Soap On A Rope - The Aftermath

"Orgasming always feels good goddammit! It's like pizza; even bad ones are fairly ok. But they're still bad. Can we put the Thorkster to rest now please? I don't wanna answer any more questions about that asshole. He's done. Finito. Over!"

"Sure honey; fine with me. Have you ever had sex with a girl?"

"WHAT? What kind of fucked-up question is that?"

"Cluck... cluck... cluck..." I replied.

"Of course I haven't!"

"The answer is false," said doctor Burke.

Marie's face was now almost as red as her hair and she looked like she was an inch away from having a stroke.

"Mumble, mumble, mumble, high school," she stammered illegibly.

"Say, did you ever have a threesome with two guys?"

"N... oh crud. Yes. Way before we got married!"

"The answer is true," said doctor Burke.

"Do you love it when I'm rimming your ass?"

"No, gross!"

"The answer is false," said doctor Burke.

Marie stuck her tongue out and blew a raspberry. I just smiled making a mental note of all the cool new stuff I was learning.

"Do you masturbate more than three times a week?"

"Fuck you Dave! Yes!"

"The answer is true," said doctor Burke.

"Have you ever masturbated to internet porn?"

"I... I... crap... yes!"

"The answer is true," said doctor Burke.

"Did you get horny watching Twilight when the werewolf-dude lost his shirt?"

"Yes you idiot! Like every other female in the theater under eighty."

"The answer is true," said doctor Burke.

"Have you ever imagined getting ravished by dozens of hairy men in a Turkish bath?"

"What the hell kind of oddball question is that? No fucking way!"

"The... answer... is... in... conclusive," said doctor Burke between snorts.

"Did you ever insert a vegetable in your pussy and later used it for cooking?"

"DAVE! "

Doctor Burke said nothing. He was busy roaring with laughter.

****

After helping Burke pack up and get his German tin box out of my spot, we sat down in the kitchen and shared a lager. Marie was still blushing from my poignant questioning.

"Oh my god Dave, I can't believe you asked me all that shit in front of doctor Burke," she sighed. "I'm never gonna be able show my face in public again!"

"I wasn't the stupid one here Marie. YOU were. A friggin polygraph? Seriously? Have you looked up the word 'overkill' lately?"

She gave me a tired look.

"I needed you to believe me Dave, REALLY believe me. I would never fuck around on you; not in a million years. I had to make you trust me again. This was the only way I could prove myself without a shadow of a doubt."

I took her hands.

"You're a bitch Marie. That's one of your many endearing qualities and also the reason why I never doubted you for a second. Do you know why?"

She shook her head.

"Because if you ever got mad enough to fuck somebody else, you would tell me straight to my face. You don't sneak around on people. You're a bulldozer honey, not a ninja."

That got a giggle out of her, and she smiled.

"But now it's time for me to take you to bed and rim that cute little ass of yours," I declared. "And don't even try denying that you love it after the polygraph session."

Marie yelped and tried to get away, but I threw her over my shoulders and carried her to bed in a fireman's grip. The polygraph was correct. I had to hold her down and she was screaming loudly enough to wake up half the neighborhood, but she really did love getting her ass rimmed. In fact, I discovered it to be a new way for me to bring her to orgasm.

As I felt her sphincter pumping in orgasmic rhythm around my tongue I decided to mail doctor Burke a fat bonus.

****

A few months of our lives had gone by when I was greeted by a flustered Sandra in the hallway.

"Jarrod Thorkelson is waiting for you boss, and he is mad as hell."

"Thanks for the heads-up Sandy. Lets go see what ails the poor fellow, shall we?"

As soon as I stepped out of the elevator the Thorkster came rushing at me like a wraith in a seventies Roger Corman movie.

"Dave fucking Connor, you goddanmed asshole! You are going to pay for this, I swear. Big time!"

I stared at him, nonplused.

"Why don't you take a chill pill and tell me what the hell this is about Jarrod? Because as of right now I have no fucking idea what I'm supposed to have done to you."

"Aston..." he sputtered.

"Who the hell is Aston? "

"My fucking car, you moron! My Aston Martin DB9!"

"You have a have a two hundred-thousand dollar car?" I exclaimed. "Holy crap Jarrod! How much do they pay you guys down in accounting?"

"SHUT UP! You fucking ruined it!" he yelled.

"Listen Thorks... Jarrod. I didn't even know you HAD the damned thing, let alone where you keep it. Whatever happened to it, it wasn't me who did it. By the way, what DID happen to it?"

The Thorkster sat down in my client chair and Sandra brought him a cup of coffee. The fight seeped out of him like stale air from a punctured tire.

"I'm so fucked Dave. You probably know that my group just returned from two months external training in the new CRM system, right?"

"No I didn't. But go ahead."

"When I got home last night I went to the garage to check the battery, and... and... "

The Thorkster took a large sip of his mug. Then he continued.

"There was a horrible smell and the garage was full of flies. And my Aston... the cabin was filled with liquefied rotten meat. The interior was halfway dissolved and crawling with maggots, everything inside is basically ruined. My mechanic says that the entire car must be stripped down and all non-metal parts replaced. You can't even enter the fucking garage without a breathing apparatus. The police claims that somebody put four dead pigs in it and left them in the heat to rot for over a month."

He hid his head in his hands, "Who would do such a horrible thing?"

"Mythbusters season 2003 episode seven," I said helpfully.

"What?" he looked at me as if I had sprouted an extra head.

"They did something like that on the show. To a Corvette I believe. Anyway, I see why you're upset, but clearly this is a matter for your insurance. They'll probably give you a new car. Sounds like this one is totaled."

"They won't pay," he said almost crying. "They claim that I called and cancelled my insurance two months ago and subsequently confirmed it through my e-mail. The same guy who took my license plates and returned them to the DMV probably did it. I can sue the insurance company of course, but my lawyer says I'll lose."

"And your home owners insurance?"

"Won't pay either. There is no sign of forced entry and besides they claim that an Aston is a special item and thus not covered by a standard policy. I checked the small print; they're right."

The Thorkster got up.

"Anyway, I'm sorry that I came at you like that Dave. I've had a really bad day. You don't like me for obvious reasons, but this goes way beyond normal male-rivalry. I was outta line."

"No problem Jarrod. I know we've had our differences, but if there's anything I can do, please do not hesitate to let me know."

We shook hands and he left. Sandra dropped in with a fresh mug of mocha for me.

"By the way Boss," she said. "My uncle called yesterday and asked if we need more dead pigs soon. He is culling the flock next week."

We looked at each other for a moment; then broke down laughing.

"Remind me never to attempt seducing Marie no matter how hot she is," Sandra giggled.

"You know Sandy, I learned something very interesting about my loving wife's past when she happened to be hooked up to a polygraph a few months ago..."