous she was. Even though she was wearing those orange, baggy prison clothes, her natural beauty was obvious.

Of course, Lydia had been physically attractive too. She probably still was. Look where that got him.

He could use Morgan as a fuck-toy, showing up to the conjugal visits only when he felt like it, take what he wanted on his terms. Of course, using her like that is exactly what she would want, the more the better. If using her was what she wanted, then he wasn't exactly using her, or punishing her, was he?

Maybe he could fuck her without giving her an orgasm. According to the Complement manual, only vaginal sex would allow her to climax. If she swallowed his semen, she wouldn't have an orgasm, but after a few minutes she would feel a decrease in her level of arousal. It would be a release of erotic tension without the sharp, powerful climax. Anal sex would yield the exact opposite result, boosting her already super-charged libido even further.

Derek doubted Morgan would consent to anything that would make her more aroused, and he certainly wasn't going to do anything she didn't agree to. Maybe just let her blow him? It would calm her down, but she still wouldn't be getting off, no matter how badly she needed it.

Did he really want to be that cruel? Wasn't what they were already doing to Morgan enough? Maybe more than enough?

At eleven in the morning on a Thursday he found himself sitting at his kitchen table with a tumbler of Scotch. Derek rarely drank alcohol. However, when he had a difficult decision to make he often poured himself a drink and mulled it over. He would indulge twice a month, at most.

He stared at his copy of Morgan's drive sitting on the table before him, trying to decide whether to go for his needle nosed pliers. Like Lydia's ring, the drive was a symbol of his failure. On the other hand, it was just a symbol and it seemed silly to destroy something just to make himself feel better after being duped.

The doorbell rang. It was such an unusual event he first thought he had imagined it. The delivery drones left their letters and packages out back. Only personal couriers dropped anything off at the front door and that was very unusual. He wasn't expecting any critical contract deliveries, especially on the weekend.

The doorbell rang a second time. He hadn't imagined it.

Looking through the peephole Derek saw an enormous man in a pin-stripe business suit standing on his doorstep. He stood at least three inches taller than Derek, and while the suit covered most of his body, this was clearly a man that visited a gym regularly. Derek opened the door warily. The last time someone rang his doorbell unexpectedly it had been a pair of religious nuts.

"Derek Simon? May I have a moment of your time?"

"What do you want? I'm not interested in converting to your religion."

"No, my name is Kevin Rollins. I worked with Morgan Heller at Konnor Interactive. I realize this is an awkward way to introduce myself, but I would really like to talk with you. May I come in?"

"Is this about the drive I found? I don't have the real password."

"Drive? No, I'm here about a personal matter, about Morgan.

Derek was curious. He wanted know what this was about, to use this opportunity to learn more about Morgan, even if she had tried to use him. His gut reaction, however, was to ask Kevin to leave. Derek couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was about Kevin Rollins that he instantly distrusted, but something about the man didn't sit well with him.

Derek considered insisting they talk on the porch, but any trouble this man might cause inside he could just as easily cause on the porch. The closest neighbor was over a quarter of a mile away. Curiosity won out over his apprehension.

"Come on in." Derek waved his guest inside.

Derek led Kevin into the kitchen, watching him closely. The old, tall pine trees that grew outside Derek's house hid the bulk of the mansion from the driveway, even in winter. Most people didn't grasp the sheer size of the place unless they saw it from the back or had been inside. From the front it appeared to be a relatively small home.

Derek watched as Kevin took in the complex pattern of the hardwood flooring, the ornate wardrobe in the entryway, the long, polished stone counter tops and the gleaming modern appliances in the kitchen. Light streamed in from two large windows, highlighting the intricate design of the large, wooden table and chairs.

Kevin's eyes widened in surprise. His guest clearly didn't know much about Derek, but then not many people did.

"You, ah, like to cook, I take it?" Kevin asked looking around.

"I make most of my meals here, yes. I don't particularly like eating out." Derek gestured at the table. "Sit down."

Derek realized his bottle of Scotch and tumbler were still sitting on the table. Damn, the one time he decided to have a drink it was a Thursday morning, and he had unexpected company. Kevin probably now thought him an alcoholic. He decided to just go with it. "I was just thinking over an important decision. Care to have a drink with me? If you'd prefer I could get you a coffee, or espresso. Or water."

Kevin leaned down, looking at the bottle. "25 Year Lagavulin? Must be some decision. If you're sharing, I won't say no."

Derek took another tumbler down from one of the cabinets and poured Kevin a glass. "My ex insisted I stock up on only the finest Scotch. Said it would make me refined. As far as I can tell it just makes me drunk, though I can't complain about the taste."

They both enjoyed the Scotch in silence for a few moments.

"So. . ." Derek began. "You were going to explain what you're doing here?"

"Ah, yes. Let me ask you: how well do you know Morgan?"

"To be perfectly honest, not well at all." Derek replied. He had only had a little bit of the Scotch, but he was definitely feeling it now.

"Has she mentioned me?" Kevin asked.

"No. Who are you?"

"Morgan and I had, well, you could call it an intermittent relationship." Kevin took another large sip from his tumbler. "We would see each other for a while, then one of us would do something stupid, and a few months later we'd get back together again. This time I get the feeling she may be a bit more upset than usual."

"You know she's in jail, right?" Derek asked. It seemed the obvious question.

"Yes. That's why I'm here. I understand that she requested her Complement be keyed to you. Honestly, I took the morning off work and came over here as soon as I heard. I was expecting I'd have to come back this evening I didn't really expect you to be here, but, well, here you are."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure Morgan was looking for someone who doesn't work for your company."

"I can understand that," said Kevin slowly. "You need to understand, I was in a very awkward position. If I didn't testify, I was fired. I didn't know much, anyway. I could confirm the Marketing director never touched her mobile during the meeting that day, but that's it. A dozen people were there and they forced us all to testify. What could I do? If I didn't do it, I would have been fired, and there were another eleven witnesses. That doesn't mean I don't care about Morgan."

"And what did Morgan say to that?" Derek asked.

"Nothing, because I never told her. I'm a fool, I know. I just assumed she would reach out to me, and now she's gone and put her life in your hands." Kevin took another large swallow of the Scotch. He seemed genuinely upset, but Derek got the impression that Kevin was angrier at the idea that Morgan wasn't his than at the idea that she was in the hands of someone he didn't know who might mistreat her.