CMA: A Ridiculous Free Agents RP (SevenxKawa)

[sevenpercentsolution]

This was something of a predicament for Stephen Caudwell; he had arrived at CMA earlier than usual that day so he would be the first one in the building, thus giving him free reign to have a good morning wank in any location he deemed fit rather than being restricted to his office by decency laws - however, it wasn't every day that opportunities like this one came along.

Standing in the underground parking lot with his hands on his hips, staring into an old and rusted Mercedes-Benz, the CMA director was at a crossroads; one fork led to the blessedly happy realm of early day masturbation, while the other led him into another delightful and unceasingly entertaining chance to torture Alex Taylor. Granted, the man was somewhat hacked off as of late due to the fresh and stinging lash that divorce had left him with, and dozens of court-ordered sensitivity training classes hinted to Stephen that he should probably keep that in mind - but given that he'd been through the same process innumerable times himself, he had lost some of the empathy that most people would have regarding divorce.

And after all - Stephen reasoned as he sprinted back to his car and dug through the boot - given that Alex was such an unhappy bunny, what harm would it do to try and cheer him up a little? Everyone could use a bit of sunshine in their day, and as far as Stephen was concerned, it was his duty as CMA director to give them a full facial with his sense of humour and it warmed his cockles and various other parts of his anatomy to know he was occasionally responsible for their pretty little smiles, the fuckers.

He sorted through a disturbingly large pile of sex toys and jazz magazines before he located precisely what he was looking for, and giggled.

It wasn't so much that he was insensitive, he was just oblivious.

So really, it was done in the very best of humour when he slipped the paper-thin latex through the crack in Alex's car window and wrenched on the pull string that caused it to spontaneously balloon up into a surprised and moderately deformed-looking male blow-up doll, complete with a puffy and useless erect penis that inflated last and ended up positioned in such a way that it was poking the sleeping Alex in the back of the head.

And it was also done in the very best of humour when Stephen proceeded to pull out his Blackberry and take a few pictures, barely able to keep the thing steady from giggling.

 

[Kawamura]

Alex Taylor had thought he had hit rock bottom.

He hated his job â?? no he didnâ??t, he liked his job, except for the meeting new people and the faking sex and the way his boss grabbed his butt and how his secretary never did anything he asked her â?? he hated his job, he hated his wife, he hated his car and the stupid bag his son had found him (actually, that was sorta warm, so cross that off the list). He was homeless, girlfriendless, fresh laundry-less, and pride-less. The little cup holder he was so fond of in the back had broken off when he had kicked it in his sleep, having some sort of obscene nightmare where his old goat of a boss chased him across the office with a particularly large dildo, the same one he had seen in the top rack of said bossâ?? diswhasher. All in all, it couldnâ??t get worse.

So he had thought.

Alex rolled over and something tickled his nose. He smiled, stupid with sleep, and reached out to what he assumed was the girl he had shagged and who was currently tweaking his nose, the cheeky little thiâ??

That wasnâ??t skin. Alex might not be the most experienced of men, but he knew skin when he felt it. This was flabby and plasticky. Skin shouldn't be flabby and plasticky, he knew that. Hazel eyes snapped open and, for a moment, his face was filled with flaccid, fleshy faux-phallus.

This, this was rock bottom.

Startled, Alex scrambled to get the blow-up doll out of his face. Suddenly, his car was too small and that ever-shocked inflatable man was everywhere. He managed to get the door open as fast as someone being attacked by a man-sized sex toy could and force it out, only to find â?¦

â??Stephen?â? he said, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy. A homeless kicked puppy who had just been assaulted by a rubber willie. To make matters worse, his legs had gotten tangled up in his sleeping bag, and soon both divorcee and brightly-colored bag were tumbling out of the car with a miserable sqwauk.

 

[sevenpercentsolution]

"You know," Stephen said, crossing his arms over his chest and cocking his head to the side as Alex had a positively hilarious aneurism inside, and then outside of his car,

"It should probably be pathetic, the sight of a grown man squirming on the tarmac, cocooned in a Fireman-Sam-adorned sleeping bag, clawing desperately to escape the rubbery grasp of a fuck pillow and its vapid, Lucille Balle-esque expression of shell-shocked surprised,"

He cocked his head the other way then, as though inspecting it all, possibly committing it to memory for future wanking material,

"But frankly this whole scene is remarkably similar to an erotic nightmare I had last month, it's really just missing a colony of blood monkeys and they could be along any moment now." he said, and then glanced towards the gate with an expression that may have actually been hopeful, but after a painfully long silence he sighed, lifting his shoulders in a small shrug, "Can't win them all."

He shrugged his lips then, and booted the blow-up doll towards his underling for a second time, and the floppy, wrinkled latex packet ended up resting on the Alex's thigh, bending slightly.

"He's really rather persistant, isn't he." Stephen added, popping up on the balls of his feet, grinning.

 

[Kawamura]

While Stephen had his head turned towards the gate waiting for his monkeys (whatever in the hell â??blood monkeysâ?? were), Alex just stared at him. His sleeping partner had bounced off to the side, so that just left him and his mate Calliou.

And Stephen, of course, but thank God the man wasnâ??t taking his time to have his early morning wank in the garage. All in all, it could be much worse.

â??Erotic?â? he said stupidly, stubbled jaw hanging open. It wasnâ??t like this was new behavior for his boss: in fact, it was rather old hat and had its own sort of charm. Where all the world was going to hell around him, the old man was just as sexually depraved as he had been the day Alex had first started. That day had netted him a slap on the arse that he had previously thought he would avoid by not playing sports and more insinuations that he was giving reach-arounds to men that he had heard since he was a teenager. â??Monkeys?â? the agent added, feeling it was much too early for his boss to expect him to understand his often insane train of thought.

Hadnâ??t some ancient, unattractive woman with too many folds under her chin come and tell them all that sexual harassment was bad? Sheâ??d even brought slides and gave a smart little presentation that Stephen had sat with his head in his hand the whole time and stared at her assistant.

He hadnâ??t really enjoyed walking in on the twoâ??Oh. So thatâ??s where he had seen that red dildo before. Alex grimaced, not even bothering to push off the sex toy. â??Isnâ??t this a littleâ?¦ flat for you?â? he asked, crawling out of his bag. For a man who spent his days coming up with new and varied ways to call Alex a homosexual, it was a bit ironic, but really, he didn't (as always) want to know the details.

 

[sevenpercentsolution]

Stephen was clearly enjoying it far too much as Alex clamoured to his feet, oblivious to the man's traumatic memory of his little tryst with the sensitivity trainer's assistant - Andrea had been such a cute little thing despite the snaggletooth, and her strength had betrayed her size because the CMA director couldn't remember a time he'd been more thoroughly pegged by an attractive woman. It was unfortunate that Alex had come in when he had, because if the pansy had shown up a little sooner he might have gotten a better show and possibly an invite, rather than just witnessing his boss coming on his desk while the five foot Indonesian woman behind him screamed for him to 'take it, Daddy'.

"Actually I find this rather refreshing," Stephen said, and snapped another shot of Alex trying to get his grounding with his feet caught in the brightly hued sleeping bag, "It's about time you got some cock anyways. Speaking of which, Alex, you should maybe spend more time down on those bony knees of yours sucking a little of it if you plan to get any new clients."

This would be a reference to the previous night, dear old Charlie Redford's funeral, where they had taken on the perfectly respectable job of nicking the dead fucker's clients, and the one in particular they'd had their eyes on had been the method actor, Richard Rourke, who also happened to be the one client that Alex Taylor had managed to royally piss off.

"The next time you feel the need to insult a potential client's religion - regardless of how utterly ridiculous it is - do us all a favour and gag yourself with that sleeping bag you're so fond of and go get plowed by something tall, dark, and sizeable. Rourke wants nothing to do with CMA and made a point of letting me know it's because you couldn't swallow down that miserly, thick, sticky wad of pride that you have left. Kiss me before you fuck me, yeah?"

He looked at his watch then, popped up on his feet once more, and raised his eyebrows,

"I've got to go, you knobgobbler, but I want him back when you're done with him," he said, gesturing to the shocked sex doll, "He's got rear entry, that way you can practise your reacharound technique so you can be courteous the next time you decide to bugger the company. And Alex -"

A pause, and then he gestured to his own face, separating his fingers in a gesture that mimed out a grin,

"-smile." he chirped, and headed off.

 

[Kawamura]

Alex dropped his head and shoved his hands in his jacket, the same one he had to sleep in so he didnâ??t fucking freeze to death in the damned car. He certainly had a new respect for homeless men: once he got back on his feet, heâ??d be giving every single one who asked him a few quid.

No, he wouldnâ??t but that sounded good in his head. Heâ??d probably still awkwardly pretend he didnâ??t hear them as he also pretended that he was in a horrible rush somewhere.

It wasnâ??t his fault that he had reacted so poorly. The man had lead a bloody sneak attack on converting him: first, the whole Buddhist thing sounded great with all the second goes at things and the lack of guilt from vicars. Thatâ??d been fantastic. Then he had to bring up something about one-hundred-something hells and being a hungry ghost and that wasnâ??t so fantastic. After all, he didnâ??t really want to leave his kids: Laura had sorta kicked him out. That didnâ??t deserve a (absolutely ridiculous, by the way) response, did it? Stephen wouldn't care to hear any of this, though, so he kept his mouth shut and accepted the tongue-lashing.

Ugh. Bad imagery with his boss. By the time it was over, Alex was looking at the sex toy with eyebrows drawn and a very chin-less sort of frown. Now how in the hell was he going to get this thing deflated without popping it? Didnâ??t want to piss off Stephen anymore than he was already, after all, and while the man had more sex toys than Alex had shirts, pants, underwear, and jackets, he felt that destroying one of them might be a really good way to rouse his bossâ?? anger.

â??Oh, very nice.â? Alex wrinkled his nose at Helen then readjusted the sex toy under his arm. â??You going to introduce us?â?

â??Yeah, heâ??s one of Stephenâ??s.â? The curly-haired agent trotted off to his office with inflatable toy in tow like some sort of ancient conqueror taking his new woman back home. â??I figured the least I could do was show him around. Maybe find him some clothes.â?

â??I like the little hole in the back. Though, I think we both knowâ?¦â?

â??Yeah, donâ??t finish that.â? Alex propped the obscene balloon up against his window, grimaced, and then turned it around so he didnâ??t have to see that useless little shlong. He plopped down in his chair with a sigh. â??I donâ??t know what I did,â? he said, going through his cabinets to find deodorant.

Helen pretended to think (theyâ??d had this talk, after all) then said slowly, â??It might have been getting the Buddhist angry enough to want to clobber you. Ha. How about that.â? Alex looked up at her while he shoved the stick up his shirt.

â??Yeah, well. You werenâ??t there. You were too busy getting drunk enough to proclaim atheism to a vicar. All that bloody talk of hell for people that couldnâ??t stay with their kids. I feel bad enough already.â? He dropped the deodorant back into the drawer then pulled out an undershirt, sniffed, then made a face. â??Heâ??d probably have some special hell for grieving women who slept with pitiful cunts then called them a cab.â? Alex leaned back in his chair, glanced to the side, and immediately regretted it. â??God damn it, how do you deflate one of those fuckers?â?

 

[sevenpercentsolution]

CMA was not a workplace for the faint of heart or weak of stomach and Dan was neither; as one of the top agents for the company, he had risen in the ranks due to his complete lack of a moral compass and his deeply disturbing, droning monotone that seemed to put otherwise sensible human beings into a state of hypnosis. Regarding ruthlessness, he was only second to the famed Stephen Caudwell, who he viewed as something of a role-model - granted, Dan wasn't as sexually depraved as his boss but he made up for it with his utter lack of empathy or any discernable human emotion.

No, instead, Dan moved through his day like a horn-rimmed, sweater-vest wearing robot, unable to understand why his co-workers were such fucking pussies about their problems. As far as Dan was concerned, if his wife divorced him, he would just find someone else to fuck and it would be that simple, he wouldn't spend his time moping about or be forced to sleep in a car at night - of course, Dan had never actually married or even been in a reasonably long-term relationship, so his experience in that realm was fairly limited.

There was probably a reason for that.

Not that it mattered; he was at the top in CMA and that was the important thing.

And very occasionally he liked to remind others of this fact, usually by either bringing up their mortality and impending death, or rubbing their current problems in their face. In Alex Taylor's case, this was just a little too easy, but Dan decided that very occasionally it was alright to attack the already lame gazelle,

"You are one lucky fucker." Dan droned as he stood in the doorway of Alex's office and remained bizarrely unpreturbed by the male sex toy that was sitting in the window; given that Dan had spent a great deal of his mentoring time with Stephen, there was a good chance that he would never be disturbed by anything ever again. Some even reasoned that his apprenticeship with Stephen had been the cause of his pod-person-like behaviour,

"If I was the one in charge here, your ass would have been out the door before you could even pick up your Calliou sleeping bag to keep you warm at night - yes I got the pictures and they were hilarious," he continued, but there was no discernable alteration in his pitch to indicate that he actually thought anything was even remotely funny, "If I wasn't sure that you weren't his type I'd say you sucked Caudwell's cock to keep your job, but another fuck up like that and no amount of even the most enthusiastic rimming will keep you here, though you may find yourself doing it anyways just to pay him back for keeping you on the payroll. Shape up or I'll break your shins if you lose us another client."

He gave a nod of greeting to Helen, and then headed back where he'd come from.

 

[Kawamura]

â??Um. Should be a knob somewhere.â? Helen, however, didnâ??t get any closer to the blow up doll. â??You could always ask Stephen. Iâ??m sure heâ??d love to show you.â?

Alex let his head droop and his shoulders sag, reaching for his phone out of habit to check the pictures of his kids. Helen rolled her eyes, turned, and nearly ran into Dan.

That shaggy head popped up from the picture of his kids, his eyebrows drawn a little further into that constant worried look he had on his face these days (who was he kidding? Heâ??d had that look nearly every day of his adult life and half the time he was in grammar school). Dan always liked to use sexual metaphors, the robotic deviant, but Alex was never quite sure if he was being symbolic or literal in his speech when he talked about Stephen.

After that lovely little speech, during which Alex spent most of his time looking even more disheartened and a tad green, he turned his head to Helen. His former-sort-of-girlfriend grinned. â??Why does everyone around here think Iâ??m sucking cock?â? he asked through gritted teeth.

Helen gestured to her own lips. â??Itâ??s the lips, I think. Definite fellatio pout.â? She couldnâ??t have looked more pleased as she said that, gave a coy little wave (to which Alex responded weakly), then pranced off to her office.

â??Yeah, I hope Stephen tells you about his weekend tryst with someone from the funeral,â? he called out after her. He also hoped it was sexually depraved, mildly illegal, and involved blood monkeys.

The fuck-doll toppled over, falling in slow motion to bounce on its side. Alex puffed out his lips slightly, staring at it.

It was going to be one of those days. He felt it.

--

Alex managed (through the grace of God, frequent bathroom breaks and about three crying fits) to avoid his boss that day. Dan knew Stephen best, outside of the Biblical sense, and if he thought Stephen should be angry at him, then, well, heâ??d best to â?¦

Not apologize. And certainly not kiss asâ?¦ ugh, strike that image. But at least go return the blow up doll. So that was his reason for heading out across the office to Stephenâ??s own well-decorated and tasteful office, as long as one kept the black lights out. The place would probably glow like some odd spunk-filled radioactive wasteland if someone dared to bring a black light in. â??Er. Just coming to return this,â? he said awkwardly, shoving the door open with Mr. I Canâ??t Be Assed To Close My Mouth, or, â??Ickyâ?? as he was starting to call him.

Not that he was holding any conversations with the blow up doll about how much he loved his kids and hated his job and the fact that he was a shit agent. Never.

 

[sevenpercentsolution]

In general it was a bad idea to walk into a room without knocking, but it was doubly so when it came to walking into a room that even had the remote chance of containing - or recently containing, given that sometimes things got left behind or needed time to sort out what had happened to them before they could get the good sense to leave - Stephen Caudwell.

In the director's many years there, countless brains had been destroyed by stepping unannounced into the room that was occasionally and lovingly referred to as 'the dungeon', usually by those who had the good fortune of never seeing anything horrible happen in it, and were thus still capable of laughing about it - but the ones who went distinctly green at the mention of the office were generally those who had recieved a crash course in manners.

Yes, they had learned a valuable lesson: always knock.

And, of course, it was a widely-known rule in CMA that one should never step into Stephen's office at eleven o'clock, even after knocking, because there was a good chance he would just allow a person to come in while he was in the middle of his afternoon toss off.

They should know better, after all.

So it was really just Alex's good fortune that he stepped into the office while Stephen was doing the most bizarre thing CMA had ever seen him do - that was to say, he was doing absolutely nothing offensive, which was quite possibly a precident. In fact, he seemed absorbed in the papers in front of him for a very long moment before he finally snapped out of it, his eyes rolling up to take in Alex, and then the blow up doll under his arm,

"Become friends, have you now?" Stephen asked, and if he was even remotely angry with Alex, it didn't show in his expression or ring in the warm tone of his voice, "I hope you cleaned it, sloppy seconds are awful when they're cold, you know."

Well, being inoffensive was hard work.

 

[Kawamura]

Alex was one of those that didnâ??t call it the dungeon that had, he figured, seen the worse in the form of his boss bent over a desk right at the end of putting his new sensitivity training to the test. All very modern, the whole letting the woman be in control and all, but Alex was pretty sure that wasnâ??t what the point of having the presentation was.

There was nothing worse he could see, he figured, short of things with legal ramifications that might mean he had to testify in court.

But right now, Stephen was actually working, which shouldnâ??t be so shocking: yes, it was near the end of the day and yes, it was a Monday, which did lead to decreased productivity, but this was a place of business, there had to be work done at least some of the time. This was Stephen Caudwell, however, a man whom Alex always figured spent more time whacking off than actually doing work. In fact, Alex was pretty sure that was the definition of a boss, only, you know, less sexual. So that left him standing in the doorway rather awkwardly until Stephen noticed him, as people behind him finished up to go home.

At least his current living arrangement had left him with a short commute. Alex was probably helping to bring down the average of how long people spent going from work to home and those improved numbers would make someone somewhere very happy. Just not him.

â??No, I didnâ??t. But Iâ??ll keep that in mind next time Iâ??m, er, at an orgy, I guess.â? He propped the sex toy up against one of the walls, trying to touch it in the least erotic way possible. â??Speaking of cold,â? he said in a way one might call pleasant if he wasnâ??t awkwardly positioning a blow up doll. â??What with the winter coming and all, well, you know how parking lots are for sleeping.â? He glanced to Stephen, shoved his hands in his pockets, and decided, no, his boss probably didnâ??t know how parking lots were for sleeping. â??If youâ??ve still got a free room, I mean, it would be nice not to bribe security to ignore the bum in the car.â? Alex gave a hopeful little smile, hoping that somewhere in his boss, under all the sexual appetite, dangerous thoughts, scrupleless business sense, and massive ego was pity.

His smile strained.

 

[sevenpercentsolution]

Sexual experimentation was something that was usually associated with hip, liberal, twenty-somethings and was a practise that tended to be abandoned around the age of thirty when people settled into predictable lives, had kids, and had their libidos stomped on by their chosen career path. Very occasionally, a long-since quashed appetite may enjoy a sexual re-awakening once the kids left home or during a secretive, illicit little tryst, but otherwise a majority of human beings were doomed to a future that contained sparse sessions of relatively tame, vanilla, missionary sex.

Of course, Stephen had never really agreed with that philosophy, and so starting at the age of fifteen he had set about on what he considered a noble cause by attempting to make up for the lack of recreational fucking within the rest of the population - a challenge he had continued for thirty years and intended on carrying on until the day some poor sap was tasked with closing his casket lid down over his enormous, Armani-clothed stiffy. Unlike some bastards, however, Stephen didn't just seek physicality for nihilistic purposes - though that did play a big role - he also openly sought the intimacy that came with it, even if said intimacy came in the form of a one-eyed Cirque du Soleil contortionist who insisted on widdling on him.

He had a broad definition for intimacy.

But when it came down to it, the CMA director just liked people - no, he fucking loved people and everything about them and solitude was something he simply wouldn't put up with, though as of late he'd experienced an inordinate amount of it since he'd managed to muck up yet another relationship by asking his celibate girlfriend to finger him. He still didn't think it was so unreasonable; he wouldn't be the one doing the penetrating, after all - but after doing a little research regarding celibacy he'd discovered that even finger-fucking was against the rules, so at the very least he'd made a mental note to get clarification the next time someone described themselves as celibate.

But what it all came down to was that Alex had approached Stephen at a time when the director was feeling molested by the grabby, filthy hands of loneliness, and so the concept of taking his employee as a lodger for a second time didn't seem like a terrible thing. In fact, it hadn't seemed like a terrible thing the first time around and it had worked to his advantage because it turned out that the twat was a decent cook, despite being as quiet as a door-mouse.

Except when he was crying, then he was fairly loud.

Stephen stared at Alex for a long moment; not just because he was almost certain that the moptopped dillweed had never even been to an orgy, but because he was trying to stop himself from saying so because, really, there wasn't any point in shitting on a fellow while he was already wading through sewage. He made a mental note to inform Alex the next time the opportunity for an orgy presented itself - which was ridiculously frequent for Stephen.

"You just can't fucking resist me can you, you piss-arse?" he asked, giving one of his broad, boyish smiles - it was the sort of smile that clarified for those that didn't understand, precisely why Stephen found it so easy to get laid while others struggled to get a good fuck once a year. He pursed his lips then reached into his desk, and amidst the frightening array of colourful toys, he located a spare key, which he held up for Alex to take, and he paused, his eyes flicking to the blow up doll, his brows knitting,

"Why didn't you just deflate it?" Alex asked incredulously, "Don't tell me you couldn't figure it out you jizz-monger, it's in the arse, right where it should be."

There was no context in which that sentance would have sounded remotely appropriate.

 

[Kawamura]

Alex, meanwhile, had a very limited idea of sex and relationships. Helen had been his first big experiment that millennium, and look how bloody well that turned out. No, heâ??d stay with his happy, boring sex.

When he had it.

Which had beenâ?¦ counting Helenâ?¦ three times in the last year. Depression did that to a man, he reasoned, made him as amorous as a limp noodle. Or a much-too-old leek. Or Icky. Well. That was enough flaccid imagery, thank you very much.

And no matter what story he told his boss, he certainly hadnâ??t even go so far as to be fingered before. It just didnâ??t sit well with him, the whole idea of anal: that was an exit, not an entrance (though he certainly wasnâ??t going to let Stephen know he thought that way, no, he didnâ??t want to end up with the manâ??s arm around his shoulders as he gave advice).

What also didnâ??t sit well with him was why this man was so charismatic. He was a horrid human being: Rourkeâ??s hundred hells probably had a pretty low level for a man who put his pecker in anything that moved (and quite a few things that didnâ??t, if Icky said anything about his hobbies in his car); tortured rather loveable, though ineffective agents and left more kids than he knew how to name. But, for some reason, women and clients threw themselves at his feet and Alex was completely unsure how to explain that when he, a fairly decent fellow, couldnâ??t keep the woman he had and tended to scare off clients

Well, not all of them. Some of them liked the crying thing.

Alex laughed nervously, which was the only way he really could around his boss. The chief of CMA was a dodgy sort: he could swing between a fantastic mood and a very sour â??Iâ??m getting rid of you, you little cuntâ?? mood in half a beat, all while keeping that same wide smile on his face. Living with him was not something Alex looked forward to a second time. Sure, maybe he had over reacted with the sex toys in the top rack. After all, wasnâ??t it good that his boss was practicing excellent hygiene? And maybe being startled by the adverts for whores was also a bit much. And the names? Heâ??d heard worse in secondary. But if Dan was to be believed, he wasn't doing well in the keeping his job department, and the last thing Alex needed was to be homeless, familyless, and jobless.

â??Oh, of course,â? he said, though once he had the key, he didnâ??t make any move towards the sex toy. He snapped his fingers. â??I was just about to try there. Well, then. Iâ??m just going to be off. Is, er, there anything you wanted for dinner?â?

 

[sevenpercentsolution]

It was unclear whether Stephen actually recognized the discomfort of the people around him when they were repeatedly forced to recognize the bizarre, Witkin-esque sort of depravity that their boss engaged in on a regular basis, but ultimately the options were: either he was actually completely unaware of the disquieted shudders of those around him and was simply incredibly open, or he was privately tickled by the distress it caused them and was thus engaging in further depravity via a sort of psychological sadism.

Given that no one was really willing to delve too deeply into Stephen's particular psyche, it was likely to be a question left unanswered - unless, of course, he got a therapist, though he was quite likely to end up doing unspeakable things to anyone who tried to council him.

And they would like it.

So it was also unclear if Stephen was aware of exactly how uncomfortable the other agent was while standing in his office then - he might have thought that the jittery shifting was due to the fact Alex had either snorted crank or had to widdle - so when he picked up the blow up doll and soundly jammed his fingers into the rear entry one would only be able to speculate if he had done it to make Alex even more distressed. Either way, the doll's shocked expression suddenly seemed to make sense, and the first thing that deflated was the pathetic rubber penis, wilting like a lettuce leaf; the misfortune was that the deflation came with sound effects that sounded a great deal like the doll had recently and enthusiastically partaken in a generous helping of Indian food.

Stephen, the mature being he was, giggled quietly until the noise finally stopped and the doll became a shamed, wrinkled pile of latex with it's now two-dimensional forehead resting against the side of the desk.

With that done, he looked back to Alex, and one eyebrow quirked at the question, followed by a wicked smile that indicated the agent should probably re-think what he had just said, because the expression his boss was wearing made him look as though he should have a fin on top of his head.

"I'm afraid I'll be home late, darling," Stephen said chipperly, apparently deciding to forgo the innuendo and simply let Alex hear it in the echoing cavern of his own head,

"Don't wait up for me." he added, even throwing in a cheeky wink before slapping Alex across the rear.

 

[Kawamura]

Alex wasnâ??t quite sure that up the arse was a good place to put a plug, especially if that was the same artificial orifice was were one would be putting themselves in any kind of enthusiastic fashion. Seemed like a design flaw that could easily ruin the whole mood. Youâ??d (or, really, Stephen) be going at it then, all of a sudden, Stepâ??youâ??d nick the innards and end up with a deflated partner.

Bit like Alex, really, though he generally managed to keep his boner even if he was crying. This was what happened when you spent too much time with a man-shaped balloon: you started to empathize with it and compare sexual notes. The damned doll was probably more active then him these days. Alex had the plus of being alive, though, and was strangely consoled by that fact in a â??ha, take that, you bargain-bin fuck toyâ?? sort of way.

You had to take lifeâ??s little victories, and if that involved beating a blow up doll in the living department, so be it.

That seemed to be Stephenâ??s outlook on life, at least; or so he hoped so he could explain his bossâ?? juvenile response to Ickyâ??s deflation. On the off chance that it wasnâ??t (the rather large off chance, which made it the most probable explanation, really), Alex glanced down and away in the universal sign of â??maybe if I donâ??t make eye contact and donâ??t move, he wonâ??t notice me againâ??. This was an old trick, older than humans. Probably as soon as there were two one-celled organisms in the primordial soup, one pulled all his flagellum in and pretended the other had not just laughed at that horrific ameba joke.

And, in the age-old tradition of deer caught in the headlights and ameba being torn apart by the laugher and his new identical mate, it didnâ??t work.

All because he had to be civil and just a touch ass-kissy and offer dinner. Whossit that had said â??a way to a manâ??s heart is his stomachâ??, and Stephen had a heart and a fantastic kitchen, though he was unsure why on both accounts as the man used neither all that often. And his thoughtfulness (and desire to perhaps get a bit off the rent) was rewarded with a slap on the bum. How very telling of their time together.

Alex gave a weak smile, turned and walked stiffly out of Stephenâ??s office (the only one, and for good reason, that lacked a large voyeuristic window). Helen was there, pulling on her coat, ready to go home to her nice, spacious enough for an extra, empty room flat. Thereâ??d be no sex toys in the dishwasher there, no ass slapping, and perhaps if he played his cards right and she was drunk as a skunk, maybe even sex. Instead sheâ??d condemned him to servitude.

â??Iâ??ll walk you to your car,â? she said brightly, and Alex smiled thinly, hands still in his pockets. He hadnâ??t figured out what exactly to do with them after the spanking, so he just kept them in his cheap hoodie.

â??Oh, no, Iâ??ve got a place tonight. Stephen, unlike you, is willing to give me a second night.â? The bony agent rocked forward on his feet a little. â??Though, you know, Iâ??m always good for sleepovâ??â??

â??Ah, no.â? She closed her door and started moving to the lift. Alex followed like some sort of curly-haired lost puppy.

â??Come on, we can even switch. You can sleep in his extra room, and Iâ??ll take care of your flat. Itâ??ll be a fantastic idâ??â??

â??Please.â? Helen turned while Alex leaned forward, holding the door open. â??You two will be good for each other. You can share wanking tips. Have fun. Just remember not to explore any odd sounds.â? He jerked back as the doors beeped in protest before closing on an amused alcoholic.

â??Right. Good.â? Alex turned around and kicked at the air, then looked up to his horse-faced secretary. â??Emma. How do youâ??â?? He didnâ??t even get a chance to finish his question before she had moved past him into the elevator. And Dan, who slithered in before the doors could close, much to her disgust.

Damn.

 

[sevenpercentsolution]

Stephen was not a young man anymore; it was a fact he was painfully aware of, and he had made no attempt to fool himself into believing otherwise - he wasn't as strong or as attractive as men in their twenties - but he easily made up for it with other factors. His position as the director of CMA, for starters, gave him the power that a number of men and women found themselves irresistably drawn to, some of them did it to win his favour - and really, there was no better way to win Stephen's favour than with a good fuck, if the man was offered a fortune or a fuck, he would shove the money aside to make room for rutting on his desk - and some of them did it for the simple fact that power got them lubed up.

The second factor was that Stephen, while capable of being intensely crass, was undeniably charming - when his boyish smiles didn't get him where he wanted, he was always able to fall back on his startling intelligence, a feature that only a choice number of employees at CMA were aware of because, quite frankly, it was easier to let people believe he was stupid. But the fact was that one didn't rise to his position and didn't gain his sort of repertoire without having a significant influence, or at the very least, the ability to convince people he was the best at what he did. And, in fact, he was - he was responsible for a number of powerful celebrities getting their time in the spotlight, and years ago when CMA had gone through a brief financial crisis, it had been his influence and clients that had pulled the company out of the black - it was the move that had gained him his position.

And the third, and possibly the most obvious, was the fact that Stephen Caudwell had the sexual fortitude and stamina of an ADHD jackrabbit - where most men would begin to wilt in their forties and suffer the sad effects of a stifled libido, Stephen's sexual appetite was more aggressive than that of most men half his age. He had, of course, started very young, and his experiences back then had gained him a reputation as something of an equal opportunity Don Juan, a reputation that continued to serve him - he had, in fact, been reminded of it that very day.

And naturally, as he strolled through the parking lot that evening - buttoning up a dark green dress shirt that made his eyes stand out ridiculously - he decided that the best person to tell would be Alex, after all, he was the only person left in the lot. In mid-stride Stephen managed to get an arm up around Alex's shoulders and pulled the other man effortlessly into a walk with him,

"I need to stop at my place anyways, so you may as well catch a ride with me, cub," he said brightly, oblivious to any possible discomfort he may be causing for the other man, "I had an interview with a potential client this morning, Alex - she was in her late thirties, older than most of the clients we get here, but she was an ebony goddess. Miriam was very statuesque, wearing this little yellow silk thing that kept pulling up her thighs when she moved, and I was helpless not to look."

He furrowed his brows for a moment,

"She must be a runner," he added vaguely, "But needless to say, she noticed and so did Stephen Junior, if you know what I mean."

He barely stopped himself from nudging Alex in the ribs,

"Before I even knew what was happening, I'm half on the desk with her hand down my trousers as we're discussing where we should meet for dinner tonight."

 

[Kawamura]

Alex thought he had escaped. He was currently digging through his Merc, pulling out the things he would need for a night at Stephenâ??s. The old car had given up on him: no, that wasnâ??t correct, German autos lasted forever, it was the battery that had died on him (some cheap Japanese thing, if heâ??d gone for the German one itâ??d still be working, heâ??d bet) so he couldnâ??t just drive his whole home to his bossâ?? flat. Heâ??d have to wad up his sleeping bag (afraid to sleep on the sheets in Stephenâ??s spare room without boiling them first), tuck his toiletries away in his jacket, and head for a cab like a man. A homeless man who had reached rock bottom.

It was while he was trudging off like said depressed homeless man that his boss caught him, tucking him under his arm in near the same way he had Fireman Sam. Only, you know, he could use his legs. Stephen was rather dashing in his dark green and even Alex had to admit his eyes were lovely, which just made him feel rather dejected. If he had nice eyes and could pull off dashing, Helen would love to shag him every night. Maybe even twice on the weekends. Bloody genetics. Giving the good stuff to a cad like Stephen and the leftovers to a wonderfully kind gentleman like himself.

Stepehenâ??s offer was rather sweet, or, rather, would have been if his boss didnâ??t launch into his latest sexual exploit. Alex thought this was entirely unfair: here he was, tucked under his bossâ??s arm while he told him about his cock. â??Why donâ??t you two head to a hotel?â? he offered hopefully, letting the older man steer him through the parking lot and into his expensive car. The curly-headed agent had to push aside all sorts of varied and colourful sex toys, only half of which he could recognize a use for, so he could pack his things into the backseat. â??Iâ??m sure itâ??d be lovely. You could, er, have them clean up whatever mess you made.â? Because Alex had the very sudden and very sickening feeling that heâ??d be left with maid-duty.

He didnâ??t want to touch Stephenâ??s sticky sheets.

â??Er. What exactly did you mean by a â??runner?â??â? Alex asked bravely as he slid into the front seat then immediately yelped as something beneath him started to vibrate. The agent pulled out a rather small dildo and stared at it forlornly.

He was doomed.

 

[sevenpercentsolution]

As though Alex's sad excuse for a car wasn't bad enough, Stephen's choice of transport made the other man's rusted Mercedes look more like something that cattle had digested and shat out. It was a small, sleek, silver-blue thing with a pull-down roof, and to add insult to injury it was also a BMW - just, it was one that had been developed within that particular decade.

Stephen slipped into the driver's seat and settled back, watching with a cocked eyebrow as Alex tossed the various colourful bobbles to the back seat, privately amused by the other man's squeamishness, though his expression didn't shift past his usual expression of good-natured bemusement.

"A hotel? Good god no," Stephen said, as though Alex had insulted him, "I'll have you know I'm taking her out for champagne and oysters at the new bistro that opened up."

He shot Alex one of his winning smiles,

"I pulled a favour, old bastard whose lovely daughter I got a, uh, role for happens to own the place. No problems getting a table," he said, tugging on his seatbelt and starting up the car; it purred like any German-made piece of mastery should, and he pursed his lips, brows knitting for a moment as he spoke again,

"But when she found out, she got so excited she ended up telling her friend Alexis, who has apparently been trying to get into the restaurant for nearing on a month now. Of course, that complicated things when I agreed to bring her as well, because you can't exactly have a double date with only three, and I can't be assed to keep both of them amused the entire time - so I told them I'd bring her a date as well."

Stephen was silent for a long moment, staring ahead as he pulled out of the underground parking lot, waiting until they were away from the safety net of Alex's car,

"You do have something more appropriate to wear, don't you?" Stephen asked kindly.

 

[Kawamura]

Alex slumped his scrawny frame down in the premium leather seats (probably had the stupid seat warmers, too, the bastard), puffy, olive green jacket coming up to his chin under the seatbelt. He managed to find the most awkward way to arrange his legs, knobby knees pressed against the dashboard, that wonderfully-crafted vibration reminding him very little of his car. It was like his Merc was the TB-infected older cousin of Stephenâ??s.

Stupid Stephen and his stupid car with the stupid seat warmers. And his stupid women, too.

â??I canâ??t,â? he said, because Helen would find out and thatâ??d ruin everything. Alex was a very old-fashioned sort: he didnâ??t believe he should go along on group dates when he was just there as a seat filler. Especially knowing that in a few hours his â??dateâ?? would be engaging in a two-woman-one-man threesome with his depraved boss and, oh God, heâ??d be down the hall.

What if they went out in the rest of the flat?

â??Iâ??ve only got that one suit. Laura threw the rest out.â? He smiled weakly. â??It would be a faux pas to show up like I was going to a funeral. Guess Iâ??ll just have a boring night in. Watch the telly, go to bed early,â? the agent offered hopefully. "You, erm, won't be making love with your guests on my bed, will you?"