The Mind Controller of Seville
Part Three: Dinner
Parku arrived at the restaurant at exactly 8 pm only to realize that Ms. Rosetti was nowhere to be seen. He rummaged around in his pockets for a few moments to make sure he had his antacids with him, then entered the restaurant resolved to handle the loan negotiations himself, if need be.
The restaurant was cozy, yet austere, and very urbane. Parku thought it was just the kind of place to impress a business partner without making a hit on the books. Herr Gluckmann, with his ramrod German posture and sharply clipped blonde hair was unmistakable at the bar.
“Pardon me, sir? Herr Gluckmann?”
The man rose to shake hands. “You must be Herr Chubupramarkand Parkuramathanafar. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“The feeling is mutual. I must apologize, Herr Gluckmann, that Ms. Rossetti seems to have decided to skip out on this important meeting but…”
“Nonsense! There she is now!”
Parku turned to see Ms. Rossetti entering the restaurant. She was wearing a bright red Asian-style dress with embroidered black flowers and had her hair done up with a pair of lacquered wooden pins to hold it in place. Parku felt faint and started to look for a glass of water for his antacid tablets.
“Herr Gluckmann. Such a delight to see you.” Ms. Rossetti held out her hand and the German bent formally to kiss her fingers.
“You look absolutely enchanting, Ms. Rossetti.”
“Please, call me Amandella, Herr Gluckmann, if I may indulge myself and call you Klaus,” she replied as she slipped her arm around his.
The German beamed broadly. “You may even call me ‘Santa Klaus’ if it would delight you, Amandella.” Amandella giggled and wriggled her nose playfully.
Parku led the way to their table in order to disguise his slightly green coloration. As they were seated, Parku decided to break the ice on the negotiations to make himself feel better.
“So, Herr Gluckmann, I think you have been well briefed on the financial operations of Channel ZMI. Surely we can agree that a three percent rate of interest on the stage one financial package is a more than acceptable return on investment given the current business climate.”
“Parku, please,” scolded Ms. Rossetti. “You’re insulting our guest. Surely he would prefer a six percent rate of interest.”
“I would much prefer a twelve percent rate of interest. Nothing personal, I assure you Herr Parkuramathanafar. My shareholders have been taking considerable risks to stabilize the housing markets.”
“Please, Klaussy baby, fourteen is much much better. It’s my favorite number.”
Klaus patted her fingers. “If you insist, my dear.”
Parku held on to the table to keep his world from spinning. Fourteen percent interest meant that Channel ZMI was going to go bankrupt in six months even with the loan. This was insane. Then Parku noticed that Eduardo Ducas just walked into the restaurant with some American bimbo on his arm. Her silver and gold American cocktail dress was at least slightly more dignified than Ms. Rossetti’s garment. Perhaps he could persuade them to exchange.
“Herr Gluckmann, Ms. Rossetti, please excuse me for a few moments,” he said as he stood up from the table. The couple seemed to be too absorbed in small talk to notice.
“I have a present for you, Klausy Wausy.”
“Ah, for me? You shouldn’t have. What is it?”
Amandella smiled and dove down under the table. There she crawled around between his legs and began to unzip his fly. The waiter decided to pick this moment to drop down on the table to pick up the orders.
“Perhaps Señor is ready to peruse the wine list.”
Klaus squirmed as soft lips slid down his hard shaft. “We’ll have… the best wine of the house.”
“Chateau Montefalto is four hundred and forty euros a bottle, Señor?”
Klaus tried to hide his instinct to squirm from the waiter by holding onto the table firmly. “And I’d like to order…” A jolt of pleasure as a tongue swirled around his balls made him jump a bit in his seat. “…the house special.”
“And for Señorita?”
“She’ll have the… pork... err… sword.” Klaus cringed at his inadvertent choice of words.
“And the pork pasta primavera for Señorita,” the waiter corrected before departing.
Eduardo gaped when he saw Parku coming at him like a madman on steroids.
Parku confronted Eduardo. “Outside. Now. Good evening, Miss.” Then he stormed out through the doors.
“It’s just business, Claudia. Get a table for two and I’ll be right with you.” Eduardo left Claudia behind to confront Parku in the back of the valet parking lot.
“Eduardo, you idiot! You sent me the wrong CD! You’ve ruined everything! I’m going to sue your ass off.”
“Wait, Parku, wait. What do you mean I ruined everything?”
“You turned my boss into some kind of Asian hooker. She just gave away the whole station to this German guy. Now we’re ruined! Ruined! All because of you.”
Eduardo slapped his forehead. “My god. My god. And if you got that CD… that can only mean that…”
Parku and Eduardo turned to see a petite French woman in a bright purple satin corset-dress pulling Vittorio into the restaurant by his tie.
“Ok, you try to manage your boss and I’ll try to save Vittorio. Let’s move.”
Claudia was escorted to her table and given a menu by the sympathetic waiter. To her left, the German man sitting alone seemed to be floating on cloud nine. To her right, a French woman in a bright purple dress was perusing the wine list while her boyfriend looked on helplessly.
“Waiter,” the French woman ordered. “We’re going to order the Chateau Montefalto to begin.”
“But Margot, that’s so expensive. I can’t afford it.”
“Just try to sit still and look pretty, Vittorio, or no sex for you tonight. Let me handle the money. Thank you, waiter.”
“Excuse me, waiter,” Claudia interjected.
“Yes, Señorita?”
“What did the gentleman sitting alone at the next table order?”
“That is the house special, Senorita.”
At the moment, Amandella popped up from underneath the table and began wiping the sticky cum from her face with her napkin.
Margot smiled broadly. “Look at that, Vittorio. That woman really is dedicated to pleasing her man. Why can’t you be that attentive to my whims?”
Vittorio blushed red. “But Margot, we’re in public.”
Margot lifted the edge of the tablecloth. “Down boy. Now!”
Vittorio closed his eyes and ducked down under the table to where Margot’s parted legs – and no underwear, of course—were waiting for him.
Parku finally returned to his seat to discover Herr Gluckmann and Ms. Rossetti chatting amiably.
“Herr Gluckmann, please, I must apologize for Ms. Rossetti’s behavior. I can assure you that her views in no way represent the views of Channel ZMI and the Board of Directors will be notified immediately about her egregious behavior.”
“That is not necessary, Herr… um…. pardon me, what was your name again?”
“Just call me Parku.”
“Yes, Herr Parku. Amandella and I have just concluded a deal that you will find, let us say uniquely advantageous. Would you care to tell him, my dear, or should I?”
“Oh, you do it, Klaus. You make it sound so strong and decisive.”
“Very well. Amandella has agreed that Channel ZMI and my financial company should execute a complete merger.”
“But… but… that would mean…”
“Yes, it would mean that you would get a completely interest-free loan for all of your operating expenses. I will be the new CEO, of course, and you, Herr Parku, will be promoted to President of Channel ZMI. Amandella here will be promoted to my personal executive secretary.”
“I’m sure we will be working closely together, Klaus,” Amandella giggled.
“That’s excellent news,” Parku exclaimed. “Absolutely brilliant. We should order champagne to celebrate.”
The waiter arrived at exactly that moment with a bottle of champagne. Parku fretted a moment about this cost, but if his new boss was paying their bills from now on, who was he to argue?
Eduardo returned to his table just as a red-faced Vittorio was crawling back out from underneath his table.
Margot swooned. “You’re not bad for a first timer, Vittorio. After I get you fitted for your collar, I’ll make sure to give you lots of practice.”
“Um… Vittorio… I’m sorry if I sent you the wrong CD earlier.”
“Eduardo. It’s you? Oh, forget about the CD. I’m doing just fine, thank you.” Vittorio smiled broadly. “Whatever you say, Mistress Margot.”
Eduardo finally sat down at his table where Claudia was waiting patiently for him. The waiter was there at his side.
“Señor may wish to know that the Chateau Montefalto along with the house special is only a mere five hundred euros.”
“I’ll have the… chicken caeser salad… and Claudia, what would you like?”
“Pardon me, Señor,” the waiter interrupted. “I think you should order the house special.”
“But I don’t want the house special. I want the salad.”
“Trust me, Señor. Order the house special.”
“Alright, I’ll order the house special and Claudia will have the chicken caesar salad.”
“Enjoy, Señor,” spoke the waiter as he departed.
Eduardo looked over to Claudia. “What’s so special about the house special?”
“You’re going to find out in about sixty seconds.” Her eyes twinkled as she ducked down under the table.