My Hermaphrodite Boss Pt. 06

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Bad vibrations.
11.4k words
4.62
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65

Part 7 of the 7 part series

Updated 10/28/2022
Created 09/02/2010
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That night I slept on the sofa. Well, sleep had a little part in it. The sofa designer probably aimed for impressed nods from sophisticated wannabes and little else. I was too nervous to sleep anyways. I dragged myself downstairs and slouched down in Marsha, which is a 24h joint that serves an impossible mishmash of Irish, British, Italian and seafood, shitty coffee on the side. I let the clock crawl while gazing at the night people, guessing their life stories. The sad looking Brooklyn girl in the stylish suit that kept glancing my way from the bar, maybe hoping I'll buy her a drink. The white haired army rags hobo leaning against the window frame, singing to himself like an endless loop application code. "Buy you a Chevrolet give it some of your love." The young pair of gay lovers in the table next to mine, each in turn laughing aloud at every sentence coming out of their partner's mouth.

I was certain that at any moment, a wise stranger sounding a lot like Morgan Freeman, would sit himself next to me and solve all my problems using some deep bullshit like "be decent." God, I was aching to talk to my father. I picked up the cell phone.

"Ian?" a sleepy voice from the other side.

"Hey, love."

"What time is it?"

"Three thirty."

"No shit."

"Sorry about waking you up."

"What's wrong?"

"No, no, I'm fine. I just needed to hear your voice."

"At three thirty."

"I... I'm fine, Sue."

"You don't sound fine."

"I'm just a little needy, tonight." And I wanted to talk to someone sane and normal who doesn't do orgies and extortion. "Everyone OK over there?"

"Sure. Mom is afraid of going out, but that's understandable. Your boss called today."

"Jasmine? What for?" I tried to control my voice.

Sue yawned on the other side of the line. "I don't know really, she's weird."

"What? What did she say?"

"She asked about our relationship, in a by and by sort of way, but she was nosy. If I hadn't known she's one of them Hermaphro freaks I would have guessed there is something going on between you two."

She's not a freak she's a person.

"Ian, you there?"

"I'm coming home tomorrow."

There was a pause on her side.

"I figured we can go alone for a weekend up north to Vancouver, you and me," I said. "You wanted that for some time."

"Oh, that's great, sweetie. Look, I'm half asleep and I don't know what I'm saying. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Sure."

"Bye."

"Bye love." But she already hung the phone.

And I told Jasmine just a week ago that my life is perfect just the way it is. My life is in shambles. Most of it due an immature and egoistic seven-foot lady.

I paid my tab and strode back to the apartment. Tonight's deeds bubbled in my head. Ruth, Ethan, the GeoMatrix contract and my quarrel with Jasmine. I've let Jasmine catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror tonight, and maybe stirred some bolts in the rusty machine she uses for conscience. I think honesty is overrated, consider how much most people appreciate hearing the ugly truth.

Yet for the first time I have found the balls to stand my ground against my boss and lived to tell the hemaphrotale. If anything, a week with Jasmine rubbed onto me some of her 'piss on everyone and set the rest on fire' attitude. I wasn't terrified of her anymore. Time I faced her like a man; she had to listen to my wake up call, go to therapy, get a life and get the fuck out of mine.

I marched into Jasmine's bedroom, full of evangelic light. She was way deep into the land of 'tall women dreams'. Since I wasn't there, she was hugging the pillow, her thumb in her mouth. Innocence and beauty, and the beast that lurked within. Her makeup was smeared all over, as she didn't bother to take it off. It looked like she has been crying for hours before she fell asleep. I silently closed the door and tiptoed back to the couch where at last exhaustion overtook inconvenience.

Maybe because I was so aching to talk to him I dreamed of my dad. We were on the Vera -- his gill-netter he named after my mom. I was, as was always the case, at the helm and he was, as was always the case, perched like a smug pelican on the starboard gunwale, smoking a Cuban which mom never allowed him within the house.

"I miss you," I said.

"She loves you," he said.

"Who does?"

"Stop pretending, grow up," he said. "I'm talking about Jasmine."

"I don't think she knows what it means. She has as much notion of relationship as a gold fish has notion of driving the school bus."

"Love is not relationship."

"Look, dad, people are just tools for that woman. I'm like one of her sex toys, except that she can't stick me in her bedroom closet with the rest."

He blew a ring of smelly smoke and offered me a cigar. As always, I declined.

"She thinks I owe her something? Love? If anything I owe her a thirty eight caliber through her forehead. Abuse, kidnapping, extortion, rape. Even if I could put it aside, and I can't, I owe her nothing."

"You buy her orthopedic shoes," my dad looked thoughtful, as was always the case. "You ask her how her day was, and you cook delicacies especially for her. She's not used to that. You're building her expectations."

"She's confusing kindness with something else?"

"What do you think?"

"All I wanted was to show her a different interaction between adults. You've seen what happened when I told her caring for someone means giving no more than you are willing while expecting nothing in return. She almost wet herself. Her version of relationship is grab all you can before the other fucker does. "

"Don't swear."

"Sorry, dad."

"You know I'm not really your dad, just a manifestation of that oversized conscience of yours."

"I wish you were."

"I'll call you sport, if it will help."

"Not really."

"You're such a nerd, Ian."

"What?"

I woke out at nine thirty. My neck sent me painful messages and my back muscles wept from the horrible couch. I was sweaty and scratchy, since the bathroom was attached to Jasmine's bedroom and I didn't wish to wake her last night. The house was silent to the point of uneasiness. It was strange waking up without Jasmine's wet lips on my cheeks and neck and her 'Hey, Ian, let's do it like they do on the discovery channel on the new kitchen table. Last one there makes cappuccino.' At which point she would wrap me in the blanket and run on her gazelle legs, filling the hallways with her morning mirth. I sighed, rolled, picked up the phone and started dialing her office then I put it down again, picked it up, dialed three digits, then stopped.

What the fuck am I doing? I was free. After three weeks of mental and physical slavery, I was free as a Mongolian rider on the Steppe (poor, unwashed and unemployed, yet free). Somehow, I didn't feel so much like opening a Champaign bottle. Instead of packing my stuff and getting the hell out of prison, I went into the kitchen, made myself a strong black and raided the fridge for yesterday leftovers. I was on my second cup when my mobile started playing Alice Cooper's 'Poison'. It was Jasmine. I stared at the screen, my thumb hovered above the answer button, touched it, but didn't press. I should just flush the mobile down the toilet get myself a new one with a new number. Maybe I should just buy myself a new life, away from Jasmine and everything that goes with her? I disconnected the call, then the doorbell chimed.

The black woman standing at the doorway looked a bit like Marion Jones' taller sister. Pretty round face, broad shoulders, thin springy muscles everywhere and legs that start in Alaska and end somewhere near Hawaii or the other way round. She wore a black trench coat and carried a heavy looking suitcase in her right hand.

"Hello." She had a light British accent and her voice was familiar but I failed to nail it to the unfamiliar features.

"Hi," I said. "Jasmine is not here, she's already gone to work."

She smiled, not the best set of teeth I ever saw. "I know she did, Ian."

You seem to know an awful lot. "Is it stamped on my forehead? Cause I don't recall..."

"Nothing to recall," She strode right in and patted me on the head. "Yet."

"You're Jasmine's friend from the ICE. Noel... no! Nadine."

"She told me you were bright."

Is it just me or the Hermaphrodite race is composed of cocky, overconfident, in your face kinds of bitches? "Should I call Jasmine back? It's not like her to forget a meeting," I said.

Nadine took off a large butterfly clasp and allowed her blond dyed hair to fall around her shoulders. "With whom do I need to sleep to get something to drink around here?"

"There's an old couple down the hall who might take you on."

"Sweet."

"I'm in the kitchen fixing breakfast, if you care to join I can make you a Cappuccino."

"Scotch, straight."

"Life on the edge, I see." I went to Jasmine's bar and pulled out a bottle of Johnny Walker.

"No ice, dumbo."

She and Jasmine even share the same dialog book. "Why pray tell?"

"Ice is for wankers. Savvy?"

"So deep, yet so intriguing."

Nadine sat herself and I made a show of dragging my chair to the opposite side of the kitchen table. She rested her calves on another chair pillow and leaned back with a sigh. I kept sneaking peeks at her legs. They were a nice pair, long, smooth, brown chocolate hue and her black high boots added a lot to the overall leg scene. She took the glass in one healthy sip and poured another.

"So how long have you known Jasmine?" I asked.

"What's that?" She pointed at the table.

"That's called Bansh, it's a Mongolian dumpling. Usually it's taken with a soup but we're fresh out of soup." And the chef was told to fuck off.

"Looks like a clam made of goo." She took a bite. "And tastes like crap."

"Well, me and the rest of the dung beetles, back home, practically grew on it."

"I'll just go for the doughnuts."

"They're not doughnuts, they're Mongolian Boortsog. Give it a touch of some honey before you take a chaw."

Nadine sniffed at the Boortsog and made a face. "Jasmine lets you to cook eastern crap?"

"Allows? Since Saturday, she's gained three extra Boortsog pounds. I'm trying to convince her to cut down."

She dipped her knife in the honey jar and excreted a generous portion. She began smearing it on a Boortsog and then simply wrapped her lips around the knife and sucked. "I've known Jasmine since college," she suddenly said.

I bet it was on a 'How to make your subordinate lose his will to live' course.

"She was just kicked out of Princeton for breaking her dean's nose," Nadine said.

"Well, the years didn't improve on the short fuse problem, just the subtlety."

"A virgin when I met her, can you believe it?" Nadine said.

"Nah, we must be talking someone different."

"Sure, twenty two and a virgin."

"Jasmine, like in 'I have more libido than the Minnesota Vikings and Tiger Woods combined', Jasmine. Virgin at twenty two?"

"I didn't come here to toss out fond memories." Nadine sent an arm decorated with too many bracelets and touched my lips. She had a pleasant faint smell of Maple Syrup. I pulled back.

"Yeah, I fondly remember the obscene phone call from the car."

"If I recall, you were giving Jasmine a music lesson on her skin flute." Nadine smiled.

"Let's not go there," I said, "that's a bottom without a pit."

"I myself am tone deaf," Her chair screeched as she dragged it until she was sitting next to me. "But I'm more than willing to dip my wick in that bottom. Savvy?"

"Rrrrrright." I tried to edge away. "Look, Jasmine and me, sort of had a fight. So, to cut a short story even shorter, basically Jasmine told me yesterday to piss off, like they say on your side of the Atlantic."

"I'm from Jersey." Nadine placed her hand around my waist and pulled me near. Her other hand tousled my hair. "Have you ever been with someone like me?"

Black? Nymph with a cock? Bitch from hell? Woman who thinks Jack Sparrow is cool? Four out of four, you scary woman.

Her hand slid under my butt and cupped my bottom.

I sprung out of my chair. "Ok, then, so you see, I already overstayed my welcome. Half an hour from now I would have been gone."

"Lucky me."

"Any sort of deal you've cut you'll have to take it to Jasmine."

"Or we can just forget about the self centered bitch, go someplace nice together where we can tear the mattress till there are cracks in the walls."

"Go start the car, I'll be right with you."

Nadine picked the knife from the jar and started licking the dull edge. Her tongue slithered skillfully up and down the ridge.

"That's really gross when you stick the knife that visited your mouth back in the jar." I tried to straiten my hair back. Three weeks ago Nadine's Libido would have sent me running for the hills with my tail between my legs. Now it was just another day at work. "There's something that's really bugging me, Nadine. I know I'm not an ape, some girls even say I'm hot. But you're the second hermaphrodite who treats me like I'm Ben Affleck's more attractive brother."

"Deep blue oriental eyes, blond spikes and brown skin. You're in the middle."

"In the middle of what?"

"Pretty as the prettiest girls, but defiantly a male all over. Savvy?" Nadine started unbuttoning her trench coat.

"You're not naked underneath?"

"Of course not, what do you take me for? Come here, I want you sitting in my lap."

"The delicate fine art of slow seduction, you and Jasmine should give courses. Look, I'm sorry to spoil your fantasies but I really should be leaving now."

"You don't know what you're missing."

"I'm torn. On the surface there's this stoic mask, but deep inside I'm really torn to pieces."

"And you're flippant. Jasmine did a lousy job training you. What do you say we do it here on the kitchen table?"

"I'll pass." And send my regards to Norman Bates.

"Once you try black, you never go back."

"Right, I'll be taking a shower, you just sit and figure out some other clichés you might wanna... ahem, toss out, like you said. There's a nice place down the street called Marsha's that's great for pondering."

"I'll wait here, Jasmine wouldn't mind."

"They got London Fog week, Black Pudding at half a price."

"I'm from Jersey, and I'm waiting here, you cheeky git."

I thought I should press the point, then figured it was not my fucking problem and left her to sit, ripen and rot for all I cared, while I took a shower. I turned on the hot water and allowed the hot-pressured spray wash all my worries down the drain. Not my fucking problem, that's another idiom I learned from my new boss. I sighed, wrapped a towel around my waist, picked up the bedroom phone and dialed.

"Jasmine Richardson's office."

"Hey Diana, can I talk to my boss?"

"Ian? It's you? What happened? I heard you got hospitalized." She sounded really cheerful about the prospect.

"I wasn't, I was in Miami that's all. Can I talk to Jasmine?"

"I heard you had a nervous breakdown and had to go in a mental hospital."

"Well, you never were a good listener. Diana, can I talk-."

"She's busy."

"Diana, I'm taking the call." I heard Jasmine's stern voice.

"Hi," she said.

I was ready for an antipathetic 'What do you want?' or something along those lines. However, her simple, 'hi', had all the friendliness and shyness of someone who tries to make amends.

"I'm so glad you called back," she said.

"I didn't, I just-."

"Wait a second. Just give me a chance to finish what I have to say to you." Her voice sounded stressful; devoid of all its usual false smugness and bravado. But Jasmine wasn't exactly below faking distress for empathy.

"Ok."

"Where are you right now?"

"I'm in your bedroom, packing." I pulled my suitcase out of Jasmine's closet and started throwing my staff inside.

"Wait, please wait."

"What for?"

"Can you at least wait till I get home? We're gonna sign the Geomatrix contract in an hour and then I'll get right back."

"You're asking me to stay? Not threatening to dip my mother in molten lava unless I stay? Because if you're afraid I'll use the files I uploaded last night, then you can start breathing again. I'm not gonna threaten, extort or do anything else. I'm not like you, Jasmine."

"Look, Ian, you can't use those files, you got your fingertips all over the Geomatrix servers breach. It doesn't matter, I'm not going to threaten you ever again."

"Yeah, right."

"When in the last twelve hours have you become such a prick? Can't you at least give me the benefit of a doubt?"

"Ok." I sighed.

"Yesterday I was too furious to think, but I've been sitting in my office for the last couple of hours and... Well, you're right."

"Huh?"

"My life is a dichotomy. Either at the bottom or at the top, there was never an equilibrium. When I was young, I felt like a princess trapped in a pit, waiting for something to happen. I'm not gonna whine or anything, you know I'm not... But you have no clue how cruel people can be to someone like me."

"I ran into some of that."

"So you do have a clue. Then at college everything changed."

"You met Nadine?" I said.

"Yeah, how...? "

"An educated guess, go on."

"Nadine showed me the other side of the coin. She changed my perception and gave me the tools to... well, to be what I am right now. But you're right, I never had what you call a normal relationship, something, well, similar to what we had in the last couple of days. But I want to."

What we had was as normal as Jack Nicolson in the second part of the Shining, yet I was not going to spill the water along with the baby. "That's... Actually that's great." I tried what I hoped was my most encouraging tone. "Half the way to solving a problem lies in admitting you have one."

"Don't be a condescending prick."

"I'm not, it's pretty amazing. I keep looking behind my shoulder waiting for you to appear and say -- 'made you look.'."

Jasmine laughed on the other side of the line.

"No kidding, sorry, that's really amazing."

"I'm sorry I yelled at you last night."

"Who are you and what did you do with Jasmine?"

"I'm giving it my best shot. You have no clue how hard it was for me to say what I just said."

"What was it?" I said.

"Asshole." She laughed. "So, what do you say?"

"About what?"

"I want that equal relationship; I want what we had for the last week to continue."

"You want a relationship? You mean, with me?"

"No, with the pope and princess D, whom else did you figure, dummy?"

"Jasmine I-"

"Wait, you gave me a taste of how it's supposed to be and I can't, I wont, go back to a life without Boortsog." She laughed.

"Do you have any idea how insane that sounds?"

"Ok, I'll cut down on Boortsog."

"Jasmine, three weeks ago you invited me here for a job interview, you don't even recall what happened that night?"

"I wish I could turn back the clock."

"I thought regret was only for losers like me?"

"Ian, I'm trying... I want to change...I'm honestly sorry."

"Well, if you're sorry, that changes everything. I mean, you raped me, sent my girlfriend's mom to be deported, humiliated me, threatened me and made me into a sex toy, but if you're sorry then I guess I'll just have to dump my entire life and come rushing into your arms so we can live happily ever after."

"Ian."

"Jasmine, you're in need of help, serious help. You need to see someone professional. I'm packing my stuff and I won't be coming back, ever, here or to work, I quit, you hear me?"

"Ian, please. How can you be so fucking...? Why did you call me back then?"

"So fucking what?"

"Cruel."

"Me? God almighty. Your nut-job of a girlfriend, Nadine, is in the kitchen, waiting for you. That's why I called, to ask you if I should kick her out or let her stay."