Satisfaction Guaranteed

by Samantha M. Derr

  "Baby, you're so hot." I opened my eyes to look at him as I moved my legs to his waist, gripping him tightly. He was bathed in lamplight, face a mask of ecstasy and wonder that gave way to a deep groan when he finally came and filled the condom, grinding against me and thrusting, again and again. He was beautiful. God, how lucky was I?

  Julius collapsed on top of me, but made to move off to the side. I held him in place. I wanted to feel his weight pressing me into the mattress. That high thread count was really comfortable, and he was my favorite kind of blanket. As he relaxed against me, head on my chest, I caressed his back, rubbing him up and down to soothe him while I murmured in his ear. I told him how he made me feel, how good it was just to lie there with him, basking in the afterglow.

  A few minutes later, Julius moved back and held onto the condom as he eased out of me, then tossed it somewhere behind him. He reached for some tissues on the bedside table to wipe off his cock and mine, then rolled us to the side so we faced each other.

  Julius threw a leg over one of mine, and cupped my face. "Daniel, you need to know my heart is engaged here. It may be a little soon, but we connect on a level I never expected. I'm hoping maybe you feel that way, too."

  I took his hand and kissed his fingers. "I never expected this either and, yeah, maybe it's a little soon, but I want to see where this goes, you know? Getting to know you reminded me that there was more to life than just work and school. You delivered me from being stuck in a rut. We have all the time in the world."

  I leaned in to kiss his nose and cheekbones, then wrapped my arms around him, placing my head under his chin with a sigh. Julius drew up the comforter around us and we snuggled, ready to call it a night.

  Just before we fell asleep, Mr. Wrinkles came into the room and jumped on the bed, going around in a circle a few times before he settled at our feet.

  I chuckled. "I guess he approves."

  "I guess so. I spoil that dog rotten. You should know I tend to do that to everything I love."

  "I figured that out, but I won't hold it against you."

  "That's a good thing."

  A BIRD IN THE HAND

  Ils Greyhart

  The first time he heard the buzzer, Drake groaned and rolled over, figuring it was either a mistake or someone he knew who could just text him if they really needed to be let in. And what was someone even doing at his door, anyway? He was asleep.

  The second time he heard the buzzer, he remembered that it was the middle of the day, which was why he was sleeping with a black shirt over his face even though it was a thousand degrees outside. He should probably answer the door, then.

  Drake pushed out of bed and pulled on some clothes as he lurched to his front door. He squinted at the keypad, finally pressing the talk button once he located it. He probably should have grabbed his glasses along with the pants.

  "Hello? Who is this?"

  And then he had to scramble for the listen button to try to get the reply. No one buzzed him, ever, and he had zero practice with how the intercom system worked. Ugh, he was too tired for this.

  "Sorry," he croaked. "What? Who is this?"

  "Is this 508?" the guy demanded.

  "Uh. Yes?"

  "UPS delivery," he grunted, sounding unhappy. Not that Drake could blame him, if he was being forced to deliver packages in this weather.

  Drake buzzed him in, waiting awkwardly behind his apartment door for the delivery guy to step out of the elevator and bring him... whatever the package was. Hopefully it wasn't heavy. Why was he getting a package, anyway? He couldn't remember ordering anything, and now he'd made the UPS guy sweat it out in the heat while he fumbled with the intercom. Maybe he could apologize, explain he'd been napping?

  Which was not something the UPS guy probably cared to know.

  He had almost dozed off again standing up when a single knock on the door and a big thump startled him alert. Drake opened the door and said hey, pretty much to the guy's shoulder since he was already halfway back down the hall. Well, that was rude––UPS delivery dude couldn't even wait two seconds to hand the thing over?

  Whatever. He crouched down to peer at the package, not that he was able to make out much without his glasses. "Uh, thank you," he called out.

  "Sure," the guy muttered before he disappeared. Drake wouldn't even be able to ID him in a line up. Tall? He was pretty sure.

  The package was just large enough to be unwieldy, damn it, and Drake was still half-asleep. He decided to forgo trying to pick the thing up at all and just kicked it inside.

  *~*~*

  "Hello, you've reached the Lab Diagnostics help center. My name is Drake, how can I help you today?"

  "I can't fill out your stupid form!"

  Oh, joy, the best way to start out a call. "I'm sorry, ma'am, which form?"

  "The one asking me my credit card information. Insurance is supposed to pay for it!"

  Drake pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to sound understanding. He got about seventeen calls on this topic a day. "The credit information is for people who are paying for the test themselves, ma'am."

  "I'm not paying for the test! The insurance company is!"

  "And that's fine, ma'am. If you just fill in your insurance information on the second page, that's what we'll use to bill you."

  "I don't know how to do that."

  Drake gritted his teeth. "Ma'am, are you looking at page two?"

  "How would I know what page I'm looking at? I just want insurance to pay for this test!"

  "Ma'am, if you'll look at the upper right corner of the form, there should be a number. What is the number on the page you're looking at?"

  "Three."

  Grant me strength. "Is there a page that has a number two?"

  She grumbled the entire time, but eventually Drake managed to walk her through the process despite her frequent complaints about the stupidity of the paper trail. Once the call was over, he took a deep breath and reminded himself that the whole point of the tests were to check for chemical imbalances. Angry customers came with the territory.

  In between fielding calls, he clicked around online. Yesterday's package had turned out to be a toolkit from his parents, a present that was especially useful since his electric drill had died a couple months back while he was changing one of his light fixtures. Finishing the job with a normal screwdriver hadn't been easy, since some jobs––all of them, really––were just meant for two hands. He'd managed okay using the stepladder-chair he and some friends had made back in college, but it had taken like an hour. And since then, he hadn't gotten around to getting a new drill, since he hadn't really thought about it, since he hadn't had to use it. It was a cool surprise, and now that he had one again, well, he'd been thinking about getting a new desk. He'd had his current one for years, and it wasn't in the best shape.

  Two customers later, one furious and one nice but completely unintelligible, Drake decided to treat himself to a new swivel-top that would let him move around as much as he needed to. It was the first big purchase he'd made in months, so it wasn't too much of a stretch, even if he did have to pay extra to make sure it was delivered when he was actually at home.

  He turned when his neighbor Alonzio tapped him on the shoulder, his eyes wild as he told a caller "I'm going to put you on hold, sir." Alonzio muted the headset and then held up his hands in defeat. "Asshole says I sound too black to be able to help him with his problem. Please, please, please take him away from me."

  Drake held up his own hand. "And you think I'll be any better?"

  "You are white! C'mon, man, you owe me. I took over for that one lady who started yelling at you in French."

  "Fine, fine." Drake pulled off his own headset and switched it out for Alonzio's. "Hello, sir, my name is Drake, here at the Lab Diagnostics help center. How can I help you today?"

  "What the hell kinda name is Drake?"

  Drake raised an eyebrow at Alonzio, who waved his arms helplessly. "It's a bird, sir. Did you have a questi
on about Lab Diagnostics?"

  It was a painful twenty minutes of repeating, rehashing, and racial slurs. When the asshole finally disconnected, Drake yanked off the headset, waiting until Alonzio finished with his own caller.

  "You owe me so much, man."

  Alonzio sighed and stood up. "I can start with coffee. Want your usual?"

  "Yes." Drake's computer beeped with another incoming call. "Oh, for—" He made shooing motions at Alonzio. "Go. Coffee. Bring. Please. Hello, Lab Diagnostics help center. My name is Drake, how can I help you today?"

  By the time Alonzio showed up again, Drake had finished the call, and was getting a few minutes break of no one needing help with anything. He may have put his head down at his desk.

  "Coffee," Alonzio said, putting the cup down near Drake's elbow.

  "She wanted to know if it was okay that she'd forgotten to mark down the sample collection times," he groaned, not moving.

  Alonzio sat back down next to him. "I had a guy this morning who wanted to know why he wasn't allowed to smoke until after his samples had been collected."

  Drake sighed and pushed up to accept his coffee and take a sip. "When you were on break earlier, Lydia got a call-in who made her read the directions for the 9128 kit out loud. Twice. And then started screaming at her for not being clear enough."

  "Lydia wins."

  "For today, anyway."

  "Only three more hours left," Alonzio said. "Then freedom."

  "You need a ride again?"

  "Nah. Thanks, though. The car's going to be in the shop for like two weeks, so I made plans for pick-up. Helps that I've got a big family. My sister's getting me today."

  "Okay. Just let me know if you end up needing me to help out."

  When Lydia dropped by about an hour later, Drake solemnly gave her a piece from his chocolate stash for winning worst caller of the day.

  *~*~*

  "Ugh." Drake locked his door, hung up his keys, and then slowly collapsed in his front hallway. Work was always exhausting, because nothing took it out of you like having to deal with endless, repetitive questions while maintaining a pleasant demeanor, but even for the call center it had been a nightmare of a day. A power outage had taken out half of the building for three hours, leaving everyone scrambling to reroute calls and divert traffic while trying to get the problem fixed. The rest of the day had been spent dealing with all the backed-up call-ins, with people who had been on hold and shifted around from department to department for much too long. It had been... less than pleasant.

  Drake slowly pushed himself up after realizing he'd been staring at his ceiling for ten minutes, making an executive decision to take a proper nap rather than fall asleep on the floor. He deserved it after the day he'd had. Quickly shucking his work pants and his polo, he managed to set his phone to wake him up in an hour before passing out, but it was a near thing.

  He was pretty deeply asleep when his door buzzed, shocking him into consciousness. Drake groped for his pants and his glasses in an irritating sense of déjà vu. He'd forgotten that his new desk was supposed to arrive today. Damn it.

  Drake stumbled to his door and prodded at the intercom. "Yes?"

  "UPS, I've got a delivery for 508?"

  "Yeah, right, thanks," he babbled as he buzzed the guy in. At least he was wearing glasses this time. It sounded like the same guy from last week, although it was hard to tell since he didn't sound upset. Well, it was a nicer day. Or maybe it was a different guy; intercoms weren't exactly known for their clear sound.

  He opened the door before the guy even finished knocking, anxious to just get his package and go back to sleep. The guy thrust the sign-y machine at him, and Drake scribbled his name on it. "Thanks," he said. "If you could just––"

  But UPS Guy was already nodding and walking back down the hall, wheeled cart in tow. Hey no, there was no way Drake was going to try to get this giant box into his apartment by himself.

  "Hey! Wait a second!"

  UPS Guy, and this was definitely the dude from last time, rudeness and all, stopped and turned. "Yes?"

  "Look man," Drake said, leaning on his boxed up desk, "I know you're busy and all, but I'm going to need you to actually wheel this thing into my apartment, as it is large and unwieldy, and you have a cart with wheels made for moving stuff." Also he was possibly still half-asleep.

  UPS Guy blinked, then frowned. "Right, sorry."

  "It's fine," Drake said, relieved, as UPS Guy followed him into the apartment, wheeling the package behind him. "Maybe next time don't be so quick to leave? Not everyone's built for heavy lifting." He pointed to his left shoulder to emphasize his point. "I mean, how'd you think I was going to bring that thing in?" UPS Guy's eyes widened, and Drake had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. "Oh wait, no, seriously, you didn't notice?

  "No, that's––you're––fuck."

  Drake held up his hand, grinning. "It's not a big deal. I think you're the first person ever who's actually managed not to notice. But it'd probably be a good idea to keep people like me in mind when you're delivering, yeah?"

  "Uh. Sure. I've gotta––" UPS Guy made a beeline for the door, practically carrying his handcart in his rush.

  Drake stuck his head out the doorway to watch him dash for the elevators before closing and locking his door. Well he was definitely awake now. It was worth it for UPS Guy's expression though, and at least he had the desk all ready to be assembled. He went to grab his box-cutter and the new drill set, prepared to get to work.

  *~*~*

  Forty-five minutes later, Drake had all the pieces laid out over his living room floor and was frustrated beyond belief. One of the drawers hadn't been included, meaning that he had the wonderful task of calling up their customer service, and really, the last thing he wanted to do after work was spend more time on the phone. He knew they had scripts damn it, but it took going over every piece he had twice to verify that he was, in fact, missing the drawer, that he'd just gotten the package today and hadn't started assembling anything yet, and that there was no way this was his fault. Followed by an argument against trying to repackage everything for an equivalent exchange before a higher-up agreed to send out the missing piece. Expect it in five to ten business days.

  At least the drawers were one of the last things to be attached. Drake tried to shrug off his annoyance and got to work, assembling things in pieces and then transporting them back to his room where his new desk was going to live. Some of the parts were really tricky to put together one-handed, but that was why he worked barefoot: it was amazing how flexible a person could get out of necessity. His phone started to buzz while he was lying on his back, both legs positioned to hold one of the desk sides in place while he used the drill to attach it. He let it ring out while he got the part attached, fumbling as he tried to keep it in place so the holes lined up correctly. It took two more tries before he was able to roll out from under the desk and pull out his earbuds to call Alonzio back.

  "Hey, Alonzio, what's up?"

  "Hey, man! Sorry, just wanted to double-check, did you still want to catch that movie this weekend?"

  Drake shifted to adjust the phone so he could keep working while he talked. "I dunno, that sounds like the 'you're hoping I'll bail so you don't have to' tone. Something come up?"

  Alonzio snorted. "Someone knows me too well. Marci just got two pre-show tickets from a friend of hers who's in some play, and she really wants to go and be supportive and stuff. It's on Saturday night."

  "Which was the only time you were free this weekend."

  "I know. Sorry, man."

  Drake reached to grab another hidden cam, using the Allen wrench to tighten it into place. "Nah, it's cool. I just, you know, new sci-fi movie."

  "I know! I wanted to see it too."

  "You want me to wait for you? Next week?"

  "Please, man, you've been dying to see this. Don't even pretend you didn't just die a little inside with that suggestion."

  Drake chuckled. They really
did know each other too well. "A little bit, sure. But I mean it. Don't exactly want to see it myself, and even if I did, I'd have to wait until you saw it anyway in order to talk about it. I can wait another week."

  "You're a boss."

  "No kidding." Drake twisted around to put in another screw. "How's the no-car plan going? You've got another week in the shop, right?"

  "Yeah. Marci's still able to drop me off in the mornings, and I've got a couple different family members switching off for chauffeuring. My cousin's picking me up from work all this week. His job base is right near our office, and we've got roughly the same shifts right now. "

  "Okay, least that's working for you." Drake glanced down at the instructions. He was going to need all his mobility for this next step. "I'll talk to you tomorrow at work, okay? I need my hand back."

  "Didn't need that visual."

  "Fuck you," Drake said good-naturedly. "You owe me, remember? You're bailing on a movie plan we've had for two months so you can play good boyfriend to Marci."

  "Yeah, yeah, sorry. Thanks. I'll make it up, promise. See you tomorrow."

  *~*~*

  "I'm sorry, ma'am, but unless you're willing to give me your account information, I'm unable to look up your account."

  "I just want to know what I'm being billed for!"

  Drake pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting down a sigh. "Yes ma'am, and I'd be happy to help you with that, but I cannot access your account unless you give me your account information, and without accessing your account, I can't explain your bill to you."

  "HOW DARE YOU?" Drake winced and fumbled to turn down the volume on his headset. "TALKING TO ME LIKE I'M A CHILD! I HAVE A TWO HUNDRED DOLLAR CHARGE ON MY ACCOUNT AND I DEMAND TO KNOW THE REASON."

  "Ma'am, I would love to tell you the reason," Drake repeated, "but unless you give me your account information—"

  "I WANT TO SPEAK TO YOUR SUPERVISOR. I'LL HAVE YOU FIRED."

  "Of course, ma'am, let me just put you on hold––" He muted her mid-scream and desperately signaled Laura over. "Caller wants a charge on her account explained but won't give me any account information."