Page 13 of Technical Advances

Like a murder mystery, the big reveal was tagged on at the very end of the employment contract, in a separate document labeled “Addendum A.” The attachment included not only my salary information but details on the profit-sharing agreement. The salary was fairly generous, somewhat above what my research had told me starting salaries for someone in my field would be.

Relative to Project Orthos, New Day Tech would hold the patent, but I would net thirty-five percent of any income derived from the project. The last page of the addendum made a point of defining income as all monies made from the project and not just net after expenses. It seemed very generous to me, and it wasn’t even something I would have thought about. I did some research on profit-sharing agreements and determined that, short of holding the patent either solely or jointly with Anson or New Day, it was a pretty impressive agreement for an entry-level employee, even one who held a PhD. I was excited enough to be working for New Day Tech, and I would have said yes to a job there under almost any circumstance. Holding a stake in the success of Project Orthos was just icing on the cake.

I e-signed the agreement, then began talking to myself, or to my computer screen, I guess.

“Yeah. Nope!” I thought out loud. “Any circumstance. I can’t think of one thing that would make me say no to working at New Day Tech.” A small image danced around the back of my head. “Yeah, well, maybe just the one circumstance?”

What if the famous, older icon had thrown me down on that conference table instead of sitting at it and working with me?

Could I have said yes to working with the man if he’d asked me to be his assistant after having his way with me on that shiny cherry surface? I couldn’t stop myself from picturing it. He’d slid that folder to the center of the table. What if, instead of replacing it with the tablet, he’d shoved me until my back was flat on the surface, him hovering over me. He would have removed my glasses, and I’d have pulled the band from his hair before opening my legs and grasping his neck until our lips were fused, his weight on me completely, my legs tight around his waist, my hips thrusting and seeking.

“Want you,” he’d have begged, but there would have been no need for begging. We would have scurried to remove our clothes, me cursing the tie and many, many buttons on my dress shirt. In a fantasy, there’s no need for more words, no need for further understanding, and no need for supplies.

I imagined a thick cock, hard and ramrod straight. With me spread out naked before him, Anson would have wasted no time, entering me and pounding into me, his arms resting near my head, keeping him upright so I could look into those eyes, those sparkling blue eyes, focused only on me, on us, his hair a curtain around his face. I would have wrapped my bare legs tight again, pulling him in, pulling him close, giving me the leverage to rock and thrust along with him. I pictured his eyes going wide at the sensation and me moaning as Anson fucking Day found that spot inside of me that would have had me arching toward him on that sleek table.

“Shit, fuck, so good,” I would have screamed, then, remembering where we were, “Fuck, someone might hear.”

“Don’t care,” he would have huffed before he roared, arching back himself as he came deep inside me, my eyes locked on him and his pleasure as my own orgasm shot though me, almost as an afterthought.

Holy fucking shit.

I ran to the bathroom, started the shower, and imagined the whole damn scene again, coming quickly and more forcefully than I remembered doing in a long time.

“Holy fucking shit. Let’s hope I got that out of my system.” I dried off and went back to my computer, laughing at the notion that Anson Day wanted anything more from me than my expertise.

I was overwhelmed at my good fortune at procuring the job I had dreamed of since my tween years. Whatever other fantasies I may have had about New Day Tech and its owner were silly dreams of my youthful past and nothing I needed to focus on as I geared up to graduate and start my career. My dick may not have gotten that message just yet, but I would just have to work on it.

“Enough of these silly notions!” I said to my computer as I powered it up to find confirmation that I had accepted the position of research assistant at New Day Technologies. “Can’t think those thoughts anymore, Benji. Anson fucking Day is your fucking boss. He can’t be your youthful fantasy anymore, no matter what it might look like if that ponytail of his came undone while he hovered over you.” Nope! Nope! Nope! I stood up quickly and stormed to my apartment’s little kitchenette, focusing on the task at hand and not the fantasies I should have left behind in my adolescence.

I freshened up my cup of coffee that had gone cold, then called my dad.

“Wow! They offered you a job just like that? That’s amazing, kiddo.” My dad did not sound amazed. “But …” Whatever Dad was about to say, he pivoted. It was clear in his tone as he instead went with, “But Boston?” that he had some issue with my accepting the job. I assumed it had to do with me staying on the East Coast since that’s what he asked.

“Son, are you sure you want to stay in that city? You’d barely even seen snow before you moved there.”

“I don’t mind the cold, Dad. I’ve enjoyed my time here. This job is a dream come true for me. Oh! And I met your old friend Anson. He’s incredible, Dad. So smart. And get this, he’s working on an exoskeleton too! It was … it was just incredible to be in the same room as him. To watch him work. To work with him! We’re going to be partnering on the project. I’m not supposed to go into too much detail, but I’m going to be his personal research assistant. Dad, can you believe it?”

“I’m excited for you, kiddo.” Yeah, Dad sounded the exact opposite of excited. “But are you saying your work, your dissertation is going to be a project at New Day Tech? Like, they own your project now? Is that … is that how these things work?” Dad sounded skeptical and more than a little concerned.

“I mean, yes, that’s the gist of what I signed.”

“You signed something already?” Shit, my dad sounded really distraught. I hated upsetting him, so I tried to play it off.

“Yeah. I had to sign a bunch of documents in order to accept the job. Part of the agreement was sharing my work. I’m really not supposed to say too much …”

“Why is that, son?” I thought about it. Dad sounded suspicious, but there was no reason for him to be.

“Because of competition or whatever. That’s why I can’t talk about it. We don’t want someone pilfering our ideas or going to market before us.”

“Us.” The word hung heavily over the 5G network though I wasn’t entirely sure why my father sounded so apprehensive.

“Anson and me, Dad!”

Softly, I heard my dad repeat the name, “Anson.”

“It was so amazing! We compared notes on our projects, and then we just started pulling it all together. Our projects were so similar, and our work … it just fit together like toy building bricks clicking into place. He’s so smart, Dad, and so amazing. I know I said that already, but it’s Anson Day!” I continued to gush, hoping my dad would get on board and be happy for me too.

Instead, he slowly repeated, “You shared your project with him? All that work you’ve been doing at MIT; you just handed it over?”