Hands of Fate
- 2 years ago
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Hand Of Fate free porn video
Everyone who knew twenty-nine year old Gregory Hunt thought of him as a workaholic and this was probably as good a description of him as any. But his commitment to his work at Turner & Marks was not necessarily one of absolute loyalty to the company. No, the reason for his dedication was more because all Gregory had in his life was the job.
Both inside and out of work he knew loads of people but none he could truly call friend, no one he could really turn to in a pinch. If he were honest with himself he’d have realized he’d never had a true friend and had always been a loner.
Gregory wasn’t a virgin but couldn’t remember the last time he’d been out on a date much less had sex. In fact it had been almost two years since his last date and that had ended at the girl’s front doorway with a quick peck on the cheek and a ‘Thanks for dinner’. So to satisfy his carnal urges most night’s Gregory took things in hand, if you know what I mean.
His coworkers liked him well enough but not so much to include him in their occasional after work get-togethers. Frankly they thought him bordering odd but this didn’t stop them from asking him to fill in for them whenever they were needed to put in some extra time themselves. Most of his coworkers didn’t ask Gregory to back them up often only asking when it was truly necessary. But some did take advantage thinking of him as no more than a patsy, someone who had nothing better to do with their time, someone who could do the drudge work as they went on with their lives outside the office.
Turner & Marks was the parent company of many well known household and business related trademarks. The company was well established as a Pan-American manufacturing company and provided products and services throughout the America’s. Gregory had been with the company about seven years and held a position in the Technology Department. Specifically he was a writer of instruction or user manuals for the company’s products. He was very proficient and over time had also been assigned the additional responsibility of writing manufacturing procedures which oversaw the development of the company’s products and services.
Gregory’s superiors didn’t think of him much, meaning they didn’t have to think about him at all. He was reliable and they thought well of him, admired his dedication to his work but to them he was just another cog in the machine. Consistently his evaluations rated him a slightly above average employee who completed his work timely and reliably with little or no supervision needed. But he had no particular skills to set himself apart or any that would warrant any kind of promotion even into first line management. Gregory was alright with that, he had no ambition to be more than he was.
Today was just another typical day for Gregory. He’d arrived at the office at his usual time, that morning at eight-fifteen and now it was ten to eleven at night. He wasn’t filling in for anyone this evening just working on his own things and time had gotten away from him. Gregory finished the last few items he was working on before shutting down his computer. He slipped into his jacket and overcoat, picked up his briefcase and headed for the elevator.
Waiting for the car to arrive his stomach growled and idly he thought about what he’d fix himself once he got home to his small three room apartment. Riding down in the elevator his mind turned back to the manual he was working on and just knew something was missing. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it but he’d done enough of these manuals to know something important had been omitted by the Manufacturing Group. And he also knew whatever it was would come to him eventually.
The doors of the elevator slid open and he walked towards the one revolving door still open at this hour. Passing the marbled security counter that sat just beyond the elevator nook he said, ‘Goodnight,’ to the two men and one woman on duty. One of the male guards and the female guard turned and stared at him as he walked by but neither responded. The second male guard nodded his head once in Gregory’s direction but said nothing. Gregory was used to the coolness of the people who worked security. Who was he to warrant anything more than a ‘goodnight’ in return but he seldom got even that. Even the guards thought him odd.
Stepping out into the night he walked towards the subway as he pulled his overcoat tighter around himself. The night air was cooler than he thought it would be and wished he’d brought his hat and gloves too. He didn’t own a car and wouldn’t have been able to afford parking downtown each day anyway, even in the employee lot.
Occupying a prestigious spot in the Central Business District, International Headquarters for Turner & Marks sat downtown on Picard Square. Its towering structure was the centerpiece of three buildings which bordered the square. The other two buildings served as corporate headquarters for two firms not related in any way with Turner & Marks.
Picard Square itself was a favorite spot among office workers of the three buildings to take their lunch or a break during the daytime. The multi-tiered square was a mix of classical Greek architecture with plenty of concrete stairs, columns, benches and areas set aside as green spaces. The stairways and other retaining walls for the gardens were decorated with bas relief sculptures reminiscent of the Parthenon and other Greek antiquities. There were also three ornate fountains on the site, one large central fountain and one smaller fountain on each front corner of the square near the street. There were trees and gardens galore throughout the almost nine acre site and plenty of places to sit and relax or have lunch either on a bench or under a tree. But at night the square could be a foreboding place with plenty of dark spaces and places for someone to hide.
Gregory’s thoughts were on his work as he walked down the twenty concrete steps to the second level of the square. He turned right and started towards the Water Street stairs that would take him not far from the subway entrance. Absorbed in thought he didn’t really take note of the figure walking towards him until they were nearer to each other. When they were barely more than a hundred feet apart Gregory’s attention finally went to the hooded figure. The way the figure walked Gregory assumed it to be a man. The man walked at a brisk pace with his head down, hands in the jacket’s pockets and would pass to Gregory’s left on the wide concrete pathway. Because of the figures very brisk pace Gregory thought the man walked with a purpose, someone with someplace to be so he wasn’t too concerned.
Just as they came abreast of each other the figure suddenly veered towards Gregory and shoved him off the path into one of the stairways and up against the stone wall. ‘Give it up mother fucker,’ the figure hissed.
‘What the…,’ Gregory started then noticed the hand gun thrust out at him.
‘Shut up asshole and give me your fucking money,’ the man tersely ordered.
Fearful Gregory dropped his briefcase and reached for his wallet with shaking hands.
The hooded figure grabbed the wallet Gregory held out then said, ‘Give me that watch too.’
Barely able to control his trembling fingers Gregory struggled but finally undid the clasp on the leather wristband of the fairly nice Bulova and handed it over.
After snatching the watch from his hand the hooded figure stepped back and stood just staring at Gregory for several seconds. The light on the stairway was very poor and he couldn’t see anything inside the man’s hood, it was just a dark void. In fact the man’s figure itself was barely more than a silhouette. Suddenly the man said, ‘Fuck this,’ and extended his hand with the gun. Instinctively Gregory threw his hands up in an effort to protect himself. He saw the flash of the muzzle, heard the sound of the gun……the sound of…no, not a gun…he heard the sound of…
…the sound of a baby crying?<
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Gregory’s eyes shot open and slowly focused on the unfamiliar recessed paneled ceiling above him. Frowning he rubbed sleep from his eyes and wondered where he was.
Someone lying beside him rolled over, threw the blankets back and said, ‘You stay in bed honey, I’ll take care of her this time.’ The nude redheaded woman with wild pillow hair slowly stood, pulled on a robe and padded out of the room.
Incredulously he stared at the woman’s back as she walked sleepily through the bedroom door. ‘Did I hook up with someone last night?’ he asked himself then remembered the hooded figure. He threw back the covers and saw he too was naked but more importantly there were no gunshot wounds. That whole episode last night must have been a bad dream he thought. Relieved he pulled the covers back up to his chest again and lay still for a minute.
Then he squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead with his thumb and two other fingers trying to remember what had happened the night before. ‘Who is this woman? Where did I meet her? How did I meet her?’ he asked himself. Trying to think he laid his forearm across his eyes and tried to recall the previous evening, ‘I was headed home from the office last night then….then what?’ he asked unable to remember anything.
Looking around the room he saw several framed photographs hanging on the walls, others sitting on a table by the window and a couple on the mirrored dresser. From the bed he could see he was in several of the photographs, some with a redheaded woman. Confused he rolled out of bed and walked over and looked at one the photo’s hanging on the wall. Shocked he stared at it for several seconds. It was a very nice picture obviously taken in a professional studio and in the lower right hand corner was the legend ‘Molly & Greg March 2001’. March 2001! That was five years ago. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked himself not for the first time.
He reached for the photograph but stopped when he saw the gold band on the ring finger of his left hand. With his other hand he touched the ring turning it around on his finger. It was no illusion, it was real alright. Slipping the ring off he held it between thumb and forefinger staring at it in disbelief. Seeing what appeared to be scratches on the inside he turned the ring in the light until he could see the scratches were actually an engraving. ‘Today, tomorrow, forever we travel life together. Love Molly,’ it said.
He heard the woman coming down the hall outside the bedroom saying in a sing-song voice as she dragged out the twice repeated word, ‘Daddy, daddy, we’re going to go see daddy.’ Then as she entered the bedroom she continued, ‘Where’s daddy? Oops! There he is standing there naked, silly daddy.’
Daddy? Was he this baby’s father? How could that be?
The woman laid the baby in the center of the bed and then lay on her side beside the child. ‘Come lay back with us Greg, Megan wants to see her daddy.’
He stood unsure, hesitating for a moment when a feeling suddenly washed over him. It was a wonderful, warm, cozy feeling that enveloped him, a sense this whole thing was as it should be. He couldn’t explain it but somehow to Greg it felt right. He sensed this was where he belonged, in this place, in this house, with this woman and with this baby. Slipping the ring back onto his finger as he walked over he got back into bed. Lying on his side facing the woman Greg looked down at the baby on the bed between them. He was no expert but it seemed to him the child was no more than a couple of months old.
‘Isn’t she beautiful?’ the woman asked.
Greg stared in wonder at the baby. She was practically bald with just the barest whisper of what appeared to be blond hair and her eyes were the same sparkling green as the woman’s. The fingers of her tiny hands were curled and she was trying to find her thumb but was only able to locate the first knuckle. She looked up at Greg kicked her feet and pumped her arms in the way that babies do, gave Greg a big smile then tried to locate that elusive thumb again. ‘Yes, yes she is beautiful,’ he agreed.
‘I’m glad you changed and fed her last night. I was really beat and didn’t hear her crying until you woke me up when you got out of bed.’
Although he didn’t remember doing any such thing he responded, ‘No problem.’
‘Oh I think daddy did that because he likes spending time with and feeding his little girl,’ the woman said as she stroked the baby’s belly. Baby Megan just cast her eyes towards the familiar voice of her mother as she noisily sucked her thumb’s knuckle.
As the woman cooed and aah’d at the baby Greg stole glances at her. Even without makeup he could see she was an attractive woman, perhaps no pageant winner but pretty nonetheless.
After talking to the baby for a few minutes and making her giggle once or twice the woman said, ‘Keep an eye on Megan Greg while I go pee.’
The woman, the name Molly came to his mind, slipped out of bed and went through a door on her side of the room. He watched her until she closed the door behind herself then looked down at the baby again. Greg studied the child taking in her features, the shape of her nose, her eyes, her mouth and chin. He held the baby’s free hand and traced each of her long fingers with his. Megan stared back at him, her bright eyes shining happily as he held her tiny hand in his when another sense of awe overtook him. He wasn’t sure how or why but somehow he knew this was his child and tears welled up in eyes. He didn’t know how this had happened, why he couldn’t remember Molly or Megan but he wasn’t going to question it either.
Molly came out of the bathroom and removed her robe throwing it across the foot of the bed. Greg took in her body as she picked up a pair of shorts and a spaghetti strapped shirt from the chair next to the bed. She was relatively tall, maybe five foot seven or so and had a thin body with 36C breasts. Her belly and hips carried a bit of extra weight but to Greg it appeared to be from the pregnancy. Her bush was red attesting to her natural hair color and her legs were long and lean.
After getting into the shorts and shirt Molly stepped into her slippers and scooped Megan up from the bed. ‘Time to make daddy some breakfast while he showers for work little one,’ she said to the baby as they left the room.
When they were gone Greg got out of bed and walked around the room looking at the other photographs. A couple were obviously vacation photos of him and Molly snow skiing someplace in the mountains but he couldn’t make out where. There were photos of the two of them jet skiing in what appeared to be some Mediterranean location. A picture of them standing outside the traffic circle around the Coliseum in Rome sat on top of the dresser. Another picture of them standing by one of the fountains at the base of Nelson’s Column on Trafalgar Square in London sat on a table in front of the bedroom window. Also on that table were several pictures of them together on a cruise ship as well of one of them at the Eiffel Tower in Paris. There was a picture of them taken someplace on the street of Rio de Janeiro. He knew this because way off in the background he could see the statue of Christ the Redeemer atop Corcovado Mountain. The same statue was visible in the distance in another photo taken in Rio and was of Molly walking topless along the beach wearing only a teeny tiny bikini bottom. Hanging on the wall were a few pictures of the two of them taken in various restaurants. In three of these photos they were with a table full of people he didn’t recognize but everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.
He took in the items sitting on top of his chest of drawers. He didn’t recognize the Longines Chronograph watch lying there nor did he recognize the graduation ring from Yale. He did remember taking business courses at Prairie State College, but Yale! Huh! He picked up the Italian leather wallet and opened it. There were several credit cards, gold and platinum, a drive
r’s license showing an address he didn’t recognize but assumed it was this house’s. There was another card behind the driver’s license and he pulled it out. It was a company picture ID and Greg could hardly breathe as he stared at it. It was a Turner & Marks ID, one like he’d carried for the past seven years. But this one identified him as ‘Gregory Hunt, Assistant Vice President, Manufacturing, US & Canada’. How could this be? I’m just a clerk, I write user manuals and procedures. What in God’s name is going on? Slipping the ID back into the wallet he set it down then pulled open the top drawer of his dresser and saw underwear, socks and handkerchiefs neatly folded. He pushed it closed and opened the rest of the drawers and found more clothes. Stepping over to a wood door he slid it open. Inside were more clothes, suits mostly. He walked to the rear of the walk-in closet and back out again. There were at least fifty suits with probably half as many sets of dress shoes in individual cubby holes. In drawers were dress shirts of various colors, some new and unopened, some back from the cleaners still wrapped in plastic. There were drawers containing cuff links, shirt studs and men’s jewelry of all sorts. Near the front of the closet was a rack that must have held a hundred ties, all neatly arranged. On the opposite side of the door was another rack holding twenty or so belts. While he had no memories of buying any of these things or even ever having seen them before there was an unmistakable feeling of familiarity about them.
Greg stepped out of the closet and walked across the bedroom to the bathroom the woman had come from earlier. There was a vanity with two sinks in front of a large well-lit single piece mirror. On the vanity by the nearer of the two sinks sat a straight razor and a hot shaving cream dispenser as well as combs, brushes, a hair dryer, a toothbrush, a WaterPik and other men’s toiletries. By the other sink sat similar items and feminine toiletries. Befuddled Greg brought his hand up and rubbed the side of his face. He just wasn’t sure why so much had changed since yesterday, why couldn’t he remember? But rubbing his face did make him realize he really did need to shave. Dubiously he stared at the straight razor lying on the counter. To his recollection he’d never used one before having always preferred an electric razor. Resigned there were no alternatives to the bare bladed razor he gave in and washed his face then applied hot shaving cream over his stubble. Warily he brought the razor up and began to scrape away his day old beard. Amazing himself he found he handled the razor deftly not nicking himself once. After brushing his teeth he showered then dressed in one of the suits from the closet. He looked at himself in the full length mirror that was the sliding doors of Molly’s closet. ‘Not bad,’ he thought as he admired the fit, cut and quality of the suit.
Leaving the bedroom he found himself standing in a hall that overlooked a large foyer below. Going down the stairway he stopped at each of the ten 11X14 photographs hanging on the wall. They were nothing special just more pictures of him and Molly. All were tasteful and well done but just standard studio shots. But what caught Greg’s attention about them were the labels at the bottom right hand corner of each photo. Each carried the month and year the photo was taken. The first picture at the top of the stairs was the same one he’d seen on the wall in the bedroom with the March 2001 date. The last photo at the bottom of the staircase included baby Megan and had been taken just the month before. Between them the rest of the photo’s had been taken at intervals of about two per year. In Greg’s mind the pictures established he and Molly had indeed been together since at least 2001.
Standing at the foot of the stairs he heard Molly talking to the baby off to his right. To his left was a room and through the door he could see a piano with other photographs sitting on top of it.
Blaze
- 10.10.2020
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