The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Betrayed Downstream

by The Lycanthrope

Chapter 23 — Legal Maneuvers

Near Shelby Township, Michigan

The first thing that I did when I arrived home was realize that it was Saturday. I contacted Julie D’Ambrosio at Meyer, Paulson, and Franck and asked her why she was working on a Saturday. She said that the firm had on-call lawyers to assist their clients who had them on retainer, and she’d been on-call for several specialties, including contract law that day. I told her that there was no need for her to come into the Detroit office on Sunday. I could certainly wait until Monday to meet with her during normal business hours.

Pushing that off a day had given me time to take stock of things on Sunday. Whoever had been maintaining and updating my home and other belongings had been very thorough. I was very happy to see that my SL580 was sitting on jack-stands in the garage. There was a bound report on the driver’s seat that explained that the old gasoline engine had been removed and replaced with a modern regenerative turbine. The transmission had been upgraded to handle the greater power of the turbine, and ballast had been added in various places to return the car to it’s original balance and handling before the heavy gasoline motor had been replaced with the lighter turbine. The instruments had been updated to the metric units now used worldwide, and everything else was in perfect shape and ready to go. I lowered it to the ground and removed the jack stands.

The car wasn’t designed to handle the mechanical stresses of field reversers, nor did it have the proper aerodynamics to fly. It remained an earthbound vehicle and, as a result, it didn’t have the Silver system installed.

I wanted to hug whoever had maintained it.

No Silver System meant that I was just a moving earthbound object that vehicles with the Silver system would automatically avoid, just like they avoided people, animals, and other objects on the ground. It also meant that the SL580 couldn’t be tracked.

My basement electronics workshop still had all of my tools, including my “old school” (as the biometric scanner tech would have called them) soldering irons. Those Who Maintained Ben Lincoln’s Stuff had also added updated tools and test instruments, and they’d generously stocked my parts bins with new components that had been invented while I was in the time bubble. I briefly wondered if I’d eventually find a bill for everything that had been done to my house and car.

The house no longer seemed like the container for sad memories of love lost that it had just a week earlier. The pain I’d felt over losing Pamela had turned into determination. There would be a time of reckoning between me and Pamela.

My heart was now filled with the love I shared with seven wonderful women.

“Don’t forget the lust you got from a couple of college girls, too,” I thought.

I considered calling Tanya at the University for a moment, then decided against it. Calling Arianna was out because I wanted her to focus on her studies and not me.

Again I slept alone in my bed, and again it seemed strange.

* * *

Twenty years earlier it had taken at least 45 minutes to drive from my house to Detroit, and easily twice that if there was heavy traffic. Not so any more.

The roads were in far better shape than they’d been two decades earlier. They were the backup transportation corridors for roadables if the weather got so bad that flying was unsafe, but that didn’t happen very often. They were mainly used by the road-going behemoths they called “haulers” that transported freight that was impractical to move via lifter.

Taking advantage of the “no speed limit” status on the huge major roadways, I made it to Detroit in a little over twenty minutes. There was no question that the Saab was faster in the air, but it just didn’t create the visceral thrill that you got from screaming down a Dura-crete road in a two-seater car at over 140 miles an hour. The only vehicles on the road were haulers and the SL.

No navigation system was needed for my trip. Getting to the Jefferson Avenue down near the Detroit River was easy, and the cluster of skyscrapers that created the Renaissance Center’s signature on the city’s skyline still looked the same. Meyer, Paulson, and Franck’s offices were on the 24th floor of the 400 tower, overlooking the river. The receptionist greeted me as I entered their lobby.

“Ben Lincoln to see…”

I recognized Julie D’Ambrosio as she stepped through the glass door on the right side of the lobby.

“Hello Doctor Lincoln.”

“…Ms. D’Ambrosio,” I finished, then turned toward the lawyer. “Hello, Ms. D’Ambrosio.”

We shook hands. I was nearly 15 minutes early, so it seemed she must have been waiting for me to arrive. She had a smile that went all the way up to her soft blue-green eyes.

“I have everything ready,” she said. “Please follow me.”

Her hair was a dark honey blond, done in a French braid that hung to just below her shoulder blades. She was dressed for business in a grey jacket, white blouse, and grey knee-length skirt. She was tall in her grey two-inch heels. Without them it appeared that she’d be about the same height as Lauren—5′8″ or so. The exposed calves below her skirt were finely curved, and her rear swayed enticingly as she walked. I estimated that she was in her late 20’s or early 30’s.

She led me into a small conference room and closed the door behind us. The interior wall was frosted glass, probably for privacy. The exterior wall had a view southward down the river.

“Would you like something to drink, Dr. Lincoln?”

“No, I’m fine. And please, call me Ben.”

“OK, then I’m Julie. Please have a seat.”

I sat and she took the chair next to me. She picked up the electronic tablet that was sitting on the table.

“I know that this is all new to you, Ben, so I’ll go over everything. This is a standard contract tablet. They’re used for executing legal contracts all over the world.”

She tapped a button on the tablet and the screen lit up, displaying the words of a document. She pointed to a tiny lens at the top of the tablet.

“As you can see, the contract tablet has both the standard fingerprint scanner and this imager that can make a photo and vid record of the execution of the contract and also do retinal scans for additional verification of the identity of the persons entering into the contract, if desired. The fingerprint scan is sufficient to create a binding, legal contract, but some people prefer to use a retinal scan either in place of the fingerprint or in addition to it. Either scan is legally valid, and doing both gives you a belt-and-suspenders kind of redundancy. Doing both isn’t necessary, but some people like to anyway. Does all that make sense?”

I nodded.

“Good. Now let’s take a look at the paternity contract we’ve drawn up for you…”

She went over the contract in detail, explaining why each part was there, what the various option check-boxes were for, and what it all meant.

The contract existed because of the sad lesson I’d learned from my relationship with Pamela: Some people will lie about even the most personal, intimate things.

The contract gave me a way to protect myself from women who might be hoping to get more than just a baby from me. I didn’t know if it would ever become a problem, but Dimitri did say that being pregnant was becoming the new status symbol, and I had experience with people who craved status symbols and money. It seemed like a good idea to protect myself, my concubines, and my children from anyone who might have dollar signs in their eyes.

It was likely that I could head off any woman who wanted to try something like that just by ordering her not to do it, but I didn’t want to do that. It still felt unethical to me to be ordering women to do things against their will.

“You can also upload this to your mobile and use that to execute contracts and it will still be completely legal. The tablet makes is easier to read and it gives you the option of doing the retinal scan.”

She paused for a moment, looking at the blank fields at the bottom of the contract. She drew in a deep breath, then checked all the boxes to leave all decisions to my discretion, entered her name, and did both a fingerprint and retinal scan.

“I’ll probably lose my job for this, but I don’t care.”

She slid the tablet over to me. She was flushed and her eyes were downcast in embarrassment.

I wasn’t used to it yet, but at least I had some experience under my belt. I set the tablet aside and looked at her.

“Julie?”

Tentatively she looked at me, her cheeks still red with embarrassment.

“You want a baby?”

She nodded.

“How long have you wanted a baby?”

“Oh God!” The flush spread to her neck. “Twenty-five years,” she whispered.

“Twenty-five years?”

“Ever since I was five. I used to play tea party and I always pretended that my dolls were my babies and that my husband was off at work. I’ve wanted to be a mother ever since way back then. I can’t believe I’m telling you this!”

“It’s OK, Julie. It’s OK.

“I assume that there are client fraternization rules at the firm, and that’s why you might lose your job?”

She nodded. I picked up the tablet. Her eyes followed my every move.

“I’m not saying that I won’t give you a baby, Julie, but not like this. I’d like to talk.”

I cleared the contract, wiping out her information and biometric scans. She looked at me with tears brimming up in her eyes.

“Shh, shh. It’s OK Julie. Can we just talk first, then see whether a baby makes sense?”

She nodded and we talked. Beneath the professional facade she presented to the world, Julie was a hurt, frightened, insecure girl.

She’d married a man named Michael D’Ambrosio while she was still in law school, but the marriage hadn’t lasted more than a few months. She’d shared her desire to have children with him while they were still dating, but they both knew that children were impossible for anyone. Not too long after they’d gotten married, Michael had started becoming sullen and verbally abusive. He blamed her for their inability to conceive, even though everyone knew that the global male sterilization epidemic was the problem. Julie had tried to reason with him at first, but soon she began believing the things he was saying.

He told her over and over that she wasn’t sexy enough to make a man produce sperm. The final blow came when, less than half a year after the wedding, he announced that he was leaving to find a “real woman” who could turn him on sexually. She’d never seen him again. Their divorce had been done through lawyer proxy.

That had been six years earlier, and Julie’s fear of another abusive relationship, combined with her belief that she wasn’t sexy enough to attract a man, had kept her from even going out on a dinner date since then.

While she was talking, I’d come up with a plan.

“Please listen carefully, Julie, and only nod or shake your head until I ask you to talk, OK?”

She nodded.

“I find you to be a highly intelligent, sexy, attractive, professional lady, Julie. More importantly, I think you’re a sweet, caring, loving person who would be a good mother. I’d like to have a baby with you, Julie. Would you like that?”

She nodded vigorously, her eyes wide.

“But there’s a conflict with that when it comes to your work, right?”

She nodded.

“Please explain that conflict to me now, as professionally as you can.”

She explained the firms ethics rules and how sexual fraternization with a client was a firing offense.

“OK, now that we have that out of the way, are there any partners in this office today?”

“Mr. Schmidt should be here. He’s the senior partner at this office.”

“Then I’d like to talk to Mr. Schmidt, but first I’d like to use the restroom. While I’m doing that, maybe you could use the restroom and freshen up. You’ve just had an emotional few minutes, and I’d like you to look your professional best when we meet with Mr. Schmidt.”

She showed me to the restroom and took her purse into the adjacent ladies room. I loitered for five minutes, then washed up and went back out into the corridor. Julie was waiting for me, looking perfect. We went back to the conference room and she brought up the comms terminal on the table.

“Mr. Schmidt’s office,” said the mousey brunette who appeared on the screen.

“Hello Bridget, is Mr. Schmidt available? I have a client here in the office who would like to speak with him in person. His name is Dr. Benjamin Lincoln.”

“I’ll see if he’s available, Ms. D’Ambrosio.” The firm’s logo came up on the screen while she put us on hold for a few seconds. The logo was replaced by the image of an older man.

“Hello Ms. D’Ambrosio.”

“Hello sir. I have Dr. Benjamin Lincoln here and he’s asked to speak with you.” She deferred to me.

“Hello Mr. Schmidt.”

“Hello Dr. Lincoln. I see your name on the agenda for today’s partner vid call, and now Ms. D’Ambrosio tells me you’re here in the office. How can I help you?”

“Well, my name may be on your agenda because I recently completed a large real estate transaction through Meyer, Paulson, and Franck, but that’s not why I’m here meeting with Ms. D’Ambrosio. Would it be possible for us to meet in person for just a couple of minutes?”

“I have a few minutes free before the partner’s meeting at noon, Dr. Lincoln. Ms. D’Ambrosio, can you please bring Dr. Lincoln to my office and have Bridget let me know when you arrive?”

“Yes sir. We’ll be there in a couple of minutes.” Schmidt disconnected the call.

Julie looked at me questioningly. I smiled at her.

“Just relax and be the professional lawyer that you are every day. Everything’s going to be OK.”

I took the contract tablet and walked with Julie to the other side of the building. When we arrived, Mr. Schmidt was waiting in the outer office with his executive assistant. He stepped forward and offered his hand.

“Good to meet you, Dr. Lincoln. I’m Howard Schmidt.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Schmidt.”

“Please, call me Howard, Dr. Lincoln.”

I noticed the briefest flicker of surprise cross Julie’s face. My guess was that Howard Schmidt had done some quick research on me. Apparently doing a $71 million real estate deal through his firm in cash not only prompted him to wait for me with his assistant, it also got me on a first-name basis with him.

“Great, Howard. And please call me Ben. Dr. Lincoln sounds like I should be at a hospital.”

“Come on in, Ben,” he said, opening the door to his office.

“Actually, I’d like Ms. D’Ambrosio to join us, since this involves her.”

He nodded and we entered his office.

“Is everything OK?” Howard asked as he closed the office door behind us. He walked around behind his desk and cast a concerned look at Julie.

I held one of his guest chairs for Julie to sit, then sat in the chair next to it. Howard sat down behind his desk, still looking a little worried.

“Everything is fine. Ms. D’Ambrosio has done an outstanding job with the request I made.”

He looked relieved.

“How can I help you, then, Ben?”

“Well, it’s a bit of a personal thing, Howard. I’m guessing that you looked up my file and you know why I’m here today?”

“Yes. I must say that it’s an honor to meet you, Ben. You’re the only one of those men that I know by name, other than Clifford Harrison.”

“Thank you. And that makes it easier, since I don’t have to explain the background behind this.

“Ms. D’Ambrosio has done an excellent job of creating what basically amounts to a prenuptial agreement without the ‘nuptial’ part.”

Julie smiled briefly at my description of the contract.

“I’m not a lawyer, Howard, and all of this is unfamiliar territory for me, but she did a good job of explaining things to me. I still have some questions that I want to go over with her later about times when the contract should and shouldn’t be used, but that’s really not why I’m here to see you.

“As you mentioned, I’m one of the men who can father children. There’s a good chance that I’m well on the way to having several children already, but it’s an ongoing thing. One thing that’s important to me is the mothers of my children. I’ve been selective in that area, and there are certain qualities that I want in a lady who will have and raise my child.”

Both Howard and Julie gave me looks of curiosity.

“Among those attributes are intelligence, honesty, competence, and professionalism. I want the mothers of my children to be good mothers to those children, you see. Basically I want my kids raised right. I realize that I’m not going to be able to find women with those qualities quickly enough to keep up with the rate at which I need to make babies, and that’s why I wanted this contract drawn up. But when I do find someone who is exceptional, I’m likely to pursue a procreative relationship with her.

“Now I apologize in advance to Ms. D’Ambrosio for intruding upon her personal privacy here, but it can’t be helped. While working with her, I found her to have those attributes in abundance, and I asked her if she would have a child with me.”

Howard looked at me in surprise.

“Now, just to prove that I was right about her professionalism, the first words out of Ms. D’Ambrosio’s mouth after I asked her were a detailed explanation about your firm’s ethics and conduct rules regarding fraternization with clients.”

I turned to look at Julie.

“You didn’t say either ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ and I’m not asking you to do that now. I’ve exposed more than enough of your personal matters already. I don’t want to presume on anything, Ms. D’Ambrosio, and I’d rather that we finish that discussion in private.”

“Of course, Dr. Lincoln.” She kept the cool, professional demeanor I’d asked her for. I looked back at Howard.

“My problem is that I’ve found someone who meets my requirements, but I cannot pursue a procreative relationship with her because doing so could get her fired from her job. That would be unfair to her.

“I completely understand the reasons behind your ethics rules, Howard, and I agree with them. But given the recent developments regarding procreation, I wonder if it might make sense to make occasional exceptions in cases where perhaps a greater good would be served. And if an exception were made in this case, Ms. D’Ambrosio could make a rational decision free of any outside encumbrances. I understand where it might make her ineligible to counsel me on legal matters, and I accept that, but it makes sense to me for you to make exceptions to the policies when those exceptions are warranted. Does it make sense to you, too?”

He looked at me with curiosity for a moment.

“Are you sure you’re not a lawyer, Ben?”

“Nope. If you want to talk math or physics, I’m your guy, but I know very little about law.”

“You present your case like a lawyer.”

“Ah. I presented my case based on logic. I’m pretty good at logic.”

“Well done. And I do agree with you. I’m going to mention this when your name comes up on the agenda at the partner’s meeting in…” he glanced at the antique clock on his desk, “…just a few minutes. And I’m going to advocate for exceptions to be made in situations like this.”

“Thank you, Howard. I don’t know if it will be of any help, but I’ve heard that pregnancy is becoming something of a status symbol. Meyer, Paulson, and Franck has offices all over the country, and it’s likely that there are men like me in some of those locations. Maybe there would be some value to the firm in being able to say that your employees are helping to create the next generation and save humanity.”

“Indeed there may, Ben. I’ll be sure to mention that.”

We all stood, and he shook hands with both myself and Julie.

“Thank you both for bringing this to my attention.”

We exited Howard Schmidt’s office and I followed as Julie walked rapidly back to the conference room. She closed the door behind us and then turned to face me.

“Yes! Of course yes! Yes, yes, yes!”

“Let’s not jump the gun here, Julie. The partners probably haven’t even heard the proposal yet.”

“I don’t care what the partners say; I’ll quit my job if I have to, I just want to have your baby. You’re a crazy, wonderful man, Ben. I can’t believe you just did that!”

“Did you think it was unreasonable?”

“No, it’s just… I don’t know. I could never do that. I’ve been a junior associate for four years and I should be moving up to full associate soon. The senior partners don’t even know I exist. But you walk down there and Mr. Schmidt is waiting for you outside his office and asking you to call him Howard! What kind of real estate deal did you do?”

“I bought an apartment complex in San Diego County.”

“That must be some apartment complex.”

“863 units at the moment, but I’m going to be renovating it and that number will change.”

Julie looked at me in surprise.

“That’s HUGE! In San Diego that must have gone for at least $65 million!”

“$71 million, actually.”

“So you must have put down over $14 million to make the bank happy, plus all of the transfer taxes. That’s a pile of money. No wonder Mr. Schmidt was so friendly!”

“Actually, um, there was no bank. I paid cash for it.”

The unique blue-green color of Julie’s eyes really stood out when they were wide in shock.

“You… you paid $71 million in cash?”

“Yes. Plus the transfer taxes and other fees, including your firm’s fee, of course. In total it came to $73.6 million. It put a pretty big dent in my bank account. Come to think about it, I should talk to someone about selling some stocks I have.”

“A dent? A DENT?!? Who are you, Ben Lincoln?”

“I’m just a guy who thinks you’re a beautiful, sexy lady who would look stunning in pregnancy, Julie.”

“Unh-unh, you’re not getting away with that, Dr. Lincoln!”

She sat down at the terminal and did some quick searching. A couple of minutes later she sat back and shook her head, as if to clear it.

“My God! No wonder you wanted a baby contract! $27.2 billion?!?”

“Really? The stock must have gone up again. Last I heard I was at about 26.4 or so.”

“If Mr. Schmidt had seen this, HE probably would have asked to have your baby!”

“Nah, he’s not my type. I go for the sexy associate lawyer type.”

Julie laughed.

“So were you planning on telling me about all of this at some point?”

“Actually, I was hoping to tell you about it over dinner, if things work out with your employers and if you’re available.”

“I’m available, Ben. No matter what they say, I’m available.”

* * *

I had a light lunch at one of the many restaurants in the center tower of the original Renaissance Center and spent some time looking around. The architecture was unchanged, but I didn’t recognize the names of half of the shops in the Ren Cen.

I’d promised Julie dinner, and I wanted it to be something more special than a restaurant in the Center that she’d probably been to a dozen times, so I set out to find a place for dinner. I could have used my mobile to find a place, but I wanted to walk around and see how Detroit had changed since I’d left.

I exited the Ren Cen complex to the south and almost immediately regretted it. A cold, raw wind was blowing off the river, seeming to promise a harsh winter. I was still determined to look around this part of the city, so I pulled my coat tighter around me and started walking down the river toward the civic center.

The parks along the river were nicer than I remembered, and the civic center had been modernized, but still retained the same distinctive architecture with the round sports arena next to the water and the much larger rectangular hall behind it.

When I got to the sports arena I turned to my right, away from the river and the biting cold wind. This section of the city had always been home to restaurants that thrived on the concert and convention crowds from the civic center and the hotel guests at the Ren Cen who wanted to try something other than the in-house restaurants. I hoped that I could find something suitable for dinner with Julie there.

I walked up Shelby Street, reminded of the amazing lady I’d left behind in San Diego. The restaurants were still there, offering Chinese, Italian, and Indian cuisine. There was even one Greek restaurant, though I suspected that the real place to go for Greek food was still the Greektown area of the city, around Monroe Street.

When I got to the corner of Shelby and West Congress Street, I stopped dead in my tracks. It appeared that a historic Detroit institution had been resurrected. The sign over the triple doors said ”New London Chop House.” The original London Chop House had been a destination restaurant for the rich and famous for decades before succumbing to the economic woes of the late 1980’s and closing down. I’d heard stories of the legendary service, atmosphere, and astronomical prices at the Chop House, but it was long gone before I ever had a chance to try it.

If the resurrected restaurant was anything like the original, then I’d found my dinner restaurant.

I walked to the doors and was met with a level of service that must have met the standards of the original. A doorman opened the door for me with a cheerful greeting, and immediately inside a girl offered to take my jacket and check it for me. I declined her offer, since I was only on a scouting mission, and I descended the stairs into dark-paneled luxury.

I spoke to the maitre d’ at the stand near the bottom of the stairs and learned that the restaurant had been there for nearly two years, having been started by the grandchildren of three employees at the original. Their goal was to equal or exceed the standards of the original Chop House. She said that their efforts had been well-received, and the restaurant had been getting rave reviews.

I looked over a menu (which was printed and bound, rather than the electronic tablets that had become the standard at restaurants) and decided that Julie and I could find something delicious for dinner from their list of offerings. I put in a reservation for the two of us, giving both of our names, as the maitre d’ requested. She asked if we had any special dietary restrictions or if we wanted the chefs to make any dishes that were not on the menu.

I pulled out my mobile and called Julie.

“Hi Ben. Still no word from Mr. Schmidt.”

“I’m sure he’ll let you know when he knows. I’m actually calling to see if you have any dietary restrictions or if there’s anything special you’d like for dinner.”

“No restrictions, no allergies, and I can find something to eat anywhere we go.”

“OK. I have us down for six o’clock. You said you needed some time to get to your place and back, right?”

“Yes. Six should be fine. Where do you want to meet?”

“I’ll meet you right back where you are. We can go together from there.”

“So it’s a secret where we’re having dinner?”

“Not a secret, but maybe a surprise.”

“OK, I’ll just have to trust your judgement, Ben. I’ll call if I hear anything back from the partners.”

We disconnected and I let the maitre d’ know that we had no special requirements for dinner.

* * *

I passed the time exploring the shops for a few blocks around the Ren Cen, eventually ending up at the University library to look up the particulars on some of the new electronic goodies I now had in my home workshop. When I left the library, I immediately decided that the cold wind had become too extreme for me to continue walking around. I hurried back to the Ren Cen, trying my best to keep warm. I was just entering the mall area in the center tower when Julie called.

“Hello Julie.”

“Hi Ben. It’s quitting time, and there’s still no news. I guess I’ll… Hold on… Can I call you back?”

“Sure.”

She disconnected and I spent the next five minutes warming up in the indoor shopping area. She called back.

“They approved it!” She said in an excited whisper. “Mr. Schmidt came over to my office himself to tell me that the partners voted to allow special dispensations in circumstances like this, and one has been entered into my personnel file for me and you. I checked my file and it’s there, Ben! We can have a baby!”