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Enter the Naked Mole Rat	By : kwh Category: Kim Possible > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 18153 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Kim Possible, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
The breeze from across the harbour rippled the fabric of the silk tent and kept the black and gold flags on the poles atop the temporary structure streaming. Lucy Mau yawned, then shook her head to try to clear it. She'd been up at five this morning, down at the jetty here by half past six, and mucking in with the drivers and riggers to help lay the stage and the carpeting, erect the tent and plumb in the electricity and the computers. This definitely wasn't her job, she told herself. If she'd wanted to put up tents at 7am in the pissing rain, she'd have joined the circus, not a professional sounding facilities management company. She was a 'Conference Co-ordinator', not a rigger, not a lighting technician, not a sparks, not a chippie. The job title sounded great, but the pay was crap, and she spent half her life trying to look immaculate and professional while dealing with the clients, and half her life with a mouth full of nails and wielding a hammer, trying to compensate for her boss going cheap on the tradesmen.
She suspected that Mr Nakajame had known exactly what he was doing when he casually asked her about her 24 month stint as a roadie with a heavy metal band after college, and then hired her 'at a low salary until she had some experience'. If she hadn't been sleeping with the bass guitarist and helping the band polish off the prodigious rider every night, she'd never have stuck at it - the work had been dirty, dangerous and damned hard. And along the way she had learnt to rig lighting, set up and run a mixing desk and build a stage set, not to mention roll a mean spliff and pick out the right groupies from the front of the stage to enliven the after show party. And now she was experiencing deja vu. Except that the best she could hope for these days was an indecent and unappetising proposal from some rotund middle-aged business man, and all the stale canapes she could eat. And she probably wouldn't get home until pushing midnight tonight. It was getting towards time to shut things down and start dismantling the desk and striking the tent, ready for it all to be loaded back onto the trucks that had brought them in this very morning. But first the client's own people would have to dismantle their equipment and get it out. And they couldn't start doing that for another ten minutes, the official closing time for the centre. Any conference delegate not signed in by half-four this afternoon wasn't going anywhere.
So far she had personally ticked 62 people off in the database she had set up. There were three similar centres being run by colleagues of hers, all linked by various bits of technology back to the central server back in the office, and she could see that there were only three no-shows so far from the entire list of 317 invited attendees. Which was a pretty amazing hit rate for any convention she'd ever run. In fact, best she'd ever managed was some dreary international sales conference for computer leasing or something, where they had given everybody who even turned up an equal chance to win a Ferrari. That had achieved a stunning 94% attendance level. They'd run out of goodie bags and had had to rush-order some more at hideous cost during the lunch break. Fortunately no goodie bags to run out of here. In fact, the whole setup was deeply weird.
Firstly, they'd been hired on the spot by a man who had walked in off the street with a briefcase containing a detailed spec for the reception centres and a large number of genuine Gold Krugerands with which he paid for the entire exercise up front.
Secondly, all they'd been told about the client was that his name was Lo Pin, and that he demanded absolute confidentiality until after the event had concluded.
Thirdly, when they'd set up the tent this morning and the client's own people had arrived to fit it out with crates of their own equipment, they were a weird bunch; very unapproachable, almost menacing. And the stuff they were setting up - all very odd. She recognised the metal detector well enough, but some of the other things - well, they looked like strange alien body scanners or something. And then there was a huge security crew that looked like they'd been caught halfway between a karate dojo and a fashion show, with stylish two-tone blue karate gi's, each with a large version of the emblem on the two flags fluttering above embroidered on the back. They seemed to be there to keep delegates and luggage that hadn't been through the scanners well away from people and luggage that had, until sampans arrived at the jetty to collect them. Fourthly, and most bizarrely of all, the delegates themselves were the weirdest bunch of misfits she had ever seen. Each of them who came to her desk to sign in was carrying an ebony card, with a gold pictogram on the front, and with their identity on the back. Some of the cards were for named individuals, others said things like 'nominated representative of the thingummy school' or 'champion of the doohicky dojo' or even 'the leading practitioner of somesuch style'. But they were the weirdest bunch of people she had ever seen. People in saffron robes, people in figure-hugging body suits, people with bizarre hair arrangements and people with no hair at all, plus at least one 8 foot tall, 5 foot wide guy who must have weighed at least 300kg if not more, and had to hunch himself up really small to fit through the metal detector arch. But the weirdest of the weird was a man who had at first seemed utterly normal. A most charming and debonair englishman walked in, introduced himself in a gorgeous english accent as "Lord Fiske", and then passed over a card addressed to "The Right Honourable The Lord Montgomery Fiske, 16^th Baron Fiske". With, although she still found it hard to comprehend, the hands of a monkey. It was all she could do not to scream! Instead, without skipping a beat, she had smiled, and said "Thank you, my lord, and welcome. If you'll just step over there to see that gentleman by the metal detector..." Yes indeed. She had ice water in her veins. Nothing phased her. 5 minutes left. Break-down shouldn't take too long, she mused, provided all those security hard-men pitched in to help get the client's weird equipment out the way.
And then it happened. She lost the power of speech. Adonis himself had just strolled into the tent, and she just couldn't take her eyes off him. He was around six and a half feet tall, wearing a simple black one-piece garment which did nothing to conceal the solidly toned musculature beneath it, his arms were like beautifully proportioned tree-trunks, his legs like exquisitely carved granite columns, his eyes were deep and intense, his face just so cute, but so powerful, and his package looked..
‘Oh god! Focus, woman! Act like a professional! He's coming to the desk!’, she told herself. She felt herself blushing, and blushed even more. Adonis reached the desk and said just one word. "Hi!" But he said it in the most amazingly deep, powerful, sexy, spine tingling voice. Like somewhere between James Earl Jones and Barry White, but perhaps ten times sexier than either and with a little tinge of Japanese accent overlaid. He could read the weather forecast in that voice, and she'd wet herself just listening. "Ng" she said, as she held her hand out to take the card. He obligingly reached inside his Gi to pull out the card with a little smile. And the little smile made her heart do a double backflip and her loins moistened most embarrassingly. She couldn't blush any more brightly. And then the vision of glorious beauty before her put the card in her hand, and she noticed the way the pectoral muscles moved under the garment covering his chest, and she just stared, wide-eyed for a second, just unable to remember what she had been about to say. Then she remembered. "Th - Th - Th - Th". She took the card, and maintained eye contact with the greek god who stood before her. "Err... Miss?" he said, after an indeterminate delay. "Yes?" she replied dreamily. And then suddenly realised that she was losing the plot, and snatched her eyes down to the card, where it said "Representative of the Sensei of the Yamanouchi School". She looked up and her lips definitely moved in a way that was consistent with asking him his name, but her vocal chords seemed to have siezed up. Eventually the word "Name?" did pass her slack jaws. "Saru Chounouryoku" he said, the timbre of his voice indirectly causing a significant damp spot on her chair. "Y... Y..." she tried to say, as the bottom lip of her half open mouth vibrated ineffectually, and she indicated the direction of the metal detector.
"Bon Diggedy!" said Adonis, momentarily breaking the spell. And then he smiled at her before he turned away, and she grinned back foolishly. She sighed dreamily, and quite loudly, before noticing that the man clearly had buns of steel. Then she just stared, mouth lolling half open, while he walked away from her. And then she realised that she had just made that noise out loud. And that at least two members of the so-far stony faced security detail were smirking at her in great amusement. But she didn't care. The radio-linked alarm clock that she was using to ensure that she got the timings absolutely correct, as per the contract, bleeped at her to indicate closing up time, so she placed the "Closed" sign up on the counter, and asked the two smirking security men if they would mind closing and sealing the flap on the tent, which they begrudgingly did. She went back to the database to check how many no shows there were; none. And then the next second, the entire database had vanished. And then the server went offline. And then the machine on her desk suddenly went dark, and smoke billowed briefly from several parts of the case of the system unit.
"Oh just great!" she said, aghast "Bang goes another profit margin. Which would mean that yet again, there will be no bonus and no commission." she told herself. Dammit, she needed another job, and soon. "Does Mr Chounouryoku need a personal masseuse?" she thought, rather enjoying the associated mental imagery. She grabbed the bag with her emergency knickers, jeans, trainers and sweat-shirt in, and headed for one of the portaloos. She needed to freshen up a little, scrub her make-up off and get changed as part of turning herself back into Lucy-the-roadie. And while she was in there she might well have to take care of a little something. Otherwise she'd not be concentrating on anything until she got home tonight!
- 5
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- 7
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Enter the Naked Mole Rat