The Lotus Eaters

Executive Complex, Ciudad Balboa, Balboa, Terra Nova

Parilla's secretary, Luci, turned her office chair and crossed her legs to reveal as much thigh as possible. It was an automatic gesture, as well as a needless one. Few men bothered to look at her legs when there was such a bounty of breast to catch the eye.

Carrera forced his own eyes away, sighing as he often did when passing through the President's door. I wonder if she even thinks about it, or if it's all genetic autopilot. Hmmm . . . I wonder if Parilla's fucking her. He's an awfully young old man and a man is, after all, only as old as the woman he feels.

Mitchell stayed behind in the anteroom as his chief went in to consult with the President, the door clicking shut behind him. It was one of the perks of driving or guarding Carrera; flirting with the President's secretary.

Just flirting though, Mitchell thought. Chica's enough woman for me.

Even so, Mitchell sat on the corner of Luci's desk, making small talk and taking in as much of two of Balboa's greatest natural wonders as possible.

"Were to today, Mitch?" Luci asked, with a friendly but not necessarily inviting smile. Not that she'd have minded having a go of it with the stocky aide, but he'd shown long since that he wasn't available for anything but admiring the scenery.

* * *

"Enough admiring the scenery," Carrera said, his face mock serious. Mitchell was only slightly less mocking when he braced to attention and sounded off with a "Yessir" that would have been loud in a much larger space than the anteroom.

Luci rolled her eyes. She knew that the display was as a much a show as she routinely put on herself. Carrera waved goodbye casually as he and Mitchell headed out the door and toward the elevators. Luci then stood, closed the door behind them, and turned to make sure Parilla's door was shut as well. Only then did she pick up the telephone.