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It shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. I should be fucking focused on learning and on making a good impression. I breezed through college on my scholarship and sports and fun, and treated my business studies as a necessary evil.
Well, now the evil has taken over my life. Okay, it’s not that bad, but finding the requisite excitement is tough. Landing a job at a multimillion corporation with branches everywhere in the world is a good thing. Even if my tasks are limited to secretarial stuff so far. Write letters. Type up stuff. Make photocopies. Make phone calls.
Hey, it will get better. I will be given more responsibilities, climb the ladder, learn more about the company and its goals. I kno
w it’s my first job, and time is of the essence. Patience, is what my parents keep telling me. And they’re right.
But when was I ever known for my patience?
And when was I interested in oil, natural gas and investments? I love running, playing video games with Jethro, chasing chicks, reading about ancient history, checking on my little sister—who’s not so little anymore, as she often reminds me—and cooking.
Hey, sometimes when thinking bogs me down, doing something with my hands helps. I sort of switch off, and at the end of it, there’s something good to eat, too. Win-win.
Besides, I’m in charge of feeding Jethro, who often forgets that breathing isn’t enough sustenance. Fucker owes me. I hope he appreciates it.
Speaking of doing something with my hands… Even better would be to use them on the girl at the bookstore. Why didn’t I ask her name? Why didn’t I ask her out?
Next time. I’m going back, and I’ll do what Jet said. I’ll win her over.
I grin as I get up and march down the corridor between offices to the printer, to collect my letters. Nia waves at me from the reception desk and adjusts her cleavage. Girl’s got impressive tits, and a pretty face, but I’m not interested. I hope she’ll get the message one day.
Jimmy nods at me, mimics having coffee, and I shrug. He’s nice, but he’s coming on too hard. Wouldn’t be the first time, and Jet always fucking laughs at me when that happens. Well, fuck it. I’m not into guys. Only chicks do it for me.
Speaking of chicks… I may need more books. About cooking, and sports, world history, and just about anything, probably. As long as a certain pigtailed girl with glasses can help me out… I wonder if she plays videogames, if she likes fantasy. Maybe history, too?
I stop so suddenly outside the printer room I almost fall over.
What the fuck? I’ve never given a chick more thought than how to take her clothes off as fast as possible. Do it fast, get off fast, walk out and forget about it. Why am I so curious about her? I’ve only met her once. She wasn’t even dressed in anything sexy.
Her hair was in pigtails, for chrissakes.
I’d tug on them. Lift her short skirt. Spank her ass. Tell Jet to hold her while I go down on her and—
Fucking shitballs. What’s wrong with me these days? Tell Jet to hold her—to be there? This is sick.
It’s got to stop. If I don’t, I may need therapy, or someday Jet will find out about these new twisted fantasies of mine, and he’ll be out the door before you can say banana.
Also, I should stop thinking of bananas. Even if Jet likes them. Because guys shouldn’t like phallic-shaped fruit, okay? Not straight guys, anyway.
And I’m as straight as a one-way road, for all the good it does me. I haven’t been out with a chick since forever. Haven’t had sex since fuck knows when. My dick has probably shriveled and fallen off, and I didn’t even notice.
Checking nobody is looking, I pat my package, reassured to feel my dick is still there. Phew. Maybe it was the stress of finishing college, the small crisis I had, and the new job. Well, it’s time to remedy that. Time to—
Oh shit. Oh SHIT, the manager is staring right at me through the room window, a scowl on his face, and my hand… my hand is still on my crotch.
And I think, goddamn fuck, not again.
Chapter Three
JETHRO
I’m so little I fit inside a cupboard in the kitchen, among the pots and pans. My chin is resting on my drawn-up knees. My vision is restricted to a tiny circle. I press my eye to the hole, shivering. I don’t wanna watch. But I can’t look away as the shouting becomes louder, deafening, as objects crash, and she screams.
She told me to hide when it starts. Told me I’m safe if I’m hidden.
But nothing hidden ever remains so, and nobody is ever gonna stick around and keep you safe. Sooner or later you discover that you only have yourself.
Fuck them.
