by J. J. Hunt
Max rubbed at his eyes and puffed out his cheeks. “What happened?”
“She does it to everyone,” Alexa said.
“She’s crazy. She just spread herself across the table.”
Alexa removed her headband before pushing it back through her hair. “She did the same with me, she asked me if I wanted to go down on her. I can’t imagine anyone likes her.”
“No, she is legit crazy.”
“But like, everyone here is crazy.”
Max grabbed a plastic cup and filled it with water. “This is too much.” He chugged the water and refilled it.
Alexa placed her hand on his shoulder. “Candy is the least of your issues, she’s crazy, but not a threat. The real crazies are the VPs, the upper management, those are the people who control you. She’s a glorified information specialist, and she’s not paid that much more either.”
He gulped down another cupful of water. “Are they worse?”
“Supervisors? Yes. What you need to do is become friendly with one of them, and then you’re golden. If another one asks you for something and you refuse, the one you’re screwing will have your back.”
“This isn’t for me.”
“Roll with it,” she said. “Everyone is screwing someone.”
Max grumbled the words back to her. “But, I’m gay.”
“And I’m strictly dickly too, but I’ve eaten pussy.”
“Who hasn’t?” Max pushed his hand to his mouth, an acid reflux of memory. “Apparently, I need to create a Fling account.”
Alexa rolled her eyes. “No way.” She took the plastic cup from him and threw it in the bin. “Listen.” She centred him to focus on her. “Create an account, do whatever they ask, and smile when you’re doing it. Fuck it up and you’re fired.”
FOUR
As a company which specialises in hooking up, it’s essential all rooms are fully equipped for every mood, and wherever the kink will take them. Each office had bolts attached to the ceiling, on the off chance they wanted to attach a harness, or hang a hammock for an afternoon siesta, but no matter what, there was no escaping sex.
Ollie ventured away from the bathroom near the reception area; the ones guests used when they visited, he went straight to the office bathroom. His bladder pushed, almost pissing himself as he ran through the call centre.
He noticed no urinals, only cubicles. He pushed a door open and locked it behind him. “Oh, fuck,” he said, as he unzipped his pants and unleashed his penis, letting out a fiery hot stream of piss.
A knock on the partition between cubicles came. He flinched, from side to side, looking at the walls. There were circle shapes cut out of each partition, each with a small metal slot to cover the hole.
Ollie looked up at the ceiling. “Yeah?”
A foot appeared from beneath the stall. “Want to blow, or be blown?”
“Huh?”
“You’re a new guy?”
“Why?”
“I’m Quin, I work in the call centre.”
Ollie finished, shaking his dick to make sure every drip had dropped. “I’m not interested.”
“I can suck you.” He tapped on the metal circle divider.
“Like I said, no thanks.”
Quin huffed from his side of the stall. “You couldn’t handle my eight inches anyway.”
Ollie chortled. “That’s reassuring.”
Quin left his stall and waited for Ollie to leave. He stood beside the door with a hand cocked on his hip. Quin stood five-foot nine with jet black hair, at twenty-six years old, but the clean-shaven appearance took years off him.
Ollie reiterated. “I’m not interested.”
“Everyone is interested in getting their dick sucked.” He tapped on Ollie’s shoulder. “If they have a dick.”
“I have a dick, but it’s not interested.” Ollie turned his back and washed his hands.
“The other guy is cuter anyway,” Quin said behind his gritted teeth.
Ollie joined the group minutes later, his face of pure horror. He sat and huffed, all eyes on him.
Candy pushed her large breasts on top of Ollie’s computer. “Who died?” She sighed, a relief as weight was lifted from her chest. “Better yet, who did you kill?”
“Some guy just—just—just full on hit on me in the bathroom,” he said.
Candy laughed, moving back and pulling her boobs with her, almost knocking the computer. “We’re well equipped to deal with all kinds of sexual activity here,” she said. “Was it a gloryhole? I bet it was a gloryhole.” She laughed harder, clapping her hands together.
Thea and Max sat beside him, both equally in shock, they’d seen some strange people, but they hadn’t been part of the strange activities.
“Yeah, it’s weird,” Ollie said.
“I give it a week. We’re a company founded on sex. You all knew this, at least, in your interviews, one of the questions was—” she paused, and rushed around the room before picking through files at her desk and thumbing at pages in a folder. “Here: Do you have an issue with talking about sex? You all answered no.”
It wasn’t quite what they were expecting when they’d answered the question, to be met with a company who have gloryholes in toilet stalls.
“You’ll learn as you go,” Candy said. “Unless you get cut in the first week, and seventy-five per-cent of people who come through training get cut in their first week, plus, those non-disclosure forms you signed means the company discretions stay discrete.” She laughed to break the tension on the newbies faces. “Lighten up, it’s just sex.”
Ollie turned to Max. “You’re in luck. He thinks you’re cuter than me anyway.”
Max’s eyes widened. “Who? He does?”
“Won’t be hard to find, he’s probably still in there.”
Thea looked at Candy. “I’m glad there’s not one in the women’s bathroom.”
Candy smiled as her lips parted. “We have them as well. Don’t be afraid to get fingered by another woman. They’ll have some idea of what you like.”
A shiver ran down Thea’s back as she turned into an ice drip. “Great,” she grumbled.
They’d been halfway through the system, looking at notes on accounts, importantly, notes with complaints. User #UK328120 complained about user #UK782243. If it was serious, it would escalate to the supervisor, and they would have ultimate control whether to suspend an account, but they looked at other areas first; if they noticed someone renting many rooms and netting the company a tidy commission, they were lenient, but if the account was new with little to no history, and hadn’t yet attached a credit card to their account, one complaint meant imminent suspension.
“I don’t want you to think we’re only about the money,” Candy said, “but we’re a business, and businesses need money to run, and bad seeds can get into businesses and ruin them, planting their nasty troll behaviour and upsetting our prime clientele.” She sighed and glanced at her watched. “Okay. Lunch time. After lunch, I’ll pair you with someone out on the floor.”
Candy let Max and Ollie leave, keeping Thea behind. She closed the door and drew the blinds. Thea stood, ready to leave, with her bag over her shoulder. She tugged at the strap, waiting for Candy to speak.
Candy pressed closer to Thea. “I see you.”
“See—me?”
“The way you are.”
Thea butted her lips in a smile. “Not sure I get you.”
Candy stroked her finger along Thea’s arm. “It’s only natural to be attracted to people in power,” she said. “I saw your account, you haven’t used it in a while, but it screamed to me. You’re looking for someone who can take charge.”
She dusted Candy’s finger from her arm. “Definitely not, it was a joke when I made it. I wanted to see what it was all about.”
“This isn’t a joke,” Candy said. She licked her lips. “Aren’t you into it?”
“I’m into guys, I mean—I’ve thought about women, but not in that way.” She pulled a tighter
grasp on the strap of her bag. “And I like to take charge.”
She grabbed Thea’s arms, pulling her closer. She worked her hands from Thea’s shoulders to her wrists. She pulled again, touch at each other’s breasts. Thea resisted, pulling back, but Candy was a large woman with more strength.
Thea tilted her head. “They’re big.”
Candy dipped her head to Thea’s ear. “All natural.”
She let go and Candy grabbed her wrists again, pulling them back up to her. She went in to grab Thea’s B-cups, but she dodged, stepping backward. “I should go have lunch.”
Candy sighed. “Reactivate your account and update it. I’d like to see what you’re into.”
Or who I’m into. Thea shuddered, as she knew Candy was two steps away from cupping her breasts and grabbing her pussy. “I’ll do that.”
Thea ran through the building to the big kitchen. She slowed herself, approaching the table Max and Ollie sat at. She took a seat and fanned herself with a hand, a balmy red fluster caught her face.
Thea let out a giant gasp. “I’m not sure if there’s something in the water, or we’re not cut out for this place, but what the hell, Candy just tried to finger me.” She spoke softly, careful about people from other departments and table filling the room.
Max laughed while it took Ollie a moment to register the information. “She did?”
Thea placed her bag on the table, her body shaking. “Maybe not, like, all the way, but she pulled me, I had my hands on her tits, and was one step away from her tongue down my throat.”.
“Are you sure you’re not overreacting?” Ollie asked.
Alexa approached the table. “Are you talking about Candy?” She asked, flicking her hair back. She sat her lunch box and bag on the table, sitting between Max and Thea. “She’s a mess, right, you know that?”
Max nodded. “I do.”
Alexa looked around at them. “She’s caused so much shit for me. I mean, I think she’s jealous.” She opened a Tupperware box to reveal brown rice and assorted square pieces of vegetables. “I’ll warm this through, then I’ll tell you.”
Most of the people in the quiet kitchen looked directly at their table. The others were glued to their phones, with one hand free to mindlessly fork food into their mouths.
“Is that my ham?” Ollie asked as Thea opened her lunch bag.
She glanced at the meat between the two slices of bread. “Maybe, I don’t know, it was in the fridge, and I might have forgotten to buy some.”
He grinned “At least you’re honest.”
“You’re not one of those guys are you?” she asked before taking a bite.
“Just an observation.”
With her mouth full of food, she continued. “You know, the ones asking if something is there’s all the time.”
He laughed. “But it is mine.”
“I’m happy to buy the wine tonight,” Max said, breaking their conversation up before it became a thing they would argue over. Max came from a large family who would always take what wasn’t theirs, like ice cream, and crisps, anything that wasn’t nailed down or taped over with a name, but they weren’t deterrents, merely inconveniences.
Alexa sat back in her seat, sticking a fork into the steaming rice. “As I was saying. Candy can suck my dick. When I started work her, I had a thing with Jeff, or Jeffrey, and god knows that was a bad idea, anyway, Veronica, our manager, she was sleeping with him, and still is. It’s weird, because he was married and got divorced to keep his job, and ever since then, Veronica’s been like a bee on honey, trying to get him in her office, and he does. She’s incredibly territorial.” She readjusted her headband. “Now, I’m seeing Frank.”
“So, Jeff is the supervisor?” Thea asked.
Alexa nodded, sticking a forkful of rice in her mouth.
“Everyone is having sex with everyone?” Ollie asked.
“Pretty much,” she said. “Jeff is the only male supervisor, but there’s Frank, and he—”
“He’s the one you were with in the kitchen. Right?” Thea finished for her.
Alexa raised a finger. “Try and squeeze sex in at every break, it’s the unofficial company motto.”
They absorbed the information like innocent baby sponges, navigating a wasteland of dirt and filth. They had a lot to soak up.
Alexa’s phone buzzed before she’d finished eating. She grabbed a napkin and spat the food out into it. “Got to go, there’s a man in need.” She showed them her phone and the top notification flashed bright pink, it read, FLING REQUEST: Fjarr69. She left without another word, leaving them alone to eat their lunch.
“We need the app,” Ollie said. “Bet you they’re wondering who we are, and because they don’t have normal human functions, they need the app to tell them who we are.”
“Or they’ll fire us,” Max said. “I don’t think they were lying about that.”
“But do you think they’re telling the whole truth?” Thea asked.
Ollie laughed. “I guess the worst that can happen if we download it is we’ll get laid and have fun.” He pulled out his phone.
The number one downloaded app in the store. The fluorescent logo with the devil horns hooked around the tail of the ‘g’. Max and Thea followed.
“Paid or free?” Max asked.
“In the information, it says they reimburse you for the paid service,” Ollie said. “That’s what I read.”
Max looked through the services. “Monthly or yearly?”
“Monthly at two-pounds, ninety-nine pence, or yearly at twenty-nine pounds, ninety-nine pence, basically saving six pounds,” Ollie said.
“I’ll go yearly.” He clicked through the menus, adding in his card details, already saved in his phone, which both thrilled and scared him. Max was a known one-click-aholic, an abuser of drinking wine and ordering online, almost like a surprise from him to future him.
“Same,” Thea said. “They must have hundreds of thousands of people paying for this.”
“Try six-hundred million paid users,” Ollie said.
Thea tried to do the math in her head, figuring out what three multiplied by six-hundred million would create, but there were too many zeros for her to comprehend.
FIVE
Lunch ended when Candy collected them. She had a fresh, vaginal rejuvenated look on her face, a look of being impressed, without a single care in the world—that, or her corset was tied too tightly and she was losing oxygen to her brain.
“We’re pairing you up with people and you’re going to take some mock calls,” Candy said in a breathless voice as she stomped through the hall, her heels clacking on the tiled flooring. “You won’t know who you get, they’ll have random accounts, and you’ll have to put everything you’ve learnt into practice.”
“When will we be on the floor?” Thea asked, trying to keep up with Candy’s pace.
“Next week,” she said. “Don’t fear or fret, because we will have plenty of time to practice before that day comes.” She sighed and stopped, turning to see their faces. “Speaking of, did you masturbate during lunch.”
“Huh?” Max registered her question.
“Wha—” Thea and Ollie’s slack expression and dumbfounded new way of speaking said it all for Candy.
“You’ll have to start,” she said. “Once a day at work, once when you’re at home, maybe even a quickie on your break. The power of masturbation is a great power, it’s cleansing, and you have a collection of sanitised toys and tools at your disposal. We’re not animals, unless you call giving in to our carnal desired animal, which some may, but—” she sighed, pressing the back of her hand against her head. “That’s all, masturbating should be second nature to you all by now, and if not, then I guess Fling isn’t the workplace for you.”
They bobbed their heads along to her words. They’d never heard someone talk so passionately about masturbation before, they’d never heard anyone talk about it at all, unless you were drunk and it was a never have I ever question in your un
iversity halls of residence, and the question was about who’d blocked the drains in the shower, again.
Back in the training room, one work station had been set up with a headset. Max dreaded it, although he recently quit a call centre job, he remembered how hot the headset became for the ears.
“You’ll each receive a call, and you need to remember to correctly answer, verify the account, and assist the client,” Candy said one final time. “Ollie.” She gestured to the seat.
He took the seat and wore the headset. A dial tone beeped.
“Thank you for contacting Fling, the fun, flirty, hook-up app. All calls are monitored for training purposes, how can I help you today?” He read verbatim from the script he had in front of him.
On the other end of the phone was Alexa doing a poorly imitated accent, it was all over the place, based in Liverpool, Manchester, and the twang of a Welsh person. “I’m not happy that I couldn’t book the room I wanted.”
“Okay. Do you have a unique identification number?”
“What do you need that fo’?”
“To access your accunt—I mean, account.”
“It’s UK889011, and the name is Dee Barber,” she said.
He pulled the account on screen for a Liverpudlian woman. “I need to verify a few more details with you if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Make it quick,” she said, this time her voice was hoarse.
“I need your date of birth and the last four digits of the card on file.”
There were audible grumbles from the other end of the line. “I was born on the 10th of October 1978, and the last four digits are none of your business.”
“I need those digits if I’m to look at your account,” he said.
“4451,” she said.
“Great. Now, can I take some details of your complaint?”
Alexa was following a script, it had been mentally prepared from calls she’d received and how familiar it felt to her. She enjoyed playing the part of the person complaining, because it meant she didn’t have to listen to someone drone on and on about something so trivial as not being able to book a bang room; a room where Fling members could request a room to have sex in.
