Author's Notes: Hello! Because I already love this story to death and am an extremely impatient person, I decided to release the first chapter much earlier than initially planned. As of right now, I have a lot written, but I cannot guarantee how often it will be updated. Ultimately, it will all depend on reader response and the feedback I receive: positive feedback, reviews, and coffee fuel me. If you like it - love it even - can't wait for more...let me know, because it will motivate me to write more quickly and try even harder. One thing is certain: this one's gonna be a long one. Without further ado, please commence reading, and I hope you enjoy it! :D

Kurt slammed his hand down hard on his solid mahogany desk, a resounding thud in its wake, while his other hand formed a tight fist, his fingers tangled in the hair of the man between his knees. His mouth fell open as a white heat pooled in his stomach, and he rolled his hips forward as he cried out, his orgasm hitting him with more force than usual. Kurt felt his heart hammering in his chest, and his breathing came out heavy as he came down off his high.

"Fuck," he practically gasped. "It looks like ordering Thai was a great idea." Kurt zipped up his pants. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the top drawer of his desk, flicked his lighter, and lit one up, inhaling deeply, his body now relaxing and nerves melting away. He pushed the chair back away from the desk, and the other man - a delivery guy from the Thai restaurant a few blocks down - rose unsteadily to his feet and smoothed out the creases in his clothing.

"I suppose you expect a tip for that," Kurt said, grinning. "Here," he said, pulling his wallet out of his pocket. He placed a hundred dollar bill down flat on the desk and slid it over toward the man who looked at it, hunger burning in his eyes. Then Kurt leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, giving room for the man to snatch up the bill.

There was a loud knock on the door of Kurt's office, and he swiveled around in his chair as his visitor then slowly pushed the door open.

"Hello, Amy," Kurt greeted the woman. "What do you need? Can't you see I'm trying to enjoy my lunch?" he asked with an impish grin. He sucked down the last bit of his cigarette and put it out in the ashtray on the corner of his desk. The woman kept her head down but was unfazed by the visitor. After eight years as Kurt's personal assistant and secretary, she was used to Kurt's antics by now. In fact, it was almost a daily occurrence. She cleared her throat and rolled her eyes.

"You have a meeting at two in the conference room," she told him.

"With -?"

"P&H Incorporated. You're expected in ten minutes."

"You may leave - Matt -?" Kurt said with a dismissive wave to the delivery guy who was still standing there shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot and looking toward the door.

"It's Andrew -" the young man said, still looking at Kurt while gripping the bill in his hand as if it would float away if he loosened his hold on it at all.

"Do I look like I care? I said you may leave. Now scram," Kurt said, shooting the man what was recognized as his signature bitch glare. It was toxic, and, when seen, one knew to hightail it out of his sight. A terrified Andrew took off, closed the office door behind him, and raced to the elevator.

"I guess this means I have to move." Kurt sighed and rolled his eyes. "They'll wait for me - they always do. But I'll kindly allow you to escort me down there. After all, what am I paying you for?" he joked.

Amy held the door open for Kurt, and they swiftly made their way to the elevator. When they got in, Amy turned to Kurt and cleared her throat.

"Do you even know what the meeting is about?" she asked him, mildly irritated as she suspected she already knew the answer.

"Nope. But I'm sure you'll fill me in," he answered, staring nonchalantly at his fingernails and then began checking his hair in the polished metal of the elevator doors.

"You're closing a deal to acquire sixty-percent of the company's assets in the form of two of their three factories," Amy explained.

"That sounds like fun," Kurt said, still disinterested.

They reached the floor, stepped out of the elevator, and made their way toward the conference room. Upon their arrival, Kurt could see through the glass panes of the front wall of the room that the man in charge of the negotiations for the other company had brought his cronies with him.

When Kurt entered the conference room, a hush fell over the small group of men assembled there. Kurt took his seat at the head of the table and nodded to his visitors from the rival company.

"Good afternoon, Mr. -?"

"Frank Madison," the man said.

"Frank. And how can you help me today?" Kurt asked.

"Aren't you a sweetheart," the man sneered. "I'm not sure how it happened, but we're in a desperate situation to sell."

"Well, this is how it's going to work, and it's actually quite simple," Kurt said. "You're going to sign along this line here, and I'm going to walk away a wealthier man."

"That's it? No questions asked?"

"That's it. Unless you wanted to blow me, then all you have to do is sign and be gone. On second, thought, I'm not into old grizzly bears like you," Kurt said with a smug smirk, looking the man up and down. Frank narrowed his eyes angrily at Kurt and let out a heavy sigh in his frustration.

"I'm not going to listen to some entitled brat," Frank said. "I'm not afraid of you."

"Oh but you will. And you should be," Kurt said.

Frank Madison rose from his seat in a huff, and then turned his head and eyed Kurt curiously. Then, after a moment, he slowly began to nod.

"Okay. It's yours - but I'm on to you. I don't know where you came from, who you think you are, or how you managed to climb your way up to this point, but I'm going to expose you. I'll bring you crashing down to the ground - all the way down from your fancy penthouse apartment. And it's a long way down," he said, spitting as he articulated each 'p'.

Kurt swallowed hard in response to the man's threats, and his grin wavered only for a split second. He watched as Frank scribbled his signature down on the appropriate line of the contract and then had Amy take the contract from him just as quickly.

"It was great doing business with you," Kurt said, standing and extending his hand mockingly to the other man. Frank looked at his hand, disgusted, but then took it, squeezing just a little too hard before letting go. "Have a great evening. I know I will," Kurt said, waving his fingers goodbye to further taunt him.

Frank muttered under his breath as he exited the room with his cronies in tow, unable to figure out for the life of him why he had just agreed to that deal. He was sure someone would have his head quicker than he could say, "Well, fuck."

"Kurt," Amy said. He turned. "The rest of your schedule is clear for the day. Did you need me for anything?"

"Honey, I always need you. But now that I think of it, I could really use a coffee. Rather, make that a latte with three shots - of Cognac."

"Of course."

"You're the best," he said. "Now I remember why I pay you."

They began to make their way back toward Kurt's office where he would easily spend the rest of the day basking in his success, twiddling his thumbs, and counting down the last hour or so of the work day.

-s-

All it would take was a slight push, and he could go plunging down to the busy street below from seventy-two floors up. Except there was a thick pane of glass and a roof on which was planted a luxurious garden separating him from such a fate. But he looked down over the city, taking in all that was Manhattan in its grandeur - the dazzling lights, the tall buildings, and the tiny people and cars that crawled through the streets below. And he imagined that there were people just like him wandering around down there, desperately seeking a place in it all, to have a piece of the city to call their own. That was who he was when he first arrived in town: young, bold, and prepared to fight his way up. But New York was just another effortless challenge for him after getting everything he possibly could from the Midwest.

Kurt looked down into his glass of Château d'Yquem and swirled the contents around before taking a long sip. He took a drag on his cigarette as he continued to gaze out the wide windows. The door to his bedroom swung open and out walked a tall, lean brunet, hair wet, skin moist, and in nothing but a towel hanging loosely from his waist. The man walked up behind Kurt, wrapped his arms around his middle, and nuzzled his nose into the side of his neck.

"I was thinking about you," he said by Kurt's ear. Kurt could feel the man growing hard as he pressed his body up against Kurt. He could smell the man's aftershave and the mixture of tangy aromas of his own body wash, shampoo, and toothpaste on his skin and warm breath - lemon and fresh mint; like a tall glass of mojito that Kurt would love to drink in a heartbeat if given the chance to put his lips on it.

"Mmm, Emmett," Kurt hummed, closing his eyes for a moment at the contact. He turned around and met Emmett's gorgeous blue eyes. "You know I don't do sentimental. I quite enjoy my life as a bachelor, scoring with any young man that pleases my eye."

"Then let's go out. You always seem so miserable when you're cooped up in this place. I'll never understand why you live in such a large apartment when you're so insistent on remaining single and alone," Emmett said.

"I live up here because I need to be on top with everything I do - everything. Besides, it has the best view, and I like to watch," Kurt said, quirking an eyebrow suggestively.

"Well, in that case, your name is permanently at the top of the VIP guest list at Provocateur, so let's take advantage of that, shall we?" Emmett said.

"I could use some fresh air, and there is quite a bit of watching to do there - among other things," Kurt said.

-s-

Kurt was on his fourth drink, and the tab of X he had taken not too long before had him feeling looser than putty in the sun and hornier than an unneutered puppy. And there were beautiful people surrounding him, models, businessmen, actors, musicians, any of whom he could have if he asked. He had lost Emmett somewhere along the way and was now grinding up against a twenty-something who he vaguely recognized from some movie...probably. These things were trivial to him: people knew who he was, but he didn't care who they were or how famous they might be.

"I need to use the gentlemen's room," Kurt spoke above the music by the man's ear. "Would you be a gentleman and escort me there?"

The next thing he knew, he had the young man palms flat against the bathroom wall, completely at his mercy as he thrust up and into him. His hips slammed up against the man's ass with each thrust, and Kurt threw his head back as he bit his lip and his eyes rolled up into his head. His brain felt like it was swimming in a warm jacuzzi with the jets on full blast, and his skin was almost scorchingly hot and severely sensitive to every touch and contact he made with the man he was inside of. He sank his cock one last time deep into the man, and then moaned as he began to come hard, his orgasm heightened by the ecstasy and so intense that he felt like he was about to pass out as he climaxed and continued to come.

"Thanks, darling," Kurt said, patting the man on the ass. He pulled out and clumsily cleaned himself up. "It was fun. See you around - or not." And he left the bathroom, stumbled back out into the crowd, and lost himself in the music and the sea of sweaty bodies.

-s-

"Sir -"

Kurt turned his head slightly at the sound.

"Sir, are you going to order something? If not, you're going to have to leave."

At that, Kurt managed to lift his heavy lids and open his eyes and focus enough to make out a hideous yellowed formica countertop beneath his head and the dimly lit surroundings of a diner. Its fried slop and meat-infused atmosphere was now overwhelming his senses and began to turn his stomach. He habitually pulled out a cigarette and proceeded to light it but was startled by the woman behind the counter.

"Sir, you cannot smoke in here. I don't care who you might me, it's a state law."

"Is that so?" Kurt looked down at his phone: 3:52 AM.

"Don't test me."

"Alright. I'm leaving, I'm leaving," he said, throwing up his hands in surrender. He half stumbled and dragged himself home, still in a drug and alcohol induced haze and reeking of sex and smoke. Blacking out and waking up alone in an empty diner was a low point for him, but it also wasn't the first time it had ever happened.

When he entered his apartment, he collapsed onto the sofa where he passed out for about an hour before coming to again. It was quiet when he did, and he reached for the remote to turn on his television. The news came into focus, and the image stretched across the triple-digit-inch plasma screen that hung on the one wall.

He stretched and sat up, not without difficulty, and tried to ignore the pounding in his head, beating a steady rhythm, his temple the kick-drum. He rubbed his eyes and then looked on at the screen as he stood up.

"At 3AM this morning, a woman was spotted on the Brooklyn Bridge, but authorities report that, when pursued, the woman appeared to have simply vanished," the female reporter went on. "An investigation is underway, and officials will be searching the water below for a body."

Kurt tuned out the rest of the report as he went off to put himself together for the day. When he climbed back out of the shower, he pulled on his favorite Vivienne Westwood suit, styled his hair, and then called for a car to take him across town to his office.

When he entered the building, the atmosphere was tense. He stepped off the elevator, and made his way through the hall to his office. But, along the way, he tried to nod hello at a few people who immediately ducked their heads, looking terrified at his presence. He found their behavior odd: people loved him, they didn't fear him. To be feared was the last thing he wanted - at least from his employees.

But when he sat down at his desk, he immediately spotted an envelope addressed to 'K. Hummel' and devoid of any return address or sign of who the sender was. At least he trusted that Amy would not have put this on his desk if there was any possibility of it endangering him in any way.

He slowly lifted open the flap of the paper envelope, sliding the document out and onto the desk. He unfolded it and was taken aback by what he saw. There were no hand-written words or any computer-generated type-font on the single page. Instead, it looked like something out of a film, mismatching letters cut out of a magazine and glued down like a ransom note. But the message on it had nothing to do with ransom. It read:

"We know what you are."

Kurt felt a chill travel the length of his spine, and his body twitched involuntarily. Unsure of what the message was supposed to mean, he wondered if maybe someone was trying to scare him. It was impossible that anyone actually had anything on him. Besides, he had everyone who mattered eating out of the palm of his hand, so he had no reason to worry.

-s-

After calling for a car, Kurt was on his way home, reclined and gazing through the open moonroof at the darkening sky. As the car made its way down East End, Kurt's eyes traced the shapes of the clouds and smog in the light-polluted sky, almost wishing to be back in Ohio - but only for a split second - so that he could see the stars again.

He was stirred from his brief trance when he saw some sort of light ripple through the sky, but as quickly as he blinked, it was gone again. Now this is just getting weird, he thought.

When he reached his building, he climbed out of the car, hastily made his way into the lobby, and hightailed it to the elevator, completely ignoring the doorman's greeting. Finally back in his apartment safe and sound, Kurt locked and chained the door and then leaned his back up against it as he felt his breathing begin to regulate. He finally stepped away from the door when his heart was no longer racing. He was alone now in the sanctuary of his opulent nest.

Kurt was still shook up from the car ride home, but he unstopped a bottle of Disaronno, poured it over some ice in a glass, and took a few swigs. His nerves began to settle. He cupped the cool glass between his hands and leaned up against the counter. Then he began to hum softly, a tune he had heard somewhere recently, and then he closed his eyes and sighed. A soft mew seemed to sound in response.

"And what have you been up to all day, huh, Anna?" Kurt looked down, addressing the light gray cat that was now winding around his legs and rubbing its face on his dress shoes. "I bet you've been catching up on all the sleep I should be getting." He crouched down and scratched the cat under her chin. She closed her eyes and purred, tilting her head upward.

"What am I even doing?" he asked the cat as if she could understand him. "Weird things are happening, Ms. Wintour, and I think for the first time I'm actually scared."

She turned her face up toward him and her bright green eyes bore into him.

"I know - Kurt Hummel scared? I've been a bit of an ass, took advantage of way too many people, and have been downright corrupt," Kurt said, "so I wouldn't be surprised if this is the universe finally catching up with me - all that bad karma can't be good."

Anna followed Kurt over to the sofa where he sank down into the cushions. She leaped into his lap, and he proceeded to pet her as he sorted out the thoughts in his head. How had he gotten himself tied up in all of this? How had he let himself take it this far? The power? The wealth? The fame? Surely, the partying and the sex were great perks, but was he becoming tired of it all?

No one ever tried to stop him before, never challenged him in any way. The world is his oyster, but maybe he was becoming sick of seafood. Because when you're up this high, there's only one way you can go. Down. And it really was a long way down.