The Holt Building still looked too new and unreal, like it didn’t belong in the city she’d been born in. At almost a hundred stories tall, it was a monolith of dark glass and steel that cut a gash in the sky like a dagger. There was something unworldly in its fluid design. It made her both filled with awe and a bit uncomfortable.
Security was tighter than most airports. Her bags were searched, her ID was scanned, her background was checked. Her stomach lurched as the elevator sped up fifty some odd floors before hissing to a stop abruptly, there was some internal click in the mechanism under her before the elevator hurled up the next fifty stories even faster. When it reach what felt like it must be the top floor, the door slid open to a single huge room.
The elevator bay was in the center of the circular room and all the walls were made of huge windows that showed a 360 degree view of the entire city; uptown, downtown, rivers to the east and west.
The room held two huge curved conference tables, each black glass like the exterior of the building, but the surfaces winked and flashed with numbers and pictures, like giant computer monitors.
In front of her were three desks, one of them topped with a lazily spinning holographic globe, complete with real time displays of weather pattern and swirling clouds.
At the smallest of the desk sat a twenty-something looking man, handsome in a prettyish way, typing away on a very sleek looking laptop. He looked up and motioned for her to sit in the seat on the other side of his desk.
She knew he wasn’t in his twenties or even his thirties, but in fact despite his youthful appearance was somewhere north of sixty. He, like his famous brother, was a science experiment from over half a century before. A superhuman born in a test tube, nursed on cosmic radiation and a formula thats secret vanished with its creator.
Cordwainer Holt, once known as Apex, was one of the handful of super humans on Earth. She’s seen him on television in his black suit with a simple white triangle on the chest. He was the bad boy of little cadre of heroes that came together in the 80’s to defend the Earth from invaders from space.
She shook off the memories and looked the man in his familiar face. It was a face she’s swooned over as a teenage and a face most of the world held in its collective memory along with Elvis and Jesus.
“Miss Wilson, I’m a fan. Your program is one of the few I regularly watch. It’s an honor that you think I’m worthy of an interview,” he said with none of the humbleness of his words in his eyes. His voice was strong and confident, but had a musical quality to it.
She smiled tightly, unsure what to make of the man in front of her. She’d been researching him for a month since she was given the assignment and had once had his picture hanging in her high school locker. Still, shaking his hand threw her preconceptions out the very high window.
“I find it hard to believe that you don’t think you’re worthy of an interview. You’re one of the most intriguing men in the world, Mister Holt,” she said with a smile, sitting down across from him and taking out a little electronic pad to take notes on.
“Do you mind if I record us?” she said, also taking a small silver coaster shaped device out of her purse and placing it on his desk.
As the item was placed on the desk the electronics in the dark glass sprang to life. A blue glowing light encircled the device and the digits of its serial number sprang up, along with where it was made, where it was purchased, and its battery level, etc.
Cord smiled, realizing it was made by one of his own company and nodded affirmatively to her question.
“I’m here with Cordwainer Holt, inventor, entrepreneur, one time intergalactic ambassador, former member of the Vindicators, brother of Conrad Holt who is more commonly known as the superhero Virtus. Cord Holt who almost four decades ago took the name Apex and fought against super villains and alien invaders alike. Who shocked the world by hanging up his cape-” she was interrupted by an annoyed look and a cough.
“I never wore a cape,” he corrected.
She smiled and gave him an apologetic bow of her head.
“Who hung up his uniform and disappeared for five years, only to return to the world’s spotlight in a meteoric rise in the world of business and technology with his company VisCorp,” she said, looking down at her pad and scrolling through notes.
“I didn’t disappear, I went to college. I just didn’t broadcast it to ‘the world’s spotlight.’”
She gave another apologetic grin.
“Ah, so you did. You went to Yale, correct?” she said looking at her notes.
“I went to a few colleges. Yale, MIT, la Sorbonne. I was lucky to be given a few free passes and I called in a few favors. My education was compressed and eclectic,” he said with his eyes on her pad.
“Well, sure, you’re brother had just saved the world from an asteroid collision,” she said sitting back in the chair.
“I like to think I was smart too, but it helps to have a brother who is a hero,” he laughed tightly.
“You were, for a time, a hero as well, weren’t you?”
Cord looked her in the eyes for the first time. His stare was disarming. There was a fierceness and an intellect that made it hard to meet his gaze.
“You keep asking me questions you already know the answers to, Miss Holt,” he said impatiently.
She held her ground.
“This interview isn’t for my own information, it’s for the public and many of them don’t have the benefit of a research team,” she replied with a smile.
He didn’t smile.
“In my youth I was unsure of what direction I wanted my life to take. My brother and those around me adhered too a pretty binary view of life with super powers. You either became a superhero or a supervillian. I fell into the role I was expected to take,” he said with mild annoyance staining his smooth voice.
“You became a hero, though you seemed to be at odds with some of the other supers, including your brother,” she said looking at her notes.
“I was a poor hero. I didn’t understand the law and frankly I wasn’t very interested in running around the world fighting,” he looked down at his folded hands.
She wondered if he was ashamed of that, but didn’t think so.
“And the other way, did you ever think of that?” she said softly, trying not to imply anything.
“A supervillian? Not my style, not even when I was at my lowest. I eventually realized that most things, if not all things, in life are not black or white,” he said, opening his folded hands and spreading his fingers for emphasis.
“Many shades of gray?” she said writing it down as she did.
“Also a poor metaphor, there are spectrums within spectrums,” he said lifting his hands and with a sigh, rainbows bloomed out of his fingertips, expanding up and around, becoming a complex pattern of colored light.
She tried not to look impressed, but it was one of the most spectacular things she’d ever seen in person. She felt a shift in her mind and in her body, the reality of being in front of someone who had actual super powers shaking the core of her reality.
He let out a little laugh, not mocking but sort of amused by his own theatricality.
“My brother sat me down once and told me having superpowers was like owning a gun. He said ‘police have guns, bad guys have guns, but so do regular people. They use them for hunting, protection, whatever,’ and that’s how he reconciled my decision to stop wearing tights and flying around fighting other people wearing tights,” he said with a sad laugh.
“You don’t agree with his assessment?” she said still writing.
He thought about his reply, reminding himself she was recording it.
“I think my brother is an amazing hero. I think to do the work that he does he sort of has to see the world the way he does. He’s saved the world numerous times. He’s saved my life numerous times. If he asked me, if he needed me, I would help him anytime, but superpowers are not guns, they are a tools. Tools can be used from more than killing people or saving people. Again, binaries are problematic and dangerous. I knew even back then that there could be another life. It took me awhile to figure out what that life might look like, but eventually I did,” he said stretching out his arms and motioning to the office and the view.
“So you let him be the hero and you became a billionaire,” she said looking around the office again.
“By getting paid to using telepathy to help scientists around the world communicate with each other and organize their thoughts so that they could find cures and make discoveries. By using telekinesis to help construct everything from spaceships to microchips that would have taken millions or even billions of dollars to build with human or robot hands,” his said, his voice rising in volume a bit and his face becoming flushed before he caught himself and laughed again.
“I’m sorry if I was flippant. VisCorp has done remarkable things in a variety of fields. It’s arguable that you’ve done as much if not more than your brother-”
“That would be a silly argument to have. I’ll give you the answer, he’s done more. I’ve seen what he’s done personally,” Cord said passionately, though his eyes had grown cold.
The interview then turned formal. She asked the same questions many others had asked. He gave her stock answers his PR team had lovingly crafted.
When she turned of her little digital recorder and stood up he followed suit, buttoning his jacket and holding out his hand. She shook it a bit awkwardly and as he let her hand go the idea flashing in her head of him crushing her delicate fingers like one would crumple a piece of paper.
He gave her a smile, kind but dismissive, then sat and looked back at the laptop. She put her recorder and her electronic pad in her purse and turning from the man with the powers of a god and the view of Manhattan she walked back to the elevator.
Pressing the down button she felt some anxiety bubble up in her stomach. She wasn’t nervous about the interview but for some reason she was nervous leaving.
As the door opened she waited, knowing that her chance to fulfill a desire she’d had for more than a decade was about to close with the elevator door. She turned and and cleared her throat. Cord turned and looked up at her across the expanse of the office.
"Mister Holt, would you like to go to dinner with me?" She said with a lump in her throat.
"Dinner?" he said with a raised eyebrow.
There was a beat where he looked at her from across the room and she wondered what to do.
"Sex," she clarified.
"Sex?" he repeated flatly.
Her knees felt weak and she felt like an idiot. She felt like she played some card people had told her she had for years. She was beautiful, smart, passionate. She’d had creeps and friends alike tell her that sex was under her power. All she had to do was ask or even tell someone and try would fall to their knees.
She’d been voted “Sexiest Woman on Television” and she’s believed she held that like her own superpower, to use when needed. She finally played that card and got nothing but a raised eyebrow.
"Fucking. As in we go somewhere and I do anything you want me to do. Like I am your slave and suck your cock and kneel in front of you and participate in any dirty thing your four digit IQ can think of because I’ve wanted you since I was a sixteen year old girl fingering myself to pictures of you I cut out from magazines," she said, the words pouring out.
He stared at her for a full minute. She stood there, the weight of her bag pulling on her shoulder and the weight of her words pulling on her chest.
"I’m flattered, but I don’t think you’re ready for the particulars of my sex life, Miss Wilson,"
"Do you find me attractive?" she asked, her voice cracking a little.
He looked at her closely, standing up.
"As I said, I’m a fan. You are one of the most attractive women I’ve ever seen and obviously very intelligent,"
She smiled. Her confidence needed a little boast. That part of her brain that got the tough stories figured out was now working in getting Cordwainer Holt, Apex, to fuck her. The complexity of her emotions were dizzying.
"So you’re kinky? I’m kinky. You want to tie me up? I know you could kill me with a snap of your fingers but maybe you could pull back a little. Maybe you could just hurt me? If you wanted? I think I would like that."
He looked amused and perhaps even a little impressed by her sudden boldness. He folded his arms in front of his chest and measured her with his eyes.
"I’m afraid my ‘kinks’ are a bit different than that," he said, standing walking around his desk and walking halfway to her.
"You are a god, we both know that," she said looking down. "I want to worship you. You tell me how. It can be whatever you want. I just want to know. I just want to see what it’s like to be with you."
His smile faltered a bit. She was a reporter, she could read someone’s reactions. The flicker in his eyes showed that he’d had this conversation before, probably many times before.
He continued to watch her, assessing her. She felt exposed, which both electrified her and frightened her. Just being around a super powered being made her life seem small, yet being close him made her feel as if she were touching some higher power.
He opened his arms a bit and with a silence that her brain seemed to fill in with a “thwump” he lifted off the ground, more angelic than superheroic, and hovered a few feet off the ground.
He floated to her quickly, her mind unable to fully understand his movement being the she’s only seen people fly in television reports and movies.
Then he was in front of her levitating, and as much as she wanted to meet his eyes and show that she was bold and sexual and desirable, all she could do was cower and tremble in front of his power.
"You would do anything?" he whispered.
"You could take anything, you are a god," she said, surprised by the fear in her voice.
"Yes, but that’s not what we are talking about. It’s not what I can take but what you would give," he corrected.
"Anything," she breathed.
A pressure encircled her legs first and pushed them together. The movement threw her off balance and she started to fall forwards, but suddenly was stopped by an invisible force.
Then she was in the air, held by what felt like a hundred strong hands. She could hardly move and the fear gripped her, making her heart pound and her breath catch.
"I’ve been alive for a long time, Miss Wilson. I’ve seen things. I’ve met aliens, I’ve battled thinking machines, I’ve watched people sink to the lowest depths of human depravity. Still, I am not a god. I am far from a god. I am simply a man who has been given more power than most others," as he said this he used his power to pull her up higher in the air and he floated up to meet her.
"I’m not immune to your allure," he whispered in her ear, his body close to hers.
The bondage of his power made her helpless. There was something in the fact that he was stronger than even nature that aroused her in a way that was new an alien. She was scared it of her mind but turned on more than she could ever remember.
"But I have a very particular life and very particular needs," he said, moving his hand up and putting it softly on her hip.
The contact made her muscles tighten and her legs struggled to move but were bound still.
"May I touch you, Miss Wilson?" he asked politely as if asking for her to pass the salt.
"Yes, please," she hissed.
His hand moved up her side and she felt the tightness of her wrap dress give as it was slowly undone by the invisible hands that kept her in the air.
The cool air of the room made her skin prickle as the dress was opened an then removed. His hands were lazily curious, edging around her stomach, her thighs, never touching any of the places she longed for him to touch.
As her dress fell she looked out at the darkening sky beyond and wondered if anyone could see her.
He wondered if anyone except his brother could fully understand the feeling he got enveloping someone in the telekinetic fields of psychic force and anti-gravity. It wasn’t like carrying someone, exactly, but he could sense every inch of her. The weight of her body wasn’t exactly cumbersome for him, but he certainly registered all of the one hundred and some odd pounds. He felt the material of her clothes, the softness of her hair, the smoothness of her skin.
Not surprisingly he never had a conversation with his brother, who had different, but similar powers, if he’d ever experienced the sensation of knowing every inch, every cell of someone’s body.
Looking back into her eyes he felt suddenly annoyed by her clothes. With a thought the remaining bits snapped and shredded, the white debris of lace and silk spreading out in a circle under where they hovered.
“Is this what you wanted, Miss Wilson?” he asked as he drifted a few inches back and with a small smile commanded her legs to part slightly and her hands to slowly move behind her back and meet wrist to wrist.
She wanted to say yes, but fear and lust choked her.
She felt the hands made of air vibrate and twist around her. Her breasts were mashed against her chest and then pulled by the nipples out until the skin was taut. She felt the same invisible power push into her pussy, feeling like some silky smooth finger, just thick enough to hurt a little. Another point, thin and softer, pushed into her ass.
The invasion was quick, yet unlike human fingers or cocks, these invaders were smooth, agile, inhumanly powerful. Her body had no choice but to take each of them.
Levitating away a bit Cord watched with a grin at this woman, this remarkably beautiful woman who had offered herself to him, now floating naked in his office being penetrated by his power. He smiled because it was nothing. He smiled because though it was pushing past anything she could imagine it wasn’t even a fraction of what he could do.
So, with another thought, he showed her a little more.
Cord took a deep breath and opened a little door inside of himself. It was something he’d trained himself not to do. It was a hugely problematic power. It was one of the reasons he put himself fifty floors above everyone else in the building. He opened up his mind and enveloped her thoughts.
When he opened his eyes he let her see herself. He let her see herself as he saw her, with all of the lust and all of the power. He let her experience the variety of emotions that were running through him; how he thought she was beautiful and brilliant and how he’d watched her on television and read her articles in the Times and how he respected her and was impressed by her wit and intelligence and charm; how he wanted her on a primal level and how some part of him objectified her and on a base biological level and when he saw her walk into his office and just wanted to bend her over and fuck her; how he saw her hovering and bound by his psychic powers and how he reveled in the control.
Her eyes were saucers as the information bombarded her.
As the powers that penetrated her grew warm and larger and vibrated and tingled she felt her body tense and contract. He bent his head a little and watched her like a child watched insects. She saw herself coming through his eyes and she felt him take that orgasm and multiply it. She felt him do it again. She felt the orgasms have orgasms until the world was an orgasm and her senses washed over her like a wave and then like an undertow pull her into an ocean of sensations.
Then the world went black.
She awoke with her dress back on, but she was aware that her bra and panties were still gone. She was laying on on of the beautiful tables and she saw the blue alphanumerics floating around her as the computer read out her heart rate, breathing rate, brain activity.
Cord sat at the desk she laid on and tapped on his laptop. He looked up for a moment as she woke up and gave her a half smile.
“I’m having some food brought up, then I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he said in a cool business like tone.
She opened a closed her mouth a few times, unsure what to say.
“Is that how you have sex?” she asked in a whisper. For some reason she felt like she failed. She felt like he had given her the world’s most impressive pat on the back.
“No, that was just a little test,” he said looking down and opening a drawer, then coming back with something in his hand.
He placed on the desk a small black cube. It was roughly twice the size of a playing die, but smooth on all sides.
"I’m going to have to beg your pardon now, Miss Wilson, I have a matter to attend to," he said seriously, standing up and buttoning his jacket again.
“Food and water will be brought up, I highly recommend you eat and drink. Then there will be a car waiting for you downstairs, it will take you wherever you’d like,” he said picking the cube up and holding it out to her.
“When you get someplace where you will not be overheard and you have about an hour to spare, I’d like you to take a look at this. It will explain a few things about me and about what offering yourself to me would actually mean,” he said placing the cube in her hand.
“Did I pass the test?” she asked, looking into his eyes hopeful.
He thought about that, brushing his hand across her cheek. She closed her eyes and pressed her face into his palm.
“You did well, you made it to the next phase,” he said kindly.
Then he turned, as he did one of the windows suddenly slid open, cool night air blowing into the huge room. Then he shot forward into the inky blue sky, disappearing into the distance.
She was left in the room alone, holding a mysterious black cube and feeling the breeze left by the man who just psychically fucked her and flew away, creep under her dress. She was still wet and the cool air touched her between her legs, reminding her that her panties had been disintegrated.
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