Story so far: After meeting famous sexy billionaire Rude Attaturk in a coffee shop, Soakette realised the attraction the mutual when he followed her home from her job at the Bulk Barn, rescued her from the advances of her not-gay friend, and swept her off to Turkmenistan in a helicopter piloted by his buddy Reno O'Turk. On the way, he introduced her to the delights of candy, something which, due to her nutritionally strict upbringing, she had never known. He started with vanilla, but they have many flavours to go. They are about to land in Midgar, and he has just informed her that he will be taking her to meet his Boss. Now read on...
“Your – Boss!” Soaketta squeaked, alarmed. Wasn’t Rude his own boss? What was going on here? Had she been led up the garden-path by this sugar-tongued charmer? Well, even if she had, this path, rocky and rose-strewn and full of twists and turns as it was, seemed a damn sight more interesting than any other path she’d ever been on.
“Yes,” he replied. “And I think you should know, I’ve never introduced one of my women to him before. What have you done to me, Soaketta?” he growled. “I can’t help wanting everyone to know that you’re mine.”
The helicopter landed, the engines died, the fuselage door was opened, and Rude helped Soaketta down the steps to the landing pad. Looking around, she realised that they were on the top of a very tall building in the middle of a large city: it was night. Greenish-black storm clouds boiled overhead, blotting out the moon and the stars. From the city below rose a strange green light, an eerie glow. Pudenda was afraid to look down, however, because she suffered terribly from vertigo, which was a nuisance, but not as bad as being clumsy.
"At last!" cried a voice. It was a female voice. Soaketta's heart sank. She looked around, and saw that said voice belonged to a petite - in fact, practically flat-chested - blonde woman in a dark blue suit hurrying across the landing pad towards them. Oh, god, more blondes, just my luck, Soaketta sighed to herself. Turkmenistan was probably swarming with the wretched things. She watched as the flame-headed pilot grabbed the girl round the waist and bent her backwards in a deep-throated French kiss which, judging from the way she wriggled in his grip and pulled at his hair, the blondette clearly reciprocated. Was she Reno O'Turk's girlfriend, Pudenda wondered, or just a slut?
Rude chose this moment to bend down and murmur in her ear, "That's our intern, Elena McTurkish. She's a real eager beaver. You'll see."
Reno broke off the kiss and stood back, grinning. "Miss me, Laney?"
"Piss off, you skanky sleazebag. And don't ever grab me or kiss me again or I'll have your ass in the biggest sexual harassment lawsuit this company has ever seen. But only after breaking all your teeth first."
"See, she likes me," Reno informed the intrigued Soaetta.
"If your definition of "like" is "forced to breathe the same air as", then yeah, sure, I like you," said Elena McTurkish. "Now step out of grabbing distance or I'll shoot. I'm not even kidding. Hi," she said to Soaketta, holding out her hand. "Welcome to Midgar."
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Pudanda just couldn't stop thinking about candy. It was all Rude's fault, that naughty man! In her mind she metaphorically associated each of his colleagues with confectionary items. Elena McTurkish was a Crunchie Bar: that businesslike suit and assertive manner concealed, like a coat of milk-chocolate, the essential blondeness within. Potentially delicious, indisputably irritating: she would seem to melt, but hours later you'd still be picking bits of her off your teeth.
Reno O'Turk was like a packet of Skittles, or sour jelly beans: loud, colourful, strongly-flavoured, maybe even irresistible (if she hadn't seen Rude first) but if you didn't ration yourself, before you knew it you'd realise you'd eaten too much and were feeling a bit sick.
The tall, broad-shouldered ravenette with the chiselled jaw, inscrutable almond joy eyes and what looked like a chocolate chip stuck between his brows who stood waiting for them at the top of a sweeping staircase was, Soaketta thought, like a glossy stick of black bitter licorice or a stern smooth aniseed ball - barely a sweet at all. "This is our leader, Tseng Takusunoshou," Rude introduced.
Tseng looked Pudenda up and down with eyes like an electron microscope: they were clinical and made here feel very small. Oh my, she thought in a tiny voice.
"Follow me," said Tseng in a voice like melted chocolate. He turned and led the way towards a large chrome and ivory desk standing on a raised dais, framed by a panoramic window overlooking the bright lights of the city far below. A man was sitting behind this desk, arrayed in an expensively tailored spotless white linen suit with accents of charcoal, and a pirate patch over his right eye. He stood up when she approached, a courtesy which made Pudenda decide that his hair colour was not, after, strawberry blonde, as she had thought at first, but gingersnap.
Elena McTurkish, Reno O'Turk, and Rude Attaturk all stopped two metres from the desk and bowed deeply. Soaketta, realising that the guy behind the desk must be somebody important, copied their motions.
Tseng intoned, "His Supreme Excellency Rufus 'Turkel' Shinra, President of the ShinRa Confectionary Corporation and Chairman and Numero Uno Donator to the "Let's Put Smiles on Their Faces" Children's Home and Social Fund, welcomes you to Midgar, Ms Soaketta."
Soaketta looked up from her bow to see The President smiling at her. A chilling, immaculate smile.
Rufus Shinra, she decided, was an icy-hot, extra strong coolmint.
