Geek's Revenge Ch. 06byCreamer©
I'd made another dick-sucking date for the following Tuesday with Carla before she left. I had plenty to do that weekend, and Monday was spent with my partners in our attorney's office, going over paperwork. By Tuesday night, I was ready for some stress relief.
But no Carla.
I waited all night -- well, I hung out and played video games the whole night, my second favorite method of stress relief. I'm a beta tester for a few companies, and blowing up aliens or orcs after dealing with hard-assed sellers or obsequious attorneys all week can be amazingly therapeutic. When I looked up and it was just nigh 3 am -- officially "long past midnight" -- I figured she'd be a wash, and went to bed. I didn't even think about it again until the next night, when I paged her. I got a call back from a deep-voiced black man.
"You were looking for Peaches?" he asked, gruffly.
"Um, Carla, yeah," I admitted. "We had a date for last night, and she didn't show. I was just concerned."
"You that rich white boy she's been seeing, correct?"
"I'd rather not go into my details over an un-secure connection. I'm sure you understand."
"Right, right. Well, you see Carla, you tell her to hustle her little ass back here. I haven't seen her since Sunday, when she bought . . . well, un-secure connection. You see her, you tell her to come talk to Bill. We straight?"
"Got it." I snapped my phone shut and shrugged. I knew she would get herself into trouble. I was a little worried, but only so much -- she was a big girl. Any trouble she got into, well, it wasn't like she didn't know about it up front. I felt a little sad but went back to my day.
I was almost shocked when there was a buzz at my door about seven pm the next day.
"It's Pea—It's Carla," came a tired voice from the speaker. "Can I come up?"
"Um, sure," I agreed. "You remember the way?" She did. While she was making the trip in the ancient elevator, I quickly stashed my portable valuables in my safe. She was an old high-school chum, sure, but she was also a crack head. I'm not stupid.
When I opened the door, she looked like hell. Her hair was dirty and stringy, hanging in limp clumps around a face that hadn't seemed to get the benefit of sleep for days. She was wearing a skirt and buttoned top that was just barely decent enough not to get you escorted out of a shopping mall by security, and her shoes were battered and dirty, like she had been walking a long way. She carried her shoulder bag like it weighed a ton, and her eyes . . . they were like two distant pits in her head. Not her most attractive moment.
"Hey, Coop," she said, feigning a smile. "Mind if I come in?"
"Uh, sure," I said, opening the door. "Missed you on Tuesday," I mentioned -- what the hell else was I supposed to say?
"Yeah, sorry about that," she said with a tired sigh. "I . . . I got caught up in . . . something else. Sorry. Won't happen again. In fact, that's why I'm here."
"Somebody named Bill was awful anxious to see you," I added.
"Yeah, well, he's the other reason I'm here," she admitted. "I'm . . . trying to make up for it. Bill wasn't happy that I missed a date -- poor customer service, and Bill is all about the customer. His employees, not so much. But he sent me over to you. Complimentary." She bit her lip and looked away. "I'm yours until tomorrow morning. Anything goes. Even pain. As a matter of fact, he said he didn't care if you . . . if you . . . if . . . you turned my ass to hamburger, if you wanted to do something like that." She sounded humiliated and beaten, and her voice had a strange wavering tone to it. "Oh, and if today isn't convenient, the offer is good for a raincheck. I just . . . I need to make amends."
"Really, it isn't necessary—"
"Oh, yes it is," she assured me fervently. "Bill was pretty clear about that. I need to do this. To make it up to you. It was inexcusable."
"Damn, it was just a date . . . no big deal, really."
"Coop," she said, fixing me with a desperate stare. "Yes it is. One night free, and . . . well, if you're happy, I'll . . . I'll . . ." she sagged. "Just say you'll do it. Please. I don't want to—"
"What did he say he'd do to you?" I asked, evenly.
"You don't want to know. Bill's got one main punishment for his employees. Let's just say . . . my asshole would appreciate it if you'd let me fuck you silly tonight. Or some night soon," she added, hopefully. "If you're happy, then I won't get gang-raped in my asshole by his entire fucking crew. That's pretty standard. If Bill is very unhappy, then he . . . well, we won't go into that. So please be happy with me. Please," she begged, her lip red where she was biting it.
"You bought a big bag of coke, didn't you?" I asked. "With the money from last time?"
"Yes, dammit, I bought some coke," she confessed bitterly. "I've been up for days. Since Sunday night. And you weren't the only appointment I missed. So if you will please just skip the 'just say no' lecture and let me . . . do whatever you want me to do, I'd appreciate it."
I couldn't help it. She wasn't crying, but she should have been, and the fact that she wasn't was telling. "Carla . . . Carla. Why . . .?"
"If you haven't tried it, there's no use explaining. Just trust me, it's a bad drug to get involved with. And once you're addicted . . ."
I thought about it, and finally sighed. "Look, I've got to run out in about an hour. How about . . . let's say you give me head as a down payment, then come back tomorrow night when you've gotten yourself cleaned up, fed, and rested. I promise, you'll get a good review."
"Promise?" she asked, suddenly sounding like a little girl. There was even a trace of whimper in her voice.
"I do," I said, solemnly. "You did me a favor blowing old Foster the other night. Least I can do is help you out, too."
She looked relieved. "Oh, Coop, thank you, thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyou!" she gushed. "You won't regret it, I promise! You just saved my ass, for real though, and . . ." she let her bag fall to the floor, and then her knees hit right beside it, "I wanna make it real good for you!"
She began unbuttoning her shirt and I started to get hard despite myself. I mean, it wasn't as if she was bowling me over with her feminine charms -- she looked like shit. But she was acting so fucking grateful. And she looked so fucking helpless and pitiful. I had no doubt that the erection suddenly tenting out my pants was due in no small part on the protective feelings she had managed to evoke in me. Shit, I didn't want her to get brutalized. She was a crack whore and a cunt, after all, but she was still a human being. You shouldn't get ass-raped just because you called in sick to work.
I started to rethink the blowjob -- it would be clearly taking advantage of her situation --then stopped. If she wanted to suck my dick, real quick, well, it was a freebie. Turning her down might be considered rude, I reasoned. It may have been noble, by some fucked-up romantic standard, but I gave up any pretensions of nobility the day I got my first stock options.
"Oh, all right," I groaned, as her nimble and shaky fingers opened my fly. My dick was already enthusiastic about the prospect, and in seconds was receiving an inspired tonguing. She laved the length with her lips, then pulled back with an excessive amount of suction.
"I'll make this good, but quick -- I know you're a busy man," Peaches cooed. "You just need to get all that stress out. It's poison. Let me suck the poison out," she said, in a whore's voice. She plunged back down until the head of my cock was wedged into the back of her throat. I groaned involuntarily, and my hands moved to her head of their own accord.
She still led the oral dance, but I guided her pistoning lips the way I wanted them. This wasn't a time to linger, to sensually draw out the pleasure of a well-experienced mouth. No, this was a time to pump her throat silly and bust a nut. I became a little more aggressive and was soon fucking her face manfully.
She took it like she was born to it, holding her face steady and her mouth open, her lips curled to protect me from her teeth. I stared down at her and noticed her eyes were closed, like she was praying. Then she abruptly opened them and stared back at me. They looked tired, but her gratitude and thankfulness beamed back at me. Here was Carla Dawes, sucking my cock . . . and thanking me for the privilege.
You just gotta love Fate's sense of irony.
I powered through the finish, keeping up the brisk pace until I unloaded across her busy tongue. She sucked it down and swallowed it eagerly -- what can I say? Carla likes to suck cock. She uttered an almost-dainty cum-belch, and then got to her feet.
"All right, that was yummy, Coop, so we're on for tomorrow? Give me a call if your plans change."
"Hey, uh . . . you wanna grab a shower real quick? Looks like you could stand to freshen up. Probably a long walk back to your place."
"I don't really have a, um, a place. I usually crash at Bill's. But . . . well, it wouldn't suck not to show up looking like a ho-bag. Thanks." She grabbed a few things out of her bag and disappeared inside.
I waited until I heard water running, and then the unmistakable sounds of her splashing within, before I opened up her bag. It was a violation of trust, yadda yadda yadda, but I had questions I was curious about.
You can tell a lot about a woman by her handbag. This was a well-built leather tote with a big shoulder strap. I wasn't surprised by the cell phone, key chain, "feminine hygiene" kit, or the make-up bag -- pretty standard issue. I also found a roll of twenties, a vial of coke, a ragged address book, a couple of pairs of panties, a tube of lube, and about a dozen condoms. But then I found a small, purse-sized teddy bear that had been around forever, and somehow that tugged at my heart-strings. It looked like the crack-whore had a sensitive side. There was also one of those small photo albums, mostly featuring pictures of her parents and family, a couple of girls from school. I had everything back in place before she came out, naked in a towel, and grabbed the make-up bag.
"Thanks, Coop, you're a really nice guy," she said, genuinely. "I . . . well, it's been a while since someone was nice to me. Even a little bit."
I chuckled wryly. "Not a problem. But I've got to hustle -- hey, do you have cab fare?"
"Got it," she agreed. "There's a cabby that rides me for free. If I ride for free about once a month. And I've got a little cash," she admitted. She looked me up and down. "You got a date?"
"Kind of," I admitted. "A little business, a little pleasure. Your friend Bev, actually."
"The mean nerdy chink dyke?"
"Well, that's not exactly how I would have described her—"
"Yeah, well it wasn't your asshole she shoved a fucking dildo into. Shit! She could have warned me," she said, sullenly.
"Yeah, Bev's kinda mean that way," I admitted. "She had a bad High School experience. But we're going to discuss some business."
"Well let me know if I can help," she said absently, combing her hair.
I thought about it. "Well, maybe you can. That thing with Foster the other night—"
"The old geezer I blew?"
"Yeah, that. That helped out a lot. You interested in more work like that?"
"Work is work," she shrugged. "That was a hundred dollar BJ, and you picked up cab fare. Easy money. Shit, yeah, you got more stuff like that, call me!"
"Hmmm. I'll keep it in mind. You'll be back here tomorrow?"
"Anything you want, Coop. Just give me a good review, and I'm fucking yours."
We left it at that. I escorted her out, called a cab and paid for it, and then drove to the restaurant where I was meeting Bev.
The Piedmont is one of those trendy chef-owner restaurants that prides itself on its tastefully sublime, elegantly serene atmosphere . . . which is restaurant short-hand for "we didn't have enough money for real furnishings, so we're going to go minimalist and call it trendy." It was over in the warehouse district, not too far from the Victory Warehouse I had just bought. The staff was young and pretty, the industrial atmosphere was hip, the food was fresh and inspired, and the price -- well, you pay for trendy. Hell, at least they had a good wine selection.
Bev was already there, looking ravishing in a cocktail dress. Despite her Dragon Lady personae, when she wants to turn on the charm she can look the part of the inscrutable and beautiful Asian sexpot. Go figure. In High School she looked like the Asian fat chick. Cute, in its way, but not in the way that High School girls want to be. She smiled when she saw me and gave me a peck before I held her seat for her.
"Fucking place won't let me smoke," she complained bitterly. "I had to sneak out back and have one with the help."
"I hope that didn't sully your good reputation in doing so," I said, sarcastically.
"Hell, no. Two of the waitresses I used to work with over at Primagen BioSci. Got a good stock tip, if I ever had the capital to use it. Speaking of capital . . . your check cleared," she said, excitedly. "That makes me horny, just so you know."
"I'm shocked," I said, smiling. "I keep my end of the deal. Always. You going to keep yours?"
"You still want to fuck me in the ass?" she said deliberately, and just loudly enough to be overheard at the other tables. She was trying to shock me. She didn't know me very well.
"You bet! But I'll wait until after dinner."
"Are you buying?"
"Of course. I'm old-fashioned that way about girls I know I'm going to fuck in the ass," I said deliberately, and just loudly enough to be overheard. She blushed ever-so-slightly. Point!
"Great! I've lost six pounds in the last month, and I'll go ahead and claim I'm on a diet and that I'm not living in poverty. But tonight I could eat a horse."
"Unfortunately, we're not at a Korean restaurant," I said. She looked properly offended.
"Hey! My people have an ancient and distinguished civilization that was reaching the highest points of culture while your people were still fucking goats in mud huts!"
"Your ancient and distinguished civilization also eats horse meat. At least that side. The Chinese side, I believe, prefers dog meat?"
"My people were northerners, not Cantonese," she shot back, making a face. "You aren't going to defend the goat-fucking?"
I shrugged. "Hell, it's probably true. Never tried it, myself. Unless you count Dora Roberts," I said, alluding to the chick I took to the junior Prom. Dora was an icy and aloof nerdling who towered over me by nearly six inches. Not an attractive girl -- her face was too long and her hair did resemble a goat's. And I didn't ever actually fuck her, but she did let my hand slip under her panties for six glorious minutes after the prom, and she consented to playing with my dick as long as it stayed in my pants. We lost touch after that . . .
"So, all the racial slurs aside, how is our girl Carla?"
"She's . . . well, let me tell you about our last sci-fi book club . . ." I said, and launched into the tale -- only stopping to order a bottle of wine from our amazingly cute red-headed waitress. I've always had a thing for red-heads. By the time I got to the Ewok song, Bev was having a hard time staying in her seat, she was laughing so hard.
"She . . . she . . . oh my god, you are an evil fucking genius, you know?" she accused. "Jesus, Coop, you've got a talent for this sort of thing!"
Then I told her how she helped me out with old man Foster, and lightbulbs started going off.
"Holy shit," she whispered. "That's . . . that's great. I mean, I've been known to drop to my knees to make a deal happen, but that's so . . ."
"Demeaning?" I supplied.
"Time-consuming," she finished. "I mean, you've got to flirt with the guy -- or girl -- and you've got to do the whole 'does he like me, is he gay, will he freak out, is he gonna want to have my babies afterwards' thing. I should have thought about getting a real live whore. Much simpler. Not that I mind working on my technique . . ."
"Which brings me to the tax-deductible portion of our evening," I said, only to be interrupted by the cute redhead (Her name-tag said "Namaste", so she was either a very happy yoga enthusiast or her parents were hippies -- I'm going for the latter). We ordered quickly. I took the lamb steak, and encouraged Bev to go for the lobster. If you're going to fuck a woman in the ass, it's only polite to make sure she feels worth the effort. When Namaste left, I continued. "I've gone in for fifty gees, now. How solid is this company? I mean, I should probably know."
"Rock solid," she said. "No bullshit. They're running lean, but they've got a killer app—"
"Bev, no one says 'killer app' anymore," I chided.
"Shut up, I'm retro. They've got a top product. Scalable, useful, reliable -- and a competitor to something Microsoft just bought. So our chances of either a Big Daddy Gates buy-out is strong. Or a Google buy-out. Or someone. Hell, we might just make it on our own. But it's a solid team, and your generous investment has enabled two more code monkeys to come on board. As a matter of fact, they're busting at the seams in their current space. Next move is to find a bigger office."
"And I might have some thoughts in that direction. I just bought the Victory, remember."
"That run down piece of shit?" she asked, skeptically. "Coop, it's a dump!"
"It's a cheap dump, and not all of it is a mess. Sure, about three quarters of it leaks and has a dirt floor. But if you recall the north eastern quarter, the one that faces where the park is going in, that's real old-style brick tobacco warehouse. Solid. Dusty and decrepit, but solid. A couple of grand for renovations . . ."
"Shit. I had forgotten about that part. Didn't that used to be a tire place?"
"And before that they did sheet metal fabrication. My point is that its about six thousand square feet of space, and your shop is currently working out of . . . how much?"
"About two thousand," she admitted. "But we'd need power, and—"
"I know what you need," I assured her. "Been there, remember? But I think we can work something out, here. Say, fifty-percent off the going rate of rent in exchange for a seat on the board and ten percent stake?"
"That's quite a lot for cheap rent," she said, hesitantly.
"Not as much as you might think. I'll throw in free parking. Plus, y'all can be my new anchor tenants while we're developing the rest of the space. That will make it look viable and lived in, which will make my partners happy, and give us an income, however paltry, which will make my partners happy, and you won't have any landlord issues. Two year lease up front, option to renew." I shrugged. "Hell, first two months, rent free. I'm a sucker, I guess."
"I . . . I'll consider it," she admitted. She wasn't prepared to respond to a bold offer like that, but Bev thinks fast on her feet. "I'll even make it happen if . . . say, I get a percentage ownership in the property. Small piece. Me, personally, not the company."
"I'll have to talk to my partners, but I think we can make that happen."
Business concluded, we went on to have a delightful meal chocked full of sexual innuendo. And Bev was outstanding at sexual innuendo. By the time we had gotten to the dessert course, she had abandoned all subtlety and was aggressively maneuvering in an attempt to shock me. She didn't know me very well.
"So," she said, picking at her chocolate monstrosity delicately with her fork, "You want to fuck my tight little Chinese ass."
"And how," I nodded, enjoying the rich apple pie and ice cream I had chosen. "I'm having a hard time constraining myself, right now. If this dessert was one bit less tasty, you'd get bent over the table, your panties around your knees, with my cock invading your asshole making you scream in pain and ecstasy until everyone in the joint was watching."