by Duncan More
“Martha Creighton is here for a loan. I think you should meet her. A little background. She buys properties, fixes them up and flips them. She just bought one that’s going to be more expensive to fix than she estimated. She’s asking for 25K. Don’t be misled by her appearance. She’s not one for fancy clothes even when coming to a bank for a loan. Jeans and a sweatshirt or whatever she feels comfortable in. Anyway, since her girlfriend is on the board of directors, it will be approved automatically.”
“What’s her track record?”
“Everyone should be like her. Probably fifteen short term loans in the last ten years. Always paid off months ahead of schedule. I could do all the paperwork if you want. Just thought you should get to meet her.”
“Fine. Invite her in.”
As she was ushered in, Dillon rose and shook her hand. “Ms. Creighton, I’m Dillon Evans – the new head of this department.” It was a firm handshake he received.
“Howdy. Call me Marty. I’ll call you Dillon. I’ve seen you at Wayne’s. You’re the guy boffing Gia, aren’t you? My girlfriend told me you really know your banking stuff.”
“Yes, I am, and thank you for the compliment.”
“Just like to get things out in the open. I guess Ms. Williams already told you this loan will almost automatically be approved.”
“Yes.”
“So what do you need to know?”
“Just curious about some things, I guess. Ms. Williams said I should meet and get to know you. Where is this property?”
“Scranton, 1475 Willow Avenue – two story – seven rooms, full basement, 1/2 acre lot, carport and driveway. Sheriff’s sale after another bank’s repo.”
“Cost?”
“I got it for 78 grand. Figured on 12 to 15 grand to fix it up.”
“And the problem?”
“Sewers and it really needs a new roof and chimney. Those are things I can’t do myself. Indoor plumbing, electrical, carpentry, painting, no problem. Plus, there is an old maple tree on the property that definitely needs a tree surgeon’s skillful pruning to make it safer.”
“What do you think will be the resale value when you’re finished with it?”
“I’d say between $150 and $175. Probably closer to the $175.”
“Then I think you should just let Ms. Williams finish off the paperwork. Are you sure 25 is enough?”
“Oh yes. Got one on the market right now and one almost ready. Just this one became available when extra funds were tied up.”
“Well, it was nice to formally meet you. Gia is doing a show this Friday if you are out and about.”
“Should be. Her performances always make me feel good. Except that one where she was deep-throating that plastic thingy. But as I said, she’s 95% entertaining.”
“Well, go see Ms. Williams. And I hope you get what you’re asking for the current house.”
From his office Dillon watched her finish the paperwork with Mavis. There were several other applicants that morning – two for car loans and one for a short-term college loan for his son’s fall term tuition, as a scholarship was late in funding. Just before lunch, Dillon called Mavis to make sure he had the address correct for Marty’s new project.
“Mind if I see you for a few minutes?” she asked.
“Sure. Come on in.”
She seated herself at his desk and immediately started crying. “Oh, Mr. Evans. I’m sorry. I thought I could handle it but I just got another one.”
“Another what?”
“Another filthy e-mail from a Dick Long. They’re all about you and they’re pretty disgusting. This makes the fourth one in a week. I never check my e-mail until lunchtime. Then over lunch I get time to think how I want to answer them or how I can find the information requested. But these letters are just pure filth. Today’s e-mail wanted to know if I was being nice to a fag because I want to get into bed and fuck with you or get you to have oral sex with me. I’m sorry. I don’t use that word but that’s what the letter said. I don’t even know how this guy got my business e-mail address. We’ve never done business with a Dick Long. I already checked the files.”
“I’m pretty sure the name is fake. A guy bragging he has a long penis. Look. Don’t you worry. I’ve been getting them too. But I’m pretty sure they’re going to stop. I feel confident that I have figured out who this guy is. Would you forward the complete e-mail to me? I want to check the IP address.”
“The what?”
“The IP address. Tells me what computer the e-mail was sent from. Send me the others, too, if you didn’t delete them.”
“Oh, I did. I don’t want that trash on my computer.”
“I’m pretty good with computers. I bet it’s still there. Just pull yourself together and go out and enjoy a nice lunch. I will take care of this. May I have your permission to access your computer? Should you get any more of these, don’t open them; just forward them to me for evidence. And don’t you worry about anything, or me, for that matter. I have as much respect for you as I do my mother, and I’m so sorry this Dick Long is targeting you to get to me.”
“And you have my respect, too, sir. You’ve made working here a pleasure instead of just a job.” With her composure regained, she rose and left the office.
He was almost completely certain that Boyd had gone beyond the realm of tolerable actions. He had formulated a plan to deal with Boyd and confirm his undermining, but now it was salad time and Eugene would be arriving shortly. It was nice they had this brief time together in the middle of the day. He looked forward to it, and today he’d tell him about Marty’s visit and praise.
Alone in the office while the three others were still on lunch break, Dillon scavenged Mavis’ computer, found the deleted e-mails and forwarded them to himself.
“Mr. Hopkins, will you come into my office?” Dillon asked Boyd about an hour after he returned from lunch. “I have a little problem. Someone stopped in this morning for a loan and didn’t have either an appraisal or pictures of the property they wanted to use as collateral. You live in Scranton, don’t you?”
“Yes. In the Hill section.”
“Well, the property sounds interesting, but with no pictures or any idea of the property’s value, I can’t very well recommend that we grant this loan. I was thinking, how about if you knock off early – drive by this place, take a few pictures, give me your rough estimate of its value, and e-mail them to me before I go home. I should be here until at least four this afternoon.”
“I’d like to but my phone isn’t smart enough to send e-mail. I’d have to do that from my computer at home.”
“No problem. As I said, I’ll be here until four. Here’s the address and particulars: 1475 Willow Avenue – two story – seven rooms, full basement, 1/2 acre lot, carport and driveway. It’s nearly one-thirty. Take off. I’ll be waiting for your e-mail.”
“Might I ask how much of a loan they want?”
“$112,000.”
“I can save you some time. Homes on Willow aren’t worth that much.”
“Well, you are probably right. You know more about property values in this area than I do. However, I will need the documentation to justify a refusal. Just send me the pictures and your rough appraisal and enjoy the rest of the day off.”
Boyd Hopkins wasted no time getting out of the bank. A few hours off was a pleasant surprise. Maybe working for a faggot wouldn’t be so bad. He even briefly imagined his new boss, like his wife and some old college girlfriends, giving him some oral service, down on his knees under his desk, bobbing up and down between Boyd’s spread legs. His little pride and joy didn’t get that much attention at home anymore other than some of his own hand action with a bar of soap in the shower now and then. As he drove south to Willow Avenue, he even felt himself hardening a little as he thought about a pair of lips at work on him. He even had to reposition his equipment while driving, as it wanted to harden even more.
He knew he had plenty of time to get the pictures, get home, downloa
d them to his computer, and send Dillon the information. It was then he really got an urge to feel a load exploding from his balls. And fate, whether cruel or kind, brought a memory to him. Back when he was in college, there was an adult bookstore with booths and sex videos. How many times had he and a few friends gone there, dropped a few tokens in their respective booths and shot off all over the screen and left? And that bookstore used to be only two blocks from Willow on Maple Avenue. He took the detour and there it was – just like it had been twenty-five years earlier. Just a somber grey stucco exterior and one small sign on the door saying Exotica, the name he had long ago forgotten. Inside was not much different. Rows of cellophane-wrapped magazines in peg board holders on the wall, a glass display case filled with room odorizers and small leather accent pieces. Only the clerk was different. Now it was a heavily pierced, completely tattooed skinny guy with black hair pulled back into a bun, not the balding short fat guy of years ago who always had a smile on his face.
He reached into his wallet and extracted a five and got a fistful of tokens. The clerk pointed him to the back room through a curtain and handed him a few tissues, saying, “Clean up your mess when you’re done. Leave the booth clean for the next guy.” He parted the curtain and the old long-forgotten but familiar smell of Clorox assaulted his nostrils as soon as he entered the large grey room filled with video machines lining the walls and action pictures of what happened in the respective movies. He had forgotten how dimly lit the back was. He almost didn’t see another guy there at first, looking at the pictures outside a distant booth. He just headed for one of the booths, pulled the curtain closed, dropped in a few tokens, and watched some blond giving head to a guy in a cowboy outfit – blue jeans, flannel shirt, brown leather vest, and a cowboy hat. She wasn’t that good – toying only with the head and stroking his shaft. He wondered how many tokens it would take before he would see the ramming cock in her pussy as he pulled his own dick out and started stroking. He set the tissues beside him on the little bench and spread his legs to enjoy the feel of his hand at work bouncing against his balls. This was going to be a slow session, not like at home where he’d jerk off in the bathroom in a hurry before his wife would be clamoring to use the sink and mirror to do her makeup.
Suddenly the curtain was pulled briefly aside. “You mind if I join you? That video sounds so hot – listening to him moan. She must be sucking him off.” It was the guy he had barely noticed. He looked college age, rather preppy in appearance. “I ran out of tokens before I came. Only take me a few minutes of watching. He was already unzipped and his cock was sticking out, already at full attention.”
This was something Boyd had never experienced. Always before, it was always solo. No one ever disturbed him back in his college days. He came, he watched his video, he shot his load, and then he went for a few drinks with his buddies when they were finished with their videos.
“She’s not that good at sucking, is she? I could do better if you’d like.” His hand reached over to feel Boyd’s erection. “Oh yeah, I could have fun pleasing this.”
“Get the fuck away from me. Get out of here. What made you think I’d want your lips on my dick? I’m just waiting until he starts eating her out.”
“Sorry. I just thought you wanted to get off and I’d be glad to help you.”
“No fucking way. So leave.”
The young man quickly left the booth. He wanted no trouble and Boyd’s voice was getting loud. The young man didn’t want the clerk finding out what he was trying to do.
Boyd quickly zipped up and high-tailed it out of the store, not even heeding the clerk who was asking if he properly disposed of his tissues. “Guess he didn’t want any assistance from Clyde,” he muttered to himself.
“What the fuck!” Boyd thought to himself as he slid behind the wheel and headed to Willow Avenue. “Are guys suddenly getting into other guys when they should be plowing pussy like that cowboy was about to do?” Things were certainly different nowadays – not like his college days. Bookstores were for relief so guys didn’t knock up their girlfriends and fuck up their lives. He’d have to tell his old buddy Martin what happened when he ran into him at their next class reunion. He was sure they’d have a good laugh.
He parked the car in front of 1475 Willow Avenue and took several pictures. His expert eye quickly evaluated the property, and at most it was worth maybe 75 grand if it had a new roof.
He went home, transferred the pictures to his computer, and sent Dillon the photos and his estimate. Then he headed to the bedroom and stripped. He spread out on the bed and began some self-manipulation but it wasn’t working. The thought of the stranger’s hand on his dick repulsed him. Only his wife and a few girls back in college touched him, and that a man even only briefly touched him made him feel a little dirty. He headed to the shower and soaped himself, and sent his sperm swirling down the drain.
Dillon eventually opened Boyd’s e-mail and printed out the pictures and gave them to Mavis to append to Marty’s formal application. And then he checked the IP address and had the satisfaction of confirming that all the bullying messages had come from the same computer – 224.47.15.163. He knew there was going to be a long conversation with Eugene about Boyd. He obviously had no respect for Dillon, was undermining the working of the whole department, failed to adequately research Cashwire, had called the judge and spread lies, and now was harassing Mavis as well. Should he handle the problem with or without Mr. Fredericks? Might it be better to bring Sam back into the department? Fire Boyd or get him transferred? These were all things that he needed to discuss with Eugene before reaching a decision. Eugene knew these people and had worked with them for years.
Chapter Fifteen
“We’ve got to talk,” Dillon said as soon as he got home.
Panic and terror immediately overtook Eugene. The last time someone had said those words with such determination was over three years ago. Derrick had called him and wanted to meet him at Fever Forever immediately after the bank closed. That was after a three-week relationship that had seemed to be really developing into serious romantic bonding. There had even been talk about moving into a new apartment together. “I can’t see you anymore. My company is flying me out to San Francisco tonight at 10:00 to take over supervision of seventeen stores, getting them all up to company standards for displays and procedures. Just fired one of their district managers. Evidently he was caught screwing a sixteen-year-old girl who worked in one of the stores. I thought I was set for life here in Northeastern Pennsylvania. Last word I had was that they were so pleased they were going to include the North Central counties as well as the southern tier of New York into my region. Now this bomb. Once I get settled, maybe you could move out there with me. Now, how about one quick toast together, and then I have to go pack my personal shit. The company, like the US military, will move everything else out there. I’m so sorry, honey.” And that was it. No further word from Derrick. Not even a Christmas card.
“Why? What’s wrong?” he finally managed to utter as his voice trembled.
“Boyd. I don’t know what to do with him.”
“What do you mean?” Eugene asked, a little more relieved.
“Here. Read these.” He handed Eugene copies of all Boyd’s threatening e-mails as well as those he had sent to Mrs. Williams.
“Oh my god! These are disgusting. How do you know Boyd sent these?”
“I had him go and take some pictures of a new house that Marty Creighton is buying and e-mail them to me from home. Same fucking computer. Same IP address.”
“I see. You’re his boss. Tell him you know what he has been doing, have the proof, and that they had better stop immediately or there will be repercussions.”
“Oh, but that’s not all. He’s tried to turn Ms. Williams and Sam Waters against me. Didn’t work with Greg. Are you aware Greg has a gay son? Well, he does.” He went on to reiterate the other grievances he had against Boyd, including Cashwire.
“Boy, that really mak
es a difference. What do you plan to do?”
“I don’t know. That’s really what we need to talk about.”
“Well, you could handle it yourself. Inform Boyd that as head of the department, you are keeping a personnel file on all employees, and in his file the letters are the first entry, the lack of diligence on this Cashwire thing is second, and there will be no use of bank computers for personal business. You can tell him there will be a positive on the way he took the pictures and gave an estimate, but a third negative will force you to discuss termination with Mr. Fredericks. That’s how I’d handle it. On the other hand, if you want him out, discuss the situation with Mr. Fredericks since the judge was the one who received the phone call. You could possibly get Mr. Fredericks to fire him or transfer him to another department. Remember what Mr. Fredericks said when he told us about that phone call. ‘It’s your department – handle it as you see fit.’ That brings up a third option – ask Boyd if he would like to transfer departments if he can’t work with you, and say that you would expedite such a request.”
“I like that idea. You think Sam Waters would be amenable to returning to mortgage and loan if he wasn’t the boss?”
“I don’t know. I think he sort of enjoys being out front meeting people. I believe he is much happier lately.”
“Shit. I still feel a little guilty about that.”
“Well, don’t. It’s not your fault he fucked up.”
“You’ve given me a lot to think about tonight. By the way, what are you going to perform at Wayne’s on Friday? Something for Marty and her girlfriend?”
“I hadn’t thought about anything yet. But boy does that give me a wild idea. What if I combine Aretha Franklin’s ‘You Make Me Feel like a Natural Woman’ and Shania Twain’s ‘Feel like a Woman’? I’ll bet I could come up with something just for her. But I gotta be careful. Last time I targeted someone with ‘Mickey’, look what it got me!”
“I don’t know that first song, but couldn’t you direct it to several of the girls?”