Chapter 25
March 14, 6:55 a.m.
Paul couldn’t stop staring at himself in the mirror. The swelling in his chin was down and he’d gone back to work yesterday after recovering over the weekend. Inserting an implant was not nearly as traumatic as removing attached tissue, the aesthetic surgeon had explained. Paul turned his head and admired his new profile. He loved the definition! Why had he waited so long to do this? Why didn’t everybody with a recessed chin do this?
The $13,350 cost came to mind. Paul felt sorry for people without the means to pay for it. Procedures like this one could transform a person’s life, opening up career and relationship opportunities that had never existed before. He felt like a new person and couldn’t wait to show off his improved profile. It occurred to him that he might eventually find a better job for himself. There was nothing wrong with software management, but he’d entered the field because it was a behind-the-scenes position, and he’d assumed his homely looks wouldn’t work against him in employment interviews.
He ate breakfast and dressed for work, stopping occasionally to run his finger along the scar in the soft tissue under his new chin. Such a small incision, such a huge improvement.
“Tonight’s the night,” he said to Lilly as he took her out for her morning stretch. “How can Camille say no to this face?”
The afternoon dragged by as Paul grew more excited-and anxious-about his evening plans. He and Camille had been to dinner several times and once to a movie, but she hadn’t allowed him to go much farther than kissing and touching. She said she wanted them to take things slowly and get to know each other before committing to a sexual relationship. Paul understood and was trying to be patient, but they were both in their thirties and life was short.
His message center flashed and Paul tapped it open. Stacia’s face appeared. “Will you come to my office please? There’s someone here to see you.” She clicked off before he could respond.
Paul’s heart fluttered as he imagined possible scenarios. Was this about the replacement database? He pushed out of his chair and glanced around his office. Should he bring his briefcase? Would he be fired or arrested?
His last mission had gone smoothly. Terrance Kettering had paid up front without any shenanigans, Brentwood had resigned under pressure, and with a little push from Paul, Kettering had landed the position. Brentwood claimed he’d been hacked and framed, but no one believed him. Was it all a sting? Had he been the one to be set up?
Paul willed himself to be calm. He picked up his Dock and strolled down the hall, running into Camille, who was just heading back to her office. “Hey, Camille.”
“Hello, Paul.” She examined his chin as he stepped closer. “You look terrific.” She kept her voice low and her hands at her sides.
“Thanks. I love it.” He wanted to talk about the procedure but this was not the time or place. “Did you just come from Stacia’s office?”
“Yes. Someone from the FBI is asking about access to employee records. Are you headed in there?”
The FBI. Oh dear god. “Should I be nervous?”
She gave a devious little grin. “That depends on what you’ve been up to.”
Paul tried to come up with a joke, but his throat was dry. “Wish me luck. I’ll see you tonight.”
The black-suited man in Stacia’s office had a boyish look, round-faced and chubby. Paul relaxed a little.
“This is Agent Franklin with the FBI,” Camille said. “He’s here asking about the federal employee databases we have the privilege of maintaining.”
Paul nodded. “How can I help you?” He hoped his voice didn’t sound as nervous as he felt.
“In the last five months, two federal employees have claimed their message systems were hacked and a saboteur sent fraudulent messages in their names. We’re looking into it.” Franklin shifted forward, unwedging himself from the narrow chair. “You’re one of ten people in this office who has access to personnel files. Have you noticed any irregularities?”
“No, I haven’t.” Paul resisted the urge to embellish.
Franklin gave him a piercing look. “Have you ever sent any phony messages, even as a joke?”
“Never.” Paul forced himself to meet the agent’s eyes. “I take the privacy and security issues I’m trusted with very seriously.”
“Do you have any idea who might send sexually implicit messages?”
“No one I work with here would do anything like that.”
Stacia added, “I’ll also vouch for everyone in my department.”
Agent Franklin glanced at Paul. “I’ll run a program that will screen the personnel databases for irregularities and see what I find.”
Paul sensed the conversation was over, but he waited to be dismissed.
After a moment Agent Franklin said, “Thanks for your time.”
Stomach churning, Paul nodded and left. As worried as he was about the FBI scrubbing their system for digital fingerprints, he was relieved the agent had not mentioned the Department of Energy position.
He assumed Olbert had not reported getting an email offering to sell it. Thank god. Investigators would take job manipulation far more seriously than prank skin shots and sexual offers. That kind of crap happened so often it was impossible to catch or stop. Paul tried to push the worry out of his mind. They wouldn’t find anything that pointed directly at him, and he’d conducted his final arrangement. It would all blow over, he told himself. He had to focus on his date with Camille. Tonight was pivotal for their relationship, and he needed to be more charming than he’d ever been in his life.
After dinner at Georgio’s, they climbed in Paul’s car and headed for Camille’s house in Capitol Heights. Rain beat down on the metal roof and they could barely make conversation. As they turned off Central Avenue, Camille suddenly asked, “Would you alter personnel files if you had a good reason?”
“That depends.” He glanced over to read her expression, but couldn’t tell much in the dark interior.
“Would you alter something for me?” She stroked his shoulder.
“I would do almost anything for you, Camille.” Paul paused. “Especially if we were lovers.”
“That’s good to know.”
Paul pulled into her driveway and shut off the car. “Do you have something specific in mind?”
“Come inside and we’ll talk about it.”
Camille poured two glasses of wine and they snuggled together on her couch, as they had on their last date. After a few minutes of kissing, Paul’s groin was almost bursting with anticipation. He distracted himself with occasional thoughts of Agent Franklin just to keep under control.
Lips pressed to his, Camille whispered, “I want you to add my name to the employment commissioner’s replacement list.”
“I’d have to delete someone else.” Paul slid his hand up Camille’s short red dress. She wasn’t wearing underwear and he almost came.
“I know.” She let him rub his finger over her clitoris. “No one will ever check the database, will they?” She sounded breathy.
Paul hoped it was his caress rather than her ambition making her horny. “Not unless something happens to Morton.” Paul could barely form the sentence. His erection wanted out of his pants and into her wet bliss.
“Will you do it for me?”
“I’ll think about it.” Manipulation was new to him, but he understood he had to prolong her quest for as long as possible.
“Maybe I can help you make up your mind.” Camille unzipped his pants and freed his penis. “Oh my. You are nicely sized.”
Paul grabbed her hand. “Let’s get our clothes off.”
He stood and led her to the bedroom. His pulse pounded in his ears. It was finally happening! He prayed their sex wouldn’t be a disaster.
Yet it was. Paul knew Camille was disappointed. His orgasm had come too quickly, despite his attempts to delay it with random negative thoughts. After rolling off her, he’d tried to bring her to a climax with his tongue, but she’d grown frustrated with his inexperienced effort. Now Camille was in the bathroom and he wondered what he
