Sex is a Job Description? Ch. 05byGalloglaich©
Veronica mulled something about in her mind that she just couldn't quit thinking about. She bit the tip of her pencil and chewed on the lead tip every now and again while she leaned back in her chair. Her eyes stared aimlessly at the ceiling while her mind fit thoughts and ideas together in her head.
When had Tom been cursed? And by what?
None of the records here revealed those two things. He was cursed at some point, that was for sure. But who or what had done it eluded even the great political machine that ran the Special Divisions of the Department of Homeland Security and Internal Affairs, one of which Tom still worked for.
Everyone here had their records fleshed out since the day they'd arrived. Everyone down to Veronica and Werin, the other demon who worked with the Department, had their lives prior to joining the Department investigated and recorded. Veronica hadn't been happy to learn that somebody here knew full well everything she'd done since birth, but she couldn't do a thing about it.
These people always got what they wanted.
But for Tom, his file was slim compared to even the newbies here. His life beyond the age of fourteen was almost a total mystery. His birth records hadn't ever been found, despite inquiries to just about every hospital within seven hundred miles of the place he'd been found, and more. His birthparents hadn't been found, though what was left of his foster parents had been, right where Tom had been picked up for the first time.
It was like he'd been born in the institution at fourteen and been raised by the Department into what he was now. It was a little sad to see the empty shell of a happy child shuffle in and out of the detainment center with a manilla folder in hand, coming or going.
Only a little though.
Veronica had seen sob stories worse than this one. She'd barely been touched by the hardships and misfortunes of those far more troubled than Tom. But then again, he was a different case. She hadn't seen anyone but Tom crying on a stony beach, broken and dying.
She shrugged and tossed her pencil behind her in boredom, spinning her chair toward the door. She stood up and reached for the knob, but somebody pulled it open from the other side and stopped Veronica where she was.
"Oh, just the demon I was hoping to see," three oh one thirty, lesser known as Ceria, purred as she flipped lazily from page to page in a manilla folder. Veronica breathed calmly and slowly as she backed toward the opposite wall and put her chair in front of her.
"Can I offer you a seat?" she said, gesturing toward the chair. What in the Hell was she doing here?
Ceria smiled. "Thank you." She made herself comfortable in Veronica's chair and closed the door with her foot. She flipped the lock with the tip of her shoe and then turned around to face Veronica.
There was a tense moment where Veronica's fear was palpable, and using this, Ceria spoke with measured calmness and a cheerful demeanor.
"I'd like to request a guest for a festival that is going to take place in my estate soon. Several guests actually. As a token of friendship between Hell and the United States of America, I've extended six invitations to this festival toward your organization."
"And the Director sent you to me to create a list of the guests?" Veronica offered, completely lost and a little afraid of the demon sitting before her. This was three oh one thirty. She didn't come to offer peace to the Department. She didn't come in friendship. She didn't ever come for anything but her own desired to be fucked until she was satisfied.
And she did not 'request' anything; she demanded it.
"Well, not exactly," Ceria replied, slipping a few pages out of the folder and handing them to Veronica. "I've been searching through your records to find out which of your number I want, and it comes as a very interesting fact that the one I want most is not permitted to be assigned to Hell."
"And these are his records?" inquired Veronica, looking at a page with 'Thomaz Lanzig' typed neatly across the center.
"Yes. And I would like them changed to reflect my desires," the sly demon replied, giving Veronica a very serious look.
The agent hesitated as she looked at the capital 'H' on the third page with Y/N printed next to it and the 'N' circled with a dark, heavy red pen stroke.
"I don't know if I can change this. There are off-site backups of all these records, virtual data, encrypted. Even if someone manages to be fooled by a change here, some bookie in D.C. Is going to notice that somebody ended up where they shouldn't. And then-"
"Let me put this in a less forgiving way," Ceria said, cutting Veronica's words off completely. "Thomas Lanzig will be on the list of guests allowed into Hell for the festival at my estate. Thomas Lanzig will be the first name on that list. And Thomas Lanzig will be in Hell within the year. Or as you here would say, there will be Hell to pay. And I will demand a huge sum for failure."
Veronica had to force herself to breathe. "As you wish," she said in a shallow, hollow voice.
A smile crept across Ceria's lips.
"That's what I like to hear. Now, I'll leave this here with you, and I'll go to your Director about what needs to be done to prepare the six chosen to entertain at the festival." Ceria stood to leave, but Veronica held her at the door, putting her hand on the knob as Ceria reached for it.
She had to force herself to breathe again. "I don't know what you want with Tom, but I'll let you know up front that if you kill him-"
Ceria put her hand gently on Veronica's cheek and gave her a soft, threatening smile.
"The manner of fun I choose to have with that boy is none of your concern. That is strictly between me and that curse of his."
With that, Ceria removed Veronica's hand from the door and strode down the hallway seemingly without a care in the world. Veronica could only watch her and think how impossibly difficult it was going to be to get Tom's files and backups changed in the amount of time she had. She looked down at her trembling hand.
Christ, she needed more coffee.
Meanwhile, Tom was busy having his back gawked at by the other guys in the locker room at school. He had only realized that he was covered with dark indigo hickeys and dozens of lacerations from Tyrin's nails after he had decided to go to school today despite his mental and physical fatigue. Luckily, his wounds from his near-fatal adventure in Scotland were nearly healed completely.
However, it was fairly obvious that the ones from last night hadn't healed, and the general assumption was that he'd been having rough, wild sex last night until the early hours of the morning. Tom tried to dissuade his classmates from taking things too far, but of course they were exactly right.
"Dude, you seriously have like twenty hickeys all over you. What the hell did you do last night?" Alan said, putting on his gym shirt.
Tom shrugged. "You know, and don't try to blow this out of proportion. I had sex with this girl last night, and she got really physical from the start." Well, that was mostly the truth.
"Wait, does she go here? Was it Amy Silvert?" Alan pushed. Several eyes turned toward Tom then.
"No," Tom almost shouted. "No, hell no. Amy is easier than a Thai hooker. Nastier too. No, you know...it was just some girl I met out and about. We hooked up. That's pretty much it."
"Nobody gets fucked up like you did from just hooking up. What was she, a goddamn jungle cat covered in razor blades?"
"Nah, probably just a cougar, trollin' around for a young stag to pounce on, right Tom?" Victor said, laughing.
"Yeah, sure," Tom replied as they left the locker room. "She's older."
"How old are we talkin' here? Thirties?" Alan asked.
"I dunno, I never asked. She wasn't old, no crow's feet or wrinkles," answered the agent, remembering Tyrin's vibrant eyes staring at him with forgotten passion and longing. He was silent for a little while before Victor clapped a hand on his back.
"Hey, still with us?" he asked.
"Yeah, I'm still here. Last night tired me out so bad I can hardly function. I feel like a zombie," Tom said, yawning loudly. Though he tried not to show it, his back hurt like hell from Victor's friendly slap.
"So you still haven't told us what she looked like," Devan noted.
"Yeah, great rack, thighs, what?" Alan said.
Tom thought for a moment. "If I said there's not one person on this earth with a better set of thighs and hips, would you believe me?"
"Alexis Texas good?" Alan questioned.
Tom scoffed. "She's better, way better. Like if Alexis Texas wasn't just all ass."
"Well, looks like somebody took his time getting to bed last night," Coach Ward commented, having overheard pretty much the whole conversation from the locker room door to the gym. "Let's keep the small talk PG, alright boys?"
"Yes sir," the students chimed in relative unison. Coach Ward walked ahead of them and blew his whistle for the students to get into their places for roll call.
"No but seriously, better?" Alan asked.
"Not fucking fair."
Fifth period, ten minutes away from getting out of school and into his car to drive to McDonald's. Tom rapped his fingertips on his desk repeatedly, having finished the notes and worksheet Mr. Brommor had tasked the class with. He and his teacher weren't on even glancing terms right now, and Tom was perfectly fine with that.
Something landed on Tom's desk and slid into his lap as he pondered what to get to eat. He looked at it, thinking it was going to be a pen or something someone had thrown. Instead, what he found was a neat little triangle of paper with a question mark in dark pencil written on the back. He looked around and saw a girl looking at him from across the room.
Cynthia, one of the hottest girls in school, actually.
Tom shrugged and unfolded the piece of paper until he could read what had been concealed on the inside. What Tom read genuinely surprised him to a large degree. 'How much do you want me?'
Tom flipped the paper over and scribbled 'describe want' on it. Lacking the skill to do what she did, he just crumpled the paper up and tossed it back to her. She read it, pulled out a bright pink pen, and scribbled an answer. She tossed it back to him and he read her response.
'Sex want' was all it said. Tom thought on it for a moment, and then wrote '5/10, I dunno. I get enough sex already' He sent it back, and it didn't look like she was very happy with his reply. She wrote something and then threw it back.
'5? Are you fucking kidding me? Prick. My house, Thursday after school.' Tom tried to figure out what the last part meant, considering that she'd just called him a prick. Did she really want him to fuck her? One look at her told him no, and one look at the paper said yes. He rolled his eyes and stuffed the paper into his pocket. He'd just ask her after class.
The bell rang a little while later and Tom caught up to her half way through the parking lot. She didn't look at all happy, not that he cared much anyway. It wasn't like she was going to start a rumor that he was lame in the sack if she was pissed.
"What did you mean by your house on Thursday?" Tom asked.
Cynthia arched a plucked, thin brow and smirked. "I want you to be at my house after school on Thursday." She leaned in close to his ear. "Nobody gives me a fucking five out of ten. Especially an awkward little faggot like you."
Tom chuckled a little. "Forget everything I just said. Forget the five, you're a two. I absolutely cannot stand a girl with a condescending attitude. If you want to have sex that badly, come to my house on Friday."
"You're saying no?" Cynthia shouted, incredulous.
"No, I'm saying I need you to ask me for sex. That's how everyone else does it." Tom turned around and started walking back to his car.
"And if I say you raped me?" the cheerleader asked slyly.
The agent shrugged. "I have a gun in my glove box. I can prevent that situation in a heartbeat."
"You just threatened me! Do you know how much trouble I can get you in?"
Tom look a long, contemplative look at the sky, and then shook his head slowly. "My house on Friday. Come in through the back door. It'll be unlocked."
Tom was eating cereal watching TV when his back door shook with loud thuds on Friday afternoon. At first, he thought it was a really poor attempt at breaking in, but when he saw Cynthia about to blow a gasket, a wide grin crept over his face. He stood up and walked to the back door.
"Let me the fuck in you prick!" Cynthia shouted.
"D'you bring a condom? I don't usually use one, and I'm sure as hell not risking-"
She had a box of them slapped against the door pane before he could finish. Apparently, she was expecting him to be a quick-shot or something. That, or she thought she was staying the night.
Tom unlocked the door and opened it just enough to let her inside. Cynthia, almost red in the face with frustration, suddenly ducked back out the door and yelled at someone else.
"Hurry up!" She pushed past Tom as he peered out the door to see who she'd brought with her. He recognized Amanda, one of Cynthia's cheerleading buddies. With a sigh, he waved her in and she winked at him as she passed.
Tom looked around to make sure there wasn't anyone else that he'd have to put up with and then closed the door, locking it. He turned around to find that Cynthia and Amanda were already rummaging through his refrigerator and Amanda had one of the last two pitchers of Hera's breast milk in her hands.
"I wouldn't drink that if I were you. That's for work, and you're not gonna like what it does to you," he warned, taking another bite of his Cocoa Puffs.
Amanda looked intrigued. "Oh? What's it gonna do?" she asked curiously, dipping her finger into the pitcher.
"Make you puke for two days and spend a night in the hospital," he replied, causing Amanda to shove the pitcher back into the fridge and opt for a coke instead. Meanwhile, Cynthia was taking no time to heat up all the spaghetti he'd cooked two nights ago. Between the two of them, it looked like he was the guest and this was their house.
Tom sat down on one of the bar stools at the island in the kitchen and finished his cereal off. Amanda looked all around his living room and kitchen from where she stood at the island while Cynthia was busy looking through every drawer for a fork.
"Hey, where's the silverware?"
Tom pointed to the drawer next to her. "There."
"So..." Amanda began. "This is a big house. Are your parents out or something?"
Tom shrugged. "They don't live here."
"Wait, you live here by yourself? Alone?" she asked, incredulous.
"Yep," he replied as Cynthia pulled another stool up to the island and started eating.
Amanda's eyes glittered. "Oh my God you're so lucky! I would kill to not have my parents freaking out about every little thing that went on in my life! So you don't have any rules at all? You can do anything you want?"
"I can have you two over to fuck, can't I?" he answered, taking his empty bowl to the sink.
"It's a privilege that we even came over to your house," Cynthia snorted.
Tom rolled his eyes. "I can always say no and go pick someone up at a club tonight. It's honestly not that hard."
"How many girls do you honestly think would come here and screw you without getting paid for it?" the cheerleader asked rhetorically.
"Well, I've got like six numbers, an address, and two coupons to Bonefish Grill from one week of clubbing. Wanna see?"
"Whatever." She looked around for a moment and then stuck her fork into her spaghetti. "What do you do? I mean, is this your parents' old house or something?"
"No, I have a job with really good benefits." He moved into the living room and grabbed the remote. He turned the TV off and then returned to the kitchen.
"What kind of job pays for a house like this and not your shitty car?"
Tom sighed. "Look, as much as I'd love to make small talk for an hour, I have stuff to do today. Can we just get on with this? Where do you want to have sex?"
Cynthia looked like she'd been caught off guard, and she gave Amanda and sideward glance. They exchanged a confused look and the latter shrugged after a couple seconds of hushed whispering and debate. Cynthia eventually shrugged like her friend and shook her head.
"I didn't think you'd be asking me. Anywhere's fine."
"Well, choose quick. I already turned off Starsky and Hutch for this. Any more and I'm gonna turn the TV back on."
"Fine. Your room," Cynthia said without hesitation. She looked more than a little annoyed.
"Well, let's get up there and do this then," said Tom as he stripped his shirt off and tossed it onto the couch in the living room. Cynthia and Amanda followed him up to his room and gave each other looks as they went up the stairs and down the hallway to his room.
"Alright, well, I guess you wanna do it on the bed, right?" Tom took his pants and boxers off in one motion and tossed them into the dirty laundry bin. He realized that neither of the girls had undressed yet.
"Hello? You did come here to have sex, right? I'm not just getting played for a fool here am I?" he asked, waving his hand in front of Cynthia's face. The cheerleader let out a sigh in mild contempt and stripped her shirt off.
"I didn't think you'd like take off all your clothes this quick. Is there even gonna be foreplay, or do you expect me to just like put out for nothing?"
"Hey, you said you wanted to have sex, not me to romance you," Tom shot back testily. "I already don't like you. I'm only doing this because it weighs more in my favor to do it than to not."
"Go fuck yourself Tom," Cynthia retorted, throwing her shirt at him. She undressed and Tom extended his arm toward the bed.
"I guess...however you want me to do it. What position do you want?" This was extremely odd for Tom. He'd never had to be this forward about it. Normally, things just fell into place how they did and things got done.
"I like it from behind," Cynthia replied with an impish grin. She hopped on the bed and Tom looked at Amanda.
"Did you bring the condoms? Or are they still downstairs?"
Amanda grabbed the box from the dresser next to her and tore one of the condoms off the ribbon of them. She tossed it to him. "Have fun."
Tom shrugged. "I guess that means you're not here for me?"
"No, I'm just here because Cynthia asked me to be." She gave Tom one of those looks that said she honestly wanted to be somewhere else. He didn't blame her, so when she left, he didn't say anything about it.
He found Cynthia on all fours, wagging her ass back and forth at him, waiting. This was almost too unbelievable for him to wrap his head around. One of the most annoying, conceited, rude people he'd ever met was on his bed, waiting for him to fuck her. And he was honestly about to fuck her.
He pushed the thought out of his head and put on the condom Amanda had given him. He moved behind Cynthia and put the tip of his cock against her sex.
"Ready?" he asked, noticing that she was actually really short compared to him. She looked fragile compared to the other women he'd had sex with. Actually, comparatively, she was just a girl, eighteen, and far less developed than all the others.
"Just hurry up and stick it in me," she said. Tom grabbed her hips and pushed into her down to the base without any second thoughts. Cynthia let out a load yelp in surprise and pain, looking back at Tom angrily.
"What?" he said.
"Asshole," she growled, starting to rock against him. Tom loosened his grip on her and started falling into rhythm with her body. He didn't really feel anything in this, especially not with a condom on. It was like eating your favorite food without it touching your tongue. Sure, you knew it was good, but you still lost the only part you cared about.