I should have taken that job at the bank.

Yup.  I know.  Most people dream of wealth, exotic vacations, gorgeous women serving your every wish, but me?  Give me a nice, safe, boring job at Wells Fargo any day. 

I mean, sure, it would’ve meant moving to Kansas City.  And, all right, I know!  Who in the hell wants to live in Kansas City?  Just a bit too northern for my taste, if you ask me, and I would’ve been bound to run into one too many Yankees.  That sort never did set well with my daddy, and don’t get me started on what Uncle Bobby would’ve said in reaction, most likely at every family gathering until the day I died.  Yet…is working for one any better?

Not that he’s necessarily a Yankee.  Technically.  Hell, I even looked up the birth certificate one time when I was bored--which really made me wonder for all of ten seconds about the scope of the company data bases--and there it was, Alexander Joseph Luthor, born in Metropolis, Kansas.  Not that he was necessarily raised in our noble red state, but he’s the genuine article at the very least.  And it wasn’t like he had a choice about his mama and daddy sending him to all those fancy-schmancy schools out east or abroad.  Poor guy was clearly exposed to too many of those rich, elitist blueblooded-type liberals.  They clearly made him a bit wonky in the head.

Which doesn’t explain how I ended up working for said employer.  After all, I had that nice entry level position at Wells Fargo just waiting after graduation.  But the opportunity to work for a Luthor, the Luthor, the one every Met U student would have given their left nut just to meet once, well, as my daddy would say, he didn’t raise no fool.

Not that I completely regret where I’m at.  After all, it’s a posh job, plenty of perks, and the benefits can’t be beat.  Everyone knows there isn’t a better job out there than working for LexCorp, and to actually get into corporate HQ?  Chance of a lifetime!  So of course I took it.

Now look at me.  Private banker, of a sort, to Alexander Joseph Luthor.  Sexiest fucker on the planet, with more money than God and an allure that definitely perks everyone up--if you know what I mean--every time his royal highness is around.  Hell, I didn’t even know I could swing that way until I found myself spending time around him.  Even at the initial interview, I felt a certain something fluttering inside, though at the time I figured it was butterflies due to an actual interview with The Lex Luthor.

That should have told me something right there.  Lex Luthor, the man himself, the young business mogul the world loves to simultaneously venerate and fear, just doesn’t hold interviews for lowly entry-level positions.  Of course there was a catch.

A beep goes off, chirping from a panel to my left.

“Boss-man coming at you in ten.”

I roll my eyes.  Adams is such a drama queen.  She really needs to get a life. 

“Tall, Dark and Sexy is practically hanging on him, lucky bitch.  And woo-wee, is that boy getting prettier and prettier!  Gives the rest of us girls a complex, not to mention dashing our hopes of ever gracing his royal highness’s bed chambers-”

“Bed chambers?” I cut in, skeptically.  Total drama queen.  “Not only is your mind in the gutter, it’s also in the eighteenth century.”

“I wish,” is the snappy rejoinder.  “A good plunder and ravaging would do wonders for my day.”

“So says the happily engaged woman on S4.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mr. Big Shot S50.  Believe me, Mark would understand.  Hell, he’d want to join in!”

I stare at the comm unit incredulously.  Cindy’s obviously forgotten that I’ve met Mark.

“Yeah,” she sighs dreamily.  “LL can exercise his royal rights any day.  Or night.  Or afternoon.  Did you ever hear-”

Not again.  This is what my life has come to.  We’re clearly all in need of long-term therapy.  Which, coincidentally, is covered under those terrific benefits LexCorp is renowned for.

“-time Lisa got an afternoon quicky in the private bathroom of old man Luthor.  Geezer had no idea LL was going at it, and man, Lisa says he’s got the stamina of a-”

I turn off the sound.  Geesh.  All I need is the boss to come in and hear her yammering on about his infamous sexcapades.  After being here for a little over a year and a half, I’ve heard just about all of them.  There’s a reason his infamous wild years are still talked about with relish: there isn’t a one of us that isn’t sick with envy.  You either want to be Lex Luthor, or you want to belong to Lex Luthor…hell, it’s usually a mixture of both.  I doubt there isn’t a single person in the company that hasn’t imagined themselves as an active participant at one point or another.

Yup.  We’ve got to be the only company in the world that has a full time psych staff that caters solely to its employees.  Thank God I never took psych in college.  I really don’t want to know our exact psychosis.  As it is, it’s more than enough to know that we’re all obsessive freaks over the boss.

I’ll say it again: Wells Fargo.  I could have been normal.

I straighten up as I see a light flash to my left, indicating the elevator is about to open.  One of the perks of working in the sublevels is the lack of traffic like they have above.  It’s practically our own little world down here, and here on S50?  Well, it’s entirely my domain.  There’re only a handful of people who get to enter the private vaults.  Add in Adams’ commentary, and it isn’t hard to guess who’s coming to dinner.

Well, that, and it is Friday. 

“Mr. Luthor,” I say as suavely as I can, using my most serious tone as I stand up.  A very quick look assures me that everything around me is immaculate and in order. 

“It’s Lex, Jason,” Mr. Luthor chides gently.

“Yes, sir.” 

I remind myself.  Again.  Lex.  And Clark.  It stills feels odd to call them by their first names.

I can’t help but let out a wistful sigh--internally, of course--at the sight of Mr. Luthor and Mr. Luthor.  Lucky bastard.  Not only married to the most eligible bachelor this state will ever see, but set for life as the prince consort to the ever-growing empire that is LexCorp.  Give it another decade and the company’ll own the planet.  Well…at least all the profitable parts.

I take a moment to unobtrusively look over my young employers.  Roughly my age, which blows my mind since it wasn’t that long since I graduated from school, they’re softly murmuring to each other, hands softly stroking each other, a caress of an arm here, a touch on a hip there.  It’s the normal Friday routine, and it’s clear to anyone who sees them that they’re still in the honeymoon stage, even after a year.

Damn lucky bastard.

I can’t quite hear what they’re saying to each other, but the boss-, Lex, is turning them around, using his body to block off any view of what’s happening with their hands.  Whatever it is, Mr. Lut-, Clark, is leaning against the wall, practically boneless, as Lex leans in to whisper something in his ear.  Green eyes flutter shut, and a soft moan is released from his lips.

I ignore the low-level envy swirling in my gut.

It’s pretty much the norm around here.  Who isn’t envious of Clark?

Don’t get me wrong.  It’s not like I’m gay.  ‘Cause I’m not.  But after working here for a while, getting close enough to the guys on a few of the other sublevels, I’ve come to realize it’s what everyone feels around the boss.  It’s beyond whether his highness comes with a cock or a pair of tits.  It’s simply--or not so simply--a mixture of adoration, lust, love, envy…even worship.  This close up to the man, it’s easy to see why economists go into swoons about his conquest of the world market by the time he was 25.  Words like ‘genius’ and ‘prodigy’ are thrown around like confetti, accompanied by ‘charisma’ and ‘leadership’.  So you either learn to accept being halfway in love with the boss or you leave because that’s the way it is if you work at LexCorp.

But Mr. Luth-, Clark, is still the luckiest SOB in the world. 

I follow quietly after the openly affectionate couple, knowing my role.  I lead them over to Vault Number 3.  The Vault.  Jesus, Adams would sell her kidneys to know what really goes on during these Friday appointments.

Going through the security procedures, holding out my palm and making my eye available for the appropriate scans, I lead the way inside.  Walking past piles of gold bars, coins, jewels, paintings, and sculptures, I find myself immune to the sight of so much accumulated wealth.  It was shocking at first.  Hell, it seemed downright sinful. 

Like some scene in a pirate movie, Vault Number 3 could easily be the set for a pirate’s secret treasure cove.  Or possibly the lair of a dragon in some ancient tale, or even the infamous underground palace in Aladdin.  It’s simply unreal.  Noticing my bosses getting more amorous, I sink into the foreground, just another acquisition, as Lex and Clark move forward. 

Even after a year of wedded bliss and all the clandestine visits down here, a blush highlights Clark’s cheeks.  It’s an interesting combination to see, the nonchalant ease with the wealth around him mixed with the shyness of being so blatantly sexual.  He’s always struck me as the traditional, sheltered type.  Very vanilla, where anything beyond a few kisses takes place in the dark of your bedroom.  Rumor has it he grew up on a farm, so I figure I should know, coming from a small town myself.

Without a doubt, Clark’s definitely a born-and-bred Kansas boy. 

Yet, he’s also been introduced into the world of Lex Luthor where conventions and proper behavior have no place.  Like the emperors of old, it’s Lex that dictates to us what’s right and what’s wrong.  What’s allowed and what’s denied.  And everyone knows Clark Luthor is denied nothing.

I watch them silently, from afar, as they make their way to the center of the room.  Grabbing a rope of pearls, Lex teases Clark as he wraps them around the younger man’s neck.  It’s a ritual, and it’s always interesting to see what pretty bauble he chooses to drape around his chosen beloved.  Whether it’s a jeweled crown or a simple ring, Clark makes the usual murmuring protests.  Yet, as usual, he acquiesces to his spouse’s beguiling charms.  In the end, it’ll be all that he’ll wear as they claim each other once again.

Lex maneuvers them with ease along the paths, heading for the center of the chamber.  As he’s never told me to leave, I do my duty, guarding his treasures, and it tickles my fancy that in these moments, on these stolen afternoons, I watch over his greatest treasure.

Clark walks backward onto the diving board, as he does every week, completely trusting that Lex won’t lead him astray.  I watch, a catch in my throat, as Lex laughs, a free and joyful sound, as they both walk off the board.  One hundred dollar bills fly upward, swirling around in the still air, before drifting back down into the pool and around the crater they form.

I can’t help but snort a little.  Pool.  Who else but Lex Luthor would have a pool of money?  Well, him and Scrooge McDuck.  Someone obviously watched too much DuckTales as a kid, though I’m hardly one to talk since I know the reference.  I can’t help but laugh softly though, as I hear the two Luthors whoop and hollar. 

They start out as usual, wrestling and playing, rolling over and diving into the body of currency.  Clothes are coming off slowly, either won from a bought of tussling or seduced with a few well-placed caresses.  One particularly loud squeal causes me to smirk, Clark’s eyes open wide before he bursts out into giggles.

A wash of affection rolls through me; it gladdens me to see the usually solemn brunette acting so young.  It would be easy to hate Clark, to resent him for having the entire world laid at his feet, for being so completely worshipped and adored by another, yet I’ve found that as time passes, I feel more and more protective of him, as I would towards my baby brother.  Even if at 21, Clark is only a handful of years younger than me.

Yet, it isn’t merely that he’s younger.  I shake my head sadly.  Such a tragic childhood.  Losing his parents so young.  It’s like fate stepped in to bring Lex into life, and perhaps this is God’s way of bringing some goodness into a life that’s known so little of it.  I can’t even imagine being orphaned twice over.  And the rumors that surround him…I can’t help but shudder.  Yes, surely he’s owed such bounty in his life now.  If even half the rumors are true…

I see him reach up, kissing Lex desperately, all shyness gone.  He’s forgotten I’m here.  Forgotten it’s the middle of the day.  Forgotten he’s far from any bedroom, that his surroundings would make almost anyone outside these walls rage at the hedonism and sheer ostentatious affront of its mere existence.  

Kissing Lex wildly, he isn’t aware anymore of where he is.  There’s only each other, and it shows in how they touch each other so reverently.  The sheer intensity and perfection from their coming together is as riveting as it was the first time I was afforded this sacred glimpse into the forbidden.  If this were another era, of a time long past when kings still ruled the earth, these two would’ve been worshipped as gods.  The two combined are so much more, so far above, us mere mortals.  Observing them week after week, within these four walls and without, I know that much for sure.

The last piece of clothing is tossed aside, and their two nude forms intertwine even more closely, as impossible as that should’ve been.  It’s visually stunning, one form pale and lean, the other bronze and toned.  Side by side, nude, it’s easy to see that despite the clear muscular advantage the younger man has, both still hold the slenderness of youth.  Michelangelo would have been in raptures.

Yeah, I know.  That job at Wells Fargo is looking pretty damn dull and boring right now.  Who would want the safety of normality when you could get a glimpse of the divine?

Clark writhes in abandon, pearls gleaming softly against his skin as he arches up into Lex, pleading softly.  I turn my head, just enough to see their forms twisting out of the corner of my eye.  Contrarily, I want to both continue to watch them yet also allow them their privacy.  I feel as if by not watching, I am missing something sacred, yet by the very act of watching, I taint the sanctity of what I wish to hold close.  So I reach my usual compromise, which allows me to continue my duty in guarding those treasures within. 

Not that there is any chance anyone could ever break in here.  Hell, not many even know the sublevels exist.  However, I won’t take any chances.  I finger the gun at my side lightly.  Here at HQ, multiple talents are usually required for any one given job.  Hearing the soft moans and grunts hastening, I come to the same conclusion I do at the end of every week.

Despite the uncomfortable feelings and ideas I’ve had to face, despite the fire and brimstone that would rain down if my own mama and daddy ever found out about the goings on inside these walls, and despite the doubts that continue to crop up, I can’t imagine being anywhere else.

End