By Absinthe Disclaimers: See Chapter 1 Chapter 2: Somebody Leave the Light On The river was the burnt orange of tea, but ran black and mysterious where it was deep and the sun reflected in harsh contrast off it's swirling, dangerous surface. Treacherous with debris and sunken logs, the winding river was exotic and inviting to soulful adventure. Cassandra glanced up at the canopy of thick foliage that filtered precious sunlight and kept the air above the spring fed waters cool and humid. She maneuvered her green kayak around a half submerged log as though it were an extension of her body. Pausing on the other side she waited for her business partner, advisor and sometime lover to catch up. Neil grunted irritably as he hauled himself after her. He hated the outdoors, and he knew that Cassandra took great sadistic pleasure in dragging him along on her trips into the "wilderness". Sweating under the skirt that sealed the kayak against water when the little boat rolled, Neil suspected that they'd been designed to hold in heat and swelter the lower body. But he couldn't complain really, the sex made it all worthwhile. Especially last night, damn, the woman had been a wildcat. You'd have thought that she hadn't been laid in six months instead of just a few weeks. Cassandra was getting ahead of him again, and Neil had to abandon his thoughts to focus on catching up. This was definitely not his area. Grumbling to himself, Neil accepted Cassandra's mocking laughter with the same self deprecating smile that he always used in such circumstances. When she stopped teasing him, and warned him to stay behind her, but to stay close, he knew it was time to get scared. He heard the rapids before he saw them, and nervously adjusted his grip on the paddle. As Cassandra entered the first cataract and let out a yell of challenge and triumph, Neil tried not to throw up. That night, while Cassandra was in the shower, Neil pored intently over the documents she had stolen only a week earlier. The blue light from the screen of his laptop reflected upside down in the lenses of his glasses. The schematics represented three years of research and development and billions of dollars on the part of the United States Government. They wouldn't have any difficulty at all selling it for more than what it was worth. He smiled suddenly over the computer at the sounds of Cassandra's voice drifting out over the noise of running water. Her husky rendition of Fiona Apple's "Pale September" was a deliberate attempt to provoke him, and he knew it. It worked every time. Taking off his wire rimmed glasses, he pushed away from the desk and walked purposefully into the master bedroom, pulling the sheets back. He was prepared when she emerged, still dripping, from the bathroom, and bit at the skin on his throat after pouncing on him. She pressed him back onto the bed, her weight slung low between her arms and hips, back relaxed, and sleek, delicious sides heaving slightly. Her pendulous breasts brushed his chest as she devoured his lips. She was in a good mood, and decided that maybe she'd be nice for once and let him fuck her doggie style. But then again, maybe not. It was two fifteen in the morning, and the road was wet from a recent, light rain. Cassandra screeched around corners and over abrupt hillocks. She didn't see the tree that had fallen across the road up ahead, and when they slammed into it, they were going seventy miles an hour. "Where is he?" she demanded after glancing woozily around the room. "Doctor Davies will be here any minute to see you miss..." "Wells. Cassandra Wells. Where's Neil?" The nurse lowered her eyes from her patient's panicked face. "Where is she?" Cassandra shouted, furiously. "My name is Dr. Davies," a buff, dark skinned man appeared next to the nurse and announced himself. "Why won't anyone tell me where he is?" "I'm sorry Ma'am. He didn't survive the crash. You're a very lucky woman." The shocked silence that followed lasted until the two staff members had left their patient alone with this news. Some part of Cassandra couldn't seem to care about this turn of events. She briefly felt relieved to be quit of him, but as quickly as that thought reared its head, she shoved it aside. She couldn't quite believe that it had happened. Her recollection of the previous day was incredibly cloudy. She couldn't even remember what it was that she'd been fucked up on. But she must have been. What happened next happened at the same breakneck speed that seemed characteristic of all of the major event of her life. She learned that Neil's laptop had been salvaged from the wreckage. Nothing would have come of it, had Cassandra not been DUI. That gave the police the justification for searching the car, and consequently, the disk in the a: drive of Neil's precious machine. Cassandra was, upon her recovery from a severe concussion and several minor lacerations, taken directly to a state holding cell to await trial for the theft with intent to sell of a very valuable and very dangerous set of schematics. And so, according to plan, she was processed through the justice system. Cassandra cursed her foul luck and rued the decision to go out for a night drive, even if she couldn't ever remember having made it. One morning she woke up with a bitter taste in the back of her mouth, and a sense of disorientation. She'd been moved. At first she thought she might still be in prison, but the crisp white walls and padded floor made her change her mind. No prison was this clean or pristine. Swearing, she jumped to her feet and circled the tiny cell, running her hands over the blank white walls and futilely pushing at its single door. Her stomach grumbled plaintively, and her mouth was dry, but still no one came. She silently ticked off her grievances. This was America, even prisoners had certain rights. After making 568 circuits of the tiny room, her boredom and irritation at last were broken by the silent opening of the door on its well cared for hinges. A man dressed in black, with an imposing jawline and a wide, smooth face entered, allowing the door to fall shut behind him. Cassandra backed up to the opposite side of the cell and took a defensive posture, prepared to protect herself if she had to. "Hello Cassandra," he said in a strangely whispery voice, "My name is Michael." "Yeah? So? What the Hell is all this shit about?" "This is about you, and your life. Or your death. Whichever you choose." "I choose for you to take me back to my cell and let me go to court, because whatever the hell this is, I want no part of it." "Cassandra, do you want to die? Or do you want a chance to get back out into the world?" "What are you talking about?" "I'm talking about your decision. If you agree to my terms, I can get you out of here, and working again in two years, maybe less." "What do I have to do?" "So you agree?" "Tell me what I have to do first," Cassandra snarled, taking a step closer to her visitor. Nodding solemnly, Michael replied, "You have to submit to our training, you have to follow our directives, and you have to give total obedience, or you will face the consequences." "Which are?" "Cancellation." For some reason, the word sent a jolt through her spine and she didn't have to ask him what he meant by "cancellation". She knew. "I want to live," Cassandra replied, trying belatedly to sound haughty. Michael nodded. And so began Cassandra's new life. Continued in Chapter 3 Back to Under the Pink To My Fic Page
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