This choice: You're given another assignment • Go Back...Chapter #7You're given another assignment by: Yote   The next day Nathan is not at the office. He has taken the day off for "research" and was busy discovering himself on the company's dime. You found Mr Nelson in his office, enduring the morning after the night before. There is a half empty bottle of bourbon on his desk, and several sheets of paper that he leafs through, muttering darkly to himself. Taking a seat at the desk, you flip one of the sheets round to examine it. It is a print out of the credit card payments running through Nathan's expenses account. Page 3 of 4.
"That clown is going to bankrupt us," Mr Nelson grumbles. "$400 on shoes alone, unbelievable. Hair extensions and a haircut in the same day! What is he thinking?" He flicked over a page. "And I don't even know what half of these chemicals are. Femtex, trysergic acid. He could be building a god damn bomb for all I know. It just goes on and on."
The com buzzes on the desk and his secretary's voice says, "Sir, you asked me to tell you when he reached page 5."
He grinds his teeth. "Ugh, bring it in."
"Are you... finished in there, sir?" the secretary asks warily.
Nelson rolls his eyes at the machine. "Kevin and I are just talking, Mary, bring the damn page in."
The secretary, a mousy woman in her late fifties, shuffles in, places a fifth sheet of paper on the desk while pointedly avoiding touching any of the surfaces, and shuffles out. Nelson glances at the paper and winces. "Anal bleaching!? Anal waxing! Sphincter tightening! A coffee enema!" he bellows, his face turning beet red. "This boy would make a fine whore. One day as a "woman" and he's already charging me to stick things up his ass! I knew I should never have given him this story."
"Well... at least he's grabbing things with both hands. I mean he's really wrapping his head around the experience," you snirk.
Nelson glowers at you over the top of the page, his thick black eyebrows like thunderclouds. "Alright. Alright, I admit it. My behaviour yesterday was unprofessional. I let him cloud my judgement. Damn bastard snuck in here while I was at lunch... found him under my desk dressed up like some cheap harlot." He pauses to pour himself a large shot of bourbon, slopping most of it over the desk. "I'd have kicked him straight out of course, except for the fact that I'd just sat down to talk with our biggest distributor. He spent three hours massaging my balls under this desk. Three goddamn hours while I had to sit here, listening to Gerard talk on and on about shipping costs and man hours. By the time I finally got rid of him, my balls were the size of pomegranates. Hell, I was so wound up I would have promised Nathan the company if he'd promised me his ass."
"You really don't need to tell me, sir," you protest. He rambles on regardless, somewhat drunkenly.
"My wife smelled him all over me when I got home of course. That wasn't easy to explain. Had to spin off some bullshit about how I'd been getting into this fad myself, how I'd stopped off at a store on the way home to douse myself in women's perfume. So... now my wife thinks I'm a sissy. Telling her the truth would have been easier." He brightens suddenly. "Still at least I wiped that smug look off his face when I shot my load down his throat. Nearly drowned the little suck-up."
Nauseated, you take a healthy swig from the bourbon. "Is that all, sir?" you ask hopefully.
He shakes his head. "Two things. First of all, I'm giving you a pay rise. Partly because I feel bad about messing about on this. Mostly because in taking this pay rise you agree never to mention anything of what I just told you to my wife, or to anyone else for that matter."
"My lips are sealed tighter than Nathan's, sir."
"Second, I've got a new assignment for you. It's not front page material, but it's close..."   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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