1999

Will Rike

Chapter 2

"sec're-tary, n.; one entrusted with secrets, from L. secretum, a secret. 2. a general official in overall charge of such work. 3. an official in charge of a department of government."---Webster's Dictionary

Secrecy is the secret of power. Power includes the possession and distribution of secrets. The secretary is the second highest officer in a corporation. (No, not the office secretary.)

Secrets are information with high value. The underling feels rewarded, encouraged, validated as a person when a corporate secret is 'given' to him. Secrets are another form of 'capital' in the corporation where you ARE what you're worth. Once possessed, you now have the power or 'capital' to reveal it when advantageous.

Like any corporation, the secrecy that permeates Dunloe Ingredients increases toward the peak where it is detached from the lower pyramid and protected by a force field. In general, employees don't even know each other's salaries, let alone who's in the floating peak.

For example, the fact that Brunette has worked for Ian since her IRA days. In her operating unit she was known as the ice lady, probably the first female interrogator in the IRA.

Ian's secret is that he, unlike anyone else at Dunloe, is concerned about the general public beginning to suspect that their overweight is due not to their lack of willpower but to their appetites being triggered by processed ( = reconstructed) foods, and thus being fattened like any farm animal so that they'll consume more and more. Dunloe, after all, has its roots in Kerry farming.

Dunloe's talented PR Dept. continually reinforces the idea that people "are free to choose to do what they want." PR very much admires a cigarette company's having purchased the original American Bill of Rights document. The Bill of Rights added the missing civil rights to the original US Constitution written in secret meetings in Philadelphia's Carpenter's Hall by George Washington and many members of the Society of the Cincinnatti. They were added four long years after the Continental Congress ratified George's rights-less Constitution.

Secrecy can only trickle down in the alcoholic father's codependent family. He must know all, be told all. But he doesn't have to tell anyone anything except when he wants to, when, by divulging a secret to an underling he'll gain some more power, or some more compulsive loyalty. He is powerless to do otherwise.

And while secrecy is the secret of power, it can also be one's undoing. There are rigid rules in the corporation regarding something so important as secrecy. Rules are the essence of the corporate life & death game. In an ASCO like Dunloe, rules are rigid as the psychological structures of the alcoholic's family.

Overview of Dunloe's Food Research Strategy & Tactics
© United States Intelligence Service

Dunloe wants to be able to change (= remotely control) consumer tasting. They won’t use the radio-transmittrer approach of the mouse kings, research nowadays. This means changing preferences about flavors. They want to develop a substance which, when added to a flavor, will cause the consumer to like it, when normally he or she would not. This research has a history. It developed as an outgrowth of the widespread inclusion of salt compounds in popular foods before the food corporations began to come under scrutiny in the 1980s. This is the trigger approach.

Another approach is through the manipulation of texture. It is known from the university corporation research labs that texture has a surprisingly more prominent role in the total pleasure of food.

Then there’s the Cosmetic wing: food’s face. Just what a robotically produced fishstick should look like is a matter for an entire wing of Dunloe’s Lab complex.

The food-psychology research lab is trying various ways to re-induce product loyalty by "rekindling the spark in a long-term relationship" with a nostalgia flavor. They also interlink with packing arts division on almost a daily basis.

Packaging people are among the Dunloe elite. "Packaging is reality," they all say. But packaging, for all the spotlight, is still, in the grand design of Dunloe Castle, a sub-department of Advertising. Many in packaging feel that ads hasn’t half the creativity it needs. But the owners know that advertising is a major institution that must be catered to. And yes, packaging is the rebel visual-artist’s hangout.

But flavorists are artists too, in this case jazz artists in a non-academic domain of art: the food arts. Theirs is a more subtle art, like classical music, victim of the higher whims―= just more choices― of higher-end consumers.

Logistics occupies a building within Psychology’s wing of the Dunloe Pentagon. Logistics spends all that time trying out every possible purchaser-cooking instruction

Ian has always been modest about the utter size and complexity of Dunloe's Food Institute which he heads. No, not modest. Secretive. One building is entirely devoted to food reconstruction research labs. Around Dunloe its referred to as Food Recon, and it's Dunloe's bread and butter in that it is the only part of the Dunloe Institute that is known in the food industry and actually makes a profit as a consultant to the industry's food reconstruction sector. It was Ian's conception, and on it he rose to power in Dunloe.

The other building houses the labs devoted to appetite triggering, aroma research, texture research, and last but not least, taste enhancement. There's even a psychotronic lab that has followed Delgado's work made famous his book The Physical Control of the Mind, and new ratbot research done in New York. (Delgado even demonstrated on film and in public that he was able to stop a charging bull in its tracks with the flip of an on/off switch connected to a radio transmitter that sent signals to an implant in the bull's brain. The new 'ratbot' mice can be made to turn left or right with the arrow keys on a laptop. Dunloe's psychotronics lab is experimenting with ways to insert molecule-sized radio rec in food to enter the bloodstream during digestion and make theirm way to the brain.)

But Ian's lab is devoted to finding a way to eliminate the weightgain side effect of the appetite triggers. Unfortunately, his fellow board membrs don't know this yet.

In the same way humans seem driven to manage the forest, Dunloe wants to manage, and therefore control, and therefore derive money from so basic an animal activity as eating. In his more euphoric moments under the influence of alcolol and marijuana, and domination of Blonde, especially when she finally submitted to sex with Brunette while he watched, he had asked himself, "who knows what power all this will bring."

Micky Dee's Restuarants people keep emailing him about their concern over the appetite triggers. "Shut up and count your money, you jerks," he had muttered to himself as he sent a placating email back. He knew it was just some college grad wanting to call attention to himself.

The name of his mini-yacht is Boss. It has two bedrooms, a galley (kitchen), and two decks. The lower deck has chairs and a table with a large beach umbrella aft. The upper deck has all the hi-tech equipment that one would expect Ian to have: a world-wide locator which uses the navigation satellite, radar for nearby navigation, and sonar for underwater monitoring. There is also an automatic-pilot system which will steer them away from any unseen obstacles.

Ian jumps on board and assists the Two over the little plank from the dock. "Failte romhat (pr. foll-tih roe), both of you. That means 'welcome'."

The Two are wearing high heels. Brunette sits at the table and takes hers off. Blonde sits down and begins to do the same.

"Leave yours on," he says to her. There's firmness in his voice. It is a big test. How she reacts will tell him a lot.

Distracted by all the equipment, she follows his instruction. "This is a wonderful boat," she says, not for a moment realizing that she has just obeyed her first order in a very natural way.

Ian looks at Brunette to see if she caught it. She looks at him straight in the eyes. An entire strategy has been set in motion. They won't sit down and discuss any plans. No board meeting necessary.

Ian feels a surge of sexual power again. "Manhattans, lads?" on his way to the galley.

Brunette laughs, her position as second in command in the new ΔCorp already secured.

While he makes the drinks he glances out at Blonde's beautiful body. Her legs are long and perfectly shaped. Her hair reaches her shoulders. Her blouse is ivory silk, her skirt tan. Her clothes drape her loosely, but reveal a number of curves in a conservative sexy way. Last but not least, she wears high heels.

He fantasizes her without her skirt on. The bottom of her blouse circles her hips at just the right height. You're a beauty, Blondey he muses as he shakes the Bushmill's and vermouth in a silver shaker filled with ice.

He prefers Bushmill's Irish whiskey in general. There are the odd private lots of better whiskeys that occasionally appear at £10-a-shot, the bottle finished on the night. But on the day, plain old Bushmill's regular, not its 12-year old or malt versions, but 8-year-old Bushmill's is still the right taste, right taste intensity, and right smoothness.

At the proper time, he pours it through an ice strainer into two Manhattan glasses. He makes Brunette's martini and returns to the deck.

"Taste it," he says to Blonde. This time there is a little more firmness in his voice. She sips it.

"Mmmm, it's great." It is another successful trial, as Ian would call it in his lab.

A voice calls from the dock. It is the picnic for three that Ian had ordered being delivered from the restaurant. A large wicker basket is filled with thick sandwiches, assorted cheeses, crackers, and champagne.

"Great idea," says Blonde. She is impressed with his ways and his world. Her Manhattan renews the desire that has been dormant since they left the restaurant. She fantasizes him giving her gentle orders. There is no third person involved, however. She sips again and takes a deep breath of the ocean air. "Mmmm, this is great. Absolute heaven."

They break into the lunch. The sun is lower on the horizon now and burns their faces a bit. Ian lowers the table umbrella. They eat in hungry silence for a while.

"Don't worry lads. In a few minutes we'll be out in the bay." He gets up and climbs to the upper deck and turns on some instruments. Then he turns on the motor which gives the Two a start. He returns to the table.

She gets up without delay and goes below to the galley, a little unsteady in her heels due to the rocking of the boat and the incoming effects of the latest Manhattan.

The Two sit and sip while Ian heads for the upper deck. The boat gently leaves the dock and putts along until safely out of the marina. Then it speeds up.

Blonde is surprised. She thinks for a while. "I never did that before. I don't think I could get into that," she says quietly.

With each passing knot an intensely private world is opening to them. One of great freedom. All three sense it. Blonde feels a sexual energy from a new place her psyche.

Ian slows the boat and drops anchor. They are a picture-postcard distance from shore. The sun is heading toward the horizon. The breeze is perfect. And the drinks continue to unlock their chakras.

Ian returns to the table and takes his shirt off. He has a beautiful chest and the shoulders of an athlete. He looks in Blonde's eyes. "Do you mind?"

She is beginning to enjoy his speaking to her without ever saying 'please'." She finds herself wanting to hear it again. "Can I take off my heels?"

She puts her lips near his. He waits for her to kiss him. She obeys. There has always been good chemistry between them. The continue as Blonde returns with the new round of drinks. She is startled by what she sees. "Oh!"

They are at another crossroads. What happens in the next moment or so will determine how the whole thing will go. Ian must act. He asks Blonde for a kiss.

Blonde is completely compelled by his order. She moves to him, her footing unsure as the boat sways. The breeze ripples her clothes in waves over her body. Her hands are at her sides. She is lovely and vulnerable.

Ian is charged. He stands up and pulls her chin to his. He kisses her and says in a dark voice, "You're beautiful." He means it.

He places his fingers on the middle of her spine and gently pushes her closer to him. She can smell him now. She can hear him breathe. She hears her own breathing grow louder and more rapid. He lifts her arms and places them around his neck. Their bodies are together for their first electric moment.

Brunette is aroused by watching them. She finds herself saying, "You're beautiful." She means both of them. She has almost never been attracted to a woman.

Blonde's first moan is heard. It is soft and short. Ian moves his hand through her hair. Then he gently pulls on it causing her head to lean back. He kisses her neck. He grips her hair, ever so slightly increasing the force. Another soft moan.

He touches Blonde's breasts. She withdraws, but he has a strong hold on her. She moans when she finds she is not free to stop him. She gives in to him, willingly.

She begins to undo her belt. Ian picks up the Manhattan from the table and holds it to her lips. She sips it willingly as her belt drops to the deck.

She reaches behind with both hands and unbuttons her skirt. Ian holds her hands behind her while he touches her breasts again. Her moan is louder. She has often fantasized her hands being held behind her back.

Ian put his hands on her hips and moves them left and right. She follows his instruction and continues on her own. Her eyes are closed, her mouth slightly open. She is utterly beautiful and vulnerable.

Brunette moves behind Ian and puts her hands on his shoulders. She kisses the back of his neck and says, "You're great," quietly enough so that Blonde does not hear.

The motion of Blonde's hips cause her skirt to work its way down to her high heels. Her panties are silk and loose. The lace around them is lovely.

Brunette is excited by Blonde's legs, and is surprised at herself. "You certainly are beautiful." She means it.

Blonde continues her little dance as Ian continues to touch her. With each new level of arousal she is more submissive. And willing. "Oh, Baby," she finds herself saying as Ian puts his hands on her beautiful bottom. He caresses its perfect soft curves in circles.

As her hips move left and right, she passionately repeats over and over, "I'm yours and I'll do anything you say."

All the while, Brunette is leaning on Ian from behind. She is now moaning ever so slightly. "You're great, you're great," she repeats over and over in Ian's ear.

Ian takes Blonde's right hand and places it on her panties. She understands his nonverbal order and slips her fingers slowly and gracefully into them. Her fingers begin to move back and forth. She continues swaying her hips. Her moans are loud now.

Ian sits down and sips his drink as he watches Blonde's utter ecstasy as she reaches orgasm nearly screaming. She drops to her knees in weakness.

While he watches, Brunette kneels on the deck and unzips his fly and pulls his pants down. She tugs at his underpants until he helps her pull them off.

"Come here," he orders Blonde. She moves to him on her knees. He grabs her hair and pulls her head to his lap. Brunette moans as Blonde's lips brush by hers. He lifts Brunette's head off him and puts Blonde's in its place.

He is king, his subjects at his feet. Both women moan. It is his fantasy harmony. In a minute he lets out a short loud yell.

The three doze for a while. Then Ian gets up and takes Brunette by the hand to the bedroom below. She helps him pull her clothes off.

Ian is excited by comparing her to Blonde even though he knows her so well. Brunette surrenders so well, at just the right moment. And she is still beautiful.

Her legs are long, her hair straight. Her breasts are smaller, her nipples darker. Her bottom is smaller.

He is on his back. She gets on top of him and they begin to move together. He flicks her nipples with his fingernails. She moans loudly. Ian lies back as she does most of the work. She takes a long time but Ian has good control. Especially since he had an orgasm a short while ago. After some time, "Ohh" in a high pitched voice.

Out on the deck, Brunette's orgasmic yells awaken Blonde. She is disoriented for a moment. Then a feeling of rejection takes away the happiness. She takes a sip of her drink and wonders if she should go down to the bedroom. Her glass is soon empty so she drinks the rest of Ian's.

The alcohol rejuvenates her. So do her surroundings. She sits at the table and looks at the setting sun. She looks at the beautiful hills of Banba. Some seagulls float overhead. The breeze heals.

She has never done this sort of thing before. Not even fantasized it. But it was wonderful. And she very much liked being watched. It gave her the feeling of power.

She decides to go below. She puts on her skirt, the only thing she had taken off. She starts to take her heels off but changes her mind.

In the bedroom, Ian and Brunette lie in a light sleep. Blonde peeps in the half open door. She sees them and feels abandoned. She decides to make a round of drinks. The drink-making noises awaken the others.

She arrives with the food and drinks and puts the tray in the center of the bed. The three lie around it. Ian puts his hand on Blonde's bottom. She recoils a bit. He says nothing and waits a bit before touches her gently again after the alcohol has done more work.