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Omega's Mindscape - Ethan


Ethan was surprised at Lorie's refusal. She was a sweet, complaint woman. Exceptionally bright, but shy. Overly so. She did not like to stand in the spotlight and would do anything to avoid attention, but she had held his attention for quite a while already nevertheless. 

Lorie's refusal cemented his conviction something was very wrong. He needed to step in and take control. She might refuse to talk to him at this moment, but that was going to change. Soon. 

She might be under the impression she was just his employee. She wasn't. 

She was his.

He stepped back and leaned against his desk, giving her some space.

"This is how it's going to be. You are going to report directly to me so I can keep a close watch on your work."

He almost smiled as her eyes grew large. His little Lorie was in for a surprise.
"What?" Lorie blurted out. Her face flamed red. "I.. report my work directly to you?"
He nodded. "Yes. Directly to me."
"But Mr. Rydell expects me to.."
"Don't worry about your supervisor. He works for me, remember?" He gave her a little smile. "Meet me here at five o'clock." 
Ethan watched Lorie walk out of his office and wondered what the hell he was getting himself into. She was the complete opposite of the women he'd been with before, looks and demeanor. He usually fucked self-confident, blond, long legged, curvy girls, all ready and very willing. And most of the time, those blonds weren't exactly bright. 
Lorie was tiny, with auburn hair she always wore in a long braid. Her hazel eyes were large in her small face. The clothing she wore, hid everything what lay beneath. He wanted to unwrap her, reveal her. Touch her.
And she was smart. Extremely so. The things she had been working on before she started slipping, were brilliant. Damn. He might even fall in love with her mind. He sat down at his desk. He needed a plan. He had to curb the urge to spank her until she told him what troubled her.


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Stenenkring Lopend door het landschap van vroeger - over uitgesleten paden - vergeet ik heel even wat nu is, wat mogelijk komt of nooit zal komen. De wachters, ze wachten. Zwijgend aanschouwen ze de jaren, de eeuwen die voorbij gaan. Ze staan, getekend door de tijd. Nietig, in de wetenschap dat ik verdwijn en geen spoor zal achterlaten van mijn zijn, betast ik hen en verwonder me. Wij tellen, maar vertellen niet meer. Berekeningen gemaakt door machines, nauwkeurig vastgelegd; te vroeg, te laat tot op de seconden. We zien met ons verstand. We bouwen, breken af en vergeten.   Zij staan nog steeds geschakeld, in een kring van verloren betekenis. Ik luister, ik streel ze, ik heb ze lief.