Sex is a Job Description? Ch. 02

Tom let out a frustrated sigh as the case file was almost thrown across the table at him. The Director was furious, but not at him this time. Silently, Tom thanked what little good luck he had that he had an assignment to take his mind off his own anger.

Tom was mad about Ceria, and what she'd said to him almost a month ago. It bothered him to no end that she liked nothing more than to seduce him, and then tease him into being a reckless idiot and saying things that she could twist and mold into whatever she wanted. It was so frustrating to even think about her, let alone try to figure out why she kept bothering him.

At first, he thought it was actual attraction, from that one look she'd given him behind her smirk in his bathroom. He thought he had seen something like desperation, or hope. But after that, they'd met once, and she had just gotten under his skin with every little thing she could think of, and then left without having actually accomplished anything but pissing him off. She was just fucking with him to amuse herself.

The Director, though for a different reason, was angry with Ceria as well.

"...this ridiculous folly. She's risking everything we have with Hell right now, which I can't say is more than a very slight peace," the Director snapped to nobody in particular. Everyone in the room, including Tom, was silent. The room was packed full of the higher-ups in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Divisions, and Tom.

"Sir, we could call in help from our contacts in Hell. If the situation is really-"

"I'm not wasting what little favor we have with our friends down there. That's what the Ruskies did, and look what's happened in Moscow. Three murders by demons in the metro and nobody can do a damned thing, and they know it down there. They fucking know it. Like hell I'm having that happen here. Not when I have other options."

The room was so silent that a cough would have sounded like the Tsar Bomba. Nobody wanted to tell the Director otherwise when he swore. He was calm, collective, and he had chosen his words carefully. There wasn't a single soul that was going to tell him that he was wrong, not if they wanted to leave the room alive.

After a long, tense silence, the Director sat back down and turned his hard eyes on Tom, who couldn't do anything but look back and wait for him to say something.

"You, she's after you now. I don't know what she's trying to do to you, but..." he looked around the room slowly. "Get out."

The roomed emptied quickly, leaving only Tom and the Director sitting across from each other.

"Sir-"

"Let me give you a word of advice, something that you should never forget. She won't let you go, not until you're as broken as the last one that fought her. I don't know what you did to get her so interested in you, but if she's coming back to get you away from us, then you've done something you shouldn't have. Now you'd better call us the next time she even glances at you outside of this facility. Do we understand each other?"

Tom nodded. "Yes sir."

"You're dismissed. You have your assignment; see to it."

"I will sir," replied the agent, and he quickly made his way out of the conference room and down the hall without stopping to explain himself to the sly onlookers that had been waiting outside the door.

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Tom was rather surprised to go to someone else's house for a change, instead of having the demon come to his. It wasn't what he was used to, but a two hour drive into the heart of Mississippi had piqued his interest, if just a little. He checked the address on the papers in the manilla folder before he shifted his car into park and opened the door.

Well, it didn't look very out of the ordinary, just sort of...unremarkable. For a demon's house, he had expected something a little more. But, looks were almost always deceiving. He shook his head and walked up to the door, feeling the wooden porch sag a little under his feet. Before he could knock, the door opened and before him stood a redheaded woman with a smile on her face.

"Can I help you?" she asked, putting a hand on her hip and leaning on the door frame.

"Are you Gabriella Klein?"

Her smile widened. "I'm surprised you got my name right," she said, stepping back from the doorway to let him in. Tom stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Gabriella was already on her way to the other room by the time he turned around. He looked around for a moment before following her.

The front door opened up straight into the living room, where two couches sat in an 'L' shape in front of a large flatscreen television. Four stuffed deer heads, each with over twenty points, hung on the wall behind the TV. It smelled like pine needles and fresh lumber.

"You coming or not?" Gabriella asked from the kitchen. Tom hurried into the next room and found her looking through the refrigerator. She pulled out a large pitcher of lemonade and set it on the table in the center of the kitchen. She pointed to the cabinet above the sink. "Get two glasses and some plates for me. I've got some key-lime pie in here somewhere."

Tom did as she asked, and had two plates and glasses on the table when she turned around with the pie in her hands. However, the pie was green instead of yellow. She furrowed her brow and then dipped her finger into the pie. She licked her finger and then nodded.

"You make green key-lime pies?" Tom asked absentmindedly as she moved around him and got silverware. She gave him a confused look.

"You never had a green key-lime pie before?"

Tom shook his head. "No, I don't think I have."

"Now don't tell me you're afraid to try it. I can feel it that you ain't lookin' at it like it's somethin' you wanna eat," she said, cutting two pieces of the pie and giving him one on a plate. He took a fork and waited for her to cut her own piece.

"I read in your case file that you're not looking for sex. What is it that you want instead?" Tom was really confused as to why he'd been sent out all this way to see someone who wasn't at all frustrated, had no sexual needs to be filled, and seemed perfectly content to be left alone.

She gave him a look like he was stupid. "Did they not put down that I was a five in frustration and a cat two? God bless 'em, damn kids up there. Well, you can still take care of me, right? I ain't hard to please, just a little frustrated is all."

"Sure, and this pie is really good."

"Try the lemonade," she said with a smile, flipping her fork around in her fingers. He took a long gulp from the glass and blinked hard as it left a bitter banana taste in his mouth.

"What'd you put in this?" he asked, blinking again.

"Oh, you know, five parts lemonade, one part morphine, one part rohypnol, one part laudanum..." A wicked grin spread across her face. "And the pie has a little bit of ecstasy in it."

"You drugged..." Tom's vision swam and then he saw the table rising to meet him rapidly. Stars danced in front of his eyes for half a second, and then everything faded into darkness.

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Tom opened his eyes to the sound of a phone ringing. He raised his head, only to find that something caught at his neck and he couldn't progress any further. He tried to feel what it was, but his hands wouldn't move...or his feet.

He'd been trained for a situation like this, but all the hours of picking locks and being taught how to be an escape artist went right out the window. He yanked hard at the thing binding his right hand and heard a hard, loud snap.

Something hit him in the head, hard, and it sent stars dancing before his eyes. He took a few moments to collect himself and then rubbed his head with his hand. He paused, and then brought his hand before his face, finding that he was free to move it now.

There was a cord tied around his wrist, and the other end was tied to what looked like the knob from a headboard. He looked around for a moment, and everything clicked.

He was tied up, naked, spread-eagle on somebody's bed, and he had a hard-on that throbbed with the need to be attended to. He groaned with effort, but couldn't pull his head up past a few inches off the pillow behind him. He reached back, and felt that it wasn't a rope holding his head, but a solid chain that went beneath the bed. A collar was fastened around his neck with a lock at his throat.

He yanked with his left arm, but he didn't have the luck he'd had with his right. The headboard held and he remained stuck. He tried his legs, but after looking at them, he realized that the only reason his hands were bound with rope was because the person who'd tied him up had probably run out of chains. He let out a frustrated sigh and visually searched the room for his clothes.

Luckily, he saw his phone on the bedside table to his left and rolled over to get it. What Tom realized then was just how much mobility you lose when you can't move your head. As soon as he got half way turned over, the collar pulled taut around his neck and he strained hard against it to get his phone.

He growled, and scrabbled across the top of the table with his hand, inches away from his phone and the call that would bring help. He didn't know how long he spent trying in vain to reach the stupid little thing before a hand reached out and plucked it off the table right before his eyes.

"Thinking about ordering take-out, are we?" asked the demon, flicking a few stray locks of red hair out of her face. She winked at Tom and put his phone on the table across the room. Then, she returned to the bedside and pulled the rope holding Tom's left arm like it was a guitar string.

"Is this part of what you wanted when you said you were a five?" Tom asked.

She frowned. "Right, you don't remember. You called me a red-headed cunt and I tied you up. You've been here since the day before yesterday, and quite honestly, I don't know what to do with you. I had a friend come and tell me what it was about you, and we came to the conclusion that you had a very disrespectful mouth."

"I what?"

"You called me a red. Headed. Cunt. And I don't like being called a cunt. So here we are. I've been trying to think of a way you can repay me for wasting my time, not that we haven't had fun while I've been thinking," she mused, a gleam coming to her eye. She ran her eyes up and down his body, a tension building that Tom didn't enjoy.

"And by fun, you mean sex." Tom groaned inwardly at the glance she gave him.

"Now that's you're back to your normal self, tell me what you think I should get for you calling me a cunt." The raised her eyebrows, as if telling him she could wait while he thought.

His brow knitted and he tried to remember what had happened. He couldn't recall anything past the point of hitting his head against the table right after drinking the drugged lemonade. He thought for a long while in silence, and then did his best to shrug at her.

"I don't know. I guess I could do what I originally was called her to do," he offered, hoping that it would be that simple.

The contemplated it for a moment, but shook her head. "No, I don't think so. You've already done that. I was thinking something more along the lines of actual work, you know, fixing some things up around the house, getting rid of the wasp nest under my porch, helping me get the truck out of my creek bed, pussy licking..."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Look, as much as I enjoy beating around the bush, this is work for me. I can't sit around and wait for you to lure me in, or bait a trap I can talk myself into, or anything else that might treat your fancy. I'm here to fix whatever was wrong with your life. Now if this is part of it, then just tell me so we can get this over with."

Gabriella gave him a confused look. "When did you get so mouthy?"

"I have a thing about being tied up, okay? I'm not in the best of moods right now either, if you couldn't tell already." He pulled the knob from the headboard, still attached to the rope around his wrist, and looked up at the demon with a shrug.

"You're gonna have to fix that, you know," Gabriella said, plucking the cord that held his left hand. Her clawed hand sheared through it like string, and Tom took back control of both his hands, quickly unfastening the ropes from his wrists. The demon reached under the bed and Tom felt slack on the collar at his neck. He sat up and reached out to untie the binding at his ankles, bending forward as far as he could.

"That's unexpected," Gabriella said.

"What?"

"You're pretty limber for a boy, especially a human boy. Just how far can you stretch?" she purred, moving closer to him as she watched. He gave her a glance, but nothing more as he undid one knot, and then the other with no real sense of urgency. He ignored her as best he could as he curled his legs under himself and stretched idly, sore from having his limbs suspended in place for so long.

"Where'd my clothes go?" he asked after pondering the question for a moment.

"Clothes? Oh, you'll be needing some to go outside. I'll fetch something. Wait here." She left the room and Tom glanced at the table by the door. His phone was still there. He peered out the doorway to make sure she was out of sight and then moved to get his phone. He flipped it open and dialed the number to get the Director on the line.

He suddenly realized that the phone wasn't even on, and groaned inwardly as he heard Gabriella returning. He set his phone down and sat back down on the bed, kicking himself for being so gullible. She'd set the phone near him just to tease him.

Something blue wrapped around Tom's head and he pulled it off him, finding a pair of denim overalls in his grip. He put them on and followed Gabriella out onto the back porch. She pointed out to a wide creek bed with an ancient-looking truck half-submerged in the water.

"That's the truck I want you to move. I can help with my Ram, but it doesn't budge easy. I've got the cables already hooked up to the truck. All we need is to get it up and outta there so I can get these fuckin' snakes out of my yard."

"How does that truck and the snakes in your yard have anything in common?"

She sighed. "That's where they all go back to at night. It's a breeding ground." And she said it like there was nothing wrong with sending him down there, barefoot, to go push the back of the truck that was supposedly full of snakes. He gave her a look like she was crazy, and she smiled.

"You're not serious, are you?"

"Well yeah, what else would I...oh, right. Hold on." She left for a minute and then returned with a lighter and a long red stick with a fuse at one end. She handed them to him and then pointed at the truck. "That should scare 'em out."

"You want me to blow the snakes out of the truck with dynamite? Are you kidding me? Why don't you go do this yourself?" He held the stick of dynamite out to her, but she shook her head.

"Gotta work for your keep, boy. Now go scare 'em out so we can do this. I'll be pullin' the truck around." She went back into the house and left Tom to go down into the snake-infested creek bed to get rid of the snakes. He decided it was better to just do it than to argue and lose and waste his time.

Tom made his way through the yard, avoiding the two snakes that decided they wanted to cross his path, and hopped down into the sandy creek bed. Here, he saw two snakes lying on top of the truck, and one wrapped around the steering wheel. The rusty old vehicle's bed was almost completely filled with stale, stagnant water and mud, where Tom guessed most of the snakes were.

So, after making sure his exit was clear of snakes, he lit the fuse and tossed the dynamite into the truck bed. Then, he turned and sprinted as fast as he could up the bank of the creek and half way through the yard.

The noise was enormous. It was loud, even with his hands over his ears, and he felt his hair being ruffled by the percussion wave that sent the longer grass sideways for a moment. He took his hands away from his ears and heard them ringing slightly. He hadn't gotten far enough away for that.

"They gone yet?" Gabriella asked, standing on the driver side seat with the door open so she could see over her truck. Tom looked back at the rusted truck in the creek bed and nodded. He didn't think anything could survive being any closer to that than him.

"Yeah. You ready?"

"Hook those up to the back of my truck and tell me when to pull!" she said, getting back in the Ram. Tom walked over to the six or seven cables and attached them all to the ball hitch and then hurried down to the truck in the creek.

He tried to ignore the fact that snake guts lined the inside of the cab, and that the back half of it looked like a jagged, sharp mess of twisted metal. He took hold of the frame where the passenger side door would be if it had still been attached.

"Pull when you're ready!" he called. The cables went taut with tension and the truck lurched slightly forward. Tom pushed with everything he had, and the old truck groaned at the strain. Rusted steel that hadn't been moved in years began to come up out of the mud.

"Anything?" Gabriella shouted as the cables went slack.

"We're getting somewhere! Keep going!" Tom shouted back. The truck lurched again, and Tom moved a large rock the front axle was caught on. The truck ground its way up out of the water and mud began to slop off the sides and out of the back of the cab. Tom heaved at the rust-orange frame as the junked vehicle began to slide inch by inch forward. Slowly, with much swearing and muscle-working effort, the Ram dragged its ancient cousin out of the creek and into the long grass of Gabriella's yard.

By the time it was done, Tom was sweating all over and his arms and legs felt tired and heavy. He sat down on the old hood of the truck, still painted dark gray, and panted tiredly. Gabriella walked over to him and surveyed him briefly.

"Just the way I like 'em," she said.

"Wha-" Tom felt a hand on his chest and then realized that he was being thrown backwards at an alarming rate. He hit the ground and rolled backwards a few times before coming to a stop on his stomach. It felt like he'd been thrown by the fist of an angry god. He got up wearily and saw Gabriella walking toward him, a grim smile splayed across her lips.

"Run little rabbit, run." She bared her teeth at him. It was everything he could do to make it back to the porch. And even then, she caught him at the door and dragged him to the ground. He was so exhausted that even his best fight couldn't have been considered much. She easily ripped the overalls from his shoulders and pulled them down his hips.

"Is this what you were going for?" he asked as she rubbed him hard.

"I liked it better when you were on the grass, but this'll do. Lay down." Tom laid flat on the porch and Gabriella stripped off her clothes to reveal a pale, curvy body. Tom didn't realize he was staring until she tapped his chin and leaned close to his face. "Blink every now and then, eh?"

"Do we really have to do it out here? I mean, I-" She slapped a hand over his mouth.

"We do this my way, human. You're here to be with me, not the other way around. I've already had you feisty, so this time I want you tired. Be a good boy and act the part." She ground their sexes together with a moan. "And I'll give you a treat if you're good," she added.

Tom wasn't happy, but he let her do what she wanted. Getting a complaint wasn't something he wanted. Complaints were usually rewarded with a lot of talking to, extra hours in training, and unpleasant assignments. He didn't need any of those right now.

Gabriella's hips began to rise slowly, and she closed her eyes. Tom was struck by how much she looked like a supermodel ready for a camera to snap her picture. The arc of her hips came down and Tom almost moaned at the intensity of the feel. It had been two months since he'd had sex he could remember.