by Amber Heart
"Oh yeah!" shouted Opal. They both buried their attention completely in their work, working their computer drawing tablets, scrolling through pages of notes and images for the upcoming marketing campaign that needed to launch very soon.
"Are you alright in here?" came a voice, and the two women noticed that their office door, usually shut for privacy and focus, was slightly ajar. It opened farther and there stood their boss.
"Oh, hi, Alfred," said Opal. Judith tucked her head down a little as soon as she heard Alfred's voice, never eager to speak with him. It wasn't that the guy was mean, or even rude, but Judith was shy around certain people, especially people with too much confidence and power.
"I'm going to need to speak with you in private, Opal," he said with almost no tone to his voice. The guy was usually energetic and passionate, even if he did step on people's toes in the process sometimes.
"What's wrong, Alfred? We're really swamped getting these sketches out in time. I mean, we were ahead before they shifted the deadline of the final demonstration forward a week and then—"
"That's okay, Opal. We're going to get a freelancer to help finish it off. You won't have to worry about it. Judith, can I count on you to take over?"
"Yes, Alfred. Don't keep her for too long though," she said with a smile. In her mind that was probably meant to be a joke, but she was not great with small talk or fake jokes. She was just too genuine of a person, an artist first and a business person second.
In Alfred's luxurious office with multiple windows on three sides, Opal took a seat across from his desk. He sat down and leaned forward, hands on top of the expensive wooden surface. There wasn't much on his desk apart from a laptop, which was usually closed, and an intercom unit that went directly to his secretary. The guy didn't seem to get his hands dirty with too much real work, but was more of an observer and an office politics wizard. "So …" he said.
"Look, if Grobble's Chicken wants to make another change to their logo design, I'm going to need more time," said Opal with some fire to her voice.
"No, no, that's fine. You won't need to worry about any of that." The way he spoke was so final.
"You don't need to bring in outside people, Alfred. This is our job."
"It's not your job any more, but you probably knew this would come eventually. I have strong evidence that you've been 'misplacing' money from your department's funding accounts. Here are the print outs." He took some stapled pages from a desk drawer and floated them over the desk to Opal.
"What? That's not true, you know that. I'm one of the most loyal people you have."
"I thought so too. I'm sorry, Opal. Even if I didn't believe the evidence, it would still be out of my control."
It was true though, someone had been skimming from her department's account, and only she had the authority to make those changes.
Chapter Two
Boyd
"That's right, finish it all up," said Boyd. He was taking another evening off, which he did very often. In fact, he had never really worked a day in his life, not since his father used to take him to the office to help out. But that was then, and he was a boy. This was now, and he is a grown man.
"Shit, I don't think I can," said the young woman with fake red hair. "I think I need a break." She looked like she'd been up all night, probably because that's just what had happened. "What's the time anyway? You know you're still on the clock, right?"
"I'm not as stupid as you look, so of course I know I'm still on the clock. Here," said Boyd, putting his hand on her red head and bringing her pink lips over his erect penis. Boyd was not wearing pants, so that was easily done. The woman was a hired sex worker, so she didn't hesitate. "I'll finish it up while you suck some more cum out of my dick. Bon appetite!" He leaned over and picked up a little mirror from the wooden bench they were both on. They'd stolen an ornate, silver thing from somewhere around the big church hall when they'd first come in. The door was still broken from the thorough kicking Boyd had inflicted upon its mature and irreplaceable wood.
Boyd held her head and pumped it up and down, while she leaned over from beside him, slobbering on his thick shaft and licking hungrily around his fat head. He looked over at the chubby blond woman who was slumped on a chair against the wall. His dick pulsed even more as he looked over at her enormous tits, each as big as his head, and the round ass that was molded into the wood seating. "Hey!" he yelled at her. They were right up near the front of the church, and the sound bounced straight back at them from the raised dais at the front of the building, where all the most treasured things were stored.
"Huh? Oh, sorry, baby. Did I fall asleep?" Boyd stood up, pushing back the red head of the woman who was rapidly fellating him. She fell off the bench and onto her knees.
"Watch it, buddy," she said, wiping the saliva and pre-cum from the edges of her pretty lips. "Do you want your dick sucked or not?" Her eyes were bright white, but somehow kind of red at the same time. That was the many lines of white powder her current client had been handing out to her since he'd picked her up earlier that night. The other woman, the blonde who had been sleeping, was still on the clock from early in the evening, when Boyd had first felt the need to empty his balls.
"Hey, Grace," he said to the blond. "Wait, what's your name?"
"My name's Yolanda, you prick," she said "You're gonna have to take me home unless you got more money. I'm fuckin' spent."
"You've been sleeping the past twenty minutes. Am I paying you to sleep?"
"Shit, alright I'll give you some extra. You better still pay me," said Yolanda with her unnaturally blond hair covering her face. It was a good thing too, because she was looking pretty angry, and tired. "Gimme another bump first."
"Great!" said Boyd. "Then, I'm going to need you to go down on your friend here while I fuck you. That should make it up."
"What? I'm not a lesbian," said the red head.
"So? I'm pretty sure Grace isn't either."
"My name's Yolanda!"
"And my name's Ta—"
"Those are stupid names," said Boyd. He was rifling around in his shirt pocket, and pulled out a few hundred dollar bills. He shoved some of them in Yolanda's mouth just as she was about to keep telling him off. Her full breasts jiggled as she turned away from him. When she realized it was money—a lot of money for the average person—she stopped complaining.
"What about me?" said the red head, still on the floor. She opened her mouth with a smile, and Boyd put the rest of the crisp bills in her mouth. Oh, he had a lot more in his wallet, which was safely in his shirt pocket; the only piece of clothing he was still wearing. He was a strong guy who worked out almost religiously, and tall too. Even without all his money, he would have been able to get hot women. But he liked the type that did what he said without argument. They also didn't tend to talk about what he'd been getting up to, unlike some of his previous fuck buddies.
Boyd picked up the red head, her b-cups shining in the low light of the church, from the saliva she'd gotten on her while giving Boyd sloppy, drug-addled head. He carried her over to the altar at the front of the church, both of them laughing. After he sat her down on it, facing the back of the hall, he went and took Yolanda by the hand, then lead her over and knelt her in front of the petite red head whose name he never bothered to learn.
"Tongue fuck her ass while I fuck your ass with my cock, and you'll both get plenty of money. Just don't mess this up for me, okay? I plan to cum hard and plenty."
Boyd had only gotten his dick halfway up the plump woman's tight butthole when there was a pounding at the broken door. "Oh, shit," he said. "Don't you fucking move, I am not leaving until I finish."
"Put your hands up in the air!" said one of the police officers as they came in through the broken, woodens door. Boyd did as told, but he continued to fuck Yolanda's jiggling ass just long enough to orgasm hard and pump her full of hot jizz.
Chapter Three
"I can't believe this has happened," Opal said.
&nb
sp; "Honey, stop pouting," said her fiancé, Dwayne. He was a slightly husky guy, but his clean and attractive looks meant that he was desirable to many women. He was doing a fairly cheesy baby voice for Opal, but it only elicited an unimpressed look from her.
"Please, don't do that right now. It's only going to make me upset, when you condescend to me." She turned her head out the restaurant window. "I probably should have just stayed at home instead of bringing everyone around me down with my bad mood."
"Don't worry, you're so pretty that you improve the atmosphere of a room, even if you are being a sad sack." Dwayne took a drink of his diet lemonade and gestured to the passing waiter that he was ready for the check. This action was incredibly well rehearsed, and carried off with the kind of snobbery that only someone raised with wealth and stature could achieve. The waiter was such a professional, that he managed to keep from giving Dwayne daggers, although it was easy enough to guess what the lowly paid service worker might be thinking. It wasn't even a fancy place.
Opal continued to stare out of the window with distaste. She'd hardly touched her food for the second meal that day, and had a rumbling in her belly. That's what I deserve for letting myself get royally screwed over, she told herself.
"Here's your check, sir," said the waiter. "If there's anything else at all sir would like, it would be my honor." The guy walked away looking satisfied with his sarcastic comment.
"What a rude waiter," said Dwayne. "I was just using some etiquette."
"You don't have to act so proper. Not everyone knows all the right signs and gestures for eating out. Really, this isn't even that kind of place." There was some venom to her words, but that only made her fiancé pander to her more.
"I'm sorry, sweetie. I won't do it, if it bothers you that much. So, what would you like to do now? There must be a way we can cheer you up."
"Yeah, you can help me find out who stole from my work and then managed to pin it on me." She brought down her fist on the table so hard that it did hurt a touch, but she wouldn’t' have admitted that to anyone if her life depended on it.
"Dwayne, my man, how are you?" came a familiar voice. Opal could barely force herself to turn her head, as she really didn't want to talk to anyone, especially someone from the office.
"Hey, how's it going?" said Dwayne to Owen.
"Great, great. Hi, Opal."
"Hello, Owen. I guess you heard about what happened to me today at work?" she asked. Owen looked around like he was on some secret mission, making an effort to shake his head and put on a mournful expression. He pulled up a chair from an adjacent table that was vacant.
"I was shocked when I heard what happened. You should have told me you were desperate for money. I can't think of any other reason—"
"I didn't steal anything," Opal interrupted, starting to feel the fire brewing inside her. "And if I was going to, I wouldn't be stupid enough to take it from an account only I had access to."
"Hey, I believe you," he said. Then he looked at Dwayne, who was busy trying to act cool about a topic that was clearly an embarrassment for him. "I really do believe it," Owen said, sounding about as real as the fake dog poo novelty stores sell for two dollars.
"We don't have money troubles," Dwayne said. "Opal's been set up by someone, that's the only possible explanation."
"You sound so convinced," Opal said. "But that's correct, Owen—I was set up, and I'm going to find out who's to blame, then they're going to prison."
"No one said anything about prison," Owen said. "But I heard how Alfred refused to let any charges be made against you. You gotta be happy about that, right?"
"I'm ecstatic," said Opal. She peeled back her lips and exposed a grin that would have impressed an alligator. "I'll be waiting out the front."
"You're not smoking again are you?" said Owen.
"No, she gave that up," said Dwayne. The two of them started talking about the dangers of smoke, all while blowing the stuff up each other's asses with their pretentious and artificial talk. Opal hated being around the both of them at the same time. She wished that Dwayne wasn't friends with Owen, but then again, that's how she ended up landing her job in the first place. Owen had stuck his neck out for her, but now it had all fallen to pieces anyway.
She went out the front to wait for a taxi to go by, figuring that by the time her Dwayne was done trying to impress Owen, they would have a ride home.
As soon as they got through the door of Dwayne's condo, something hit Opal. "Let's have sex," she said, unwilling to spend time on the lengthy back and forth they usually went through before finally getting to the deed.
"Sure, how about we get some bubbles going in the tub and I'll let a nice bottle of wine breathe?"
"That would be nice, sure, but I think you should just kiss me." She leaned in and started to make out with Dwayne. He wasn't the greatest kisser, but he adapted quickly to her sloppier than usual techniques. Opal undressed herself and got down on her knees. Dwayne didn't make much noise while she pleasured him. "Is that nice, baby?" she asked after a few minutes.
"Yes, thank you."
"Pull my hair," Opal said, "Let's get wild. I've had a shit day and I want to do something exciting and different."
"What?"
Opal stood up and bent over the bed. "I want you to fuck me hard, and spank me."
"Don't you think that's a bit demeaning?"
"No, it's not. I'm asking you to do it, so what's wrong with it? I'll let you do anything you want."
Dwayne leant in to kiss her again, and they made out for awhile. Opal eventually sighed and then grabbed one of Dwayne's ties from his clothes rack. "How about you tie me up?"
"You're acting like a s—"
"What?!"
"Nothing …" Dwayne started putting his pants back on, his erection sinking quickly.
"I'm acting like a slut, is that it? God, you're so stuck up and boring sometimes. And why the hell didn't you back me up when your little friend was talking crap about me being fired? You know I didn't do it; you could have said something to him."
"I just don't see the point in making more trouble. They have evidence either way. I mean, we're getting married soon, right?"
"What's that got to do with it?" Opal crossed her arms, covering her round C-cups.
"Okay, I'm sorry. Hey, let's try something new then. I'm adventurous. His dick started to get hard again, and he dropped his pants on the luscious carpet.
"No, thanks. Tell me why it doesn't matter that my whole career was just set on fire and burnt to the ground."
"Well, you're going to be a married woman soon. You would have left anyway, right?"
Chapter Four
Felicia slowly tapped her foot, up, down, up, down. It made a barely audible clacking sound against the tiles of the kitchen. "Well?" she said.
"What?" Boyd was slumped over the kitchen island that was in the center of the big room. It was made of a nice, cool marble that eased his aching skin. "You're going to start lecturing me again, aren't you?" He was sitting on a raised stool, of which there were several. He rarely ever sat there, or even went into that room. There was hired help to do all of that boring stuff for him, so Boyd just let them do their jobs. He was more interested in other things, anyway.
"Sermon? That's funny, given what the police caught you doing inside one of the most historic churches in New York. I wonder how many sexually transmitted diseases you picked up on that night alone, from those two whores you were busy sodomizing when they took you away."
"Hey, if you won't fuck me, I have to find my lovin' somewhere. That's pretty fair, don't you think?" Boyd laughed to himself, despite the horrible glare Felicia was giving him. She was an older woman, in her forties. For how brilliant she was at being a lawyer, that was relatively young really.
"I can't believe I've let you turn into such a wretched peace of shit, Boyd. If your mother was alive, I'd be mortified."
"What about Dad? You always had a thing for him, didn't you? I wonder if the ol
d man ever thought about sticking it up the new, young legal assistant, that old hoot, Barry, brought in. You always were a choice piece of ass, and you're still looking pretty good." Felicia did look very fine, even compared to women a decade younger. Her fiery hair was still bright red, and her figure had only filled out in the best places. There was a sense of wicked focus about her that beckoned men to do as she said, even when she was screwing them over in the court room. Of course, she didn't do a whole lot of that anymore; Boyd was the type of client who required plenty of under-the-table dealing, mostly to pay people off and secure their silence and complicity.
Felicia was giving Boyd a particularly pissed off stare, but he was too hungover, and tired from sleeping in the holding cell at the local police department, to care.
"Do you really wonder why Barry quit the second you turned eighteen? He didn't want to have a breakdown trying to deal with all of your crap. If I didn't think so highly of your mother and father, may they rest in peace, I would have been much better off quitting too.
"Yet you're still here. I fucked some hookers in an old building. It was great! You took care of everything. No one found out or got any evidence to use in the papers. Why do you have to bitch so much?"
"You really have a way with words don't you? It never stops amazing me how anyone can say so many stupid, selfish things, and still manage to drop the panties of every woman he propositions."
"Well, not absolutely every woman," he said, raising his eyebrows and then quickly dropping them back down. It was a suggestive gesture that did not go unnoticed.
"And you're not going to have your way with me, not while I'm still under the employment of your mother and father."
"Please, don't act like Mom and Dad are still around to judge us. You might be in a better mood if you just loosen up a bit, and show me how that sweet, sweet—"
"That's quite enough, thank you!" Felicia put her hand up like a brick wall, final. "You're not going to start talking like that to me, not with any regularity. If you'd like to keep yourself from going broke, and more likely, ending up in prison, you can show me some god damned respect. Stop acting like a spoilt child who's living on his parent's dollar."
