Kate Educates Jacob #3
Truth
I straightened myself up in the corridor and knocked on Kate’s office door for the second time in a day, exactly one minute before due.
“Come in and shut the door, Jacob.”
Kate smiled at me while I stood in front of her like a tool that someone hadn’t put away.
“Sit.”
She compelled me to obey using her pencil as a magic wand, stroking it sharply downwards. I considered if it might be a test to see whether I would arrogantly help myself to the seat before her invitation. I brimmed with paranoia, and the tension of the moment echoed off her blank walls, reverberating through my soul.
She studied me carefully, scanning, then processing my body language, using her inane female DNA based lie detection algorithm. I was at a disadvantage in every sense and felt frustrated while weirdly comforted at the same time.
Kate was frighteningly intuitive, devastatingly beautiful, and with an incisive intellect.
I’m fucked!
Nobody frightened me ordinarily, but I wanted to run now.
“You look worried.”
There was no fooling Kate.
“I’m disappointed. With myself, I mean.”
“That’s a good start, Jacob. I’m impressed.”
She seemed optimistic, never averting her stare or even blinking. I became aroused again; I didn’t understand why and didn’t like it either.
Kate was pushing me too far onto my back foot and I wanted to come out fighting again. I wondered if she had a magic spray that had stripped me of my defences when I walked through the corridor outside.
“I served for nine years in the Royal Marines, and that’s the gap in my CV.”
I couldn’t think what else to add, so my mouth mimicked a goldfish blowing bubbles. Her blue pools of truth serum calmly compelled me to honesty, but mine was a complicated story that led to my deepest and darkest desires and problems.
“I can’t bear to watch you suffer any longer, Jacob.”
A sympathetic expression flashed across her face.
“When I Googled you, I found out something interesting.”
She turned over a sheet of A4 paper, orientating it to a landscape perspective for me to study it properly. My heart skipped a beat when my past crashed into the room like a road traffic accident.
I was in the middle of a photograph, surrounded by twenty other Royal Marine comrades. We wore combat uniform, camouflage cream disguised our faces to break silhouette, and we held our rifles tucked into the shoulder, posing like film stars.
“It’s me in Afghanistan, how did you find that picture?”
I studied the image, recalling good and bad times with a sick churning in my stomach that gripped my nerves, twisting them every possible way.
“You don’t have a social media profile, which impressed and intrigued me in equal measure. At first, you were difficult to track down until I searched for images. A friend you served with has tagged your name in this one, see?”
She tapped the photograph exactly on my image with a slender finger and perfectly painted nails.
“Once I discovered you’d been in the British military, I knew you’d lied somewhere on your CV, but wasn’t sure of the extent or reason behind it.”
“Shit.”
The word ‘lie’ felt like a six-inch nail being driven through my kneecap with Kate wielding the hammer.
“I don’t like foul language, Jacob, so let’s dispense with your potty mouth right away.”
She scolded me, but not embarrassingly, except for my erection, that was rapidly becoming full-blown beneath clasped hands that pushed it back down into my lap.
Why the fuck is she having this effect, it’s never happened before?
“I messaged the guy who posted this photograph online. He was very easy to track down.”
She shot me a wry smile, and we both knew what she meant. Veterans frequently posted photos of their time in combat to impress others and hook dates. Most of my old friends enthusiastically welcomed a social media message out of nowhere from a girl, with its potential for a notch on the bedpost.
I squirmed uncomfortably in the hard wooden chair. It was impossible to know where Kate was going with her gentle interrogation, so I remained glued to the spot, intrigued, but in fear of revealing my arousal.
Get rid of the hard on and run like fuck, Jacob.
The military had trained me in ‘conduct-after-capture’ tactics, but they said nothing about how to defend against beautiful women getting inside your head.
“Is it too late for me to just give my name, rank, and number?”
Kate chuckled, and I felt pleased having lifted the mood in her office.
“I called your friend using WhatsApp and once he began talking, I couldn’t shut him up. I was glad we were thousands of miles apart because he was leveraging for a date and I don’t do that with people like him.”
My heart sank again, and I wondered what she meant. Perhaps she was celibate, preferred girls or didn’t like men, or just not English men.
Oh dear, there’s fuckery afoot!
She waited while I processed the evidence she’d found. Kate was careful not to rush me into saying something dumb. Eventually, after a minute, perhaps two, she leaned forward and gazed into my eyes with absolute admiration.
“He told me you were the best of them. The best soldier, most decorated hero, everyone’s best and most reliable friend.”
I felt my self esteem boosted and slightly surprised that Kate seemed impressed. The room tension level diminished slightly, but I definitely wasn’t out of the woods.
“That was nice of him.”
I mumbled, unsure if her kindness meant I was off the hook or about to leap from the frying pan into the fire.
“He also claimed the ladies wanted you the most. I can understand why though, because you’re rather pleasing on the eye.”
Oh fuck, Kate. So are you!
I blushed and felt mortified, although it was awkward when she drilled down to the bottom of my life’s root canal without anaesthesia.
“It’s all stories,” I mumbled.
“Your Victoria Cross medal isn’t just a story, though, is it?”
She leaned back, melting her luscious form into the plush leather of her executive chair, making me increasingly conscious of my uncomfortable disadvantage. Kate left her question hanging over me like a sword of Damocles, while drumming her nails gently off the table.
She waited a full minute before dropping her pointed blade into my soul.
“I thought you committed to being honest with me. Am I wasting my time on you, Jacob?”
Oof, that’s fucking harsh!
On reflection, she sounded strict rather than harsh, warning that my chance for redemption might pass but hadn’t yet.
Kate had me trussed up like a turkey on Thanksgiving. Her tone and choice of words were delivered to make me realise last chance saloon had little booze remaining and she was bartending.
I must choose. Am I all in or running away.
My heart pounded and my throat felt parched. I noticed my hands were cold, a natural reaction where my brain had directed all blood resources to the legs for fleeing.
“I promise, I haven’t lied to you here now and I’m trying to think of what to say, but it’s difficult to answer.”
I didn’t like liars either, which was part of the reason I was being so hard on myself.
“Then why not tell me the full story? How does a war hero, a man with nothing but commendations for nine years of service in the Royal Marines and three rapid promotions, end up lying on his CV?”
She asked her question calmly, demanding an answer.
Hmm, fair question.
“It’s not a simple answer, Kate. I’m sorry.”
“Take your time, but please explain. I’ve read your Victoria Cross citation, by the way.”
I thought about my response for a few minutes while she eyeballed me. In my mind, I was pretty sure she had me naked in her crosshairs with no cover or place to run. Kate fell silent and her stony face could have won any poker hand in the worst draw possible.
She never lost eye contact with me, didn’t blink, and continued smiling pleasantly. It was the most erotic moment I could ever remember. I was in Kate’s bubble; she controlled my universe, and I was at her mercy. She knew it, and I saw the faintest glint of desire in her eyes, which spurred me on to be a better man.
I think you like me. I hope you do.
The fire inside me burned when I recalled my life and military career. The nightmares I’d had of the enemy lying dead returned. Memories of twisted and burned corpses littering the tunnels and caverns of Tora Bora, in Afghanistan for miles, came flooding back and I recoiled.
“Are you okay, Jacob?”
She detected that I’d become flustered, so I quickly composed myself.
“I’m fine, just need a minute, please.”
“Take all the time you want.”
Her tone was soft and her expression compassionate.
During my deployments, snipers and dismounted infantry killed hundreds of insurgents by stealth and sheer bloody-minded barbaric will. Special forces patrols I’d led probed deepest into the caves, eliminating unsuspecting Taliban awake or sleeping. I’d waded through rivers of blood and didn’t know how to reveal that to anyone.
My military career conflicted me. Combat hadn’t destroyed my will to continue. It was my private life that damaged me, sucking away my soul. It was the reason Kate hadn’t easily found me on social media, because I’d paid to have everything removed, blocked or trapped under layers of anonymity.
If she's read the medal citation, there’s nothing left to hide about my career.
I bowed my head and reminisced aloud.
“We’d been in Tora Bora for a week when the call came from a patrol further into the cave system. The enemy had waited in ambush, and our comrades needed help. I took the initiative and got to them first. Enemy fire had injured and trapped a few from the other patrol. I was the Platoon Sergeant and didn’t want to risk my lads, so I went alone, crawled into the enemy’s arc of fire and dragged four wounded marines to safety. Our commanding officer wrote up my citation the next day, and it was on the Secretary for Defence’s desk that afternoon.”
“You’re a hero?”
“Some people think so.”
“What do you think?”
“I wanted to save my friends.”
“That’s better, absolute honesty will get you what you most desire, Jacob.”
She looked kind and my head flooded with a myriad of confusing thoughts. I processed what she’d said; it aroused me, but I was terrified I’d misunderstood her, so I kept quiet while my brain overheated.
“Take your time.”
She must have seen dilemma writ large across my face because Kate tried to calm me. We’d reached a crucial point where I could either go all in and win the pot or bluff my way to losing everything.
Three loud knocks broke our silence, rescuing me from the tyranny and freedom of honesty.
Tiffany opened the door without permission and I winced for her sake, knowing it was a mistake.
“You have a visitor outside, Kate.”
“We’ve discussed this before, Tiffany. Don’t interrupt me when I’m interviewing. You know what happened last time.”
I was stunned when Tiffany’s chin hit the floor. Terror was suddenly etched into her expression, replacing an arrogant demeanour that vanished quickly. I felt sorry for the spiteful bitch.
“Sorry, Kate.”
She looked contrite, backed off, closing the door quickly and silently. Kate’s attention reverted to her target, me, and she shrugged her shoulders, looking mildly agitated as though swatting an annoying fly.
“She’s eager for your demise.”
“I know, and I don’t understand why.”
“You dated someone who wasn’t a match. What did you expect?”
“I can’t argue with that, but why is she so terrified of you?”
“I’ll deal with her if need be. Let’s focus on you and sorting this problem out.”
We settled back into our chess game, each contemplating their next moves in defence or attack. Ignorance and hostility would get me nowhere except a shove out of the door. I figured Kate deserved an honest answer, having not ejected me already.
“People become curious, you know? About Iraq, Afghanistan, combat, the Victoria Cross medal and other things too. They probed me like an inquisition might. Mostly, I knew their curiosity was innocent, but when people intrude too far, it becomes painful.”
I paused, while Kate remained silent, unwavering in her quest for the whole truth. Our situation felt odd, almost like my opening up to her was a catharsis and something I desired intensely. I’d never shared my full story, not even with therapists who’d told me I couldn’t recover from post-traumatic stress disorder if I didn’t tell them why I felt so distraught.
“They drag the horrors out for their entertainment, forcing me to relive it over and over. It’s relentless and painful.”
My erection was full blown and felt very uncomfortable. If Kate knew it, then she preserved my dignity, saying nothing. I sat peacefully in her bubble, replaying the trauma of my life while figuring out what to say and how to describe the sequence of events. Her patience was incredible, and my desire for her was almost off the charts.
When I remembered fallen comrades, tears welled in my eyes, and sympathy flickered through her expression. Kate opened her desk drawer, removing a box of tissues. Selecting a few, she stood up and came to my side, stooping down to dry my eyes gently.
Her long, silken hair wafted near my face, comforting me with its touch and her scent.
When she left me a tissue and went back to her chair I felt a twinge of loss.
“I lost many friends and saw so many horrors. There was a tsunami of media interest in me after the medal parade and it’s really intrusive stuff. They start off with your main story, in my case, it was the medal citation and its background, using what they can discover through casual interviews. Next, they investigate your life, talk to family and friends, always trying to extend the shelf life of their story, hunting for gossip.”
“Was there a scandal in your life?”
“None, eventually my story dissolved into their archives and the reporters vanished.”
“What happened then? What has upset you so much?”
“It was the women, and sometimes the guys, whose fascination with me drove them into my life. They were the final straw. Each one dissected my personal life, and every date tried to get inside my head, convinced they could fix me.”
“Were you broken? You don’t have to answer that question if you don’t want to.”
“Definitely not by combat.”
I deliberately didn’t answer her question directly, but it wasn’t a lie. I wasn’t sure if I was broken and even less certain how much to share, because Kate was closing in on my pain.
“Date nights were awful. I know it seems funny, but I’d rather take on the Taliban than go out with another woman like Tiffany. At least you knew who the enemy was when fighting in mountains and caves.”
She chuckled, and I saw the funny side of it too, although my heart wrenched in pain.
“I invested in every date. If a relationship developed, it was short-lived and after break-up, I became the focus of gossipers.”
“I don’t understand why.”
“Gossiping about me drove social media traffic and most of those doing it didn’t let the truth impede their story.”
“Were none of them genuine, romantic dates?”
“They wouldn’t reveal anything, so I knew nothing about these people who suddenly wanted dinner, a revelation they could tweet and sex for their online story. I went along with it, although shame followed later. They were bagging me, like a mountain peak, or as if I were a trophy to admire in a moment and then move on to their next experience. It would have suited a lot of my friends, but the effect was catastrophic to me.”
I expected Kate to say something, but she remained silent, thoughtful and still laser focused on me as if there was an answer somewhere inside she hadn’t got yet. Her expression suggested a friendly affection, but I knew the woman demanded more.
“I never got what I wanted from a single relationship. Can you imagine?”
“Actually, yes, I can, but what were you looking for?”
Kate seemed genuinely interested in me, and it buoyed my self-esteem while I bobbed in a sea of self inflicted despair.
“I wanted something else, something vastly more meaningful.”
That was as much as I could tell her, because the conversation was moving too close to my darkness.
I waited, but she used a classic sales tactic of absolute silence; her pitch was done, and she wanted to close the deal.
She wants more.
Fuck… what do I do?
Please say something, Kate.
I had to break the silence.
“The memories of combat are deeply personal, many are good, others bad, and some outright horrific. I don’t enjoy baring my soul to people that I have no feelings for or any meaningful connection with. To be honest, I couldn’t take the constant pestering and digging around for morbid stories. I find the idea that combat broke me to be ludicrous and offensive. It was those idiots and their fascination with the macabre that broke me. I changed my phone number three times because women pursuing dates with me actually passed it around like I was a great hooker. Some even sent me nude images as their introduction.”
“Are you broken?”
She asked me for the second time. I considered her question carefully, but I felt provoked by it.
“No.”
“Why did you say you are, then?”
“I didn’t.”
“You said it was those idiots that broke you and you didn’t answer the question fully, which means you aren’t sure.”
My god how does she fucking process this stuff?
“Other people think I’m broken.”
“I don’t think you are, and neither should you. It feeds the narrative that you say is wrong.”
“Thank you.”
I smiled and calmed down.
“When enough Tiffany’s treat you like a selfie moment, you begin to wonder.”
“Is that why you left the Royal Marines? Because of the harassment?”
“Anonymous women invited me to at least three WhatsApp groups every week for months. I left the Royal Marines to run away from them. On a hundred dates, I couldn’t find a single meaningful relationship. Then I headed over here and tried to wipe out the past.”
“I’ll admit you were difficult to find. I can’t imagine any of your past dates tracking you to this rental car company.”
“I lied to you Kate and I can’t tell you how sorry I am for that.”
I left myself at her mercy, completely disarmed. It was time to move on or get fired. I was intensely uncomfortable having bared more of my soul than I’d wanted to.
“So you bottle everything up instead?”
“I don’t think so.”
Where is she going with this?
“Who do you share your past troubles with? Family? Friends? A girlfriend perhaps?”
I searched for the truth in my mind, knowing she’d catch any lie.
“Nobody, I can’t seem to do it. Can’t share any of it.”
I maintained eye contact, even though she must have seen the sadness weighing me down.
“I don’t have anyone that could understand.”
“Have you had no-one to confide in, ever?”
“Nobody I trust. Nobody who fits with me in the right way.”
I shifted uncomfortably in a chair that had numbed my ass.
“Things are different back home. We make less of a fuss about our military than you do here. I find it overwhelming, and wanted to fit in rather than stick out. If it was tough in the UK, can you imagine what it might be like here if people knew my true story?”
“If Tiffany knew you’d won that medal, she’d have been much worse after you rejected her.”
I nodded my head.
She knows about my date with Tiffany but hasn’t judged me.
“That’s why I don’t share.”
“You’ve just shared with me.”
Kate smiled sweetly and it felt like she hit me in the face with a brick. She was right, I’d just unloaded my soul as never before. I was being manipulated by a genius, and it confused me. I felt surprised at how she’d unpacked my feelings, like a surgeon rooting around carefully inside their patient.
Why did I share so much?
Our situation became more tense, not unlike a game of chess. She was a queen, with a winning play, and I was a pawn with no moves left. My continued arousal was a disadvantage, but I couldn’t help myself because Kate had a toolbox of mannerisms and expressions that made me want her more.
“I understand why you don’t share. Veterans share much more here. Although some who saw intense action, and lost friends, can’t or won’t. Much like you, actually.”
“What happens next, please, Kate?”
I wanted to shift our discussion onto the consequences of my lie and the future rather than immerse any further in my past.
“If I’m to be fired, I’d rather it was sooner than later.”
Her expression became troubled.
“Do you think it’s fair for you to push me into deciding how to deal with this before I’m ready?”
“Oh, god no it’s not. I didn’t mean to be pushy.”
I regretted my arrogance and wondered how I’d got so brash without reason.
“It’s okay, I can see you’re under duress, Jacob.”
She reviewed my CV, reading between its lines, inserting missing content of my employment history.
“I can’t abide liars Jake, there is no place for them here, but I want to help you.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push, this all feels very uncomfortable, and I’d like to move on.”
“We all want to move on, but that only happens if I deal with this situation correctly.”
She unlocked her eyes from mine and studied me from head to toe, pausing at my groin. My bulging cock was obvious, although I tried to cover it, nestling both hands in my lap and pressing down.
She stared for a moment longer than might be casual.
Fuck, is she sizing up my dick?
Kate looked back at my face without revealing an assessment.
“We should reflect on this discussion and meet again, perhaps on Monday. Now isn’t the time to decide your future, especially since Dave has retirement drinks tonight.”
“Okay, Kate, thank you for being fair and hearing me out.”
I stood up awkwardly because my erection was very visible, pushing against a pair of Levi 501 button up jeans. I was unsure whether to leave and if so, what I might say.
“Can I go, please?”
Her smile was mischievous this time, and she enjoyed a longer view of me.
“Thank you for being honest. You’re dismissed, Jacob.”
I felt relieved. Her tone was kind, and she seemed pleased that I’d asked for permission to leave.
Next Chapter:
