Warlock of Omaha

By Hemaccabe

Chapter 9 Sharp Dressed Man

I had done my best getting all my irons in the fire and getting as much help as I could to move it along. I would have liked to prioritize armor and clothes over the guns and the bullets but my size kept changing! I had started at a modestly healthy 165 lbs., but I was now moving past two hundred and I had lost 4 inches on my waist! My girls loved it. I was also dealing with all sorts of more subtle changes. It was like going through a second puberty and my head kept hitting things!

I discovered doing physical things felt good, really good. I kept finding myself lifting, moving and especially doing chin ups for some reason. I'd start doing chin ups and not bother to count. Running was still the best. I was discovering new gears. When I started running after changing it felt like sprinting because it was what my fast sprint had been. Since the change, I had found a faster sprint and then another after that. My previous sprint now felt like loping. I mapped out a recent Omaha City marathon, then ran it. The pro who had won it the previous year had done it in just under 156 minutes. Running through traffic, doing some in higher gear, but not really pushing it, I did it in 93 minutes. Welcome to super human. Feels good.

I was still eating everything I could put in my mouth, preferring meat to all other things. I used to call one girl to my bedroom a week, now I had all three every night and they were all happily complaining at the hard use, when they thought I wasn't around. Which was another thing, my senses were all much sharper, particularly smell and hearing.

Finally, the changes slowed down after a month. I had grown three inches, mostly in my legs. My arms were longer, my hands and feet were bigger, but my waist was smaller. When I started, Jake would have seemed like a hulking mass behind the little magic guy in front. He was still bigger, but not by nearly as much.

I still had bottlenecks in my production system because there were many jobs only I could do. I had to fit in the armor. I had to do all the magic. So, I was always running, and the phone was always ringing.

A lot of gear that one might buy reflects various design compromises. Glock produces a remarkable pistol for roughly $600. Glock could do better, but who would pay $10,000 for it? Not many. I, on the other hand, wanted every bit of performance I could get and had the budget for it. I had crossed a Rubicon with Baby. From now on, all my firearms would be fabbed from the ground up. I had purchased a new Glock 20 and Tavor rifle and those guns would sit in my safe forever unused. I would be fabbing everything up from scratch on my two new guns which would nominally be the ones in the safe.

I had learned a lot making Baby, and all of it would be in the Glock.

Glock makes their chassis from plastic. It's very good plastic, but it needs to be cheap and easy to work with. I had used titanium reinforced carbon fiber for Baby's chassis. I looked at other options but decided to stick with the titanium reinforcement. However, carbon fiber is another way to say CFRTPC. CFRTPC is essentially state-of-the-art carbon fiber. So, my chassis for the new Glock and Baby would be titanium reinforced Type 1 which made them so much stronger and more rugged than stock.

I was also radically changing the Tavor's mechanism. Since this was mostly illegal and reflected work I didn't want to share, it meant I had to do it and that meant lots of CAD/CAM time for me. Wonderful. It took a lot less than it might because I had done the process with Baby. CAD/CAM programming and design took three days. Fabbing the parts took two.

I did want to do some experimenting with barrel lengths, so I visited my farmer friend. I took Jake with me. It was 100+ degrees F and over 100 percent humidity outside that day, but the experiment didn't take more than a few hours. Hot, sweaty, unpleasant hours. I wanted to see if the barrel for the 10mm should be longer or shorter. I discovered that the barrel was still getting better out past 9 inches. However, past 9 inches they have a special term for pistols, it's called "rifle." I stayed with 6 since it helped a lot power-wise over the normal barrel length and was fairly standard as a long slide.

I tried to have Jake do some shooting. Jake was initially excited about shooting the way any teenage boy might be. I thought it might help us bond. It didn't work out well. Jake has a gentleness about him which was at odds with firearms. He was definitely scared of the guns and each time any gun went off, he'd flinch. So much for that.

A week of work had me a new Glock 20 with true Baby-style barrel and recoil effects. When I tested it on my home range, the recoil was negligible. Then I put in magic. My last pistol had been good, this one was so much better.

Luckily for my armor, my body's growing took place while we were doing initial analysis and redevelopment on materials. The first thing we did was the boots. We should have done the coat next. Sigh. Instead, we did the chest plate and that worked out well. At first, I was just going to get another fitted piece of ceramic, this time made of the 5.1. Then I got stupid crazy. What if we took a sheet of graphene and put it on both sides as an adhesive? Then added a few mils of my improved Type A on the front and a ¾ mil sheet of improved Type B to the back? The protection improvement was substantial. Nothing would stop big enough rounds and endless hits, but this would help me soak a lot more and stay in the fight. The layers were also particularly good in reducing kinetic transfer and spall.

When I finally stopped growing, I went to my seamstress, Ms. Zhukov. She was actually a professor at the University where I did my materials work and seemed to have a soft spot for me, though I did pay her. I had ten new pairs of pants made. The belt was four inches narrower and the inseam two inches longer. My feet had grown, but my sock size hadn't. My old shirts had been bespoke hand made of silk in Hong Kong. Sigh. I'm sure Goodwill will make good use of them.

Ms. Zhukov and I experimented with what I called battle pants. They were the same as my normal pants, except made with some pieces of improved Type B. We tried several variations and aside from not wanting to become the "Leatherman" joke, I wanted to avoid too much weight, inflexibility and discomfort. Eventually we came to a pair made from improved Type B from the waist down to the top of the knees. The pockets and lower legs would remain ripstop cotton. I didn't expect to wear them every day, just when I knew trouble was about to happen like with the gauntlets and leg armor.

Also, traditional BDU pants have a round pad about two feet across in the seat and crotch area. I had Ms. Zhukov make mine from improved Type B and sandwiched in cotton. Every extra bit helps.

I took Jake, Kelly, Michael and Miranda out on a shopping expedition to a big hunting outfitter store called Cabella's. Michael got a fishing rod toy, some nice play clothes and some badly needed new shoes. He also spent a long time with Jake looking at the store's giant aquarium. The girls didn't get much for themselves, the place is really not for girls who aren't outsy doorsy. I think Miranda and Kelly ended up with an item a piece.

Kelly took to Jake though and since most of Jake's very limited wardrobe was from Target's bargain bin, she took time and picked him out a lot of new clothes and some new shoes.

During a quiet moment, I told Kelly, "You have that credit card for Von Maur's. Don't be shy. Get yourself some nice things."

I had reviewed her bills on the card. All had been clothes for Michael and those sparing. I had it on reliable opinion that Von Maur's had an excellent children's shoe department.

Kelly gave me a suspicious look. I suspect most of the men trying to buy her stuff in the past had been trying to buy her.

"Think of me as a Father-in-Law who's very grateful your taking such good care of his son." I added.

The look on her face moved from suspicious to confused. Which I guess was an improvement. I tried to add a nice smile before we both had to go back to other things.

Miranda found me these really cool dark green hunting shirts with padded shoulder and elbows. I bought one and brought it to Miss Zhukov and had her make me ten fitted versions.

The coat was finally next. Each piece of internal armor had to be made. The process was a lot simpler than my first coat. After all, we had the first coat as a prototype. However, my size had changed so we needed to scale up. The big pieces in particular would have to be fitted to my new proportions. Unlike the last time, when the armor pieces were made of ceramic only, these would be sandwiches, like my chest piece, of ceramic, graphene and the CFRTPCs.

Then there were the fish scales. One of the reasons my ceramic armor provider is so popular is they make armor pieces essentially shaped like fish scales. This allows the armor to be both tough and flexible, key armor virtues. The first coat had scales created by my armorer in areas where flexibility was key. This time I machined the scales in house each one with a bit of graphene and improved type A on the back. The improved type A was slicker and tended to click less which was great.

What really was amazing was that the base material for the coat would be my Type B CFRTPCs. My original coat material was good, this one would be so much better.

Since I was bigger, the coat had to be bigger and therefore heavier. However, proportionally, it was lighter, which was great. It was also a nice opportunity to fix spots that had been wearing poorly or uncomfortable on the first coat. Ms. Zhukov actually came to my materials lab for a day to help put it all together.

The leg armor and gauntlets stayed the same shape but got scaled up and remade from new materials. The gauntlet's hard shells were now 5.1 ceramic, the "padding" was my improved Type A and the "leather" was improved Type B. All representing a substantial upgrade. The leg armor was painted in black lacquer and the gloves in dark forest green metallic. Not the most tactical choices, but very cool.

All my armor got heavy magic enchantment making it far better at warding off lightning, fire, blunt force and bullets. There was also room for putting in a bunch of nifty tricks, though I would be more careful about who was standing to my right.

So, all the new work was going smoothly except one area. The new sights. We were making slower than desired, but still reasonable progress on physical assembly, but the software was just not coming along. We had better batteries. The brains were smaller, lighter, more energy-efficient, and much more capable hardware, but the software was still not coming. I decided to bring in some help.

I looked through the list of available grad students provided by my faculty advisors after my last request. After careful review and some interviews, there was a Brenda who looked like the best of the bunch. I had the faculty advisor send her over with word about a very good paying internship. I have a small office adjacent to my lab at both universities and met with her there. She was gorgeous.

I had made a point of getting new clothes that morning and making sure I was clean and well groomed. I was buying off the rack clothes at a local high-end men's store because my size was changing so fast. As we went through all this development and production, it was easy to pull all-nighters and lose track a bit on one's grooming, particularly as the speed of my hair growth seemed to have increased substantially.

Brenda came into the office as I was finishing something on my notebook. She had red hair. Long, curly red hair. Wow. She was tall, nearly six feet and an unreasonably large percentage of that height was leg. She was really fit. She wore a reasonably conservative white dress blouse, though it was open a bit at the top displaying some very ample cleavage. She was wearing a nice black pleated skirt, that on most women would have dropped to the knee or below, but on her left a good hand's width of leg showing above the knee. While she sat down quickly as I gestured to the seat, I could see she was wearing stylish but modest two-inch pumps.

I began my standard sales pitch about how I had high quality internships, blah, blah, blah. I used the time to give her a serious magical once-over. She was vanilla human and lived in her head, but also a little in her heart, which was not uncommon, but nice in a woman. I also inserted a probe into her mind as gently as possible. She was thinking about wanting this internship, hoping the money was good. She had noticed the once over and hoped her outfit had won over "the lechy old man."

Finally, I got to, "Can I review some of your work?"

"Oh, sure." She replied and pulled out her notebook. We went over some of her coding projects and I was very impressed. She had the goods. She was also too good to be true. I had done my basic search, but someone else could be a better hider.

I dug deeper and there was just more Brenda. I got an image of her standing on stage in a bathing suit and sash, desperately disappointed. The memory was driving her here today. She was as legit as I could determine without major invasion which would probably harm her. So that meant plan b.

I pulled my seeming out and let it go to work while I briefly reviewed what we did here at the lab.

I could see it go to work inside as her impression of me went from "lechy old man," to "rock star god." One could watch on the outside as her cheeks flushed, her eyes dilated and her back arched, putting her décolletage on more prominent display.

When the seeming had worked it's magic enough. I stood up and said, "Well, I'm very impressed. We have to review your qualifications a bit more. We should have a decision by this evening. Would you like to join me for dinner so we can discuss it further?"

"Um," She started to reply, but then had to swallow, "Okay."

I made arrangements to pick her up at her apartment that night. Then I called Holly and told her to make sure the garret was in good condition for the evening. Then I called Miranda and told her not to make me dinner.

I worked the afternoon away trying to resolve problems with the sighting system. Part of the problem was that it needed a lot of controls that in turn had to be easy to reach while operating the rifle OR pistol. Just to make it all double difficult, there were two modes it needed to work with. Without Tracking Point's stolen software this would be impossible. With, it was still a complete mess. I made some progress on several fronts but was still far from a solution when it was time to get going.

I went home and pulled myself together. A nice jacket, shirt, slacks and shoes that didn't look silly. I strapped on the new Glock in a discreet location and made sure she was loaded with Stage Six. I then took the Infiniti and picked Brenda up at her apartment. She had her hair up in what I think was an effort to make it look grown up. She was wearing the heck out of a little black dress. She was wearing hose and what I'm pretty sure were the same two-inch black pumps she wore to the interview. That made sense, an unlimited shoe budget would have been part of a Fomor agent's kit, but not a grad student on a limited fellowship. The way her skirt hiked up as she settled into the passenger seat before I closed her door was delightful and I got to find out that the hose were stockings.

I took her to one of the nicer restaurants in town, a place called the Grey Plume. The meal was tasty, but small and felt overpriced for what we got. I got the sense that Brenda wasn't excited about it either.

We talked. I was already in her mind watching. I asked, "You're very attractive and you carry yourself in a way that makes me think you did some modeling?"

"Yes, you're right. I was runner up in my state beauty pageant. Just below what I would have needed for a scholarship." She answered ruefully.

"Tell me about it?" I asked.

She then proceeded to give me twenty minutes of details and anecdotes that made her either among the world's best liars or simply authentic.

"So, I suppose you studied dance?" I continued when she slowed down.

"Oh yes, I love ballet. I studied since I was four. Unfortunately, I was too tall and too," at this gestured to her décolletage, "to ever go pro. I did minor in dance for my bachelors."

"I love the ballet as well. Did you know, I'm on the board for the Omaha Ballet?" I didn't add along with about fifty others, but it got me great seats and into all the right receptions.

"Wow, that's cool." She answered.

Up till now everything in her head had been fine, that last comment of mine made her worried that I was gay. So, I felt safe saying, "Nothing sexier than a ballerina."

That made her heart jump and funny feelings start in special places which I would have seen from her body language if I wasn't already aware.

"So, are you continuing to study dance or do you have new any new hobbies?"

"I don't want to give up dance completely but, I'm thinking of taking up shooting." She answered without guile.

"Shooting? Like guns?" I asked disingenuously.

"Yeah, I grew up on a farm in the middle of nowhere," she said the name of the state, another rural Midwestern state next to the one I had grown up in, "our Dad taught us shooting from when we were kids. I'm pretty good. Maybe I'll even try competitive, but it's expensive. Guns aren't cheap and ammo is crazy." She answered brightly.

"Perhaps if you start the internship, we'll sponsor you." I said smiling.

Wow. She wasn't sure I was serious about sponsoring her but liked the idea. I thought that a girl who was into was shooting was sexy as hell.

We had plenty of time to chat as service, despite the place not being busy, was slow.

"So what areas are you planning on focusing on in your career?" I continued.

"I want to focus on real time ballistics calculation." She answered.

She was just too good to be true.

"Really, what about that area interests you?" I asked, trying not to sound too eager.

"My brother Billy was a Marine and died in a firefight in Afghanistan. If he had better faster sights, maybe he'd be alive today. Tracking Point and other manufacturers are making baby steps in the right direction. The right research and we could have a new generation of sights in a few years." She answered, feeling it inside very strongly.

I was hoping for something a lot faster than a few years.

"Well, you should know that we're working on cutting edge scope technology in my lab, trying to push exactly that sort of development. We need the right person to help bring it to reality." I said.

That got her more excited than finding out I wasn't gay.

"I want you to come on board in my lab. I think you'll find an internship with me very rewarding. What do you say?"

"Okay." She answered a bit nervously.

We discussed technical matters for a bit and dinner ended. I paid discreetly and we made our way from the restaurant.

When we were in the car I asked, "You didn't seem to enjoy that meal much?"

"I guess I'm more a steak and potatoes kind of girl." She spoke again very disingenuously. I liked that. I could feel inside her head as she kicked herself for insulting my restaurant.

So, I said, "It really wasn't my kind of thing either. Any chance you're still hungry?"

She was. "Yeah I guess." She answered uncertainly.

One of Omaha's hidden gems is a fast food place named Broncos. They have the best fried chicken in town that can be bought fast food, decent burgers and some of the best fries around. They start with real potatoes and go from there. Unlike most yahoos who try and fail to do fries like that, Broncos actually knows about washing off excess starch and using two fryers in two different temperatures. Result, consistently really good fries.

As I pulled up to Bronco's downtown location I asked, "Have you ever been to this place?"

"No." She answered honestly.

I wasn't surprised. It was a hump from the university and hard to realize how good it was if you didn't already know.

I ran us through the drive thru and got us two double pony burgers, two fries and two large sodas.

We both ate as I drove. I knew she was really enjoying the burger.

When she was done, I asked, "Still hungry?"

"No that was great." She answered.

"Glad to hear it." I answered smiling.

I drove back to my place and pulled around to the garret.

I sensed she was eager and nervous.

I stopped, got out and walked around to her side and opened the door.

She got out.

I then took her in my arms and kissed her.

She kissed back.

She murmured, "Where are we?"

"This is my place. I'd like you to stay the night." I said.

"Okay." She answered again.

"Are you on birth control?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm on the pill." She answered.

I took her up the stairs and into the garret. I turned on the mood lights, they were enough to be pleasant and see, but not be harsh.

I put my cell phone in the speaker to start some music and found a recently opened bottle of champagne with two flutes on the counter. I served us both a glass. We sipped for a moment then I put down my glass, took her face in my hands and kissed her again. She now tasted of champagne and passion and it made me hungry. It was a hunger I saw reflected in her.

I turned her around, it was a very short zipper on the back of her dress and that came right off. I worked the snap on the back of her bra and was rewarded with some remarkably beautiful endowments. She was wearing a very brief thong panty and stockings without garter belt. I led her to the bed and had her sit down. I took that moment to undress.

I handed her drink back so she could sip and enjoy the show. My jacket came off and then my shirt. I knew that when she looked at my chest and stomach, she liked what she saw. I kicked off my shoes and socks, then undid my pants. She then noticed that I had been packing. She was surprised and pleased. Without shame I removed my boxer briefs leaving myself naked.

I went back to her. I pushed her gently back onto the bed, gently taking her drink and setting it aside. I then lifted her legs and removed the panties. Her sex was a darker, curlier richer shade of red and very beautiful. I then took a rose that had been set near the champagne and climbed onto the large comfortable king bed. I took the rose and ran it gently over every inch of her exposed body. I could feel her passion and arousal thrumming in her body and I entered her. I was very surprised. She was a virgin. I stopped there, my manhood half inside and asked, "Do you want me to continue?"

"Please." She said her voice strained. Having been respected and asked made her all the more aroused.

I then entered her fully. She cried out like a little bird and the sensations for me were incredible. I had never been a woman's first. I felt so privileged. I made the best love to her I knew how. I was constantly aware of what brought her pleasure, what she wanted and tried to give it to her in concert with what I knew had pleased many partners before. She came quickly to her first climax and then seemed to begin climbing again almost immediately. I brought her to a series of climaxes, each higher than the last. Only when I thought she was on the verge of passing out, did I release myself, provoking her last, final and most powerful climax before she did pass out from pleasure.

I pulled myself out gently so as not to disturb her. I went and got a washcloth and cleaned myself. I found I also needed to use the commode. I then returned to the bed and took her in my arms which caused her to murmur happily in her sleep.

We slept like that till morning. I awoke when she awoke. She rolled over in my arms and kissed me.

"I think we should talk about the future a bit." I said.

"Okay." She answered a bit confused and nervous.

"I want you to understand some things about me which are very unusual." I said then continued.

"The offer for the internship is separate from any personal details. You are not obligated in any way under it to be with me like this." I said. She hadn't really thought about it that way until I said it, but she liked it when I said it.

"However, I would like you to move in with me. You could live in my home rent free and expenses paid for as long as you like." I said.

She liked the idea of moving in. She was thinking the garret might be small for the two of us.

"This is just the garret. The whole estate belongs to me. You would have your own suite. There's maid service, grounds maintenance and a chef." I explained.

She liked that idea a lot.

"You have to understand something hard now. I already have three girls living with me. They're also interns. I have physical relationships with all of them and will continue to do so." I explained.

She didn't like that, but basically felt the same way about me that I had felt about Stephanie.

"I also have other women I see sometimes and occasionally meet new ones. I'm promiscuous. Despite that, I expect you to be faithful to me. It's not fair, but it's part of the deal. Can you accept that?" I asked.

She could and nodded.

"Also, I work in information security for some very wealthy clients. There is an element of danger associated with that as the wrong people may try and harm you to get to me or see you as in the way as they try to harm me. It hasn't come up yet, but it might. My home and life have some strict security rules. I expect you to abide by and respect them. Will you?" I explained and asked.

"Yes." She answered sincerely.

"I'm really glad you feel this way. I really want you to be part of my life." I said.

She liked hearing that and liked it even better when I took her face in my hands and kissed her again. She started kissing me very hungrily and was clearly becoming aroused again when she realized how sore she was and actually let out an, "Oww."

I took her from the bed and carried her in my arms to the amply sized bathtub shower and washed her carefully from top to bottom. I then cleaned myself and she was kind enough to help me with my member. We dried each other off and I dressed in last night's shirt and pants while enjoying the beauty of her nudity. She actually blushed a bit. Then I got her a small, thin, cotton robe. On Miranda, the robe would come to mid-thigh. On Diane, it would wrap almost the whole way over. On Brenda, it barely was low enough to hide her goodies and, despite her very thin waist, her endowment was barely covered.

I then led the newest member of my household to the dining room for some breakfast.

Miranda was going back and forth to the kitchen while Diane and Holly sat and ate. The three all stopped and looked at Brenda with round eyes and nervous smiles. I spoke.

"Brenda will be joining our household. She'll be helping me with work at one of my university labs and here in my shops."

Then I stopped and made introductions, "Brenda this is Holly, Diane and Miranda. They also help me around the house. Miranda, I want you to make time this afternoon to help Brenda pack and get moved out of her current place. Diane, please take some time after Brenda gets settled to give her a tour of the grounds and review security procedures. I'll fix her phone. Holly, please help Brenda get settled and show her around the main house. Brenda will be staying in the Suite between Diane and Holly. Everyone, please make Brenda feel welcome."

We sat and had breakfast. I ate well. Miranda was now regularly feeding me much larger portions of everything along with pancakes, pie and a chocolate croissant this morning. The girls all ate more normally. I noticed Brenda started by only nibbling nervously on some toast, then, perhaps noticing how good the food was, or how hungry she was, or both, ate a solid meal. Good for her. I looked at my girls, Miranda was apparently only wearing a chef's smock, and that was only covering her bottom intermittently. Diane was wearing her typically revealing work clothes. Holly was wearing a see-through nighty with no bottoms. I suspected their particularly provocative dress was a way of welcoming the new girl.

As I finished my breakfast I said, "Miranda, please make sure Brenda gets back to her clothes and apartment. Holly, I have some laundry concerns please accompany me to my rooms."

Diane and Miranda smiled knowingly at each other as I left with Holly. I could hear them start asking Brenda all sorts of questions as soon as they thought I was out of the way.

I took Holly back to my bedroom and quickly made use of her services. Several times. What I had done the previous night had been performance art, this was satisfying basic hungers. Before Jake, the night with Brenda would have been all I needed for several days. Since the changes began, my appetites had increased dramatically, and what I had done with Brenda the night before had simply not satisfied. What I did with Holly was more like wolfing down a cheeseburger when famished, we both enjoyed it, but it was much more to the point.

When we were done, I said to Holly, "When she's moved out, please go to Brenda's place and clean it up really well. Also, text Miranda and tell her to offer to take Brenda to the mall and buy her some nice things for around the house. Use the house card."

Holly rolled over on her side to face me with a chipper smile and said, "Will do!"

Holly is such a help.

I cleaned up and got dressed for the day.

Being with Holly so quickly after Brenda had made me wonder again about Ivy. If what I wanted was real passion and perhaps even love, I seemed even further away than ever. With my new appetites, could one woman keep me satisfied? I know that sounds arrogant, but my three girls had actually been starting to feel the strain. They had all welcomed Brenda not least because she could now share the load.

The thought made me uncomfortable. Luckily, I had work to do.

I got to my materials lab. More fabbing. More fitting.

I went to an all you can eat place for lunch, and they lost money on me. I didn't enjoy the eating, just needed to get full as fast as possible.

Then I went to my electronics lab.

They were making good progress on the hardware. I had good components and a good young man, Wai Loon and a young woman, Ofelia Apodaca getting them together. The software lagged. I worked all afternoon, called Miranda and let her know I would miss dinner, and worked late. I was six weeks from the Three Gun match. It would be nice to have some time to actually practice with the equipment before I took it into competition. I couldn't say with certainty, but it felt like we were months away from a working prototype.

I got in at ten. The girls were hanging out in the den with Brenda watching a show about women in jail. I sat down on my couch, trying to summon the energy to get up and go to my bedroom.

I noticed then that they were all wearing matching pink, ruffly underwear. It ended up being another night in the den.

The next day Brenda came in with me to the lab. I spent the morning reviewing the project and the problems.

"This stuff is ten years ahead of anything else out there!" She exclaimed when I showed her the helmet and scopes.

"You have Tracking Point's proprietary software?" She asked shocked later while I was reviewing the software.

"Yes. If we don't release or garner commercial profit, it won't be a problem. If we want to release commercially, we'll come to an arrangement with them." I tried to answer nonchalantly.

We got some lunch brought in. I bought everyone pizza. Then we repaired to my office.

Brenda pulled out a notebook and showed me some software she had already been working on. It was gold. It solved many of the problems we were facing. It was really good, reliable, fast, and very sleek code.

We spent the next three days integrating what she had with what I had already. We still didn't have a working prototype, but we were much closer. I could see the end and we had a fighting chance.

I took just Brenda to bed that night. She was healed up and very eager to try again. I discovered just one woman could sate me.

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

Please don't miss that this is the first exciting book in a series. This book is followed by Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed, both also on this site!

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp!

Lastly, if you like traditional Star Trek, look for my free novel, Star Trek: Lost Destiny, also on this site.

This writer, like the story teller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay

Pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.