Tom Ch. 01

Stetson pulled low, eyes wide in terror, young Tom Briscoe rode into town in a Yellow Cab. He would have preferred a horse but couldn't find the hitching rail outside his terminal at JFK. After taking a look at all the traffic and the tall buildings holding up the clouds, he was pleased as a well-fed Texas Rat Snake that the cabbie agreed to take him on the journey to Madison for one hundred bucks.

The kind cabbie turned into Madison and said, "This is it pal; your hundred has run out of steam."

Tom was left with only five bucks so didn't attempt to negotiate or toss the cabbie out and drive himself on an avenue with vehicles were as thick as ants on the way to a fiesta over a Turkey Buzzard's dropping. He began walking with an iron hard-on; it just wouldn't go down, not with all the late morning tit swells over the top of tight black dresses and sweet little asses that bobbed and bucked as the high heels clicked on the pavement.

He'd write home about this but there was no sense doing that, the nearest mailbox was fifty miles west of his family home. His father sold gas and operated a one-horse hire business. In the area where they lived in Loving County there were eight horses and three vehicles for every person so the horse had never been ridden in thirteen years and that meant it was being run at a loss. Uncle Jed visited once a year to fuck Tom's mother and swap yarns with Tom's father who was his brother.

Jed had replied no to Kate when she said, "Take me away from all this," not that there was much to be taken away from. Jed told Kate she was becoming a little too heavy in the ass and tits to compete for his attention in New York and anyway his wife would object. Instead he would send young Tom an air ticket and hire him to run coffee in the office for artists and copywriters and people who mystified him why they were on the payroll. Tom would stay with Jed's family.

Tom had asked his parents how could a guy pay people month in, month out without knowing what they did? His dad scratched his nuts, that initiating his mom to scratch her left armpit, and they reached for their drinks and said they had no idea. Because neither was enthusiastic about lifting a hand to do anything they were probably telling the truth; being industrious wasn't a concept they understood.

By lucky accident Tom found Brown's Building in which Uncle Ted's business occupied floors fourteen and fifteen. Tom had seen too many disaster movies involving elevators so took to the stairs, having to sweep aside cobwebs. A pretty young woman at reception with her boobs practically spilling out over her keyboard just in the way Microsoft had designed a receptive shape on its curving keyboards said, "Howdy partner."

Tom took off his white Stetson, flashed teeth honed on almost raw meat for all but the first two years of his twenty-four years, said 'Howdy ma'am'. The woman's eyes rolled into her head, her body convulsed hugely three times and her eyes rolled back in place and she cooed, "Oooh, that was nice. It's not everyday I'm fucked remotely. Do you have an appointment?"

"No ma'am. Could you kindly have me rustled along to Uncle Ted Briscoe?"

"Oh God, you are the protégé."

"What's that?"

"Never you mind. You won't understand. You are from Texas. Please follow me Mr Briscoe."

"You know my name. New York has half a million people..."

"Or so."

"... half a million or so people and you know my name? You must be psychic?"

"What's that?"

"Never you mind. You won't understand. You are from New York."

Jed leapt out of his chair ready to lay Fiona from reception over his desk when he saw someone was with her. He took another look and saw it was his favorite nephew. This was even better than shafting Fiona.

"Tom, welcome to City of Dreams. What's you dream Tom?"

Tom who'd followed Fiona from reception said, "I'd like the butt of this receptionist twice a day."

"Right Fiona," Jed grinned, winking at her. Give Tom your butt at the first opportunity."

"Very good sir. I'll wait outside."

Jed asked how much had the cab fare cost from the airport.

"A hundred."

"The cheating crooked swine. Just because you're Texan there was no need to fleece you. Pity you didn't get the number of the cab."

"I did sir."

Tom told Jed the number and Jed called in his PA who reminded Tom of a bulldog. Jed told her the story. "Call the cab company and demand a refund and compensation and ask that cabbie to be severely remanded. If they tell you to fuck off tell them we'll sue, taking them all the way to the Supreme Court if necessary."

"Yes sir," said the bulldog, snapping a salute and walking off rubbing her hands gleefully.

"I thought you'd have a PA you could fuck?"

"Tom this is your first lesson in advertising agency. Your Aunt Clement comes into this office so I have a PA who scares everyone shitless including Clement. Your aunt is left with the impression that she and only she is the one I fuck."

"That's brilliant sir."

"I knew it Tom. You have 'executive' written all over you."

Jed called in his son. Carl wearing a snappy suit entered. Carl, almost twenty-eight, was broad-shouldered counting the pads, with dark good looks spoilt by a curled arrogant lip. He looked at Tom disinterestedly.

"Carl, you'll remember cousin Tom don't you?"

"No."

Tom sunk a jab into Carl's belly. He folded to the floor gasping, and his father looked on impassively. Tom helped Carl to his feet.

Carl still breathing heavily asked, "What the fuck was that for?"

"You'll never forget me again, will you?"

"Oh correction, senior executive material," Jed beamed. "Carl, I'm placing Tom under your wing. Start him at the very bottom and let him find his own level. If you mistreat him he has my permission to hit you."

"He won't catch me napping next time."

"I advise you to watch it Carl. Tom is coiled steel -- have him on your side, not against you."

Tom said he'd be back at Carl's office in fifteen minutes and excused himself.

Fiona took Tom by the hand and led him into the women's rest room. She took a free condom from the dispenser, handed it to Tom and hitching up her skirt, leant over the beach. She wasn't wearing panties.

"Which hole?"

"You choose," she cooed.

They worked away, women coming and going without raising a fuss. Tom assumed this was how ad agency business works in New York.

The bulldog, who Tom had been formerly introduced to as Miss Isaacs during his tour, came to him later all smiles and handed him an envelop. "Here is your cab fare reimbursed plus another hundred in compensation."

Tom was soon running non-stop, making and delivering coffee.

A graphics designer with a ridiculously bushy moustache said, "Take this back and fetch another. It has a small spill."

"That's what the paper napkin is for sir."

"I repeat, fetch me..."

"Do you want cup and saucer complete with coffee rammed down your turkey-looking throat?"

The entire department hushed.

"Um, this coffee looks fine... er... Tom wasn't it?"

"Thank you Cedric. Enjoy."

The email was posted instantly on the internal ticker tape that ran along the bottom of everyone's computer screen: 'WARNING, WARNING. Tom Briscoe new coffee guy prepared to ram complainant's coffee cup down throat far enough to come out of butt-hole.'

At that, eighty-eight people in the office resolved to remember who Tom Briscoe was and knew not to hassle him. Jed read the tape and grinned, thinking junior vice-president within twelve months providing Tom showed some talent.

As arranged Tom went home with Carl who showed Tom to the guest bedroom in the huge apartment. He found Aunt Clement in her bedroom doing her nails. They kissed and she said she'd see him in the living room for drinks. He found cousin Jane, in her second year in law practice, singing in the shower. He opened the door and said "Hi."

She yelled what the fuck was he doing?

"Looking at the firmest, curviest body in all of New York. You do look swell."

"Tom? With that drawl you must be Tom. Where would you like to kiss me? God I haven't seen you for six years."

"Eight years. The lips please. Your cunt is all soapy."

"Oh Tom, you're in New York. You can't talk to young women like that."

"Like what?"

"Oh it doesn't matter," Jane giggled, coming forward to kiss him.

"Are you on the pill?"

"Um... er... yes, Gawd you can't ask women that."

"Ask them what?"

Jane giggled and felt his abs. "I've completely forgotten what I was going to say."

The family gathered for drinks. Asked what he wanted Tom said a light beer.

"Sorry, right out of beer," Jed said. "I'll get some in tomorrow."

Tom asked for the phone number of the nearest bar. Jed gave him his phone with the number already ringing, saying he occasionally had to drag Clement away from her friends to come home for dinner.

The family listened attentively.

"Hi, I'm Tom Briscoe. Could I speak to your youngest wait staff girl please. I forget her name."

"Ah yes, Julie."

"Hi Julie. I'm Tom Briscoe from Texas and will be into your bar to visit you in a day or two, probably in the evening."

"Oh you work only in evenings, good. Listen I'm a guest in Barton & Bridge Towers just opposite you guys. They have all sorts of drinks here but no beer. Could you get one of your guys as a special favor to zap up with a dozen of light ale, any label; I'll hand across fifty bucks."

"Hi again. Oh, that's good. Lovely of you Julie. You are a sweetheart. Here's the address. Got that? Good. Five minutes... Hank you say. That's perfect. You are a darling!"

Hank arrived with the dozen of beer and went away smiling with Tom's $50. Jed handed Tom $100 and said no guest was buying drinks in his house. "The other $50 is for entertainment: we were entranced listening to that dialogue. But why ask for the youngest woman knowing she'd be unlikely to come up here?"

"Young women wait staff are keen to please, unlike their older contemporaries. I knew she'd not fail me and would get some guy off his ass to make the delivery."

Jed said the bar could be breaking its license, making a home delivery.

"That's the other reason I asked for the youngest girl, thinking she'd be a student and would have the brains to send the beer over in a larger cardboard box and that is exactly what happened. It was a box that had been packed with jars of olives. Thus not sign of illegal trading."

At dinner if the family had expected Tom to carry on being entertaining, they were not disappointed. He told them stories about the ranch he'd worked on having cattle rustled and then rustling them back plus as many of that number again... of the RV that visited the bunkhouse once a fortnight containing four whores... of riding a fence line for four days and making repairs and seeing no person or any cattle... of stepping on to Madison Avenue and seeing more wobbling tits and asses in one glance than he's seen in his entire life back home. He had them in fits telling them about delivering coffee to an obvious gay guy called Cedric in the art department who'd complained about one drop of spilt coffee. "But I told him what I'd do with the cup if he didn't accept it and he backed off."

Jed said he'd read an all-personnel memo about that incident and dryly recited the 'Warning, warning' message. Carl who'd not read the memo and his mother and sister shrieked with laughter.

Well after midnight Jane sneaked into Tom's bedroom and sucked him and he sucked her but she wouldn't let him fuck her. "You are my cousin. I'll introduce you to some girls as time goes by. You are such a darling Tom."

Tom was left with the distinct impression he really liked New York.

Early next evening on the way home he called into the bar diagonally opposite the apartment and asked for Julie. A plain and freckled 20-year old came up. Tom introduced himself and she poured him the beer he'd requested. She'd recognized his drawl, as the Texan she'd spoken to the previous evening and was quite taken aback he was bothering to thank her again. Her mouth fell open when he asked her to dinner on Saturday when learning she didn't work weekends.

"Y-you want to take me out?"

"Sure. When I spoke to you on the phone you sounded pretty inside and now that I've met you I have no reason to change my opinion."

"I can't believe this is happening to me. Mom won't believe it either. She doesn't have much confidence in me."

"What about your father?"

"He thinks I'm okay and is willingly putting me through college."

"What are you doing?"

"Music -- piano and guitar."

"Oh very nice. There was no money at home for me to go to college. Anyway I would have been too thick."

"You thick? I don't think so. Look come around on Saturday before we go out and meet the folk and my two married sisters and brood. They will be around for dinner."

"Okay. Just don't build me up... that's not the way to impress your mother. Just sit and talk as if you and me are real pals. Your mother will be watching every move."

"How do you know that?"

"I have a mother. Do you think any of them are much different?"

"Well insofar as personalities go, yes of course. But now that you've mentioned it, in attitude perhaps not."

"Lovely meeting you Julie. Just a one-off date eh? I'm entering advertising and plan to try for quick progress and one way to achieve that is to exploit women in that business, if you know what I mean."

"I think I do. Elbow the guys and seduce the women?"

"You are a bright young lady Julie. Er, what's your family name?"

"Stevens."

"Ah, very nice."

* * *

Tom's problem was he was without a plan. He had no idea how he was going to climb to the top, or at least towards it. He was, so to speak, in foreign fields, and his work record at home was rather pathetic. For each job he'd won he'd been fired. Tom knew the word quit but in respect of employment he'd never been able to utter it, those firing him getting in first. However, this was different. New York might be full of hard people but the ace up his sleeve, or so he thought, was he had no fear -- apart from when women let rip -- and he was devious, resourceful, a quick thinker and was passionate about winning, given the chance. He'd won awards in boxing, junior rodeo and novice car circuit racing but a big blank hung over his business career as the career had been non-existent. He was aware it was a woeful record; if he'd applied for a job in any business, even in remote parts of Texas, he would have been laughed out of the employment offices. But in New York there was hope -- his Uncle Jed was beholden to him because when Uncle Jed was last down in Loving, Texas, screwing Tom's mom on the kitchen table and Tom's father had arrived home unexpectedly, Tom had dropped at his father's feet screaming, pulling at his leg, saying he'd been bitten by a snake.

His dad Alan dropped to Tom's side flicking open his pocketknife shouting, "Which leg?"

Tom gripped his left leg and shouted that one, looked at the huge blade and shouted, no the other one, no he didn't know. By that time his mom had rushed out pocketing her panties followed by Jed buckling up.

Tom gallantly rose to his feet and wiping his brow said to his dad, "Wow, that was a close one; we all need a beer."

"Yeah right," said his dad. "It was a close one."

The grateful Jed, quietly thanking Tom, learned that Tom had just been fired from his latest job and so invited him to come to work for him in New York. He promised to send a one-way air ticket and a hundred bucks travel money.

* * *

Tom went to the company's café for morning coffee and the only available seat close-by was next to Cedric the artist.

"How's it going Cedric?"

"Oh hi... oh god, don't hit me Tom."

"Relax buddy, How is it in the art department of the print division?"

"The department is okay but I'm on a downer. We are rushing through artwork for promoting the big baseball game but the copy writers are messing around with finishing off the 'come on' line."

"How does it start?"

"Missing out on booking seats for Sunday's big game is..."

"Oh that's easy. Missing out booking seats for Sunday's big games is as useless as tits on a bull. Listen Cedric, you draw the bull but don't draw an udder as that might offend some people."

"Like leaving it to auto-suggestion?"

"Yeah, if that's what it's called."

"Oh I don't know."

"Listen Cedric, you might be gay but that doesn't mean you have to be a loser. Must go. See you later."

Four hours later Cedric found Tom chatting up the married senior receptionist. "Tom you have to hear this. The client is running with the tits on bull theme. They love it and are talking about a bonus."

"Fine Cedric, put any reward towards a diamond ear-ring. The one you are wearing is tatty."

"Gee, thanks pal."

"Are you gay?" the senior receptionist asked horrified.

Appalled that he might end up with the wrong reputation, Tom pushed her off to the women's restroom. He had to carry the poor woman back to her chair after draining her in an exhibition of extreme rutting that had other females looking on in awe.

The resulting message on the tickertape across screens was succinct. 'GIRLS -- Tom B. Wink-wink. Near lethal.'

Tom took coffee for four into a meeting room for Jed, Carl, the print art director Sara and a weary looking client.

"Thanks Tom," Jed said. "What do you think of our punch line on this thong ad?"

Tom looked at the wording around an image of a thong. 'Experience the joy of harmonizing with a beautifully made Lotus thong.'

"It's a nothing. Why say beautifully made -- at the price those things cost what do you expect? Harmonizing sounds crap if the thong will give you an itch. So what's left?"

"Young man -- I suggested that theme," said the client icily.

"Yeah well your job is to make and market thongs. Our job is to promote them creatively."

Jed was slowly turning puce but Carl was good for a laugh. "What would you suggest Tom?"

"I'd suggest 'Tame Pussy with an elegant Lotus thong' but we'd never get away with it. So I'd suggest, hmmm. 'Hide it behind an elegant Lotus thong. Er, 'it' being the pubic bone."

The client was now puce and Jed was eye bulging at Tom, drawing a finger across his throat.

"Er, no? Then how about this: 'Covered loving by an elegant Locus thong'."

"You mean Lotus," said the woman. "By god Jed, I think he's got it."

Tom fled.

Sara found Tom hiding in the photo copying room. She tickled him under his chin. "I'm married Tom but don't let that stop you. My husband accepts that what it's like in the advertising industry. In the meantime come with me. You have a desk in my department and you will have the title, 'Ideas Associate, Print Art'. You will have freedom to roam the department and discuss anyone's work with them and sit in on client meetings, walking in and out as you please. Jed says you are to be untouchable; a creative genius like you only comes along every 100 years. Read about yourself on the company's internal website. It will be up without a couple of hours. Here's Claudette to take your photo. Don't get to interested in Claudette. She's gay."

"Oh, how interesting."

"Oh god, a threesome with them. You devil."

* * *

On Wednesday evening Tom dropped in on Julie at the bar. She looked at him nervously and said, "Have you come to cancel for Saturday?"

"No?"

"Well why are you here?"

"I need to find a young woman who believes she is plain."

"You're looking at one buster."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes."

"One of our clients, Simple Beauty, has commissioned us to find a client and do a before and after photo for magazine adverts. It will require sitting for around four hours and for signing a release for use of your photographs you'll be paid $1500 and will receive a check monthly of small royalties paid every time those photos are published. Want to do it? You'll look good for your family on Saturday and you'll be instructed about maintenance measures."