by Sasha Kale
Jen balled her fists she wanted to scream in his face: I want your fucking approval, you shithead. I want a raise. A bigger office. I want your father to come out of coma and slap my ass when he visits the accounting department. I know it's wrong and I have a boyfriend but it makes feel good, okay? "I want to make difference," she said. //chord struck
Wanting to make a difference was something Devon could relate to. There were a few embers left in Devon's inner fire and she just stoked it. Foom, woosh, and all that jazz.
"How do you want to make a difference?"
"This woman lost her husband in fire. He was a firefighter. He died saving a little girl."
Bully for him. "Okay..."
How do I put this in a way he’ll understand. "And she wants to get laid."
Everybody wants to get laid, big fuckin’ whoopie cushion. "So send her tickets to Hedonism. Is she ugly?"
"No she's extremely attractive."
"I never heard of a hot chick who couldn't get laid whenever she wanted it."
"She wants to get fucked, Devon. By an entire ladder of firefighters."
Is that like a gaggle of geese? What a world. "Easy. We can accommodate that."
Jen wasn't finished. "In a burning building."
Bit more difficult. “You got it.”
"And she wants all the firefighters to look like her dead husband."
Holy shit. "How do you know all that?" It was a tall order but it wasn't the craziest thing he'd ever heard of.
The craziest thing Devon ever heard of
Back in the day Devon’s father used to tell a story about this nurse named Meadow who wanted to get fucked on a medieval torture device. And it went something like this:
This 45-year-old fox, Meadow, came to us because she wanted to get ruined. She wanted to get tied up on a rack and pulled apart sorta like that guy from Braveheart except she wouldn’t be standing she she’d be laying on a plank of wood. She had the money so we set it up for her. We even gave her a discount because she let us watch from the other side of a two-way mirror.
At each corner of the wooden table her hands were bound. An iron handle slowly cranked and fat coils of rope pulled her wrists and ankles apart. She was naked and her nipples were hard. Her hair was done up fancy like she was going to a Roman wedding. Around her neck was silver necklace with her ex-husband’s photo in a locket. She opened the locket and made him watch.
As the rack slowly tugged her open, revealing her vulnerable spots, the men arrived. Men wearing dark-purple cloaks and hoods trimmed with gold. They filed into the stone room which was decorated like a dungeon. They stood against the dirty walls with candles in their hands. They watched from the shadows while candlelight danced on the ceiling. When Meadow was stretched open to the point of pain, a male dominatrix dressed like a hooded-executioner came into the room and clamped her nipples. Tugged on them until she screamed. Then went to work on her pussy. Ate her out in front of all those people. Red tongue snaking out of his hood. He pleasured her with his tongue and his gloved fingers as she said shit like, “Oh yeah. Fuck yeah. Just like that. Work that pussy.” Once she was good and wet, the hooded men placed their candles on the ground and started chanting this Latin shit as they watched her squirm. Everybody sweating under the hot torches hanging from the ceiling. It’s like a gothic sauna in there. Dangerous. Humid. Splinters in Meadow’s ass from the rough wood of the rack. When she was moaning loud enough to wake the dead, the executioner asked if she wanted to confess her sins. Meadow said yes. At this point she was panting like they’d cast a spell on her. Almost delirious like she was on LSD. Voice all trembly and slow-like. “Yes….I’m…ready…now. Tell him to…come and see…me. I’m so horny. I’m such a bad girl. I’m such a naughty little nurse.” She tried to reach for her clit but snarled when she remembered she was tied up. She wanted to rub her pussy the way chicks do when you’re fucking them. She moans and she strains but the rope is tight.
Then in walks a priest. A real priest. Not a bull dressed up like a priest, a genuine Catholic fuckin’ priest that we flew over from Ireland. The men in cloaks formed a line next to her Meadow’s head and pulled out their cocks. The priest cranked the rack again and Meadow screamed with pleasure. She was so turned on by the pain and the humiliation of all these men seeing her naked and borderline tortured. Only her ex-husband had ever seen her naked and now all these guys were drinking her in. Later she said she felt like the biggest slut in all of history. All these men hearing the moans of pleasure only her husband ought to hear. And the big kicker was all the guys in hoods were former patients of hers. Meadow was their nurse at the Toronto General. These were guys she wanted to blow in the hospital but never could because, one, she was married, and two she didn’t want to get fired.
So the priest took off his clergy robe and underneath he was buck naked. Meadow could see he was pale but he had a decent body for a priest. His pubic hair was bright red. Cock was large and freshly cleaned with holy water. His dick was bigger than any of the guys with hoods. Dick hard and kept hard with a cock ring studded with little ivory crucifixes. The priest got up on the rack and shoved his robe under Meadow's ass to prop her pussy up. "Tell me all your secrets, my child." He grabbed the metal chain hanging between her clamped nipples and then he stuck his cock in her. Motioned to the hooded men. Each one of them face-fucked her. In between sucking their dicks she confessed her sins. She even let a few of them to choke her and pull on her hair which at his point was in total disarray. They all came in her mouth and it’s a fucking miracle she didn’t choke to death. Cum dripped down her face onto the stone. Giant pools of it. She swallowed so much cum she's was barely conscious. Like she was being waterboarded by a wall of cocks. The priest blew his load inside her cunt but stayed hard because his cock ring. He just kept fucking her. More guys stream into the room. It’s like those Japanese films called bukake. It's a line-up a mile long of guys she wanted to cum on her. When it's done it looks someone poured a vat of liquid icing on her. Whole thing took about two hours from start to finish. Nine months later she gives birth to a kid with red hair.
“And that’s some wild fuckin’ shit, ain’t it, boy?” Devon’s father had said.
On this issue, they were on the same page.
Back to the meeting
RECAP: Jennifer had just mentioned how Deborah wanted to get fucked by a ladder of firefighters in a burning building and all the firefighters had to look like her head husband, and Devon asked how in the seven hells of fucksville she could possibly know that.
"She posted it on Twitter," said Jennifer. Actually it was her online journal that Deborah thought she had set to private. But you're not that bright, Devon so we'll just leave it at Twitter. You understand Twitter, don't you, Baywatch?
Devon understood Twitter. A whole ladder of firefighters fucking her in a burning building and they all had to look like the same jerk-off. Alrighty then. This is doable. They could arrange almost anything at Fantasy Club. Get those masks like they use the Mission Impossible movies where everybody looks like Tom Cruise. Gotta be something like that available. If money can put a man on the moon then money can do anything. Doug from Studio FX can build the set. Fake fire and holograms instead real fire because fuck that shit, and we dress the gladiator studs up as firefighters. Easy deal, Jack. "$150,000 one-time fee ought to cover it."
Jennifer smacked her forehead. He hadn't been listening at all.
"I want to set it up for her free of charge."
"Okay, but who pays for it?"
"We pay for it. The company, I mean."
Jesus, he thought, she's being serious. What a waste of time this was. I should have had Raven lick my asshole and maybe shove her finger up there. A finger in your ass feels pretty good though the first time is a bit of a shock.
He pointed at the door. "Out."
"Just wait a goddamn second and let me explain. There can be financial benefits to giving away services to the right people."
"No expla
nation needed, thank you for time, miss whatever-your-last-name-is from junior accounting but I thought this was a serious meeting." He gave her the thumb and the head roll. Beat it, toots.
Dejected, she hit the bricks. On her way out she blurted out in a single breath of air, "It was just that I thought you might want to help out the girl you went to prom with."
Wait.
What?
Deborah Ann? I haven’t talked to that girl in a hundred years. “What are you talking about?”
"She's waiting for you in conference room one."
Devon was pissed. “You dug into my past?” He was going to add, “You are so fuckin’ fired,” but instead went with, "Get rid of her."
"You get rid of her." Jennifer bolted for the stairs and left Devon with to deal with Deborah the hot potato.
It was fast and ugly
Deborah and Devon had impromptu high-school reunion in conference room one.
Lot of junky conversation like: How are you, fine, you? Oh I’m okay. That’s great. Sorry I’m late there was this thing in the road. Don’t worry about it. So what are you up to these days? Wow that’s neat. Do you still talk to anybody from student council? No me either.
Queue the stupid joke.
Little bit of bragging.
I heard about Tom, I’m so very sorry, yadda yadda yadda.
Talk turned to business and Devon told her there had been a giant misunderstanding and the employee that told her to show up here in a prom dress had been disciplined.
“Oh thank god, I thought she wanted me to eat her out.” Deborah’s hand slapped over her mouth. Where’s that come from? Her cheeks got red as she realized Devon was in charge of this giant temple devoted to love and fucking.
“I gotta go.”
“Okay”.
As an afterthought he gave Deborah his cell phone number. “We should get coffee sometime or whatever.”
They didn’t set a date for coffee. Figure it out later.
Deborah left.
They don’t exchange any text messages until three weeks later.
Jennifer was reprimanded when Reginald got back from vacation. He was angrier when he discovered people had been fucking in in his office. Multiple times it seemed by the various stains and overall stickiness of his desk. Worst of all his desk plant had been murdered. It had been his best friend in the office. Fine, Reggy thought, but this means war. I’m gonna find who killed my plant and I’m gonna eat their lunch. Then I’m gonna shit on their desk.
Three weeks and a few days later
Devon’s in his mansion with his indoor swimming pool and marble statues. Deborah looked him up on Google and discovered he is rich beyond her wildest dreams. He could go on online and order anything he wanted. Ten of anything. He had people. People that would bring him stuff. Drugs. Girls. Everything. Nothing.
Deborah’s in her shitty apartment. It looks empty now that Tom’s stuff is all packed away in boxes. Deborah’s sex cravings went Gone Girl and totally vanished. She started working back at the library and all the children had told her how good it was she was back. Her friends say she’s looking great. She tells them she is feeling great.
Both are miserable.
Neither have gotten laid since their encounter in conference room one. Devon’s been turning away slave-girls and Deborah stopped wearing make-up. Fantasy Club is the last thing on either of their minds. Devon took a leave of absence and found out nobody gave a shit. The library got along fine without Deborah.
It’s 2AM and everything sucks.
“Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
2:03 AM on Saturday. On a 90 inch LED TV screen, Humphrey Bogart strolled into the fog with whoever it was that played Captain Renault.
Devon was camped out in his father’s custom home theater. His theater, really, as soon as Johan dies. His mother would get nothing. The lawyers and the prenup would see to that. A prenup linebacked by the best bloodsucking lawyers money could buy. Devon would get everything. He was a good boy though and he’d share some of it with his mother. Probably.
But who knows? Money makes people fuckin’ stupid.
Casablanca finished up and the credits started rolling. Devon always made an effort to watch the credits. But tonight he was suddenly overcome with a burst of emotion. He hit STOP and then launched the Blu-Ray remote across the room. It smashed into the cedar humidor and shattered into plastic shards. Two batteries popped out and rolled across the hardwood in opposite directions. Fuck it. Devon pulled out his phone and texted Deborah Ann.
Are you up?
Yeah
What are you doing?
Reading
I just finished watching Casablanca
Good for you.
No need to bite my head off
Are you drinking?
No
I don’t believe you
Come over and smell my breath
It’s late and I work in the morning
Who works on a Sunday?
Librarians
That’s hot
Okay?
So you want to get coffee or something this week?
I don’t think that’s a good idea, Devon
Why not?
Because we have a history and you work at that weird sex place
What do u mean wierd sex place? You showed up there
I wasn't myself.
Oh okay then then I guess I remember high school totally wrong cause u used to be into stuff
No I wasn't.
U gave me my first blow job in front of like 100 people
Psshhhhhh
?
It was like maybe 10 people.
It was a house party their was tonnes of ppl
I wanted to win truth or dare.
U won all right, you won me all over ur face
It was a fun party, everybody was so horny. But I’m a different person now. I work at the library.
I jack off to the memory of that party sometimes. All those other guys wishing they were me. All the girls cheering and telling you to "suck that dick". Everybody wanted to see you swallow it
I never swallowed your cum, Devon.
I bet you swallowed the firefighter's cum tho
He was my husband and that's none of your business.
How come we didn't have sex after prom?
Because you ditched me to go get drunk on Mel’s boat. Anyway I have to sleep. Goodnight!
Okay goodnite
Devon’s father was a real jerk
Johan had tried to talk him out of taking Deb to prom. Said her family was poor and therefore lazy. She had lazy blood running through her veins. If he got her pregnant, Johan would cut him off. Devon shoved him and they fought. His father trounced him easily. He had spent many hours in an upscale gym. Years of boxing training with a professional coach. Johan had an uppercut hook that could knock you back to WW2.
Devon took a wicked meat hook right in the temple. Woke up on the floor seconds later. KO'd by the old man, and not for the first time.
His father was standing over him. Menacing. Red-faced like a butcher. "Break up with that bitch after prom or find a new place to live."
“I love her.”
“You’ll get over it. But hey, it’s a free country, do what you want. But if you’re not in the office tomorrow at 8AM ready to start learning the business then tomorrow you’re on the street.”
Devon broke up with Deborah but he didn’t show up to Fantasy Club the next morning. He didn’t speak to his father again for several years.
Good looks, money, and free time
text from Devon: Hey what's up?
I'm working.
You work alot!
Not everyone has rich parents
You want to go for coffee? I'm in the neighbourhood
I can't I'm busy
U don't look busy
Deborah Ann looked up from her stool at the returns counter and saw him standing near the movies and T
V shows. He was trying to pretend like he didn't see her looking at him. They kept texting.
What are you doing here?
Looking for a Stephen King book
You're in the totally wrong section
Show me where it is then
If I show you where the fiction books are will you go away?
Ya
She crossed the room and grabbed his shoulder to steer him in the right direction. All the fiction books were upstairs. The main floor was for non-fiction, magazines, newspapers, kid’s books, and the computers people used for Facebook and Minecraft.
"This way, moron." It’s upstairs. But you probably already knew that because there’s a giant sign on the door right as you walk in that says: LOOKING FOR FICTION? LOOK NO FURTHER! What sort of game are you playing at here?
"You look nice today."
Her cheeks got a little rosier and she said, "Thanks."
Devon wore a tight black T-shirt and faded jeans. He looked really hot, Deborah thought. Like he didn't belong in this place at all. A movie star wandering into ordinary people's lives. Grabbing his shoulder was a mistake. It felt so strong. Like he's made out of concrete. He wasn't like that in high school. Sure he was cute but now he's a man. Rough and hard. Nice amount of fuzz on his face and neck.
"This way," she said, breathlessly. Gotta get rid of him fast before he starts making me wet. I didn't bring my purse with extra underwear in it. Fuck I'm stupid. No. Wait. Remember the TV. I'm a strong and confident woman. I don't need a man to be fulfilled.
"Man, it's hot in here," he said, lifting up his shirt to wipe his brow.
Deborah got a great view of his washboard stomach as they walked up the stairs. Tanned and ripped like an action hero. Big scar running up his side. Tattoo of a wolf snarling in the middle of his chest. His forearms bigger than a scrawny guy’s biceps. She loved that in a guy. Huge forearms. Huge biceps. She loved to be grabbed around her middle, thrown over a shoulder, and carried her to the bedroom and screwed like she was being taken by caveman.